The Billionaire Bad Boys Club(16)
Author: Emma Holly

Hayworth scraped the ramekin with his spoon, then sat back in his chair and sighed. Though the amounts she’d served were too modest to have stuffed a big man like him, he wove both hands together over his flat stomach. His eyes were shining, his smile as satisfied as any guest she’d seen.

“That was killer,” he declared.

His tone was husky, causing her to speculate how he’d sound in bed. Mesmerized, she noticed a small Celtic knot tattooed on his neck. She’d seen these sometimes on Harvard students—book boys trying to act badass. Hayworth wore his differently, his toughness maybe not put on. The possibility added a whiff of mystery to his buffed stylishness, reminding her people got inked for other reasons than showing off.

Maybe Trey Hayworth was more than a spoiled tycoon.

“So Rebecca gets the job?” Dominic broke in, the sixteen-year-old no longer able to restrain himself. “You’ll hire her to be in charge of your restaurant?”

Dominic was too excited to notice the repressive look she shot him. Thankfully, Hayworth was amused. “I believe your chef and I need to discuss that privately.”

“Shoo,” Rebecca added, giving the boy a gentle shove toward the door.

“She’s awesome,” Dominic called over his shoulder. “She only yells for really bad screw ups. All the line cooks love her.”

He was still trying to cheerlead as the door swung shut behind him.

“High praise,” Hayworth murmured, rubbing his lower lip.

“I can do this,” Rebecca said, because he seemed undecided. “I’ve done everything in restaurants, from scrubbing toilets to expediting to stocking up on wines. I know the profit margin on every plate and what it doesn’t pay to be stingy on. I’ve hired and fired and trained servers to make sure every guest walks out the door as happy as possible. I’m more than a chef, Mr. Hayworth. I’m the entire package. You’d be lucky to have me.”

“That I have no doubt of,” he said with a wry mouth twist.

He could have been suggesting a double meaning. Before she could color up, he sobered. “You’re my top candidate, Rebecca, but I have to consider this. You’ve never run a place this big before.”

Rebecca clenched her jaw. Was he going to call Titcomb? Would Wilde’s new owner trash her for the huffy way she left? Calling his handpicked chef a pompous A-hole might not have been her most brilliant career move.

“I can do it,” she repeated a smidgen more softly. “I’ve studied what TBBC is about. You want a showstopper and a place folks can be comfortable eating in. You want the food critics slavering for a chance to slam you . . . and then to go home beaming. That’s what I do, Mr. Hayworth. You won’t find anyone better suited to creating a restaurant you and your partner will be proud of.”

Hayworth rose, which she interpreted to mean the time for arguing was over. She was five foot nothing, and he towered over her. He also smelled good, like soap and sweat and some faint cologne too expensive for her to know its name. She steeled herself against its appeal. As if he felt sorry for her, he dropped one warm hand to her shoulder.

Despite the kindness of the gesture, the amount of testosterone he exuded was distracting. He rocked his sexy beard shadow like nobody’s business.

“You’re my best candidate,” he said, giving her incredibly tensed-up muscle a light squeeze. “I promise I’m taking your application seriously.”

She needed this job, not only for her pride and to rescue her crew from Wilde’s, but to continue paying Charlie and Pete’s tuition. The twins covered books and rent with work-study, but Harvard was expensive. She’d been as proud as a peacock when they got in—as if their braininess proved she’d been a good caretaker. She wasn’t sure she could bear for them to transfer somewhere cheaper.

She truly couldn’t bear it if somewhere cheaper was far away. Her little brothers were her family twice over. She already hated going home to an empty house.

She couldn’t say that of course. Trey Hayworth was a big mogul. He wouldn’t care why she needed him to hire her.

“Thank you,” she said, inclining her head stiffly. “I’ll wait to hear from you.”

~

Trey left Rebecca in the kitchen to gather her equipment. As he rode the executive elevator to the top floor, he was aware he’d treated her shabbily. That she could handle his latest project he’d established in five minutes. The woman radiated motivation, not to mention competence. The reasons he hadn’t dropped to his knees to beg her to take the job had nothing to do with her.

He thought he’d prepared himself for today. Naturally, he knew who she was. He’d recognized her name the instant her resume crossed his desk. Some might argue he should have forgotten it after all these years. Who had she been except a waitress with a nice pair and a pretty smile? There had to be thousands like her in any big city. That didn’t seem to matter. The night they’d met, the night she’d imprinted herself on his memories, was a life changing one for him.

That was the night Zane admitted he wanted them to stay together.

Trey had never regretted accepting Zane’s offer—business or otherwise. Zane might not have said the words, but Trey knew he loved him. Pursuing a girl like Rebecca would have road-blocked all the good things that came after. She wasn’t a woman he could sleep with and then let go. Trey didn’t know if it was genetics or hormones or some weird subconscious awareness. He just knew her eyes had warned him; the way his chest had tightened at her nearness. She was his thunderbolt, possibly the only woman he could fall for as hard as Zane.

With a heavy sigh, he pushed into his big office.

Zane’s office was next to his. Most days, if he heard Trey come in, he’d say hello with a friendly drumroll on their shared wall. Today he couldn’t. He was on his way to Hawaii, to visit a resort they were considering bundling into TBBC’s collection. His partner being so far away didn’t lighten Trey’s mood at all.

Zane tried not to be possessive. He liked their arrangement. At least once a month he indulged his alternate erotic interest with a female. His revolving door for dates amused Trey, but it served a purpose. Rotating women as he did, Zane avoided encouraging any particular one to believe she’d stick around. Though Trey stepped out less frequently, his methods were similar. Hardly anyone got a repeat, and nobody slept over. Other men were off limits entirely. Trey understood his partner needed to come first with him. Sharing Trey with another love of a lifetime would be a deal breaker.