Haze(66)

"Whether you believe me or not isn't relevant." I turn back towards my prep station. "I know what I'm capable of and I know that if I was given the chance, I'd happily prove that I could take Tyler Monroe's in one swallow. I'd do it right now if I have the chance."

"You'd think I'd have a say in that, no?"

I stop with my hand in mid-air. No one else is supposed to be in the kitchen right now. The only people in the entire restaurant are the two front-of-the house staff who are busy confirming reservations. They're both also women. That means that there's no way in hell either of them just asked that question considering the voice attached to it is all kinds of deep and sexy. I know that voice. I've never heard it in person but I've heard it whenever he's been on television, which seems to be all the time recently.

"Who are you?" Drea asks because she's not only new, she's na?ve. She must also be one of the few people working in the restaurant industry in New York who has never seen a picture of him.

"I'm Tyler." I hear footsteps behind me. "I'm Tyler Monroe and you are?"

"Drea Hernandez," she offers. "You're not actually Tyler Monroe, are you?"

"I'm actually him." He chuckles.

I hear shuffling behind me and then in a way too excited tone, Drea screeches out the words no one working in this kitchen should ask. "Can I get your autograph? I have all of your cookbooks at home, but can you sign my jacket?"

I pick that moment to turn around because I know inevitably I'm going to have to face him. He's one of the reasons I applied for this position after I graduated from culinary school. His career is astounding and his accomplishments are nothing short of impressive. He's only twenty-nine-years-old and he's already the owner and chef at one of the most prestigious restaurants in Manhattan.

"I sign your paycheck." He ignores the offer of the pen that Drea is dangling in front of him. "I assume that whatever you're working on needs your attention."

She purses her lips together in a grimace before she tucks the pen back into her pocket. "I thought you were on a book tour."

"I thought you had work to do," he counters. "I'm here for dinner service tonight. I want everything in order."

I stare at his profile. He's striking. His dark hair is long enough to touch the collar of his jacket. His face is covered in stubble. It's no wonder that women come to the restaurant in the hope that he'll be here. I've lost count of how many of my classmates from culinary school have asked if they can stop by to meet him.

"You and I should talk." He suddenly turns to the side so he's facing me directly. "Come with me."

My breath catches at his words. "I have a lot of work to do."

His tongue darts over his bottom lip before he runs it over the top. It's a thoughtless gesture that shouldn't impact me the way that it does. "That can wait."

I lower the knife in my hand onto the cutting board. I smooth my hands over the front of my chef's jacket before I take a deep breath and silently follow him down a corridor toward a makeshift office that I've seen the restaurant manager use to fire those who don't pull their weight.

"If this is about what you overheard, I can explain that," I say the moment we're through the doorway.

He slides the leather jacket he's wearing from his shoulders revealing his muscular, tattooed arms. I look to the open doorway hoping someone, anyone, will save me from this moment.

"I don't need an explanation." He tilts his head to the side as his eyes rake me from head to toe. His gaze stalls on my name, which is sewn on the front of my jacket in red thread. "I'm going to assume you were talking about one of my signature dishes when you said you could fit the entire thing in your mouth."

I bite my bottom lip when he takes a step closer his eyes riveted to my face.

"That's what you were talking about isn't it, Cadence?"

My lips part slightly as I pull in a deep breath. "No. I was talking about… I was actually talking about your…"



Coming 2016


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ABOUT THE AUTHOR


Deborah Bladon has never read a romance hero she didn't like. Her love for romance novels began when she was old enough to board the bus, library card in hand to check out the newest Harlequin paperbacks. She's a Canadian by heart, and by passport, but you can often spot her in New York City sipping a latte and looking for inspiration for her next story. Manhattan is definitely her second home.

She cherishes her family and believes that each day is a gift for writing, for reading, and for loving.