front desk, the pale blue sofas to the textured gray cushions, everything evoked a sense of serenity. She loved it.
Technically, the hotel wasn’t open yet. It’d had a “soft” opening last week, meaning a few special guests had been invited to check it out. Not having many people around added to the exclusivity, and for a second she wished she wasn’t here to work but had checked in with a hot guy for pure fun.
Ironically, she had the hot guy, and he was up for the fun, yet she was prevaricating. Silly, really, as this job should only take two days like the one in Auckland, but Wayne Storr had said she could have the room for longer. Extremely generous and a rare perk of the job. But Manny probably had to rush back to the hospital and wouldn’t be up for a few days’ R&R.
You won’t know until you ask . . .
Telling her inner voice to shut the hell up, she headed for the bar, where the head chef had said they’d meet. Tucked into an octagonal alcove off the foyer, the bar boasted spectacular views of the lake through floor-to-ceiling glass windows. The ivory leather–covered bar was like nothing she’d ever seen before, with matching armchairs surrounding glass-topped coffee tables scattered throughout the space. The entire place channeled a posh Hamptons’ sunroom, the perfect cozy vibe for settling down with a few drinks.
Like the foyer, the place was empty, except for a guy in the far corner. As she made her way toward him, her heels clacked against the floorboards. He must’ve heard her, because he stood, turned, and her heart stopped.
Jock McKell. World-renowned chef. In the flesh.
From the times she’d seen him on TV, she’d drooled over him as much as his exquisite food. He wasn’t tall, barely six feet, but his wiry body had strength, like he could wrestle gators. With a mop of unruly blond hair spiking in all directions, murky hazel eyes, and a road map of wrinkles, he shouldn’t have been attractive, yet women the world over fancied him. She was one of them, and as she tried to focus on putting one foot in front of the other, she really hoped she wouldn’t make an ass of herself.
“You must be the delightful Harper Ryland I’ve heard so much about,” he said, the faint Scottish accent as appealing as the rest of him. “Jock McKell.”
He thrust out his hand, and she was glad to see hers didn’t shake as she extended it. “Yes, I’m Harper, nice to meet you.”
They shook hands, and she couldn’t be sure if his grip lingered longer than necessary.
“Please, have a seat and we can discuss the dishes you’re going to style for me.” He rested his elbows on his knees and leaned forward, like he was about to impart some great secret. “I can’t wait to see what you can do.”
He made it sound like she’d be undressing him, and with his eyes boring into her, a sliver of unease pierced her awe at meeting an icon of the foodie world. She admired this guy in the same way she “admired” Chris Hemsworth, Ryan Gosling, and Bradley Cooper; from afar, her unrequited lust stemming from their unattainable movie-star quality as much as their looks. And while she may have a wee crush on Jock like most of the female population, she wasn’t interested in becoming yet another woman in a long line of probable conquests.
Then there was Manny.
Would she consider responding to Jock if he wasn’t around, if she didn’t already have a thing for the dashing doctor?
She’d never know, because she liked Manny. Liked him enough to treat him with the respect he deserved, and that meant shutting down Jock if he had any ideas beyond her styling skills.
“I’m looking forward to working with you.”
If he noticed her emphasis on “working,” he didn’t show it, his stare locked on hers increasingly disconcerting.
“I have the list of dishes to style. Are we sticking with that?”
“Yeah.” He leaned back and draped his arms across the back of his chair, cocking one ankle and resting it on his opposite knee, in a classic I’m the king of the world pose. “But tell me about you.”
Uh . . . no. Hell no. The thing was, when Manny looked at her like this, teasing with a hint of impropriety, she liked it. His flirting made her feel girly and appreciated, whereas Jock came across as arrogant and sleazy. He’d known her