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His insides pulled taut. She easily took his breath away, wearing a tiny silver dress that showed off her glamorous legs and all that golden skin of hers. Her sleek raven hair was pulled back into intricate knots at her nape with a low ponytail on the side that left angled strands at her collarbone. A silver wrap rested in the crooks of her arms and she held a matching clutch in her hand. Her sandals were strappy, delicate-looking things that sparkled almost as vibrantly as the woman herself. Though not quite as much.
He waited for her to make a move. Knew precisely what she was thinking as she dragged her gaze from his and glanced in the direction of the kitchen. Christian’s jaw worked. As much as he wanted Bayli to come straight to him, he also wanted her to smooth the wrinkles with Rory.
She hedged a few moments more, then strolled through the bar to where Pierre was giving instructions to a server. When the manager saw Bayli he grinned and led her to the inner sanctum of the restaurant.
To Rory.
* * *
“Where’s my rack of lamb and my lobster tails?” Rory called out as he reached for a plate of jumbo prawns and whipped mash and another with a rib eye and baked potato. “I need the rest of my order, guys!” he urged as he expedited the food for a VIP table. Hell, this early in the launch of the restaurant the only customers who could get in were VIPs.
“Right here, Chef,” his sous said.
Rory completed his arrangement of the food on a large oval tray, adding the appropriate accompaniments just as the runner returned from serving the last order.
“Table twenty-two,” Rory told the kid. “Make sure you deliver the lobsters to the right place settings. One’s paired with—” A flash of silver caught his eye. Quickly followed by silky legs that he now knew felt like heaven wrapped around him. “Read the ticket,” he said to the runner. Then stepped away.
The kitchen was filled with noise—the clattering of plates, the banter of the chefs as they worked together to get the orders out on time, the occasional outburst when something went awry. Servers came and went; bussers breezed through with trays piled high from tables they’d cleaned. It was hot and chaotic and also smelled like a gourmet grillfest. Rory thrived on the atmosphere, the aroma, the energy bouncing off the walls.
But all of that faded into the background as he turned to fully face Bayli. Standing off to the side, out of the way. Staring at him. Looking so fucking beautiful that his cock instantly throbbed and micromanaging his staff became the absolute last thing on his mind.
When the path cleared, she stepped toward him. Gave him a tentative smile. “I just stopped in to say hi. I won’t take any of your time.”
“Too late,” he ground out, all the blood rushing to his groin. “Let’s go to my office.”
He took her by the hand and led her through the maze of his employees and the various workstations. He and Bayli traveled a short hallway and Rory unlocked the door. Closed it behind them after they passed through.
Bayli surveyed the space and said, “This is really nice.”
“You don’t have to make small talk.” His gaze slid over her from head to toe. “Goddamn…” He let out a harsh breath. “You’re perfect.”
“Nowhere close. But thanks anyway.”
He yanked open the snaps of his jacket at the neck, feeling much too hot under the collar at the sight of her. “Why aren’t you out front with Christian?”
“I haven’t signed the contract,” she said on a rush of air, taking him aback, as she duly noted. She explained, “If this was just about Christian, I would have signed days ago. But it’s not just about Christian.”
His heart constricted. Odd. But he couldn’t fight the sensation. “Still pissed at me, I see.”
“I was never pissed at you,” she said without missing a beat. “Not at all. Not even the tiniest bit.”
“Then, what—”
“I was pissed at me, Rory. For being so … I don’t know. For not being so…” She gave a sharp shake of her head. Draped her wrap over a chair in front of his desk and set her small bag on the seat. She took a few deep breaths, then told him, “I acted like an imbecile, Rory. And I’m very sorry about that.”
“No, Bayli, you didn’t. You have nothing to be sorry for, I swear. Just … don’t apologize, okay?” His gut coiled. The strain on his heart intensified, catching him off-guard, but maybe he shouldn’t be so surprised. After all, he’d spent the past couple of days replaying in his mind what had gone wrong from the time she’d fallen into his arms at the library to the time he’d stood on the other side of the elevator doors when they’d closed with her inside.
He’d wondered as he’d stood there trying to figure out what the hell had just happened if he sho
uld go after her. Had wanted to more than he’d wanted just about anything else in life. But something had held him back. A voice in his head that had told him she’d skipped out on him for a reason. And he had to let her process that reason and come around, not hound her in the insistent way that was a natural part of his personality.
Even now, it was pure torture to not push her a little. He needed answers. He needed to know that he hadn’t screwed everything up between them. And he wasn’t just thinking of the show.
Planting his hands at his waist, he said, “Look, honey—”
“Can I just tell you something first?” she asked with imploring eyes. The tawny irises glimmered in the dim lighting of his desk lamp and there was a hint of mist at the corners. Tugging at his heartstrings even more.
“Sure,” he said with a nod. “Whatever you want.”
