More Than Meets the Ink (20 page)

She spent all evening greeting patrons, and between that, dodging Clint’s attitude and snide comments, and helping the waitresses, by eleven thirty she was physically and mentally wrung out. Even if she’d go to hell and back before admitting it, she was dying to see James coming through the front door. The good part of being in the kitchen was not having to face the looks full of pity from all those regular customers who’d known her and her family for decades. Almost a year had passed since the accident, and she still had to deal with their covert condolences on a regular basis. It was all so draining: the meaningful stares, the silences, the way they discreetly asked how she or her mom or Elle were doing. The way they tried to look cheery while talking to her yet not quite pulling it off. Out of respect and uneasiness, everyone avoided referring to Jonah or her dad. The way all of them tiptoed around that big pink elephant in the room, not wanting to acknowledge its presence, would have been funny if it weren’t so sad.

With James it was different. No big pink elephant to politely ignore. He asked up front, and Tate realized she liked talking about them; it helped her process all the grief inside her.

When she heard the door, she turned hopefully. It was too late for customers to show up; this had to be James.

But it was Aidan.

He looked impeccable in his expensive suit, with his black hair perfectly cut and his million-dollar lawyer smile. It was the first time she’d seen him after the breakup, and funnily enough, it didn’t hurt; her mind was too preoccupied with James.

“Hello, Tate.”

She smiled at him, moved to embrace him, then stopped herself. She didn’t harbor any bad feelings really, not anymore, but that didn’t make them friends. Real friends didn’t dump you while you were in a difficult situation, not to mention lovers.

“Hello, Aidan.”

“I see you’re still trying to keep this place afloat,” he said, throwing a look around. She followed his glance, glad tonight had been a busy night. Even at this late hour there were still a couple of tables occupied. She might still be deep in shit, bills, threatening e-mails, and worries, but that didn’t mean she wanted him to know. If she had anything left, it was pride.

“Yeah, well, I’m hanging in there. How are you?”

“I’m fine, very busy all the time. They offered a partnership. I accepted, of course, and now I’m in charge of several corporate accounts, very demanding clients—lots of responsibilities. Plus I was also asked to handle a couple of pro bono cases.”

She knew all about his success stories; after two years of being together, they had a bunch of common friends over whom they now had shared custody, and although she hadn’t seen much of them lately, for some annoying reason they insisted on telling her about Aidan and his marvelous accomplishments, like she’d been the one dumping him and should be sorry for it. Especially irritating were her former coworkers at her old office, where Aidan had been considered something of a superb catch. Lose her comfortable job and then him over a stinky little family restaurant? Slave over the place all evenings, weekends, and holidays? Please! She was out of her mind, they repeatedly said. But they seemed to forget she hadn’t lost her job, she’d quit, and Aidan had quit her.

“I’m glad for you,” she said, feeling awkward. He’d meant the world to her, once upon a time; now there was nothing left but an uneasy feeling. “Did you come for dinner?”

“No. I was in the neighborhood, just wanted to see how you were doing. I hoped you’d have the time to go for a drink with me.”

“I…um…I’m a little busy,” she said.

He disdainfully scanned his surroundings. “You’re the boss of this place. Surely they can manage without you for a while.”

His response annoyed her. How typical of him. “Actually no, they can’t.” Despite the decrease in customers, without her dad, Jonah, her mom, and Elle pitching in, they were badly understaffed. Not that Aidan could ever understand that.

At her hard tone, he softened and reached out for her. “For old time’s sake? I just want to talk a little. Check up on you, see how you’re doing. Some of our friends are worried about you.”

His hand on her arm felt so uncomfortable she moved back to break the contact. “I really don’t think this is the time…”

At that very moment, James strode into the restaurant and headed for her, a takeout bag dangling from his left hand. A smile broke across her face immediately. It was amazing how despite her attempts to the contrary, James’s mere presence made her feel safe and comforted.

“Hi, princess,” he greeted, cupped her face, and kissed her. Thoroughly. Then he turned to the man standing near her, his intense gaze inspecting him. “Are you going to introduce us?”

It took a while for his words to seep in. “Ah, sure, yeah. James, this is Aidan. Aidan, James.”

Aidan looked uncomfortable and surprised. “Nice to meet you,” he mumbled, offering a well-mannered smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

That was just as well, because James was not smiling. He just answered with a nod, one of his hands curled around Tate’s waist.

That gesture didn’t escape Aidan, who actually looked…pissed? “I see. Well, hmm, I’d better be going. I can see you’re busy. Take care.”

“Yeah, you too, Aidan.”

James didn’t say a word, just followed Aidan’s retreat with his gaze. When he disappeared from view, he turned to Tate.

“Are you ready, baby?” His casual tone was much at odds with the intensity radiating from his hazel eyes—he wasn’t pleased about Aidan, but he was fighting not to let it show. “I brought Thai food, figured by now you’d be a bit tired of Italian.”

She loved Thai food. She’d mentioned it in passing while they were in Florida, and he’d remembered. So sweet—for a pushy domineering guy trying to run her over, that is. Still, food won the battle. “Give me half an hour.”

After forty minutes, they were climbing the stairs to her apartment.

“You know, we’d be more comfortable at my place. We could lay down naked in the bed and eat there.”

She shrugged unapologetically. “I like my bed.”

A snort, harsh in disbelief, escaped his lips. “Please, honey, your bed is not a bed; it is an instrument of torture.”

Once in the apartment, they left the food on the counter, and as she began opening the boxes, he leaned on her from behind and bracketed her body with his arms, palms splayed on the counter.

“So that was Aidan,” he said, nuzzling her hair.

She was silent for a second. “Yeah, that was Aidan.”

“I see. Is there anything you want to tell me?”

She snorted, turned around, and poked at his chest with her finger. He didn’t budge an inch. “Do not think for a second I don’t know you’re diverting the matter at hand. Aidan is not important.”

“I sure hope he isn’t,” he said.

She rolled her eyes, more than exasperated with his hard tone. “Of course not, what kind of slut do you think I am, uh? You’re the one I’m sleeping with. Although I may reconsider that if you don’t stop bullying me.”

A proud male smile spread on his lips, and he fell upon her mouth. It was a hard, possessive kiss that all but took her breath away. If she didn’t regain her bearings soon, she’d be outmaneuvered—by the dick poking at her belly and by the fragrant smell of spicy coconut chicken coming from the bag.

“I’m glad you don’t consider him important,” he said into her lips. “Nevertheless, next time I see his hands on you, I’ll chop them off.”

“You won’t do any such thing. It was nothing, and I can take care of myself.” She hadn’t liked the feel of his touch either, no matter how light, but she wouldn’t let him distract her. “Forget Aidan; he means nothing to me. Let’s go back to the matter at hand.”

He smiled. “Which is?”

“You, Zack, and Sean intimidating the hell out of my suppliers in my kitchen.”

“Ex-suppliers,” he corrected her with a cocky smirk. “And intimidation? Nuh, that’s called public relations, princess.”

“It’s called meddling, mister,” she reprimanded him. “Did you know Tim showed up tonight for work, no sign of being sick? Did you have anything to do with that too?”

“Me? No. What makes you think I did?”

She so didn’t believe him. She crossed her arms in anger, her chin stubbornly tilted up. “I won’t be handled, James. And believe it or not, I don’t need rescuing.”

“I’m sure a badass chick like you doesn’t need rescuing, but I do enjoy being the heroic type. Let me indulge, babe.” He caressed her cheek, her swollen lips, the side of her neck. How could anyone stay mad at him?

“You, mister, are really lucky this badass chick loves Thai food. Otherwise she’d have to hurt you.”

James smirked. “Come sit. Let me feed you. Afterward I’ll take you to bed and make love to you until you fall sleep from exhaustion. How does that sound?”

It sounded perfect.

Chapter Nine

James had been in charge of supervising the security for one of their clients’ events until two o’clock in the morning, and now, despite being dead on his feet and badly in need of sleep, he was on his way to Tate’s. Alden was literally around the corner, but he wasn’t considering it.

It had been almost three weeks since that first time Tate had let him in her apartment, and despite the harshness of the damn bed, he hadn’t slept in his own since then. Except for yesterday, when he’d also worked until the wee hours and, against his better judgment, had decided to stay at his place. It’d been a restless night, his huge, comfy bed never seeming so empty before, so today he wasn’t repeating the experience, never mind his bone-deep tiredness and that Lilliputian bed of hers that was prematurely destroying his back. Her place was small and crowded, full of boxes and mismatched furniture, but weirdly enough it had started to feel like home to him. Although probably by now a cardboard box with Tate in it would feel like home to him.

She was getting to him in a way no woman ever had before. And the way she fought him every step of the way was adorable. Like the fight about the keys. She’d given him the keys today, grudgingly, repeated insistently they were not
his
keys, that they were on loan just because he was going to come in late and she wasn’t going to be awake. She assured him she was going to take them back the next day and that was it—no getting cozy with them. He’d laughed, taken the keys, and kissed her silly. Tate could say whatever she wanted; those spare keys had his name on them. He’d get her to give them freely to him, if not today, then someday soon, and not on a short loan.

He entered her apartment and quietly closed the door, getting rid of his shoes and his jacket and heading toward her. The place was a mess, like always, and the fact that it didn’t bother him in the least spoke volumes of how deep he was in.

She was sleeping, curled in what looked like a big, brand-new bed. Wow, that was a surprise; she hadn’t mentioned it to him. His chest swelled; she’d taken the trouble to buy a new bed so that he’d be more comfortable, even if she’d insisted repeatedly that a big bed was a waste of space in that tiny apartment. The underlying assumption being, of course, that he wasn’t going to be around long enough for the buying of the bed to be worthwhile.

After undressing, he slid in and reached for her, pulling her on top of him. He’d gotten used to having her blanketing him, to which she’d agreed mainly because the bed hadn’t allowed for them to sleep side by side, but James was now spoiled rotten and needed full-body contact, from the tip of his foot to his head. He needed to feel her breath on his chest, the light heartbeats against him, her light weight on him. He absolutely loved feeling her hot core against his thigh, loved the way she wrapped her legs over him.

She looked so tired; she didn’t even wake up when he scooped her up and positioned her on top of him. She mumbled something he didn’t understand, but he kissed the top of her head and wrapped himself around her, effectively cutting short all her rumblings. In spite of his body’s tiredness, he went instantly hard, like always when he touched her. He kept waiting for this insane attraction to wear off, at least to manageable proportions, but it just got stronger and stronger; the more he had her, the more he wanted her and the more out of control he felt. Sighing, he tried to ignore his body’s reaction; she was tired, needed her sleep, especially now that the restaurant was picking up.

Tate was looking much more relaxed and in charge, and damn if it wasn’t showing. He liked to believe he was partly responsible for that change, but he wasn’t sure, she wasn’t forthcoming about that. Be that as it may, the restaurant’s atmosphere had undoubtedly improved a lot. The chef was happy, and Tim was around every day, but that wasn’t the main reason for the general improvement in Rosita’s—Tate was. She’d gained confidence in herself and her abilities, making diners feel at ease and welcome. A superb hostess, she was able to handle just about anything and anyone. He knew firsthand because he’d observed her transformation from a beautiful yet insecure young woman, overworked and overstressed, into this take-charge knockout that oozed charm and security. She was even standing up to Clint, who nowadays was more than pissed that she was taking over the dining area. And everyone was noticing the change. With that loose, thick braid swinging around her sexy self, that wicked smile and those smoky eyes, she was his private wet dream. Much to his distaste, other men seemed to do their share of fantasizing too, so these days, possessiveness was riding his ass hard.

He had a vivid recollection of one night in particular, just some days ago, when he’d been about to beat a couple of pricks for being too friendly with Tate. They hadn’t been overtly rude or anything like that, but he saw their eyes, the lust in them. Those assholes talked to her while she was taking their order and bringing their wine, joked and flirted with her, admired her ass every time she turned around, even whistling in admiration.

Tate had handled herself perfectly. She really knew how to deal with customers, how to draw the line without them getting offended. Apparently James wasn’t that capable or mature—or evolved, for that matter. As their flirting intensified and one guy had moved to grab her wrist, he had jumped from his chair and darted toward them.