Page 27 of Unforgiven in Cheshire Bay

A section of the place was tarped with polyfilm, obstructing the ocean view beyond. Likely did a better job of killing his business than I ever had. At least half the space was unusable.

However, it was lunchtime, and the place was packed. So maybe it had the opposite effect and people clamored in at all hours to eat here.

“Can I help you?” The hostess asked, blowing a section of her perfectly spiraled ringlets away from her face.

“Oh, no thanks. I’m just waiting for someone.”

She turned and swaggered away, and I continued to scan the place. Across the dining room, I spotted David, looking handsome as ever. He stopped at a table and was having a conversation with the diners, and then lowered himself to the same level as the little guy swinging his legs.

My heart warmed at the gesture.

David rose and shook the hand of the guest as he nodded, turning toward me. His face lit up with the kind of smile I’d thought I’d never have a guy give me.

He walked in my direction, stopping briefly to say hello to the other tables. “Good morning, Erin. To what do I owe this absolute pleasure?”

The way his eyes raked over me filled me with joy. I had purposely picked a top that was a little more ladylike than my typical wear, and I paired it with dark capris. I even took more than two minutes with my hair.

Francesca did not miss the effort involved and sent me on my way with a wave and a whispering ofgood luck.

“I wanted to show you a part of the artwork.” I squared my shoulders and pushed out my chest. Just a little. Not enough to be considered hardcore or anything.

“I’d love to see. Let’s go to my office.”

“Lead the way.”

That was the best view. Or at least one of them. Seeing his tight behind in those form-fitting dress pants was a huge turn-on. Maybe I could get a littlehappy-happy-joy-joyout of him before the mural was finished. Did they even call it that anymore?

We walked into the kitchen, lit up brighter than an operating room. The stainless steel stations reflected the brightness, and I was a little surprised no one was wearing sunglasses. However, as I gazed around while sticking the length of the wall, there wasn’t a mess to be found. Every flat area and countertop was dazzling, aside from the plates of food in process of being created.

One chef was lifting a lid, and with his bare fingers, pulled off a stainless steel lid and retrieved a perfect piece of lettuce which he placed on a white plate.

“Erin?”

“Oh, sorry.” I followed him over to a curving staircase.

Just beyond that was a sign stating employees must wash their hands for one minute before returning to their stations. Well, at least there was that. David obviously took cleanliness seriouslynow, as I was sure doctors and nurses scrubbed for two minutes, according to the latest Grey’s Anatomy episode.

The top of the stairwell opened to a bright office, lit up by the overhead lights similar to the kitchen’s, which overlooked the bay, with tiny windows along the floor providing a view of the dining room. To the far side, there were floor-to-ceiling windows and the kitchen spread out below with a bustling crew working on the lunch rush. He had his eye on everything from this vantage point. Definitely took the micromanaging term to a whole new level.

“Wow, this is some space.” It wasn’t huge by any stretch, maybe a couple of booths wide, but with all the surrounding windows, it appeared quite spacious.

“The windows are all one-way. I can see into the kitchen and out into the dining room if I sit here.” He sat at his desk, which was meticulous. Not a stray pen resting on the keyboard, not a lone paperclip to be seen. Pretty sure there wasn’t even a speck of dust on the monitor.

“Impressive.” But it was more than just the space, it was him too. Some of the hatred I’d had for this man was rubbing away with each minute I spent in his presence.

“You wanted to show me something?”

Did I ever. As much as I’d once fantasized about wiping away a desktop and making sweet love on top of it, it was just a pipe dream. This was reality.

I inhaled and pulled out my phone. “I wanted to show you—” Tapping on the image of one of his booth pieces, I pointed to a small detail. “This.”

He tipped his head to look closer. “Is that a butterfly?”

“It’s little.” I lifted my hand and pinched out an inch. “But after our conversations, especially the part about the transformation, I thought I’d add in a little bonus. Something maybe only you would get, but still. One of those hidden image things.”

“I love it.” He couldn’t take his eyes off the image. “There’s so much detail.”

“Not really. It was fun, and only took an hour.” It was a time killer while I waited for inspiration to hit.

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