Her New Boss: A Rouge Erotic Romance (10 page)

‘But –’ Zoe moved to look past the heat lamps, through the pick-up window. The restaurant was empty.

‘Regulars will be here soon and don’t make them wait. If your nonsense starts cutting into my tips, you’ll be sorrier than a dirty dog covered in fleas.’ Sheryl walked out to the pie case, unpacking and pre-cutting the pies she’d brought from home. The woman didn’t talk to her again as she went about her duties.

Frowning, Zoe turned on the griddle and an oven. When Sheryl glanced at her, she forced a smile she didn’t feel. Under her breath, so the waitress couldn’t hear, she said, ‘You’ll be the sorry one when I don’t make your stupid meatloaf special tomorrow.’

*

Zoe’s muscles ached as she dumped the almost full contents of the kettle of gazpacho into the trash – minus the one bowl she had eaten for lunch when she had a two-minute break in orders and a second bowl a local man had insisted was salsa. It nearly killed her to watch him dip tortilla chips into her soup. Not one person ordered the trout and she heard Sheryl making comments like, ‘You won’t want that soup, Harry, trust me. Have I ever steered you wrong?’ and ‘Yeah, hazelnut like the coffee. My mama always said to never trust a skinny cook. And have you seen that one?’ The insult stung as she’d always been self-conscious about her slight weight. The customers just let Sheryl get away with her attitude, listening to her like she was some kind of waitressing queen. When she was busy, they actually got up from their tables and refilled their own coffee, going into the wait station so as to not bother her as she took orders.

The only other employee who came in was a younger kid named Travis who bussed tables and washed dishes. He smiled shyly at Zoe and stared when he thought she wasn’t watching him. Sheryl left with the last customer and Travis stayed long enough to help Zoe clean up some of her area. Wanting to be alone, she urged him to go home as she finished up. When she was finally alone, she took off her jacket to work in her black tank top with built-in bra.

‘Is that my profits you just dumped into the trashcan?’

‘Ah!’ Zoe screamed, spinning around to glare at Jackson. ‘Do you have to keep doing that?’

Jackson laughed. He looked decadently comfortable in his untucked button-down shirt with French-style cuffs. Subtle purple, blue and white stripes lined the material. A white T-shirt showed from beneath the spread collar. Khaki
twill-front
flat trousers hung loose around his legs, yet moulded seductively to him when he moved. ‘You must have been deep in thought. I slammed the back door.’

Her heart pounding from being startled, she went back to cleaning the kettle out in the deep steel sink. ‘Have you come to check up on me?’

‘Yes.’

The simple, blunt honesty of the admission surprised her. ‘Afraid I’d give the customers food poisoning?’

‘According to Sheryl, you tried.’ Jackson chuckled.

Zoe’s eyes rounded in shock and she fought the sudden urge to weep. She’d been so nervous, worked so hard and the exhaustion was starting to get to her. ‘She called you about me?’

‘Several times, in fact.’ Jackson crossed over to the trashcan and looked at the red soup coating the contents. ‘Is that the deadly vegetable soup?’

‘It’s gazpacho,’ she grumbled, scrubbing the kettle harder.

‘You know, I pay Travis to do that.’

‘I sent him home.’ She scrubbed harder, even though there wasn’t anything left to wash off. ‘I can’t believe you know the bus boy’s name.’

‘I went to high school with Travis’s aunt. She called me to get him the job.’ Jackson strode to the large walk-in refrigerator and opened it. He glanced inside before doing the same with the walk-in freezer. ‘Gazpacho is an interesting choice for this clientele. Gazpacho manchego might have been a less bold move if you were going to try something different.’

‘Why? Because it’s hot?’ Zoe didn’t let her hurt show. The way he said ‘interesting choice’ stung worse than a slap across the face.

‘Perhaps you should run the rest of the week’s menu by me,’ Jackson said, instead of answering.

‘I thought I had free rein to cook what I wanted for the specials.’ She gave up on the pretence of cleaning the kettle and rinsed it out. If he was going to take away that one little freedom, this job wouldn’t be tolerable.

‘Do you think you can do better than today? I don’t like to see food wasted. Daily specials and soups usually account for most of the sales.’ Jackson placed his hands on his hips.

‘If you can get your waitress to stop sabotaging me,’ Zoe answered. ‘She told everyone my hazelnut sauce didn’t belong on trout. I found the old cook’s orders. I know he had a lot of seafood and fish specials by what he ordered. What I planned was not a far stretch of the imagination. Besides, it’s only been one day. I’m only using the ingredients already stocked in this kitchen. The hazelnut oil looked a little dusty, but it’s still good.’

‘You must have really said something to set her off. It wouldn’t hurt you to remember that folks around here are a little more sensitive than you New Yorkers.’

‘More sensitive?’ Zoe snorted. Sheryl sensitive? Sarcastically, she drawled, ‘Please.’

‘You think the trout was a good call, then prove it. Make it for me.’ He tilted his head to the side, watching her every move.

Zoe felt all the bravado about her culinary skills slowly drain out of her. ‘Right now?’

He nodded.

‘We’re closed.’ She picked up a wet washcloth.

‘I’m hungry.’ The challenge in his gaze was unmistakable.

‘All right.’ Zoe tossed the rag back down. This was the
opportunity
she wanted and if she could do anything, she could cook. Going into the walk-in fridge, she grabbed a zucchini, one of the trout fillets she’d cut earlier and an array of vegetables.

When she came back out, Jackson was leaning against the counter near the range. ‘Why do you want to be a chef?’

Zoe smiled, setting the ingredients down before grabbing a knife. ‘All the best moments in life seem to happen over food. Men propose, families get together, old friends meet. It’s nice to have a small part of that. I love the look on a person’s face when they eat something new, something surprising. And I always had a knack for creating new dishes or embellishing on old ones.’ Lifting the knife, she showed it to Jackson. ‘The restaurant really could use a better set. These are horrible.’

He grinned, but didn’t comment.

‘What about you? Why did you become a millionaire?’ She chuckled.

‘Who says I’m a millionaire?’ He reached over, grabbing a piece of raw carrot from the maple-topped worktable.

‘About every restaurateur and industry magazine out there.’ She cut an extra carrot and slid the pieces over toward him with the side of her blade. ‘Seriously, though. Did you always want to be in the restaurant business?’

‘No, I thought I’d be a horse rancher or work in the stables. When I was younger, I had no real ambition.’ He scooped the carrot pieces into his hand, cupping them in his palm. ‘I found out that one of the old ranchers was going to sell his property. I convinced him to let me work the stables for a share of whatever business we created. He gave me one year. I borrowed money from my family to buy a stud horse. The business took off with his expertise, my dumb luck and a very high-producing horse.’

‘Then how did you make the leap from rancher to restaurant genius?’

‘Are you trying to kiss up?’ His playful expression lightened his words.

‘Just answer the question, Mr Levy.’ Zoe felt giddy. Cooking always relaxed her and when she had something to do with her hands she became less fidgety and nervous. As he spoke, she mindlessly worked – simmering the fish in a pan and blending the hazelnuts and chives with lemon juice and hazelnut oil.

‘Six months into it, the rancher’s son came home from the military. He bought me out to work with his father and I bought into the neighboring ranch. It did well and seven months later, I sold my share to the original owners. I took that money and bought this diner. Everything I touched just seemed to work. With the money I made here, I invested into a restaurant in Columbia. The owner of that bought me out and then some businessmen paid me to design them a restaurant. I did, and it’s still in business. From there, I got another job, then another, and it just kept building. Not a single one failed.’

‘Must be nice.’ Zoe inhaled, moaning slightly at the wonderful smell coming from the blender. She motioned for Jackson to do the same.

He came close and she trembled at his nearness. Instead of smelling, he dipped his finger into the sauce and licked it slowly. She watched his mouth, transfixed by the way his cheeks moved as he sucked. ‘Mmm, delicious.’

All thoughts evaporated from her mind as she looked at him. The memory of what had happened in the forest haunted her flesh and seeing him, smelling him, only made the remembrance all the more potent. ‘Thank you.’

‘So tell me about the specials you have planned for this
week
.’ He leant closer, his lids dropping lazily over his eyes.

‘Ah, for the soups, I thought I’d do a vichyssoise.’ She grinned.

‘Another one served cold?’ Jackson chuckled, a deep, sexy sound that reverberated along her flesh. His head tipped to the side.

‘A cold cucumber, chilled beet, chilled creamed broccoli.’ She didn’t pull away.

Jackson moved so his lips were a hairs-breadth away from hers. The faint trace of liquor wafted on his breath. ‘You’re begging for trouble, aren’t you?’

‘No, trouble is when I don’t make meatloaf my special tomorrow.’

Jackson pulled away. ‘I wouldn’t joke about the meatloaf.’

‘Crap, the fish.’ Zoe moved to take the fish off the heat, but Jackson stopped her, tugging her hard against him. His lips crushed against hers as he poured all his passion and lust into the kiss. He maneuvred her against the worktable. Jackson cupped her breasts, then ran his hands over her sides and chest and along her waist to pull up her tank top. He reached her naked lower back and she gasped when he skimmed the tender scratches left from the tree bark against her flesh.

Jackson drew his mouth from hers, his eyes questioning as he nudged her hip to spin her around. Her palms fell on the table, pressed flat as she leant forward. The cool juice from some of the vegetables wet her hands and she slid one to the side to push the sharp knife lying on the table further away. His tender fingers traced her scratches as he examined her. Warm lips brushed her side and she inhaled deeply.

‘I’m sorry about this.’ His words were so soft she barely heard them. He kissed her hip, moaning as his tongue glanced over her skin.

Self-conscious, she tried to turn. ‘I should shower. I’ve been working all day.’

Jackson stood and pressed his hips against her ass. The full length of his cock nudged between her cheeks, working in tiny thrusts as he rubbed against her. ‘Why? You’re just going to get sweaty again.’

Jackson’s hips bumped her hard and he held her shoulder, the action ensuring she didn’t stand up straight. He continued to rock against her, the firm outline of his erection digging at her through the material of his pants and her uniform.

‘You’re tense.’ He groaned, urgently tugging at her elastic waistband, taking both her white silk panties and pants down at the same time. ‘Relax.’

Zoe tried, but couldn’t. She worried about what he must think, worried that someone might walk in on them, worried that having sex with the one man who could make or break her career was a bad move, worried that if she didn’t he would punish her, worried that he would know just how badly she wanted to fuck him, how hot her pussy was, how she fantasized about screwing him all over this very kitchen. The sordid thought had just seemed to pop into her mind all day. When she walked into the large fridge, she’d imagine him sneaking in to warm her from the chilled air. When she cut vegetables, she’d imagine him coming behind her and fucking her just as he was now. Dripping ranch dressing on her finger made her think of sucking him off, of drizzling him in some flavorful sauce just so she could lick him clean.

The sound of a zipper coming undone made her shiver.
Naked
, hot flesh replaced the material as he massaged his naked dick into the cleft of her ass. He didn’t move to enter, only working his hips in a slow, tortured rhythm. The fish continued to simmer on the stove, very close to being overcooked, but she didn’t care. His voice hoarse, he said, ‘You’re so tense. Talk to me about food. I want to hear your voice.’

Zoe thought the request strange, but obliged. ‘Wednesday I thought I’d make cannelloni al forno.’

‘Oh, yeah?’ He reached around her hip and a thick, warm finger slipped along her wet slit. ‘What else?’

‘Maybe a tagliatelle with Bolognese sauce or spaghetti with olives and capers.’

‘That’s it, keep talking, it relaxes you for me,’ he urged, drawing the tip of his cock down. He pressed her shoulder so she lay almost flat and nudged her legs apart. She heard a wrapper being ripped open and glanced back to see him spit a condom wrapper to the side. With one hand he brought it to his cock. She couldn’t see, but could tell by his actions that he was quickly unrolling it onto his erection. ‘Come on, be my naughty little chef. What are you going to make for me?’

‘Oh, um,’ Zoe gasped, her hands working against the worktable. ‘Lima bean and, ah, pesto, um, cous cous.’ It became hard to think. The head of his cock rubbed along her slit, parting the folds. ‘Vermicelli with lemon.’

Jackson thrust, prying her open. ‘Ah, I want to fuck you. I want to ride you so hard, stuff you full of my cock. One look at you and I can’t seem to control myself. I got to be inside you and when I can’t, I masturbate to the thought of you. I’ve come so many times today already and it still isn’t enough.’ He pushed deeper, as if forcing himself to go slow, to torment himself by denying his needs. ‘My balls
ache
and my dick is always hard. And then you start talking about cooking and you get that little excited light in your eyes. It drives me insane, it’s so fucking sexy and I can’t help hoping you’ll get that same light when you kiss me and let me fuck you.’