Hot Flash (23 page)

It seemed as if the only relationship I was building was with the wrong man. A man who had annoyingly left me wanting more. I wasn’t sure, however, that wanting more with Davin was such a good idea. He’d lit a fire in my dormant libido. A fire best left banked until I found the right person with whom to share the balance of my life.

Selfishly, I had to resist an urge to drop hints to him about the benefits of pursuing a career in sales—traveling sales. It was selfish, though, because his interests and talents were best spent with the youth of today, developing their minds, leaving them wanting to
learn
more.

That morning, I knew I needed to move on. But it wasn’t easy.

When I arrived at work, Big E met me with a message that Nagasaki wanted to see me. Was it possible he’d changed his mind about hiring from outside? Immediately, all thoughts about my relationship problems dissipated as I entered the elevator to go see my boss.

I’d been busting my rear trying to show how capable I was, how ready I was to be named chef. If hard work counted for anything, then Nagasaki would see it my way.

I waved at Mandy as I passed her office and when I reached Nagasaki’s office, I smoothed my hair. For once he’d see me clean and well groomed.

His assistant was seated at her desk outside his office. “Hi, Jill.”

“Hi. Mr. Nagasaki said he wants to see me?”

“Have a seat and I’ll let him know you’re here.” She indicated the closed door to his office. “He’s with someone right now.”

As I took a seat, she lifted her telephone receiver, punched in a number on the base unit, then said, “Mrs. Storm is here to see you.”

After disconnecting the call, she said, “He should only be a few more minutes.”

A few more minutes of patience hell. I watched as she spun her in chair and began typing something on her keyboard, wondering if she knew how hard it was to sit and wait. Was it good news or bad that had Nagasaki requesting my presence? Glancing down, I saw that I already had a big black smear on the lower part of my white slacks. I shifted my legs so it wouldn’t show.

Nagasaki’s assistant was busy and didn’t see my movements nor did she seem inclined to entertain me while I waited, so I looked around for something to occupy my attention. A glossy copy of
Hospitality News
on the table by my chair looked interesting. Picking it up, I noted that La Papillon was featured on the cover and Mr. Nagasaki stood in the foreground. Cool.

I flipped through the magazine until I found the article on Mr. Nagasaki and began to read. It talked about his opinion on how La Papillon was making great strides in the Las Vegas market, about his growth strategies, then went into some detail about his personal life, including a photo of him with his wife and family.

I scanned the article briefly, then returned to the section about his plans for growing the business. He reiterated La Papillon’s policy of employee growth from within.

How could he say that and then tell me I wasn’t one of those who could move up? It was blatantly unfair, unless he now meant to tell me he’d changed his mind. Finding this article had to be a good sign.

I had some moving on to do and I desperately wanted to be promoted.

Just then, Nagasaki’s office door opened and a young man I recognized from Guest Services stepped out, shook Nagasaki’s hand, and thanked him for his time.

Nagasaki’s gaze met mine, and he waved me to come in his office as the young man departed.

I bowed.

Nagasaki bowed, then, with a sweep of his arm, indicated the chair in front of his desk.

As I approached and took a seat, I ventured, “How are you today?”

“Well. And you?”

“The same.” It wasn’t a particularly good opening, but it was better than sitting there tongue-tied or shouting, “Give me the promotion!”

He took his seat behind his desk and pushed a folder aside. “I wanted to let you know that I’ve retained a new chef.”

At least he put me out of my misery right away by thoroughly dashing any hopes I had about becoming the new chef myself. “Who is he?”

“Chef Benjamin Breck. I’m certain you’ve heard of him.”

“I have,” I said while inwardly gulping in distress. What I’d heard about him wasn’t good, but I couldn’t tell Nagasaki that. While I’d never personally met Breck, he was notorious. The guy wasn’t a boozer like Chef Radkin. No. He was far worse.

The man was reputed to be the biggest control freak in the industry, although I did have to grudgingly admit he was also quite talented.

Mr. Nagasaki smiled. “He’ll be a big draw to La Papillon.”

It was certainly true that Breck was well known as a celebrity chef—something I patently wasn’t. I met Nagasaki’s gaze and the look he gave me was one of pure pity.

Somehow he knew I had hoped he’d changed his mind. Somehow he knew how disappointed, and yeah, frightened I was about the future.

And he felt sorry for me.

I did, too. How on earth would I cope with Chef Breck?

Geez, I hated changes and this one was a doozy. I blinked back a couple of unexpected tears. There was no way I would allow myself to display unchecked emotion in front of Nagasaki.

“I’m certain you’ll do your best to show Chef Breck the ropes and make his transition as easy as possible.”

Nagasaki sure seemed certain about me, even when I wasn’t so certain myself. “Yes, sir. When does he start?”

“Next week.” He rose from his chair, clearly indicating our meeting was over.

I stood, bowed, and had to clear my voice before I could manage the words, “I’ll do my best.”

“My confidence in you is well placed.” He bowed.

I bowed again and left as quickly as possible. As I headed downstairs, my stomach was in knots. I needed pastries, and I needed them immediately.

“I have no clue why I let you drag me to Barnes and Noble,” I said to Mandy, later that afternoon, as she whisked me toward the self-help aisle. Mandy and I had walked the short distance from the hotel to the store. My mood wasn’t exactly kindness and light. It was more like surly and I had to fight a tendency to snarl at the other bookstore customers.

“Experts say that when you’re down, the best thing to do is to get up and get moving.”

I snorted. “Do they really say that?”

“Well, they probably do. We can find a book on the subject to find out for sure.”

“Let’s not.”

“You’re such a buzz kill.” We reached the aisle and Mandy began to look over the selection, adding, “I’ll find you a good book on career advancement. It’ll make you feel much better.”

“Do I have to feel better?” I had this whole negativity thing going on. Chef Benjamin Breck would start work next week. “I’m enjoying whining.”

“You don’t have to listen to yourself.”

“Oh, yeah? Like my brain shuts off when I’m not talking?” I couldn’t stop obsessing over Chef Breck. As soon as people in the industry learned he was my new boss, I had begun receiving condolence phone calls. They gossiped about him being a major control freak. I also heard whispers that he was into coke, and I don’t mean the soda. Whether or not the scuttlebutt was true, everyone I spoke with ranted about his micromanagement.

Not that I mind control freaks, mind you, since I’m something of one myself. But that, you see, was the problem.

For the past four years, I’d had free reign of the kitchens at La Papillon. Becoming subordinate would take some getting used to, and I wasn’t sure I could adapt. “I’m going to be miserable. I just know I am.”

Mandy pulled out a book, glanced at the back cover, then replaced it on a shelf. “You haven’t even met Chef Breck. Give him a chance.”

“I don’t have much choice, do I?”

“You could always quit if it gets too bad.”

There was no way on earth I could do that. Life was evolving too fast as it was. Change was in the air, and I was clinging to the
now
, with my teeth, fingers, and toenails.

“Oh, my Gawd,” said Mandy breathlessly as she pulled another book from the shelf.

“Did you find something that would help me?”

“Sorry.” She read the back blurb, then waved at the book’s cover. “This one is for me.”

“What is it?”

“Finding and Taming Your Techno Nerd.”

“Huh?”

“About man hunting for geeks!” She pulled the book to her bosom, quivering with excitement. “Can you believe it?”

“I can believe anything right now, but it is hard to imagine that there are more of
your
type out there.”

“We’ll keep looking for a book for you. There’s got to be something good on career management for chefs.”

“I’m a sous chef, remember? I’m never going to amount to more than sous.”

“That’s not a good attitude. Look in this section.” She pointed out another shelf. “There’s bound to be something here.”

I pretended to look, but all I could see was Nagasaki’s face when he told me they’d hired Breck. He’d looked at me with pity.

“Do I seem pitiful?” I asked Mandy, pulling down a title on empty nesters and scanning the table of contents: Separation, Divorce, Children Leaving Home, Changing Jobs. Good heavens, it was like a laundry list of my life.

“You don’t seem pitiful to me. Why would you think that?”

“Never mind.” I slid the book back on the shelf without reading further. I was not in the mood. I had to fight an urge to hide in the nearest available restroom. Depression hit me like a wall of books. I needed to get out of there. Now. “Shoot. I just remembered. I have to pick up my uniforms from the cleaners. I gotta go.”

“Are you sure? We could have some cappuccino and chat in the coffee bar.”

“I need clean clothes for tomorrow. Who knows when I’ll be summoned upstairs again? The new chef might show up.”

“If you’re certain?”

I nodded.

She gave me a hug before I headed out, back to the hotel and where I’d parked the Animal. My thoughts kept circling the same theme over and over again. If anyone had called me a loser, I wouldn’t have argued the point.

My life had pretty much reached an all-time low. While I had a date scheduled with Salesman Number Three, I didn’t hold out much hope that it would be much better than Date Numbers One and Two. My luck was totally sucky, so why should Greg be any better?

When I arrived at Evolve Dry Cleaners, my mood hadn’t lightened. As the teenaged clerk moved my items to the hanger rack, the bell over the door tinkled, indicating another customer had come in.

The teenager drew in a deep breath, then smiled enormously. “Mr. Wesley! How are you doing?”

I turned and was surprised to see Davin.

He smiled at the clerk. “Hi, Gretchen.”

Just what I needed, another run-in with him.

Gretchen went to the back room to get something and I noticed that he didn’t have any dirty clothes in his arms. “Are you picking up clothes, too?”

“No. Stalking you.” He smiled. “It’s another part of my nefarious scheme, remember?”

“I’d hoped to put your scheme out of mind entirely.”

I was getting pretty good at these little white lies.

Davin Wesley was
not
the kind of guy I needed or wanted. Not only was he way too young, but he didn’t travel. He couldn’t afford college tuition. And from everything I’d learned about him, he was a stinking homebody. Instead of staying out of my hair, allowing me to be queen of my own universe, he was the sort to call me at work to remind me to pick up toilet paper on my way home.

Not good.

But right now all I could think about was the other night—when he left me wanting more.

The good thing was that thinking about the softness of his kiss pushed all thoughts about work out of my head. I no longer felt depressed. I felt positively randy.

“It’s almost dark,” he said. “When I saw your car outside, I thought you might like some help.”

So there I was, feeling all female. When he offered to take my clothes to my car for me, I didn’t tell him no. I didn’t suggest he leave me alone.

What did I do?

The stupidest thing.

I blushed.

He grabbed my dry cleaning bags, then held the door open for me. Within minutes, the bags were safely stowed in the back of the Animal.