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"They can be. Confession: they drive me crazy sometimes."
Clearly my professionalism was nonexistent today. But something about Scarlett simply demanded raw honesty.
I straightened up as we stepped into the kitchen. Joel was here, of course, along with two others from the crew. He fixated on Scarlett. I obviously wasn’t the only one who thought she was hot.
"Ms. Jones, welcome. I’m one of your sous-chefs, Joel. I like to be early."
"That's great, Joel. So do I."
Scarlett transformed right in front of me. A few frown lines appeared on her forehead as she shifted into work mode. She clearly felt at ease in the new surroundings, which was exactly what I’d hoped for in a chef.
“Why don’t you walk me through the kitchen organization, and then we can discuss the deliveries and other things.”
I stepped back as she looked around the kitchen, making it safe for me to check her out.
Her figure was absolutely stunning. She was tall with delicious curves. The dress was perfect for the workplace. There was nothing provocative about it, and yet my imagination was running wild. I took in a deep breath, then looked away. I had to get myself under control.
Ever since my divorce, I'd sworn to myself that I wouldn't even contemplate dating or starting a relationship. I was on year two of my self-imposed celibacy. It wasn't easy.
I was about to head upstairs when I remembered an important point.
"Scarlett, I do have to steal you for a bit. I need you upstairs in HR."
"Sure," she said. "I'll just drop my bag here. Do you think they need ID or something?”
"It’s possible."
She rummaged in her bag, taking out her wallet. "I'll be right back, Joel."
He nodded. “Sure thing, boss. Okay with you if I start the prep?”
“More than okay.”
Joel smiled, looking at me. “I already like her.”
Scarlett blushed. I pinned her with my gaze as I replied, “So do I.”
I led her through a narrow door connecting to the staircase. I didn't touch her back again. Being close to her appeared to be more than I could handle. Hell, even looking was enough to set me off. The cleavage of her dress was decent, but my imagination was anything but.
"That kitchen is amazing," she said. "I can't wait to get to work. Where’s the office?"
"On the third floor. When did you arrive?"
"Yesterday. I got situated and then decided to come out and explore a bit. Mr. LeBlanc—"
"Chad," I said.
She bit her lower lip. I drew in a deep breath, looking away.
"That doesn't feel right," she whispered.
"There are six of us LeBlanc brothers, plus my dad. Most of the time, I don't even reply when someone calls me Mr. LeBlanc."
She laughed. "Fine, then, Chad."
Hearing her say my name had an uncanny effect on me. I felt a stirring below my belt, and that was not okay. This was absolutely spiraling out of control.
“I’m so excited about this job,” she gushed.
