Page 4 of Executive Benefits

“Hi, Julia. It’s great to meet you.” His hand was warm and invited a little too much heat to race up my arm. I pulled back and hoped that I wasn’t being rude by the reaction. He stepped up next to me and pointed at the restaurant. “Well? Is it salvageable?”

Although I really needed the job, I didn’t stop the “I’m not sure there’s anything I can do for you here. Everything looks amazing.” I turned away quickly, scrunching my nose up with my words, and I tried to scramble to recover. I didn’t want to talk myself out of a job.

With a quiet huff, I blew out the idea and turned back to him with a smile. “It is beautiful. Why were you thinking about rebranding, Mr. Grayson?” He was still holding my hand, and the heat from his skin to mine traveled up my arm, causing my cheeks to burn hotter.

“Call me Nick,” he said, his voice rippling down my spine.

Okay. Get a grip, Julia. Work. You are here for work.I cleared my throat and took my hand back.

I tucked my arms around my briefcase as Mr. Grayson—Nick—swept his hand to a table, and I gave him a soft smile, leading the way. I placed my bag down on one chair and Nick pulled theother chair out for me. “Thank you, Nick,” I said, surprised to have that kind of treatment. I don’t think any of the men my age knew that used to be considered polite.

I shook myself out of the next thought that came into my head and placed my chin on my palm. He smiled as he sat down and got situated.

“Well, as of noon today, this restaurant is mine.” He swept his sapphire eyes around the restaurant and they filled with a wistful look. I instantly knew how he felt about the place from how his features shifted. He shook his head, catching himself, and delivered me a charming smile. “It’s all mine. I had a business partner who made all the decorative calls, and she was the mastermind behind the fine dining experience.”

His eyes found mine, and a different type of emotion sparked in them. “That’s not me.” He huffed. “I don’t know if it ever was, so I’m happy to be rid of that side of things.”

I reached for my bag and took out a notebook and pen. I flipped the notebook open to the next blank page. I wrote out his name, the date, and the project.

“I don’t see many people using notebooks anymore to take notes,” he said.

I lifted my eyes to meet his and smiled. “I hate to disappoint you, but this will all be put into my laptop when I get back to the office.” I placed the pen down and folded my fingers over each other. “Why don’t you tell me what you do like? Did you ever find a restaurant you stepped into and thought, ‘I want a restaurant like this one day’? Or do you have an aesthetic you’ve always been drawn to?”

He chuckled and looked at his hands for longer than I was comfortable for. I wanted to ask him if he didn’t like my question or if he needed me to prompt some ideas. I opened my mouth to ask him again when his sapphire eyes turned up to mine and my words were knocked right out of my mind. Instead, I perked my brows, waiting for him to continue. “My apologies, it’s the first time that anyone has asked me what I wanted in a long time. It’s refreshing, but I’m still a little new at this.”

Well there had to be more to that story, but I was still in a business meeting and that seemed like a personal matter.

I cleared my throat. “Well, that is why you’re hiring me.” I didn't point out to him that he hadn't signed on the dotted line yet, but I had a good inclination that he would. Plus, I wanted to sound confident, and pretending I'd already landed the gig, even if I was nervous about what I said, showed moxie.

At least that’s what I told myself.

“I’d like to bring in a more homey and rustic feel. It’s what I’ve always wanted to do.” His warm smile spread wider, and any discomfort I had from presenting too bold of a statement extinguished.

“Okay,” he said. “Where do you want to start?”

“Since it seems as though you’re going for a more casual stance, I’d say the first thing to do is to change the menu, bring down the prices, and lose the all white-color scheme.”

I took a few other notes.

“I know you might think the price point should stay what it is?—”

“No, no. Actually, I fought with my ex—Er, my previous partner—about pricing for a few years,” he said, sitting up a littlestraighter. “I always thought if we lowered prices and gave out bigger portions, we’d entice a wider audience.”

He smiled, propping himself up on his elbows and folding his fingers over each other. “I guess I do get to make all the decisions now, huh?” His smile grew a little wider, and I found myself smiling with him.

“It is your restaurant now. You should probably make the decisions.”

I jumped when a plate of food was put in front of me. “This is a platter of all our appetizers for you to try,” a server said, giving a quick nod to me. His eyes flicked to Nick’s.

“Thanks, Michael,” Nick said and patted his hands on the tabletop. He pointed to the tray in front of him. “It’s really what we’re trying to get away from, but this is a sample of what we do,” he said.

“Thank you, Nick,” I said, looking at all the food. My mouth watered and I couldn’t wait to try it. I totally planned to. It would be good to know the product I was working with. “This all looks amazing. Can I see the menu?” I asked.

“Sure,” he said and slid out of the booth.

I checked over the cheese on the plate. It looked incredible and had a rustic appearance that made it look as though it were made in-house. I wrote a note down to make sure I asked him about it. He could also make money on it by selling to local grocery stores and artisan festivals.

I’d have to ask him about that. There were also a lot of ways to sell it in the restaurant besides as an appetizer.