Page 35 of Sinfully Shameless Chef

She turns her head in my direction and smiles. “Oh, hi. I didn't see you there.” One of her manicured hands flits out. “I was just commenting that this is not what I expected.”

I raise an eyebrow at her. “Um, what do you mean?”

Why would she expect anything?

She waves a hand around again. “Oh, just that this isn't really the style I had pictured.”

Who is this woman, and why she picturing anything for my restaurant?

“And you are?”

“Oh.” She extends her hand to me and walks over to the table. “Sylvie Mason. I'm Grant's wife.”

“That explains it.” I roll my eyes, sigh deeply, and motion to the wall I share with Jameson. “You're in the wrong space.”

Her eyebrows fly up, and she glances around. “Am I?”

I point at the wall. “Jameson and your husband have the space next door.”

Her mouth drops open slightly. “Well, that certainly explains this.”

She motions around her absently.

What the hell is that supposed to mean?

My initial unease shifts to anger. Like I need Grant Mason’s wife here reminding me what a piece of shit my restaurant is compared to what they’re doing. “Well, if there's nothing else I can do for you…”

Her eyes fly wide. “Oh.” She presses a hand to her chest. “No, no, no! I didn't mean it like that. I love all of this.” She gestures around her again. “It's so eclectic and welcoming and homey and not at all what I imagine would come out of my husband or Jameson's heads.”

I snort and roll my eyes, unable to hold it back. “You can say that again.”

She chuckles and offers me a sympathetic look. “I take it you've had some run-ins with Grant?”

“Your husband isn't the one who has been a pain in my ass.”

This time, she drops her head back and laughs, and instead of moving toward the door and her inevitable date with my enemies next door, she points to the chair across from me. “Sounds like there's a story I need to hear.”

This woman is a total stranger, the spouse of the man who, for all intents and purposes, is going to try to ruin my business before it even gets off the ground, yet something inside me wants to open up to her for some strange reason. That’s very odd for me—letting anyone into my very private world. Yet, Sylvie seems genuine, and at this point, maybe a non-neutral party holds the insight I need.

I incline my head to the chair and lean back in mine.

She slips into the seat across from me. “So, you’re having a problem with Jameson? That doesn't surprise me. There's a reason he and my husband get along so swimmingly.”

My hands fist involuntarily on the table in front of me. “He's just so…”

A low growl comes from my lips that surprises even me while Sylvie's eyes widen.

She laughs again. “I get it; I really do. I can imagine trying to open a restaurant right next to them isn't going to make any of you friends.”

I don't know…

Jameson certainly acted like he wanted to be a lot more than friends the other night. The way he looked at me. The lingering touches. The almost kiss.

“Nor will what you did to him with the whole menu thing.”

“Shit. You know about that?”

Her tinkling laughter fills the room, and she shakes her head. “Well, I knew someone had done it, and Grant told me it was another restaurateur. I just put two and two together.”

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