A good three hours passed before the crowd finally began to die out, tourists and regulars filtering out to go about their business or continue touring Japantown. Exhausted, I leaned against the bar counter for a minute to catch my breath. Maybe I could even sneak into the back and grab a glass of water.
“Hey, Aika.” A familiar voice, smooth and with just the slightest hint of mischief, snagged my attention just as I was sending a couple off to their table. My pulse quickened and my nerve endings tingled as I turned to see a man saunter through the front door. He was tall and lean, close to six feet, dressed in a white chef’s coat, black jeans, and high top sneakers. He swept his wind-tossed, shaggy caramel hair out of his almond-shaped eyes and grinned at me. “Still serving the same old stuff around here, huh?”
“Better than your second-rate sushi!” Janet retorted, instantly appearing by my side. She leveled a scowl at the intruder even as she struggled not to eye the black box in his hand. “You’re not welcome here, Mr. Hayasaka.”
“Is that any way to talk to a customer?” Shota Hayasaka pressed a hand to his heart in mock offense. “I’m amazed you keep the doors open with such a rude waitress,” he said to me in a loud stage whisper.
Janet gave him the evil eye. “You’re not a real customer. You’re just a money-grubbing, second-rate chef trying to steal our business!”
I rolled my eyes. “Enough,” I said, putting a hand on Janet’s shoulder. “I don’t need the two of you clawing each other’s eyes out in front of the customers. Go do your job, Janet.”
Huffing, Janet flounced off toward the tables. Shota watched her go, an odd look in his eyes that gave me pause. I’d seen him looking at Janet like that before, and it wasn’t the way a man looked at a woman when he was attracted to her. It was more like the way you looked at someone when there was something off about them. Like their eyes were set a bit too far apart, or there was something funny about the way they walked. Except that didn’t make sense, because Janet was flawless. She got more than her fair share of male attention, and went out on dates all the time.
If only I had some of her mojo.
“Don’t you have fish to fillet?” I asked, drawing Shota’s attention back to me.
“My junior chef can stand to be away from me for a minute or two.” Shota leaned against the counter as if he had all the time in the world. He placed the box on the countertop, drawing my attention to his muscular forearm. His sleeve was rolled up to the elbow, and I caught a glimpse of a kanji tattoo on his inner wrist. “You’re a lot more interesting to look at than he is,” he teased, his dark eyes gleaming.
“If you think that bringing me lunch is going to convince me to accept your business proposal, you’re dead wrong,” I said, even as I fought to keep the blush out of my cheeks. Shota had this kind of magnetism about him—an air of carefree confidence that drew me to him like a moth to a flame. The only problem was, I was smarter than a moth. And I had no intention of going down in flames for the sake of a pretty face.
“Oh, come on, Aika.” Shota lowered his voice, leaning in a little. This close, I could smell his aftershave—something spicy with undertones of cinnamon. “We both know your life would be so much easier if you sold this place to me. My offer is more than generous; your mother will never have to work another day in her life, and you’ll be free to focus on your own future.”
I sighed, pushing away the treacherously seductive picture his words painted. The sincere concern in his tone made it hard for me to be angry with him, but I couldn’t give in. “You know my mother will never sell this place to you.” I’d already discussed it with her in the past, and she’d dug in her heels. Over my dead body, she’d said.
I had a feeling she meant that literally.
“How about lunch, then?” Shota countered. “Real lunch,” he added when I opened my mouth to make a smartass comment. “As much as I enjoy wowing you with my superior culinary talent”—he gestured to the black box on the table—“it might be a nice change of pace for us to go some place neither of us own. Neutral ground, if you will.”
I snorted. “Are you asking me out on a date or a negotiation?”
“It can’t be both?”
Typical. “I don’t have time for your games,” I said, shooing him out of the way so I could help the customers who had just walked in. “Come back when you’re serious.”
“I am serious.” Shota’s gaze bored into mine as he shifted, blocking my view of the front door. He covered my hand with his own, and a tingle shot up my arm. “I know you’re interested, Aika. You can try to hide it, but I can see it in your eyes.” His thumb skimmed over my skin, sending a tendril of heat through me. My breath hitched in my throat.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, my voice remarkably even considering I couldn’t breathe.
“Sure you do.” His eyes twinkled as he pulled away, leaving me feeling strangely bereft. “But there’s no rush. You know where to find me when you’re ready. Enjoy the food.”
He walked away, leaving me to stare after him. It took me a second to realize my eyes were glued to his tight ass—did he really have to wear such well-fitted jeans?—while the couple who had just walked in was still waiting. My face flamed, and I quickly apologized, then took care of them. God, what was wrong with me? Was I really that hard up for some action? Sure, it had been over a year since I’d last taken a man to bed, but I’d been so wrapped up with work and school it hadn’t occurred to me that I was missing anything.
My gaze fell on the black box, and my stomach chose that moment to growl. Loudly. Giving in, I flipped open the lid, then groaned at the sight of the sushi spread within. Shrimp, salmon, tuna, roe, eel, yellowtail—
“You’ve got to stop encouraging him, Aika,” Janet said, appearing at my elbow as if by magic. “Every time you eat his food instead of sending him away with it, you’re sending a message that you want more.”
“You’re one to talk!” I exclaimed as Janet snatched up three sushi rolls. She shoved them into her mouth before I could grab her wrist. “I don’t understand how you can eat so much at once,” I muttered as I watched her swallow them down. Janet had a voracious appetite and was eating constantly. She claimed she had a crazy-fast metabolism and that if she didn’t eat every hour she’d get dizzy and weak. Considering how trim her figure was, I was inclined to believe her about the metabolism part. I’d have to roll myself down the stairs every morning if I ate like she did.
“Practice,” she said, reaching for another sushi roll. I smacked her hand away, but she simply used her other one, snatching up an eel roll. “I’m going to take my break now,” she said around a mouthful of fish and rice. “Cover me for a minute, would you?”
“Sure, no problem,” I said sarcastically to her retreating back. It wasn’t as if I was the boss or anything, right? Shaking my head, I picked up one of the shrimp rolls and popped it into my mouth. My eyes nearly rolled back into my head as the flavors burst onto my tongue. As usual. So. Freaking. Good.