Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 90448 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 452(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90448 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 452(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
Nevertheless, I dreamed of being able to eat here just once.
And here I am, at Lan, with the richest man in the state at my side.
Chase motioned for the host to leave and pulled out my chair for me. “So you’re just friends?”
“We’re definitely friends. I’ve known Gabe for years.” I sat down. “Thank you for pulling out my chair.”
“You’re welcome.”
Paintings of women decorated in fur adorned the walls. Single page menus lay in front of our chairs.
Gabe approached us, dressed in a white chef’s jacket with a red line in the center. The lamp’s glow cast a red hue on his milk-chocolate skin.
Gabe rubbed his hands together as he stopped next to me. “I can’t believe you’re really here.”
“Me neither.” I giggled as if I’d been tipsy.
“Did you change your hair?” Something stirred in Gabe’s eyes. Vivien always said he had a crush on me. I doubted it. She thought every guy liked me. Only I lived in reality.
I touched my now ridiculously long hair. “Yes. It’s my new look.”
“I love it. You look like a model.”
No. I look like a Rapunzel rip-off.
Chase cleared his throat.
Oh god, I forgot.
“This is my boss, Mr. Chase Stone.” I gestured to him. “We’re here on business.”
Although Chase left his laptop in the limo.
“Well, not too much business I hope.” Gabe flashed me shiny white teeth. Our high school senior class had awarded him Best Smile. He’d maintained that awesome feature through the years, but now muscles replaced bony shoulders and pure adult confidence saturated his young awkwardness.
I held my hand up in mock salute. “I promise to make sure we enjoy the meal.”
“You’d better.” Gabe nodded. “And remember what I told you I would do if you ever came to the restaurant?”
Chase raised his dark eyebrows. “What did you tell her?”
I blinked. “He swore he would execute the perfect food experience for me.”
“Yes. I did.” Gabe bowed. “All you have to say is chef’s choice and I’ll create a series of excellent dishes. My chef de cuisine gave me his approval when he realized you were coming. I’ve told him all about you of course.”
I shook my head. “Not tonight. I’m sure that’s expensive. I’ll come back another time–”
“No.” Chase waved my response away. “Give us the chef’s choice. A white wine for me and your best red for Jasmine.”
He knows I love red wine? Good guess.
“My pleasure.” Gabe bowed again and left.
Chase watched me. “So he’s never asked you out?”
“What? Gabe?” I scrunched my face in horror. “No way. We’re just really good friends from the neighborhood. We’ve managed to stay in contact because we both love food.”
“He likes you.”
“What makes you say that?”
A waiter set two glasses of wine on the table.
“It’s obvious, Jasmine.
I sampled the wine and hummed a little.
This is perfect.
Chase appeared startled. “Did you just moan?”
I cringed. “No.”
“Yes, you did. I thought I was imagining you moaning during lunch today, but you moaned then too, right?”
I cringed again. “Nope.”
His lips widened to a smile. “Your love of dining is pretty serious. Isn’t it?”
“I do tend to have orgasms in restaurants.” I covered my mouth with my hand. What the hell, Jasmine? Things were starting to get too comfortable. “I’m sorry. I mean—”
“Stop worrying about your behavior around me.” Chase sipped his wine. “Pretend I’m not your boss tonight.”
“But you are, and we do need to discuss the proposals.”
“Do you still truly believe it’s all business tonight?”
“What else would this be?” I switched my gaze from his eyes to the lit candle at the center of the table.
“This is me attempting to court you.” He set his glass down.
My response was a nervous intake of breath.
Is he seriously going to come on to me like that?
Our waiter approached the table. “Chef Gabe prepared an amuse-bouche for your delight.”
He set down two plates. Each had a tiny square of toast with a slice of foie gras, sun dried tomato, and some type of oil drizzled on top.
“You know what amuse-bouche means?” I asked after the waiter left. It was my sad attempt at changing the subject, but I thought I spied interest in Chase’s eyes.
“No. What does it mean?”
“It means mouth amuser.”
Chase directed his concentration to his plate. A grim expression spread across his face. “What’s the brown stuff?”
“Foie gras,” I said with surprise. “You’ve never heard of it?”
“I’ve seen a lot of this stuff at parties and events, but I never ate it.” He turned the plate around and analyzed the amuse-bouche some more.
“Oh, just try it. It’s usually duck or goose liver, except in order to get a high quality foie gras they force feed and fatten up the animal.”
“That’s horrible.”
“Yes. It does suck for the goose and duck, but it’s delicious.”
He pushed his plate to me. “You can have mine.”
“Absolutely not. Let’s eat it together.” I returned his plate to him and picked up my amuse-bouche.