"No," he said with a laugh, and gestured behind him with a thumb. "Cale here is."
"Kale?" Alex echoed blankly, her eyes sliding to the still half-closed door. She didn't see any evidence of a second man. Frowning, she set the phone back in its receiver and leaned to the side, trying to see out into the kitchen as she muttered, "Kale is a vegetable."
"Not kale. Cale ... with a C," Bricker explained, and then glanced around and frowned when he saw that the second man hadn't entered. Scowling, Bricker stepped out of the room briefly, and she heard him mutter, "What are you doing, man? Get in here and try to read her."
Alex's eyebrows rose at the words, and she briefly wondered what they meant, but then Bricker reappeared, dragging a man in a charcoal-colored suit into the room as the fellow said, "I was looking for something to cover my nose and mouth with. Dear God, how anyone can work around all this food is beyond me. The stench is unbearable. I-"
Alex arched one eyebrow as the man spotted her and came to an abrupt halt just inside the door. She'dopened her mouth to snap that her kitchen did not stink, but the words never made it past her lips. She found herself simply staring at the man. He was ... interesting. Not handsome in the classical sense, but definitely interesting, she decided and GQ worthy in that suit. Her gaze quickly slid over his tall, muscular build, clothed in what she was sure was a designer original. Then her eyes paused at his face to take in the strong, angular features, silver-blue eyes, and clear complexion.
What was it with all these friends of Mortimer's? she wondered with a frown. Every single one had perfect skin and arresting eyes.
"Well? Can you read her?" Bricker asked impatiently.
"What?" Cale glanced toward him with a confusion that seemed to clear quickly. "Oh, right."
His gaze shifted back to her, and Alex found herself sighing as he focused on her with a concentration she recognized from every other male Sam had introduced her to since hooking up with Mortimer. It was the look that usually preceded the man's then completely ignoring her or even walking away, the look that was giving her a complex.
"Great! Another one of your and Mortimer's weirdo friends," she muttered with disgust, and turned an angry glare on Bricker as she asked, "Are they all crackheads, or has listening to your music too loud made them all mentally deficient? "
"I know they don't do crack, so it must be the music thing," Bricker said with amusement.
Alex rolled her eyes. "I don't have time for this, Justin. Can he cook or can't he?"
Bricker glanced to Cale. "Can you read her?"
"Read what?" Alex asked irritably, her gaze shifting back to Cale to see that his expression had become even more concentrated, focusing on a spot in the center of her forehead.
"You can't, can you? " Bricker said with what sounded like glee.
"No." The word was barely breathed, and the deep concentration on his expression faded to be replaced by a slightly stunned expression.
Alex frowned. Cale wasn't walking away like all the other men had after that look. Instead, he was staring at her as if she was some rare and exotic creature. She would have preferred the walking away, Alex decided as discomfort began to slither through her. Shifting impatiently, she glanced to Bricker again. "What is-?"
"He can cook," Bricker interrupted cheerfully.
Alex narrowed her eyes, sure there was something here she was missing but completely clueless as to what that could be.
"Ms. Willan?"
Alex glanced to the door with a start. Bev, whom she'd promoted to sous-chef to replace Peter when she'd raised him to head chef, was standing in the doorway, an anxious look on her face. "Yes?"
"The orders are coming in and Peter-I mean Pierre," she corrected herself with a grimace, "hasn't come back from wherever he went. Should I-?"
"Peter," Alex emphasized the name, "isn't coming back. He only showed up today to quit," she addedabruptly, recalled to her present problems. "Get started on the orders. I'll be there in a moment."
Wide-eyed, Bev nodded and backed out of the office, leaving Alex to glance back to the two men. Cale was still staring as if she were the crown jewels, but Bricker was grinning like the idiot she was beginning to suspect he was.
Sighing with exasperation, she shifted her full attention to Cale. "Where did you train?"
"He's from Paris," Bricker announced.
"He is?" she asked with surprise. Sam had said Europe, but Cale's accent wasn't exactly French. Actually, she couldn't place it at all, it held hints of French, with some English intonations and even Germanic ones as well. Realizing that what accent he had wasn't really relevant, she pointed out, "I didn't ask where he was from, but where he trained. Was it La Belle Ecole, Le Cordon Bleu, or-"
"Cordon Bleu," Bricker interrupted, and Alex narrowed her eyes on him briefly. When he merely beamed at her, she glanced to Cale to note that he was still staring at her. For some reason, that stare was starting to wear on her, making her feel like she had a booger hanging out of her nose or a smudge on her face or something ... which just annoyed her.
Refusing to give in to the urge to run her hands over her face and nose to check, she ground her teeth together and snapped, "Fine. He trained at Le Cordon Bleu. Where has he worked since then?"
When Bricker hesitated, Cale said, "I work for myself."