CHAPTER NINE
Declan
“Mr. Casey?”
I blinked, my mind about as far away from the phone on my desk as my gaze was — currently locked on the harbor in the distance.
Shit. My thoughts had wandered again while one of my meetings rambled on through the speakerphone. Sure, I was still plenty productive, probably three times more so than the average office dweller, but for me, my attention was definitely split between business deals and Amelia Byrne.
That damn kiss had knocked me just enough off-kilter that I’d become a man possessed with a need for a repeat performance. And then some.
It had been three fucking days since our dinner. Why hadn’t she reached out to set up another date? Women tended to contact me within the first day or so of a date, looking to sink their claws into me. It was how it usually went. I was one of the few businessmen in Boston with a net worth pushing the top echelon, and I was single. That combination made me, from what I understood, one hell of a catch.
So, why wasn’t Amelia trying very hard to catch me?
I had to admit, as shallow as it was, I was more than a little offended by her distance. So offended, in fact, that I sent her another text message. I’d sent her one yesterday morning letting her know I had a good time and thanking her for coming. She’d sent back a thumbs-up symbol.
A freaking thumbs-up symbol.
With quick fingers, I punched out another message, knowing that she was probably headed in to work for the afternoon.
Hey. Have any plans tomorrow night?
Simple, effective. To the point. I wanted to see her again, and I wasn’t going to beat around the bush another second, waiting for her to show interest. Seconds later, the message status changed from Delivered to Read, and I waited.
And waited.
Minutes passed. Then an hour.
When the clock struck noon, I pushed myself from the chair and stalked from my office, grabbing my coat from behind the door as I went. Downstairs, my driver was ready and took us in the direction of The Capstone, and I dashed off a message to my brother as a face-saver.
In the area. Up for lunch?
It was a gamble with Finn, who was an expert in human psychology after the years he spent bartending and waiting tables in college. He’d probably see right through my random arrival at the restaurant, but he also knew better than to make too big of an issue about it. Finn was a pain sometimes, but my brother also had my back.
Sure. Have them call me when you get here. Private room?
I considered it.
Don’t need it. Dining room is fine.
I’d likely sealed my fate with that one, and I was guessing that Finn asking if I wanted a private dining room — which I always did — was setting me up. He was probing me for information, and I had basically walked right into it.
Whatever. Finn was a jackass sometimes, but he was still my brother.
After the driver dropped me off at the front door, I had one of the clerks at the front desk call Finn for me. The hostess must have been notified because she had a table ready for me when I approached the stand.
I just shook my head as she led me to a table directly in front of the huge, open, glassed-in view of the kitchen.
Bastard had busted me.
Forcing myself not to look into the kitchen yet, I ordered an iced tea and my usual lunch — a club sandwich and a dry salad. Despite what I led Amelia to believe on our date, not every meal had a slab of steak in it.
Moments later, Finn arrived with a coffee cup and shit-eating grin.
“View good enough for you?” He smiled over the top of his cup as he took an extra loud sip.
“Settle down, Cupid,” I grumbled but grinned just the same. He’d nailed it, guessing my true intentions simply from my text message.
When the waitress returned, Finn ordered the day’s special — breaded cod with fresh steamed vegetables.
“It’s only Amelia’s second lunch shift, but man, I can see a difference in the quality of food already,” Finn gushed, glancing over his shoulder into the kitchen. I finally let my gaze follow back there and found Amelia in her full glory.
The dining room was moderately busy and seemed to be getting more so, as people were waiting for the harried hostess to get to them.
“Breaded fish for a lunch special is risky,” Finn said. “It cooks fast, but you can’t lose focus, or it’ll overcook and fail on you. But she’s killing it today so far.”
In the kitchen, Amelia was directing two kitchen assistants who were dredging the cod fillets and chopping vegetables. I couldn’t hear her, but she was smiling, and the others were rushing to do as she bid.
She worked the stove and kept a frenetic pace that at the same time managed to look like the most organized chaos I’d ever seen. Her words, even if I couldn’t make them out, appeared to be efficient but not stressed, probably just enough to get her meaning across without wasting time.
“People have to get in and out during their lunch break,” Finn explained. “They tend to be much less patient than dinner guests.”
The door opened, and I heard her call out, “Table twenty-two, order up.” She looked up, and through the glass, her eyes met mine. I didn’t miss the shock that registered at first, but then Amelia shot me a smile that sent electricity straight through me — and directly to my groin. What the actual hell?
I did my best not to smile back like a huge dope and hoped the one I managed was polite and friendly. Not sloppy and smitten like I was currently feeling.
Despite working so close to a blazing stove under such pressure, Amelia was a vision in her black chef coat and with her hair pinned perfectly up in a twist at the back of her neck. Not a lock of that ebony hair was out of place, either. She was clearly a perfectionist in the kitchen. Her cheeks were flushed with a tinge of pink from the heat and the exertion, but it made her look downright angelic as she flowed through the lunch rush with ease.
It was fascinating to watch someone when they got into that fabled “flow” state in their work — whatever work it was. I’d seen it happen with professional athletes and drywall workers alike. That moment in the process where the brain wasn’t necessary anymore. Where the body knew what it was doing and could perform without anxiety, worry, or outside forces breaking the person’s concentration.
And Amelia, working in the kitchen on a Friday afternoon, had found her flow. It was amazing to watch for someone whose business wasn’t exactly flow-friendly. I had victories. I had deals. But there wasn’t an act of creation that I could settle into quite like this. I was in awe. I appreciated what I saw as she moved.
“Close your mouth, Declan,” Finn whispered from across the table. “You’re gonna catch flies like that.”
It was something Grandma Casey used to say to us back in the day, and when I realized what I’d been doing, I snapped my mouth closed and tried to look uninterested. But I wasn’t fooling anyone, least of all myself.
I was interested.
Very interested in every aspect of Amelia Byrne and that didn’t bode well for her if she had plans to skip town soon. That wasn’t happening if I had anything to say about it.
“Not to distract you from your daydreaming or anything, but any word on the new tenants looking to move into the development?”
The Capstone was what we called an “anchor.” It was big, it was new, it was shiny, and it was always full of guests. It was a huge draw when trying to get just the right blend of businesses and services into the shopping centers we were about to break ground on in the next couple of months.
My vision had been for three centers in total. One had been built, right next door to Finn’s hotel. It was three-fifths full already and turning a profit for the business owners fairly quickly. We had two spaces left to rent. The next center would be about a quarter mile away, and we were hoping to break ground in the spring. If everything went smoothly, the third and final one would break ground in the fall, before the snow fell.
It was ambitious and fast-moving, but then again, so was I.
My eyes were on Amelia again. I was fast-moving when I really wanted something, and right now I wanted the complexes built, and I wanted Amelia Byrne. I was still trying to decide on how permanent, but something told me the further down the rabbit hole I went with her, the less likely I’d be willing to give her up.
“I’ve got a couple updates,” I said, returning my attention to Finn. I knew that he’d ask about it, so I’d brought some files with me. “Is the business center open?”
“Two of the conference rooms are being used, but my private conference room is open on the eighth floor.”
I paid for the meal and tipped the waitress before following Finn from the dining room, but I couldn’t resist a parting wink to Amelia before I left. I’d like to think that she looked a little disappointed with me leaving without saying anything to her, but I might have been projecting a little. Either way, she gave me a small wave and turned back around to plate another special.
***
After following Finn to his office suites, I briefed him on what I knew so far, taking my time. I wanted my impromptu meeting with him to eat into the afternoon hours.
When my watch read that it was after three, I knew I’d stalled as long as I could. After using Finn’s office to send a few emails, I said my goodbyes and hustled downstairs, picking my way through the now empty restaurant, hoping I wasn’t too late.
Sure enough, just as I made it past the empty hostess stand — the restaurant was now closed until dinner service started at five — I saw Amelia coming through the door that separated the kitchen from the dining room. She stopped short when she saw me.
“Oh,” she breathed, a slight frown on her brow.
“Oh, indeed.” I held up my cell phone. “You never responded, so I’m here in person to get my answer.”
She gave me a scrutinizing look that lasted a moment too long before she smiled, nearly charming the pants right off me. “Seriously?”
“I’m serious,” I said with an unapologetic shrug. “I don’t like to be ignored. So, dinner? Tomorrow?”
She scratched her forehead and her gaze dropped to my throat, and my heart just about stopped beating. Was she going to tell me no?
“Yes.” Her gaze lifted, meeting mine, and I started breathing again. She smiled, and it was like a punch in the gut. “That sounds great.”
I swallowed, trying to work up enough spit to say something. This woman had me twisted into a thousand knots. “Perfect.”
She shifted from one foot to another when I didn’t move, clearly waiting for me to leave.
“My car is out front,” I blurted, and she frowned, the question on her face clear. What the hell was I talking about? “I’ll give you a ride home, Amelia. Your parents’ place is actually on the way out to a site I was going to visit. It’s no trouble, and I want to do it.”
She studied my face for a long moment before lifting her shoulder in a casual gesture. “It’s your gas money.” But I didn’t miss the slight pink to her cheeks or the way her fingers twisted together. I made her nervous. I made her blush. She was probably thinking about the last time I dropped her off at her door as much as I was.
And I loved knowing that.