“Well, if it’s purely selfish, I guess I can’t say no.”
“Glad we’re on the same page. I’ll be in my office when you’re ready.”
I disappear to the locker room to get changed, my heart galloping in my chest. I know nothing can happen, but the fact that there feels like even the smallest spark between us has me giddy.
Eyes on the prize, Aspen.I can’t let my libido get in the way.
Once I’m ready and have freshened up my makeup at midnight—let’s not read too much into that—I head to his office.
It reflects the man I’ve seen create a masterpiece with food. Everything is perfect. Right where it’s supposed to be. Nothing out of place. He strides across the room with a confident gait, but when he takes a seat behind his desk, his face says something else.
“If it’s too much of a bother, don’t worry. I can walk.”
“It’s fine. I just need to send this email, and we can go.”
“You really don’t need to take me.”
He levels me with his stare. “I’m driving you. We already discussed this. End of story.”
“You’re kind of cranky at the end of the night.” It comes out before I think better of it. “Sir. Respectfully.”
He leans back, a panty-melting grin spreading across his flawless features. With his hands behind his head, he considers me for a moment. “I like your lack of filter.”
“Really? Because you look like I’m about to get my marching orders.”
“Not at all. I just have a lot going on right now.”
“All the more reason not to concern yourself with getting me home. I’m a big girl.”
“Remember two seconds ago when I said, ‘end of story?’ I meant it.”
“Of course, sir.”
“The plans for the new restaurant have me worked up.”
“You need some stress relief.” I smile.
“Is that an offer?” He smirks, his eyes dark.
“Oh. I didn’t mean it to come out like that. I wasn’t trying to be inappropriate. I should just go.” I am mortified, even as he chuckles in response.
“It would’ve been a tempting offer. Like you said, though, inappropriate.”
Did he just say it would be tempting? I must’ve misheard him. I’m lost for words, and he knows it. I sit patiently while he finishes his email, then he grabs his keys.
“Let’s go.” He ushers me out of his office, his hand on the small of my back, and it sends a shiver down my spine.
When we reach his car, it’s different again. This guy likes cars. “How many cars do you own?”
“More than I care to answer,” he says with a cheeky grin.
“We live in Manhattan. It’s gridlock traffic ninety percent of the time. How do you even get to enjoy them?”
“My parents have a place in the Hamptons. When I go to visit, I open this baby up and let her purr.” He opens the passenger door for me.
“Do you get a chance to go up there often?”
“I go as often as I can. Work takes up most of my time, but my dad is the reason I do what I do. He’s a chef and opened his own restaurant at my age. He franchised it before he turned thirty. We’re really close.” He jogs around the car and slinks into the driver’s seat. “What about you? Are you close to your family?”
