"The restaurant is closed Monday through Wednesday, so as long as I clean my mess, Robert has no problems with me using his kitchen. Would you like a drink of some kind?"
"Just a Coke would be fine."
He peered at me. "You wouldn't prefer something alcoholic? There are some very drinkable whites in the cooler."
"I prefer not to drink during the day." I shrugged. "A habit left over from the days when our restaurant was new and we often had to fill in at a moment's notice."
"So what is the name of your restaurant?"
He walked across the kitchen, and I found my gaze drawn by the way his faded jeans fit his butt. Nice didn't even begin to do it justice.
"RYT's," I said, suddenly remembering he'd asked a question.
He opened the door of the huge commercial fridge and cold air rushed out, swirling around his boots. He glanced at me before he stepped inside, and the amusement so evident in his bright eyes suggested he knew exactly what had been distracting me.
"Your restaurant has been creating some buzz recently," he commented as he reemerged. He kicked the door closed, then strode back, two bottles of Coke in his hand. "Glass or bottle?"
"Why create more dishes?"
"A girl after my own heart." He opened the Cokes, then handed one to me, his fingers brushing mine then pulling away. But the heat of that all-too-brief caress lingered and burned.
"We've been lucky," I commented. "We hit the market at the right time, and we managed to employ some great staff."
"Timing and staff are both very important, but management also plays its part. A restaurant is only ever as good as the people who run her."
He stopped in front of me, filling my senses with his intoxicating presence. It wasn't just the scent of him, wasn't just the heat of him, but rather an overwhelming sensation of danger and desire and man. As if the three had combined in this one being, creating something that was far beyond the norm.
Which he was. He was an Aedh, after all—and from what Mom had said, this burn was designed purely to get me into bed.