“Well, this is embarrassing.” A disappointed sigh came over me. “Rain check?”
“I have a better idea. Are you tired yet?” I shook my head. “Up for a quick trip?”
“Does it mean I have to put on normal clothes?” I asked looking down at my yoga pants. They’d grown increasingly comfortable and the fleece sweater felt nice against my nipples. For some odd reason I felt sexy.
“Please don’t,” he winked, grabbing his keys and my hand before heading out the door.
We arrived at Padua several moments later and he parked his Audi on the street.
“Umm…pretty sure it’s closed,” I said motioning towards the dark restaurant front. Considering that it was Wednesday, most everything shut down at midnight. He ignored my observation and dashed around to open my door. Before I could protest he pressed his finger to my lips and guided me toward the back entrance. He jingled his keys carefully into the lock, holding fast to my hand.
“Do you work here?” I whispered, darting my eyes around the quiet alleyway.
“You could say that.” The door swung open and he dipped a hand in to disarm the alarm. As he flicked on the lights he added, “Okay, I own it. Silent partner. Now, what do you want for dessert?”
“Mmmm, what’s on the menu?” I had to admit that I was hoping more and more it’d be him.
“Good question. It changes weekly,” he said. “Why don’t we take a peek?” With his fingers still tangled in mine he pulled me gently into the kitchen, navigating through a maze of stainless steel appliances. The place was spotless, as I’m sure it had to be for health reasons and it was much larger than I’d imagined. The restaurant itself only held maybe one hundred and fifty guests, at most. But the kitchen was nearly the same size as the dining room.
“Why is the kitchen so big?” I asked, trying to keep up with his steps. I’m sure the question seemed weird, but he answered it with ease.
“We do prep here for more than one restaurant.” When I didn’t speak again he continued, “There’s several LA based soup kitchens that don’t have a large enough space. We allow them to prep here on alternating days depending on their expected capacity. I actually own one of them and when I signed on to this venture it was one of the prerequisites for investing. My partner has been trying to expand the dining room from day one, but my fifty percent won’t let him.” For once, in a long while, I was legitimately speechless. His face lit up with excitement and for a moment, I thought it was the topic. But we had reached the walk in refrigerator and dessert was waiting. Aside from the biting temperature, I was overwhelmed with the quantity of food. So neat, so organized. Sections were labeled by type with their respective expiration tags facing out. A few stainless steel carts were pushed toward the back, one of them containing an array of desserts.
“That’s convenient,” I laughed as he wheeled the cart toward me. He pointed out a few, giving brief descriptions as he went.
“Tartlet. Fruit, crust, and cream,” he said showing me a colorful, palm sized dish. “Banana spring rolls. Banana, fried tortilla, dusted with cinnamon sugar.” I licked my lips as my stomach growled a little. I hadn’t realized that I was actually hungry. “And the chocolate mousse. Chocolate. Need I say more?” He handed me a spoon.
“These aren’t made to order?” I asked, giving him a playful smirk as I took a bite from the mousse.
“Perhaps I thought you might be hungry.” His eyes drew level with mine. “At least, I hoped you would be.” The cold temperature suddenly caught up to me and a slight shiver rocked through me. He cupped his palm along my neck.
“You’re freezing,” I tried to play it off as I continued to eat my dessert. Mid shiver a bit tumbled from my spoon and down the front of my sweater. I hoped he hadn’t noticed but the twisted smile on his face indicated otherwise.
“I’ll get it,” he offered, stepping into me so close that the only distance left was maintained by my plate. I put it down. His hands hooked possessively into the bottom of my sweater, pulling me closer. For a moment, I stopped shivering. My whole body must have gone from zero to sixty in a matter of seconds. He brushed his fingertips along the tenderness of my stomach before traveling farther. Inch by inch, his hands eased upward, dragging my sweater with it. Our breathing grew heavy. Pockets of steam emanated from our mouths as my sweater lifted past my breasts. Before I could breathe another word, his lips fell softly between them, circling his tongue around the little bit of chocolate left by my dessert.