Hot in Here (10 page)

picked up the phone. Sarah was laughing on the other end of the line.

“Oh, my God, you are in so deep, Jen. I can’t believe you.”

“Okay, if all you’re going to do is laugh at me, then I’m hanging up. I’ve already had a shit day, and

we’re only two hours into it.”

Sarah sobered. “Sorry, sis. I just couldn’t help it. This is so unlike you. I mean, you’re lying to Bryce.”

“I’m engineering a reprieve, that’s all. It’s not lying. Iam on the phone, with you.”

“Jenna—”

“I just need some time, okay,” she snapped, pressing her eyes shut. Where the hell was her Advil? Shit,

by the time five o’clock rolled around, she was going to go through half the bottle. She could tell. It was

going to be one ofthose days.

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“Why are you so scared, Jenna?” Sarah asked.

“Why do you think, Sarah? Because I screwed up, that’s why. I mean, I slept with Bryce, for crying out

loud. The first time, on the couch, I suppose we could write off as a moment of madness, but the second

time? Sarah, we knew what we were doing. And I just can’t . . . I can’t figure out what to do.”

“Try letting him into your office for starters,” Sarah said sarcastically. “He’s there, isn’t he? It’s not like

he’s blowing you off.”

“Really? And how do you know that? I’m sure Bryce has no problem telling women right to their faces

not to get any ideas about their future just because they’ve slept together. The man has balls of steel.”

“What if he’s not blowing you off?”

“I’m sure he is, but even if he’s not, even if he wants to continue this . . . this sex thing, it won’t last,

Sarah. And man, that’s got me panicking, you know? I’m scared, because my heart’s engaged. I don’t

want to lose him. I’d rather have him as a friend than nothing at all. Sex with him is only going to pull me

in deeper, and when he cuts bait and runs, I’m going to be left totally annihilated.”

Sarah sighed. “I have a feeling that Bryce cares for you, and as more than just friends. After last night,

I’m sure he’s put the puzzle together and realized what everyone has known for years: that the two of

you belong together.”

“Yeah, right.Everyone knows that.”

“Of course everyone knows that,” Sarah said indignantly. “Even that stupid older brother of his realizes

the two of you were made for each other.”

“Not Trey?” No one but her sisters knew of her love for Bryce.

“Oh yes, even Mr. Hoity-Toity High-Fashion Photographer who thinks his shit doesn’t stink knows that

the only woman who is right for his brother is you.”

The door clicked open and Jenna looked up to see Rachel sliding through the small opening. She was

holding two plates.

“Look, I really do have to run, Sarah. I’ll call you tonight.”

“Don’t give up,” Sarah whispered into the phone. “Just tell him what’s in your heart.

Jenna hung up the phone and motioned to the vacant chair in front of her desk.

“Thanks,” Rachel said with a smile before handing her a plate. “Now, are you really going to blow off a

guy who makes you breakfastand delivers it to you at work?”

Jenna felt her heart twist in her chest as she looked down at the steaming circles. “Cookie-dough

pancakes with chocolate chips,” Rachel said around a mouthful. “It’ll put ten pounds on our hips, but oh

my God . . . it’s heaven.”

“Bryce is a great chef.”

“Tell me about it. I eat at his restaurant at least once a week. Mostly for his food, but the occasional

glimpse of that tight ass does wonders, too.”

Rachel swirled her fork in a puddle of syrup, and Jenna felt venomous that any woman could eat

something like that without gaining any weight. Jenna watched Rachel shove another pile of syrup-laden

pancakes into her mouth. “Man, that body is hot. The guy should be in an ad for Levi’s.”

Jenna smiled. Oh, yeah, Bryce had a fabulous butt, in and out of jeans. There was no denying that

nothing was sexier than Bryce in a pair of faded jeans and a tight-fitting T-shirt.

“So, what’s the deal, boss?” Rachel asked. “It’s cool if you don’t want to talk about it. Just thought I’d

offer a little girlie advice. You seem . . . on edge.” Her dark eyes flashed up through a fringe of long

lashes—mostly fake but long nevertheless.

Jenna studied Rachel, from the expensive Jimmy Choo heels to the cashmere skirt and silk blouse.

Rachel was the epitome of style and sex appeal. She wasSex and the City while Jenna felt like Daisy

Duke without the hot bod, just the backwater manners of a woman who had almost zero experience with

men.

“Look, if you want my opinion,” Rachel said as she licked her fork clean, “you’re in a great position. Mr.

Sexy Chef is hot for you. You should have seen his face when he realized that you were not coming out

of the office. He couldn’t believe you weren’t skipping your way over to him. A guy like that thinks he

can snap his fingers and have anyone with breasts salivating over him.”

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“Yeah, but the truth is, Bryce pretty muchcan have whoever he wants.”

“Really? He couldn’t have you this morning, could he? And you should have seen his face, honey. Oh my

God, if looks could kill, your office door would have exploded and Sexy Chef might just have choked

you.”

“Bryce wouldn’t do that.”

“You’re missing the point, honey.”

“What’s the point, Rachel?”

“The point is, keep him off balance and you’ll have him eating out of our hand. Make him work for you.

Play the femme fatale and he’ll become obsessed.”

“He has had it very easy with women,” Jenna said out loud before she thought better of it.

“Exactly. Turn the tables on him. Be the playgirl to his playboy and then you’ll see how determined he is.

He’ll never let you go. The object denied becomes so much more desired.”

Jenna’s eyes lit up. “That’s exactly right, Rachel. I’ll be as untouchable as he was all these years.”

“But don’t forgo the sex,” Rachel said with a wave of her hand. “No use suffering unnecessarily. Take

the sex but leave out the emotional stuff. Think like a playboy, not a woman looking for a wedding band,

and you’ll have him trailing after you like a puppy.”

Jenna sat back in her chair and studied Rachel. “And this is going to work? You’re sure? Because, in

truth, I am looking for the wedding band.”

“It’ll work. I was looking for a five-million-dollar account last week, and I landed it, didn’t I?” Rachel

said with a smile that was all vixen. “Money, marriage, it’s all the same thing. Good luck, honey.

Remember, your goal is in sight. You’re just taking a tiny detour before you get to it.”

The door closed behind Rachel. Jenna sat staring at it for a long time before she smiled. A perfect plan.

Act all blasé about sex. Pretend that she was in it for pleasure, that she really didn’t mind if they were an

item. Casual sex. That was what she needed to play up. Nothing to make Bryce nervous. No “c”

word—at least not yet. Once he was in love with her, then they could talk commitment.

And if that never happens?the doubting voice in her head asked. Well, she’d deal with that when or if it

happened. No sense worrying about it now. She couldn’t allow those little fears about Bryce and their

future to settle in. She’d find out if he was the settling-down type at the end of the road. Besides, she

hadn’t yet worked her magic on him.

Smiling to herself, Jenna picked up her plate of pancakes and dove in. Oh, they were good. The only

way they’d taste better was if she was in bed, sharing them with Bryce.

One day they would, she told herself. One day soon she’d be licking syrup from every part of his body,

especially, she thought with a smile, that big gorgeous cock of his.

“Is there something wrong, Mr. Ryder?”

Bryce flipped his cell shut. No fucking message. “Ah, no. Just expecting a call, that’s all.”

Mr. Greenwood, CEO and chief lending officer of Greenwood Financial, arched one thick graying brow.

“Your portfolio is in excellent shape, Mr. Ryder. Impressive that you’ve paid off that loan and managed

to buy your restaurant outright while still tucking away a sizable sum.”

“Well, I still live in an old condo in a cheaper part of the city, and I keep my expenses down.”

“I can see that,” Mr. Greenwood said with a haughty sneer.

OK, so the jeans were not one of his better ideas, but shit, he’d nearly been late for this very important

meeting. If only Jenna would have come out of her office, he wouldn’t have wasted nearly an hour. As it

was, he hadn’t even gotten to his restaurant. Hell, he’d only arrived at Greenwood with three minutes to

spare. Finding a parking spot downtown at midmorning was bad enough, but riding the elevator up to the

twenty-fourth floor when it stopped at every damn floor was worse. He’d been out of breath when Mr.

Greenwood’s secretary had seated him in the office.

But what should his clothes matter? He had financial security and a prospering four-star restaurant. His

portfolio and skills in the kitchen should speak for him, not his clothes.

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“Mr. Ryder,” Greenwood began as he sat back in his chair while drumming an expensive fountain pen on

a mouse pad, “I will be honest with you. Based on your finances, you should have no trouble securing

this loan. Indeed, my partners and I were rather pleased when you approached us to help back you in

your latest endeavor. However, the talk, the gossip and the general black cloud looming over you are

really rather worrisome. It is not only your skills and financial security we must take into account, but also

your reputation. Without a good reputation, a chef has nothing. And your reputation, Mr. Ryder, has

been sullied to the point of damage.”

Bryce’s hands curled into fists.Yeah, tell me about it.

“I’m fixing that, Mr. Greenwood,” he said, instead. “I’ve hired Jenna McCabe from Global Marketing to

help me with the damage control.”

“Jenna McCabe,” Greenwood said with some surprise. “I’ve heard of her. Quite good, if a little green in

the business.”

“Green perhaps,” Bryce said, trying to sound polite, when all he felt was indignant at the slight, “but a

brilliant mind. She’s already come up with a plan we’ll be launching into action.”

Where the hell had that come from? Jenna’s plan was absurd, but hell, he was drowning here. He needed

to say something.

“I’ll be frank, Mr. Ryder. Greenwood Financial is in the business of making money. We aren’t quite

certain we can do that with you. Your restaurant, which only two months ago had a one-month wait list,

is now virtually wait-free. Your television show has dropped from number one in its slot to third. The

housewives, Mr. Ryder, have tuned you out, and turned on Dr. Phil. I’m sure you’ll see that you are not

a wise investment choice for Greenwood Financial.”

“With all due respect, Mr. Greenwood, I’m working on it. I have two perfect pieces of coastal property

and I know I can make a success of the restaurants. I have great ideas and innovative cuisine. What I

need is someone to give me a chance.”

“Your father, have you approached him?”

Bryce would rather have his nuts shaved off than ask his old man for anything, especially business advice

or, God above, money.

“We have a difference of opinion, sir, about what makes money and what is a waste of money.”

“Ah.” Greenwood’s smirk said he knew what the difference was. Bryce’s father would buy anything and

turn it into a shopping plaza with cheap chain stores and fast-food joints, not a gourmet restaurant. “I

know your father. Lance Ryder is a sound judge of investments. His purchase of the Bargain City chain

was pure brilliance.”

Really? Ask the people whose downtowns became ghost towns after the discount Bargain City stores

took up valuable land.Bryce would bet his restaurant that most of those towns would love to have his

father’s head on a pitchfork. But Greenwood, like his father, was old school. They didn’t give a shit who

they ran over to make their buck. But getting into it with old Greenwood wasn’t going to help his cause.

The kind of backing Bryce needed could only come from an institution the size of Greenwood Financial,

so there was no point in riling the old guy. It was best just to swallow his opinions and play stupid.

“Perhaps, Mr. Ryder, you might wish to discuss things further with your father. I’m certain that with his

years in business he would have much wisdom to impart.”

Not fucking likely.“I’ll take it under consideration.”

“Have you ever thought of purchasing land that is more . . . reasonably priced and perhaps a little closer

to home, Mr. Ryder?”

He thought of the oceanfront property he was going to turn into his next restaurant. Goddamn, he wanted

it. Could taste it, the salt air, he wanted it so much.

“I know of a fifty-acre parcel coming up for foreclosure, not too far from here. There is another buyer

interested—”

“No, thanks.” Bryce wanted the ocean view, one facing the Pacific, the other the Atlantic. There would

be no giving in on that.

“Very well, Mr. Ryder. One month. Turn your image around in four weeks, and Greenwood Financial

will back you.”

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