Page 22 of Under His Touch

I worked to hide my arousal and keep things casual as we did laps, had breakfast and finished the questionnaire. I’m not sure I pulled it off, though. After the round of sex we had, you’d think I’d be sated, gotten her out of my system, but it only made me want her more. How I’m going to get through this and keep my hands to myself is beyond me. She made it clear what we did can’t happen again, and I have to agree with her.

I glance at my phone again and check the time. I have a late afternoon meeting, but I need a breath of fresh air before sitting down with the board and hashing out the details on the next deal. My job looks harsh in the eyes of most, I can understand that. We finance investors who buy undervalued assets in companies. Once they secure controlling shares they restructure, changing leadership and management. People frown at what I do, some call me a monster, but I’m good at it—and it’s a sure way for me to carve my own way in this world, which is important to me. What they don’t know is I always make sure to help those who lose their jobs. Granddad owns half of Manhattan, and with the charity I run, we’re always in need of new blood and top management expertise.

I push from my chair and take the elevator down to the main floor. I make my way to my Tesla, press the fob and climb in. Before I realize what I’m doing or where I’m even going, I find myself driving along Ninth Avenue through Hell’s Kitchen looking for Kitchen Door Catering.

I slow my vehicle to glance at the storefronts, and a chorus of cars honk from behind. I simply flip them all the finger and pull over to check my GPS. I punch in the name and a second later I’m given directions to the business. I pull back into traffic and follow the route until I’m outside the industrial-looking brick building. I kill the ignition and step out into the warm sunshine and make my way down the busy sidewalk. Delicious scents of ginger and spices reach my nostrils as I enter the shop, and a little bell over the door jingles to announce my presence. Behind the counter, Megan’s friend Amanda glances up, and behind her glasses, her brown eyes go wide when she sees me.

“Alec,” she says, and wipes her hands on her apron.

“Nice to see you again, Amanda. I never got a chance to say hello at the coffee shop but Megan told me about your catering business.”

I quickly catalog the space. The front of the shop has fridges and freezers with take-out food, and behind Amanda there is a wide-open space with three big butcher-block tables, where numerous chefs are working away.

She takes her glasses off and sets them on the counter. “Do you have an event you need catered?” she asks, her eyes wide and hopeful.

“No, but when I do I’ll be sure to keep you in mind. Megan also mentioned you do personalized meal delivery. That’s something I’m definitely interested in.” That brings a big smile to her face. “Speaking of Megan, is she around?” I ask.

She jerks her thumb over her shoulder. “She’s in her office. I’ll get her for you. In the meantime, why don’t you look this over.” She hands me a colorful brochure, picks up her phone and presses a button. She turns her back to me, preventing me from h

earing her conversation, and I walk over to the fridge to check out today’s specials.

I’ve never really seen an innovative business quite like this. Not only do they cater events, they make extras and sell it fresh daily. Behind me the door jingles and in walks a woman with four small children, three boys and one girl. They run straight for the cupcake display as Amanda greets the woman, then glances at me quickly. “She’ll be right out.”

As the kids pick out what cupcake they want, I grin, and think back to my own childhood. How many times did Granddad take me and Will, and our cousins Tate and Brianna, out for treats. The man was a saint and had so much patience with us. Is it any wonder each of us would do anything for him—even get married? Although I still can’t quite believe I agreed to it. Must have been all the brandy he used to loosen me up. I must remember to ask him why he hired Megan, or how he even knew she ran an event business. Then again, even at ninety he keeps his ear to the ground.

“Hey,” Megan says as she comes around the counter, her hair a tumbled mess, like she’s been running her fingers through it. “What brings you here?”

“I thought I’d check out Amanda’s kitchen.” I wave my hand around the place. “The idea of fresh, healthy home-delivered meals sure would make my life easier.” Not a lie. I rub my gut. “Eating out is beginning to take its toll.”

“You probably could lay off the doughnuts,” she says with a grin. “And stop fishing for compliments.” I laugh at that, and she adds, “I’m glad you’re here. I was going to text you. It’s been a crazy week, and I should have reached out earlier, but I had a last-minute emergency with the Bar Mitzvah venue. A pipe broke in the yacht club, and I had to scramble to find a new location.”

I dip my head and try not to stare at her mouth. “If you ever run into that again, just give me a shout.”

“Really?”

“Granddad owns numerous properties that I oversee, and we’d be happy to help you out. Pick up the phone and call me before you take it out on your hair.” Her eyes go wide for a second, and then she laughs and finger combs her curls. “I see you never lost the habit of running your fingers through your hair when you’re stressed. Remember after exams—”

“Oh, my God, don’t remind me. I always came away looking like a sheepdog who went through the dryer without a static sheet.”

I laugh out loud. “You were adorable.” I glance over her shoulder to see Amanda watching us. “Anyway,” I say, and clear my throat, returning to professional mode and getting back down to business. Why does being around her make me forget to keep my guard up? “You were going to text me?”

She pokes my chest and I wish she hadn’t. That innocent touch makes me want to pull her into my arms, and kiss the smudged lipstick from her lush mouth. “You have a date tonight, Alec.”

While one part of me is happy to get the ball rolling and get this over with, the other part is dreading the idea of picking out a wife. Even if I wanted to back out now—run as far away as possible despite what it could do for my image and career, not to mention pleasing Granddad—I can’t. Megan has a lot riding on this, and I can only assume her friend does, too, since she’ll be catering my wedding, and getting her food in the hands of some very prominent members of society.

“You found me someone who fits the criteria?”

“Yes. Her name is Danielle. She’s an elementary school teacher and she sounds perfect. I made a reservation for seven at Il Mercato. Italian is her favorite. I want to go over some things we talked about so you’re up to speed when you meet her.”

I gesture with a nod to the door. “Sounds like a good plan. Should we do it over lunch or have you eaten?”

“Lunch is perfect. We can eat in my office where we’ll have privacy. How about ginger squash soup, and roasted chicken sandwiches?” She breathes in deep and when she does her chest expands, and behind her silky white blouse, her nipples reach out and taunt me. “It’s been cooking all morning and I’m dying to have some.”

“We can eat here?”

“Sure. Come on.” She glances at her friend. “Amanda, I’m going to grab two bowls of soup and two sandwiches. Put it on my tab,” she says. Amanda rolls her eyes at us. I step around the counter, and my gaze travels the length of Megan as I follow her into the kitchen. She’s dressed in a curve-hugging skirt that shows off her long, shapely legs and high heels I want her to keep on in bed the next time I put my face between her thighs. Shit, what am I saying? There isn’t going to be a next time.

I pull myself together as Megan introduces me to the staff. After an exchange of pleasantries, she goes up on her toes, stretching her hands over her head to pull two bowls from the shelf.

---