RecipeforSubmission (10 page)

“Thank you.” Kyra’s frustration was gone in an instant. The
food smelled so good, her mouth watered.

The waitress didn’t say a thing but picked up her cola and
took it away. It was half full still, and she hadn’t asked for a refill.

The waiter stepped forward, set the glass on her table, and
started to uncork the wine.

“I didn’t order any wine.”

He smiled at her as if she’d been speaking some obscure
foreign language and poured. Weren’t they supposed to let her sniff the cork?
Maybe he spoke Spanish. She didn’t. “
Mi no
—”
She stopped, and
tried again. “
No vino.
” Was that Spanish or Latin?

He smiled at her again, bowed deeply. “
Bon appétit, mademoiselle.
”

Her French wasn’t any better, but at least she knew the word
for wine. “
Ne vin pas. No vin.
” She felt the heat come to her face at
how badly she was mangling the language, but it was better than not
communicating at all.

He bowed again and walked away.

She set her elbows on the shiny table and held her face in
her hands for a long moment. If she ever saw Drew again, she had a few words to
tell him about his restaurant. She certainly wasn’t going to pay for wine she
hadn’t ordered. Resigned, she picked up a fork. She had to admit it all smelled
absolutely lovely. She picked up a steak knife and started to saw at the
salmon, but it flaked off at a touch. Its light pink interior showed that it
had been cooked through. They hadn’t even followed her request on that. She
looked around, saw the waitress halfway across the room helping another
customer with seemingly no intention of bringing her a diet cola, and gave up.
She lifted a forkful to her mouth.

The tartness of the artichoke and the salmon mixed
perfectly. She closed her eyes while she felt the salmon flake in her mouth.
She hardly even had to chew. So this was why the tables were filled. They
probably didn’t mess up every order. She sipped the wine; it was sweet, but not
too sweet, the perfect complement to the salmon. She went back and forth
between wine and salmon a few times, nibbling and sipping. She lifted a
broccoli floret to her mouth and she’d be damned if even that didn’t taste
good.

For the next several minutes she was lost in the food,
savoring each forkful. She almost didn’t notice someone sliding into the seat
across from her. She looked up and saw Drew Ryan.

“You.”

“Were you expecting someone else? When you went ahead and
ate, I assumed you were alone.” His eyes were sparkling as if he held all the
cards. He’d had that same look on his face when he’d tied her to his bed.

“Why didn’t you call?”

“Pierre, my chef, has been sick this week. This is his first
day back and I’ve been filling in, which has meant I’ve been here from ten in
the morning to after midnight every day.”

Her face softened. “It’s nice to see you. And the food is
delicious.”

“Thank you. I was watching you eat. It’s good to see someone
take such pleasure.”

She blushed and raised her hand in a futile attempt to hide
it. “I ordered it seared, but the cook screwed it up. And I didn’t order the
wine.”

“No, you didn’t. And yes, I found Pierre cursing about the
damn patron who wouldn’t trust the chef’s judgment, and the twice-damned
waitress who’d asked her how she wanted it. Cecilia’s new. She won’t ask
again.”

“It wasn’t her asking I minded—”

“But it was her asking that
I
minded. Anyway, I took
what Pierre made to your specifications and tossed it in the trash, much to his
delight. And then made the dish myself. The sauce isn’t built to handle the
flavor of raw fish, they would fight. And to drink a diet soda with it is a
crime against nature.”

Kyra blinked. Was he angry because she’d ordered the wrong
food or drank the wrong drink? But he didn’t sound angry, even if his words
were over the top. Passionate, but not angry. “I don’t know what to say.”

“You could try ‘Yes Sir’.”

Oh my.
“Yes Sir.”

“Do you mind if I join you? I ate but it would be a pleasure
to watch you. And I might share in the wine. Compliments of the house. As is
the meal.”

“I can pay for it. I will—”

“After your order was botched so badly? I couldn’t hear of
it. The meal was late, you didn’t get what you ordered—no, no, I insist.”

You didn’t let me get what I ordered. Damn you.
At
least now she knew why he had that grin on his face. He
did
hold all the
cards.

He waved at the waitress and she came quickly, bearing a
glass and setting it before him. It looked as if she’d missed her chance to
tell him he couldn’t sit down too. Not that she’d been planning on doing it,
but she was tempted to take the wind out of his sails. And yet his confidence
was also attractive. She wouldn’t have to mother him, that was certain. But she
ought to say something.

“You have a lot of very sexy waitresses.” She meant to say
it neutrally but she hadn’t managed to keep the accusation out of her voice.
“Not, um, that I’m attracted. Is it part of the hiring process?”

He chuckled and poured a glass for himself. “You’re thinking
they’re my own private harem? I’d never touch an employee in that way, and a
few have asked to be touched. And almost all women are sexy, anyway.”

So he drew at least some lines. “You dodged my question.
Sir.”

“It was impertinent. But since you pressed nicely, yes, the
waitresses
and
the waiters are part of the ambience, but they come in
all shapes and sizes. The key isn’t that they have beautiful bodies—it’s that
they all think well of themselves. Sometimes too well.” He chuckled and then
grew serious. “They eat good food, and it’s a very physically demanding job.
Most of them have been here for quite a while. You happened to draw an
exception.”

It had been too long between forkfuls. She’d set the knife
aside, as the salmon flaked so easily that it wasn’t necessary or useful.
Raising her fork to her mouth, she savored the contrast between the tartness of
a sliver of artichoke and the more subtle taste of the fish.

“So my turn for a question. What brings you here?” Drew
asked.

She shifted her weight. “Would you believe that I was hoping
for some of that tuna?”

“Yes, I would. Is it true?”

She hadn’t thought of the fact that complimenting his
cooking might feed the man’s ego as much as telling him she hoped to run into
him. She looked up from her food and met his gaze. “Partly.”

He smiled. “And the other part?”

“I’d rather not say.”

He grinned. “I have three pleasures in life—good food, great
sex and watching a woman admit something she’s too embarrassed to say.”

She wrinkled her nose at him. He would say something like
that. “You like humiliating people.”

“Humiliate? Never. Embarrass? Certainly. Nothing I love
better than a good blush, and yours is coming along nicely. Not quite as red as
you were the other day, in the club, almost naked, tied up and on display. Or
when you were in my room, spread out, your charms—”

Kyra laughed. “Okay, okay, you’ve made your point! I came
here hoping I would see you. And also because I was hungry. I’d lost myself in
my work.”

He grinned. “I’m fortunate that my work doesn’t interfere
with my meals. I’ll make you an offer, then.”

“One I can’t refuse?”

“One you can refuse, but won’t.”

She wondered if he knew how attractive that confident smirk
was to her. Probably. He played her so easily. It occurred to her there was
some question she wanted to ask him, but she couldn’t remember what it was. “So
what’s your offer?”

“My offer is this, that after you finish eating, you walk
out of here with me and follow my directions exactly for the rest of the
evening.”

“Doesn’t sound like a very even deal.”

“Have we had any even deals yet?”

She was about to say in the club, but she realized she’d be
lying. Yes, they’d taken turns. But what he’d given her was a lot more than
she’d given him. She’d been like a gnat trying to sting an elephant, swinging
that flogger at him, and he’d left her skin feeling electric and her pussy
paradoxically feeling both sated and frustrated. She’d gotten more pleasure
than he had, and it wasn’t from her being selfish.

“No. You’ve always had your way.”

She expected him to tell her
and you enjoyed it
, but
he didn’t. He smiled and said, “Exactly.”

Her heart beat harder.
Shit. I should go back and work
some more. But I’ll be thinking of him the whole time.
She took a deep
breath, trying to calm the pounding in her chest. “Fine.”

He smiled. “The restroom is behind you, past two tables and
then to your right. Take off your panties and then come back. In fact, you are
never to wear panties again on any date with me.”

“Why not? And you said after I finish my meal.”

He chuckled. “You’re very sharp and I like that in a woman.
I did indeed. Hold me to it, if you like. I’m afraid my desire got in the way
of my restraint.”

He leaned on the word restraint, and Kyra wondered if it was
intentional, and did he mean to remind her of how he’d tied her up? Maybe,
maybe not. She didn’t know with him. She suspected she never would know, and he
seemed to read her like a book. One thing she was sure of, and that’s that it
would give him pleasure for her to follow his orders. She got up, grabbed her
purse, and took two steps toward the restroom. Then she remembered what she had
wanted to ask him.

She whirled. “Would you play with a married woman?”

His face fell. “You’re not married, are you?”

She hadn’t thought that anything she could say would take
that perpetual arrogant smile off his face. Knowing it was a bad idea, she
couldn’t resist teasing. “We’re just in it for a bit of fun, right? Nothing
serious. You don’t do relationships, anyway.”

“No, and I don’t do other people’s relationships either,” he
said fiercely.

A couple of heads at the nearby table turned, and Kyra
remembered she was in a public place. Worse, he was at his livelihood and she
didn’t want to queer that for him in any way. If she kept going to the
restroom, she didn’t know if he’d be there when she got back. So she sat down,
lifted her left hand, pointed to her naked ring finger and murmured, quietly so
as not to make a scene, “Not married, and I’m glad.”

He stared at her. No, he stared
through
her, and she felt
that if she had been lying he would have known. She was very glad she wasn’t.
At last his face softened into a smile. “I don’t mind if you wait until after
you finish your food. That food is worth focusing on, after all.”

She smiled at him impishly, feeling mischievous suddenly.
She glanced around, moving to the far side of the seat from the aisle. The
people around had lost interest, or at least were too polite to keep staring.
So she slid up her skirt quickly, enough that she could hook her panties, and
pulled them down and over her knees, dragging the skirt back into some
semblance of decency at the same time. She had to wiggle to get them off the
rest of the way with any discretion, and when she kicked them off her feet she
nudged them to the corner. She suppressed a giggle. Some cleaning crew would
find them and wonder, at some point.

She’d been looking at the table during the whole operation,
without really realizing it, and she was startled when she looked back up to
see his eyebrows raised and a curious expression on his face. “Or maybe,” he
said, “I should require you to wear them
every
time, so I can watch you
take them off.”

She blushed. “I don’t think I’ll risk that.”

“I don’t think you want it to be your choice.”

My choice? Of course I want it to be my choice whether I
wear underwear or not.
Her heart sped up and she looked at him. He was
relaxed and intense all at the same time. At ease with himself, sharply focused
on her.
Maybe.
She felt her nipples tighten into hard little points and
knew they’d be completely obvious if she hadn’t been wearing a bra. Would he
want that to be his choice too? She squirmed, feeling dampness between her
thighs.
Fuck. This is turning me on.

“Part your knees, Kyra.”

That didn’t help. “How do you know they’re not parted
already?”

“Because you’re still squirming. Open them. No one can see.
Even I can’t see. But I’ll see it in your eyes.”

Slowly, inch by inch, she moved her knees apart, feeling the
air on her bare sex. She knew he was right, that no one could see her, for if
she raised her knees a few inches they’d hit the bottom of the table.

“Now enjoy your food,” he directed. She nodded and set to
work with her fork again. What had tasted delicious now was mouthwateringly
obscene. She drank a little extra wine for courage.
I’ll probably regret
this later, but not nearly as much as I’ll regret not seeing and feeling all he
has in mind.
She felt a deep warmth in her core, every primitive instinct
telling her that this was exactly where she wanted to be.

Then she felt his shoe against her pussy, with the tip
positioned right at her clit. He smiled at her as if nothing was going on and
casually sipped his wine. She thought of moving away, but didn’t. She wanted to
move against him, but she wasn’t that brave either. Nor did she trust herself
to keep her expression calm while having an orgasm right in the middle of a
restaurant. He wouldn’t take it that far, would he? She didn’t know. His foot
was moving, sending shocks all up her body. She could barely concentrate on her
food, as delicious as it was. She gulped down some more wine, feeling hot
despite the chilled liquid.

“I disinfected my shoe with alcohol before I came over here,
by the way.”

She blinked. She hadn’t even been thinking of that on a
conscious level, but she supposed she should have been. “Um, thank you.”