Page 31 of The Proximity Effect

“Fine. But I mean it about the tip. Twenty percent minimum.” I was trying to maintain some semblance of professionalism even though my brain was already conjuring images of being practically naked next to him tomorrow.

“Yes, ma’am.” He gave me a mock salute that shouldn’t have been as attractive as it was, especially with that playful glint in his eyes that made me wonder if he was taking any of this seriously.

Not that I was taking it seriously either. Nope. This was purely a financial decision. The kind of savvy money management my accountant would be proud of if I convenientlyleft out certain details. Like the fact that my soon-to-be massage partner had dimples that appeared when he smiled like that.

Liam made a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a groan. “You’re both impossible.”

“Says the man who just defiled me,” I muttered, then immediately slapped my hand over my mouth. “That’s not... I should go.”

I turned and practically sprinted toward the elevators, Evan’s laughter and Liam’s deep chuckle following me all the way.

What the hell was I doing? More importantly, what the hell was I going to do tomorrow morning when I had to face Evan across massage tables?

There was absolutely nothing simple about this situation anymore.

Chapter 12

My Boob Is Acknowledgment-Worthy

Tessa

Itugged at the hem of my oversized sweatshirt as I walked into the meeting room, immediately regretting my casual choice of attire. It was oversized and soft in a way that practically screamed, “I’ve given up on real clothes today.” In my defense, they already knew I could cook, and this wasn’t exactly a formal job interview. Plus, I had a massage scheduled right after, and I wasn’t about to try wrestling myself back into business wear with my muscles all buttered up like a Thanksgiving turkey.

Still, the weight of three intense stares made me wish I’d at least put on mascara. Or a paper bag over my head. Either would have been an improvement.

“Well, don’t you look cozy.” Evan’s gaze had a playfulness that appeared to be forever ingrained in his expression. “All ready for ourmassage later?”

I watched Archer’s jaw clench so hard I worried for his dental work. The man really needed to invest in a mouth guardif he kept that up. Liam, meanwhile, suddenly found the ceiling fascinating, though I caught the slight quirk of his lips.

“Can we focus on the actual business at hand?” Archer’s tone could have frozen hell over twice. “Personal business has no place here.”

“Right.” I sat down in the empty chair, trying to channel my inner professional despite wearing what was essentially glorified pajamas. “We were going to discuss the restaurant situation...”

Archer slid a piece of paper across the table like he was sliding over a secret offer to buy my soul. “We hope you find our offer satisfactory.”

I picked it up, and my eyes nearly popped out of my head at the number written there. “That’s... generous.” And by generous, I meant absolutely bonkers. Approaching six figures bonkers.

“It’s what we paid our previous head chef.” Archer’s tone was professional, if not a bit terse. Any glimpses of playfulness I’d caught from him in the past few days were nowhere to be found.

“Speaking of which…” I set the paper down, curiosity getting the better of me as it usually did. “What exactly happened here? You had an entire kitchen staff, and now you’re down to...” I gestured vaguely at the three of them. “Three guys who can barely make pasta.”

The men exchanged looks that contained entire conversations, complete with subtitles and director’s commentary. They might have fallen out as best friends a decade ago, but there were still hints of that strong bond there.

“Hey, I can make pasta.” Evan looked offended that I’d negatively commented on his cooking… if it could even be called that.

“Boiling water doesn’t count as cooking, Ev.” Liam tried to hide his smirk and failed.

Archer pinched the bridge of his nose like he was warding off a migraine. “When we first took over, we had a full staff with a head chef, a secondary chef, and six line cooks.”

“And then?”

“And then...” Evan leaned back in his chair, balancing precariously on two legs like he wasn’t a thirty-four-year-old man who would probably need more than a massage if he fell. “Two of the line cooks quit within the first week.”

“Because...?” I prompted, sensing there was more to this story than a simple case of staff turnover.

“Because Archer tried to implement a new scheduling system, and the staff was already struggling with the death of Gavin.” Liam earned a death glare that would’ve wilted a cactus.

“It was more efficient. There were too many cooks in the kitchen, so to speak. There was staff overlap, too, where the lunch staff was working at the same time as the dinner staff.” Archer straightened his already perfectly straight tie.

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