Before he could scoot out, Ildaria came through the swing doors with two coffees, the cup handles caught through the fingers of one hand, and silverware clutched in the other. She also had a jar of marmalade and a jar of raspberry jam caught between her arm and one breast. The woman thought of everything. She was also showing her waitressing expertise.
The omelet was amazing, and G.G. gobbled it up pretty quickly, grateful that she’d not only suggested it, but had made it for him. They then talked more about what the job entailed over their coffees, until Ildaria nodded and slid out from her side of the booth, taking his dirty plates and both their cups with her.
“All right, then. I think I’ve got it. I’ll take H.D. into your office and get started, so you can prep for tonight’s opening.”
G.G. wanted to protest that she didn’t have to go yet, that there was plenty of time. He was enjoying talking to her. But then his gaze slid to his watch and his eyes widened. They’d been talking for a lot longer than he’d realized. Three hours had passed since she’d walked in with H.D. The clientele would start arriving soon.
“I gave H.D. the last container of food for breakfast,” Ildaria announced as G.G. picked up the jam and marmalade. “Where will I find the food for his lunch and dinner?”
“It’s in the refrigerator in my apartment,” G.G. said, giving H.D. a nudge to get him to hop off the end of the seat so he could slide out of the booth. “I’ll run up and grab a couple now.”
“Okay.” She smiled and then turned away saying lightly, “Come on H.D., we’re going to the kitchen.”
The words were enough to make H.D. follow her. He even pranced happily at her side, his tail and ears flopping as he looked up at her and then ahead, before looking up at her eagerly again. The dog might not be able to talk, but he certainly understood a lot, and kitchen was one of those words he liked best since it usually meant food or a treat coming.
G.G. shook his head with amusement at the dog’s behavior, and then his attention slid to Ildaria, landing briefly on her sexy high-heeled shoes before moving up to her legs. The woman had killer legs with delicate little ankles and strong, slender calves. She was also wearing stockings with seams down the back, which was just sexy as hell, he decided before following those seams up to her black skirt. Now he noticed there was a slit up the back, just enough to make walking in the pencil skirt possible. It reached halfway up the back of her legs, showing a hint of the top of her stockings so that he could tell she was wearing thigh highs and a garter belt of some sort . . . which was sexy as hell to him. Damn. Who knew accountants/dog sitters could be so hot?
Down boy, he thought grimly. Lusting after Ildaria was wrong on so many levels. Not only was she an employee, which made her off-limits, but she was an immortal. Not for him.
Suspecting he’d have to remind himself of that often, G.G. set the jam and marmalade he was carrying on the bar and took the hall to the back of the building. He’d go up and get H.D.’s food . . . and maybe take a very fast, very cold shower.
Five
“Who’s a pretty puppy? Hmmm?”
G.G. paused in the doorway to his apartment at those words. Blinking, he glanced inside but all he could see was the end of the dining room table on the right at the far end of the room, and the back of his couch across from it on the left.
“Who’s a pretty puppy?”
Letting the door ease silently closed, he locked it and then started up the hall, passing the open door to the bathroom on the right and the closet on the left before the hall opened up to a large open space with the kitchen and dining area on his right and the living room on the left, both ending at a large wall of windows. What the building lacked in windows on the main floor, it made up for on the third and fourth floors. His apartment was one of two on the fourth floor. High, plate glass windows made up the outer wall here and in all the other apartments in the building. It