“No.”
I had to give it to him, he had extremely expressive eyebrows. Those thick black caterpillars perched over his steely-blue peepers had an entire language of their own. Right now they were drawn together in a glower that told me I was a rebellious little nitwit that he was fully prepared to have drawn and quartered and fed to his dogs.
My staff looked on in fascinated silence.
Through gritted teeth, he said, “This is an incredible opportunity for you—”
My sharp laugh made two of the line cooks jump. “How thoughtful of you to think of little ol’ me for your precious opportunity! I’ve been waiting so long for such a tantalizing offer! Whatever would I do without you?”
That growl of his came on, low and dangerous. Even Eeny started to look nervous.
Deadly quiet, he said, “Everyone. Out. Now. If she fires you, I’ll pay you each a year’s salary and find you other jobs.”
That offer proved to be too much for my employees to resist. I watched in red-faced fury as one by one they silently filed out in a single line, avoiding my gaze. At the end of the line, Eeny shrugged and mouthed, Sorry, boo. Hoyt sent me a wink.
I’d just gotten a painful lesson in the power of men with money, and I didn’t like it one bit.
Swallowing back the string of vile curses boiling on my tongue, I folded my arms over my chest and stared at him.
He stared right back at me. Boy, did he ever. The Beast had a Look of his own. Truth be told, it would give mine a run for its money.
I said, “We open in ten minutes. I have two hundred reservations tonight.”
He said, “You look tired.”
I had to close my eyes and count to ten again. When I opened them, I hoped death rays were shooting out of my head. If I’d had a machete handy, I couldn’t say for sure that I wouldn’t lunge at him with it.
“And you look like you were raised in the woods by a tribe of cannibals. All you’re missing is a bone in your beard.”
That smirk appeared briefly again, there then gone. He ran a hand over his face, staring at me with such sudden strange intensity I thought I might spontaneously combust.
Unnerved, I asked, “Am I going to have to call the police to get you to leave?”
“The chief of police and I serve together on the board of the Peace Officers Association. I’m sure Gavin would be happy to take your call.”
At my sides, my hands curled to fists. “You enjoy this, don’t you?”
“What?”
“Throwing your weight around.”
He took several slow steps toward me. I stood my ground as he approached, even when he got so close I could smell that masculine scent of his again, the hint of warm musk my traitorous nose found so intriguing.
Looking down at me, he said roughly, “About as much as you enjoy being told what to do, I think.”
“I don’t take orders.”
“Neither do I. And for the record, I don’t enjoy throwing my weight around, but every once in a while it’s the most convenient way to get what I want. And I want you.” His pause burned, and so did his eyes. “To come to work for me.”
I found it impossible to speak for a moment. His closeness was disorienting, and that look in his eyes . . .
“I don’t want to work for you. I don’t need to work for you. And even if I did, I couldn’t. Look around—I’m busy.”
He ignored that and started explaining in a patronizing, irritated voice, like he was a judge and I’d just violated my parole.
“It’s a catering job. A onetime thing. I’m having a benefit dinner and auction at my home for a charity, and I need someone to create the menu and oversee the food and wine for the event. And cook, of course. You’d be in charge of the entire thing. You can bring in whatever staff you need to assist you. There will be press. A lot of press. I’d give you and your restaurant full credit in the event materials.”
Oh. Well then.
Catering was an area I wanted to get into, not only because the money was good, but because it was fun. At a restaurant, the menu stayed fairly static, usually changing only with the seasons or the arrival of a new chef, but catering opened up a whole new world of creative possibilities. Each event was unique, an opportunity for a chef to stretch himself. To show off his skills, really.
And an event at Jackson Boudreaux’s home would no doubt be filled with the crème de la crème of Louisiana society. I could reach a whole new clientele, one that didn’t come to dine in the touristy French Quarter. I’d be a liar if I didn’t admit I found that appealing.
My brain started impatiently tapping its foot.
I was forgetting who I was dealing with. If he aggravated me as much as he had over the course of one day, I couldn’t imagine how bad it’d be through the time it would take to plan an entire event. I could end up with a stroke.