Chapter Thirteen
The following two days were quiet in the office. If not a little like entering a parallel time zone as the hours dragged by. Another reason I wanted the cake business to take off. Why I started it in the first place. So I could spend my days doing something I loved instead of mindlessly entering data.
“I'll see you tomorrow. Probably.”
The excitement rolled off Jaz and was infectious as I returned his smile. “Hope you have a great night.”
“I plan to.”
He gave me a wicked smile and I shook my head as he left the office. Off on a hot date, to use his words. Whereas I was off home to spend the night with my cat. Some days I wondered how I managed to cope with the excitement.
As I waited for my computer to shut down I saw Beck heading my way and groaned internally. The man confused me. Had me alternating between being mad at him and wanting a repeat performance of our night together.
“You finished for the day?”
I nodded as I tidied up my desk.
“I was speaking to Jaz earlier and he mentioned that you're starting up your own cake business.”
Great. Was this the chat where I got told that wasn't professional either? “I am. Is that a problem?”
He shook his head. “No. It works out quite well for me.”
Narrowing my eyes, I slid my gaze in his direction. “Why?”
He took a step closer, leaned his thigh against the edge of my desk. “It's my parents' wedding anniversary. They're coming over to the UK for a week and we're having a surprise party for them. I was hoping you might make a cake for them.”
To say I was inundated with orders was the understatement of the year. And an anniversary cake would be much more exciting to make than the simple birthday cakes I was used to. “What did you have in mind?”
Beck smiled at my question, showing off that dimple. And with only that smile, my mind hit the gutter. Supplied a montage of clips from that night we spent together. Heat bloomed in my cheeks at the memory.
“There's a nice little Italian restaurant around the corner. I thought we could discuss it over dinner.”
God help me, but I wanted to say yes. The man had me intrigued. A puzzle just asking for me to figure him out. But instead of saying yes, I couldn't help myself. “Wouldn't that go against us keeping a professional distance?” To my surprise, Beck laughed.
“I guess I deserve that. But seeing as we wouldn't be in the office, then I don't think it would count.”
My bank balance wouldn't complain at a new order. And it would look good on my new website. And who was I kidding? I wanted to have dinner with him. “Okay.”
“Great. I'll just pack up my things and then we can go.”
I watched as he walked back towards his office. My gaze dropped to his arse encased in grey suit trousers that perfectly showed off his round, firm cheeks.
God help me.
The restaurant wasn't what I had been expecting. Tucked out of the way behind the main road in a cobbled courtyard, the place was tiny. As Beck opened the door and ushered me through it, the aroma of garlic and basil was mouth-watering.
Inside, the restaurant was dimly lit by sconces that bathed the walls with a warm yellow glow. Adding to the intimate ambience, candles flickered on the eight small round tables that filled the room. Covered with pristine white tablecloths and cutlery that sparkled where they caught the candlelight.
“I have a table booked under the name Kyle.”
My head snapped around throwing a questioning look at him. Was he that sure I would say yes? He leaned in, lips so close to my ear his breath blew against the shell of it and made me shiver.
“I already had the table booked before I asked you to join me.”
“This way, sir.”
We followed the waiter to a corner table that looked out over the courtyard. He left us with a huge red leather-bound menu each after taking our drink order. I glanced around at the other tables that were occupied. By the way they were holding hands or leaning into each other, I assumed they were all couples. My lips pulled up into a smirk on one side as I focused on the menu in front of me.
“What?”
I peeked over the top of the menu. “It's kind of a romantic place for a dinner date alone. Or did your date bail on you at the last minute?” The thought of Beck having plans with some other woman for the evening had my humour fleeing.
“The owner is an old friend. We have a standing dinner on Thursday evenings.”
I was saved from having to answer when a tall, slim woman with glossy chestnut-coloured hair stopped at our table.
“Hi, Beck. Wasn't sure I'd see you tonight.”
My head whipped up to stare at Beck when the woman used his 'nickname.' When Beck said he didn't use it in the office, her calling him that made me wonder if it was just a name he gave out to women he slept with. Beck raised an eyebrow as his gaze wandered over my face.
“This is Sofia. The owner I mentioned and one of my oldest friends.” He smiled at her. “I even introduced her to her husband.”
Sofia smiled at me but gave me a subtle once-over. “And I don't think he's going to let me forget it anytime soon.” She turned her attention back to Beck. “Do you want the special? It's my mum's recipe for polpette.”
Beck closed the menu. “You know that's my favourite.”
She gave him a knowing smile, and I reminded myself she was married. They probably weren't sleeping together. Not anymore at least. Suddenly food was the last thing I wanted.
“Do you know what you'd like?” Beck asked.
You. The thought popped into my head, and I clamped my lips together so I didn't admit it out loud. He was my boss, and I wasn't entirely sure I trusted him.
The special sounded like it might be okay, even if I didn't know what it was. “I'll have the same,” I replied, closing my menu.
Sofia left and I straightened up in my chair. This was supposed to be a work meeting. I grabbed my handbag then pulled out my notebook. Flipped through the pages of cake ideas I'd doodled until I found a blank page. “So, when do you need the cake by?”
“My parents are coming back in a week's time, and we're organising the party for that weekend. It's a surprise, hopefully, if my sister can keep it quiet. She's not known for being able to keep things to herself.” Mmm, not something that was a problem for Beck, apparently.
Then he laughed. Thinking back over my short time at the office I tried to remember if Beck ever laughed. He had that night, but in the office he was like another person. But then again, didn't we all wear masks? Revealing different sides of ourselves depending on who we were with.
I preferred the Beck I got to see out of the office. So he used a different name outside of work, was that really so strange? A lot of people preferred to keep their work and personal life separate.
Maybe I was reading too much into the name thing. He was planning a surprise anniversary party for his parents. Guys you shouldn't trust didn't do that kind of thing, did they?
With a shake of my head, I tried to get my thoughts back on track. “Okay, let's start with the easy questions. What kind of cake do you want? Fruit? Chocolate cake?”
The look Beck gave me suggested the question wasn't as easy as I thought it would be.
“Perhaps I should have asked my sister…I know my dad likes fruit cake but Mum prefers chocolate. Could you do half and half?”
I twisted my lips from side to side, tapping my pen against the page. “Not really. I guess…I could do a different cake for each of them. A tier each.”
Beck grinned and with the glow of the candlelight casting a warm hue across his face, his eyes glinted, looking more green than brown. When they met mine, his grin slipped but neither of us said anything. The air around us seemed to shift, turning hot and thick. Trapped in his gaze, it was like being in our own little bubble. The restaurant and everyone around us receded. It was just the two of us.
“Here we go.”
A white bowl came into my sight and the moment was lost. It was placed in front of me as a rich tomato-y aroma had my mouth watering. Turned out polpette were meatballs and they were delicious.
We chatted more about the cake and the party as we ate. And I tried to remember the last time I'd been out to dinner but struggled to recall.
When the bill came, I tried to pay. Technically, I was entertaining a new client but Beck refused, snatching the cheque out of my reach.
And when he lifted my coat for me to slip into, my heart did a funny little squeeze. Memories of my dad doing the same thing for my mum had my eyes smarting.
Blinking rapidly, I shoved those thoughts aside. This wasn't a date. We weren't together. Nor would we be when he was my boss.
Beck held the door open for me to leave the restaurant, and the chilly air nipped at my cheeks. It was the beginning of February but winter wasn't showing any signs of disappearing anytime soon. I shoved my hands deep into my coat pockets, my shoulders hunched up around my ears. Beck pulled a card out of his wallet and held it out to me.
“What's that?”
He smiled. “My contact details. It's got my email address on it. My personal one. In case you need to get in touch with me about the cake. I'm assuming you lost the other one I left at the hotel, seeing as you never called or texted. If you didn't lose it, please feel free not to shatter my illusions.”
Ah, did he really think I might not have called if I hadn't ended up losing the card? Well, if Lucy hadn't ended up putting it through the washer. I smiled as I took the card, slipping it into my handbag. Definitely wasn't letting this one out of my sight.
“My car is still at the office. I could give you a lift home.”
That was a tempting offer. At this time of night, the train would be filled with drunk, rowdy people. But Beck at my house? Then I'd have to invite him in because it was only polite after him giving me a lift home. Alone with Beck. Not the best idea. “Thanks, but I've already got my train ticket.”
“Okay.”
Neither of us made a move to leave. “I'll see you at the office tomorrow.” Beck nodded, his gaze dropping from my eyes but he didn't make a move. Rolling my bottom lip inwards I sank my teeth into it. The idea of kissing him again had it feeling more like summer with the heat rolling off me. “Thanks for dinner.”
Beck's lips lifted slightly at the edges. “My pleasure.”
Okay, one of us needed to leave or we would be standing there all night. Turn around and walk to the train station, Kimberly. My feet ignored my brain.
Then Beck took a step closer. Lifted a hand to wrap those long fingers around the back of my neck. Warm soft lips brushed over mine. Too quickly, they were gone again and my skin stung as the cool air hit where his warm fingers had touched.
“Goodnight, Kimberly.” He turned on his heel and strode off towards the office.
“Goodnight.”
And still, I didn't move as I watched him walk away and disappear into the dark of the night.