Welcome everyone, especially those of you who’ve come over from Marc Stevens’s blog. I’ll give you a moment to cool off since he writes hot erotica…
I’m very excited to be joining the hop after a long hiatus. This week’s challenge is from my friend S.C. Mitchell. The assignment is to write a little flash-fiction to get folks in the mood for Valentine’s Day. Honestly, I may have to hand in my romance badge, I’m not a huge fan of Valentine’s Day. Or, more exactly, I’m not a fan of Valentine’s Day dates. So, here’s my take on a anti-Valentines Day. I hope you enjoy!
Annalise lifted her thick curls off her neck and held them in her hands hoping it would help her cool off after a long shift.
“Good–night, thanks again,” she called out to a departing couple. Annaliese let her hair fall and then picked up a credit card slip from the bar and smiled at the tip.
“Yeah, you and the food were the best thing about this Valentine’s,” the man said, pausing and then walking closer to the bar as his date high–tailed it to the door.
Annalise glanced after the woman hoping the guy followed soon. Once he and his bad date were gone, dinner service was officially over.
“Well, thanks,” she said. “And, sorry you had to wait so long for a table to open up.”
“The drinks you poured more than made up for it.” He was handsome in a silver–fox way, well dressed and he clearly still worked out. “You don’t seem like a bartender. Let me guess, you go to UC Santa Barbara?”
“Good guess,” Annaliese said with a smile she hoped didn’t look as fake as it felt. She had this same conversation several times every shift. At least this guy was nice about it.
Most of the lights in the restaurant went out without warning.
The customer buttoned his suit jacket. “Well, you may be a starving student, but at least you were smart enough to work at the best restaurant in town. The food was worth the wait.” He glanced toward the door where his date stood with her hands on her hips glaring at Annaliese. “It’s not every day Marcus Black cooks for me.”
Annalise opened her mouth to correct her customer, but he was walking away. She shrugged. It was a common mistake. Sure, Chef Marcus owned the restaurant, along with newer venues in San Francisco and Los Angeles. He was busy and rarely in any kitchen, let alone the one here at Folie. In fact, Annalise had only met him once. And he’d almost fired her so she wasn’t looking forward to a reintroduction.
She turned around and shrieked.
“As a rule, I don’t like it when my employees scream, but since service is over I’ll let it slide.”
There, sharing the space behind the bar with her stood Marcus Black, his chef’s jacket unbuttoned. He held Annalise’s green eyes with his own black ones.
“Sorry, Chef. I wasn’t expecting you,” Annalise said with a stammer. “Why were you sneaking around?”
“It’s my restaurant, isn’t it?” Marcus said. He didn’t give Annalise time to answer. He looked her up and down. “Didn’t I fire you?” he demanded.
“No, you wanted to but your mom told you not to,” Annalise said.
Marcus chose a bottle of wine and looked at the label. “Right, you had been speaking to her in French all night. She said you were too lovely to fire.” His eyes took in Annalise’s long dark curls and sun–kissed brown skin. He hated when his mother was right.
“Remind me…you’re from where in the Caribbean? St. Martin?” Marcus asked. He had a way of talking that could only be described as demanding.
Annalise asked herself why she found it so sexy. Maybe because that demanding nature is what got him a Micheline stare and a James Beard Award before he turned thirty. She liked people who knew how to get what they wanted.
“No, I’m from North Hollywood. My parents are from Trinidad,” Annalise said. She grabbed a corkscrew off the bar and gave it a light toss in Marcus’s direction. He caught it without moving his eyes from her.
“And I am from Marina del Rey but my parents are from Paris,” Marcus said. “And here we are at a little restaurant in Santa Barbara.”
The front of the restaurant’s quiet was broken only by the chattering of the wait staff and the kitchen crew drifting in from the semi–open kitchen.
“Do you miss it?” Annalise asked, her voice quiet and low.
Marcuse looked surprised at her question, and for a moment she thought he might not answer her, but he did. “Yes, I do miss it. That is why I do things like show up on Valentine’s Day to cook for a bunch of desperate couples. You know what the first chef I worked for called it?”
Annalise shook her head no.
“Amateur hour. Only amateur lovers eat out on Valentine’s Day.”
“You know, you’re making upwards of three–hundred dollars from those amateurs.” Annalise said. The phrase amateur lover stuck in her head. All the gossip pointed to Marcuse being anything but an amateur.
Expert lover. Annalise felt a tickle under her ribs at the thought. She hadn’t had a lover of any kind since she’d started graduate school eighteen months ago.
Marcus smiled at her. “I can’t imagine why I’d want to fire you,” he said.
“I blame poor judgment,” she replied.
“I’m pretty sure it was insubordination,” Marcus said. “Care for a glass?”
“Yes, thank you.” She watched as he took a second wine glass off the glass shelves behind the bar. He flipped it in the air and caught it by its stem.
“Wow, nice,” Annaliese said.
“I have many hidden talents,” Marcus said.
“I bet you do,” Annalise said, willing herself not to blush. Expert lover…
“I’ll show them to you. If you’re lucky,” Marcus said handing Annalise the wine.
Leaning forward to breathe in the wine’s aroma helped Annalise hide the pink tinge that spread across her lightly–freckled tan cheeks. She took a sip. Delicious.
She looked up to find Marcus staring at her.
“What?” she asked.
“My mother was right. You are lovely, that’s what.” Marcus took a long sip of wine, his eyes never leaving her.
“I…” Annaliese started.
“Just say ‘thank you’,” Marcus said. He didn’t quite have an accent, but he didn’t sound like most other So–Cal guys.
“Don’t tell me what to do,” Annaliese said, her voice cool.
Marcus’s voice was even cooler. “I’m your boss. That means I can tell you to do anything I want.” At some point, Marcus had shed his chef’s coat. His thin T–shirt clung to his lean muscles. Expert…
“Asking might get you farther than telling,” Annalise said. She heard her voice shake.
Marcus shook his head. “No, you’re not that kind of…employee.”
He moved closer.
Annaliese wanted to take a step back she was almost up against the smooth grey wood of the bar.
“Don’t be nervous, I just want to check the time,” Marcus said pushing a key on the cash register. “Look, it’s eleven fifty–five.”
Annaliese blinked up at him, clueless.
“Just in time,” Marcus said. His voice was quiet
“In time for what?” Annaliese murmured.
Marcus put his hand on her cheek and leaned forward. “A Valentine’s Day kiss. If you want it.”
Annaliese heard a small “Oh” escape her lips.
Marcus took it as a yes. He pressed his mouth to hers. His lips were warm and unhesitant. He kissed her as if he had every right to.
Annaliese kissed him back, parting her lips inviting him in without hesitating.
His hands were large and strong. They dropped to her waist and pulled her tight against him.
That first night, even after he’d tried to fire her she had wondered what kissing him would be like. The reality was even better than the fantasy.
A pan dropped somewhere in the kitchen and they pulled apart.
“You’re definitely not an amateur,” Annaliese said.
Marcus smiled, and leaned in again.
I hope you enjoyed my little romantic scene! If you’re interested in more from me, check me out on Amazon! Don’t forget to visit my friend Carolyn Spear to see what she’s written for us. Thanks for stopping by.