She’d more than enjoyed it. She’d been as shocked by his ability to divine her unsuspected kinks as she’d been by Trey’s. “Of course I enjoyed it,” she said aloud. “Maybe this is just too fast for me.”
“I can slow down. I . . . like you, Rebecca. Why don’t you take tonight to think about it? I’ll call you tomorrow.”
In her admittedly limited experience, guys rarely meant they would call when they said that. If Zane didn’t mean it, it would let her off the hook of this dilemma.
“All right,” she said, opening her door and getting out. “Call me tomorrow.”
I won’t be disappointed if you don’t, she swore to herself as she went inside.
CHAPTER EIGHT
On the Menu
TREY had Elaine arrange his Wednesday appointment with Rebecca. He told himself it made sense to talk at the Lounge. Rebecca could confirm that the kitchen and dining room were set up to suit her. Yes, Zane was back in Boston and, yes, he might read something in Trey’s body language if he saw him with her. That wasn’t why Trey didn’t want Rebecca at headquarters. He had no plans to pursue her. Anything Zane might misinterpret was moot.
Aware the excuse was slim, he shook his head and opened his laptop at one of the dining room’s finished booths. He’d come early, and Rebecca wasn’t there. Possibly, he should have had sex with Zane more than once this morning. The thought of his new chef arriving made his libido feel antsy.
He’d left the street entrance open, but Rebecca knocked anyway. Trey’s palms broke into a sweat as he went to greet her.
“Hey,” he said. “Glad you made it.”
This wasn’t very bosslike, but he was grateful anything came out of his mouth. His pulse was going haywire, his eyes trying to drink in every part of her at once. It wasn’t normal to be this happy about another human being’s presence.
“Come in,” he said, stepping back to give her room.
She came, ran her gaze around, and turned back to smile at him. “It looks great,” she said delightedly. “It’s more finished than last time.”
He reminded himself she was delighted because she’d be cooking here, not because she was with him. His cock wasn’t listening. It was throwing a little party inside his Calvin Kleins.
“Should we sit?” he offered, gesturing toward the booth he’d chosen.
She jerked as if her thoughts might have wandered too. “Sure,” she said. She held up the computer tablet she’d been clutching to the side of her crisp white shirt. “I brought some suggestions for the menu. I realize you’re a foodie and probably have your own ideas. I promise I’m not married to what I’m proposing.”
She wasn’t married to what she was proposing. Trey’s mind had trouble processing that plainly. “I want your ideas. I’d be wasting your expertise otherwise.”
They slid into the booth at almost the same moment—and with very similar awkwardness. Trey’s legs were longer and his foot ended up against hers. He pulled it back, but the contact rattled her as well. She fumbled over opening her computer, a hot red tide rising up her cheeks.
He wanted to lick the color, or maybe just fuck her senseless over the tabletop. He was so hard he hurt, his prick a fricking missile seeking the heat of her.
Sheesh, he thought. I’m a maniac.
The remainder of their discussion unrolled along the same road. Being this close to her might have been easier if he hadn’t known she wanted him too. Because he did, it took twice as long to rough out a menu, considering they weren’t at odds over it. Rebecca’s vision of classic Boston favorites given a luxury twist was very much what he’d had in mind.
He noticed the longer they sat, the tighter she pressed her knees together. When she crossed them under the table, he wanted to break into tears. Truly, he deserved industrial strength credit for the sacrifice of not chasing her.
“I, uh, need to put the word out,” she said. “But I should be able to pull a crew together within the next two weeks.”
“You’re going to steal some line cooks from your old employer.”
Her sly smile was a welcome break from tension. “A couple. But they already told me they’d follow me to a new place.”
He grinned back, and a small silence fell. Rebecca stroked the edge of her computer like it was something else. Trey tried not to get any harder at the unconsciously sexy movements of her fingers. Wrenching his eyes to her face didn’t improve matters. Her lips were so tempting . . . and her eyes . . . and that delicate stubborn jaw . . .