If I Told You (4 page)

Standing near the back, holding Flynn’s hand, we wait nervously for Rhys Camden to show up. I’m so excited to see him in real life. If his pictures are any indication, he’s going to be spectacular.

Ten minutes later, the door opens and Rhys walks in with a small entourage.

“Showtime,” Flynn whispers.

“You got this,” I whisper back.

Flynn nods then heads into the kitchen while I move to the side dining room that isn’t open. I watch as Melissa greets Rhys and then rushes to the back to get Flynn. He walks out, looking confident and proud, all that nervous energy tucked away, and I say a silent prayer for him. He needs this to go well. Better than well.

I watch the two men greet each other. Flynn is in his element now as they have a brief exchange. I love watching him work, his cocky stance commanding the room. He’s earned the right to be cocky though. His food is proof. That and his phenomenal face. Flynn leads Rhys and the three people with him to the chef’s table. Nearly everyone in the restaurant watches them. I’m positive most foodies in New York know exactly who Rhys Camden is.

Realizing that I’m right in his sight line, I grab my coat and start to walk up to the front to get out of the way, but then I hear Flynn call me. Slowly, I approach, barely able to walk. Rhys’s face is so… damn. His hair is thick and deep brown. It looks like it would be amazing to touch. As I get closer, his chocolate brown eyes watch me, and a perfect smile plays on his pouty lips. From a distance, he’s attractive, but up close, Rhys Camden is fucking hot.

“Mr. Camden wanted to meet you,” Flynn begins. “This is Brooklyn—”

“Brooklyn Ames?” Rhys says. “Right?”

“Yes, that’s right,” I confirm.

“I’ve heard of you. One of my associates goes to your studio, I believe. You own Ame High Fitness, correct?”

Rhys fucking Camden knows who I am. “Yes, that’s right. Pleased to meet you, Mr. Camden.”

“Please call me Rhys.” He stands and extends his hand to me. “And the pleasure is all mine.”

I’m aware of the many sets of eyes on me right now, from Flynn to Rhys’s dining companions. “Well, I should go.”

“Why don’t you join me?” Rhys asks.

“Oh, no. I was just, um, well, I…” Pausing, I look to Flynn for help. What the hell am I doing here?

“Brooklyn just stopped by to wish me luck tonight,” Flynn explains, oddly putting his arm around my waist. He never does that.

Rhys’s eyes follow the movement, then a smirk crosses his lips. “I see. How kind of you.”

I smile and nod, trying to move away from Flynn, who makes no move to release me.

“I’ve eaten here a lot,” I explain.

“I hear I’m in for a treat tonight,” Rhys says, turning to Flynn. “I’ve received numerous requests from my many followers that I should come here. You should feel proud.”

Flynn bows his head slightly. “It’s an honor.”

“Hopefully you still feel that way when the night is over.”

“I plan to do my best for you tonight.”

Rhys nods then looks back at me. “You sure you won’t reconsider?”

“Reconsider what?”

“Dining with me.”

“I don’t want to intrude on you and your friends.”

“These people are not my friends. They’re my staff.” He smiles and it’s incredible. “I could use a friend.”

“That’s nice of you, Rhys, but I was planning to, um, work on a new routine tonight.”

“Surely you need to eat.” His eyes roam up and down my body. “Even someone so fit needs food, no?”

I look up to Flynn, who finally releases me and offers a stiff smile. “You should stay.”

I’m officially out of excuses. I know this isn’t what Flynn wants, and frankly, even though Rhys is the human equivalent of a dessert buffet on a cheat day, I find it awkward to eat with him knowing he’s reviewing the restaurant.

“I insist, Brooklyn,” he adds, making it impossible to decline.

“Well, if you insist.” My eyes shift apologetically to Flynn who nods in defeat. “If you don’t mind, I’ll be right back.”

“Certainly,” Rhys says.

“I’ll be out soon with your first course,” Flynn offers. As we disappear in the kitchen, I grab Flynn’s arm.

“I’m sorry, Flynn. I don’t know why he wants me to stay.”

“You don’t?”

“No.”

“Because you’re beautiful, Brooklyn. I told you that dress was stunning. He wants you.”

“No, I’m sure that’s not it.”

“I saw how he looked at you. That’s exactly what he wants.”

“I didn’t know what to do but accept. I didn’t want to anger him or anything before he eats.”

“I’m glad you accepted. Hopefully, he’ll be so enthralled with you, he’ll fall in love with the food.” He smiles. “Sorry if I got a little possessive out there. It just sort of unnerved me the way he was eyeing you.”

“That’s okay.”

“Well, I bet if you want to go out with him, you’ll get your chance. He’s definitely into you.”

“We’ll see how the night goes. I’ll be on my best behavior, and I won’t say anything about you at all. Personally I mean. Just good stuff about the restaurant.”

“Thanks, sweetie. You better get back out there.”

“Okay.” I take a deep breath. “Here goes nothing.”

Walking back out, I approach the table. When Rhys sees me, he stands and pulls the chair out next to him. “Please sit here,” he says.

“Thank you.”

I sit, waiting for introductions that don’t come. One woman has an open laptop and types furiously on it. Another woman has a camera out and shoots various pictures, and the man does nothing but eat breadsticks, staring blankly at the menu.

“Thank you for joining me,” Rhys says. “I hope your boyfriend isn’t too upset.”

“Flynn isn’t my boyfriend. We’re just friends.”

“Does he know that?”

I tilt my head. “Of course he does.” I decide to challenge him. “And if you thought he was my boyfriend, why did you invite me to dinner?”

Rhys grins and his perfect, striking white smile makes him even more handsome. “Two reasons. First, I wouldn’t let a boyfriend stop me from getting what I want.” I raise an eyebrow as he continues. “And second, I only asked you to eat, not go to bed with me.” He bites a breadstick. “Yet.”

Okay. Wow. He’s hot, but he’s arrogant as fuck. Normally I would tell him to go fuck himself, but there’s too much at stake, so I just look down at my water glass.

“Tell me, Brooklyn,” he continues. “How is it that you’re single?”

“Who said I am?”

“Because you hang out with a man who isn’t your lover. Any man you were dating wouldn’t be okay with that.”

“Any man I decide to date better get okay with it. Flynn is an important part of my life.”

“Have you been lovers before?”

I pull my head back. “How is that any of your business?”

Rhys smiles. “Just trying to understand.”

I glance at the other people at our table who seem to be ignoring us. “We are not now nor have we ever been lovers.”

“I see. Do you have feelings for him or am I free to seduce you?”

I have to force my mouth closed. I just shake my head in response.

“What’s the matter? You’re not used to a man just telling you what he wants?”

“No, actually. I’m used to a little more finesse.”

“Finesse or games? Do you want me to flatter you and talk about the weather? Would that make you feel better when you give in?”

Leaning close, I smile, tracing my finger over his expensive suit lapel. “I appreciate your interest in me, Rhys, but I’m not a whore. Would it pain you to at least act like you’re interested in me as a person and not just a vagina?” I notice how the face of the woman with the laptop flinches.

Rhys smiles. “It wouldn’t pain me at all, Brooklyn. And to be clear, I am very interested in you as a person.” He leans closer. “It’s just that I’m also very, very interested in your vagina.”

I shake my head. “Well, you’re gonna have to work for it, and if you’re not interested in a little work, that’s fine by me. I was doing just fine without you.”

“I’m a very hard worker, gorgeous, as you’re going to find out.” He barely brushes his fingers over my cheek. “And you’ll never be the same now that you’ve met me.”

“Excuse me.” Our server’s voice interrupts this interaction and Rhys sits back in his seat as two plates are set in front of us. Our server, Steve, explains what this first dish is. I can’t hear him as my mind is replaying this interaction.

Glancing at the man beside me, I take a mental inventory of his features. Polished, sophisticated, sexy. His hair makes me want to run my fingers through it and mess it up. I bet he’s sexy as fuck in the morning. That’s when I realize he’s talking to me.

“I’m sorry, what?”

Rhys smiles. “I said I’d like you to take the first bite.”

“Oh.” My eyes catch Flynn’s, as he stands nearby. He has a tense expression on his face as his jaw twitches. “Sure.” Lifting my fork, I slide it into the ravioli, pleased to find it’s his famous lobster and white truffle creation. It’s my absolute favorite. Taking my bite, I barely chew as it melts on my tongue. “Perfect.”

“Describe it to me,” Rhys says. “In your words.”

“Uh, silky, vibrant, decadent. I love how each ingredient highlights the others, not competing or overpowering. You can taste the lobster, the truffle, the cream. The hint of pepper cuts through the richness of the dish. I think it’s perfection.”

Rhys takes his own bite, studying it before putting the fork in his mouth. He chews with his eyes closed as Flynn and I exchange glances. When he opens his eyes, he looks directly at me.

“Yes,” Rhys says, softly. “I have to agree with you.”

A moment later, Flynn appears. “I hope you’re enjoying your first course?”

Rhys looks up at Flynn. “Bravo, Chef. It’s magnificent.”

Flynn bows his head slightly. “Thank you. Your next dish will be out shortly.”

“I look forward to it.”

Flynn disappears in the kitchen. When I look back, Rhys is still watching me.

“Yes?”

“You’re very good at describing the dish.”

“I just say what I think. Always.”

“We have that in common then.”

I nod, then take a sip of water. I can’t believe I’m talking to Rhys Camden. Steve appears moments later carrying two plates of the entrée selection for tonight. I look down when mine is set in front of me and smile. It’s picture worthy. It’s that beautiful. I look up at Flynn, lingering in the open kitchen, and grin. He winks at me as Rhys studies the dish, lifting his plate, angling it different directions, then inhales the aroma.

Using his fork, Rhys pokes his fish, and as it flakes away, he smiles. “Perfect,” he murmurs. Then starts to describe it in detail and the woman with the laptop goes nuts transcribing his words. The woman with the camera takes more pictures and the man with the menu continues to stare blankly, but scrawls on a notepad. So odd.

Rhys takes a bite, chewing slowly, and describing his experience. As I eat my fish, I make a mental note of his thoughts so I can tell Flynn later. So far so good.

“How often do you eat here?” he asks.

“Weekly at least.”

“Lucky girl. So far I’m quite impressed.”

I smile. “I’m glad. Flynn works hard.”

“His food is a reflection of that. Is he cooking for me or is someone else back there doing it?”

“Oh, Flynn is definitely cooking for you. He still does a lot of the cooking.”

“Hmm, that’s good to know.”

“Is that normal or not?”

“At this stage it’s fairly normal. I like to see the chef still involved in his kitchen.”

“Flynn is very hands on.”

“Is he?”

I tilt my head, noticing his change in tone. “What does that mean?”

“How long have you been friends?”

“Years.”

“Interesting.”

“It’s not really. Men and women are capable of having platonic relationships. Maybe not in your world, but it’s normal.”

Rhys nods then takes a sip of his wine. “Did the chef do this pairing or does he have a Sommelier?”

I shake my head, realizing the change of subject. “He did it.”

“Excellent choice.” The woman with the computer types rapidly. “In my world, Brooklyn, men and women can have platonic relationships, that is, while they wait for the opportunity to change it.”

“Is that so?”

“I could never be just friends with you. My intentions are definitely not platonic.”

“Well, you’re not Flynn.”

“Indeed, I’m not.”

After we finish our main course, Flynn appears with dessert, and I’m near giddy with delight.

“Panna cotta,” Flynn says, “with salted caramel drizzle and fresh raspberries.”

Rhys eyes the dish. “Hmm. I fancy myself a panna cotta aficionado.”