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An idea is forming in my head. I don’t like to eat out, and I have a big kitchen at home that no one uses. My mom could use good food, too. Like imagine what quality home cooking could do for her.
“Certainly. Right this way.” Bianca waves her hand toward the back of the restaurant.
I spot two brown heads jerking back from behind a door as we approach. I wonder if one of them is the chef and how much it will cost to convince her to leave with me.
Bianca pushes the swinging door wide. “I’m bringing table twelve to meet the chef,” she calls out.
Several people’s eyes swing in our direction.
“Table twelve?” A guy with a mop of brown hair cocks his head.
“Yes, table twelve. The one of everything table,” Bianca says through her fake smile.
The mop-haired man snaps to attention. He glides forward to grab my hand. “Nice to meet you, Doctor, I think we heard you were called. I’m Gio.”
A thinner, prettier man shoves him out of the way. “And I’m Reggie. Love your ‘do.”
I rub a hand over my shaved scalp. “It’s easier this way. It doesn’t get in my way when I work.”
“Of course not.” He nods, eyes wide. “Hair is a real problem in our business.”
I’m not sure how Reggie knew I was in neuroscience. In spite of my six-foot, two-hundred-pound muscled frame, I still come off as a nerd. Maybe it’s the glasses. I adjust them and shake his hand. “Exactly.”
He gives me another long once-over before sighing heavily. “I shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up,” he mutters under his breath as he draws me farther into the kitchen. “This is our dear chef, Lucia. She is responsible for your delicious meals.”
For a scientist, my public speaking skills are above average, which isn’t saying a hell of a lot. Most of my peers would rather be undergoing torture in Frankenstein’s castle than standing at a lectern, so me being a notch above them isn’t that great of an accomplishment, but usually I can string a few coherent sentences together. Not this time. All rational thought drains out of my head when I lay eyes on Lucia. She’s beautiful, and even her hair being caught up in a big white net doesn’t reduce her shine a single watt. Her figure is lush and curvy. I imagine my hands fitting around her waist, my fingers digging into those wide hips. Another image flits across my brain, and this time, it’s her on the stainless steel counter, her thighs spread, my face between them. Her hair falling out of the net. Her nails scratching across my back. Sweat breaks out across my forehead. My tongue grows thick in my mouth. The words I wanted to say to her swirl around.
“You. Not. Work. Here.” That makes sense to me. I nod my head toward the occupants in the room and turn on my heel, heading toward the door as fast as I can before I make a bigger fool of myself. I’m going to trust that Calvin delivers her to my doorstep. That’s what competent assistants are for.
CHAPTER 8
LUCIA
“First he’s a food critic, and now a doctor that can’t form full sentences?” I stare after the swinging kitchen door the handsome man left through, expecting him to return and complete his sentence. What the heck? Aren’t doctors smart? I suppose some could be more reclusive. There are so many fields you can be a doctor in.
Still there is something endearing and annoying about him that I can’t shake. The second he entered the kitchen, he grabbed my attention. I tried to get a peek of him earlier but didn’t have any luck. Plus, I was still trying to fill the order he placed. I mean, it’s no easy task making one of everything two days in a row.
I thought the whole shaved head thing was a joke, but it doesn’t matter. The man rocked it. Not only because you could see the thick amount of hair wanting to burst free—so clearly, he chooses to shave it—but it gave him this authoritarian presence that told you he doesn’t care what you thought of him. Yet, his actions didn’t fully match his words. I have to say I am intrigued by this man. I’ve never seen someone be so direct but almost confused at the same time.
“Genius,” Reggie says from beside me. “He’s got to be.”
“He didn’t say a full sentence,” I point out. Whether the man wanted it or not, he has all our attention now.
“He’s different.” Bianca stares at the closed door.
“So, you’ll give him foot pictures?” Sara teases. A weird tightness hits my chest. My sister could land any man she wanted. Usually that wouldn’t bother me, but when it comes to the mysterious doctor, I find that it does.
