“Aren’t you afraid of getting salmonella?” she asked as she watched him down the raw eggs.
“The eggs are delivered fresh from a farm in Sonoma County. Their chickens are pasture-raised. The chances of salmonella are low.”
“I’ve heard of cage-free eggs, but what’s pasture-raised?”
“Cage-free doesn’t always mean the chickens get to roam in the fresh outdoors. They could still be in a cage, only it’s barn-sized. And they could still be fed a corn and soy diet.”
“Is that bad?”
“Chickens are omnivores. Like many other birds, they eat bugs.”
“Oh. That makes sense, though I never thought of chickens that way. Guess I’ll think twice next time I buy eggs with the labels ‘cage-free’ and ‘vegetarian-fed.’”
She tucked the information away. There was a lot about the food industry that could make for compelling stories.
“So how do eggs taste raw?” she asked.
“Best way to find out is to try for yourself.”
“You don’t like them cooked?”
He cracked an egg into a new glass. “I like them cooked but there are certain benefits in their raw state.”
He presented her the glass. She stared into it. The yolk stared back.
“Yogurt and granola is more my thing for breakfast...”
She wondered if he was going to make her drink the raw egg the way he made her drink green tea. To beat him to the punch, she downed the egg. She set the glass down as if she had just thrown back a shot of whiskey.
“That went down so fast, did you get a chance to taste anything?” he asked.
“Not really, but I don’t think I’m missing out.”
She saw a grin tug a corner of his mouth.
“So about my clothes,” she said, “what’s the problem with them?”
“You need better clothes to have breakfast at the Pacific Room.”
She did a double take. “I’m coming to your meeting?”
He eyed her carefully. “Any reason you shouldn’t come?”
Her pulse quickened. Sam, her mentor and editor at the San Francisco Tribune, had said she was in a unique position to provide some insight into Oakland’s mayoral race as Gordon Lee, one of the frontrunners, was Ben’s uncle. Sam had also been interested in the Oakland waterfront property that the Lee family planned to redevelop.
At first she had shared Sam’s excitement at the opportunity, and she had initially requested Sam dig into Benjamin Lee because she was worried about who she had been sold to. But Ben was nothing like Jake Whitehurst, who had initially bid on her at the Scarlet Auction.
And she had gone undercover to expose the Scarlet Auction, not cover the Lee family.
“No answer, pet?”
That last word snapped her from her thoughts. She decided she liked it better than Slut #2, Jake’s moniker for her, but she wasn’t sold on being “pet.”
She evaded his question by asking, “This is a work meeting, right? About the waterfront property in Oakland?”
“Is that a problem?” He poured two glasses of water and pushed one across the counter in her direction. “Drink.”
She raised a brow. “No green tea?”