Delicious (5 page)

splashed with accents of burgundy and chocolate. The open space held an

expectant air, as if waiting for guests. Chairs and crisply draped tables

abounded, a few outfitted with china, linen napkins, and crystal so she

could see the effect. The understated lettering on the foyer wall read

BONHEUR, and the sight filled her with anxious pride every time she came

here.

Out of the corner of her eye, she cast a glance Luc‟s way. Arms

crossed over his chest, he scanned the restaurant, his gaze assessing. Her

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Shayla Black

heart beat faster as she waited for his response. It made no sense, wanting

his approval so badly . . . but that didn‟t stop her anxiety.

“Well?” she breathed.

“Bonheur,” he murmured. “That‟s French for „happiness.‟ ”

“I thought it was fitting. Patrons should be happy here.”
And I pray

owning makes
me
happy, too
.

“I like it. Fine dining for large parties? Couples?”

“Either. Both.”

He glanced out across the tables again. “If you‟re hoping to be a hot

spot for romantic dining, you have too many tables for parties of four to

eight, particularly in your cozy corners. The partition between the bar and

the dining room . . .” He pointed halfway across the room to the half wall

that separated the eating patrons from the merely drinking ones. “It‟s too

short and too close to the bar. It will be hard to get any ambiance if people

laughing, smoking, and drinking a lot are visible from the dining room.

Raise that to the ceiling. Do you have vents to push the smoke back to the

bar?”

She‟d debated that, hating to close off the room. But he was right.

“There‟s no smoking at all.”

He hesitated. “Even in the bar? That will cost you money.”

“It‟s worth it. I want to make my money from the bar because people

are ordering drinks with their food or while waiting for their table, not

because they‟re skipping dinner and loitering over a scotch, hoping to find a

date for the night. I‟ve got one bar; I don‟t need another.”

Luc nodded, but didn‟t react otherwise. She made a mental note to

drag more of the smaller tables out of storage and call her contractor to fix

the wall in the morning.

“Where‟s the kitchen?” he asked.

Biting her lip, she led the way around a corner, flipping on more lights.

Teasing and seduction, she understood. The restaurant business . . . That

was his area of expertise, and now he was all button-down assurance.

Alyssa was grateful for it. She‟d tried hard to make Bonheur‟s kitchen

optimal, a place a chef of Luc‟s caliber would be proud to cook in.

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Shayla Black

Winding down the hall, she was conscious of Luc‟s eyes on her. His

gaze brushed her shoulders, hugged the curve of her waist, lingered on her

ass. She could feel the burn.

“The kitchen isn‟t visible from the dining room. Good layout.”

When they reached the large, mostly stainless steel room, she flipped

on the lights. “I‟ve heard people don‟t like seeing the kitchen when they

eat.”

Again, Luc crossed his arms over his chest, looking from one end of

the room to the other, nodding slowly. “Very nice. Butcher-block prep area

is well placed and large. Twelve-burner stove. Gas?”

“Of course.”

His approval showed on his face, warming her. “A fair number of

industrial ovens. Four sinks. Good placement of utensils along the walls.

Warmers?”

Alyssa pointed to shelved space under the counters and another at the

pass, where plates would be assembled.

“Good. You‟ve got plenty of refrigeration space.” He glanced around

another corner and opened the door. “Great freezer. Ample storage.”

“You can never have too much.” She smiled.

“Hmm.” He looked as if he was fighting the urge to smile back. “What

sort of flooring is this?” He stomped a boot on the surface.

“Cork. Never slippery, easy to sweep or replace, and provides natural

cushion for everyone‟s feet.”

He finally turned to stare at her, the fact that he was impressed

warming his features. “You planned all this by yourself ?”

“Mostly. A bit of help from my contractor. Sexy Sirens has a few

customers in the restaurant business, and I asked their advice. The rest . . .

I did my homework. I wanted everything to be right.”

Something on his face changed, closed. His body tensed as his dark

gaze skittered away. “You succeeded.”

Damn!
What had caused the warmth on his face to chill? The mention

of Sexy Sirens? Deke had told her once that she wasn‟t Luc‟s type because

he was looking for a
lady
. Did his avoidance mean he saw her as one small

step up from a whore?

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Shayla Black

She raised her chin. Alyssa knew men. Even if Luc was loath to admit

that she was his type, she knew she made his dick twitch. It was a start.

Now he was all business again. “What time can you have the staff

here tomorrow?”

“Noon work for you?”

“Perfect.” He turned away.

“You‟ve already approved the menus. Anything else you need to see

tonight?” She gripped the keys in her hand, wondering how to recover the

mood they‟d shared just minutes ago.

Patience,
she warned herself.
Stick to the plan
. The night was still young.

LUC followed Alyssa to the restaurant‟s empty parking lot. The ample

lighting would make patrons feel secure. However, the illumination pissed

him off because he could see every sway of her enticing hips as she

sashayed to her car. It made him hard. Again.

He‟d driven his SUV from the strip club, mostly so he didn‟t have to

shut himself in a confined space with her, even for three blocks. He didn‟t

think he could be responsible for his actions for even that long. In

Bonheur‟s kitchen, the thought of laying her across one of those gleaming

stainless steel counters and fucking her senseless gripped him by the

throat. He should thank her for bringing up Sexy Sirens and the favors

she‟d likely had to give her loyal customers to obtain their advice. The

thought made him grit his teeth and his dinner churn. His temper soar.

Alyssa was a stripper, for fuck‟s sake. Not the sort of woman who went

without sex for two years. He‟d been an idiot to believe that when she‟d

whispered the trembling lie as he‟d tumbled her into bed three months ago.

She was in the business of leading men around by their dicks. And she was

good at it. He couldn‟t be angry with her for being herself; she‟d never

pretended to be anything different. But he could—and should—be furious

with himself for caring.

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Shayla Black

Despite the lot being completely empty, he‟d parked three spots from

her. As he pressed his key fob to unlock the driver‟s door, he watched her

do the same with her black sports car. Luc fisted his hands. She‟d go home

now, lose that little black skirt, white tank, red bra, and fuck-me shoes.

Even though she played no part in the future he craved, he itched to follow

her home . . . help her out of every garment, sink down into that perfect,

tight body.

He swallowed.
Keep your dick in your pants. Cook, shut up, and get

the hell out of Lafayette. Seven days. Think you can find some self-control?

A feminine shriek zipped across the lot, shattering his thoughts.

Alyssa.

Luc‟s heart stuttered, and he nearly leapt over his car as he rushed

across the asphalt. She backed away—right into his chest. He steadied

her, palms cupping her bare shoulders.

“What is it?” he demanded.

Alyssa drew in a shuddering breath. “Bastards!”

Before he could ask her who or what she meant, she reached into the

interior and yanked on something. A moment later, she produced a long,

serrated knife with a piece of paper attached. Under the streetlamps, it

gleamed the word WHORE in bright red lipstick.

Shock crested, then quickly morphed into molten fury. It was ironic;

he‟d been thinking something similar only moments ago. But he would

never have said it aloud, much less stabbed it to the front seat of her

convertible.

“Who would do this to you?” His voice vibrated with rage.

She tossed the knife into her front seat and cast him a wary stare over

her shoulder. “Who knows?”

Luc turned her to face him and clenched his jaw. “Who. Did. This. To.

You?”

His tone took her aback. “Look, it‟s not new. Shit happens all the time.”

All the time?
That only infuriated him more. Luc drew her closer as a

thunderous frown stole across his face. She wasn‟t afraid, and he was

scared as hell for her. “What have the police said in the past?”

“Police?” She shook her head. “This is just . . . a prank or a pissed-off

customer who thought I didn‟t pay enough attention to him, most likely.”

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Shayla Black

And whoever did this could also be dead serious. That blade was no

laughing matter. “What if someone really sick wants to hurt you? How long

has it been going on?”

“Like I said, it happens. It‟s been a while but—”

“Get in my car.” He was done allowing her to stand like a convenient

target in a shadowy parking lot. He didn‟t provide personal security detail

like his cousin Deke, but he‟d spent enough time with the man and his

business partner, Jack Cole, to know that remaining out in the open could

be deadly.

“What?” She looked incredulous. “I‟m not leaving my car here.”

“I‟m driving you home. You‟re calling the police and reporting the crime

so they can investigate.”

Alyssa hesitated, then softened. “Luc. Your concern is really sweet,

but—”

“Get in the fucking car.”

She blanched, and he cursed under his breath. He needed to get

control of his temper. But the soaring sexual frustration, coupled with his

alarm, had him on edge. Who thought they had the right to malign and

scare her? Fists curled, Luc craved a chance to pound the asshole.

Alyssa sighed, and Luc readied his next argument, but she strolled

toward his SUV. “Fine.”

He opened the door for her and watched her slide inside, the strands

of her platinum hair settling over her shoulders. She looked somewhere

between placid and reserved, despite the fact that she‟d just been

threatened. Was she out of her mind?

Shaking his head, he dashed around to the driver‟s seat. When he slid

inside, she was already on the phone.

“Sorry it‟s late, Remy. I thought maybe I should call y‟all. Someone

messed with my car . . .”

Quickly and unemotionally, she relayed their location and the event.

Luc heard murmurs of the other man‟s conversation, his tone more goodol‟-boy than concerned, and he frowned. Didn‟t anyone take this seriously?

He grabbed the phone from her and spit out an introduction. “Dust for

prints. She touched the weapon, but you may find other sets on the handle.

Whoever did this
broke
into her car.”

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Shayla Black

“Doubt it was much more than a prank. Boys down here get a little

rowdy from time to time—”

“And stab the word „whore‟ into her seat? That‟s funny how?” Remy

cleared his throat. “It‟s not. But I don‟t think no one meant no harm.”

Luc gritted his teeth together. “Do you usually solve all your cases

before you visit the crime scene?”

Finally, Remy got serious. “I‟ll investigate.”

“Thoroughly.”

Alyssa grabbed the phone. “Thanks, honey. I appreciate it.”

When he ended the call, Luc could barely unclench his jaw as he sped

away from the parking lot. “Honey? The man didn‟t even want to

investigate, and you call him „honey‟?”

She shrugged. “It‟s a Louisiana thing. You‟ll catch more flies with

honey than vinegar.”

“Yeah?” he challenged. “Or is it a „he‟s-my-customer‟ thing. Did he

watch you strip tonight?”

She swallowed. “I asked all the local enforcement to come, including

the sheriff. Keeps down the possibility of rowdies getting out of control and

trashing the club.”

Luc gripped the wheel tighter as he peeled out of the parking lot. “So

that‟s a yes.”

Fighting the urge to hit something in an unusual show of temper, he