The Interview (2 page)

After washing his hands, he chopped fresh herbs, his wide shoulders moving under the stiff material of his chef jacket as he worked. His refusal to cross-contaminate her food was another bonus factor for him, as a firm grasp of the basics was the only foundation for growth. He tasted at each step, seasoning when needed. His skills were impressive but she wouldn’t know just how much until she’d tasted his meal.

A few minutes later, he clicked off her stove and began plating her lunch. His hands were steady, his movements sure. The plate he presented her was less stylish than the ones his Las Vegas chef dad created every day, but they were simple enough for her Ale. The steak was the centerpiece, the red potatoes and asparagus creating a wreath around it.

“Describe it,” she instructed him, her mouth watering as the sweet smells drifted up to her. And, she noticed with a further sniff, a hint of her signature Candied Pale Ale, a favorite at her restaurant. She hadn’t seen him grab the bottle while he’d been cooking, but, as she watched, he quickly provided her with it and a glass.

“Chef, what I’ve prepared for you today is a simply seasoned rib-eye steak with rosemary red potatoes and garlic asparagus. I’ve finished it off with a glaze of your Candied Pale Ale, which has just the right notes of candied nuts and cinnamon to bring your meal together. Enjoy.” He stepped back, looking proud of himself and satisfied with the dish he’d prepared.

As he should. The presentation of it was subtle and paired well with her restaurant’s image. Also, the use of her ale was a bit of a genius move, and one none of the others had even considered. It showed that not only did he enjoy cooking and knew what went together, but that he was already familiar with her restaurant and the ingredients in the ales he would potentially be working with.

He waited off to the side while she cut into her steak. It was a beautiful medium rare. She hadn’t given a preference and he hadn’t asked, but he knew enough to know that the default when his customer hadn’t given him a temperature was medium rare. It was the safest bet when dealing with all red meats and he was one smart cookie for remembering that.

After cutting off a piece of the steak, she took a bite and moaned with honest enthusiasm as the tender meat hit her tongue, the ale infused glaze aiding it in both sweetness and acidity to expertly balance the meat. She ate a little of the asparagus and the potatoes next. All nicely prepared, well-seasoned and correctly portioned for a dinner entrée.

Dotting her lips with a linen napkin, she hid her satisfied smile. “What did your father tell you when he sent you for this interview?” she asked, rising from the chair.

He looked surprised for a moment but quickly came to his senses and answered her. “He told me not to disappoint you. That a position at Ale could make my career, as it has for many of your sous chefs.”

She set the plate aside, having had her fill of the light tasting. His skills were on par with what she’d expected and his knowledge was exactly what she was looking for. He was green but had the background to make up for any lacking in his training. And his skills weren’t in question—his ability to follow orders and perform at the pass were, and she wouldn’t know his abilities there for a while longer. However, those things could be trained into the right chef. She wasn’t looking for an egotistical, highly experienced chef to run her Ale. What she wanted—and needed—was someone who could be worked with and molded into being her next executive chef. An older, more experienced chef often came with his own ideas and lots of baggage. Anne had dealt with a few like that in her time and she wasn’t eager to do it again.

“What would you do to Ale, if you became the executive chef?” she asked him.

Jacob appeared to hesitate. “What would I do…? I’m sorry, Chef, but I don’t quite understand what you mean. I wouldn’t do anything. I’d run it the best that I could of course. But I wouldn’t burn it down or anything like that.” He chuckled, sounding nervous.

Anne smiled, hoping to ease his fears somewhat, though it probably wouldn’t work. He was new to the world of being a professional chef—despite having watched it through his parents’ eyes since he was a small child. But coming into a career of his own had to be a bit intimidating for someone so young. She remembered it being that way too. Thankfully, when she was even younger than he was now, she’d had a good mentor who had shown her more than simply how to julienne a jicama.

“Maybe you’d like to give the menu a bit of a facelift? My favorites are on there, what would you like to add to it?” she asked him.

The handsome man really was her last, and best, hope for a qualified executive chef. She didn’t need him running because she’d scared him off this early. Still, if he couldn’t take a bit of pressure there really was no hope for him in this field. Chefs were a bunch of competitive assholes sometimes, herself included, and there had been plenty of sous chefs who had called her a bitch either before or after she’d thrown them out of her restaurant. She refused to put up with morons or assholes for any reason.

He swallowed loudly. “I’d add some rarer game meets.”

She twirled her hand. “Go on. This idea might have some merit.”

“Well, there are plenty of steak houses around.” He paused as she raised her eyebrows. “Though none nearly as good as Ale. Everyone knows it’s the best.”

Her ego placated, she smiled at him and he appeared encouraged by the gesture as he took a step closer and returned her smile.

“But maybe it could be even better if a few new choices were added. I’d keep them simply seasoned and present them in classical, easy to recognize ways. Like the staple of steak and potatoes. Only with your dark oak ale and a bison steak.”

Anne tapped her fingers against her chin. “The idea has potential. But bison, while a bit exotic, isn’t impossible to find here. It requires a visit to a specialty shop instead of the big chains for a good cut, but it’s still not extreme. Think bigger. What are your favorite meats that no one else has?” Anne could think of more than a few but hadn’t considered bringing them into Ale because she didn’t see the surrounding area as ready for a nice plate of anything more exotic than a roasted guinea hen stuffed with capers and a lemon cream sauce.

But maybe Jacob was right. Perhaps the market was growing up, their taste buds expanding in a new, more rewarding direction. A great steak was still a fantastic meal and she’d never allow the various cuts that she kept as staples on the menu to be taken off. But there was always room in a good restaurant to grow and change if it wanted to survive for another decade. And she planned on keeping Ale around for a lot longer than that.

“Rabbit,” he began, looking as if he were thinking aloud as he leaned back against the island and looked up at her old, rail station style lanterns. They were antiques transformed to work with modern technology—a blending of an old, stylish classic and modern convenience.

“That’s a good start, but just offering a roasted rabbit dish won’t cut it. Come on, Jacob, think a bit more. I know you’ve got something else under that shiny head of black hair. Give me something more,” Anne demanded.

He blushed, whether from embarrassment or something else she couldn’t tell, and she wasn’t about to ask. He’d have to do better than that if he wanted this job, though if she were honest with herself, he was already miles ahead of anyone else she’d interviewed.

Jacob’s green eyes met hers solidly. Anne challenged him, refusing to look away. He was young and needed discipline, training and more experience. She was willing to give it to him, in whatever capacity he wanted, but he had to know his place as well, and it would only be over her when she allowed it.

He looked away first and Anne smiled, knowing he’d start to learn his way soon enough. Especially if he stayed near her for any length of time. Which she secretly hoped he did.

“Ostrich,” he blurted.

Anne raised a dark eyebrow. “What do you know of ostrich, Jacob? If I were to give you a loin, how would you prepare it?”

He fidgeted for a moment but quickly recovered, this time looking far more in control of himself and sure of his answer. “Ostrich is an exceptionally lean meat that takes well to a variety of flavors. A quick sear works for it, though roasting it allows for more flavor to get in there.”

Though he sounded like he was reciting something out of a rare meats textbook, Anne had to give him credit for thinking on his feet. It was another skill all chefs needed to learn right away. She wouldn’t allow him free rein with her brigade immediately, in fact she imagined that the transition would take a good six months before he’d truly be the executive chef she’d be comfortable leaving her Ale with. But he had a glimmer of the man she wanted in that position.

Among others.

Anne nodded and approached him, her heels clicking against the pale, travertine tile below her. She brushed her fingertips against the light stubble of his jaw and chin. He appeared uncertain, his arms frozen to his sides as she trailed her fingers down the side of his throat to rest against the exposed patch of his collar bone where the jacket split.

“Are you seeing anyone, Jacob?” she asked him. She had a code—if he said yes she would walk away. He’d get the job, he was perfect for it. But she would not explore this attraction to him outside of her own mind. But if he wasn’t…well… That possibility was as tantalizing as fresh strawberries with aged balsamic vinegar and rich chocolate custard. She licked her lips, the thoughts of her favorite indulgence reminding her of what else she enjoyed. Namely beautiful men like Jacob.

He shook his head. “I’m not. Are…” He swallowed thickly and Anne watched, fascinated as his Adam’s apple bobbed against the pad of her thumb. “Are you?”

Smiling, she undid the first button on his jacket. “No. You’ve got a choice to make here, Jacob. And you’ve got the job, so don’t think that your decision in this matter is at all dependent on your position at Ale. That one is sealed for you. This would be a private, extremely discrete matter between the two of us. Do you understand?”

“I think I do.”

He sounded uncertain and his beautiful green eyes shifted to the side, further adding to her suspicion that what would come next would throw him off guard.

“I want you in my bed. For this afternoon at the very least.” Anne undid the next of his buttons, a surge of heat spreading down her legs. She shifted, pressing her thighs together to relieve some of the pressure. “You’ll do as I say and enjoy submitting to my desires above your own. Do well and this could be something more long-term. Share what happens between us with anyone else and you’ll never be invited back.”

His eyes went wide as he stared down at her and, for a fraction of a moment, Anne was afraid she’d misjudged him. But then he bent his head, opened up to her and offered himself for a kiss. She took his mouth eagerly, tasting the meal he’d made for her on his tongue and leaning into his touch as he brought his muscular arms around her back. He held her close, drifting his hands over her shoulders and back, trailing them down her spine.

She undid the remaining buttons on his jacket, the little black dots moving under her experienced hands. Someone else might have simply torn his jacket from him. But she knew how important a chef’s jacket was in their profession and she wouldn’t do that to him—or it—just for the sake of getting to him faster. She had plenty of time to enjoy him all she wanted. His jacket slid off his shoulders and she ran her hands over his arms and the sleeveless tank he wore underneath. It went as well, joining his jacket on the counter behind him as he reached his big hands down to cup her ass, pulling her tight against him. Anne lifted her leg and hooked it around his waist, giving him better access as he slid his hands to the slit between her thighs and hooked his fingers on the silk of her panties.

He tried to tug them down and she stepped away, not wanting to fuck him in her kitchen, because that was where this was leading. “Not yet, Jacob. In my bed,” she panted, giving him an explanation as she moved farther away from him, putting some space between them. The separation was difficult for her and she glanced around, looking for a suitable surface for them. Finding none, she went back to her original idea of having him in her large and quite comfortable bed.

He nodded. “Show me the way.”

Smiling, she took his hand and pulled him through her apartment to the last door at the end of the hall. She stepped into her beautiful pale blue bedroom. It was tidy and perfectly put together with a mix of Victorian touches and modern accessories. None of that mattered to her now though, as she moved Jacob to her bed.

“Undress me,” she demanded, holding her arms out to him. She was worried he might become a placid man whom she could easily control. If he was, she’d be bored of him within the hour. But he surprised her by obeying her order in his own way. He lifted her onto the bed and covered her with his big body, resting her against the thick mattress. His hips dipped against the V in her thighs, pressing his hard cock against the silk of her panties as her skirt bunched up around her thighs.

His kisses were erratic—
he worshiped
first her lips then her cheek before he trailed his tongue down to her neck and he worked his fingers on the buttons of her blouse. The thin material fell away, exposing her breasts to him. Groaning, he rubbed the outside of her pussy through her panties, making her moist as he sucked at her hard nipples through the silk of her bra. He soaked the material then quickly moved on to the next, moaning into her breasts as he moved against her, grinding her into the bed beneath them.