Their tongues touched, played, drank. A burn blossomed deep in her gut and spread.
Miranda pressed against him and sought more to slake the need. His hands left her shoulders and he tugged her blouse out of her skirt, sliding his palms over her belly upward to cup her br**sts.
Her n**ples stabbed hard in an effort to be freed, and he obeyed her body’s command, unsnapping the front clasp of her bra.
She bit down on his lip.
Her nails curled and dug into his biceps. He groaned and caressed her br**sts, flicking her n**ples with his thumbs, urging them to tighten and swell and obey his command. She arched.
With a growl, suddenly he lifted her up from the stool and placed her on top of the bar. Never breaking the kiss, he devoured her mouth and pushed her thighs apart. Swollen and ready, she sank into a pit of greed and lust, her body craving release and dominating her usual control. Gavin sensed the change, responding by removing his hand from her breast and sliding under her skirt. Her thighs trembled when he hit the top of her stocking and stroked the bare expanse of flesh between the line of her panties. The scent of her arousal drifted in the air, and like a madman, he lifted the barrier and plunged one finger deep.
She cried out.
He swallowed her moans and pleasured her, adding another finger to her drenched core, stretching her channel and rubbing against the hard nub begging for attention. She bucked like a wild woman, too close to the edge, desperate to give him anything. Everything.
“Oh, Jesus, you’re so beautiful. So hot and ready for me. Open wider, yes, like that.”
His thumb rubbed against her cl*t and his fingers pumped and his teeth sank deep into her lower lip, soothing with his tongue.
The orgasm shimmered before her in all its haunting glory.
“Gavin!”
“Come for me, baby.
Now.”
Her cli**x ripped through her body. She screamed but he swallowed the sound. His fingers ruthlessly milked out her orgasm and the aftershocks caused mini convulsions. The pleasure went on until her body wrung dry, and she slumped against him.
Oh. My. God.
The image hit her full force. Spread-eagled on a bar in his family’s restaurant. His erection pounding and pressing against her thigh. The ragged pants from both of them mixing and mingling in the sudden silence.
What had she done? He slowly removed his fingers, eliciting another aftershock.
“I’m sorry.”
The words burst out of her like a cannon blast. “I didn’t mean to—I’m sorry.”
His gentle smile rocked her foundation. Where was his push to dominate the scene? The smooth seduction and dirty words that would confirm he’d be buried deep inside of her in the next few minutes? Instead, he tugged down her skirt and shifted his position. “What you just gave me was a gift. A priceless gift. Seeing you shatter in my arms again, touching you, kissing you.
That’s enough for me, baby.”
His sensual lips curved in a smirk. “I’m gonna grab a glass of ice water and take you home. Okay?”
She ran a palm down his cheek. “Okay.”
With a quick kiss on her forehead, he lifted her from the bar and set her on her feet. Filled up a glass with ice, guzzled it down, and hit the lights.
Then offered his hand to hers.
Miranda took it.
Interlaced her fingers with his. And let him lead her out of the restaurant.
Chapter Six
“We need you back. Now.”
Gavin rammed his shin into a crate, smothered a curse, and tried not to lose the cell phone tucked between his ear and shoulder. “Brian, I told you.
I have official leave for the next two months. I need the time, man.”
His boss’s grumble through the line was not a good sign. They’d been a tight team, and Gavin had worked hard to get to the top, proving himself time and time again to be the man to get the job done. It took a lot to get Brian to finally give him the time off, until he’d been forced to threaten permanent resignation. His boss knew Gavin never bluffed, so he caved. But his constant phone calls ruffled his nerves and poked at his insecurities. The idea of a green associate handling his clients and trying to take his place burned in his gut. Of course, that’s how the world of cutthroat business worked.
He’d accepted the game long ago.
God, he was tired.
The thought surprised him, even as he cursed again as lemons toppled over and one bopped him on the head. Who the hell had put the damn citrus fruits on the top shelf instead of the fridge? Brian’s voice droned on.
“I know you’re trying to be a hero and save the family restaurant, but at what expense? Look, Gavin, it’s time I tell you something big.
You’re up for partnership.”
Gavin paused mid-stride and gripped the phone.
“What? You said MacKenzie wasn’t taking on any more associates.”
“We’re making an exception. For you. Do you want it?”
Triumph coursed through him. Did he want it? Did he sleep and eat and breathe? Years of dedication and shit-taking and endless work finally morphed into the prize of all time. Partnership. “Hell, yes, I want it.”
Brian made an appreciative grunt. “Good.
I’ll give you three more weeks. Max. I need you in China.”
Satisfaction trickled away and left a rub of guilt.
Maybe before Miranda’s review hit he would’ve been ready early. He’d worked day and night to rebuild their clientele, but the crowds had thinned after his lady trashed Mia Casa.
His careful advertising now looked like a desperate attempt to find patrons instead of a stable restaurant boasting confidence. It was like he had started all over and lost all those initial weeks of work.
Then there was Miranda.
He still needed to try and convince her to come with him, and solidify their tentative trust.
“Um, I don’t know if I can get everything in order. I may need more time.”
Agitated silence hummed over the line. “I’m not screwing around, Gavin.
Wrap it up in three weeks, get your ass to China to close my deal, and we’ll sign on the dotted line.
Now get to work.”
The line clicked.
Gavin dropped the phone and rubbed his forehead. He’d done it.
Partnership meant security, glory, and the big time. Could he get Mia Casa profitable and secure in three weeks? And what about Miranda? His temples pounded with the beginning of a massive headache.
He trudged into the kitchen, where Tony was ripping someone over the phone in full-blown Italian. Gavin winced at the gutter words, especially when he switched to English. The phone slammed.
“Damn, Tony, who the hell was that? If it was a customer, I’ll kill you myself.”
Tony shook his head. “I do not believe such nonsense. Claiming to be Gordon Ramsey, willing to fix our restaurant. We do not need any fixing. That man should be in prison!”
The box slipped out of his fingers and slammed down on his toe. Pain exploded and cut through the panic. “Did you say Gordon Ramsey?”
Tony nodded. “Yes, he says he wants to put us on his show to embarrass and humiliate us in public. I told him what to do. And where to go.”
The breath choked him.
He spun around in the kitchen and frantically grabbed the phone. Caller ID. He’d just call them back. He’d fix it, he could fix it. “For God’s sakes, what’s wrong with you?” he shouted. “I filled out a million forms, begged, pleaded, and used all my contacts to get us on Kitchen Nightmares. This is our opportunity to go public, Tony! He comes in, renovates, fixes the menu, and then we’d be the hot place for everyone in New York to go to. And you told him to f**k off!”
Tony spat in his face, his cheeks ruddy with temper.
“Of course! We do not need outsiders, Gavin. I have seen that show—it is a humiliation and a display of dirty laundry. Your papa would die, and so would I.
No! I refuse.”
“You don’t have a choice! If we don’t turn profits around soon, Mia Casa is going bankrupt and we’re all out of a job.”
His longtime friend and cook looked at him with disappointment. “Do you want to leave so badly you would do this to us?” He lifted his hands, then dropped them against his apron. “If that is the case, go back to your job, Gavin.
We do not need you.”
Frustration mingled with shame. The result was a temper tantrum worthy of any Italian member in his family. “Oh, you needed me before to sink my money in here, didn’t you? You need me to settle the fights, and fill in with waiters, and save your ass time and time again because you’re so frickin’ emotional, I never know when you’re gonna blow up the kitchen! Maybe I will leave. Let you and Brando and Pop run it into the ground and then say I told you so.”
Tony slowly walked away, but Gavin found himself yelling into empty space. “Great, just great.
Walk away and tell Pop.
Go ahead.
I’m calling Ramsey and making this place the go-to restaurant in Manhattan—with or without you!”
He finished yelling and made the call. Several calls.
When he finally reached the top level, he was irrevocably told he would not be on the show after the fiasco, and Gordon had moved on to a more willing participant.
Gavin slumped into the barstool. His father walked in and took the seat next to him. They sat in silence for a while.
“Each time I find myself flat on my face, I pick myself up and get back in the race.”
Gavin dropped his forehead on the glass bar with a bump. “I don’t think so, Pop. Even Sinatra would agree with this one.
Tony screwed up bad. I had a chance to turn this whole thing around.”
“With an outsider?” His father patted him on the back. “Tony was right. You are doing a good job, my son. Already, we have had our most successful night with the new lounge opening.
The appetizer menu is flying out of the kitchen.
You must remember that the reason people will come and keep returning is the heart of a restaurant.”
“Not the food, huh?”
“The food is part of the heart. It is the people behind who care about the customers.
Who care about doing what is right and working hard and believing in something bigger. It is not about being on the right show or how much money you can put into advertising.”
The wrongness of his father’s lecture irritated him, but he pushed the emotions down. He may not agree with his father’s philosophy, but he respected him. He’d just have to work harder to come up with some catchy ideas in order to leave.
Maybe a full page ad in The Times? “Sure, Pop. Thanks.” He picked up his head and tried to focus. But first he had something important to do. “Can you ask Brando if he can pick up an extra shift tonight? I want to take Miranda out. I know it’s Saturday, but it’ll only be for a few hours.
Think he can handle it?”
“Yes. I will talk to him.”
“Thanks.”
“Remember, my son.
Don’t go and spoil it all by saying something stupid, like I love you. Not unless you are ready to commit.”
Gavin jerked back. The truth to his father’s words shook him to the core. It had been one full week since their date. The image of her half nak*d on the bar still burned in his memory and raised him to full staff. He craved to pull down her panties and claim her for his own, but knew it was too soon. He needed to move slowly and give her time to re-adjust.