Page 33 of Second Time Around
The “uninhibited” part had surprised her the most. She thought she’d be nervous or worried about what Will thought of her, but the chemistry had burned so fast and intensely that any concerns had been consumed by the fire.
Which didn’t mean she wouldn’t second-guess everything tomorrow and the next day.
She heard water running and realized that Will must be using the galley sink to clean up. She dragged her little purse brush through the tangles of her hair and vacated the bathroom to find Will leaning over the sink as he splashed water over his face.
“All yours,” she said, feeling very naked compared to Will, who was now dressed from the waist down. She scooped her panties off the bed and tugged them on.
He straightened and finger combed his damp hair away from his face. “Maybe I could use a mirror,” he said, with a wry smile.
“Trust me, you look perfect.” She fastened her bra.
He crossed the space between them in two steps. “You looked more perfect without these.” He hooked a finger in the lace of her panties and snapped the waistband in a playful gesture before giving her bottom a quick squeeze. “Mmm, love those curves.”
“We have to go,” Kyra said, smacking his arm.
She hated the way his mouth flattened into a straight line of unhappiness. He released her, grabbed his shirt, and shut himself into the bathroom. No, the head.
Kyra dressed, checking that she still wore all the pieces of Emily’s jewelry. She searched the sleeping quarters to find a small mirror so she could do a more thorough job on her hair. When Will came out of the head, he was fully clothed and rerolling his shirtsleeves.
“You know Ceres started here,” he said, coaxing a precise fold into the shirt fabric. “I was working as a waiter at the yacht club.”
“I thought you chauffeured people to their boats.”
He looked up at her. “I did that in the morning when the boat traffic was busiest. I waited tables at night.”
“Nothing wrong with your work ethic,” Kyra said. She knew he was stalling because he didn’t want to face his family, but she wanted to hear the story. She plunked down on the bed.
“Yours either,” he said, provoking Kyra to give a wave of dismissal. “Why do you deny it? You work two jobs.”
“I suppose I don’t think of cooking at the Carver Center as a job, exactly.” Besides, she worked two jobs out of necessity, not choice. “But go on. I want to hear about the creation of Ceres.”
“The head chef at the country club, Greg Ebersole, reamed me out the first night I worked there because I screwed something up. He reamed me out the second night for another mistake. And it went on like that for about a week. Since I didn’t quit, he decided maybe I was okay. When a group of us from the club went out on my mother’s boat on our day off, he came along. I wanted to keep my job so I stocked the fridge with his favorite kind of beer.”
Will’s voice warmed as he looked into the past.
“We got pretty drunk and he started talking about this idea he had that people wanted healthy fast food. Not only that, the food sources should be organic and local. I was only a teenager but something about his passion made me pay attention, and the idea stuck with me all through college.”
“Is that why you took the business minor at Brunell?”
He nodded and sat down beside her. “I wanted to escape the law but I needed an alternative.”
He took her hand and placed it on his thigh, idly running his fingers over her knuckles. The warm pads of his fingertips brushing her skin made it hard to focus on his story.
“When I graduated and was staring the prospect of Harvard Law in its grim face, I called Greg and asked him if he wanted to partner witha know-nothing, inexperienced kid fresh out of college who happened to have some great connections.” Will shook his head in reminiscent disbelief. “I don’t know why the hell he said yes, except that all great chefs are a little crazy.”
“He said yes because you’re brilliant, hardworking, trustworthy ... and well connected.”
Will stared straight ahead, lost in the past.
“So how did you get started?” she prompted.
His lips twisted into a smile that derided his younger self. “I wanted to open ten locations all at once to make a significant splash. Greg explained that my idea was insane and whittled it down to four. So I scouted sites and raised funds while he found suppliers and worked on the menu.” Will smiled. “I remember the late-night taste tests. God, some of his recipes were bad. That was my only talent with the food: being the target customer.”
“You certainly knew that my lamb wrap was out of balance,” Kyra said.
Will snorted. “Your dog Shaq would have known that.” He flexed his fingers around Kyra’s. “We opened four Ceres at the same time. It’s a miracle the whole thing wasn’t a total fiasco.”
Kyra could picture Will dashing from one restaurant to the next, making sure everything went smoothly. “Did you still have your ponytail then?”
