The morning of Tracy’s meeting with Gordon Baxter was a frenzied rush of activity, as she had tons of things to do. She was a nervous wreck. Everything that she did was done with half her mind elsewhere, leading to more than one disaster. The coffee machine overflowed after she dumped way too much coffee grounds into the basket. Her solitary piece of toast, the only thing that she thought could stomach, burned into a stinky, square puck.

Even her lowly hair brush wasn't immune. Some time earlier, Tracy had accidentally turned on a flat iron that she’d left out. It wouldn’t have been so bad if she hadn’t left her brush sitting on top of it. When she stepped out of the shower, she was met only by a molten puddle of plastic and rubber.

If this is how today is going to be, she thought to herself, maybe I should just go back to bed.

Mr. Hayes, who had gone out briefly that morning, walked back into their bedroom and spotted Tracy sitting on the edge of the bed, wrapped in a plush cotton towel. Her hair was still wet and she wore a look of absolute defeat on her face.

"What’s wrong?" He looked around and sniffed dramatically, "And why does the whole house smell?"

Tracy sighed. She wanted to tell him about her concerns, wanted to be able to talk about her last vision. It was, of course, the whole reason why she couldn’t seem to get her head on straight. Who was that man? Could it have been Baxter? Though he was a famous chef, Tracy couldn’t remember his face. After all, today would be the first time that she would meet him in person.

But if she was to confess to the powers that she had, Mr. Hayes could find out about how their relationship really began, and that was something that Tracy wasn’t prepared to deal with. She stared down at the floor between her bare feet.

"Tracy?"

Mr. Hayes’ words snapped her out of her trance-like state.

"Yeah?"

He sat down onto the bed next to her and wrapped his arm around her without saying anything else. Tracy sighed and let her head fall onto his shoulder.

The earthy, sweet scent of his cologne filled her lungs.

After several quiet minutes, Mr. Hayes cleared his throat and asked softly, "Seriously, Tracy. What is going on? This has to be about more than just the restaurant."

His words made Tracy’s heart skip a beat. Could he know what was going on while she slept? Did he have any clue? She turned her eyes up, though she could only see the bottom of his jaw, and stared blankly at the light peppering of dark hairs. There was a tension growing between them because of the silence – her silence. She could feel it like the impending shock waves of an earthquake rolling up below them. But, still, she couldn’t relent.

"Work," she said. "It’s just work."

Tracy could feel Mr. Hayes’ shoulders sink down ever so slightly in defeat.

"Okay," he muttered with an air of resignation. "I understand."

He stood up and walked out of the room with a big, damp circle on his t-shirt where Tracy’s head had been. She watched him go and nervously rubbed her thumbnail over the tip of her middle finger.

It was going to be a long day.

Over an hour later, and with only minutes to spare until Gordon Baxter was scheduled to arrive, Tracy stumbled through the restaurant’s back door with one arm full of papers and the other precariously balancing a paper bag of odds and ends. She hustled through and dropped everything on the long, sleek prep table with a sigh.

"What a…"

The paper bag toppled over, sending dozens of glass salt shakers spilling out with an enormous clatter. Tracy grabbed one before it could hit the floor. Unfortunately, there were about five more that she didn’t have the reflexes, or the spare hands, to grab. The rest smashed on the tile in small, glittering explosions.

"Great. Just great."

Tracy grabbed a broom and started to sweep up the mess. Right away, the repetitive stroking motion let her mind wander back to her earlier vision and the mysterious man in it. What were his intentions? Why was he appearing to her? Tracy knew that she was safe for the time being. After all, it was "his" blood that the man wanted, not hers.

What if he was lying? Her thoughts took it further. What if he shows up at your door right now?

She froze and stared down. The constant drag of nervous apprehension was starting to get to her. Her hands were shaking and her heart was pumping a mile a minute.

What are you going to do if it is him?

It had to be. She could feel it in her gut, which had quickly twisted itself up into tight, painful knots.

A hard, firm pounding sound made Tracy jump, the broom’s handle slipping from her hand and falling down into the glass pile.

Again the knocking came, and this time it was enough to get Tracy moving. She walked slowly over to the door, took a deep breath and jerked the thing open.

At first, the bright light of day made it hard for her to make out the man’s features. Tracy squinted her eyes and bit the inside of her cheek, trying desperately to see the man she was sure would be her undoing.

When her eyes finally came into focus a few seconds later, she saw Gordon Baxter’s light skin and dirty blond, swept-back hair.

Tracy sighed a deep breath of relief and extended her hand. "Hi. I’m Tracy."

Gordon met her handshake with a smile.

"It’s a pleasure," he said and softly flicked his head to get a stray chunk of hair out of his eyes.

The award-winning chef’s features were chiseled and rugged. Even his crystal blue eyes screamed masculinity. He was taller than Tracy, though not by much, and he was already dressed in his newest whites.

Realizing that they’d been standing there a little longer than they should have, Tracy released her grip on his rough hands and stammered, "Come, uh, come in. Please, Mr. Baxter."

"Thanks. And, please, call me Gordon."

He walked past Tracy, who had already started to relax. In fact, she felt like a huge weight had been lifted, though the impending grand opening was more than enough to keep her spirit bogged down in the mean time.

Gordon walked in and set a sizable case down next to the bag of spilled salt shakers. Tracy had been so distracted that she didn’t even notice he had it.

"What happened here?"

He poked the scattered pile with the tip of his black shoe.

"Oh, oh!" Tracy scampered over and quickly swept the mess up into a dust pan. "That was nothing. I was just finishing cleaning it up." She dumped it out and cast the pan aside. "Can I show you around?"

"That’s okay. I'll take a look while you finish." Gordon’s voice faded as he walked away.. While she was busy sweeping up, he made himself comfortable in the kitchen. By the time she looked back, he was inspecting the range.

"Is everything okay?" Her voice did little to mask her anxiety. She needed him to want to work here.

Gordon looked up at the stacks of new pots, pans and dishes. "It looks like it to me."

"Good," she sighed. "Do you want to have a seat and go over the paperwork?"

"No problem." He smiled at her, and her knees wobbled slightly. The man was incredibly attractive, and the force of his smile was something else.

As they left the kitchen, Tracy glanced over to the case that he brought with him. She wanted to know what was inside, but didn’t dare ask. Who was she to question one of the best chefs in the world, after all? Instead she grabbed one of the yellow folders near it and continued on her way.

Out in the dining room, she put the papers on the table where Mr. Hayes took her and pulled the other three seats down.

Gordon sat down across from her and scooted his chair in.

"So," he said, folding his hands together. "I trust you’ve had a chance to look at the contract that the lawyers finally agreed on."

"Yes. It all looks good to me." Tracy smiled and held her breath. This was where any problems would come up.

"Great. Where do I sign?" he asked.

Tracy rifled through the papers and plucked out one with a little, red flag sticking out. She handed him a pen. "Right there, please."

Tracy glanced down. There, near her shoe and in plain view, was the pair of lacy panties that she hadn't bothered to put back on from the night before. On seeing them, Tracy did her best to muffle the gasp that rose up in the back of her throat. Hoping that Gordon hadn’t seen them, Tracy quickly kicked them under the table’s raised feet and bit down on her lip in a feeble attempt at hiding her embarrassment.

Gordon scribbled his name quickly and handed the pen back to her. "Looks like we’re in business."

Tracy suddenly felt giddy. It took everything she had to keep from melting into a giggling school girl right then and there. Gordon, for his part, didn’t seem to notice.

"I know we’ve talked about the menu at some length," he said and leaned back in his chair, "but obviously I would prefer to do a private tasting so that I can get your final approval. We need to nail this down so we can get our orders out to the vendors."

The way in which the confident chef spoke made Tracy hold onto his every word. Every minute of his years of experience shone through in his tone. Anyone could tell, just by listening, that he knew exactly what he was talking about. To Tracy, that kind of confidence made her imagination run wild.

More than that, however, she found herself helplessly drawn to him. For all of the press and attention that his successful career had drawn, people actually knew very little about Gordon Baxter. It was, so it seemed, to be just the way that he wanted it. But to Tracy, it was only a begging invitation to want to know more.

He brought his hands up and rested his index fingers on each side of his tightly-angled chin. His eyes bored into hers, making her core heat with his intensity.

"So what do you say?" he asked.

"That would be great,” she whispered. For a moment she wondered if he wanted to be alone with her for this tasting. In her mind's eye, she could quickly see it turning sexual. The way he looked at her was primal and full of desire. As much as the thought piqued her interest, she was with Mr. Hayes. “It will be me and my boyfriend, Mr. Paul Hayes."

"Of course." Gordon nodded and pushed the contract back toward her as if he had expected that all along. "How about tomorrow night around seven? I need some time for prep and all that."

Tracy smiled. Her thoughts finally felt a little lighter for the first time in weeks.

"I can’t wait."

“Neither can I,” Gordon replied, fixing her with his stare again. Tracy bit her lip. It was a good thing Mr. Hayes was coming to dinner, or she would be tempted to do so much more than just eat Mr. Baxter's food.