"It's a deal." I look out into the crowd, trying to find Tyler's tall frame. I don't see him. He's either sitting at one of the many tables where people have gathered or he's tucked into a corner with someone.
The thought that it could be a woman forms an instant knot in my stomach. I try to shake it away with a remark about the weather to Maribel, but it's stuck. I don’t want it there. I can't feel that way. Tyler is my boss. He may think I'm captivating, but I'm his employee and he doesn't mix business with pleasure, as interesting as he may think I am.
"Chef Sutton." I feel a light tap on my shoulder, accompanied by a female voice. "I was hoping you'd be there."
I turn my attention and body toward her. It's the producer from the morning show. Her name slips my mind.
"I'm Barbara." She reaches a hand to Maribel. "Cadence and I met when she did a cooking segment on our show."
"This is Maribel," I interject quickly. "She works with me in the kitchen here. She's a fantastic chef."
I feel Maribel's gaze on me. I highly doubt she ever gets the recognition she deserves. She's almost fifty-years-old. She's worked hard for much of her life to gain traction in an industry that, until recently, was dominated primarily by men. I could tell that it pained her when I was chosen for the cooking segment. It was written all over her face when she congratulated me in a weak tone.
She wanted that opportunity and when she didn't get it, she tightened the armor around her. She pasted on a smile that anyone could see was as fake as the producer's breasts; one of which keeps rubbing my arm as she leans in to talk to me.
"This is where the beautiful women have gathered." Tyler walks over, dressed in a navy suit, complete with light blue shirt and tie. "You all look ravishing tonight."
I meet his gaze as he tips the glass of champagne in his hand. "Thank you, Chef."
"Thank you, Cadence," he says smoothly. "Thank you for coming."
CHAPTER 8
"I have a gift for you."
I glance over my shoulder at Tyler. He stepped away from Maribel, Barbara and I when a man wearing bright white pants and a canary yellow jacket came to talk to him. I don't know the man's name. He seems familiar, but I can't place him. It's that way when you work in this industry. You meet critics, diners and friends of other chefs all the time.
"A gift." I hand the empty glass I've been holding to one of the servers. I opted for sparkling water when it was offered. I'm not against a glass of expensive champagne when there's a need to celebrate but alcohol and these heels are too risky of a mix for me.
"It's in the back. I'd like to give it to you now."
The party hasn't slowed at all since I arrived more than an hour ago. I'm surprised that he's willing to pull himself away to give me anything, much less a gift. "Lead the way."
I follow him through the crowded restaurant, waiting patiently when he stops to chat briefly with two of his guests. He introduces me both times by my first name only.
I've never heard him address anyone in the kitchen as Chef. He covets that title, as he should. He earned it. He's the one who took the risk to open this restaurant in one of the country's most crowded and volatile markets.
He greets one of the junior chefs and two of the sous chefs when we walk into the kitchen. Their judgmental glances aren't lost on me. I don't know why I was invited tonight and they weren't.
Maybe Tyler views them as the best of the best and that's why they've been handed the task of preparing the food.
He might. I don't take it personally. I haven't had the chance to prove myself yet. I will, in time. Being in a rush comes with uncertainty. I'm planning on taking calculated risks that I know will pay off. Working tonight wouldn't have been one of them.
"This way." He reaches his hand for me and I take it in mine. I follow him through the kitchen, past the scurrying wait staff until we're in the dimly lit corridor heading toward the small office.
"What is it?" I let my curiosity speak for me. "I can't imagine what it is."
He flips the light switch when we reach the office door. He squeezes my hand faintly before he gestures to the desk with his other. "There's your gift. I picked that myself just for you."
I smile as my eyes rest on the lone, perfectly ripe, Marglobe tomato sitting on a linen napkin in the middle of the desk.
***
"This is why I became a chef." I lick my lips. "That's perfection right there. I knew it would taste just like this."
He picks up another piece of the tomato. After I scooped it into my palm we walked back into the kitchen. He reached for a small white plate and a knife before he asked if I wanted the honor. I laughed when I gestured for him to cut it.
My mouth was literally watering in anticipation. The first bite was sweet, the second even better.
"You're not having any?" I ask, my gaze shifting from the half-eaten tomato to his face.
"I was going to eat this piece, but watching you eat is even better." He slides the robust slice of tomato between my lips.