Chapter Six
Alice
Go, Alice. You can do it. I repeat this over and over as I push myself to the limit, hoping to reach the six-mile mark today. I try to increase the limit each Monday. Training for a marathon requires as much mental discipline as it does physical strength.
Once I cross the mark, I slow to a walking pace, breathing in deeply. The afternoon air is cool and humid, and judging by the dark gray clouds hanging low in the sky, we’re in for rain later on. I hate rainy evenings—people prefer to remain indoors and order in, which is bad for business.
I head into the restaurant through the back door. I keep training equipment at both my restaurants and often go for a run during downtime, which is usually between three and five. When Blue Moon opens, I’ll keep equipment there too.
My office is equipped with a shower and I hop right in, mentally going through my to-do list, which is growing to epic proportions what with the opening of the third location—even though Blake is doing most of the work, bless him. I shudder thinking what my workload will look like once the location is open, but I’ll have to learn to delegate better. Right now I suck at it. I have managers in each of the locations, but I double-check everything they do so thoroughly that I might as well do the job myself. I have no idea how Logan and Sebastian built Bennett Enterprises, or how they run that mammoth. Pippa, Christopher, and Max all work there too. They make quite the unstoppable team.
Once I’m dressed again and ready for work, I check my phone, which I didn’t have with me while running. I have ten missed calls from various business partners, as well as messages from Nate. We haven’t seen each other since Thursday.
Nate: I have some great news.
I check the time he sent me the message, ignoring my quickening pulse. Five minutes ago.
Alice: Do tell.
Nate: Nah, it has to be delivered in person. Can I come by for a quick snack? I’m in the neighborhood.
Alice: Sure. I can have lunch ready for you when you drop by if you tell me what you want.
Nate: Already had lunch, but I won’t say no to a snack.
Alice: Done.
I try not to get ahead of myself imagining what the good news might be, so instead I focus on my to-do list. Thank God for downtime. Usually that means having about five to eight guests, but today there is just one, Colin. He works nearby and often has a late lunch here. Unfortunately, he’s also asked me out, and I’ve turned him down often enough that it’s almost embarrassing to meet his eye. We’ve chatted often enough for me to realize we have nothing in common. I’m not looking to date for the sake of dating or to have some action under the sheets. I simply don’t have any more energy to pursue things I know will go nowhere. I greet him politely but then avoid further interaction while arranging the centerpieces on the rest of the tables. At the end, I bring him the bill, since all my servers are on break. And then he makes his move.
“Alice, do you have time to grab a drink tonight?” His voice is low, clearly intending to come off as seductive. Despite his best efforts and his English accent, he fails to incite an appropriate reaction in me. My pulse isn’t quickening. There are no butterflies in my stomach. Still, I don’t find it in myself to wipe the hopeful smile off his face. I might be known for my take-no-prisoners attitude, but I’m not heartless. On the other hand, how often am I supposed to tell him no before he stops insisting? I decide to go with an ‘It’s not you, it’s me’ explanation. Truthfully, it is me.
“Colin, I’m not looking to date right now. I can offer you friendship but nothing more.”
His smile doesn’t fade. “I’ll wear you down. Have a nice day.”
Great. Not what I was hoping for, but before I can come back with a firmer statement, he winks and takes off. It’s only as I watch him walk out through the front door that I see Nate was inside already, sitting at a table. Damn, did he listen to our conversation?
“I didn’t hear you come in.”
“Saw you were busy, so I kept quiet. So, this Colin guy—”
“None of your business.”
His shit-eating grin tells me he indeed listened to the conversation. “You could have been firmer. Now he’ll keep pestering you.”
“Maybe I’ll change my mind,” I tease.
His grin fades a tad. “So you’ll go out with him?”
I give a noncommittal shrug, curious to see where he’s going with this.
“What do you see in him?”
“He’s a nice guy!”
“He’s a wimp.”
“You don’t even know him.”
“What else?”
“What else what?”
“What else do you like in him?”
“His British accent.”
Nate snorts, shaking his head. “I’ll never understand women’s fascination with the British accent. Anyone can fake it. ‘I’ll have a bloody gin tonic, please.’”
I dismiss his impression of an accent with a wave of my hand. “Fake accents are like fake orgasms. All noise, no substance.”
Nate’s irises instantly darken and he rises from the table, stalking in my direction.
“If you had to fake orgasms, you’ve been dating the wrong men, love.”
Damn. He says that typical British endearment word without any accent, but I’m tempted to double-check if my underwear is still in place or if it spontaneously vanished into thin air. I’m in such trouble. Shrugging one shoulder, I try not to let on how much his proximity affects me. I’m not sure I’m succeeding.
“That’s why I’m still looking.”
“A word of advice? Colin won’t cut it.”
“Because he’s nice? Nice guys don’t hurt women.”
“Getting bored to death is also a form of pain. Should be officially considered an affliction.”
“You know what’s a pain? You!” I point my forefinger at him, following every word with a sharp tap on his chest. “You’re a pain in my ass.”
“Why, because I’m telling you the truth?”
“Yes,” I admit, dropping my hand to the side, recognizing defeat. “I was just messing with you. I have no intentions of going out with Colin. Turned him down a couple of times, but he’s persistent.”
“Be firmer.”
“I will next time. He weaseled out before I could today.” Out of the corner of my eye, a movement at the entrance of the restaurant catches my eye. “Damn, he’s coming back.”
“You want him to stop asking you out?”
“Yes.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah.”
“I have an idea. Are you game for anything?”
Licking my lips, I avert my gaze from his mouth to a spot on his shirt. “Yeah. What do you have in mind?”
The bastard kisses me. The second his mouth covers mine, everything around us fades. Aligning his body with mine, he pushes me against the counter, lighting a match inside me, setting free all my pent-up desire. His lips are rough, scorching everything in their path. He kisses me like a man possessed, exploring my mouth, tasting and probing and demanding.
Somewhere at the back of my mind lurks the thought that this is all for show, but it sure as hell feels real. I become aware of all the points of contact between our bodies, of the slight tremor in his chest, as if he’s fighting hard to control himself. My hands move along his chest of their own accord, shamelessly touching him. I start with the taut swell of his skin over his broad, strong shoulders, then lower my fingers to the defined squares of his abs. A smart woman with more self-restraint than me would stop there, but a haze of lust has befuddled my neurons. As such, I lower my hand even more until I reach the dent of his obliques. A groan reverberates from deep inside him. My fantasy supplies a terribly detailed mental image of the V formed by said oblique muscles. I imagine there is a dusting of hair starting under his navel and leading into his boxers.
Nate intensifies the kiss, his tongue inviting mine to dance in a maddening rhythm. One of his hands cups the side of my jaw, protective and possessive in equal measure. The other hand explores me. Feeling the slightly callused pads of his fingers trail along my exposed forearm is pure torture, lighting up all my nerve endings. When he reaches my shoulder, his thumb moves in small circles down to my clavicle, resting at the base of my neck. I legitimately fear I might spontaneously combust.
Desperately needing a mouthful of fresh air, I pull back. Nate rests his lips at the corner of my mouth. His hot breath caresses the skin on my cheeks, and the sharp rhythm of his inhales and exhales betrays how deeply this kiss affected him. I swear the air between us crackles. He steps back and I instantly move to the right, desperately needing to put some distance between us. Glancing toward the entrance, I notice Colin’s gone. That’s when it hits me how rude this was to Colin. I’d just told him I’m not interested in dating. It was also unprofessional. Granted, my servers are on their break, but someone could have still walked in.
“What was I thinking? Putting on a show?” I mutter on a groan.
Nate doesn’t miss a beat. “I didn’t give you a chance to think. As you can see, it worked out great.” A satisfied grin spreads on his features as he steps in my direction.
I almost jump back, pointing a menacing finger at him. “Stay where you are. I haven’t been kissed this good in a long while. My hormones can’t be trusted.”
And lo and behold, my legendary no-filter answers finally decided to make an appearance—at the most inappropriate of times, of course. Nate bursts out laughing, ignoring my warning and closing the distance between us.
“Always happy to be at your service.” His voice is low and husky. With every word, a warm breath lands on my cheek. It feels like velvet against my skin. I want to wrap it around myself and sleep cocooned in that velvety warmth.
Breathing in and out, I try to gather my wits. It’s a difficult task, given how everything about Nate is overwhelming. The mere memory of our kiss is enough to turn me on and, most dangerously, have me wanting a repeat.
“The news you mentioned?”
“Right. The Delicious Dining team wants to move forward. They want to include all your restaurants in the feature.”
“Wow. I can’t believe this. Thank you so much.”
“As a next step, they’d like to meet with you in about two weeks.”
“Blake too?”
“Their focus is on restaurants, so they specifically asked to see you.”
“Got it. What do you want for a snack?”
“It’s safest if I go now. Otherwise, I might do something crazy.” He smiles at me, and I warm all over again. Oh my. I can still taste him on my lips and tell the exact places where he touched my waist and the back of my head.
“Okay.” I won’t lie; I was hoping he’d stick around a while longer, although for what purpose exactly, I’m not sure. Well, we could find plenty of purposes like kissing, ripping each other’s clothes off. Damn, I can’t follow this line of thought. It’s dangerous.
I walk him to the restaurant entrance in silence, mulling over how one kiss can affect me so much. In my defense, it was a scorching-hot kiss. As he bids me goodbye in the doorway, he leans in.
“Alice?”
“Yeah?”
“That was one hell of a kiss.”