Chapter 15
Inviting Marissa to the restaurant was a bad idea.
The problem wasn’t her work in the kitchen. They worked well together. As far as Bruno was concerned, they made a good team, and she followed instructions well.
The problem was that he liked her. A lot. The problem was the close quarters they had to work in.
A couple of times their arms brushed, and she laughed nervously, muttering an “Excuse me” before putting distance between them. The brushes blistered his skin, damn near making the hairs on his arms crackle like kindling. Each touch made him acutely aware of her silky softness, and he wondered what the rest of her body felt like. Was her entire body the same pleasing texture?
When the fries were in the oven, Bruno took his position in front of the stove and prepared the ribeyes, cognizant of Marissa standing nearby with her back resting against the counter, arms folded across her waist as she watched him work.
“Have you ever had a dish that didn’t perform well in one of your restaurants?” she asked.
He turned over the steaks. “Several times. It happens, no matter how much testing we do. One of the dishes I’m replacing on The Wine Cork’s menu when we reopen is the tartare. It didn’t perform well, so it’s out. According to my brother, Ignacio, few people want to eat raw meat.”
“He’s not wrong.”
“No, he’s not,” Bruno admitted. “Location is important. The dish is a hit in my restaurant in Nice, and I wrongly assumed I could make it work here, as a sort of delicacy.”
“Not so much, huh?” Marissa said, with a wrinkled nose.
“Not so much,” Bruno confirmed. He spooned melted butter from the pan onto the steaks.
“Ignacio is the one who has the friend that referred you to us, correct?”
“That’s him. He’s an actor, in town right now filming a guest role on a TV show. He enjoys working on smaller projects in between movies, and this particular show was a no-brainer since filming in Atlanta meant he could spend time with family.”
Marissa blinked, and her mouth fell open. “How did I not make the connection before? Ignacio Santana is your brother?”
Bruno chuckled. “Yes, and your reaction is the reason why he has the biggest ego of anyone in the family.” He removed the steaks from the pan and set them on a plate to rest.
“I can’t really blame him. He’s a great actor. I love his action movies, but his indie films show his range.”
“I’ll be sure to tell him how much you enjoy his indie work.” He added the romaine lettuce chunks to the same pan for searing. “He also detested a meatloaf recipe I created for my restaurant in Miami. I can’t say I blame him. The entrée wasn’t my best work and never ended up on the menu.”
“What do you miss about working in the kitchen?”
He looked at her. “Is this part of the process, to help you match me with the right woman? Or are you simply curious?”
“A little of both, but mostly curiosity.”
Bruno returned his attention to the pan. “I miss everything. The creative process of coming up with new recipes, experimenting with flavors, like a mad scientist, the energy from working in a kitchen with a group of people who are as dedicated to the frantic pace as you are.” He laughed softly. “I miss the immediate feedback from customers and the reward of seeing their faces light up when they eat something I made. The way yours did earlier.”
He would like to see other expressions on her face. Ecstasy. Satisfaction from a night of passionate lovemaking.
“What do you not miss?”
“I love it all. There’s nothing I don’t miss.” Bruno turned the wedges to let the other sides sear.
“That is a lie. Come on, you’re talking to little old me, Marissa.”
“Fine, but I’ll only answer your question if you tell me what you enjoy about your work as a matchmaker.” He slid a glance at her. She was good at getting him to open up but tended not to share as much.
“Okay,” she said slowly. “I love…” She paused, a faint smile coming to her pretty, kissable-looking lips. “I love being the one to connect people who might not have met otherwise, and knowing that I’ve helped them find companionship is very rewarding. Getting couples together, watching people fall in love and knowing I played a part in that is indescribable. Each match is unique, and listening to the recap of the dates can be fascinating at times.”
The way her face lit up, she obviously enjoyed her work. Her expression couldn’t be faked.
“Is there anything you dislike?” Bruno asked.
“Um… I hate to see people disappointed or experience heartbreak.” Her eyes clouded over, evidence of the emotional toll of watching her clients hurt. “Sometimes they get discouraged if they don’t find a match right away, which is why we set expectations up front and let clients know that finding a love match could take up to a year. The heartbreak and disappointment is worse if one person had a great time and was optimistic, but the other party was not interested at all.
“I also don’t like working with clients who have unrealistic expectations. Some of them have a ridiculous checklist and managing those expectations can be challenging—to say the least.”
“How were my expectations?” Bruno asked.
“Not bad. I was surprised.”
“Surprised? Why?”
Marissa shrugged. “You’re a wealthy man—the wealthiest client we’ve ever worked with. Let’s just say I had my reservations.”
“You prejudged me, is that what you’re saying?” he asked in a teasing tone.
“Maybe.” She arched an eyebrow, shooting him a look that said she didn’t care what he thought.
“I’m happy that whatever terrible things you thought about me were not true.” Bruno placed the lettuce on the plates.
The timer went off, and Marissa removed the fries from the oven and watched Bruno as he grated fresh cheese over them.
“Are you going to answer my question now?” she asked.
“Oh, right. What do I not miss about working in a restaurant kitchen—was that the question?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t miss the long hours, and although the pace could be exciting, there were days when the constant pressure was intense, like jugging a bowling ball, a knife, and a flaming pan of hot grease on a unicycle.”
Marissa laughed. “That bad?”
“Yes, that bad. But mostly, I don’t miss the lack of time. I missed out on important moments over the years, such as my younger brother’s graduation party. When I have my own family, I don’t want to miss important events.”
Saying the words out loud hit him hard and reminded him that while he was successful, he had no one to share his success with. No one to come home to in the evenings. Just an empty house.
“Your future wife will appreciate that,” Marissa said.
“I hope so.”
Since the steaks had rested, Bruno sliced off a piece for a taste test. He grunted his appreciation of the delicious flavor.
“Damn, I’m good. Maldito, delicioso.”
“That good?” Marissa asked, a playful smile tugging at her lips.
Without a word, Bruno cut off a generous piece of steak. “I’ll let you be the judge. Open.”
She hesitated, obviously wanting to take the meat but unsure about the propriety of taking food from his fingers. Then, slowly, she lowered her gaze and parted her lips and allowed him to feed her the tender morsel.
Her lips brushed his fingers and for one tense moment, he felt the yank of an invisible, sensual chord. He wanted to seize her mouth and say to hell with her ethics and her hesitation. To hell with the other choices she’d downloaded from her database for him. He wanted her.
He was famished, hungry for her in a way he couldn’t remember being for another woman.
She licked her lips, and God help him, he deserved an award for the impressive restraint he summoned in the wake of that fleeting movement. A lesser man would have captured her mouth and lived out his fantasy of placing her atop the steel counter and finding out exactly how she tasted.
Their eyes met, and the rest of the world faded into obscurity.
“Delicious,” Marissa murmured, her voice oddly strained. “Tender.”
“I’m glad you like it,” Bruno said, his voice husky. “Salt and pepper, that’s all.”
He wasn’t sure how he managed to speak, with sexual tension such a palpable force between them.
“An example of those great ingredients you were talking about.”
“Good ingredients are the cornerstone of a memorable meal. They can transform a simple dish into a masterpiece.”
The air between them thickened with the weight of anticipation.
“Why did you ask me to come here tonight?” she whispered.
“Why did you accept?” Bruno countered. He locked eyes with her, and when she didn’t answer, he stepped closer, testing the waters.
She didn’t retreat, but her breath hitched. Then he saw it.
Desire.
Flagrant, similar to waving a flag before a charging bull. It darkened her gorgeous brown eyes.
“Do you know what I’ve been wanting to do all night?” His gaze flickered to her lips before rising to meet hers again.
“No.” The tremor in her voice was a familiar, ancient call to the primitive, hunter male inside him.
“This.”
He closed the distance between them, his hands lifting to cradle her face as his mouth caught hers in one hot sweep. Savage satisfaction filled him.
Finally.
After weeks of keeping his distance and exercising self-control worthy of a saint. He had her in his arms. He tasted the lush softness of her lips.
Bruno pulled her close, trapping her hands against his firm chest, kissing her with a deep passion that brought her to her toes.
She moaned, rocking against him when his left hand slid over the curve of her ass and dragged her hips tighter to his. His right hand clasped the back of her neck and secured her in place so he could kiss her harder and deeper.
“Delicious,” he murmured, echoing her words about the steak.
Marissa responded, her hands sliding up to his shoulders. Her kiss-drunk eyes focused on his mouth, and they kissed again, each movement deliberate and open and hungry and ravenous.