Chapter 19
“We just got word. Congratulations, Bruno. You have three James Beard nominations!” Kristopher Thomas, the platinum-haired head of Bruno’s public relations, made the announcement from New York via video conference.
Bruno sat at the rectangular table in his corporate office, centrally located in Midtown Atlanta.
“Don’t keep us in suspense. Which categories?” Lang Draper asked.
He’d been Bruno’s agent for years, negotiating a licensing deal for a line of cookware and utensils, a publishing deal for five bestselling cookbooks, landed him an executive producer credit on several cooking shows, and helped him acquire other lucrative endorsements.
“Patience,” Kristopher said, enjoying keeping them in suspense.
Valerie Knowles, Bruno’s business manager, pursed her lips. In her sixties with a graying bob and silver spectacles, she was a humorless type of person and had come on board within the past two years. Involved in all aspects of his business, she mostly presided over his ownership in a vodka brand, oversaw his partnerships with family in other investments, and presided over Santana Kitchens—his restaurant group under Santana Foods—which invested in other restaurants.
Thanks to this small team and other staff, he’d been able to cut back on the time he spent working on business matters.
“Today, Kristopher,” Bruno said.
The James Beard Awards celebrated excellence in the restaurant industry and included awards for media, leadership, and chef and restaurants. Being nominated was a prestigious honor.
“All right, all right. Here are the categories. Garlique was nominated for Outstanding Restaurant. You were nominated for Outstanding Restaurateur, and Oasis was nominated for Best New Restaurant.”
“Wow,” Lang said, looking impressed.
“Congratulations.” Valerie squeezed his wrist.
All three members of his team clapped.
Bruno was pleasantly surprised. He’d been nominated for Outstanding Restaurateur last year and lost, but this year he’d earned three nominations. Having Oasis—his newest venture in Las Vegas on the list—was especially satisfying. None of his other restaurants had been nominated in that category, and he’d been more hands on with that project than any other, moving to Vegas for months to make sure every detail of the decor and the food was up to his rigid standards. His hard work had paid off in an unexpected way.
“How do you plan to celebrate?” Lang asked.
“Good question, I?—”
A knock sounded on the door, and his executive assistant poked in her head. “Bruno, there’s a Ms. Liburd here to see you. She doesn’t have an appointment, and she said she’s willing to wait. What should I tell her?”
Marissa. His brain immediately conjured soft curves and scented skin.
“Give me a few minutes, then you can send her in.”
She nodded and ducked out.
“Well, I’m afraid we’ll have to wrap up this meeting, and I’ll think about how we should celebrate. Did we cover everything?” Bruno asked.
Valerie closed her portfolio. “You’re sure you want them to lower the price point on the products? They’re not going to be happy.”
“I am.”
Saying the manufacturer wouldn’t be happy was an understatement. They’d already balked at his requests up to this point, and now he wanted to lower the price, all thanks to his conversation with Marissa the other night. That meant the deal would stall yet again, but she’d made him reconsider the goal of the products and push for more moderate pricing. He presented the same argument she had. Quality, healthy food should not be out of reach for the average consumer.
“If they don’t agree, we’ll find someone who does,” he said.
“Lang and I will address the changes with them and talk to the attorneys about the other revisions to the contract that you requested. Hopefully, we’ll have a draft for you in another week or two.”
“Kristopher, when will you be able to issue a statement about the nominations?” Bruno asked.
“Tomorrow morning at the latest. You want the wording to be similar to last year’s?”
“Yes, and I don’t need to see the text. You know what to do. Anything else?” Bruno looked around the table.
When none of them said a word, he stood and the two at the table followed suit.
After saying goodbye, Kristopher disappeared from the computer screen and Lang and Valerie headed out the door.
Moments later, his executive assistant knocked and led Marissa into the office. Bruno sat on his desk, arms crossed, taking in her appearance. She was once again dressed modestly in a long-sleeved silk blouse, but cream slacks this time. Her hair was in its signature bun, her black glasses perched on her nose.
“Hello,” she said quietly.
“Hello, it’s good to see you. How is Theo?”
“Doing well and back to himself. His father had a stern talk with him. I’m hopeful the conversation will make a difference, and he’ll behave himself from now on, but I doubt it.” She shook her head and emitted a short laugh.
“I don’t know your son very well, but I’m aware that eight-year-olds cannot be reasoned with.”
“No, they can’t. I, ah, came by because I thought we should talk.”
“About what?”
“About what happened between us at your restaurant.”
“The kiss?”
“Yes, the kiss and other matters.” She appeared decidedly uncomfortable, but she held his gaze.
He kept his gaze steady too but didn’t speak, allowing her to lead the conversation.
“The kiss shouldn’t have happened, and I regret my lapse in judgment.”
“Are you apologizing?” Bruno asked, surprised.
“Yes, I am.”
“I initiated the contact,” he reminded her.
“I could have refused.”
“That would have been difficult. Most women find me irresistible.”
She stared at him, a pencil-thin frown marring her forehead, then her features softened when she realized he was joking. “That might be true, but I have self-control, and I’m the professional in this scenario. I should have exercised more restraint.”
“Did you come here to fire me as a client?” Bruno asked.
“No.”
Something about the way she answered the question gave him pause. “Did you already try to get rid of me?”
She took a deep breath. “I admit I talked to the CEO, Arnie, about assigning you to someone else at the company.”
“My ego is a bit bruised. I’ve never had a woman want to get rid of me this much.”
“My decision has nothing to do with you personally, but as I explained the situation?—”
“Yes, I know, your personal ethics won’t allow you to get involved with a client.”
“My decision not to get involved with you is not only a personal one. It’s company policy. We’re not allowed to date clients because it’s a conflict.”
“You’re not a judge, you’re a damn matchmaker,” Bruno said.
“A matchmaker who needs her job and can’t risk losing it because of some rich man’s whim.”
He arched an eyebrow.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. You meant what you said. Do you talk to all your clients this way or just me?”
“Just you,” she admitted.
Bruno couldn’t help but smile, and she smiled back.
“Just so you know, firing me won’t work, either. Employees with Executive Match are required to sign a non-compete clause, which includes a paragraph stating that for at least a year after a client leaves, we’re not allowed to get involved with them.”
“I assume the company will sue you if that happens?”
“Yes. So you see, keeping our relationship platonic and limited to work is best.”
“I have to admit that I’m disappointed, Marissa. I’m very much attracted to you, but I don’t want to cause any problems for you.”
Relief flooded her face. “Thank you for understanding.”
“I don’t understand, but I respect your decision. I certainly don’t want to make your job more difficult by pursuing you. However, if I had my way…”
As he let the words trail off, his gaze swept her from head to toe.
If he had his way, he would unravel her bun and sink his fingers into her hair. He would lay her across his desk and feast on her naked body, taking his time to explore every inch. Then he would slide between her open legs and thrust inside her until she bucked against him with abandon. He had no doubt that heaven awaited him between those lovely thighs.
Bruno shut down his erotic thoughts and forced the fantasy to end.
“Understood.” Marissa inhaled and released a deep breath. “Now that we’re clear on the boundaries, I’ll arrange additional dates for you. I’ll also check with my colleagues. One of them might know of a woman who fits everything you’re looking for.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
As Marissa left, Bruno watched her walk away, the swell of her bottom perfectly cupped by the fabric of her slacks. His memory flashed to the night at his restaurant, and he curled his fingers into his palm at the way her bottom had felt in his hands—cushiony and soft as he squeezed her to him.
He thought about her last words before she said goodbye. One of them might know of a woman who fits everything you’re looking for.
He was starting to think he had already found her.