My concern is that we designed the construction of the water line, which feeds into the proving cabinet, for that specific model. If we can’t get the same exact model, I may be forced to make adjustments to the plumbing lines, which may require approval from the code inspector.
Worse, if I can’t get the same model, I may have to rethink the entire tasting menu for opening night. The bread course is meant to compliment the amuse-bouche, which precedes it, and the cold salad course, which supersedes it. If I have to change the salad, I’ll have to change the fourth course, and so on. Obviously, this would be nothing short of a disaster.
I decide to take this brief moment of respite, when no one is bombarding me with the latest setback, and use it to examine possible changes to the menu. I need to prepare myself, should it come to that.
I head to my office and take a seat in my desk chair, opening up Mise en Place, the menu-planning software program I commissioned from a developer. I can add a recipe for a new menu item and the program will cross-reference the ingredients with our inventory. Off the top of my head, I begin writing an amuse-bouche recipe that makes more sense when followed by a charcuterie course. I’ve barely typed three words before my mobile vibrates in my pocket.
Looking at the screen, I sigh when I see Edward’s name. I’m about to answer, when Alice appears at my office door. Quickly tapping the button to reject the call, I tuck the phone away in my pocket.
“Alice,” I greet her, perhaps a bit too excitedly. “Good morning. It’s wonderful to see you. Please have a seat.”
She looks confused by my request but acquiesces without protest. “I just wanted to thank you,” she says as she takes a seat across from me, and I can’t help noticing she’s not wearing the same color jeans as everyone else. “I didn’t get to thank you last night. It must have taken a lot of effort to read Judy’s notes, and find my friend’s address, and all that.”
I wave off her gratitude. “The apology was mine to make. Though it is very much appreciated, your gratitude isn’t necessary.”
Why do I sound so stiff?
I attempt to relax, but one glance at her curvy body, and all I can think of is the many other ways she can show me her appreciation.
She appears taken aback by my dry delivery. “Okay… I guess I’ll just…get to work.”
She’s almost disappeared into the corridor when I call out to her.
“Alice?”
She turns around and leans forward to peek into my office. “Yes?”
I hesitate for a moment, knowing my only motivation for what I’m about to do is my desire to be near her. There are other—possibly more qualified—people in this building from whom I can ask assistance.
But there’s no one else I’d rather work with.
And that’s definitely not an admission I should be making to myself.
“I’d like your opinion on something,” I say before I can change my mind.
Her full lips curve into a charming smile. “Of course,” she replies, as she enters the office again. “What can I do to—for you? Sorry.”
Her slip of the tongue puts me at ease as it reminds me of the flickers of desire I’ve seen in her eyes. I saw it when we first met in the kitchen during her interview, though I wondered if that was because she thought I was Edward. But I felt the sparks again when she came to inform me she had accepted the hostess position. I recognized the hunger in her sable eyes when I lost my patience with her yesterday.
But it was unmistakable when I fed her last night. Her mouth enjoyed the food, but her body was craving so much more.
“I need to come up with an alternative to the bread course I shared with you last night,” I say, ignoring the vibration of my mobile in my pocket.
Edward always has the worst timing.
“But why? It was perfect,” Alice blurts out.
Her cheeks blush as she seems embarrassed by her inability to conceal her gushing praise.
I purposely ignore the compliment, immediately launching into the problem at hand. “We’re having equipment issues and may not be able to execute the bread course we’d initially planned.”
Execute? I’m speaking as if we’re planning a military mission.
She cocks an eyebrow, though I can’t decide if the emotion behind her eyes is skepticism or triumph. “I hope I’m not being presumptuous, but you seem a bit tense.”
“I seem a bit tense?”
“Well, if you’re asking for my help with the issue, it can’t be that bad.”
“Please enlighten me, love. Should I be unfazed about having to change the menu six days before opening?” I ask as I glance down at her jeans. “And the fact my hostess can’t be bothered to follow the dress code. Do I really need to have this conversation with you?”
She purses her plump lips, and the glare of the ceiling lights glints off her lip gloss. “The jeans you gave me were too small on my a—on my bottom. If they had fit me properly, I’d be wearing them.”
I resist the urge to ask her to turn around so I can get a better look at her gorgeous arse. Instead, I beckon her to join me on my side of the desk. “Come.”
She eyes me warily. “I don’t know what Edward told you, but I’m not a casting couch kind of girl.”
I roll my eyes. “The furthest thing from my mind, love.”
“Why?”
“I want to show you the program I’m using.”
She slowly rounds the desk and stands behind my chair, cautiously putting a few feet of distance between us. “Why do you want to show me this?”
“You want to be my sous
