Thrill Seeker (Sinful in Seattle)

My department was ever changing and evolving. We never worked banker’s hours so having a bistro across the street worked on a number of levels. But this week was more harried than usual. Kennedy had gotten it into her head that the lab, as well as my office, needed a makeover that was going to set me back weeks.

A glimpse of blue in my periphery dragged me out of my thoughts. Even if I didn’t get to have Georgia under me or over me, catching sight of her as she moved around the restaurant eased the tension living inside me like a virus. Nothing seemed to dissipate it.

Watching every move Georgia made was my last-ditch effort.

Dinner was exquisite as always. I finished the wine and changed over to coffee as the night grew later. Busboys and wait staff bustled around me. Georgia and her effortless ease with her clientele soothed me like a balm. Sweet and a little flirtatious with older couples, friendly and bubbling with questions for more familiar guests, and briskly efficient with junior executives who were on the make.

It was fascinating to watch.

I was usually done with my meal and out the door within an hour so I only got a taste of Georgia in hostess mode. Some would think it was an easy job, but she was part manager, part emissary, and more importantly, the face of Bellamy’s—even more so than the owner who glad-handed his way through the room twice a night.

The elder Bellamy, Edgar, wasn’t quite ready to give up the restaurant life. He knew his role and played it to perfection. Georgia looked at him like an indulgent daughter then cleaned up after him. She made sure all his promises were kept and people returned to the restaurant again and again.

I had every confidence that Georgia could run a Fortune 500 company all on her own and it only exacerbated my restlessness.

I sent off a few more emails and tucked my phone back into my pocket. I nodded to her across the room, tucked money into the leather bill holder, and stood. She gave an older gentleman a friendly pat on the shoulder and met me at the doorway to the restaurant.

“When you said you were going to stay and work, you weren’t kidding.”

I sighed. “I miss my office. If it’s not finished tomorrow, I might go mad.”

She smiled. “I have every confidence you’ll have it back.”

“Only because my sister doesn’t want me snarling at her.”

“Again?” Her eyes sparkled. “I bet ‘again’ should have been at the end of that statement.”

I smiled down at her. “Know me so well, Miss Barrows?”

Her gaze drifted down to my lips and she swiped her tongue over her own. I tamped down the need to drag her into the vestibule and tuck her into the corner where the wood paneling would hide us. To taste what she was unwittingly offering until we both couldn’t breathe and her scent was burned into my skin.

“No. I don’t think I know you that well, Mr. Chapel.”

“Max.”

Her relieved smile transformed her face back to the genial hostess. “Goodnight, Mr. Chapel.”

Dammit. “Goodnight.”

I passed the bar and nodded to the charismatic bartender who played ringleader to the active, younger set that came in for drinks. Two waitresses who could have been mine with a nod slid their arms around each other.

Both of them evidently.

Why did it have to be Georgia who turned my crank?

I shot through the door and across the street to my building. It was almost ten in the evening so the only floor lit up was mine. Between the renovations and my team, there was little sleep to be had on the eleventh floor.

Passkey in hand, I waved through the front doors and passed security with an absent nod. The elevator opened immediately after I flashed my badge. A secondary panel lit up when I stepped inside.

We were security-conscious about the technology end of Chapel Enterprise. I leaned forward for the retinal scan and the elevator glided to the eleventh floor.

My crew was working around the plastic dropcloths, tucked into bean bag chairs, and sitting on the carpet. Loyal to the end. I didn’t have to threaten in my department. Everyone wanted to be there or they were gone. Simple logistics. I wanted Chapel to be synonymous with innovation, not an evil taskmaster.

Some said I was an idiot, but none of them could deny the results.

The cubicles were all glass. There were no secrets here. My office was at the back and the pinstripe-etched design on one of the glass walls made me smile. Kennedy understood my department.

Unfortunately, she knew me far too well.