The Sweetest Seduction, Breakaway Hearts (6 page)

“Oh, but I think you’ll enjoy this.” He dragged her over to the window looking out into the dining room and pointed to a couple sitting at a corner table.

Lia didn’t recognize the woman, but there was no mistaking Adam Kelly. They were sitting next to each other, their heads bent in deep conversation. “He brought a date here?”

“That’s some nerve,” Julie said from over her shoulder while she whisked a fresh batch of vinaigrette. “Why did you seat them, Dax?”

“Because we had a last minute cancellation.” He pushed them away from the door as a waiter approached. “Don’t you two see? This is Lia’s chance to wow him with her cooking
and
make him look like a total shit in front of his date when she learns he’s closing this place down. It’s brilliant!”

Or I can just walk out there and whack him in the back of the head with this frying pan
. The idea tempted her more than she cared to admit. She spun the pan around in her hand and weighed the consequences of her actions.

Unfortunately, Dax had the better plan. “Okay, fine, let him eat. In fact, I’m going to prepare a special treat for him and his date. Luis, take over on the pasta station.”

Dax dashed back into the dining room while Julie followed Lia over to a small workstation. “What do you have in mind?”

Lia held up two large prawns. “I have it on good authority that Mr. Kelly isn’t fond of shrimp. Maybe it’s time I changed his mind.”

****

“So what do you think of this place so far, Vanessa?” Adam asked as the waiter cleared the plates from their
prima
course.

She wiped the corners of her mouth with a napkin before replying in her posh British accent, “I would describe it as bold and inventive.”

“Tell me what you really think.”

All pretense dropped, and the food critic next him relaxed into the girl from Ipswich he’d befriended years ago at Oxford. “It’s bloody good, that’s what it is. I almost need a cigarette after that orgasmic risotto. Where did you find this place? It should be a must eat for anyone visiting Chicago.”

Adam shifted in his seat. If he could survive this conversation without admitting that he was in the process of shutting La Arietta down, he’d have to go out and by a lottery ticket. “I own this building, remember?”

“Well, it was a brilliant idea to open this place.” She fished around in her handbag for a tube of lipstick and a mirror. “Do anything you can to keep the owner because she’s going to be a star by the time I write this place up.”

He folded his hands together and cursed under his breath. “Actually, Amadeus Schlittler will be opening up a restaurant here soon.”

Vanessa froze, her lipstick hovering over her lips. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

Before he had a chance to answer, two waiters came with the meat course. Vanessa, being the foodie she was, had demanded they order five different entrees so they could sample them all. Adam made sure Lia’s Chicken Milano was one of them.

Vanessa put away her lipstick and placed her napkin back in her lap, but her glare was still firmly in place. “Adam?”

He stabbed the filet mignon with his fork and cut into it, his knife sliding through the tender meat like it was butter. “You should try the chicken.”

“Adam?” Her voice took on a feral growl, the one she reserved whenever someone got between her and her food. How she managed to keep such a trim figure amazed him.

“Can I pour you another glass of wine?”

She pried the bottle out of his hand. “What the fuck are you thinking?”

He laid his utensils on his plate and leaned back. The battle was lost. “He’s a bigger draw that the current owner. If I can get him here, then I can increase the rent on the other spaces in this building.”

“Amadeus Schlittler is a complete wanker who lost any culinary creativity decades ago. I wouldn’t be caught dead in one his restaurants, even if it was last place on Earth serving hot food.” She emptied the bottle into her glass and took a long drink. “You’re a fucking idiot if you think you’re better off closing this place down for him.”

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Vanessa just confirmed the doubt that had been eating away at him all week. “Then what do you suggest I do?”

“Tell Schlittler to piss off and marry this goddess.” She took a bite of the Chicken Milano and gave a moan of pure ecstasy that none of her lovers had probably ever extracted from her. “I’m serious.”

If she only knew how close she came to striking a nerve. He’d lost count how many times he’d pulled his phone out and stared at the number Lia had entered on Sunday. The problem was he didn’t know what he’d say to her if she answered his call. And none of it had anything to do with business. “I think it’s a little late for that. She hates me.”

“Now whatever gave you that idea?” a familiar voice said behind him. He turned around and found Lia standing there, holding a small plate in her hands.

His tongue stumbled in his mouth like a drunken frat boy. Thankfully, Vanessa came to his rescue. She extended her hand to Lia, her posh accent back in place. “You must be the genius behind every delectable dish we’ve been served this evening.”

“I am. Thank you.” Lia shook Vanessa’s hand, but remained cool and aloof. Her eyes slid to Adam as she added, “I’m very glad to hear you’ve been enjoying your meal.”

He didn’t miss the thinly veiled message behind her words. If she wanted him to know her cooking was top notch, her point had been made this weekend. The crowded dining room just confirmed her skill.

“And what do we have here?” Vanessa asked, pointing to the plate in Lia’s hands.

“It’s a new dish I’ve been working on. I thought I’d let you two try it first and tell me what you think.” She placed the plate with two small golden brown pinwheels and front of him and waited.

Vanessa wasted no time sampling it, praising it with another one of her sex kitten moans. “Oh my God, Adam, you have to try this.”

Lia crossed her arms and lifted her chin, daring him to take a bite.

He picked up his fork, his eyes never leaving her, and pressed it into the other pinwheel. The outside crunched, letting him know it had been fried, but the inside was soft and warm. He took a bite. The rich, gooey filling was a mixture of creamy ricotta, roasted garlic, and a hint of something sweet that he couldn’t name. Now he knew why Vanessa had rewarded it with one her trademarked moans. It was fabulous. He devoured the rest in three quick bites.

“Like it?” Lia asked with a smirk.

He coughed and wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Yes, it’s very good. But then you knew that.”

Her grin widened. “And now you know it, too. Good evening.”

She turned to leave, but Vanessa stopped her. “A moment, please. What do you call this treat?”

Lia stared directly at him and replied, “
Lasagne
fritti con gamberi e
aragosta.
” She returned to the kitchen before he had a chance to ask her to translate.

Vanessa dove into the next entree. “Abso-fucking-lutely brilliant.”

He took a gulp of wine to soothe the tickle in this throat and congratulated himself on getting through an awkward situation. “That went well.”

“Yes, if you leave out the part where she looked she wanted to skewer me.” She came back to the chicken and took another bite. “Why do I have the sneaking suspicion there’s more to you two than what you’re telling me?”

The back of his neck itched. “Because there is.”

“Out with it.” Vanessa chewed and waited, knife and fork still in hand.

“It’s a bit of a comedy of errors.”

“Let me guess—you shagged her and didn’t know she was one of your tenants.”

Now the itch had moved to between his shoulder blades. He rubbed his back against his chair. “Not exactly, but close.”

“Close what? Close in that you almost shagged her? Or close in that you didn’t know who she was?”

“Both.”

The knife and fork fell to Vanessa’s plate with a clang. “You’ve gotten yourself into a bloody mess, haven’t you?” She crossed her arms on the table. “Now, what are you going to do about it?”

He dug his fingers into his palms to keep from clawing at his thighs, they itched so much. Being under the scrutiny of one of his oldest friends while in a wool suit was anything but comfortable. “What can I do? I can’t mix business with pleasure.”

“Don’t be a complete nutter. You know as well as I do that you were never one for playing by the rules.”

“That was then, and this is now.” He rocked from side to side, soothing the burning across his lower back. “I doubt she’ll have anything to do with me unless I promise to let her keep the restaurant.”

“And that would be a bad thing how? Think about it, Adam. You’d still have a top notch chef working here, and you’d be shagging a girl who’s far more fit than you deserve.”

“And how would I know that she wasn’t just using me to get what she wanted?” The itching had become almost unbearable now. He raked his nails along his arm, praying it would end soon.

Vanessa drew her brows together. “You all right?”

“No, I feel like I have an army of fire ants dining on me.” Sweat beaded along his forehead. If it didn’t stop soon, he risked stripping off every item of clothing he had on just so he could get some relief. “The only time I’ve ever felt like this was the time I broke out in hives after eating shrimp.”

Her eyes widened and she sucked in a breath. “I didn’t know you were allergic to prawns.”

He paused as Vanessa dove back into her handbag. “What are you talking about?”

“
Gamberi
is Italian for prawns. The dish she made for us—it was fried lasagna with prawns and lobster.”

“Let me see your mirror.” She handed it to him, and he peered at his reflection in the dim light. His lips were already swelling, and raised splotches dotted his cheeks and neck. “That vicious—”

“Don’t get your knickers in a bunch. Even I didn’t know you were allergic to prawns, and I’ve known you for years. I doubt she gave it to you on purpose.” Vanessa handed him a small white pill. “Now take that before your throat swells up and you stop breathing.”

He swallowed the tablet and pulled several hundred-dollar bills out of his wallet—more than enough to cover the check and leave the waiter a good tip. “I need to grab that EpiPen in my glove compartment.”

“I couldn’t agree more. You’re getting all puffy.” She laid her napkin aside and gave a wistful sigh. “It’s a shame to leave all this lovely food behind.”

Adam stood and loosened his collar. “I’ll bring you back.”

“So I guess that means you won’t be closing this place down.” She grinned and bounded up from her chair, locking her arm through his. “That’s the best news I’ve heard all night.”

He’d agree to anything if it meant he’d stop itching. He just prayed Vanessa was right and Lia didn’t do this out of spite.

****

Lia flipped through the stack of receipts bound together by a paper clip and punched the numbers into her spreadsheet. Sales tonight had been higher than normal, but then, not every table ordered five entrees for every course like Adam and his date did.

She clenched her hand into a fist, hating every twinge of jealousy that filled her when she pictured the two of them together. It was obvious they’d been together for a long time, from the way they ate off each other’s plates to the way they left arm and arm with each other. The only consolation came with the knowledge that Adam was no different than Trey, and she was better off without a two-timing bastard like him.

At least she’d proven her point to him. He’d even praised her shrimp dish in front of his date. She clicked her spreadsheet and stared at the numbers. Maybe if she offered to pay double, maybe even triple her current rent, he’d let her stay. It would mean she’d have to stay at her mother’s a bit longer, but it would be worth it to keep La Arietta.

She threw the receipts on her desk and leaned back in her chair. No matter what solution she came up with, it still came back to Adam choosing her over Amadeus Schlittler. Thankfully, Dax’s suggestion that she sleep with him was out of the question, especially now that she knew he already had a girlfriend. She’d been tempted to tell the stunning British woman all about Adam’s behavior on the boat this weekend but had thought better of it. The last thing she needed was to cause a scene in her restaurant.

A creak came from the opposite end of the kitchen, and Lia’s breath caught. Everyone else had left a good half hour ago, and she’d locked the doors behind them. She reached under her desk for the Louisville Slugger she’d kept hidden just for situations like this and peered through the cracked-open door.

A shadow moved across the dark kitchen, running into the metal workstation where the salads were made. A low grunt filled the silence.

She tightened her grip on the bat. Her office not only was the only light in the whole place, but also where the safe was located. Whoever was out there would be drawn here.

The shadow came closer. It was a man, probably an inch or two over six feet, medium build. She jotted this down to memory so she could give some description to the police in case he got away. Of course, he’d have to survive her home-run swing first.