Dirty Professor

“Mmmm!” My mouth was full of wine, but I waved my hand, showing him I had something to say. “Yeah!” I pulled my phone out of my pocket and scrolled through my messages. “So, I announced I was leaving Spain and the press got a hold of it pretty quickly and within like four hours, I had all these job offers.”

Miguel glanced at my phone, one eyebrow raised. “Impressive.”

“I know, right? I didn’t really expect to get this kind of response!”

“You are a world-famous chef.”

I beamed at him, my cheeks going a little red. I knew it was true. I knew I was good and I knew my talents were worth a lot to a lot of people, but I was raised in a humble family and sometimes I still struggled when it came to taking compliments.

“Thanks!” I sang, pulling up an email.

“I have an interview with this guy tomorrow.”

Miguel took the phone and glanced at it, crossing one leg over the other. “Oh boy. You’re gonna go work for this guy?” “I’m going to go interview with him. Why?”

Miguel chuckled and handed the phone back. “That is Jamison Whittle.”

“Yeah?”

“New York’s biggest playboy millionaire.” He put on a ‘rich guy’ accent and turned his nose up just a little.

“You know him?”

“My firm has done work with some of his businesses. He owns properties all over the world and his toe dipped in several industries. I guess he’s looking to get into the restaurant game now.”

“He has no restaurant experience?”

Miguel shrugged a little and finished off his glass of wine, taking it to the kitchen. He started to put it in the sink but then set it back on the counter, pouring himself a second glass. “I’m not sure. I don’t know him personally, but I think this is going to be the first restaurant with his name on it.”

“Perfect!”

“Perfect?” He asked, settling beside me again. “I would think that would be bad news.”

“Not at all.” I sang, grinning brightly. “If he’s never run a restaurant before, then that means he has no idea what he’s doing, right? It’s like getting a slab of clay thrown in front of you. I’ll get to mold that restaurant into what I want it to be and I won’t have to spend months trying to fix whatever the last manager fucked up.”

Miguel glanced at me and then looked away. “Unless the guy running everything is just as hard headed as you.”

“I’m not hard headed.”

“Right, and the pope isn’t catholic.”

I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms over my chest. “Anyway, if he gives me any push back, I’ll just fight him on it.”

“And he’ll fight right back.”

“You’re being very negative.”

Miguel held his hands up. “Look, I’m not trying to argue with you, I just don’t want you walking into the lion’s den uninformed.”

“Well, thanks for the warning.”

“Plus, he’s a notorious womanizer, so you might want to keep your guard up?”

That was a quick transition. I glanced at Miguel and cocked my head to the side. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you’re a pretty girl and he likes pretty girls, so watch out.”

Pretty girl. I’d heard that a lot in my life. My long, jet black hair and olive skin was a gift from my grandmother who was one hundred percent native American. My emerald eyes, however, were from my dad. The stark contrast often caught people off guard. I’d never really had a problem finding lover’s and flings. Men liked my wide hips, ample ass and toned arms. I didn’t really think about my beauty often, though. I wasn’t a vain person.