CHAPTER 24
Lexie had both hands squarely on the steering wheel of her little Honda as she sped down I-95 toward New York City. She’d made good time through Massachusetts and Rhode Island, and was now driving through Connecticut.
The rhythmic bumping of her car’s wheels passing over the pavement divisions in the road was strangely soothing. With each successive mile, Lexie felt an unusual sense of relief that she was moving farther and farther away from Star Harbor. Away from the trauma of the past few weeks.
She remembered the horrified looks on her employees’ faces when she’d told them about what had happened to Buster. The shock and disbelief that something so horrible could happen in Star Harbor. After Cole had held his press conference and Buster had returned to the LMK to a hero’s welcome, Lexie had been mentally and physically exhausted. She’d left as soon as Buster was well enough to take charge of the LMK—a day earlier than expected. After all that had happened, she’d been more than relieved to pack her things and leave town.
Just after she crossed the long bridge over New London Harbor, a train whistle sounded long and low in the early evening air, echoing over the river. The sound seemed to hang in the air as if it were frozen. Lexie looked out at the barren countryside, the brown fields, and the bare trees scraping the late autumn sky.
Before she knew it, the icy countryside had given way to suburbs, and the suburbs had given way to boroughs, and the boroughs had given way to Manhattan.
New York City.
She was finally here. She’d been in New York once before, back when she’d first moved to the East Coast. Bedecked in neon, glittering in the dimming light, bustling and moving, always moving. It was best at this time of day, when working hours were over and the city’s vibrant night life was about to bloom.
Despite all the attractions the city had to offer, despite the architecture, the museums, the theater, and the nightlife, there was just one thing Lexie wanted to see.
Sebastian Grayson’s pride and joy. Helena.
Lexie drove through the narrow, pulsing streets of TriBeCa, and was shocked to find parking on one of the side streets near the restaurant. She got out of her car and stretched, happy to be finished with the long drive.
Unsurprisingly, she was nervous. Steeling herself against her rising anxiety, she slowed her breath and calmed herself as best she could. She straightened her blouse, smoothed down her skirt, and threw on the jacket she’d tossed in the backseat while she was driving. Then she locked the doors and headed for Helena’s entrance.
It was early by New York City standards—just after seven—but the restaurant was completely packed. The décor was timeless, a rich, warm gold from the carpets to the chandeliers, with shaded blue accents throughout. A dark blue banquette sat against a wall with a huge gilded mirror hanging from it. The gold chairs sported deep blue cushions. The linens were all done in cream, and the servers’ uniforms matched.
It was gorgeous; rich without looking opulent, and sensual without looking over the top.
“May I help you?” a satiny voice asked.
Lexie turned to look up at the hostess, a lovely young woman in her early twenties who had a stunning figure and an even more stunning face. She was smiling pleasantly at Lexie.
“Yes,” Lexie said. “I’m Lexie, and I’m here to see Seb.”
The hostess’s smile dimmed, and she gave Lexie a quick up and down. “Chef Grayson is in the kitchen right now and he doesn’t like to be disturbed during dinner hours.”
“I’m sure he’ll want to see me,” Lexie insisted. “He invited me to come.”
“Why don’t you wait by the bar and I’ll see if he’s available.”
“I’m happy to wait right here,” Lexie said, eliciting another frown from the hostess. She couldn’t understand why. Perhaps asking to see Seb was an unusual request?
A minute passed before the lovely girl returned. “Chef Grayson would like me to escort you to the kitchen,” she said, displeasure evident in her voice.
Lexie followed her as she wound her way through the dining room. People were having an incredible time, laughing, drinking, and eating. Crossing over into the kitchen, it was a different world.
The atmosphere was intense. Servers bustled around, dodging busboys and steering clear of the line chefs. Lexie immediately picked out Sebastian’s sous chef, a tall, good-looking blond, who was plating intently and giving curt orders to his underlings. But where was Sebastian?
Then the man himself emerged from his office in his chef’s whites, looking strong, powerful, and utterly in control. From under his dark swath of hair, Sebastian’s eyes met hers across the crowded room. All the noise, all the intensity fell away, and he was looking at her like she was the only person in the universe.
Within seconds he was crossing the room to join her, ignoring the cries, shouts, and questions lobbed his way. Then he was in front of her, gripping her arms, staring intently into her eyes. He must have seen what he was looking for because without warning, he kissed her.
Lexie gasped with pleasure and he swallowed the sound with his mouth. When she instinctively wrapped her arms around his waist, he groaned and deepened the kiss. Licks of fire touched her everywhere he did, and heat emanated from her entire body.
A huge crash from across the kitchen made Lexie start, and she pulled away from Sebastian to see what had caused the deafening noise. Seb’s sous chef had dropped two enormous copper stock pots on the floor. From the sardonic look on his face, it was obvious that he’d done it deliberately.
Sebastian released Lexie and turned to scowl at him.
“Jorge—” Sebastian said in warning.
“Chef, we need you,” Jorge said in a steely voice.
The two men stared each other down for a few long moments. The kitchen, which had been teeming with noise a few moments ago, was dead quiet except for a dripping faucet. Sebastian didn’t blink, but he spoke in a clipped voice.
“Fine.” He turned to Lexie and his gaze softened slightly. Then he pulled her through the kitchen and out the back door.
Lexie glanced around at the small alleyway. Seb’s motorcycle was parked against the brick wall of the building near two large Dumpsters. He pulled out some keys from his pocket and placed them in her palm. “Wait for me at my apartment. I’ll be done in a few hours,” he said softly.
“I want to watch you work,” Lexie said.
Sebastian ran his hand through his thick hair. “You can’t,” he said bluntly. “It’ll be too distracting for me to have you in there.”
“But Sebastian—” Lexie began to protest, reaching her arms out to him.
“No,” he said quickly, stepping away from her. “You touch me, it’s all over. Leave. That’s an order,” he said harshly, wiping his hand across his mouth.
“Sebastian,” she said again, a soft entreaty.
He looked at her greedily. “Lexie, all I want to do right now is to press you against the side of the building and take you, but I can’t do that because I have a dinner service to prepare. So please get out of here before I do something stupid,” he implored.
Lexie swallowed. She got it. “Where’s your apartment?”
“110 Sullivan Street. Seventh floor. Tell the doorman I sent you and he’ll let you up.”
“When will you be there?”
“Sometime after eleven. Now go, before I lose what’s left of my control.”
Lexie was almost tempted to stay, to see what Sebastian was capable of doing. But she caught the dark, warning look in his eye. So she left him brooding in the shadowy alley, a dangerous man with her in his sights.
Instead of heading straight to Sebastian’s apartment, Lexie spent the next few hours walking around the cobblestoned streets of TriBeCa. She needed to catch her breath after Seb’s overwhelming reception, and walking was the perfect way to do it. Though the vibrant, sexy vibe of the area didn’t remind her of Star Harbor, the cobblestone-paved streets did.
Lexie wandered, merging with the crowds when she wanted to be a part of them, walking alone when she didn’t. It was easy to be alone here. Nameless, faceless in the dark. But it was just as easy to belong. To find a place, a group, a restaurant, where you were a part of something.
The sheer number of people walking around the city amazed her. Even Berkeley was never like this. She glanced at the watch on her wrist and nearly fell back in shock. Almost three hours had passed since she’d left Helena. At this time of night, most of the people she knew would be at home, having finished their dinners, and would be ready to turn in to bed.
As if on cue, Lexie’s stomach let out a loud rumble. She slipped inside a small Italian place she’d seen on the previous block, chose a seat at the bar, and ordered the house specialty, homemade pumpkin sage ravioli with Parmesan cheese. The dish was served fast and hot, and Lexie took a big bite, letting the smooth pasta slide down her throat.
It was such a pleasure to have someone do the cooking for her. She felt pampered, nurtured, safely ensconced in the arms of the most exciting city in the world.
After dinner, Lexie leisurely strolled through the city streets until it was time to head to Sebastian’s. She’d tried not to think about him since leaving Helena, about what she knew would happen when they were alone together. But now that the time was almost upon her, her anticipation grew.
She walked to Sullivan Street deliberately, not taking the time to wind through side streets or stop at store windows. The sky was dark with clouds and the unmistakable feel of impending rain filled the atmosphere, the damp achiness that preceded a rain shower.
And then Lexie was at Seb’s building, talking to the doorman, who let her upstairs without comment. Another few moments, and she was at his apartment door.
And then she was inside.