When I’m with You (Because You Are Mine #2)(22)
Author: Beth Kery

The decision to begin a new business signaled a change was in the offing for him. It felt like a breath of fresh air flowing over the dark oppression of the past few years.

The thought of fresh air made his head turn toward the kitchen.

It was three thirty in the afternoon, the calm between the lunch and dinner bustle in the restaurant. In the distance, he heard the metallic sound of cookware and pictured Elise in the kitchen, her lovely face sober as she focused her entire attention on her culinary task. The memory of how she’d tasted when he’d spontaneously kissed her the other day sprung into his mind in vivid detail. The taste of maple syrup had lingered on her tongue, but the flavor of her—Elise—had been sweeter still.

It’d been a week since he’d caved and hired her as his interim chef, seven increasingly brutal nights since he’d come to a decision about her. He’d kept his distance with the exception of that regrettable kiss, all too aware that he must wait. She was his employee, after all.

For the time being.

He’d kept close tabs on her. All reports about her cooking from his staff and patrons had been stellar. Sharon had expressed her amazement yesterday when she’d come into his office, announcing the arrival of another chef candidate for Lucien to interview.

“Are you unhappy with Ms. Martin’s work?” Sharon had asked.

“Not at all. Should I be?”

“No, everyone is raving about her food. And she’s very pleasant to work with. Have you ever noticed everyone smiles when she’s around? There’s certainly a new pep to Evan and Javier’s stride.”

“I pay her to cook, not perk up my male employees,” he’d muttered dryly.

“It’s not just the male employees,” Sharon had continued, undeterred by his frown. It was one of the reasons he liked Sharon. She had a mind of her own. “She’s a nice change for all of us. Do you know Maryanne won tickets to the symphony but couldn’t go because of her kids?” Sharon asked him, referring to one of their waitresses, a single mother. “Elise volunteered to watch Allie and David so Maryanne could go. That meant a lot to Maryanne. It meant a lot to me, too,” Sharon added thoughtfully. “And she’s doing a marvelous job of cooking. Why do you need another chef?”

“Ms. Martin isn’t a fully qualified chef yet,” Lucien had said briskly as he cleared his desk in preparation for the interview.

“Tell that to your elated customers,” Sharon had said wryly before she left to retrieve the chef candidate.

He’d pretended to be brusque, but in truth he’d been pleased that Elise had won Sharon over as a protector. Sharon was no pushover, and all of his employees looked up to her.

Another part of him was tense, however, waiting for the other shoe to drop. A calm atmosphere and Elise did not go together.

She was a storm waiting to break.

The thought flew into his head as he opened the smoked-glass doors of Fusion and saw Elise standing in the lobby of the Noble Enterprises tower wearing her chef’s smock and talking to Francesca Arno, Ian’s lover. She was several inches shorter than Francesca, although he doubted most people would notice the inequity of the two women’s heights. Elise was so vibrant and animated, like a flickering flame. As he watched, several casual passersby turned to look at her, and not just men. Her strength of character and palpable charm had always amazed him, even when she’d been a child.

Elise’s expression shifted when she took notice of his approach, but she kept chatting amiably until he arrived by her side.

“Mr. Lenault! You know Francesca, don’t you?” she asked, pink lips curving.

“Of course I do,” he said, leaning down to give Francesca a brief kiss of greeting on the cheek.

“She just told me she’s a runner,” Elise said. “I’m going to start training with her for the Chicago Marathon.”

“You run?” Lucien asked Elise, disguising his surprise.

“Yes. I started a year ago. It’s good discipline,” she emphasized, the defiant spark in her sapphire eyes meant solely for him.

“I hadn’t realized you two had met,” he added mildly, ignoring her stab at him.

“I introduced myself last night after experiencing the ecstasy of her Essaouira chicken and strawberry crepes,” Francesca said, grinning up at him. “She’s brilliant. Ian and I asked for you at Fusion last night, but they said you weren’t in the restaurant. We had very important news to tell you.”

Francesca was always a lovely woman, but he’d never seen her look quite so radiant as she did when she lifted her left hand. Lucien laughed and gave her a heartfelt hug. He reexamined the exquisite triple-diamond platinum ring on her finger after they’d stepped back from the embrace.

“Ian is a very lucky man,” he told her sincerely. He bounced her hand teasingly. “Are you strong enough to handle such a heavy ring?”

“I’m strong enough,” Francesca told him archly, and he knew she’d precisely understood his double entendre.

He smiled, pleased yet again by Ian’s choice. “I believe you are.”

“Thank you. Ian picked it out himself,” Francesca said amusedly, her eyelids narrowing. “And if you know any different, don’t tell me.”

“He most definitely picked it out himself.”

Francesca beamed at his steadfast answer. “We’re throwing a little get-together at the penthouse Sunday night to celebrate. I hope that you’ll come. You too,” she told Elise irrepressibly.

“Oh, that’s so nice of you to ask, thank you. But . . . I don’t think I can,” Elise prevaricated, her hesitant, meek manner completely unbelievable to Lucien.

“Of course you can,” Francesca insisted. “You told me just now that you hardly know anyone in the city. You’ll love my friends Davie and Justin and Caden. . . . Well, Justin and Caden will love you, in fact, but they’re relatively harmless. And Fusion is closed on Sundays and Mondays, so I know you’re not working. Isn’t that right, Lucien? Tell her.” Francesca glanced at him for assistance. He held Elise’s gaze as he spoke.

“Of course you should go, Ms. Martin. It will do you good to make some friends in a new city.”

Elise’s eyes widened in surprise at his agreeable tone. Clearly she’d thought he’d signal for her to decline the invitation, but Francesca’s sincere request had blocked that option.

“Will you be there Monsieur Lenault?” Elise asked, eyes wide and innocent.