Nicole
My phone vibrates under my pillow.
I'm dozing off, and it instantly shakes me awake. It's a light, familiar buzz that always leaves me shuffling my hands through my pillows and sheets, scrambling to answer it before the caller is sent to voice mail.
What if it's someone for the restaurant? Or family? Or?
I know you shouldn't sleep with your cell phone next to your head, let alone in your bed, but I can't help it. I panic if I don't have it nearby.
"Hello?"
"I need you."
It takes me a few seconds to realize who it is.
"What time is it?" I ask, looking over at the clock on my nightstand.
"The night's still young—come over," Palmer says.
His voice is smooth and deep, like coffee and cream, and despite the fact that I'm tired, I find myself saying yes.
"Good," he says. "I'll text you my address. See you soon."
And just like that, the phone line goes dead.
I toss my phone onto my nightstand and wonder what in the hell I'm doing.
I don't understand why I'm leaving. It's the middle of the night, and I'm perfectly comfortable between my sheets. I started my night with a hot bath, and freshly shaved legs.
And let me tell you … I don't think there's any better feeling than freshly shaved legs against clean, cool sheets. It's heaven.
But here I am, agreeing to get out of bed and drive over to Palmer's place.
I swing my feet out of bed and grab my clothes. I don't have the energy to put on anything more than jeans and a t-shirt, so I quickly dress, throw a thin coat of red lipstick, light mascara, and then drag a brush through my hair before pulling it up into a messy bun on top of my head.
Tomorrow I have a long drive ahead of me—hours. I promised to meet my family for lunch, which is going to be exhausting, dodging my mothers questions about why I'm not married yet and when I'm going to giver her grandkids, and my dad asking me when I'm going to put this restaurant stuff behind me.
He doesn't take it seriously because he doesn't understand food. And he certainly doesn't see this restaurant as something I should pursue for the rest of my life.
I love my family, but sometimes they're a bit … much.
I should be sleeping.
But I can't … not after hearing his voice.
Why can't I just forget about him? When the Pearl on Park first opened its doors next to The Old Tale, I never would've imagined that I'd be feeling this way about Chef Palmer.
He's the competition. I mean, what am I thinking?
I take one last look at my face in the mirror. I've never considered myself an especially beautiful woman… I'm more likely to be considered "cute" than "pretty" but here I am, being pursued by one of the most eligible … and I'll admit hottest … bachelors of the culinary world.
But could I really see myself dating a guy who might ruin my business?
I stop myself just short of answering that question.
I justify it by saying at least Palmer is the best sex I've ever had.
I'm talking mind-blowingly good.
Sex like that is hard to walk away from.
I look at the clock and am reminded that it's only getting later, so I grab my purse and keys, and leave the apartment.
Once in the car, I type in Palmer's address and wait for the GPS to route me.
I look down at the map. Swanky neighborhood, I say to myself. But what did I expect? Palmer is a culinary rock star.
As soon as my phone says, "You've arrived at your destination," I look up and see just how breathtaking his apartment is.
A valet parks my car, and a doorman ushers me inside.
"I'm looking for Chef Palmer," I say.
"Is he expecting you?"
"Yes, he is."
"One minute," he says, making a quick phone call, and I can only assume that Palmer tells him to let me through because immediately he says, "Right this way, ma'am."
I walk to the elevator and as soon as I step in and see the door close behind me, my heart starts to thump in my chest. It's beating to a whole new drum, as if it has a mind of its own.
My heart and mind are racing in equal measures. Why am I so nervous? This isn't the first time I've met with Palmer … but it is the first time I'm meeting him at his apartment, in his space … not mine. And for some reason, it makes everything feel so different.
It's new, and it makes me feel vulnerable.
I watch the elevator climb to the top penthouse suite, and as soon as the door dings open, I take one last deep breath and step out.
Everything about this building screams luxury. It couldn't be more opposite from my own apartment. Finally, at the end of the hall, I see two massive doors. It's the entryway to his apartment.
I straighten my hair and knock.
It seems like an eternity before Palmer answers, but in reality, I know it must've only been a few seconds. Regardless, as soon as the door opens, my heart catches in my throat.
He's wearing an easy smile and smells like summer on the Atlantic, and I want nothing more than to feel his body against mine.
He doesn't give me a chance to say a word. Instead, he scoops me into his strong arms, lifting me nearly off my feet, and in this moment there's nowhere else I'd rather be.