Chapter 4
Darren
He agreed with her rationale, though he was quite stiff in responding to her. After a few more instructions, he headed into the restaurant and spent the rest of the night there, working hard and forgetting about the pretty little maid who would be spending the next few weeks with him.
The night was filled with him tossing and turning in his bed, her voice filling up his thoughts even though it seemed silly to have her on his mind. The strong set of her jaw and narrowing of her eyes as she warned him to back off in the kitchen was bad enough, but her being on her knees when she did it...
He groaned and slid his hand under his sheets, down his abs and took hold of his erection. The need to have a woman wrapped around him, moaning in ecstasy was almost too much. His brother was right. He needed to expand his goals to not only include the restaurant, but his personal life as well.
He stroked himself a few times, enjoying the pressure of trying to wrap his hand around his girth. There weren't many women who had taken him well in the past, but the few who could had left him breathless. He was far too passionate for a one-night stand, unless the woman was horrible in bed. That would be the end of the courting period. Sex meant too much to him to let it be wasted on a lesser partner. It was the cherry on the sundae, the cream in the wine sauce... it was to be savored as it lingered in his mind and on his skin the next day.
A tap at his door shocked him, and he jolted up.
"Darren. There's someone from your restaurant on your cell phone. I only answered it because it wouldn't stop ringing in the living room." Mariah's voice was filled with sleep, leaving it sounding sweet and innocent.
"I'm coming. Sorry," he mumbled and tugged the covers off before slipping on a pair of sleeping pants next to the floor. He glanced down at his arousal and shrugged. It would have to wait.
Hopefully the pretty girl hadn’t shuffled back off to bed and would be there to witness it. As it did with most women, it would either scare the hell out of her or entice her to join him in bed sooner than later.
Fickle creatures.
She stood at her door, her back to him as she lingered in the doorway. Her T-shirt covered her rear, but just barely. He was surprised to see her with so little on, but perhaps she was a tease. He would love that far more than he'd ever let on.
"Go back to bed. It's too early for anyone to be up," he said as he walked down the hall. He had to work hard not to turn around and let his eyes run up the long length of her long, dark legs. Her dark hair cascaded down her back, and the only curve in her shirt belonged to the swell of her ass.
He stifled a groan and moved into the living room, half hoping she would join him. He knew nothing about her, and though it was beyond inappropriate to ask a million questions, he planned to do just that. Subtly, of course.
"This is Darren." He dropped down on the couch and pulled a small blue pillow into his lap to cover his raging hard-on.
"Hi, boss. It's Tiffany. The suppliers from Conga aren't here yet and we need to figure out a different special if we're not getting in the specialty cheese you ordered."
He glanced up at the clock. "It's six in the morning, Tiffany. I'm in the U.S. right now. Why no one remembers our time difference is beyond me."
"Oh shit. I'm so sorry."
"Call the second supplier on the list and make sure you talk with Marco before you call me here again. I've left most of the day-to-day decisions to him. Stop circumventing him."
"All right. I'm sorry. He's just not you."
"I realize that. No one is. Do your job and don't call me unless it's an emergency. This is not one. Figure this out among yourselves and if you can't, then create a new dish. Be innovative and worthy of the position you've been given. Many others would love to have it."
"Yes, sir. I understand. Sleep well."
He dropped the call and tossed the phone on the couch beside him. There was no going back to sleep. Closing his eyes, he sunk down into the soft cushion of the black leather couch and imagined walking into Mariah's room.
It would feel so damn good to slide into the sheet with her. He could pull her close and tuck her back against his front, snuggling his cock between the soft curves of her ass and slipping his hand under her T-shirt to fondle her breasts, which were sure to be warm and soft.
"Ugh. Shit." He opened his eyes and sat up as his heart began to race. The image in his mind hadn't even been too terribly erotic, and yet he was panting softly like he'd just worked the girl half the night. It had to be because of her being everything physically he wanted beneath him. Her aggressive attitude and unapologetic nature were a bit refreshing, too. Just in the few interactions he'd had with her the day before, he found himself liking her.
Standing, he moved into the kitchen with the need to do something. Breakfast. He could make breakfast for the two of them, and hopefully learn more about her. He busied himself with whipping up French toast and a gourmet omelet while the coffee finished brewing.
Realization rolled over him, and he paused, breathing in deeply. She'd cleaned the kitchen. Deep cleaned it. He moved to his knees, unable to help himself. The baseboards were not only cleaned, but polished with an oily substance that made them stand out beautifully.
"Wow. I'm impressed," he mumbled.
"Checking out my work?" She walked into the kitchen as he sat up.
"Actually yes. It's good. Really good." He took her in, loving the tight-fitting yoga pants she wore and the runners’ T-shirt. Her tennis shoes were hot pink and gray, but old and worn out. He liked that she was feminine in her color choices, but the aging of her shoes told him quickly that she must have come from poverty, or still lived in it. He'd been a member of that club for far too long as a child. It could always be seen in the shoes on someone's feet first and foremost. Worn out from working themselves to death and yet not replaced because there was little money to do it.
"I'm glad you like it." She poured herself a cup of coffee and turned, leaning against the countertop. "I'm going for a quick run, and then I'll get started."
His eyebrow lifted sharply. "You need a jacket. It's freezing out there."
"Thank you, daddy." She smiled and took a drink of her coffee as she eyed him from just above the cup's edge. She was beautiful, intriguing and hard working.
"How about you just call me Darren?" He winked at her and got up, moving to the stove. "I'm almost done with breakfast. I was hoping you would join me."
She breathed in deeply and moved up beside him, leaning over to peer into the skillets. Her nearness was oddly comforting. The fact that the woman had the confidence to move so close to him was a little unsettling.
"Looks delicious. I'll wait and go jogging afterward. I can't remember the last time I had a good breakfast." She smiled and moved away from him.
He couldn't help but take note of the way his heart raced due to the subtle smell of her shampoo. It would be so easy to turn and pick her up, place her on the counter and press himself against the front of her while he consumed her mouth.
Get a hold of yourself. Shit.
"Do you cook much?" he asked, trying to make simple conversation.
"I love to, but my kitchen is really small. Like two-burner stove small." She let out a short laugh that told him that she was diverting. She didn't want to talk about her situation. He understood all too clearly.
"That's no good. Feel free to cook here if you like, just make sure to clean up properly. I'll show you how to wash my pans and pots later today if I have time. I'm extremely particular about my cookware. Most of it is from Italy." He plated their breakfast and walked to the kitchen table before sitting down beside her. "Breakfast is served."
"Wow. This looks incredible, Darren." She picked up her fork and paused. "So tell me why all of my other girls went running out of here so fast? You don't seem to be too terribly bad. Picky, yes, and you should wear a shirt around women you don't know and aren't trying to sleep with, but other than that..."
He chuckled. "Do you want me to put on a shirt?"
"No, but that's why you should." She glanced down at her plate.
"Your girls?" He pulled his chair up closer to the table and then worked to cut his omelet. "What do you mean, your girls?"
"At the maid service. It's mine." She took a bite of the French toast and groaned. The sound sent desire racing through him. It took him back to his early adulthood, to the moment of realizing how much power there was in creating delicious food for others to enjoy. It was a mixture of emotions that rushed through him.
"Yours? You own the maid service?" He put his fork down and tilted his head. "Why didn't you say something yesterday when I kept referring to your boss? What if I'd have said something horrible?"
She laughed and took another bite. "This is wickedly delicious by the way."
"Answer the questions, Mariah." He watched her closely. Her pretty pink tongue licked at the syrup on her fork, drawing him in so tightly that his body ached with the need to feel her mouth on him. Would she be willing? He could sink his hands into her long silky hair and help place her where he needed her, working himself in and out of her pretty mouth while she sucked hard and tried to keep up.
"I own it, and if you would have said something negative yesterday, I would have come clean. I don't like talking about myself too much. The girls were having trouble meeting your needs, so I figured I would come and assess why. I'm going to stay for a few weeks, and if we've developed a good working relationship by the end, then I'll send in a replacement for myself. If not, I'll help you find someone new." She glanced up as she took another bite. The enjoyment on her face caused his heart to skip a beat.
Scooting up, he tucked his lap fully under the table. His cock was fully erect, which left the thick tip pressing against the top of his pants with nowhere to go but just above his waist band. He needed a shirt. She was right.
"I like it. I would do the same if there was an issue with one of my customers. I'd spend a little bit of time finding out what they disliked and then redo the dish myself." He took a bite of his French toast and tried to advert his gaze, but couldn't seem to. The pretty woman beside him had his attention due to her looks alone. Now that she'd added in that she was very much like him in her desire to create a strongly structured empire that she was invested in?
He was soon to fall in love for sure...