Tracy grabbed a broom from near the door and started to sweep up the mess. Right away, the repetitive stroking motion let her mind wander back to her earlier vision and the mysterious man in it. What were his intentions? Why was he appearing to her? Tracy knew that she was safe for the time being. After all, it was "his" blood that the man wanted, not hers.
What if he was lying? Her thoughts then took it further. What if he shows up at your door right now?
She froze and stared down. The constant drag of nervous apprehension was starting to get to her. Her hands were shaking and her heart was pumping a mile a minute.
What are you going to do if it is him?
It had to be. She could feel it in her gut, which had quickly twisted its self up into tight, painful knots.
A hard, firm pounding sound made Tracy jump, the broom’s handle slipping from her hand and falling down into her nearly-made glass pile. It didn’t even register with Tracy, who was eyeing the door and wringing her hands together but still not moving.
Again the knocking came, though this time it was enough to get Tracy moving. She walked slowly over to the door, took a deep breath and jerked the thing open.
At first, the bright light of day made it hard for her to make out the man’s features. Tracy squinted her eyes and bit the inside of her cheek, trying desperately to see the man she was sure would be her undoing.
When her eyes finally came into focus a few seconds later, Gordon Baxter’s light skin and dirty blond, swept-back hair.
Tracy sighed a deep breath of relief and extended her hand. "Hi. I’m Tracy."
Gordon met her handshake with a smile.
"It’s a pleasure," he said and softly flicked his head to get a stray chunk of hair out of his eyes.
The award-winning chef’s features were chiseled and rugged. Even his crystal blue eyes screamed masculinity. He was taller than Tracy, though not by much and was already dressed in his newest whites.
Realizing that the two had been standing there for a little longer than they should have been, Tracy released her grip on his rough hands and stammered, "Come, uh, come in. Please Mr. Baxter."
"Thanks. And, please, call me Gordon."
He walked past Tracy, who had already begun to relax. In fact, she felt like a huge weight had been lifted, though the impending grand opening was more than enough to keep her spirit bogged down in the mean time.
Gordon walked in and set a sizable case down next to the bag of spilled salt shakers. Tracy had been so distracted that she didn’t even notice the thing until he did so.
"What happened here?"
He poked the scattered pile with the tip of his black shoe.
"Oh, oh!" Tracy scampered over and quickly swept the mess up into a dust pan. "That was nothing."
She dumped it out and cast the small, plastic pan aside.
"Can I show you around?"
"That’s okay," Gordon’s voice was farther away than she expected. While she was busy sweeping up, he had made himself comfortable. By the time she looked back, he was up near the front of the kitchen, inspecting the range.
"Is everything okay?" Her voice did little mask her anxiety.
Gordon looked up to the stacks of new pots, pans and dishes.
"It looks like it to me."
"Good," she sighed. "Do you want to have a seat and go over the paperwork?"
"No problem."
As the pair started out of the kitchen, Tracy glanced over to the bag that he brought with him. She wanted to know what was inside, but didn’t dare ask. Who was she to question one of the best chefs in the world, after all? Instead she grabbed one of the yellow folders near it and continued on her way.
Out in the dining room, the chair where she had been sitting when Mr. Hayes took her was right where she left it. She hurried over and took the other three seats down, then gingerly laid down the papers.
Gordon sat down across from her and scooted his chair in.
"So," he said and folded his hands together. "I trust you’ve had a chance to look at the contract that the lawyers finally agreed on."
"Yes. It all looks good to me."
"Great. Where do I sign?"
Tracy rifled through the papers and plucked out one with a little, red flag sticking onto the corner. She grabbed a pen out of her pocket and laid it on top of the document in front of Gordon.
"Right there, please."
Tracy glanced down. There, near her shoe and in plain view, was the pair of lacy panties that Mr. Hayes had neglected the night before. Upon seeing them, Tracy did her best to muffle the gasp that rose up in the back of her throat. Hoping that Gordon hadn’t seen them, Tracy quickly kicked them under the table’s raised feet and bit down on her lip in a feeble attempt at hiding her embarrassment.
Gordon scribbled his name down quickly and handed the pen back to her.
"Looks like we are in business."
Tracy suddenly felt giddy. It took everything that she had to keep from melting into a giggling school girl right then and there. Gordon, for his part, didn’t seem to notice.
"I know what we have talked about the menu at some length," he said and leaned back in his chair, "but obviously I would prefer to do a private tasting so that I can get your final approval. We need to hammer this down so we can get our orders out to the vendors."
The way in which the middle-aged chef spoke made Tracy hold onto his every word. Every minute of his years of experience shone through in his tone. Anyone could tell, just by listening, that he knew exactly what he was talking about. To Tracy, that kind of confidence made her imagination run wild.
More than that, however, she found herself helplessly drawn to him. For all of the press and attention that his successful career had drawn, people actually knew very little about Gordon Baxter. It was, so it seemed, to be just the way that he wanted it. But to Tracy, it was only a begging invitation to want to know more.
He brought his hands up and rested his index fingers on each side of his tightly-angled chin.
"So what do you say?"
"Great," she replied. "That would be great. It will be me and my boyfriend, Mr. Paul Hayes."
"Of course." Gordon nodded and pushed the contract back toward her. "How about tomorrow night around seven? I need some time for prep and all that."
Tracy smiled. Her thoughts finally felt a little lighter for the first time in weeks.
"I can’t wait."
***
"So," Tracy turned to Mr. Hayes, who had his eyes fixed on the road in front of them as it whipped by their luxury car. "Are you excited?"