Just a Taste [Private Relations 1] (Siren Publishing Classic) Page 5

  Walking over to the commissary, she grabbed a lackluster salami sandwich, a bag of chips, and a refill on her coffee. After practically inhaling it, she got back to work on the meatballs, diced what felt like twelve pounds of aromatics and herbs, portioned the remaining meats and seitan. It was really the least texturally objectionable of all vegan-friendly proteins. Then she started the stocks simmering for the soups and stews.

  Feeling a second wind kick in, she heard a slightly disembodied ringing from her office. Hustling in to answer it, she grabbed it on the fifth ring.

  “Hello?”

  “Sara. It’s Deacon. I figured you’d still be here. When was the last time you ate?”

  “Two thirty, Dad. How about you?”

  “Smart-ass. I’m upstairs and probably gonna be here for a while. I’m ordering Chinese. You interested?”

  Checking her watch she said, “Yeah. Holy crap. It’s seven? I’ve got at least another hour and a half here. Yeah. Totally interested. Grab me a kung pao chicken. Spicy Level—face scalding. Let me know what I owe you.”

  “Kay. I’ll swing it by when it arrives. I can collect when I get there.”

  “Awesome. Hey. Thank you.”

  “No problem. Bye.” And he disconnected before she could respond.

  Shrugging, she moved back into the kitchen and got back to work on the base for the soups. She was softening the aromatics in three separate stock pots and was in the process of pouring in the stock, when Deacon slowly opened the door, carrying a small cardboard box, which ostensibly contained her meal.

  Sniffing the air, he said, “Mmm. I love the smell of butter and onions cooking. That’s the best.”

  “It can’t be better than what you’ve got in the box. That’s dinner, right?”

  After receiving a nod to the affirmative, she sighed happily then asked, “What do I owe you?”

  He just shook his head and said, “I’ve got it.”

  Shaking her head, Sara said, “Nope. It doesn’t work that way,” as she went to the office for her purse.

  Smirking, he said, “It does today.”

  Holding up her hands, she said, “Okay. Gimme.”

  Setting the box down, he handed her two containers. “One of those should be white rice.”

  Grabbing chopsticks, he handed them to her.

  Opening the chicken immediately, she snatched the chopsticks out of his hand and dug in.

  “Oh man. That’s perfect.” She moaned in appreciation.

  Smirking, he grabbed his own container and chopsticks. Leaning casually on the counter, he opened his and took a bite.

  “Agreed. So how did your hunt for a replacement go? You said you were interviewing today, right?”

  Mildly surprised that he remembered, she said, “Went awesome, thanks for asking! Found someone who’ll be a great fit. Experience, genuine interest in the business, not a total mouth breather. I think he’ll be a great addition to the team. What about you? Did you crack the case of the fucked-up billing?”

  Smirking at her crass language, he said, “I wish. The more I dig, the more I find. If I hadn’t fired them already, they’d all be fired. It’s a nightmare.”

  Wincing in sympathy, she said, “If you want it done right, sometimes you gotta do it yourself.”

  “Absolutely. This was already royally screwed up, so the last thing I’m going to do is trust someone else with it.”

  “No kidding. I’d love to say that’s why I’m here at seven, but I’m just a little OCD about managing things still. I’ve been running the show for so long that it’s hard to let go.”

  “You seem to know what you’re doing. You’ve got a successful business by all accounts. You’re doing something right. We probably wouldn’t have hired you, otherwise.”

  “Thanks, I guess.”

  “Don’t forget to enjoy it, though. There’s no point to any of this,” Deacon said, waving his chopsticks around in an all-encompassing manner, “if you’re too busy to enjoy your successes.”

  Sara nodded slowly, and said, “I’m working on it. It’s easy to get wrapped up in the daily.”

  “I have the same issue. I’d love to tell you it gets easier, but that’d be a lie.”

  They ate in silence for a few minutes, then Sara said, “You’re making it really difficult for me to actively dislike you, ya know.”

  Peering at her, he asked, “I didn’t realize that was a thing. Can I ask why you’re trying to actively dislike me?”

  Shrugging, Sara asked, “It’s better than the alternative.”

  Even more intrigued, he asked, “Better than what alternative?”

  Shoving another bite into her mouth, Sara gestured with chopsticks as if to say, “Full mouth. Can’t talk now.”

  With a smirk, Deacon said, “No, no. You finish chewing, I’ll wait.”

  Swallowing, and pinning him with a bland stare, she said, “Being really attracted to you,” and took another bite, as if she hadn’t just dropped a bomb on him.

  Still somewhat surprised she just put that out there, he asked, “Would it be so bad? I mean, really?”

  Chewing thoughtfully, Sara said, “We’ve got a working relationship, and that comes first. I’m just getting my company off the ground. At the least it’s a risk, and the worst it could destroy some of the progress I’ve worked for. Plus there’s possible rejection, which is always kind of awkward. Don’t know that I wanna do that again.”

  Deacon said bluntly, “Rejection would be a non-issue here, Sara. You must realize that by now. The other night in the garage, I was ten seconds from biting that lower lip of yours. The fact I’m feeding you now? I like the security guy, but he didn’t get dinner. I want to be around you and I’m not being subtle about it.”

  He stared at her steadily now, as if he was trying to gauge her response to his words.

  Then he continued. “But, I get what you’re saying. It’s probably not the smartest move either of us could make, mixing business and…whatever this is.” Deacon made a circular gesture with his hand and finished. “In the spirit of honesty though, the more I’m around you, the less I give a shit about that.”

  “Well you’ve got the least to lose. But that gives us something to think about, doesn’t it?” she asked, tossing the empty chicken container in the trash.

  Realizing that the conversation had effectively ended for now, he followed suit and then said, “That it does. Have a good night, if I don’t see you.”

  At her nod, he moved toward the exit of the kitchen and said, “Oh. Ask the security guard to walk you to your car tonight. It’s getting pretty late.”

  Smiling, she said, “Don’t worry. I got smart. Parked out back by the receiving door. Thank you for dinner. And the company.”

  Nodding, he said, “You’re welcome. Night then,” as he walked through the double doors and back toward the bank of elevators.

  After he had walked through the doors, Sara exhaled. At least she wasn’t alone. For whatever that was worth.

  Chapter 6

  By shortly after noon the next day, Deacon had decided to give the whole thing with Sara last night a wide pass. She was completely right. It was inappropriate and they needed to be able to have a working relationship.

  Walking into the kitchen area to confirm when she would be ready to set up, he was surprised to find the food being loaded onto carts by her and another person.

  Seeing him walk in she smiled and said, “Hey. Just about to get everything set up. We’ll be ready with plenty of time. What’s up?”

  Feeling things were back on a more even keel, he replied, “Just making sure everything is under control. People will start to filter down around 12:45 p.m. Need anything?”

  “Nope. We’re cool. Having the extra help this morning made the process much less painful.” Lowering her voice slightly, she added, “The new guy seems to be working out well. Thank god.”

  Smiling, Deacon said, “Great. I’ll let you get back to it.”

  By the tim
e 1:00 p.m. had rolled around, the ballroom was packed with JDC employees. After taking a quick turn at the microphone, Jim directed everyone to dig into the buffet.

  After everyone loaded their plates and got seated, Deacon finally took a moment to dig into the food. It was really, really good. If the silence as everyone plowed into their meals was any indication, Sara had really come through. Looking to Jim and Chris, he gestured to the food. They nodded. The search for a caterer was over, assuming that no one got food poisoning.

  Giving the crowd a few minutes to eat, Jim approached the microphone again. He outlined the deal that had been struck with the New Orleans Jazz, what they had in store during the fourth quarter, and areas of opportunity.

  Deacon took his turn at the microphone next, going over the changes they could expect in the accounting department and discussing the company profits. Chris wrapped the meeting up, going over some of the challenges that each department within the company had taken on and overcome.

  As the employees were filtering out, Sara came in with the cart to move the remnants of lunch back into the kitchen. Deacon noticed several people stopped by to tell her how amazing the food was. Heading back upstairs, he made a mental note to swing by the kitchen in a bit and tell Sara what an amazing job she had done.

  By the time he surfaced from his last meeting, it was 3:45 p.m. Heading downstairs, he made a beeline for the kitchen. Seeing the kitchen mostly back in order, Sara and her employee were completing the last of the cleanup.

  “Sara. That lunch was pretty epic. Whatever you did to the cornbread…it was amazing.”

  “Thanks! However, that was Bret. Oh. And, Bret Walker, Deacon James.” Looking at Bret, gesturing toward Deacon, she said, “He’s our contact here at JDC.”

  Bret stepped forward to shake his hand, then looked at his hand, currently covered in soapy water and food bits. Grimacing apologetically, he nodded and said, “Nice to meet you. Glad you liked the cornbread.”

  “Probably the best I’ve ever had. Did you do the donut things too?” Deacon asked, curiously.

  “Nope. Those were all Ms. Westing,” he responded, smiling as he moved back toward the sink.

  “For the love of God, Bret. Call me Sara.”

  Laughing, Deacon said, “Assuming no one gets food poisoning, we’ve all kind of agreed that we’d like you to continue on as our caterer. You guys knocked it out of the park. When you get a minute, c’mon up to my office and we’ll talk about the event schedule for the next couple months.”

  With a look of relief on her face, she agreed, “Yeah. Absolutely. I’ve got another forty-five minutes or so here but I’ll stop by if you’re still going to be in the office.”

  With a frown he said, “Yep. Another late night on the agenda. Just come on up. Heather will most likely be gone for the day so just head on back to my office.”

  Seeing her blank stare, he elaborated. “The receptionist.”

  Nodding, she said, “Oh, okay. See you in a bit, then.”

  “Bret, nice to meet you,” he said, as he walked out of the kitchen.

  Heading back upstairs, he dove into his work until he heard a knock on his door.

  “Come on in,” he said, elevating his voice.

  Looking up at the door, he was somewhat surprised to see Chloe walk through the door.

  “Hey, Chlo, you’re here early,” he said.

  Looking at her watch, she said, “Uh…it’s like ten minutes to five. I was coming in to go over the financials with you. Remember?”

  “Jesus. I didn’t realize it was that late. Glad you’re here,” he said, looking at the clock on the corner of his computer.

  Grinning, he grabbed stacks of file folders from the desk and handed them to her.

  Since Chloe had a degree in accounting, and specialized in forensic accounting, Deacon thought it may be a good idea to get her opinion on what he’d started uncovering. The billing inconsistencies had started out randomly, but were starting to take on a pattern.

  Settling down on the couches, they started to go through the invoices Deacon had pulled, when he heard a light tap on the door.

  “Come on in.”

  The door opened and Sara walked through and spotted Chloe on the couch. “Oh hey. I didn’t realize you were busy. I can come back.”

  “No no. Just working on the accounting stuff from the other night. This is my forensic accountant and favorite sister, Chloe. Chloe, this is Sara, our caterer.”

  “Only sister,” Chloe said dryly. Standing up, she moved toward Sara and shook her hand.

  Smiling as she looked at the table, Sara said, “Nice to meet you. Looks like you’re gonna be busy.”

  Directing her next statement to Deacon, she said, “I can really come back. This isn’t exactly pressing, right?”

  “No worries. Take your time, Deak. I’ve got enough to work with for now,” Chloe piped up.

  Chloe directed her attention back to the mountain of invoices.

  Deacon approached his desk and sat down. Gesturing at the chair in front, he quickly printed off the event calendar and circled a few upcoming dates. Scribbling, he noted the approximate number of people at each event.

  Leaning forward, he looked up. Sara leaned in, watching him scribble on the paper. Looking up when he stopped writing, their eyes locked for a moment, then held.

  Sara finally broke the eye contact, looking back at the page. Finally he scribbled “Chloe’s Birthday” in a blank square. “Want to do something special for her. Call me about this later?”

  Giving him a curious look, she spoke, “I’ll be in touch on the next couple events tomorrow. I’m sure we can accommodate you, though.

  Oh and before I forget. There are some leftovers in the fridge. It’s mostly the vegetarian stuff,” she said with a slight grimace, “but there’s a little jambalaya and cornbread in there, too. Probably better than ordering in again.”

  Perking up, he asked, “Any of those minidonut things with the powdered sugar and strawberry stuff?”

  Piping up from the couch, Chloe said, “Oooh! Donuts?”

  Sara laughed and said, “The resemblance is suddenly uncanny. There should be some left, along with the strawberry compote, too. On that note, I’ll leave you to it. I’ve got twelve straight hours of uninterrupted sleep to catch up on. Nice to meet you, Chloe. Deacon. Talk soon.”

  After the door closed, Chloe said, “So that’s Sara? She’s cute. I like her. She seems nothing like your bitch ex-fiancée if that helps any.”

  Claire. He’d dated her for two years. They’d been engaged for six months, when he found out she’d been having an affair with someone in her office for about a year. He’d been hurt by the whole thing, but mostly angry with himself for being such a shitty judge of character.

  Rolling his eyes, Deacon said, “I’m sure she’d be thrilled to know that, but she’s just my caterer, Chloe.”

  Snorting, she responded with, “Not for long, bro. All those sexy eyes you guys were making. I’m surprised your desk didn’t catch fire.”

  “What? You’re being ridiculous,” Deacon said. “We’re friends. Professional acquaintances, really.” Chloe smirked and said, “That will last, I’m sure. By the way, your accounting staff was shitty, but not maliciously so. I want to look over the rest of it, but that’s my gut feeling.”

  “I’m just glad I caught it quickly.”

  Deacon sighed then continued. “And you’re probably right about Sara. It probably won’t stay professional for much longer.”

  Chloe stared blankly, as if she was waiting for him to go on.

  “I kinda like her. We’ll see what happens. She’s a little gun shy because of the business angle. But, accounting. Money. Work. Let’s get back on track.”

  With a smile Chloe said, “Before we do, what’s this talk of donuts? And jambalaya? Feed me. I demand it.”

  Laughing, he walked toward his office door and motioned for her to follow.

  Chapter 7

  Sara was whipp
ed. After running for ninety-six hours on only a couple hours of sleep a night, she was utterly exhausted. Thankfully, there were no jobs tomorrow, and nothing pressing. She was going to have some dinner, a hot bath, and then sleep. It had been so long, she’d almost forgotten what a full night’s slept actually felt like.

  Today had gone incredibly well, if the feedback was any indication. She wanted to be excited, but she was too tired to care.

  She was also mildly intrigued by Deacon’s request for help. Based on what he’d written, she presumed this was more of a personal request. She would’ve mulled it over more, but sleep won.

  Around 11:00 a.m. the next day, she surfaced. Stretching her muscles, she got up, had a leisurely cup of coffee, and shot Deacon an e-mail about his cryptic request, ignoring the request for a phone call.

  When he finally replied, she was charmed. He apparently wanted some guidance on good French food. He was throwing a small dinner party for Chloe’s upcoming birthday, and apparently it was her favorite.

  Admitting he wasn’t much good in the kitchen, but that he could follow directions pretty well, he asked for a few easy recipes. Picking a few of the more simple dishes, she shot him some ideas.

  Things were much easier between them when he was still a douche bag. Sara had no idea what to do with the sweetness she was discovering in Deacon. No idea at all.

  The rest of Sara’s week flew by in a blur. With the extra help at the shop, she was able to take a step back a bit. Bret was working out really well so far. His experience hadn’t been exaggerated. She only hoped he stuck around for a while.

  It was Saturday now, and rare as a white elephant she actually had a whole day off. Trying to decide between the spice shop in Santa Monica and ramen in Little Tokyo, her hunger finally won out. After a leisurely morning of doing not a damn thing, she showered, got dressed, and hopped in her car.