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“Mr. Hayworth,” she called softly before her nervousness could worsen.
He spun around at her voice like a gun had gone off.
“Fuck,” he said, which didn’t strike her as promising.
“Sorry,” she said, stiffening a little but aware she was trespassing. “The entrance was open. I was hoping for a chance to talk to you one more time.”
He stared at her for a moment, then shook himself.
“That’s okay,” he said with a surprising lack of anger, considering. “You just startled me.” He walked toward the pass-through. Then—belatedly remembering he could—he veered aside to open the kitchen door for her. “Please come in and have a look.”
His politeness knocked her off balance more than his curse.
“Thank you,” she said. “I know I shouldn’t have showed up like this.”
He’d invited her to have a look, but didn’t seem inclined to give her one. He stood in front of her, too tall to see around, hands shoved in his pants pockets. When you were a big-deal boss, she guessed you could dress as you pleased. Today he wore a pale green polo shirt that stretched over broad shoulders. His jeans appeared to be faded in all the right places. Rather than check them out and confirm, she kept her eyes on his face. His dark brows screwed together as he gazed down at her. He seemed so boyish any second Rebecca expected him to start rocking on his heels.
“What—” He cleared his throat. “What did you want to say to me?”
His strange reception had made her forget her prepared speech. She retrieved it with an effort. “I thought it might help your decision to know why I left my last position.”
“Not a mystery,” he said. “Latest owner brought in a new executive chef and demoted you. You were perfectly right to quit. I’m sure you can cook rings around that yahoo.”
“I don’t know about perfectly right,” she admitted wryly. “I could have waited to leave until I had another job.”
Hayworth smiled, his eyes warm with understanding—unnervingly warm, actually. He seemed weirdly happy that she was here. Rebecca tried to ignore how that unsettled her. Nothing she’d read about Trey Hayworth suggested he was this eccentric. But that didn’t really matter. Plenty of good bosses were quirky. With her responsibilities, she couldn’t afford to be picky.
“What do I need to do to get this job with you?”
“Ah,” he hemmed, rubbing his lower lip again. “I want to hire you . . .”
“But?”
He looked at her, seemingly unable to answer.
“You could try me out,” she offered. “Let me work for a month for free.”
“That wouldn’t be fair.”
“Then what would be?” she asked, her determination unshaken. “Because my gut tells me this combination of The Bad Boys Lounge and me would work out.”
His grin burst out like sunshine, momentarily dazzling her. His dimples were as deep as she’d expected. “Really?” he said, like she’d given him a gift.
“Really. I have no trouble imagining me and your restaurant being a big success.”
“Me too.” He put his hands on her shoulders, their size and warmth unavoidably perking up her hormones. “I can picture you here. I can picture us having fun.”
Okay, that was a strange response. Her mind said um, but her temporarily fractious libido urged her not to protest. His lovely hands chafed her shoulders, comforting little rubs like he thought she was cold. Though she shivered at his touch on her linen jacket, she was anything but chilly. Tingles pulsed between her legs, fire spreading through her clit and beyond. Her nipples tightened with a vengeance, practically punching against her bra. Hayworth’s gaze dropped to the sharpened peaks like they were magnetized.
When he licked his lips, her shiver grew bigger.
“Rebecca,” he said, his tone as serious as the grave, his eyes rising with difficulty to lock on hers. “Believe me when I say I know I’m being inappropriate.”
Her mouth fell open as he leaned down. Suddenly, her hands were on his front, not pushing him away but curling into his polo shirt. Boy, if this was how she reacted to a bit of attention, she needed to date more. She was tugging him toward her, and his arms slid warm and strong around her. His chest was broad and steely. As his head came closer, she rose on tiptoe.
He licked a swipe up her parted lips, his tongue as soft as a rose petal. Rebecca’s breath shuddered out of her.
“God,” he whispered and sealed their mouths together.
He tasted like sun-warmed cherries.
Rebecca wished he’d kiss her forever.
“Mm,” he hummed like he had over her food yesterday. “Mm, Rebecca.”
“Mr. Hayworth—“
She lost her breath as he hiked her butt onto the worktop. The seat brought their heights closer. He angled his head and kissed her a second time, his tongue sliding sleekly into her waiting mouth. She didn’t stop him any more than she had before, her fingers tightening helplessly on his shirt. His kiss was yummy—sliding in, drawing out, sucking gently at her tongue to coax it into playing. It seemed like ages since any man had held her, and he was a fine one. She moaned at the heat he stirred inside her, cream filling her sex so swiftly it spilled out. She squirmed on the stainless steel even as his mouth pulled free.
“Please call me Trey,” he said.
“Mr. Hayworth—”
She wasn’t trying to be funny, but he laughed. His hand came to stroke her face, those rowing calluses—if that’s what they were—undeniably erotic. His gentleness silenced her, both in his touch and eyes. The pad of his thumb slid across the top her cheekbone. She supposed he noticed the shadow under her concealer, because he clucked his tongue.
“Were you losing sleep over this?” he murmured. “I didn’t mean to make you do that.”
“You are . . . a very peculiar man,” she pushed out breathlessly.
He smiled, a shade of melancholy in the curve. She couldn’t look away from his gaze, nearly colorless in the shadows but conveying mysterious multitudes of feeling. His narrow waist spread her knees, and her thighs were as tense as stone. Through everything, her hands had remained on his chest. She noticed they’d started rubbing in small passes up and down his pecs.
Trey noticed too. His eyes went dark, his respiration quickening.
“I’m kissing you again,” he warned.
No one could mistake the way she wrapped her arms around him for anything but encouragement.
Her participation seemed to embolden him. He groaned, his kiss turning more aggressive, which felt completely great to her. He pulled her off the counter and fully onto him. Though she clung like a monkey, the difference in their heights meant her pussy rocked against his waist—not the target it craved. Rebecca tried to wiggle lower, which somehow resulted in Trey pushing her into a cement block wall.
That put the huge hump of his erection exactly where she needed it. Heedless of what it said about her, Rebecca threw all her strength into rolling over it.
Trey wasn’t offended. He shoved his hand into the back of her trousers and under her panties. “Fuck,” he said, feeling how wet she was. “Jesus, Rebecca.”
Her name sounded funny when he said it, like he knew her better than was possible. In that moment, she didn’t care. He was hot and hard and she wanted him like she couldn’t remember wanting a man before.
“Yes,” she gasped, tugging greedily at his shirt.
Trey tore it over his head himself. “You,” he said.
Understanding him perfectly, Rebecca returned the favor. She had a jacket to wrestle off, plus a button-down collar shirt. Naturally, she took longer than he had, but he panted flatteringly while she worked, his attention glued to every move she made. He panted harder once her shirt was gone. Her bra was satiny and white with small push-up pads to give her some cleavage. With her usual habit of sticking with the comfortable, she had drawer full of others just like it, bought on sale at a bargain store. She was sure he’d seen nicer—both in lingerie and breasts. If he had, he wasn’t complaining.
“Oh God,” he moaned, staring down at her pebbled nipples. Before she could stop him, he hiked her farther up his body. Nuzzling down into her bra cup, he latched his mouth over at least half of her right breast.
Rebecca’s bosom was too small to be her favorite part of her body, but the way her nerves caught fire as he drew on her certainly increased her fondness.
“Can I?” he broke off to ask, already bending toward the floor. “Rebecca, can I get inside of you?”
His knees hit the tiles, and he rolled her under him. His weight felt good, his heat and the ragged in and out of his ribs. She drove her hands up his naked back, fingertips digging like a cat into its firm muscles. His skin was hot, as smooth as if he’d come to her from a spa treatment. Without a second thought, her legs had spread to make room for him. He looked at her, propped above her on his forearms. The expression on his face shocked her, like if she said yes it would mean the world to him. Who was she that a man like him would look at her that way? Whatever the reason for it, his urgency was catching. Rebecca was so excited she couldn’t seem to take a full breath.
