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Marissa shrugged. “You’re a wealthy man—the wealthiest client we’ve ever worked with. Let’s just say I had my reservations.”
“You prejudged me, is that what you’re saying?” he asked in a teasing tone.
“Maybe.” She arched an eyebrow, shooting him a look that said she didn’t care what he thought.
“I’m happy that whatever terrible things you thought about me were not true.” Bruno placed the lettuce on the plates.
The timer went off, and Marissa removed the fries from the oven and watched Bruno as he grated fresh cheese over them.
“Are you going to answer my question now?” she asked.
“Oh, right. What do I not miss about working in a restaurant kitchen—was that the question?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t miss the long hours, and although the pace could be exciting, there were days when the constant pressure was intense, like jugging a bowling ball, a knife, and a flaming pan of hot grease on a unicycle.”
Marissa laughed. “That bad?”
“Yes, that bad. But mostly, I don’t miss the lack of time. I missed out on important moments over the years, such as my younger brother’s graduation party. When I have my own family, I don’t want to miss important events.”
Saying the words out loud hit him hard and reminded him that while he was successful, he had no one to share his success with. No one to come home to in the evenings. Just an empty house.
“Your future wife will appreciate that,” Marissa said.
“I hope so.”
Since the steaks had rested, Bruno sliced off a piece for a taste test. He grunted his appreciation of the delicious flavor.
“Damn, I’m good. Maldito, delicioso.”
“That good?” Marissa asked, a playful smile tugging at her lips.
Without a word, Bruno cut off a generous piece of steak. “I’ll let you be the judge. Open.”
She hesitated, obviously wanting to take the meat but unsure about the propriety of taking food from his fingers. Then, slowly, she lowered her gaze and parted her lips and allowed him to feed her the tender morsel.
Her lips brushed his fingers and for one tense moment, he felt the yank of an invisible, sensual chord. He wanted to seize her mouth and say to hell with her ethics and her hesitation. To hell with the other choices she’d downloaded from her database for him. He wanted her.
He was famished, hungry for her in a way he couldn’t remember being for another woman.
She licked her lips, and God help him, he deserved an award for the impressive restraint he summoned in the wake of that fleeting movement. A lesser man would have captured her mouth and lived out his fantasy of placing her atop the steel counter and finding out exactly how she tasted.
Their eyes met, and the rest of the world faded into obscurity.
“Delicious,” Marissa murmured, her voice oddly strained. “Tender.”
“I’m glad you like it,” Bruno said, his voice husky. “Salt and pepper, that’s all.”
He wasn’t sure how he managed to speak, with sexual tension such a palpable force between them.
“An example of those great ingredients you were talking about.”
“Good ingredients are the cornerstone of a memorable meal. They can transform a simple dish into a masterpiece.”
The air between them thickened with the weight of anticipation.
“Why did you ask me to come here tonight?” she whispered.
