Dex smoothed his shirt and hair before flinging open the door. Her nosy ass eyes tried to survey the office behind him. He saw slight disappointment in her eyes when she didn’t see anything interesting. “What? Why are you banging on my door like a crazy person?”
She gave him a sultry look then shrugged nonchalantly. “My table is requesting to speak to my manager.”
“And the other manager is?”
“In the kitchen overseeing a VIP’s order.”
Dex folded his arms. “I don’t like surprises, what do they think you did? And don’t say ‘nothing’ like you did earlier today.”
Daniella rolled her eyes. “They think I’m not listening to them. Something about not what they ordered.” If Dex’s parents didn’t raise him better and he wasn’t scared of jail, he’d choke her. Daniella is by far his worst server. He’d initially changed her job from hostess to server, so she would be busier and have less time to ogle him, but it didn’t work. She was equally creepy.
He sighed. “Tell them I’ll be there shortly.” He closed the door, sent Cayla a text, and grabbed his notepad to head back into the Valentine’s craziness. He silently hoped the complaint was bad enough to let Daniella go.
Chapter 7
Cayla peeked around the door of Dex’s now dark office. She turned off the lights, so she could look for an escape without being detected. Once the hall was clear, she silently closed the door and scurried to the other side of the hall to appear to be coming from the restroom area. The last thing she need was a witness to her Walk of Shame, or is it called a Hoe Stroll? Either way, she was extremely aroused and felt like a terrible person.
The buzz of conversation reached her preoccupied ears as she neared the dining room. Sharply dressed couples awaited tables, and others were being directed to their seats. For the second time that night, she was blown away with the changes they’d made for Valentine’s Day. The lighting was dimmed for ambience, and soft music flowed through the restaurant’s speakers. The tables by the bar were replaced with lounge furniture so people could socialize while looking out to the beautifully lit waterways.
Subtle Valentine’s Day decorations were placed throughout. She particularly loved the table bouquets of white, red, and pink flowers. They weren’t big and bulky. The square, glass vases atop the champagne colored linen tablecloths had subtle beading and the
low profile made them compact enough to not take up much space, but the overall impact was romantic.
Cayla pulled out her phone and called her voicemail before placing her phone to her ear. “Uh huh. Okay, bye,” she said to no one as she slid into her chair. Darrin looked up from his phone and smiled. She forced one back. “Sorry, checking on my pregnant sister,” she lied.
Darrin placed a big hand on top her hers and patted it and grinned at her. “It’s okay. I took the moment to respond to a few work emails.”
All her guilt returned and shrouded her like a dark cloud. She was a tramp, a skank, a trollop, a…a…floozy! Okay, she needed to update her self-deprecating vernacular later, but the sentiment was the same. She was on a Valentine’s Day date in her favorite restaurant and instead of sampling the special menu with her date, she was sampling the owner. Sampling? Nope. She was seconds from having the main course and – with the way he was looking at her – dessert. Her skin still tingled from his touches and kisses. Her body craved him, and it scared her.
Before he’d ever spoken to her, her body reacted to his presence. The first time she saw him, he was approaching their table on Nick’s birthday. She was captivated. His dark blond hair was trimmed on the sides and the top was just long enough to make her want to touch the soft waves. His gray eyes were filled with amusement and adoration as he focused on Kalilah’s back. She liked his nose; it wasn’t too big or too small, or too straight or crooked. His lips were curved into a grin and still looked kissable.
He had moved with confidence; head held high, erect spine, his right hand in his pocket. His white linen shirt stretched across his body and clung to his muscles and his gray slacks looked like they were made exclusively to make him look good. She then understood what people meant when they said their heart stopped. He didn’t notice her watching him that day, but it felt like time slowed down and no one else mattered.
She’d felt a slight stab of jealousy when he’d wrapped his arms around Kalilah and fed her a piece of steak. She wanted him to look at her the way he’d looked at her sister. His warm greetings to the rest of the party made her feel like an outsider. His interaction with her was brief, but her hand tingled from his touch hours after he was gone; his scent stayed with her the rest of the day, and his voice was the inspiration for her solo session that night.
She’d soon buried her attraction to him because his actions had led her to believe that he had secret feelings for Kalilah. Plus, she’d always pictured herself with a black man. Cayla hated drama and did not want to be the constellation prize in some twisted love triangle. Kalilah laughed when she told her about her theory. She’d left out the part about being attracted to him.
“Dex is extremely blunt,” she’d countered. “If he wanted a woman, she would know without a doubt.”
Kalilah had waved off any argument that maybe he wasn’t that obtuse because of his brother. “No, Cayla. Trust me. When he’d pretended to be interested in me to see if I was an opportunistic slut, it didn’t feel natural. Something tells me…if Dex wants a woman, it would be undeniably obvious.”
Cayla wasn’t fully convinced. They’d seen each other in a group setting a few times; he’d poured all his attention on Kalilah and had barely spoken to her. But, proof of Kalilah’s theory slammed into her with the speed and intensity of a freight train.
Cayla arrived at The Food Lab hungry and excited on a brisk early October afternoon. She loved Dex’s food and couldn’t wait to sample the choices for the wedding menu. The warmth of the restaurant and the tantalizing smell of good food welcomed her. She shrugged off her jacket and tossed it in an empty chair. Cayla sucked down her disappointment when a quick glance confirmed that Dex was nowhere in sight. She hugged and kissed her parents and had just ordered a spiked hot white chocolate when her senses kicked in.
She developed goosebumps on her arms and her body pinged with acute awareness. She was being watched. Her eyes locked with intense gray ones, and she instantly knew his intentions. Her stomach flipped, and her pulse raced. Luckily, she’d outwardly maintained her composure. His gaze was so penetrating that she’d felt naked and vulnerable. Each pass of his eyes stripped another layer. She could almost feel the smolder.
Cayla used to think the idea of smoldering looks was stupid because actors and models overused it. Dex wasn’t trying to use it for his advantage. He probably didn’t know he was doing it, but she was well aware. He was outwardly cool and casual, but his gaze was heated. He stood across the room with his hands in the pockets of his jeans, the dampness of his hair made it look darker, and his black, long-sleeved shirt, with a white Nike logo on the left side of his muscular chest and the gray words “Just Do It” ran down his sides. The words mocked her; by the time their connection was broken, her nipples were hard, and she was aroused.
Cayla was immediately annoyed with him and his instigating ass shirt. Her reaction to him was throwing her off her life plans. She could not find her black husband if she was distracted by Dex. She’d avoided him since that day until he located her at the wedding.
“Cayla? Are you still there?” Darrin asked slightly annoyed.
“Sorry.”
She smiled and chose to ignore the practically empty plate of calamari. Missing her favorite appetizer because he ate all of it was a small penance to pay for the reason she missed it. Cayla willed herself to focus while he launched into another story about financial woes. Well, not his financial woes – he made sure she knew he was well off and financially secure. She admired a secure and ambitious man, but Darrin’s stories seemed rehearsed and boring.
Cayla tried to look over the fact that he was extremely materialistic. She loved the finer things in life, but the pull to those things were usually because of the quality not the ability to brag about the label. She liked what she liked and didn’t give a damn who made it. Granted, she adored the pink Louboutin pumps that currently rested on her feet, but she bought them for herself not validation. She hid a yawn when Janice, God bless her, showed up with their entrees.