She intrigued Rory. He could see quite clearly that he rattled her cage with his brusque disposition, but she was still willing to go toe-to-toe with him. And there was no mistaking the exhilaration and heat in her expression.
All very interesting …
Rory wasn’t thrilled he’d marred her, was irritated at himself as much as he was at her for being in his way. But he was still thinking three steps ahead. Far beyond the hostess position she’d come to see him about …
He scooped up her portfolio, along with the papers and pictures that had spilled from it. Then asked her, “Mind telling me why you decided to be a tree stump in front of my swinging kitchen doors?”
Snatching the leather folder from him, she said between clenched teeth, “A couple of photos slipped out and I bent down to retrieve them. I wasn’t expecting you to come charging through those doors like a bull in a china shop.”
“Ha!” he exploded. More of an admonishment than a jest. “First lesson in a restaurant—expect the unexpected. Second lesson—know these double doors swing both ways and there’s always someone coming or going.”
He spun around, shoved through the right-side door. Went straight to the salad station, where he replated salads, doing his damnedest to banish images blazing in his mind of long, luxurious legs and full, enticing breasts. Those puckered nipples that beckoned him to peel away her clothing and tease the little buds tighter with his tongue …
Jesus, man. Get a grip. You’re not an animal.
Yet Bayli Styles certainly brought out his primal instincts.
Focus on your work, asshole. There are food critics in your dining room. Remember?
The commotion at the servers’ station had no doubt echoed out front—and in the ears of his special guests—so time was of the essence to serve them. Distract them from the shattering of china and the clattering of serving utensils behind the scenes.
But as Rory stared at the dishes before him, he had another startling revelation. Why the hell had he prepped Caesar salads? Sure, they were complementary to all meals at a steakhouse. But fuck. He had a list of more colorful, flavorful selections. So he put away the single-serving plates and reached for the sampler ones that were specific to a trio of smaller portions.
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Bayli Styles tentatively entering his domain, holding her portfolio to her ample chest.
She watched him from afar for a few moments and then took several strides toward him.
As though she’d read his thoughts earlier and now followed his every movement, keeping a mental pace with him, she said, “Very clever. An arugula, pear, and walnut salad. Field of greens with strawberries. And endive with apple crisps and Gorgonzola. Fancy, but nothing to overpower whatever the hell it is you’re cooking that smells like heaven.”
“You know your salads. Where does that come from?” It was meant to be mindless chatter, but she didn’t seem to catch on.
“Well, I’m a model, so lettuce is my best friend. But aside from that, I pretty much devour books and magazines on every topic. Including food.”
“Devour, eh?” He didn’t look up as he made quick work of the new round of salads.
“Sorry. My brain operates in silos. I compartmentalize, so when we’re discussing meals I—”
“I get it. Now, why don’t you tell me why you’d like to be a hostess at this restaurant, particularly when you have no prior experience?”
He didn’t miss the hitch in her breath at his abrupt change of subject, even though his focus was on ladling a traditional balsamic vinaigrette and a lighter white one into dressing boats.
“I enjoy working with the public, have excellent customer service skills, and I’m a fan of yours and Mr. Davila’s,” she said.
“I see.” He spared a glance her way. She was certainly polished. A quick thinker. But she wasn’t the right woman for the hostess job. He knew it innately. Having worked in restaurants since he was ten, starting with his uncle’s bistro, Rory had a lifetime of expertise tucked under his belt and could easily deduce that Bayli Styles didn’t quite grasp the intensity of restaurant work. Yes, he based that assessment primarily on the incident at the servers’ station.
Rory, Christian, and their staff had to be seasoned. And even then, there were certain things Rory wouldn’t turn a blind eye to—say, telling the governor of the state in which you operated that there was no table for him and his associates. Not recognizing him was even more unforgivable. Christ, would Liane have overlooked Michelle Obama and sent her on her merry way because the First Lady didn’t have a reservation?
There were little secrets in Rory’s world, and one of them was that a few seats were always held in reserve for VIPs who showed up on the fly.
Yet that wasn’t the main issue he had with Miss Styles.
He suspected greeting and seating diners wouldn’t challenge her. At least not beyond a week or two. Then she’d move on to something more her speed—likely a coveted modeling job, because a woman who looked like her was meant to be in front of the camera—and they’d be back to square one at Davila’s NYC, needing to interview and train someone else.
Conversely, believing she belonged in front of a camera was what solidified in his mind that there could very well be a suitable alternative with this situation. The gnawing sensation grew with every second she lingered close to him. Rory felt an intrinsic pull as her darkly stirring scent wafted under his nose, so very distinct and alluring as it competed with the aromas from the ovens, and something contradictory about her very presence captivated him.
/> Her beauty was certainly an appealing feature, but Bayli didn’t strike him as the sort who’d rely strictly on her looks to get what she wanted, to land her a job such as this. The way she watched him so intently told him she was a woman with a thirst for knowledge and a need to learn new things, see new sights. She seemed to take great interest in everything around her, and Rory found that refreshing.
He only wished Christian were here at the moment to discuss the potential of hiring Bayli for their next joint venture, which was currently in the retooling stage.