Spark (Heat #2)(16)

"Nothing has changed," I lie. "Maribel mentioned that you were planning on some new items for the relaunch menu so I thought you might need this."

"Maribel needs to mind her own business." His gaze falls over my shoulder. "She almost left Nova. She got a job offer from a place in Brooklyn."

My brow furrows. "How do you know about that?"

He manages a small smile. "The owner called me after the fire. He said Maribel had applied there. He wanted to know if she was as good as she claims to be."

The fact that she was offered the job means that Tyler sang her praises. I can't help but wonder if he ever discussed it with her. "She told me about the offer."

"Did you consider leaving Nova after the fire?"

"No." I smooth the skirt of my sundress. I'd put it back on after we made love when Tyler went into the kitchen to take a call. "I want to work at Nova."

He moves to sit in one of the oversized chairs in his living room, motioning for me to do the same in the matching one next to him. "I'm glad. I was worried that you'd get scooped up by another restaurant. You're the most talented junior chef that we have."

I sit, crossing my legs at my ankles. I always wear panties and without them, I feel exposed even though Tyler's seen, and touched, everything under my dress. "I wouldn’t have accepted another offer, even if one was made. I like working at Nova."

"Our new location seats more so I'm hiring more staff. I need at least one more senior chef and a few more juniors."

I knew that. Maribel mentioned it and then I heard Hunter telling Percy and Pamela about it before my interview. I don't know how many bodies he's bringing on board but I know that they'll fall into step with the rest of us quickly. I have no qualms about welcoming new chefs, as long as I still have the opportunity to move up the ranks.

If he's bringing in seniors chef that means that he won't be offering promotions to the staff he has now. I'll just have to work harder to prove that I deserve it so when he does consider moving someone from junior to senior chef in the kitchen, my name will be considered.

"More junior chefs?" I ask with a grin. "I don't have to share my station with a guy, do I?"

"I'm personally assigning work stations. There won't be a man within twenty feet of you."

"You're kidding, right?"

"Do I look like I'm kidding, Chef?"

I can't keep up the straight faced banter. I crack a smile. It's only the second time he's called me that. It may trump the 'baby' that fell from his lips when he was inside me earlier. "I can never tell with you."

"If I could get Hunter to agree to a separate prep room just for you, I'd make that happen." His gaze locks on mine. "I know you'd never go for that. You like being in the trenches."

"I love being in the kitchen." I hold tightly to his tablet. "I feed off the energy of everyone else in there."

"I know that feeling." His expression softens. "My first job was at a bistro in Boston. I never wanted to leave that place. I would have slept in the middle of that kitchen on a cot if the owner wouldn't have ordered me out each night."

I nod, confirming that I know that feeling. "It was the same for me. I've been in professional kitchens all my life. I took my first steps in one. It's in my blood."

"You took your first steps in one?" He tugs on the drawstring at the waist of the black sweatpants he pulled on after we got out of bed. "Nova doesn't hire anyone under the age of five. They usually can't stay awake through dinner service."

I realize my slip at the same moment he jokes about it. I try to edge my way out of it by joking too. "At least my knife skills have improved since then."

It doesn't work. His face has changed. It's impassive now. The playfulness has slipped away and a mask of seriousness is in its place. "Did you inherit your talent from your mom or your dad?"

I skip over that generation when I answer. "My grandma was a pastry chef. She taught me how to love and respect food."

"So you can bake?" He looks at my hands. "You're more gifted than I realized."

I sigh inwardly, grateful that I navigated my way around any questions about my parents. "I can bake you a cake, Chef, but there's a condition."

"What might that be?" His brows rise with the question.

"You'll let me feed it to you on your birthday." My chin lifts. "That's a week from Wednesday."

"Who told you it was my birthday a week from Wednesday?"

I laugh and tilt my head to the side. "You know who told me that."

"Maribel?" His mouth curves into a sly grin. "I should fire her for that."

"You should thank her for that, Chef."

"I should thank her? Why would I do that?"

I rest the tablet on the coffee table before I push to my feet. "You should thank her because on your birthday I'll be feeding you the most delicious cake you've ever tasted while I wear my birthday suit."

He stands, pushing his sweatpants to his knees in one fluid movement. His long cock is hard, curving toward his belly. "I'd give anything for an early gift. All I want is a taste."