Читать книгу Saving His Blackmailed Lover - Джанис Мейнард, Maureen Child - Страница 15

Six

“The chef has put together the tasting menu for the grand opening celebration. I didn’t realize it was happening today, and I promised Brandee that I would go with her to shop for some things for the ranch. Can you handle it without me?”

Deacon looked up from his desk and frowned at his business partner. “I may have lived in Europe for the last few years, but I don’t exactly have the most refined tastes. I am a meat-and-potatoes kind of guy. Are you sure you want to leave the menu up to me? That’s a pretty important element of the party, considering we’re trying to lure customers into the new tapas restaurant.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it. We hired the best Spanish chef in all of Texas to run the restaurant. I’m pretty sure that anything Chef Eduardo makes is going to be amazing. If you’re worried about it,” Shane said with a wicked grin, “you could always ask Cecelia to join you. She’s known for having excellent taste, in design and event planning.”

Deacon sat back in his chair and considered Shane’s suggestion. Since their kiss a few days ago, he had been considering his next move where she was concerned. He knew that he should back off before they both ended up in over their heads. The past had proven that his and Cecelia’s relationship was doomed. They weren’t the same people they were back in high school. Even so, he found his thoughts circling back to her again and again.

So what now? He wanted to spend some time with her. A date seemed too formal, especially since she might not want to be seen out with another man so soon after her engagement was called off. But this would be an interesting alternative if she had the time. “Okay, fine. You’re off the hook. Get out of here and go buy some barbed wire or a horse or something.”

Shane waved and disappeared down the hall. Deacon got up from his desk and went in search of Cecelia. He found her in the lobby directing the hanging of a large oil painting. It was a Western landscape, one of the few nods to Texas in her otherwise modern design.

“Perfect!” she declared after the level showed the frame was aligned just right.

“Well, thank you, I try,” Deacon said from over her shoulder.

Cecelia spun on her heel and turned to look at him. “Very funny. Can I help you with something, Mr. Chase?”

Even now, always business first. Thankfully, he truly had a business proposition for her, even if his motivation was less than pure. “Actually, I was wondering if I could borrow you for an hour to help me with something.”

“An hour? It’s almost lunchtime.”

“Which means...all your guys will be out in search of a taco truck and you will have nothing better to do than to join me for a private tasting at the new restaurant here in the hotel.”

She arched an eyebrow at him, but she didn’t say no. “Is the chef still working on the menu?”

“No, that’s already set for both restaurants. What Chef Eduardo has put together for today is the menu for the grand opening gala. It features some of the items that will be on the restaurant’s menu, but also some more finger-food-type selections that can be passed around by waiters. Shane was supposed to do this with me, but he’s gotten roped into a shopping excursion with Brandee. That just leaves me, and I’m afraid I don’t have the palate for this. I could use a second opinion.”

Cecelia’s gaze flicked over him for a moment, and then she nodded. She turned back to her crew. “Why don’t you guys go ahead and take lunch? We’ll finish up the rest of the paintings this afternoon.”

She didn’t have to tell them twice. The men immediately put down their tools and slipped out of the back of the hotel. Once they were gone, Cecelia turned back to Deacon with a smile. “Lead the way, Mr. Chase.”

Technically, it wasn’t a date, but Deacon felt inclined to offer her his arm and escort her down the hallway anyway. The Bellamy was designed with two dining options. The Silver Saddle was the more casual of the two, offering an upscale bar environment and featuring a selection of Spanish tapas in lieu of the typical appetizer selection. The other restaurant was the Glass House, a high-end farm-to-table restaurant, featuring all the freshest organic produce and responsibly sourced game available. The executive chef was even working on a rooftop garden where he intended to grow his own herbs and a selection of seasonable vegetables.

Normally, the Glass House would’ve been the appropriate venue for the grand opening, but Deacon had had other ideas. It wouldn’t take much to lure the residents of Royal to the Glass House. That was right up their snooty, rich alley. Spanish tapas were another matter. Deacon had suggested that the food for the event be catered by the Silver Saddle instead, so they could introduce the town to what he and Shane hoped would be the newest hot spot in Royal.

When they arrived at the bar they found the executive chef waiting for them. Eduardo welcomed them with a wide smile. “Mr. Chase, I hope that you and your guest are very hungry.”

“We are,” Deacon replied. He’d seen a mock-up of the menu and knew they were in for a treat. He didn’t actually expect to make many, if any, changes. Eduardo knew what he was doing. It was just good for him to know in advance what his guests had in store for them. “I can’t wait to see what you put together.”

Eduardo directed them to a corner booth. The decor of the bar was still a work in progress, but the majority of the key elements were in place. Along the edge of the room, the space was lined with burgundy leather booths and worn wooden tables. In the center was a rectangular bar that was accessible to guests on all sides. On the far side of the room from where they were seated, there was a stage for live music and a dance floor. Overhead, instead of a disco ball, Deacon had custom ordered a mirrored saddle, the bar’s namesake.

They had gone for a cowboy atmosphere with a modern edge, much like Cecelia’s room design, and Deacon was pretty sure they’d nailed it. In two months’ time, he had no doubt that this place would be hopping on a Saturday night.

He helped Cecelia into the booth and then sat opposite of her. Before they could place their napkins in their laps, Eduardo called the first waiter to the table with a tray of four different beverages. He set them down and disappeared back into the kitchen.

“First, I wanted to start with the beverage selection for the evening. Of course we will have an open bar that will provide whatever beverages the guests would like. However, we will be showcasing the Silver Saddle’s four featured drinks, as well.” He pointed to the two wineglasses. “Here are our two signature sangrias. The first is a traditional red wine sangria, and this here is a strawberry rosé sangria.

“Next is our take on an Arnold Palmer, but instead of sweet tea, we use sweet-tea-flavored vodka and a sprig of rosemary in the lemonade. Last is the Viva Bellamy, designed exclusively for the hotel, with aged rye whiskey, sweet vermouth, blood-orange liqueur and orange bitters. Please enjoy, and we’ll be out with the first round of tapas momentarily.” Eduardo turned and disappeared into the kitchen.

“I have to say the best part of my job might be that I get to drink without ending up in the HR office,” Deacon quipped with a grin as he picked up the old-fashioned glass containing the Viva Bellamy.

Cecelia opted for the rosé sangria. She took a sip and then smiled. “This is wonderful. It might be the best sangria I have ever had, actually. Try it.”

She held the wineglass up to his lips and tipped it until the sweet concoction flowed into his mouth. It was a lovely beverage, but that wasn’t what caught his attention. He was far more focused on Cecelia as she watched him. Perhaps Shane was smarter than Deacon gave him credit for. Feeding each other tapas could be quite the unexpectedly sensual experience for a weekday lunch at work.

Eduardo and the waiter returned a moment later with a selection of small plates. “Here we have stuffed piquillo peppers with goat cheese and seasonal mushrooms, seared scallops with English pea puree, chicken skewers with ajillo sauce, and black garlic and grilled lamb with rosemary sauce. Enjoy.”

“Wow,” Cecelia said. “This all looks amazing, and not at all what I was expecting from a place with a disco saddle hanging over the dance floor. I’d wager there’s no place like this within a hundred miles of here. People are going to trip over themselves to get to your restaurant, Deacon.”

He certainly hoped so. The array of food was both heavenly scented and visually impressive. He could just picture it being passed around on silver platters and arranged artfully along a buffet display. “Shall we?” he asked.

Cecelia nodded and looked around, considering where to start. “Do we share everything? I’ve never done tapas before, but this kind of reminds me of dim sum.”

“Yes, it’s similar. Tapas means small plates, so it’s just tiny selections of many different, shareable dishes instead of large entrée. Just try whatever you like.”

She started by reaching out and pulling a chicken skewer onto one of the empty plates they’d each been given to make the tasting easier. Deacon opted for the lamb.

Cecelia closed her eyes and made a moaning sound of pure pleasure that Deacon recognized from their night together. His body stirred at the memory of that sound echoing in his bedroom.

“Wow,” she said as she swallowed her bite and opened her eyes. “I mean, I know I said that already, but it’s true, this is so good. You have to try it.” She slid a piece of the chicken off the wooden skewer, stabbed it with her fork and held it out to him.

Deacon took a bite and chewed thoughtfully. The flavors were excellent. Her feeding him wasn’t bad, either, but he would much prefer to feed her. “That’s good. Do you like lamb?”

She nodded. He took the opportunity to stab a small cube of lamb and feed it to her. She closed her eyes again as she chewed, thoroughly enjoying the food in a way he hadn’t expected. She’d become quite the foodie since the last time they were together. He suddenly lost interest in trying the food himself, and wanted only to feed Cecelia.

He picked up one of the small stuffed peppers with his fingers and held it up to her. She leaned in, looking into his eyes as she took a bite. Her lips softly brushed his fingertips, sending a shiver through his whole body. When she finished, she took the second bite from his fingers. He tried to pull his hand away but she grabbed his wrist and held it steady.

“Don’t you dare waste that sauce,” she said. Without hesitation she drew his thumb into her mouth and sucked the spicy cream sauce from his skin.

Deacon almost came up out of his seat. The suction on this thumb combined with the swirl of her tongue against his skin made every muscle in his body tense up and his blood rush to his groin. She seemed unaffected. Cecelia pulled away with a sly smile, releasing his wrist. As though she hadn’t just given him oral pleasure, albeit to his hand, she turned back to the selection on the table and chose one of the scallops.

She was just messing with him now. And he liked it.

* * *

The plates just kept coming out of the kitchen, and Cecelia found herself in food heaven. Her roommate in college had been the daughter of a famous Manhattan chef, and she’d exposed Cecelia to cuisines she hadn’t tried back home in Texas. She’d developed a brave palate and high expectations by the time she’d graduated. The little diner in Royal had been fine before she left, but when she returned, she found herself trekking to Houston for cuisine with more flair and spice.

Now she’d have access to world-class dining right here in Royal. At that moment, Eduardo and his waiter brought out fried chorizo wrapped in thin slices of potato, a selection of imported jamón ibérico and Spanish cheeses, marinated and grilled vegetables in a Romanesco sauce, garlic shrimp and salmon tartare in salmon roe cones. By the time they got to the dessert selections, Cecelia wasn’t sure she could eat much more. She loved her sweets, but she was far more interested in the tall, handsome dish across from her at the moment.

Cecelia would be lying if she said that she hadn’t been thinking about Deacon since they shared that kiss Monday night. Part of her wondered if that had been his plan all along—to kiss her, send her home and leave her wanting more.

Cecelia did want more. There was no question of it. She just wasn’t sure if indulging her desires was the best idea. There was certainly plenty of sexual attraction flowing between them, and their night of passion would be one she would never forget. But could she risk giving herself to Deacon when she knew she might fall for him again?

It happened so quickly the first time, Cecelia had hardly known what hit her. For a while after they’d broken up, she had thought that perhaps falling in love was easy to do. The years that followed would prove otherwise. No one, not even her ex-fiancé, had captured her heart the way Deacon had. She feared he still had that power over her.

The hotel opened in a little more than two weeks. Deacon had told her that once things were up and running, he would return to Cannes. She couldn’t risk his taking her heart with him when he left. A few weeks didn’t seem like much time to be together, but Deacon was a well-known commodity to Cecelia. She knew the kind soul she once loved was still there, so even that short time was enough for her to fall miserably in love with him again, just to have him disappear from her life like before.

Cecelia wouldn’t let herself believe that this was a second chance to put things right between them. They could make peace, and already had, really, but a relationship between them seemed impossible. Even if he weren’t returning to the French Riviera in a few weeks, they both knew she was in no position to start something promising with anyone. Not with Maverick’s threat hanging overhead.

She wouldn’t blame him for indulging while he was here and not getting attached. Hell, if he broke her heart this time, it would be some sort of karmic retribution somehow. She deserved it.

Maybe she was just a masochist, but she couldn’t walk away from him. Not twice in a lifetime.

“I’ve got to sample dessert,” Deacon said, oblivious to her train of thought. “I might explode or spend this afternoon napping in my office, but I told Shane that I would try everything.” He eyed the selection of desserts on the table with dismay.

“I think you’ve still got room,” she said. She reached out and picked up a berry tartlet, bringing it up to his lips. “Take a bite.”

He didn’t resist. Deacon bit down into the sweet treat, taking half of it into his mouth. Chewing, he watched as she brought the rest of it up to her mouth and finished it off with a satisfied sound.

“Yummy,” she said and picked up another treat. This one was a small brownie with whipped cream and a dusting of what looked like chili powder. That would be interesting.

As they made their way through the rest of the desserts, Cecelia could feel them building toward something more. If it wasn’t the middle of the afternoon, she was certain he would take her home and make love to her. As it was, she wouldn’t be surprised if he escorted her into his office and locked the door. The entire meal had been the tastiest foreplay she’d ever had. It made her want to spend the weekend in bed with him, and she would if it wasn’t for that pesky engagement party she had to go to tomorrow night.

It occurred to her that there might be one way to get through the evening after all. “Deacon, can I ask you for a favor?”

He leaned in, causing the most delicious tingles as he smoothed his palm down her arm. “Anything.”

“Would you go with me to Wes and Isabelle’s engagement party at the club?” She had no doubt that the gossip would be flying about her breakup with Chip, and it would be so much easier if she had Deacon there with her to soften the blow.

Deacon narrowed his gaze at her. “The club? The Texas Cattleman’s Club? Are you serious?”

Cecelia frowned. “Of course I’m serious. Why wouldn’t I be serious? I’m a member. Everyone in town practically is a member now. What’s the big deal?”

With a sigh, Deacon sat back against the leather of the booth. “The big deal is that I’m not a member. They would never let me be a member. I don’t exactly relish hanging out someplace where I’m not wanted.”

Sometimes Cecelia forgot how hard it was for Deacon to live in Royal back when they were kids. He had never fit in with the others driving the BMWs they got for their sweet sixteenth and going home to their mansions at night. She never really thought about it, because none of it ever mattered to her. He had simply been the most wonderful boy she’d ever known. The fact that he’d driven a beat-up pickup truck and lived in a small, unimpressive house on the edge of town hadn’t been important.

But it had been important to him both then and now, gauging by his reaction. Even though he was successful, even though he could buy and sell half the people in this town, he still had a chip on his shoulder.

“You’re not seventeen and broke anymore, Deacon. Stop worrying about all those other people and what they might or might not think. Actually, most of them are so self-centered that they won’t be nearly as concerned with your being at the club as they will be about a million other things.”

She leaned into him and took his hand. The touch of his skin against hers made her long for the night they’d spent together with his hands gliding over her naked body. Cecelia really did want him to go to the party with her, and not just as a buffer from the ire of the town. She wanted to go back to his place afterward and spend all night relishing the feel of him against her.

Cecelia looked in his eyes, hoping they reflected her intentions and thoughts. She stroked the back of his hand with her thumb in the slow, lazy circles guaranteed to drive him wild and get her exactly what she wanted. “Come with me. Please.”

Jaw tight, his gaze dropped to his hand. With a soft shake of his head, he sighed. “Okay, you win. When is this engagement party?”

“Tomorrow night. Seven o’clock. Will that work for you?”

Deacon nodded. “I suppose. Will I get some sort of special reward for being your escort for the evening?” he asked with a grin lighting his eyes.

“You absolutely will,” she promised. “Do you have anything in mind?”

“I do.” Deacon took her hand and scooped it up in his own. He pressed his fingertips into the palm of her hand and stroked gently but firmly, turning her own trick on her. It was easy to imagine those hands on her body, those fingers stroking the fires that burned deep inside her. “What are you doing after work today?” he asked.

Her gaze met his, a small smile curling her lips even as he continued to tease her with his fingertips. “Nothing much,” she said coyly. “What do you plan to do tonight?”

Deacon leaned into her, burying his fingers in the loose hair at the nape of her neck and bringing her lips a fraction of an inch from his own. She wanted to close the gap between them and lose herself in his kiss. It was all she wanted, all she could think of when they were this close. She could feel the warmth of his breath on her lips. Her tongue snaked across her bottom lip to wet it in anticipation of his kiss.

Instead he smiled and let his fingers trace along the line of her jaw. “Why, I plan to be doing you, Miss Morgan.”