I had my arm around Gabe’s as he led me to his car in the underground parking lot. Gabe opened the passenger door for me and even held my hand as I slid inside his sleek, black car.

He pulled out of parking lot, speeding up once we were on the road. The drive was short, and we stopped in front a restaurant about twenty minutes later. I glanced out the window and noticed the red brick and wide windows, when I saw the French name, so fancy dining. The restaurant even had valet parking, so Gabe and I just got out at the front as he handed his keys to an attendant.

“This way, miss,” he teased, stepping back to my side and taking my hand to wrap it around his elbow. “Watch your step.”

I rolled my eyes again but made sure not to stumble against the sidewalk.

Gabe opened the door for me before I could do it myself, and I arched an eyebrow, but he ignored it. There was a host just inside the door at a podium, and he looked at us expectantly as we walked in. Gabe gave out his reservation, and the man nodded and led us to a table. Gabe pulled my chair out for me, and while I hesitated a bit, confused, I went to sit and let him slide the chair under the table for me.

“Are you always this much of a gentleman to your dates?” I asked once we were left alone and he’d sat down, as well. “Or can I consider myself special?”

Gabe gave me a slow smile. “Oh, I’m always a gentleman. But you are most definitely special, Jasmine.”

I snorted, giving him a look of disbelief. “I don’t believe you, on both counts. You’re more of a bastard when all you’re thinking of is work.”

We were off the clock, though he was technically still my boss, so I was lucky he seemed to find me more amusing than insulting, laughing at my expense.

“I don’t know why you think so, but I don’t just do it to piss you off, you know. It is part of your job, Jasmine.”

I knew that. As he kept sending me on errands, no matter how petty and gave me work to do at my desk, I’d come to realize from the other secretaries that I was doing work expected of me as his secretary. It was part of why I’d stopped being annoyed about every little thing he had me do. Though, it was still exhausting.

“So,” I started slowly, narrowing my eyes at him. “I just have to ask, because your life just seems way too perfect. You’ve been groomed to take over your father's position, right?” I’d only ever read about these things.

Gabe cracked a smile, though it was more grim than happy. “Yeah, I guess you could say that. Never really got a say in it.” Then he grinned. “If I had, though, I’d probably be working at a place like this.”

I leaned forward in interest because that was unexpected. I waited for him to say more, but then we were interrupted when the waiter arrived.

“Good evening, sir, ma’am. I’ll be your server for the evening. Are you ready to order?”

I looked down on the table and frowned. There weren’t even any menus, so how could we possible order?

“Jasmine?”

I looked up at Gabe’s call.

“I’ve been here and tried the food before. Would you mind if I ordered for you?”

I twisted my lips, feeling a bit unhappy about it. But then, he probably only ever had the good stuff, and it would be better than me floundering on my own. I’d never tried French food before, after all.

“All right,” I conceded, though with some reluctance.

Gabe sent me a smile like he knew what it meant that I was letting him do this. I leaned back in my chair and waited as he gave out orders for the both of us. The waiter jotted everything down and nodded.

“Your food will be ready in a few minutes,” he said, then turned to leave.

Gabe turned to me and chuckled. “You don’t have to look at me like that. I promise you can trust me.”

“We’ll see about that when the food comes back.” Then I waved a hand. “Forget about that, though. You were saying something before. What do you mean you’d be working at a French restaurant?”

He shrugged, eyes sliding away from me. He folded his arms on the table, his fingers fidgeting and drumming on the table top.

“I always wanted to be a chef. It was my dream, not allowed. I always wanted to work with food, so I love dining out and tasting different food from restaurants. I’ve lived alone for years and always cooked for myself.”

That… was a bit of a surprise. “I like it, too,” I said without thinking, then chewed on my lip before I continued. “I had other aspirations in mind when I became a secretary. It was the easiest thing I could think of so I could make money to start up my dream. More than just cooking, though, I love baking, and I always thought I’d open up a bakery of my own.”

We were interrupted again when the waiter came back with our meal. He set down plates in front of both of us and gave a short bow with his head.

“Please, enjoy.” Then he left.

I looked down at my plate in interest. I picked up a fork to taste some of the food on my plate, humming in pleasant surprise at the taste. Gabe watched me carefully and didn’t try to eat his food until he saw my approval.

We ate for a bit in silence when I had an idea that made me look up.

“Would you like some dessert?”

Gabe looked up at me, arching his eyebrows. “Would you like to order some?”

I shook my head. “Not order.” I shrugged then looked down, pushing food around my plate with the fork. “I was talking about you coming back with me to my apartment. I could make something for you there.”

There was a short silence, and when I looked up, impatient to hear his answer, he had a small, pleased smile on his face. “I’d like to taste something you make, Jasmine.”

My shoulders slumped in relief, though I hadn't noticed I was tense to begin with. I smiled back, more with relief as I sighed and ate some more.

“That’s good.”

An eyebrow went up. “Why that reaction? Have you ever cooked for anyone else before?”

I shrugged. “I don’t do that often. When I think about it, I don’t have that many friends. But I’ve cooked for my parents.”

“Did they not like the stuff you made?”

I pursed my lips, wondering if I wanted to get into this, but then decided it wouldn’t hurt. “My parents don't see opening a bakery as something I could do. They were supportive when I said I wanted to be a secretary because they think I’m a dreamer and becoming a secretary would be the best thing I could ever hope for if I couldn’t focus on a real career.”

I was frowning down at the table. My family was something of a sore spot for me, and I didn’t speak to them often, ever since I moved out on my own.

“Have you told them about your plans to open up a bakery?”

I glanced up at Gabe and shrugged. “I did, yeah. They don’t think that’s a career, either. They also didn’t think I’d survive through business school, something I’d apparently have to do if I planned to open anything, so they wouldn’t even pay for it.”

Gabe frowned. “Well shit. And I thought my parents were bad.”

“They aren’t really…”

“No, fuck that.” He shook his head and leaned forward. “They were wrong not to support you. It’s probably hypocritical of me to say, but you should listen to your heart and follow your dream no matter what your parents say.”

He said it with such conviction like it was something I could do. It made me relaxed as we finished our meal in silence. Gabe paid, then we were heading out, and he asked for the directions to my place. With light traffic, we made it there in half an hour. I was pleasantly surprised when he parked the car and stepped out with me.

I led Gabe up to my apartment. Then he followed me to the kitchen and deiced on his own that he’d help me bake. I protested only a little, and we started working immediately. He was more help than I’d expected.

Once the pastries were done, we sat down in my living room to eat, and I delighted in watching his expression light up as he did a taste test, then devoured the small pastry in his hand and reached for more. I took one before he could scarf them all down, and was a little surprised myself. Maybe it was just him joining me, but it turned out good.

Once the pastries were all eaten, Gabe turned back to me.

“What, I’m interesting now that the food is gone?”

He grinned. “I was thinking of having double desert.”

As if his words were some cue, my body was burning, and I was aching between his legs. His grin grew into a smirk when I started squirming, a flush starting up on my face. He leaned forward across the space between us on the couch. I leaned back as he did until he had me pressed back on the seat.

“Jasmine,” he murmured, and I shivered at the sound of his voice.

He placed a hand on my stomach, then slid it up. I gasped when he brushed it over my breasts, then came to rest at my throat and started undoing the buttons. His face lowered as I wrapped my arms around his neck, and pulled him into a kiss.