Alpha Pack 4 - Hunters Heart (38 page)

steely pair, Mr. James. I like that.”

Something hungry, predatory, flared in his eyes and he

leaned over slightly. His voice was husky as he parried

her thrust. “Do you? That’s good, because I happen to like

a woman who knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to

grab it.”

“I’m afraid of very little,” she said, eyeing him in

appreciation and not bothering to hide it.

“And yet I sense you holding back with me.”

“I’m careful in every aspect of my life. A little common

sense is a good thing.”

“Not when it interferes with the fun of living, I think. I

guess I’ll have to make it my mission to loosen you up,

boss lady.” Her brows shot up, but he didn’t wait for a

response. “Would you like to order something?”

You. Naked on a platter with an apple in your mouth.

“What’s Ethan’s special tonight?”

“The duck over a bed of sautéed greens, with a

mushroom wine sauce drizzled on top.”

“Sounds fantastic. I’ll have that.”

“Wise choice.” The man actually winked at her and

grinned. “Ethan does get testy when the patrons don’t

follow his recommendations.”

Damn the man for having the most alluring dimple on

the left side of his mouth.

“Everything he creates is beyond compare. Our diners

can’t go wrong, no matter what they order.”

“True. I’ll let him know your choice.” He waved a hand

at her glass. “Another?”

She debated, then nodded. “I think I will.”

He laughed. “So long as you’re able to walk at the end

of the evening, that’s fine.”

She barely managed to keep her mouth from falling open

at his forwardness. If any other employee had made that

remark, she would’ve reprimanded him. When it came to

Gray, however, she couldn’t be upset when his playfulness

was edged with genuine concern. “Thanks, but I’ll be fine.

I won’t be behind the wheel and I only live five blocks

away.”

“But you could stagger in front of a tour bus,” he said

innocently. “Then who would sign my paychecks?”

As she opened her mouth to retort that he wouldn’t have

to worry about that if he was no longer working here, she

was shocked when he turned his back and simply walked

away. The arrogant bastard just left her sitting there, his

carriage and attitude screaming that he wasn’t the least bit

intimidated by her position as owner. Any of the others,

save Ethan, would bow, scrape, and stammer in her

presence. But not this man.

That damned confidence she couldn’t resist. Somehow,

in the space of a couple of weeks, the prep chef had honed

in on her weakness and filleted it like a sea bass in

Ethan’s kitchen.

The second drink and her duck were delivered with a

flourish, but with no further sign of Mr. James. It surprised

her to realize she was disappointed. That small exchange

had left her feeling more charged than she had in a while.

Almost like she’d been awakened from a deep sleep.

Her meal had never tasted better, and she wondered

whether a certain sexy prep chef had anything to do with

that. Thoughts of him replayed in her head as she ate, and

by the time she was ready to leave, she found her eyes

straying toward the doors to the kitchen. Was she really so

eager to get another glimpse of the man?
You’re the boss.

Just go in there and check on things. You don’t need an

excuse.

When she was finished, she did just that. But only

because she needed to close her office and retrieve her

purse, she told herself. Mr. James was hard at work

chopping vegetables when she walked through, and he

barely acknowledged her with a nod. There was no cocky

grin this time, no heat in his gaze. No familiarity. But then

she caught Ethan observing him and not bothering to hide

it, so that made sense. The chef was his boss as well and

was much more stern and scary than Anna. No way would

anyone in his right mind invite a tongue-lashing from

Ethan.

Grayson James, on the other hand, could give me a

tongue-lashing of a different sort. A very welcome one.

Good God! Annoyed with herself, she went through

some paperwork and studied some orders for fresh meat

and vegetables. Then she left twenty minutes later, locking

her office and passing through the kitchen without letting

her attention stray to the object of her fantasies, and took

the elevator down to the lobby.

Fatigue dragged at her as she pushed through the

revolving door, and she suddenly wished she’d called a

cab. But that was ridiculous for a mere five-block walk,

even this late at night. At least the city never really slept,

and there were cops on almost every corner this close to

Times Square.

That’s what she told herself, anyway, as the bright lights

of her restaurant’s block gave way to the lengthening

shadows of a residential area with fewer people about.

Though she was tired, her senses were on alert for any

movement. Any person who didn’t belong.

So she was jolted with terror when a hand grabbed her

arm and yanked her into an alley between two apartment

buildings. “Hey!” she yelled. “Stop!”

Another shriek was abruptly cut off by a palm clapped

over her mouth as she was pulled backward, farther into

the darkness. The hand was covered by a ragged glove

with the fingers cut out, because they were digging into her

cheek.

Every horror story she’d ever heard about women being

abducted and assaulted flashed through her mind, and she

exploded in movement, fighting him like a wildcat.

Twisting and bucking, she managed to make him lose his

grip for a moment—just long enough to sink her teeth into

the side of his hand as hard as she could through the

glove’s material.

“Ahhh! Fuck!” Jerking his hand away, he shoved her

back into the side of the nearest building, then spun her

around and pushed her face-first into the bricks before she

could glimpse his features or clothing. “Scream or bite me

again and I’ll snap your pretty neck! Got it?”

She nodded, heart slamming against her rib cage. “Wh-

what do you want? Money? It’s in my purse.”

“And where’s your purse?”

She jerked her head as much as she could in the

direction they’d come. “Over there. I dropped it.”

“Hmm. Maybe I’ll go back for that,” he said in a low

voice. “But I’m thinking the real prize is right here in my

hands. Begging for a piece of this.” As emphasis, he

ground his groin into her ass.

“Y-you don’t want to do this,” she said, breathless with

fear. “Someone will come and you’ll be caught. Just take

the money and go.”

“Nobody’s coming. Why can’t I have both?”

“People live here. You don’t want to risk jail.”

“As if guys like me care about getting sent to Club Fed.

Three squares a day, exercise, reading, and TV. Hell, I

could even study for a trade, which is more than I get on

the street.”

“Please,” she begged as his hand began to creep under

the hem of her blouse. “Don’t—”

Just then, the man’s weight vanished from her back.

Before she could register why, she heard a vicious curse

and the sounds of flesh hitting flesh. Spinning around, she

spotted two men bounce off the wall and into some

garbage cans, sending the receptacles flying and causing a

loud clatter. In the dim light, she could barely make out a

large man punching a slightly smaller man. The more

slightly built one was dressed in a hoodie, the bigger one

in jeans and a T-shirt.

She had to do something. Get help before her rescuer

got hurt.

Just as she was about to turn and run, the attacker

shoved the bigger man away from him and fled. He was

fast, booking it down the alley and skidding around the

corner. Gone, just like that. The bigger man stood under a

sliver of moonlight, chest heaving, his tense stance

suggesting that he was tempted to give chase. Instead, he

faced her and took a couple of tentative steps.

“Ma’am? Are you all right?”

His voice was so familiar, but she was badly shaken.

She could hardly think straight as she replied, “I feel

sick.”

“Here, let me help you.” Taking her gently by the hand,

he led her out of the alley, stooping to grab her purse on

the way and hand it to her.

“Thank you,” she said.

“You’re welcome.”

Tears pricked her eyes, a testament to how frightened

she’d been. She hadn’t cried in years, since she’d finally

learned to swallow being a disappointment to her mother.

Her rescuer urged her back onto the sidewalk, under a

streetlamp. Then he turned to speak but stopped, mouth

hanging open. “Anna! I mean, Miss Claire,” he corrected

himself. “My God, I can’t believe it’s you. Are you sure

you’re okay?”

“I— Mr. James,” she stammered in surprise. “Yes, I

think so.”

As if to reassure himself, he stepped close and took her

hands in his, rubbing them as though to ward off a chill.

Then he turned her a bit and inspected her from every

angle.

She gave a watery laugh. “Really, I’m fine.” Except for

the nausea, which threatened to upset her dinner.

“You don’t look fine,” he replied, eyeing her with a

concerned frown. “Just to be sure, I’m going to walk you

the rest of the way home.”

“Oh, that’s not necessary.”

He shook his head. “I insist. Which way?”

“No, I mean it’s really not necessary because I live

there.” She pointed to the building on the corner.

“You’re kidding! That’s where I live, too.” He smiled.

“Then it’s definitely no trouble at all to see you safely to

your door.”

“I don’t—”

“Please? For my peace of mind?”

He looked so handsome, so worried, that she had to

smile back. “Fine. That would be nice. Thanks.”

“First, though, we should file a report. I should’ve

thought right away of calling the police.”

She considered that, then blew out a breath. “I think

that’ll be a waste of time. I’m not hurt and he didn’t take

anything. I didn’t even get a look at him, so my input isn’t

going to help much.”

“Are you sure? They can at least have it on record.”

“No. Really, I just want to get home.”

He hesitated, then relented. “I can understand that.

Come on.”

Tucking her hand in his arm, he escorted her the rest of

the way to their building and inside. As they crossed the

spacious lobby, she briefly wondered how a lowly prep

chef could afford to live in a neighborhood like this,

where the apartments were so expensive. Then she

remembered that he’d been a hotshot attorney of some

kind, so that made sense. He’d probably socked away

plenty before changing careers.

As they stepped into the elevator, his finger hovered

over the number panel. “Which floor?”

“Six.”

He smiled again, a blinding slash of white that made her

knees a little weak. “What do you know?”

“You, too?” She blinked at him.

“Yep. I’m curious, though. How is it that the boss lady

missed the fact that I live in her building, on the same

floor?”

She shrugged. “I make it a point to memorize names and

faces because I like my employees to feel as if they matter

to me—and they do. But my manager, Jeff Wilson, does all

of the hiring paperwork and tax forms, and he collects the

employee information sheets we keep on file. If I need to

know specific information about one of you, I can look it

up.”

“I met Mr. Wilson, but I don’t see him around much,” he

mused. “He doesn’t take a very active role on the floor.”

“Because that’s not what I hired him to do. He does

most of the paperwork, ads, and marketing.”

“So you can be among the people, which is what you

enjoy most.”

“Yes.”

“And yet . . .” The elevator arrived at their floor, and

they got off.

She stopped and faced him. “What?”

“I don’t know if I should say.” His gaze settled on hers,

assessing.

“You can speak freely. You
did
just save my life.” She

grinned in encouragement.

He relaxed some. “It’s just that you seem very reserved

most of the time. Aloof. It’s interesting to hear you say that

you enjoy being around your staff and guests when you

don’t really show it.”

She stared at him in surprise. “I don’t? But . . . I speak

to people all day. I ask them how they’re doing, if their

meals are excellent, what they’re celebrating. Things like

that.”

“What about the staff?”

“What about them?” She started to feel defensive. “I ask

them if they need anything, what I can do to help them. I

inquire about any incidents that may have occurred, how

the kitchen has been running, check on the special

reservations to make sure the staff is prepared.”

“Yes, you do. You’re a good boss,” he allowed.

“Why, thank you,” she said dryly, giving him a droll