Jacket slung over his shoulder, he walked in the hopes of the exercise settling him. Past the Old State House he went and then down Tremont Street to the Common. The lush green park reminded him how much he loved living here. The people of Boston were a wonderful mix of blue- and white-collar—in every shade of the rainbow. On any corner, he might see ivory tower academics bumping elbows with cops and dog walkers. Trey belonged here as much as anyone.
He crossed the Common with meandering steps, eventually landing on Charles Street. He could check on the restaurant. It was only a few blocks off.
“Crap,” he muttered under his breath. His subconscious had done this on purpose.
She’d be there of course, but so would everyone else, a whole horde of cooks and bottle washers much too busy to speak to him. She’d been training her crew as if their first night were an Olympic event. He could stick his head in, as any owner might. Rebecca didn’t even need to know he’d come.
As soon as he decided, an undeniable excitement fluttered in his stomach.
To his amazement, when he stepped through the door, the only soul in sight was her. She sat in the dining room, sipping from what he thought was a pint bottle of porter.
“Where is everyone?” he asked.
“Sent ’em home,” she said. “We were getting over-prepped. I told them to enjoy the weekend, and I’d see them first thing Monday.”#p#分页标题#e#
“You sent everyone home.”
She seemed to recognize this was out of character. She poured beer into the glass she hadn’t been drinking from. “Sit,” she said. “Taste. I think this will complement our spin on Boston beans and bacon.”
This was one of their appetizers, served on lace-thin triangles of sourdough toast. Unsure what he was getting into, Trey sat and sipped. “Yes,” he said. “That combination ought to work.”
When she said nothing, he studied her. He was irrationally content to be in her presence, though he disapproved of the dark circles beneath her eyes. She looked thinner than the last time he’d seen her, and she couldn’t afford to miss the weight. That bothered him. This job was supposed to ease her burdens, not add to them.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
She let out a ragged laugh. “I had a moment today when I was convinced everything was crap. I honestly thought I needed to toss out every recipe and start again from scratch.”
“Ah,” Trey said. “That’s when you sent your crew home.”
“I wish. I sent them home an hour later after my head chef told me I’d better. When every other word I say is ‘fuck,’ he knows it’s time to rein me in.”
“Smart man.”
“Good man.” She took another swig from the bottle.
“You know, Rebecca, Monday night doesn’t have to be perfect.”
“Sure it does. Trying to be perfect is what keeps me sane.” She said it wryly, but he sensed it wasn’t a joke. Worried, he wrapped his hand on her bare forearm. He didn’t like that she eased away.
“Sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t be laying my doubts on you.”
“Why not? Can’t we be friends as well as employer and employee?” Though he strove to say this lightly, he wasn’t certain he’d pulled it off.
Rebecca’s big gray eyes rose to his. The steadiness at her center seemed to look straight into his heart. Fuck, he wanted her. His cock was abruptly aching, his chest tight with longing to nestle her against it.
“Can men and women be friends?” she asked.
“Sometimes,” he answered cautiously.
“Do you have any?”
“You’ve got me there,” he confessed ruefully.
“Raoul is my friend, but he’s married. And older. I think I’m kind of a daughter to him. Maybe men and women can be friends as long as they don’t want to have sex.”
She made him sadder than he could say—not for philosophical reasons, but because he craved a tie to her. If friendship were all she’d give him, he’d take it.
“I like to think,” he said, “that with the proper motivation, people can set aside one sort of desire in favor of another.”
Rebecca burst out laughing. “I think I’m drunk,” she said. “That actually sounded good to me.”
“Maybe I should take you home.”
She looked at him. Her pupils were dark with wanting and something else, something that went deeper than attraction. Did she know it was there? Would she let it matter? She reached out, fingers brushing the hand he’d flattened on the table. Though her touch retreated almost at once, tingles radiated up his arm.