Chapter 11

Jeremy

“When’s the last time you suited up?” I tilt my chin up.

Rocco looks down at the jeans, white T-shirt and black jacket he’s wearing before he points a finger at my tailored gray suit. “I’m touched that you pulled out one of your three thousand dollar suits to take me to dinner.”

I straighten the cuff of my jacket. “I’m thinking of hitting up a club after this. You’re welcome to tag along.”

He pauses before he smiles. “Are you meeting the woman you told Blythe about?”

I fucking wish I was. I shake my head.

“You were letting Blythe down easy when you said you were interested in someone else?” He strokes his chin. “I take it the friend’s niece isn’t your type.”

“You could say that.”

“So you’re headed to the club to find your type?” He narrows his gaze. “I’ll let you handle that without a wingman. It’s a pass for me.”

“We just talked shop over dinner. A break from work won’t kill you.”

Beneath the bet and time spent together running this afternoon, this evening was always designed to be a business meeting. Rocco’s been itching for an update on the vanilla vodka’s launch. I just spent the past two hours filling him in on every detail.

He wasn’t kidding when he said he was going to order the most expensive entrée on the menu. He did. He washed it back with a bottle of cabernet recommended by our server.

It’s worth every dime now that I’m watching Tyler Monroe make his way to our table. He’s the owner of Nova and the head chef. He also agreed to sell Rizon vodka exclusively to his diners three months ago.

I do a double take when I catch the profile of a woman sitting at a table with a dark-haired guy in a blue suit. I swear to fuck she looks like my Vegas angel.

Before I can get a better look at her, Tyler is next to me with his hand resting on my shoulder.

“Jeremy, it’s good to see you.”

I nod as I try to steal another look at the woman who just made my heart race. I curse to myself when I realize that the guy she’s with is blocking my line of sight.

“You too, Tyler,” I offer with a grin. “This is Rocco Jones, my business partner.”

Rocco extends his hand to the chef who takes it for a quick shake. “It’s great to meet you, Tyler.”

“How was your dinner?” Tyler crosses his arms over his chest.

Rocco looks down at his empty plate. “There’s your answer. Nova never disappoints.”

A smile creeps over Tyler’s mouth as he rakes a hand through his brown hair. “That’s good to hear.”

“How’s Cadence and Firi?” I ask about his family because I know Tyler. Those two people are his life. Nova is his passion. He’s determined to make the restaurant the top in Manhattan, but he’d push it aside in an instant for the woman he loves and their son.

“They’re great, Jeremy. Thanks for asking,” he answers, holding my gaze.

The pull I feel to turn around to try to get another look at the brunette is strong, but I stick to script. The launch of the vanilla vodka is less than two months away and I need all the exposure I can get.

I’ll chat up Tyler for a few minutes, excuse myself, and then head over to the table where the drop-dead gorgeous woman is sitting.

“I dropped off a sample bottle of our new product last week.” I shoot a look at the bar manager, Leo. I hand delivered a bottle to him with the understanding that he’d see to it that Tyler not only got a taste but a sterling recommendation from him. I could have left that job to our Brand Manager, but I didn’t want to risk the chance that Leo would turn him down. Leo’s words are what got Rizon vodka into Nova. I’m trusting that he’s worked his magic again.

“Leo loves it.” Tyler turns his head toward the bar. “It’s the best vanilla vodka I’ve tasted. Leo has my go-ahead to stock it once it’s released.”

I make a mental note to thank Leo before I leave. “I’ll touch base with him and work out the details.”

“Sounds good.” Tyler motions for a server. “I’ll get these plates cleared. You two interested in dessert?”

I’m interested in the brunette who I swear looks like the angel I met in Vegas. I glance back over my shoulder, but she’s gone. They guy she was having dinner with is nowhere to be found either.

Fuck.

“I’m not going to turn down dessert.” Rocco laughs. “Are you in, Jeremy, or are you in a hurry to take off?”

“I’m in.” I look at my watch not caring about the time.

Once I leave here, I’ll skip the club and go to my office until I can’t focus anymore. After that, I’ll head home and catch a few hours of sleep before I face Sunday head-on.

It’s the only day that work is off the table.

“Are you two busy on Friday?” Tyler asks with a quirk of his brow. “I’m having a private party. It’s a preview of the fall tasting menu.”

Rocco glances at me before he turns to Tyler. “I wouldn’t miss the chance to attend that.”

“It’s at eight.” Tyler looks at the entrance of the restaurant where a group of people just arrived. “I need to run, but feel free to bring a guest each.”

Rocco pushes to his feet. “It’s been a pleasure, Chef.”

I stand too and extend my hand to Tyler. “We’ll see you on Friday.”

“Friday it is,” Tyler says as he takes my hand in his for a shake. “I’ve invited half of Manhattan, so I’m sure you’ll both see a few familiar faces.”

The only face I’m interested in seeing is the woman who was eating dinner just a few tables away from me.

Rocco and I watch Tyler move fluidly through the crowded dining room toward the kitchen.

“Sit down, Jeremy.” Rocco lowers himself back into his chair. “I’m not leaving here without dessert.”

“I need to take care of something.” I rest my hands on the back of my chair. “Give me five minutes.”

“Take your time.” He touches the base of his empty wine glass. “I’ll order another bottle of cabernet while I wait.”

I huff out a laugh. “Order a glass of Rizon vodka.”

He tugs his phone from his jacket pocket when it chimes. “I’ll order two since I know you won’t turn down a chance to sample your product.”

I don’t say another word as Rocco’s fingers skim over the screen of his phone. Instead, I turn and head straight toward our server.

“What is it, sir?” he nervously asks when I near where he’s standing close to the entrance to the kitchen. “Chef Monroe told me about your complimentary dessert. I’ll bring it out as soon as it’s ready.”

“Sure.” I lean in closer to him, lowering my voice. “A couple just left that table. I’m wondering if you served them.”

“Which table?” He eyes the area behind me.

I turn back to see that the table is now occupied by two young women. I raise my hand in the air and point directly at them. “It’s that table. There was a woman with brown hair and a man in a blue suit sitting there a few minutes ago.”

He nods vigorously. “Oh, right. Yes. I took care of their needs.”

I shake my head at his awkward choice of words. “You didn’t catch their names, did you?”

His expression morphs into confusion. “Why? I’m only supposed to introduce myself to the guests. It’s up to them if they introduce themselves to me.”

“I take it that means no?”

“No,” he answers back.

“Did he pay with a credit card?” I have no right to ask this kid anything, but curiosity is driving me. If he gives me a name, I can track down the couple and see for myself if she was indeed the woman I met two months ago.

“Cash.” He shakes his head from side-to-side. “Even if he did pay by credit card, it’s not like I could tell you his name. Privacy laws and all.”

“Understood.” I reach into the inner pocket of my suit jacket and pull out my wallet. I thumb through it before I slide out a hundred dollar bill. “I’ll tip you at the table, but here’s something extra for your trouble.”

His gaze falls to the bill before he scoops it up in his palm. “Thanks, Jeremy.”

Seeing as how I never introduced myself to him, I raise both brows. “How do you know my name?”

“Your friend, Rocco, called you Jeremy when I dropped off your appetizers.” He gestures in the direction Rocco is sitting.

“Did the black-haired man happen to mention the beautiful brunette’s name?”

He furrows his brow while his thumb slides over the folded bill in his palm. “I can’t recall.”

For fuck’s sake . I’m being taken for hundreds because of my irrational need to know the name of a woman who may not even be the angel I spent the night with in Vegas.

I hand over another hundred because I’m already in too deep to bow out now.

“I didn’t catch her name, but his is Roland.”

“Roland,” I repeat back.

“I’m glad I could be of service, “ he adds as he gazes down at my money.

I almost reach forward to grab it from his greasy hand. “You were no help at all.”

“I’ll check on that dessert for you, Jeremy.”

I shoot him a look before he walks into the kitchen leaving me with the first name of a man I already dislike. Roland may be headed home with the woman who has been haunting my every dream for the past eight weeks.

If he is, he’s the luckiest son-of-a-bitch on the planet.