Page 76 of Champagne Fizz

“Too colorful?” Becca comments, surprised. “You?” She eyes my lime-green and teal blouse and skirt.

“They’re not for me,” I remind her.

“You’re the designer.”

“True,” I agree, “but they have to fit the sexy Fuzz-me Flambé scene.”

Becca nods. “Indeed, the Devil’s den on the rooftop does ooze all things sex, chocolate, and rock n’ roll.”

“Like you,” I say, nodding to the peony and lotus tattoos that color her arms, and emphasizing the fact that Becca seems like she’d fit right in with the Flambé crowd.

“Nah, I’m sex, love, rocks and floral,” she quips back. “But I’ll admit therearequite a few tempting men at that establishment.” Becca plucks a flower with a sizeable stamen from a nearby bucket to punctuate her comment.

“Have you—?” I cut myself off. It’s none of my business.

“Arie’s boyfriend behind the bar is off limits,” Becca warns. “Tyrants be tyrants. But the rest of the staff has learned it’sgoodto be single if you work at Flambé.”

“You’re saying—?”

“The Devil’s den on the rooftop comes with perks.” Becca nods, wiggling the phallic flower at me. “Didn’t Arie’s twin sister snag a TV star by working there?”

“Maybe,” I admit, remembering Simon mentioning something about Arie’s sister attending the wedding with a celebrity. Of course, Simon didn’t give me the sordid details on how they met. But even my bride and groom seem to have a Flambé-worthy origin story that I’ve been piecing together: birthday, handcuffs, tarts. “Do you think Simon enjoys those perks?”

“He’s a guy, isn’t he?” Becca insinuates. “And those nerdy glasses don’t fool me. He’s not my type, but girl if he’s yours—” Becca swings the stamen-flower in my face and I have to bat it away.

My neck blushes, making it hard to hide the fact that I’m already involved with Simon. “Trumpet flowers, jade vine”—I point at the respective plants—“and if the bat flowers are in season, they’ll be one heck of a stunner.”

“Kendall Hart, do you have a crush on Simon?” Becca inquires, ignoring my attempt to change the subject while still managing to write down everything I just put on my order.

Crush?

I’ve orgasmed more times in that man’s presence than I’d care to admit. I don’t know if the word crush really fits the bill. Is there a technical term for a business arrangement that includes taking a 25-year-old’s virginity?

“Oh dang!” Becca laughs, obviously reading my silence as admission. “Have fun with that!” My eyes cut to Becca, not sure if she’s mocking me, but she laughs even harder. “All I’m saying is the Flambé boys seem to understand what they’re selling. And if you’re up for the ride, enjoy it. But don’t get involved. Simon does own half of the den of sin.”

“I’m not getting involved!” I squeak, which only incriminates me more.

“Weddings are all about hook-ups,” Becca says with a flirty hitch to her smile. “It seems only fair for the restauranteur and the wedding planner to have a little fun in the Devil’s den. I’ll even throw in a fewspecial flowersto remind you to have the time of your life.”

Becca winks before jotting down a few notes on my order that I can only imagine are of the large-stamen variety. Of course, that only makes me think about what was sandwiched between my legs the other afternoon.

A fun hook-up. That’s all this is between Simon and me. An arrangement that will help me get through the wedding.

My face must be hot pink because Becca’s smiling like she can tell I’ve already crossed professional lines with the sexiest accountant in Waikiki, and she approves big time.

“You’re an instigator,” I say, pointing at Becca’s wicked grin.

“Hey, you’re the one who brought up Flambé,” Becca defends.

“It’s the location of the wedding!”

“Uh-huh.”

“I don’t want to hear any more about it,” I huff. “Unless you’re going to start spilling the beans on which Flambé waiter you waived your fancy flowers at.”

Becca’s lip turns up. “You assume it’s only one.”

My mouth falls open.

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