The kitchen was a frenzy of activity, with white-coated cooks hurrying about while the executive chef yelled directions. The entire scene looked out of control, but upon closer inspection, an orderly system became apparent. Wait staff chopped ingredients. Line cooks danced around each other as they clattered saucepans over the gas range and sautéed vegetables.

Santiago and Abena jumped right in and added their labor. He rolled up his sleeves and barked orders, at the same time taking instructions from the chef who looked frazzled, but whose eyes also shined with the excitement of the chaos. Abena raced between stations, helping where needed. As the deadline neared, some of the wait staff left to prepare their stations.

At seven o’clock, Armando, the maître d’, rushed into the kitchen. He was an older Hispanic male, wearing his signature dark suit and bold gold tie.

“She’s here!” he said in a loud whisper. Somehow, everyone heard him and all activity stopped and all heads turned in his direction.

The chef cursed.

“She’s early,” Santiago said. His voice held the disappointment they all felt. They’d hoped the pop star would show up late, but instead she’d arrived thirty minutes ahead of schedule.

“She brought ten people with her. What should I tell them?”

“Offer them a drink, and I’ll be right out.”

The flurry of activity resumed, at a more manic pace now. Five minutes later, Santiago left to greet Martina and the arriving guests. He was gone for approximately twenty minutes, but came back as the first course, the puchero stew, started leaving the kitchen. Abena and the cooks created an assembly line where they plated and garnished the meals, dropping fresh green herbs in the middle of each bowl.

“You two, out.” The chef pointed at Abena and Santiago, and motioned at the door.

“Are you sure?” Abena asked. She would stay all night if they needed her.

“Out!” he repeated, much louder this time.

One of the line cooks walked up, smiled, and started shoving them through the door. As they exited, a round of applause for their efforts filled the kitchen.

They slipped out the door and, from the front of the restaurant, looked into the crowded dining room.

“Well done,” Armando said from behind them.

Conversation flowed between the guests, and servers poured Argentine wine in abundance. There were smiles all around as guests updated social media on their phones, and chatted and laughed with staff. The guests had no idea of the near disaster that had taken place.

“Crisis averted,” Abena said. She gave Armando a high five, and followed Santiago out of the restaurant.

Upstairs, they both stood outside the elevator. With the morphine-type high of adrenaline subsided, Abena experienced the burn of the last couple of hours in her muscles. She rolled her shoulders to loosen them.

“Tired?” Santiago asked.

“Aren’t you?”

“Yes, but we did it.” He rolled his neck. “Martina and her guests looked happy, and the restaurant will get some great publicity from this event.” He smiled.

“Somehow we managed.” Abena smiled back.

“Drink?” he asked.

She considered the suggestion for a moment and then nodded. “I think we’ve earned it. Esteban has a few nice bottles in his office bar.”

One of Santiago’s eyebrows quirked upward. “What are we waiting for?”

Abena retrieved the keys from her office and let them into Esteban’s office. She flicked on the desk lamp and sank into one of the guest chairs while Santiago made his way to the bar. She took the liberty of checking him out—the broad back and the nice fit of his trousers over his firm butt. He wore the hell out of his clothes, no matter what he had on.

He lifted a chilled bottle from the cooler and opened it. Carrying two glasses, he walked over and poured them each a glass of wine. As he handed one to her, their fingers touched briefly. Her heart jumped, and his brooding pale eyes showed heat flaring for an instant in the depths.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

Santiago set down the bottle, dropped into Esteban’s chair, and propped his feet on the desktop with a heavy sigh.

“You wouldn’t put your feet up if Esteban were here.” Abena sipped from the glass and let the fruity wine wash over her tongue.

“Exactly.” He grinned, an utterly boyish expression which softened his face and reminded her of one of the reasons she’d been attracted to him in the first place. He wasn’t simply an intense, hard-working man. He could be charming, too, when he wanted to be.

“Relax. Take your shoes off,” Santiago urged.

After a moment’s hesitation, Abena toed off her flats and swallowed a greater portion of wine. “Wow, this is good.” She sighed.

“Good vintage.” Santiago swirled the wine and watched it slide up against the sides of the glass. “We work well together.”

“I guess we do,” Abena said carefully. “Are you admitting I’m good at my job?”

“I’ve never denied you were good at your job. You did fine today, but…let’s be honest. Anyone could have done what you did.” His eyes held a teasing light.

“But it wouldn’t have been as enjoyable,” she shot back.

“True. Everything is more enjoyable with you.”

Abena shook her head, ignoring the heat crawling across her scalp. “You can’t help yourself, can you?”

“I’m sorry, I thought you were flirting with me.”

“I wasn’t.” When he remained silent, Abena continued, “No response? No witty comeback?”

“Sometimes it’s better to be quiet.”

“I’m not sure I like the quieter version of you.” Oh Lord, now she really sounded like she was flirting.

He laughed softly. “You can have any version of me you like, Abena.” He looked steadily into her eyes.

She lowered her gaze and drained her glass. Whoa. She’d better slow down or she’d be light-headed soon. Pouring another modest portion, she remarked, “I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

“I haven’t eaten all day. We should have the chef send up a couple of those extra lobsters.”

“Excellent idea.”

Santiago called down to Armando and asked him to put in an order for steak and lobster for them both, with the accompanying sides.

When he hung up, Abena said, “I think this is the craziest day I’ve ever had in the restaurant.”

“Because you’ve always worked in administration. For the rest of us poor peasants who’ve worked in the kitchen, this was quite normal.”

“You’ve never experienced anything like this before,” Abena said.

His eyebrows shot upward. “Are you calling me a liar?”

“That’s such a loaded question.”

“Never mind. Don’t answer, then.” Santiago sipped his wine and sank deeper into the chair. “I have so many stories, but there’s one in particular that I remember. The first restaurant I worked at in Argentina, one night we were short-staffed because half the servers were out sick with the stomach flu. It was the craziest thing. Halfway through meal service, the chef fell ill and left. The sous-chef took over. I was a waiter then, and we stayed in the weeds all night, at the back and front of the house.” In the restaurant business, “in the weeds” meant falling way behind and being unable to satisfactorily serve customers.

“Did the guests notice?”

“Oh yes. All of the meals came out late, many of them cold when they arrived at the tables. We were absolutely exhausted by the end of the night, and for days afterward, terrible reviews popped up on the restaurant sites. We were certain we’d have to close, but we didn’t.”

“How long were you a server?” Abena asked, anxious to learn more about him and fit together another piece to the puzzle of the man he was.

Their conversation reminded her of another time, when he’d come over to Esteban’s home and dropped off some paperwork. Esteban had gone to an event, so Abena asked Santiago if he’d like to join her for dinner. Initially, they stayed on neutral ground, discussing work and the political climate of the country.

But the more they talked, the more relaxed he became, and he shared quite a bit, including the moment his mother died. At seventeen, he’d held her hand in the hospital until her slack fingers signaled she’d passed away. They’d obviously been very close, and his taut features betrayed the still-fresh wounds of his pain. Their shared hurt of losing a parent had brought them closer for a brief moment, and during those few minutes, she’d seen another side of Santiago. No longer arrogant. No longer cocky. Just a man opening up, sharing a vulnerable moment she was certain he didn’t allow others to glimpse.

“I was a server for two years,” he answered.

“How did you come to work for Esteban?”

He studied the wine, twirling the stem in his hand for a while. A frown deepened his forehead. “I had worked my way up to floor manager when I discovered some…unethical behavior by my manager.”

“Oh. What type of unethical behavior?”

He looked at her. “She did things like claim food was organic when it wasn’t.”

“Oh.”

It wasn’t unusual to hear about unethical behavior in the restaurant business. It was a particularly volatile way to make a living and the competition could be cutthroat. She’d heard of restaurants claiming to serve fresh, locally sourced ingredients, when in fact they were pre-prepped and frozen meals. Most recently, a local restaurant had been exposed as re-corking cheaper wine in more expensive bottles. It had been quite the scandal.

Santiago rubbed a hand across his jaw. “I left the restaurant, and a friend told me about Esteban. He vouched for me, and Esteban gave me a shot. I was determined to prove myself because of something my old boss had said.”

“What did she say?”

A corner of his mouth twitched upward. “She claimed I was making a mistake, and she expected me to come crawling back.”

Abena’s eyes widened. “That’s…harsh.” She suspected there was more to the story than he revealed.

“She was a harsh woman.” He shrugged. “But I learned a lot from her, mostly what not to do. How did you end up working here?”

“Four years ago, the department store I’d been working for went out of business, and one of the placement firms suggested I apply for an opening with Galiano Holdings. Esteban was looking for someone to work in the office, but also someone who could travel with him on an as-needed basis. I didn’t think I’d get the job, but I applied anyway. According to him, my language skills put me above the other candidates, even though I had zero hospitality experience.”

“You speak seven languages, don’t you?”

Abena nodded. “English—Ghana’s official language, French, Spanish, Italian, Twi, Ewe, and Ga. The last three are widely spoken in my country.”

“Amazing. So he took a chance and he found out what a prize you are. Now he won’t let you go.” The words were spoken softly.

Abena shifted in the chair. “Something like that. I love it, here, too. Esteban is demanding, but he’s a fair person.”

“I can’t argue with your assessment of him. If you do your job and do it well, he certainly rewards you.”

They drank in silence. This was the first time in a long time that they were in each other’s company and not fighting or sniping. The silence was golden and comfortable.

Until her cell phone rang.

Abena jumped and glanced at the number. She should have been excited to see her fiancé’s name pop up, but instead her shoulders dropped. Feeling guilty about her reaction, she glanced quickly at Santiago, who watched her closely.

“Hello?”

“Hey, sweetheart. Guess what? I’m getting off early tonight, and I want to see you. Where are you?”

Santiago hadn’t taken his eyes from her. Unlike a normal person who would avert his eyes and pretend not to listen, he didn’t give her an ounce of privacy. He blatantly paid attention to the conversation.

Abena set her drink on the desk and smoothed a hand over her denim-clad leg, keeping her eyes trained on the floor.

“I’m at work.”

“On Sunday? They’re slave drivers in that damn place.”

“You know I love my job.”

“I do, but it consumes you. You never have time for me. For us.”

“That’s not true.” Abena bristled at his words. Her work schedule was a constant bone of contention between them.

“Yes, it is, and you know it. I wanted to spend time with you tonight. Is that too much to ask?”

Abena continued to feel the weight of Santiago’s stare. She lifted her eyes and stared directly at him. He stared right back.

She returned her gaze to the floor. “No, of course not.”

“Really?” He sounded so relieved, guilt burned her cheeks. Had she really been ignoring him so much?

“Really. I can leave right away. I only came in to help with a little problem. I’m not on the clock.”

“Good to hear. How about we meet for a late dinner at my place? I’m thinking pizza.” He laughed.

“Not as good or as healthy-sounding as the meal I planned to have here,” she murmured. The promise of eating steamed lobster with fresh drawn butter receded into the background.

Marc released a heavy breath. “After the day I’ve had, I think I need something really bad for me. And I’m definitely pining for the company of my woman.”

Even if she’d planned to decline his offer, she certainly couldn’t do so now. Not when he needed her. “When I see you, you can tell me all about your day.”

“Thanks, sweetheart. Can you order the pizza and have it delivered to my house? You know what I like. Remember, no—”

“I know. No mushrooms. I’ll take care of it.”

“And stay the night. You haven’t slept over in a long time. I miss you.”

“Okay. See you later.” Abena hung up and stared at the phone.

“Let me guess, that was the doctor.” Santiago slid his feet off the desk.

“His name is Marc.”

“Marc called, and now you have to go.” His jaw grew tight.

“I don’t have to go, I choose to go.” Abena slipped on her shoes.

“What about dinner?”

“Cancel my meal. I’m having dinner with Marc. Have a good night, Santiago.”

Abena stood, but hesitated for a moment. She should leave right now and go spend time with her fiancé, yet she wanted to remain here, in Santiago’s company. She’d enjoyed their tentative conversation and the camaraderie they shared, resolving the lobster situation and helping in the kitchen.

With a silent curse, Abena swung around to avoid his penetrating stare.

“Tell me something.”

His voice arrested her steps halfway to the door. She already knew she wouldn’t like what he would say, but she faced him again, bracing for the coming question. “Yes?”

“When is the wedding again?” He drained the contents of his glass before slamming it onto the desk.

Abena jumped at the loud bang. Afterward, the quiet in the room seemed extra loud. “As soon as we pick a date, you’ll be the first to know.”

She stalked out of the office and slammed the door shut.