Just a Taste [Private Relations 1] (Siren Publishing Classic) Page 4

  Vegetarian Options:

  Spicy vegetarian stew

  Cornbread casserole

  Jambalaya with Tofu

  Sides:

  Collard greens

  Fried Okra

  Mixed Green Salad

  Dessert:

  Fried Beignets with macerated strawberries

  Fresh fruit

  After reading the menu, his stomach grumbled, reminding him that he had skipped lunch. Looking at the clock, he responded with an affirmative on the menu, then made his way down to the commissary to grab a sandwich. As he approached the door, he saw Sara at the register with a cup of coffee in her hand.

  She turned to face him fully and said, “Oh, hey! I just sent you the menu. Let me know what you think. I need to order the food.”

  Deacon smiled and said, “Your menu reminded me that I hadn’t yet had any lunch. I was coming down here for a sandwich. Approved. It looks perfect. I’m just bummed I can’t have it ‘til Tuesday. I love spicy food.”

  “Me too. Maybe I’ll make myself some lamb korma,” Sara said, obviously remembering it fondly.

  Deacon almost whimpered. “Lamb korma, homemade? I’m about to order a ham and cheese sandwich. You’re killing me here.”

  “I’m sure it’s a perfectly good sandwich,” Sara said, with a blankly innocent look on her face. “I mean, it’s no lamb korma, but…”

  “Thanks. That was helpful,” Deacon said, his voice laced heavily with sarcasm.

  Sara bit her lip, trying not to laugh, then finally said, “I’m a problem solver. What can I say? “

  With that parting shot, Sara exited the commissary and walked back toward the kitchen.

  Every single time she bit down on her bottom lip, he felt his body involuntarily respond.

  Shaking his head, he realized this was a dangerous train of thought. He wasn’t supposed to be thinking about her like that. This was strictly a professional relationship. He was really beginning to regret the fact that he’d seen her naked…and the fact he’d very much like to again.

  Controlling his wayward thoughts around her was already becoming an issue.

  Heading up to his office with a coke and sandwich, Deacon ate and managed to finish identifying all of the unpaid-for work by the time 6:00 p.m. rolled around. Feeling a huge sense of accomplishment, he gathered his coat, phone, and briefcase. He headed toward the lobby, stopping to poke his head into Chris’s door.

  “Going for Indian food tonight. You wanna come along?”

  Chris shook his head, and said, “Remember the blonde from the other night at Greeley’s?”

  Nodding, Deacon said, “Yeah. She was pretty hot.”

  Chris nodded and then grinned. “Having dinner with her tonight. Her place.”

  Smirking, Deacon said, “Gee, you’re sure you don’t want Indian instead?” and then added after a brief pause, “Have a good night, man.”

  Heading downstairs, on impulse he opened the double doors of the kitchen, and was surprised to see the light still on in Sara’s office.

  Sara looked up, startled, as he stuck his head in the door.

  “What are you still doing here, Sara? It’s kinda late.”

  “I agree, but my seafood distributor is having some challenges getting the shrimp for the jambalaya. I’ve been hunting through my contacts for a new source. What about you, Mr. CFO? Shouldn’t you be home already?”

  “Touché,” Deacon said, smiling. “My accounting team decided they were gonna stop billing some of our clients and double-bill others. I’ve been trying to make sense of all of it for the last week and a half. I’m done looking at it all for the night. Now, for some reason, I have this ridiculous craving for Indian food. I’m not sure where it came from though.”

  He followed that with an accusing stare.

  “Oh. There’s a great place in Burbank you should try. It’s in the downtown area next to the mall. The korma is delicious. I bribed the chef for his recipe,” Sara said, smiling at him.

  “I love that place…but that seems fairly bad for business, doesn’t it? Giving away your recipes?” Deacon asked, confused.

  “Maybe,” Sara said. “He just found me too charming to say no to.”

  Deacon took a moment to absorb that.

  “Or,” she concluded, “maybe I catered his daughter’s graduation when she insisted she wanted something other than Indian cuisine for once. I’ve never been entirely sure which one it was.”

  Giving her a bland stare, he said, “I’m sure it was a little of column A and a little of column B.”

  Smiling, she said, “Probably.”

  Picking up her cell phone when it buzzed, she pressed a few buttons rapidly then gave a fist pump in celebration.

  “Yes! My guy came through on the shrimp. I can go home now,” Sara said, as she snapped her laptop shut.

  “Oh good. The jambalaya is saved. If that’s all you had on the agenda here, then I’ll walk you out. It’s already dark,” Deacon said, not wanting to leave her just yet.

  Standing up, she rolled her shoulders and stretched. Taking the clip out of her hair, she massaged her scalp for a moment as if it had been hurting, then shook her hair loose. The scent of her shampoo filled the air.

  Deacon stared at her, trying to figure out if she was doing this on purpose or not. Sighing, he decided he needed to get a grip.

  “Oh. Okay. Thanks. I wasn’t looking forward to walking through the dark parking garage by myself,” Sara replied.

  They chatted idly for a few more minutes as she packed up her things. Then they headed out of the building. Walking toward the parking structure, the wind between the two high-rise towers had picked up. Sara hugged herself and tightened the scarf around her neck.

  Seeing her discomfort, Deacon asked, “Are you okay? Do you want my jacket?”

  Shaking her head, she said, “No, no. I’ve been out here for a few years now, but I still forget how cold it gets as soon as the sun sets. Totally different than back home.”

  Ignoring her protestations, he took the overcoat off, and wrapped it around her shoulders. She immediately stopped shivering.

  “Thank you,” she said, quietly.

  Walking next to her, Deacon asked, “What floor?”

  “Third floor,” she said, walking toward the elevator.

  Stepping into the elevator with her for the second time today, Deacon was starting to run really low on impulse control. He could smell her shampoo still. His fingers itched to reach for her.

  When the elevator dinged, and the doors opened, they stepped out. She walked toward the lone red Mini-Cooper and said, “Well, this is me. Thanks for walking me out, and for the jacket.”

  Sliding his jacket off her shoulders, she grabbed her car keys from her bag. She held it in one arm.

  “You’re welcome,” he said, looking at her slightly flushed cheeks.

  He reached his hand out, and tucked a windblown strand of red hair behind her ear, lightly grazing her cheek. He felt her lean slightly into the touch for a moment, then her eyes widened.

  The arm that had been holding his coat stretched out in front of her, effectively filling the space between them.

  Reaching out, he took the coat from her and said, “Drive carefully. I’ll see you on Monday.”

  “G’night, Deacon. Enjoy your curry,” she said.

  Watching her drive away, he was struck by several thoughts at once. He was starting to genuinely like Sara. She was an interesting combination of class and humor. She didn’t pull punches and there was something really sexy about that for some reason.

  Those eyes were going to be his undoing.

  And, lastly, most importantly really, none of these thoughts were at all appropriate.

  Cursing, Deacon walked down to his car and called in the order for lamb korma.

  Chapter 5

  Sara got into her car, hands shaking. Knowing he was standing there, she started the ignition and drove away. The scent of his cologne, caught in her nose, o
nly intensified when she cranked up the heat.

  Pulling into the first parking lot she could find, she turned the car off and laid her head on the steering wheel. Even with their newly established friendship on shaky ground at best, one look at those eyes and she wanted to crawl all over him. Seeing that subtle shift from casually observant to warm desire totally undid her. Still.

  It was a stupid idea even entertaining these thoughts. She had very specific rules about mixing business and pleasure. She didn’t. Ever. It was a cardinal sin.

  Taking a few calming breaths, she got out of the car and walked into Target. She needed a coat. And socks. And wine.

  After wandering aimlessly around Target for the better part of an hour, Sara drove herself home. Letting herself into the house, she set down her bags and purse, and called for Smitty, her Scottish fold. Getting no response, she wandered into the kitchen to scrounge up some dinner.

  She scanned the contents of her fridge, eyeing the left over Chinese food dubiously. Deciding against it, she ransacked her freezer and microwaved some taquitos—the dinner of champions.

  Earlier, when Deacon had mentioned jalapeno poppers, he had no idea how close to the mark he really was. While in a business setting she would never serve them, at home she wasn’t that interested in cooking. Anything that required any prep at all wasn’t an option. She was strictly a microwave-ready or takeout kind of girl.

  Sitting down at the table with a beer and her dinner, she gave a slight jump when Smitty hopped up on the table to inspect dinner. Seeing nothing of interest, he gave a disinterested yowl and hopped back down. Trying to clear her mind, she finished the rest of her dinner and beer.

  Moving over to the couch, shoving the shopping bags unceremoniously out of the way, she flipped on the television. She hoped for some sort of distraction from her thoughts of Deacon.

  After finally landing on Donnie Darko after an otherwise fruitless search, she resigned herself to the fact that she was going to continue thinking about Deacon. She couldn’t watch this movie without thinking of him.

  On their one and only date, they got dinner, they went to see Donnie Darko at the local indie theater. As they walked back to the dorm, they had cut through the park. About halfway through their trip, it started to pour. Grabbing her hand, he made a dash for the closest pavilion.

  They were both soaked to the bone, and she was shivering. He rubbed her arms with his hands to warm her up, but almost immediately they ended up plastered against one another. They were all lips, tongues, and teeth right out of the gate.

  It rained pretty steadily for an hour and a half. Moving over to sit on one of the picnic tables, they ended up fooling around the whole time. Sara had her first orgasm from another person that night. Well, first several, if she was going to get technical.

  Looking back, Deacon had a surprising knowledge of the female anatomy. That should have been a warning. He had made her come several times using his hand and tongue before she finally had to beg him to stop. Her body wasn’t able to take anymore.

  They hadn’t had any protection, so Sara thought it only fair to return the favor. She gave her first, albeit slightly awkward, blowjob. She remembered feeling slightly clumsy at first, but Deacon hadn’t had any issue providing verbal and physical cues.

  His rough voice urging her on and the involuntary tightening of his fist on the hair at the nape of her neck gave her an accurate idea of what he liked. Emboldened by his obvious appreciation, she had managed to figure out the rest on her own.

  The walk back to her dorm room was kind of hazy, but after another fifteen minutes of heavy making out, they made plans to meet after class the following day for breakfast.

  When he showed up the next morning at her dorm room to pick her up, she had all but attacked him. She remembered taking his hand and tugging him into her room, grabbing the front of his Ramones T-shirt and fusing her mouth to his. Quickly picking up on her not so subtle hint, he pulled her hips roughly against him and devoured her mouth.

  Recognizing his obvious interest, she slid her hands under the edge of his T-shirt, wanting to feel his warm skin under her fingertips. With no warning of his intent, he slid his hands under the edges of her shirt and pulled it off her. Definitely down with the program, she mirrored his motions until they were both entirely undressed.

  By the time he rolled on protection, they were both panting wildly. She could still remember the way his eyes had darkened and then blurred as he slipped inside her, could hear the slight groan he made as he had adjusted to her tight, wet heat.

  Being of limited experience, Deacon was the largest guy she’d been with so far, so it took her body a minute to adjust to the invasion. When she wriggled her hips, he apparently took that as a sign to move, thrusting forward. They began to move against each other in unison for several moments, not breaking eye contact until she felt a delicious tension blossom in her lower belly.

  As if he sensed she was on the brink, he leaned down and bit her shoulder. The surprising mix of pleasure and pain shot her right over the edge. After a few rough thrusts, he had emptied himself into the condom.

  Panting with exertion, he moved off her to get rid of the condom. He lay back down next to her on his side and looked at her for a few moments.

  Before she could even catch her breath, he got up off the bed and got dressed. She dressed, too, because it would’ve been weird to just lie there.

  He mumbled something incomprehensible. Uncertain about what was going on, she looked at him expectantly. In answer he gave her a vague smile and a handshake, then walked out of the room.

  Shaking her head, Sara moved back into the present, disgusted with herself for that stroll down memory lane. Sexy though it may have been up until the handshake, she couldn’t allow herself to continue down that path.

  Deciding she had spent way too much energy on this line of thought, Sara moved her dishes to the dishwasher, and grabbed a can of cat food for Smitty. At the sound of the can opening, he dashed into the room, started winding himself between her calves, and purred loudly.

  Smiling at her fickle beast, she scraped the food into his cat bowl and set it on the ground. With a sniff and a small yowl as if to say, “Thanks but what took you so long?” he attacked his meal with vigor.

  After rinsing the can and throwing it into recycling, she decided it was time for bed.

  Idly scratching Smitty’s ears, she wandered back to the bedroom, changed into pajamas, grabbed a book, and then proceeded to pass out almost immediately.

  The rest of Sara’s weekend flew by in a whirlwind of hors d’oeuvres and entrees. It left little time to think about Deacon, and even less time to worry about the future. By 9:00 a.m. on Monday, fueled by four hours of sleep and a venti iced mocha, she was so ready to hire a replacement for Maggie. The way she figured, it was probably time to hire a full-timer anyway. At least she could sweeten the deal by saying it wasn’t a temporary gig.

  After the four incredibly unsuccessful interviews, and three more cups of coffee, Sara was getting cranky. She had hoped to have some options, but at this rate she’d be lucky to find someone with a pulse, let alone any sense of urgency.

  During the last interview, however, Sara hit pay dirt. Bret was experienced, had a genuine interest in the business, had actual verifiable references, and was even well spoken.

  Best of all? Available immediately.

  Having asked Elle to contact his references and then offer the job if they even recognized his name, she grabbed a refill on her coffee and headed over to JDC to start taking deliveries on food.

  By 2:30 p.m. her caffeine buzz had officially worn off, but the day was far from over. Putting on her headphones, she started to work on the meatballs for the stew. Elbow deep in Cajun-seasoned pork, she let out a yelp when someone touched her shoulder. Whirling around, she saw Deacon standing there, a slight smirk tugging at his lips.

  Shit. Had she been singing?

  Peeling off her gloves and taking out her earbud
s, she said, “Jesus Christ. You scared me!”

  Seeing the smirk turn into a smug grin, her eyes narrowed.

  Sniffing disdainfully, she asked, “Is there something I can help you with?”

  “Nope. I’m good. Just checking in. How’s it going so far?” he asked with undisguised humor.

  Her lips twitched despite her annoyance and she said, “Well, so far. All the deliveries arrived, and I’m starting on prep now.”

  “Actually, if you’ve got a minute, I’ll show you the space for tomorrow.”

  Looking at the clock on the wall, she moved to cover the meat and put it in the refrigerator.

  “Oh yeah. I should probably do that at some point. Now is as good a time as any.”

  After removing her apron and hairnet, she followed him out of the kitchen and around to the other side of the main lobby to a set of double doors.

  He opened one of the doors and gestured her inside. Looking at the full ballroom set up, she was floored.

  “A full ballroom? Really?”

  “We got a hotel on the cheap and converted parts of it. Kept some of the others. We thought the kitchen would be a good investment and the ballroom can easily convert to a conference room. It really allows us a lot of autonomy.”

  Gesturing to the large banquettes on either side of the hall, he asked, “Will that work?”

  With a nod she said, “It’s perfect,” and then after a small pause, followed up with, “Deacon, I’m really amazed at what you have here. It’s your own little empire.”

  He studied her face for a moment, until she almost backpedaled and finally responded with, “Thank you. That really means a lot. And back at you. Owning your own business is huge.”

  “Thanks,” she said after an uncomfortable moment. “Speaking of work, I need to get back to that. The guy overseeing my work on this job is a real tyrant.”

  Eyes narrowed, Deacon asked, “Is he now?”

  Snickering, Sara replied, “Totally. I’m trying to stay off his radar! Catch you later.” She walked out of the ballroom.

  Settling back into work took Sara a few minutes because she checked in with Elle, who confirmed that Bret’s references checked out and that he had accepted the job. He’d be working with her tomorrow. Doing a happy dance she thought about the meatballs, but decided lunch was a necessity before she dove back into work.