Page 27 of One Night Stand After Another
He pulled into the parking lot of a two-story mansion that looked like it had once been a home. The charming interior had high ceilings, crown molding, and spacious tables with white cloths. Outside seating on a wrap-around veranda and the mild May weather meant it was warm enough to eat outside after a quick stop to wash up. “This place is really cool,” she said.
“You’re really cool,” he replied, pulling her chair out and then pushing it in as she got settled.
Her cheeks turned pink. He sat beside her and leaned to feel her blush with his lips, gently kissing his way to her mouth. A polite cough made him pull away and lean back so their server could set the cheese board on the table, turn tail, and bolt.
He hoped sitting outside plus his inappropriate display would get them the worst service ever so they could be alone. “You good if we eat and run?” he asked Clara.
“As long as you don’t mean dine and dash,” she said.
“Nope, I already ordered the three-course prix fixe chef’s menu for both of us, gave them credit card info, and a tip percentage.”
“You ordered for me?” Clara leaned away from him and made a face.
“Not exactly. I didn’t order at all. I never do, in a place like this. I always go with whatever the chef recommends.” He handed her his phone. “Here’s the menu. Order anything else you want.” He bent his head and went back to nibbling her neck as she scanned the menu, glad he’d had the sense to sit beside her instead of across from her.
“Is not ordering a chef thing?” she asked.
“I guess so. I don’t want to miss any local delights I might not be aware of.”
The loud sound of a throat clearing brought his head up. So much for crappy service. The white toque was a dead giveaway. He wondered if they’d recognized his name on his credit card. It wouldn’t be the first time, but he’d hoped to fly under the radar. He didn’t want the chef trying to impress him with a long, drawn-out dinner designed to wow a New York City chef. He just wanted it fresh, hot, and fast. Or maybe just fresh and fast. Entree salads would be quicker.
“Good evening and welcome to the Inn. Can I assume you booked a room tonight or should I get one for you?” The barest gleam in her brown eyes and a tiny nostril flare betrayed the chef’s amusement.
He grinned. “We’re all set.”
“I’m so happy to hear that. Are there any allergies or food aversions that might ruin your experience tonight?”
Zane looked at Clara, who shook her head.
“No allergies,” he said. Stealthily, he slipped his hand into Clara’s lap under the table. “And I eat everything.”
He kept his eyes on the chef, blinking innocently while he did something that made Clara squirm.
The chef’s eyebrows nearly hit her toque. “How do you feel about spicy?”
“The hotter the better.” He grinned. “You, dear?”
Clara rolled her eyes at him. “I like it hot.”
“I had a feeling. I have just the menu in mind, Chef.”
Aw, damn it. They were in for it now. He’d been made. The latestTimesreview had been way over the top. Nothing to do but surrender gracefully. “Thank you, Chef. Your reviews are excellent. Since we were passing through, I didn’t want to miss it.”
“I appreciate that. I hope you enjoy your meal.” She half-turned and then made a noise that sounded like a swallowed giggle. “Dessert to go, I assume?”
“I’m sensing another five-star review on TripAdvisor coming right up,” he replied solemnly.
“Actually, I’d love an honest one.” A sunny grin transformed her formal demeanor. “Especially if you use your real name.”
With a wink, she took off for the kitchen.
“Zane! You could have traumatized her with your tacky behavior.” Clara dragged his hand from a particularly warm spot between her thighs.
“Nah, she works in a kitchen. No one behaves in kitchens.” He slung a side plate in front of Clara and loaded it with crostini, herbed goat cheese, olives, grapes, and a gooey triple crème that looked amazing. Then he made one for himself and dug in with gusto, groaning. “Oh, my God, I love cheese.”
“You’re shameless.”
“Damn right.”
