BURN (The HEAT Series Book 1) (4 page)

"I have a gift for you."

I glance over my shoulder at Tyler. He stepped away from Maribel, Barbara and I when a man wearing bright white pants and a canary yellow jacket came to talk to him. I don't know the man's name. He seems familiar, but I can't place him. It's that way when you work in this industry. You meet critics, diners and friends of other chefs all the time.

"A gift." I hand the empty glass I've been holding to one of the servers. I opted for sparkling water when it was offered. I'm not against a glass of expensive champagne when there's a need to celebrate but alcohol and these heels are too risky of a mix for me.

"It's in the back. I'd like to give it to you now."

The party hasn't slowed at all since I arrived more than an hour ago. I'm surprised that he's willing to pull himself away to give me anything, much less a gift. "Lead the way."

I follow him through the crowded restaurant, waiting patiently when he stops to chat briefly with two of his guests. He introduces me both times by my first name only.

I've never heard him address anyone in the kitchen as Chef. He covets that title, as he should. He earned it. He's the one who took the risk to open this restaurant in one of the country's most crowded and volatile markets.

He greets one of the junior chefs and two of the sous chefs when we walk into the kitchen. Their judgmental glances aren't lost on me. I don't know why I was invited tonight and they weren't.

Maybe Tyler views them as the best of the best and that's why they've been handed the task of preparing the food.

He might. I don't take it personally. I haven't had the chance to prove myself yet. I will, in time. Being in a rush comes with uncertainty. I'm planning on taking calculated risks that I know will pay off. Working tonight wouldn't have been one of them.

"This way."  He reaches his hand for me and I take it in mine. I follow him through the kitchen, past the scurrying wait staff until we're in the dimly lit corridor heading toward the small office.

"What is it?" I let my curiosity speak for me. "I can't imagine what it is."

He flips the light switch when we reach the office door. He squeezes my hand faintly before he gestures to the desk with his other. "There's your gift. I picked that myself just for you."

I smile as my eyes rest on the lone, perfectly ripe, Marglobe tomato sitting on a linen napkin in the middle of the desk.

***

"This is why I became a chef." I lick my lips. "That's perfection right there. I knew it would taste just like this."

He picks up another piece of the tomato. After I scooped it into my palm we walked back into the kitchen. He reached for a small white plate and a knife before he asked if I wanted the honor. I laughed when I gestured for him to cut it.

My mouth was literally watering in anticipation. The first bite was sweet, the second even better.

"You're not having any?" I ask, my gaze shifting from the half-eaten tomato to his face.

"I was going to eat this piece, but watching you eat is even better." He slides the robust slice of tomato between my lips. 

I chew slowly, closing my eyes to savor the freshness.

"If I would have known I would be treated to seeing the bliss on your face, I would have brought back a bushel of these things with me. A crate of them arrives tomorrow."

"If they all taste like this, I'm going to need to be tied down." I sweep my tongue over my lower lip.

He reaches up to rub the path my tongue just traced with the pad of his thumb. "I'll volunteer for that job."
I stare at his lips willing him to seal them over mine, but I know that's not about to happen. My co-workers are still milling about us, all of them feigning oblivion but I've caught their eyes when they've looked in our direction.

"Thank you for the gift, Chef."

"You're welcome. It's my pleasure, truly." His gaze darts over my shoulder to the kitchen door. "I need to get back to my guests. I hope you enjoy what's left of the evening."

"I will," I breathe deeply, finally understanding the appeal of Chef Tyler Monroe.

"I thought you'd wear the dress you wore last night." Sophia pouts before she sits her ass down on a sleek, stainless steel barstool. "It would have been perfect to wear here."

She's right. I could have worn the dress again, but I didn't. Instead I'm wearing a black pencil skirt and matching sleeveless blouse, tied at the neck. It's elegant, understated and something Sophia made for me more than two months ago. It had taken her weeks to get the fit just right. I'd patiently tried both pieces on each morning before she went to work so she could push pins into the fabric to mark where she needed to make alterations.

When it was finally complete, we did what we always do. I stood next to the white, barren wall in her bedroom while she snapped four pictures of me using her smartphone. My head is never in any of the shots so I'm not against showing up for our impromptu photo shoots with no make-up on and my hair pinned chaotically on top of my head.

She has me stand in place as she takes a picture of the outfit's front, the back and both sides. I'm technically the human mannequin who displays her creations so she can upload them to the growing portfolio on her website.

I've joked with her, more than once, that she decided to move in with me because of my height. I may be as tall as most models, but that's where the comparison ends. I like food too much to have a body that would be welcomed on a cat walk.

"When's Maribel coming?" she asks as she looks beyond me to the crowded club. "I thought we were meeting her outside."

I'm surprised we're meeting her at all.

Sophia had stopped at Nova for lunch today. She'd dropped my name in the hope of getting a table. That only got her on a waiting list, with a chance at a lunch reservation a week from next Tuesday. When she texted me to tell me she was denied, I spoke to the front of the house manager and she arranged a seat at the corner of the bar for my best friend.

I caught her on the street just as she was leaving. When I spotted Maribel on a cigarette break, I introduced the two. Five minutes and a few laughs later, the two of them had planned a ladies' night out for the three of us at a club I've never been to on the Lower East Side called Skyn.

We're here now and I can't say that it's different than any of the other clubs that Sophia and I have been to. The aesthetics of each may be unique, but the intentions of the clientele are always the same.

"She's running late." I hold up my phone. "She texted me when we were in the taxi on the way over. She'll be here in just a few."

She nods. "I'm going to wait for her before I order. I don't want to get tipsy too fast tonight."

I was hoping for the opposite. I'm ready to head home already. I was out late last night at Tyler's VIP event and when I did get home, I fell fast asleep but it was short and sweet.

Sophia had woken me shortly after she got up around seven to talk to me about a design conference she was spending her day off at. It's Saturday. I work the dinner service only which means I'm typically in bed until at least ten.

Even if I had wanted to go back to bed after she left for the conference, I couldn't. I was up, cooking breakfast for myself by then.

"I'm going to head outside to see if I can find her." She hops off the bar stool onto her cute pink strappy heels. "Will you wait right here for me?"
"You should wait here too." My eyes narrow as I see Maribel approaching. "She's here and she's not alone."

"That's Tyler Monroe, isn't it, Cadence? Maribel brought us Tyler Monroe."

***

"The offer of a drink is still on the table, Cadence." Tyler taps his fingers on the edge of the bar. "I can order for you. They make a mean vodka gimlet here."

"You've been here before?" I ask with a wave of my hand at the bartender as he approaches. He turns quickly on his heel. "I'm not drinking tonight, Chef."

"Tyler," he reminds me as he takes a large swallow of imported beer. "I've been here a few times."

"Maribel," I say her name before I realize that I don't know how to broach the subject.

He cocks his head, his eyes locking on mine. "You're wondering why I'm here with Maribel, is that it?"

It's not that I think there's anything going on between the two of them. Maribel is married, happily married. Her husband works shifts and tonight, he's on which means she wanted to blow off some steam. I doubt like hell she would risk her marriage of twenty-five years to hook up with her boss.

"I didn't expect to see you tonight."

He takes another drink from the bottle of beer, looking at me while he does. "Maribel mentioned she was meeting you and a friend before she left work tonight. I asked where she was headed. She told me the name of this place and since I wanted a beer, I told her I'd stop by her apartment once she was ready so we could share a taxi."

"They serve that beer at the restaurant," I point out.

He smirks, his eyebrow rising. "I'm aware."

"I should find Maribel and Sophia." I look at the crowded dance floor. "It was good to see you, Chef."

"Don't go, Cadence." His hand settles on my knee. "Stick around and talk to me. There's something I've been meaning to say to you."

"You were right about the drink," I say, smiling. "I may have to order a vodka gimlet the next time I'm out."

"I wouldn't order one at Club Aeon." He motions for the bartender to bring him another beer. "If you come back here, do it. Otherwise pass."

I nod, wanting to appear grateful for the insider tip. I've already thanked him for the drink which he ordered shortly after he asked me to stay and talk. Sophia and Maribel popped by briefly on their way to the ladies' room. They were flushed from dancing, both grinning as they thanked me for introducing them.

"I'm going to be honest, Cadence," he says my name the way he always does. It's seductive, alluring, the lilt a touch too sensual for strangers.

"It's the best policy," I joke. "Honest about what?"

"It's fucked up that you're the woman who was with Trevino." He shrugs. "I can't stand the guy. You were seriously hooking up with him for a year?"

I've never been embarrassed about my relationship with Brendon. He may come across as an asshole to anyone who watches him cook, but he wasn't always that way.

He was good to me at the beginning of our relationship although his immaturity was wearing. When he started to view every other chef, including me, as a competitor, I knew it was over.

"We dated for almost ten months," I admit.

He shakes his head tipping back the bottle of beer, bringing it to his mouth. "I don't get what someone like you would see in a guy like that. He's all talk. I worked with him. He got under my skin."

Defending Brendon's honor isn't on my to-do list so I'm not going there. He's more than capable of standing up for himself. I ignore the statements, knowing that even if I wanted to convince Chef Monroe that there is a good guy somewhere inside my ex, it would be futile. How anyone views him at this point isn't my concern. We're done. My reputation is the only one on my radar.

"Did you work at Axel?" The soft words escape my lips, barely noticeable when mixed with the pounding pulse of the music.

"Axel Boston," he clarifies. "Your ex-boyfriend was brought in to help. He was such an arrogant prick. Wouldn't listen to a thing I said."

As delightful as this conversation is, and as buzzy as I'm feeling from the vodka in the expensive cocktail Tyler bought me, my bed is calling my name in sweet tones that promise of dreams where no one insults a man I fucked for months. He may have been a prick, but he was my prick back then. I don't want to regret the time, and emotions, I invested in him more than I already do by hearing stories of what a horrible person he was.

"Brendon and I are done." I rest my hand on the edge of the bar as I slide from the stool to my feet. "He's part of my past. I don't think about him. I sure as hell don't want to talk about him, Chef. If he pissed you off, take it up with him. I'm going home."

"You're leaving?"

He can't be surprised that I'm not hanging around for more of the non-stop Brendon verbal beatings, can he? "Thank you for the drink. It was delicious. I'm going to find my roommate and call it a night."

"Your roommate didn't look like she was ready to leave yet." He pulls a few bills from the front pocket of his jeans and tosses them on the bar. "Let me take you home, Cadence. I was thinking of going home myself."

I turn toward the rumbling energy of the club, knowing that I'm likely going to have to listen to him berate my ex for at least another twenty minutes until I finally find peace in the solace of my apartment.

***

"So you worked at Axel Boston and then moved to New York when you opened Nova?" I close my eyes as the rush from a cool breeze sweeps over us.

We're standing on the sidewalk outside my building. We rode here together in a taxi, Tyler's leg brushing against mine with each corner the driver took. I didn't move, even though I knew I should have. I liked the contact, as innocent as it was.

Surprisingly, as soon as we exited the club, Brendon's name never came up again. Tyler talked about his career, and the time he'd spent nurturing his craft back in Boston. He was born and raised there and after he had worked his way to the position of executive chef at Axel Boston, he made the decision to invest with Hunter Reynolds and another man to launch Nova in New York.

I sat quietly, soaking in all the details of how we went from sous chef to restaurateur. It's a path I want to follow too. My journey to get my own restaurant may not mimic his, but I'll make it happen. I'm determined and I have talent to back up my drive.

"I worked briefly at Axel NY before Nova opened." He glances down at the sidewalk. "My sister lives here with her family. It made the decision to move to New York that much easier."

"We must have just missed each other at Axel." I smile brightly. "I was there for more than a year."

"I wish I would have worked with you there, Cadence." He reaches up to brush a piece of windblown hair from my forehead. "I would have stolen you away to work with me sooner."