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“Just nothing that’s gonna make me lose my appetite,” Ford threw in.
Nope. Nothing too risqué. Brian was not on the market. He’d have to stroke something else on the chef because it wouldn’t be his cock. Ego would work.
“Wasn’t expecting you so soon,” The chef’s voice was low and croaky until he cleared his throat.
Brian reached out and shook the chef’s hand, clasping his other one over top as if he was just as happy to see him. When the man reluctantly eased his hand out of Brian’s, he was able to sign, “I’m not sure why.”
Ford spoke, and Brian watched the chef’s eyes dart to his brother then back to Brian. Intrigue and desire was all over his face. He watched Brian’s hands as he signed as if he wanted them on his body. “I’ve been bragging about your food to my colleagues. I apologize having to leave so suddenly before. I don’t exactly have traditional work hours. The name’s Brian. Brian King.”
The chef nodded, puffing out his chest under his stark white chef’s tunic. He grinned proudly and gestured for Brian to sit. “I’ll have to prepare something special for you, Mr. King … like I promised.”
“Call me Brian, please. And, we’re not picky, so wow us, yes.” Brian reclined a little and draped his arm on the back of the booth, putting his chest on full display, eyeing the chef. Daring him. “Just make sure it’s not vegan or vegetarian. We like meat.”
LaRoy’s face flushed at Brian’s double entendre… and so did his brother’s. Dana barely covered his choked laugh. Brian had lain the challenge down and chef John LaRoy more than rose to the occasion. Brian was at the perfect level to see the slight tent of his thin blue chef pants. “I believe I will.”
“I have no doubt.” Brian kept eye contact, his hand movements a little more fluid, a bit sexier than he usually spoke. He was glad his brother didn’t scoff. Instead he kept up that husky drawl. “Take your time. We’re in no rush.” The chef listened to Ford’s voice, but not once did he take his eyes off Brian.
When he left, Brian turned back to his brother. Ford discreetly flipped him off then picked up his water and took a long drink. Brian laughed and took a drink of his own.
“You must’ve left some impression on that guy when you were here before. Alone,” Dana said.
“Not that good,” Brian glowered. He hoped Dana wasn’t implying anything. He’d seen him turn on the charm to get information out of men and women. “A few smiles and flirty words don’t mean anything. You should know that.”
Dana held his hands up apologetically. “That was stupid. I know you, B. It’s just… he’s my baby brother, man. Sometimes I say silly shit when it comes to him.”
Brian nodded. “I get it.” It was his turn to appear serious. “He’s safe with me.”
“I know.”
Warm bread and that good butter Brian had liked last time was placed on the table, driving away the tension. They all dug in at the same time. The waitress’ assistant giggled at their robust appetites and was told to quickly bring another basket with double the standard portion. “We got some healthy appetites here.” The waitress smiled. Her uniform was pristine as if she’d just purchased it and her makeup was minimal and pretty. She asked them if they wanted anything else besides water, that it was all on the house.
Hell, why’d she say that?
Right on cue, Dana clapped his hands together and picked up the beverage list she offered. “I’ll have a Jack and Coke and let me try one of those steaming dishes I saw brought out over there.” Dana pointed bluntly at another table.
The waitress nodded politely. “Good choice, sir. That’s the grilled lobster, drizzled with drawn butter, served over a smoking charcoal bowl; and it is delectable.”
“Shit yeah. I mean um… sounds good. I’ll have that, madam.”
Brian and Ford chuckled at Dana while he perused the menu further. “Take advantage of this shit, fellas. Free meal.”
Chef LaRoy also sent out mini cornbread crab cakes, bacon wrapped scallops and filet mignon crostini. The man was outdoing himself in that kitchen. Then Dana’s charcoal-smoking appetizer came out, drawing all eyes on them. If Brian made that dish at home, it’d set off every smoke alarm he had, and his neighbors. Jesus. That was how his last car had smoked when his head gasket blew.
“Way to stay incognito, babe,” Ford murmured. Eyeing the patrons staring at their elaborate table-side display.
“It’s all good. Our guy ain’t in here with all these people. Most of these rich and mightys probably rolled in the same circles as our white-collar criminal.” Dana rubbed his hands together when the seasoned butter for the lobster was set in front of him. Their table overflowed with gourmet food.
