Undercover Lovers (8 page)

He gave it one more try.
“Tomorrow night, I won't be home until after three—”

“
In the morning? That's
insane!”

“
I know, but such is my
life. Anyway, what about meeting me here around eight for
breakfast? We could eat, catch a few early morning cartoons while
snuggling in bed together. One thing could lead to
another...”

“
You’re going to work all
night, sleep less than five hours and then spend time with
me?”

“
Why not?”

“
I’m flattered, but wow.
You’ll be exhausted.”

“
I’ll only have a few hours
to spare.” He didn’t like the tone of this conversation at all. Was
she avoiding him? “I’ll need to go back to the restaurant to help
prep for Saturday night service. Our busiest night of the
week.”

Her fingers toyed with the
plastic fork. Her gaze remained fixated on the half-eaten bowl of
food. “It must be difficult for you to date,” she said
softly.

“
Hey, look at me.” He
clasped her hand and waited for those pretty eyes to focus on him.
“Don’t shut us down before we’ve had a chance to try it out. It
might work.”

It had never
worked.

“
It might,” she agreed.
Nothing in her voice suggested she believed her own
words.

God, he didn’t want the
night to end like this. It had been too spectacular to wrap up on a
sour note. When had things started to go wrong?

If he could take an
unprecedented night off to spend some time with Saffron, then he
could maneuver his schedule a little to be with her again. Once the
weekend was over, he could. Except he still hadn’t decided on the
Spring menu. Okay, after that he could. Especially after Restaurant
Week. Then there was the summer to start thinking about.

Fuck.

He
could
make this work.

Couldn’t he?

***

Somewhere along the way,
Saffron forgot about tomorrow. During the past several hours, she’d
lived in the here and now, relishing every minute with this
incredible man.

She stared blindly into the
bowl, not seeing the remains of the food now lying like a cement
lump in her stomach. She didn't want to think about this. Not once
had she considered the consequences of sleeping with August.
Nothing had prepared her to feel so abandoned once she figured out
tonight would be a one-time event. Maybe deep in her subconscious
she knew it already, but now that the reality stared her in the
face, she didn't like it one bit.

And great. To top off the
evening, maybe instead of waiting until morning, she should let him
in on her secret, before things got any heavier.

They'd been doomed from the
start.

“
This is really good,” she
mumbled. “You should put it up on the menu. Trust me, people would
gobble it up.”

August made a noncommittal
sound. “It’s a specialty item.”

“
If you guys are
participating in Restaurant Week, you’ll have them lined up down
the street for it.”

His eyes narrowed a
fraction. “In fact, we are participating in Restaurant Week. We do
every year. It’s one of our best ways to bring in new patrons who
will become regulars and not just tourists who only come once a
year.”

“
Awesome. What about the
soup? Will that be on the menu too?”

He stiffened a little. At
once her probing didn’t seem like such a good idea. “You’re awfully
interested in my menu all of a sudden. Is there a particular
reason?”

“
Not a particular reason.”
She tried not to look guilty. “I mean, I’m interested in knowing
about you and your world. Everything about it. Who knows? Maybe
you’ll even be able to teach me how to make a decent risotto.” Even
the light laughter added to put him at ease sounded
hollow.

“
Wait…you can’t
cook?”

“
Nope.”

“
Come on. If you can read,
you can cook. All you have to do is read the instructions
and
voila
,
dinner.”

“
I swear I could burn water.
I had a cooking instructor once who got so flustered with me this
one particular time. He said my attempts at poisoning him made him
consider an early retirement. He’s the one to convince me to
consider a career— ” She bit her lip, at once flustered with a
runaway mouth.

“
A career?” August repeated,
obviously prodding her to complete the thought.

Damn it
.

She would have loved just a
few more hours with him. A few more to get to know the obsessively
neat man who made her laugh. Hell, even a few more minutes just
enjoying his company.

When was the last time she’d
had such a good time? Dining alone, regardless of the variety of
places, didn’t end up being as glamorous as one would think her job
would be.

No. August made her laugh.
And he made her feel beautiful.

“
I should tell you
something,” she said. It took a reserve of courage to continue
looking him in the eyes.

His jaw tightened. “You work
for Brun, right? Did you lie to me?”

“
What? No.
God, no
. Not
that.”

August visibly relaxed. “Oh,
sorry. You sounded so serious that I thought the worst.”

“
Would anything else be as
bad?”

“
Other than to tell me
you’re married, I think that would be it.” He squinted at her. “A
little late to be asking, but you’re not married, are
you?”

“
No,” she said, shaking her
head slowly. “Not married.”

“
Great.” He pointed at the
remains of her food with his chin. “Eat up. There’s dessert,
remember?”

Her heart pounded with such
force, he must have been able to hear it across the few feet that
separated them. “I don’t work for Brun and I’m not married, but
August,”—she blew out a breath—”I want to let you know why we met
tonight.”

He lifted her free hand to
his mouth, kissing sensitive knuckles. “Fate.”

Her lips tipped in another
smile. Why hadn’t she met him under other circumstances? Was it
really
so
much to
ask?

Carefully, she slid her hand
out of his, hating the confused expression on his face as she did
so. “You should know that I work for the Denver Daily.”

His face paled, but he said
nothing.

“
I’m not a reporter or
anything. Just a food critic.”

Silence.

“
It wasn’t my idea to come
to your restaurant.” Like that was any excuse. “It was my editor’s.
She wanted to do a sneak peek feature around Restaurant
Week.”

Saffron watched him swallow.
The pulse she’d run her tongue over earlier beat a rapid tattoo
beneath his skin.

“
I know you value your
privacy and prefer not to deal with the media. I know your sous
chef usually steps into the limelight—”

“
I’ve never heard of you.”
His voice was flat.

“
New assistant.” Earlier she
could have kissed the woman for her newbie mistake. Now, Saffron
wanted to throttle her. “She made the reservation under my real
name instead of one of my aliases.”

August stood. “You came to
learn more about me and Restaurant Week?”

She hated this. Hated it.
“Yes.”

The longest stretch of
excruciating silence ate the air around her.

Finally, he said, “Well…tell
your readers I’ll be serving a
Gran
Madame
fondue with truffle
mushrooms,
zuppa di
fungi
, white gazpacho with Dungeness crab
salad, prime rib, risotto with caramelized onions and
fig…”

“
Wait…no. August, don’t tell
me—”

“
Chilean sea bass
en croute
and I’m still
working on dessert.”

“
August, please—”

“
Possibly a spring fruit
tart and some kind of cheesecake. A chocolate dish as well,
naturally.”

“
August,” she
whispered.

He shoved his hands through
his hair and then squeezed his eyes shut. Without warning, he
strode to the door and then walked through it, leaving Saffron
alone on the bed.

Never before now had she
ever felt more vulnerable.

Was it really so bad? Could
she really have disappointed him so deeply by her confession?
Reviewing food was her job! It wasn’t like she tortured baby
animals or threw rocks at orphaned children. She ate food and
reported back what she thought of it.

Just because he avoided all
attention like the plague and just because she betrayed his trust a
little…

Oh damn
.

How was she going to fix
it?

August stalked back into the
room. Fully dressed.

“
Why don’t you put your
clothes on?” he asked. His voice remained flat and
lifeless.

“
Wait. Shouldn’t we
talk—”

“
Get dressed, Saffron,” he
said with more force. Bitter words. “I’ll take you back to your
car.”

“
Scatter!” August overheard
Vicky hiss.

The few servers standing by
the bar hustled to different corners of the restaurant, none of
them looking in his direction.

Which was just fine by
him.

He couldn’t stand the
curious stares or the pitying glances. For Christ’s sake, even
Edmond threw him out of the kitchen, shouting to know why he was in
such a foul mood.

Just because August had
butchered over three dozen chicken carcasses mindlessly, trying to
get the taste of her from his lips and just because he’d ordered a
complete scrub down of the kitchen from top to bottom, handling the
more grueling tasks himself to erase the memory of how she’d felt
beneath him, and just because he’d give his right nut to no longer
hear the sweet echoes of her coming undone…

None of that meant he’d been
in a bad mood for the past week.

One week. Seven days since
he’d had one of the most incredible nights of his life to hours
later have it shattered into a billion fragments.
Fuck
.

He couldn’t stop thinking
about her. Couldn’t stop seeing her everywhere he
looked.

Saffron consumed his
thoughts. Every single moment of solitude and even the ones when he
was busy, yet found his mind drifting, brought him back to her. In
his mind, they’d made it. They’d found a way to make it
work.

He shook loose the
thought.

Shit. Maybe the walk-in
refrigerator needed to be reorganized. Better head over there now
to check it out. Walking through the dining room got him in this
mess in the first place. He’d simply cut it short tonight and get
back behind the line or go somewhere more useful.

Edmond could come out here
and schmooze the guests. He was done.

“
Somehow I drew the short
straw.”

Startled, he looked down at
Vicky. “What?”

“
For some reason, everyone
thinks you like me. Personally, I think you just tolerate me, but
whatever. They think you like me.”

“
I do like you.”

“
Yeah and that’s why you
assigned me to clean the grease traps?”

He grunted. Fair enough. “I
knew you’d do it right.”

She rolled her eyes. “Okay,
whatever.” From side to side she shifted on her feet before blowing
out a sigh. “Regardless, I was sent over here.”

“
By whom? And for
what?”

“
To show you
this.”

She held out a piece of
newsprint and August reached for it without thinking. The moment
his fingers touched the page, however, he recognized it for what it
would be.

Internal tremors rocketed
through him.

Fingers still clasping the
paper, he stared at her. “What is this?”

“
Read it.”

“
Vicky, I’m not in the
mood.” For some reason, he couldn’t let go of the page. He knew
what it would say. He knew what it represented, but he couldn’t get
his hand to let go of the goddamned page.

“
This wasn’t my idea. But
you’ve got half the staff tip-toeing around you and the other half
ready to piss their pants. Since you supposedly like me, supposedly
I’m least likely to get fired for this. Supposedly.”

Every heartbeat kicked
against his ribs with enough force to leave a bruise on the
outside. He wanted to look. The urge to look taunted
him.

But if he looked it would be
real. The lie would be in black and white for him and all of Denver
to see.

She’d used him. Just to find
out about food, of all things.

Vicky dropped her hand,
apparently satisfied he wouldn’t let go first. “And when you’re
done, the guest at table twenty wants to send compliments to the
chef. Since you’re out here, you might as well go over there for
yourself.”