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“Just because I’m a model, don’t think I’m big in the head. I chose this career because I have a really short attention span and I like that every assignment is different. I never know what I’m going to be doing a week from now.” She let out a small, self-deprecating laugh. “Which can be thrilling for someone like me, but also nerve-wrac
king.”
“How so?”
“I don’t know when I’m going to get paid next,” she admitted.
“Ah, yes. There is that.” He considered her comment, then added, “What if you had a more permanent job that still offered variety and a steady paycheck? Travel, even.”
She instantly perked up. “I’d love to travel. That’s another reason I got into the business. But those gigs are hard to come by—I mostly do studio work, nothing really on location. Ironically, that made it easier to, uh, well … apply for a hostess position. At Davila’s NYC.”
Bayli paused a moment so Christian could digest her revelation. He stared at her with an inquisitive look. Was he wondering if she’d intentionally maneuvered the “lost driver,” forcing Christian to play knight in shining armor?
Yes or no, she might never figure that out. So she surged on, earnestly saying, “Unfortunately, my invasion of Chef St. James’s space didn’t go over all that well.”
Christian suddenly grinned, surprising her. He had beautiful teeth that were quite brilliant against his bronzed skin. “Rory can be a bit intense. Don’t take it personally.”
She studied him a moment, then asked, “You’re not bothered by the fact that I’m trying to get a job at your restaurant?”
“Why would I be bothered? I’m flattered you’d be interested in working there. And if you saved that cigar to impress me, more power to you.”
“I saved that cigar for the exact reasons I stated previously—I thought you deserved it for celebratory purposes. Opening a restaurant in New York City to such an esteemed response is certainly worth commemorating. But of course you already know that.”
He took a long sip from his glass, clearly weighing options she knew nothing about. Finally, he said, “Will you excuse me for just a second? I don’t mean to be rude, but I need to make a quick call.”
“Sure.” She tried to appear nonchalant, though she eyed him curiously, dying to know what went through his mind when he looked at her. She wondered the same thing about Rory. Which made it particularly unsettling when Christian whipped out his iPhone and hit a number, mere moments later saying, “Rory, did you interview a woman named Bayli Styles?”
Her stomach launched into her throat. She gasped around it.
Oh, fuck!
Bad move mentioning the interview. Bad. Move!
Rory was going to tell Christian what a complete and utter disaster she’d been the other day and then—
“Hmm, yes, that’s what I think as well.” A short pause. Then: “No, actually, I have a completely different idea now for that project. Just hit me this evening.” Christian slid a glance Bayli’s way, one dark brow lifting. “Let me run it by you in the morning. New concept, new platform.” He listened a while longer, and as he did Christian’s gaze dropped to her legs. “Yes, she does.” Once more, lust lit his ice-blue eyes. “I’ll talk to you later.”
Christian disconnected the call and slipped the phone back into his pocket.
Meanwhile, Bayli tried to remember how to breathe.
She’d lost her breath not just over the scorching expression on Christian’s face but also because that had been an extremely favorable-sounding conversation.
She inhaled deeply, strove for as calm a tone as possible, and asked, “What exactly was that all about?”
“You.”
Christian refreshed their drinks.
“Could you be a little more specific?”
And could I be a little less breathy?
“Have dinner with us on Tuesday night. At the restaurant. I’ll send a car to The Cleveland for you.”
Uh-oh.
She swallowed down some champagne. Tried not to sound panicked as she said, “I’d love dinner. No need to send a car. I’m really good with the subway lines and buses. Got them all down pat.”
