He quickly turned to her and flashed a smile.
"Yes, but probably not as much as you."
Tracy wrapped her fingers around the seat belt near her shoulder and sank down into the seat with a giddy giggle.
"Probably not."
As time went on, the nervousness started to relent and gave way to a hesitant air of child-like excitement. Tracy knew that nothing was guaranteed: her restaurant, her relationship, the life that she was living. All of it could be so easily yanked out from under her by a few different people. If Gordon or Mr. Hayes had a change of heart, she knew that her dreams would go up in smoke. Still, that knowledge had been progressively pushed back into the recesses of Tracy’s mind.
Pulling up to the empty parking lot, it felt like Christmas morning.
Tracy shifted and sat up in her seat. From inside, a the light from the kitchen poured through the empty slits of the windows.
"Looks like we aren’t the first ones here." Mr. Hayes glanced around and pulled the town car into a spot near the back door. "Where is his car, though?"
"He doesn’t have a car."
Mr. Hayes scoffed, "Why wouldn’t he have a car?"
"Why would he? He’s staying at The Starmore until he gets settled and you know that they would give him a ride to China if he asked for one."
The local ritzy hotel, The Starmore was a luxury tower that rose high above the city’s bustling streets. Only the most elite businessmen stayed there, including Mr. Hayes. Tracy, on the other hand, had only ever heard about it.
Mr. Hayes chuckled, "I suppose you’re right."
The two climbed out of the car and were immediately hit by the wafting smell of bacon, garlic and simmering onions, along with many other scents like sage serving as undertones.
Tracy looked over the roof of the car. "I hope that’s coming from my restaurant."
"Well let’s go find out."
Leading the way, Tracy hurried around the front of the car and through the unlocked back door. When she stepped in, a more concentrated form of the outside smell hit her in the face. It was the most welcoming assault on her senses that she ever experienced.
"Gordon?"
The famous chef peeked his head around the corner. He had a black bandana wrapped around his head and his chiseled cheeks glistened with small beads of sweat. It was obvious that he had been working for quite some time.
They locked eyes just long enough for her to see him sizing her up. It was a look that she (and most women on the planet) knew well, though his stolen glances at her body were stealthy. Still, Tracy saw his eyes quickly taking in the feminine curves of her body, all the way up to the loose, tousled curls that she had carefully ironed in.
"Hey there! Is this the elusive Paul Hayes?"
Mr. Hayes smiled and nodded.
"Nice to meet you," the billionaire said.
"Same to you," Gordon said. "Give me just a minute?"
Tracy responded this time. "Sure. We will be around the corner."
He smiled and ducked back behind the eggshell colored column. Mr. Hayes reached out and touched Tracy’s lower back. A patch of it was exposed by a low sling of black fabric that hung just above her round ass. The whole thing hung off of her in a way that reminded Hayes of a Greek goddesses.
She spun around, feeling a sudden burst of friskiness from out of nowhere, "Yes, Mr. Hayes?"
It had been some time since she actually felt like her old self. Months, maybe.
"He’s more handsome than I was imagining."
Tracy gave up a short laugh and let her tense shoulders relax a little. After all, this might be the only time in her life where she would be sitting down with a world-renowned chef to taste what would become the menu for her restaurant, not to mention the fact that her billionaire boyfriend was there as her guest.
My restaurant, she thought to herself and looked around. The shelves, though Gordon bought a few things for their meal, were still mostly bare. Still, Tracy couldn’t help but allow herself to revel in all of it. If she tried hard enough, she could almost see the hustle and bustle of a busy Friday night; could just about hear the constant cacophony of pots, pans, dishes and foul-mouthed chefs.
"Hey," Mr. Hayes’ voice snapped her out of her daydream.
Tracy blinked a couple of times and responded, "Yeah?"
"Are you sure you’re okay?"
"Of course!" She sauntered over to him and abruptly grabbed hold of his tie, pulling him in close. "I’m actually better than okay," she whispered. Their foreheads gently landed against each other and she kissed him with a quick peck. Her fingers tightened around the strip of blue silk.
Before it could go any further, they were interrupted by Gordon clearing his throat. Tracy released Mr. Hayes and spun around on her spiky, nude-colored heels.
"Sorry," he said and wiped his brow with a small towel. "I’m about ready to start."
"Don’t apologize," Mr. Hayes answered before she could. "Is there anything that I can do?"
"Actually I was thinking that we could drag one of those tables back here. It would make this a whole lot easier and you would be able to see what is goes into the dishes."
Tracy hadn’t even considered that. It was, indeed, a long walk from to kitchen to the dining area- too long for the chef to be doing, anyway.
"Of course. That’s a great idea. Mr. Hayes," she turned back to him. "You two can handle that, right?"
"No problem."
With that, the two men walked through the swinging doors. They came back just moments later with Gordon leading the way. Each one of them had one end of the table clenched in their hands. It wasn’t an easy feat, either. The tables were made of solid mahogany that had been polished and buffed to a sparkling finish that made it hard to get a good grip.
Gordon backed through the doors, sliding his feet backwards as he went so that he didn’t trip over anything. Across from him, Mr. Hayes followed with the corner of his bottom lip clenched under his upper teeth. Both of them were visibly exerting themselves and something about it made the tender flesh on the inside of Tracy’s thighs begin to tingle.
The feeling was subtle, but seeing the two of them exerting themselves to please her gave Tracy a sudden rush of joy.
"There," Mr. Hayes sighed as the table set down with a thunk. "I’ll grab the chairs, Gordon. You go ahead and take care of the kitchen."
The chiseled chef looked over with a smirk, "I think that I can handle that."