Bossing the Virgin(6)
“Is that a trick question?” She replies with a grin. “I’m always happiest when I’m cooking. Doesn’t matter where, doesn’t matter when. In fact, your kitchen will be heaps better than the one I’m cooking in now.”
“Why’s that?” I ask. “I would imagine that a chef’s own kitchen would be where she’s most comfortable.”
“Oh believe me, I dream of the day when I can have a fancy kitchen in my very own home. Double ovens, a warming drawer, an extra prep sinks, tap for pasta pots. I’ve got a whole list. But right now I’m camping on my best friend’s couch, so the only kitchen I’ve got access to hasn’t been upgraded since the 80’s.”
“There’s an opening in the apartment building near my family’s home,” I say. “I was actually planning on moving into it myself but didn’t. Anyways, I think it would suit your needs exactly. I actually passed it by because of the kitchen. I spend far too much time on takeout to ever need that much space.”
I don’t say that I never moved in because my recently widowed mother ended up needing me to move back home. It was too empty for just herself, she says. I also agreed. She and my father were high school sweethearts. Losing him was like losing half of herself. I didn’t want her to be alone when her mind was in such a state, so I moved back into the guest house. Equipped with a kitchen, bathroom, and two bedrooms, it is more than adequate for what I need right now. I am extra glad that I hadn’t moved back to the main house so that I could keep the ugly mess my father made of the company under wraps. The last thing I want her to do was worry over it on top of everything else she’s gone through.
“That-That sounds perfect,” she says.
The elevator dings and opens up.
“No problem. I’ll find the number for you tonight. It’s on my way home.”
“I’m surprised that you don’t like cooking,” Mikayla says. “I mean, as the owner of a restaurant business.”
“My father owned a restaurant business,” I correct. “I worked most of my life at Red Canyon Steakhouse, but I wouldn’t say that this is my passion.”
“I guess not, if you’ve got pizza on your speed dial,” she says teasingly.
“And Thai, and sushi. I do have a varied palate. Don’t get me wrong. I do enjoy eating food. Just not making it. I don’t have the patience to sit for hours making stew or pasta by hand.”
Our conversation is cut short as I open the door to the kitchen, and she stands for a second taking it in. Even though it’s an older kitchen, my father had sunk a lot of money into it in the beginning to make it a chef’s dream, and I guess it’s still holding its own after all this time. Mikayla walks slowly down the counter, checking everything out. She opens the door in the pantry, nodding thoughtfully, and proceeds to the fridge. Then she starts pulling out the drawers, murmuring pleased sounds as she spies something she likes.
“Well? Think you’ll be able to cook in this kitchen?” I ask.
“For sure! There are a few things ingredients that are missing, but for today, I think I’ll still be able to blow your pants off.” She pauses suddenly and goes red, then quickly turns around and opens the drawer she just opened moments before. “Especially in such a fancy kitchen! I can’t wait to use this thing!”
I resist the urge to laugh at her chatter. It’s cute, and besides, I like the fact that she’s thinking about me naked. I certainly have been thinking about her. Of course, it would be a terrible idea, seeing as I’m her boss. Not to mention unethical. I may be the owner, but that doesn’t free me to do what I want.
“I think that’s a pineapple slicer,” I say.
“Oh, I’ve got lots of ideas for pineapple,” she says weakly.
“Well, I’m just about ready for lunch if you want to start,” I say, letting her off the hook. “I’ll just sit over on the end of the counter here if you don’t mind. We can go over some ideas you have for the menu while you cook. Unless you prefer not to multitask.”
“I can multitask,” she says with more than a little bit of relief. “And I’ve got lots of great ideas. I couldn’t even sleep last night there were so many. I wrote them down for you, but I’m happy to talk in detail about them.”
She pulls out a piece of paper from her purse and hands it over. I glance at the list as she washes her hands. There are over twenty items on it. I’m impressed. I pick a random selection to go through with her, and she chats animatedly as she works. There’s a farm outside of town that make the best cheese, and another vendor at the food market downtown that’s got the freshest catch in town. More than once I find myself not so much listening as looking at Mikayla. Her enthusiasm is apparent, and damn if it isn’t incredibly sexy too.