Breathless (The ABCs of Love Book 2) Read online

  “I’ve got my first interview in an hour. For a receptionist. Were you going to sit in on that? Zach says he doesn’t need to, but he told me you might.”

  The control freak in me tenses up at letting this responsibility go, but this is why we hired an HR person, right? “I trust your judgment.”

  She looks at me as if I didn’t quite get what she said. “This is my first hire.”

  “You’ve got this.”

  She slowly lights up at that, and my gut tightens. She’s got a great smile along with … well, everything else. I file that smile in the no-no drawer with her legs.

  She points at me with perky confidence. “You’re right, Barry. I do have this.” Then she smiles again and forges out of the office.

  My gaze lingers on the doorway. There’s a whiff of intoxicating coconut, but I shake my head, knowing that Penny’s not only off-limits — in that Puritan dress, she’s so not my type.

  As for my type? I go back to my dating app, swiping over the screen until I find one.

  Chapter 14

  Penny

  Holly Sparks is snipping away at my hair in the Curly Cue Salon during my lunch hour. She’s trying something new on me — a long bob that’ll fall just past my shoulders in a razored, chic way. I’m excited about the slight, more stylish change as I look at her progress in the mirror.

  “I tell you, Penny,” she says in the empty salon. Everyone else is taking a noon break. “Not to be mean, but when we heard you weren’t going to Chicago, we all gave a cheer. Getting this job at FCT was a step up as far as we all were concerned.” Snip, snip. More of my hair falls to the floor. “How’s FCT going, anyway?”

  “Great. I’m actually comfortable in my position. It’s not as hard as I thought it’d be, but that’s only because I didn’t have the confidence I should’ve had going in.”

  As Holly nods her pixie-cut head, I shift in my seat under the plastic drape. I don’t tell her that the biggest reason for my confidence is that Barry has been surprisingly professional and not what Zach would call a schmuck at all. I’ve heard Zach lob that endearment at him a few times from down the hallway, but Barry always just laughs and goes about his business.

  I’ve been seeing a different side of him lately — a hardnosed pro who is critical and expects perfection, yes, but he’s that way with everyone, not just me. He’s also a very smart guy, and I don’t mean smartass. Barry knows his stuff. A lot of stuff. And he shares it with me instead of acting like the information is above my pay grade. Who knew?

  Holly hums along with the Luke Bryan song on the stereo while I close my eyes for a moment, allowing myself to think a little bit more about Barry, now that I’m out of the office. My naughty mind drifts to that night we had together: Barry and I in bed getting sweaty, our skin sliding together, his fingers on me and in me. I cross my legs under the drape.

  “Penny,” Holly says, reminding me not to do that or it’ll mess up the cut.

  I uncross, but I’m still buzzing in my pretties. What makes me buzz even more is the thought that, during our night, there were a couple times when Barry quit being so “Barry,” like when he covered me up down there after removing my panties, just like there was a bit of a gentleman in him. Or when he tucked back the hair from my face right before we got down to big business …

  Since Holly isn’t noticing my trip through fantasyland, I entertain myself some more by remembering how Barry definitely knew what he was doing in the sack. Holly just dries my hair and styles it, and by the time she shows off my new cut to me, I’m one long line of fizz. There’s no way I’m going into the office thinking of him like this.

  My new leaf is turned, and I’m not going back on my promise to myself — or to him.

  I thank Holly for the awesome cut, pay her, then put on my coat and bounce my way back down to the offices. The sun is out again, and it’s a warmer winter than usual. Snow still dusts the mountains, but down here, it’s melted all the way. The rain left us alone this week, too. I couldn’t be in a better mood.

  As soon as I cross the threshold into FCT, my virginity grows back again. I am sexless and ready for work.

  I’m not the only one returning from lunch; I can hear some activity down the hallway. Not minding the bustle, I go to my office and sit in my comfy leather chair behind my big-girl HR desk, then wake up my computer. A ping greets me — a colorful message from Hana Sushi announcing that they’re opening tomorrow. I’d signed up for their mailing list out of sheer curiosity, and I’m sure glad I did, because as I read their tagline — Our Rolls Will Leave You Breathless — I sigh. I might be stuck in Cherry Valley, but here’s my chance for at least one new-world experience. I’ll take what I can get.

  I read a sampling of their menu items. Not that I have any idea what they mean, because I’ve never tried sushi. But I want to do it — I’m totally into this — and I don’t want to do it alone. Mandy could take sushi or leave it, and most of my friends aren’t into it either. Dilemma.

  As I look longingly at the message, thinking that I wouldn’t even know what to order, one of the new techies, Deepak, strolls by my office. He backwalks to my door, and I don’t have time to click off the sushi announcement without seeming like I’m getting a porn fix or something.

  “Hey, Penny.” He’s wearing a nerdy purple sweater with checkers on it. “I like your hair.”

  “Thanks.” Flattered, I sit up in my chair and touch my head. “I just got it done.”

  “It’s really nice.”

  He sounds very enthusiastic, and he’s looking at me like he might want to talk about my hair over cocktails at the Acentric Alchemist tonight, since they just reopened. I almost laugh, because along with some of the other new techie hires, he’s young. Sperm young. Maybe he isn’t the kind of bad-news guy I used to be into, but being almost a zygote makes him not my type. I have no idea why he’d even be interested in me since I’m older and I look it, wearing one of the conservative outfits I bought at a boutique on Jamboree Lane. It’s not like I’m Katy Perry wandering the halls and flashing my wares for some attention like I occasionally used to do in the Footloose Saloon.

  New leaf, you know?

  Deepak is just getting in the swing of hitting on me, planting his hand on the doorframe, all hey-hey-hey, when Barry walks past.

  Now he backtracks, but it isn’t to compliment me on my hair. He’s scowling down at Deepak, and my heart flips over. Is he jealous? Oh, joy, I sure hope he is!

  But that’s just stupid.

  Deepak seems to shrink under Barry’s glare, and he skulks away. Then Barry looks at me. I shrug. I hope he sees that I’m sitting here minding my own business, hardly a sexual lure for fresh meat.

  I hope he notices my hair.

  As he wanders into my office and pops an M&M into his mouth with one hand, I spy what’s in his other one — his phone, and the glow of a dating app stares back at me. He sees where I’m looking and glances at the screen, clearly noticing that I’ve noticed, but he doesn’t hide it.

  Does he want me to see it?

  Then his gaze goes to my computer with the Hana Sushi announcement.

  I don’t want him to think I’m falling down on the job by using office equipment for personal business. “It’s only a ping.” Then I delete it.

  Barry doesn’t seem pissed. He actually stuffs his phone into his jeans pocket and leans back against a wall, relaxing right next to a framed print of New Orleans I brought from my place to hang here. His t-shirt for today announces I’m a Keeper.

  Oh, the irony.

  “You like sushi?” he asks, jerking his chin toward my computer. Then he tosses another candy into his mouth.

  He doesn’t seem so distant today. Maybe it’s because we’ve started to trust each other and our naughty night is far in our past. In dog years, anyway.

  “I actually don’t know if I like sushi.” I swivel my chair so I’m facing him. “But I’m dying to try it. One of the places I’ve always wanted to visit is Japan.
It seems so …”

  “Fascinating? It is. It’s alive with lights and history.”

  My pulse nearly does a loop-de-loop. He’s well-traveled, unlike many other guys I’ve been with. Too bad he’s Barry.

  “Hana Sushi is opening tomorrow.” He rolls the M&Ms in his big hand. Hoo-boy, that hand. “I’ve been looking forward to going in for a feast. It’s a pain to travel to Marloe just for some good food.”

  “No one I know will want to go for sushi. Resisting change is just so Cherry Valley, isn’t it?”

  He shrugs. “I’ll take you there for lunch tomorrow if you want.”

  My eyes boing out of my skull. Not really, but I’m sure something similar just happened as I sit in shock. “Is that … appropriate?” I’m not offended, just worried that we’re about to slide into trouble. I’ve been thinking about trouble too much with him, and maybe he knows it. Maybe we won’t be able to keep on being professional, even though we were doing so well …

  “Yeah, it’s appropriate. You’re my mentee. Or haven’t you noticed?”

  Huh. I guess it did happen while I wasn’t looking.

  He pushes off from the wall. “It’ll be a business lunch. You’ve been working hard, and Zach and I have been talking about how to reward you anyway. We’ll expense the meal and use the time to talk about your career trajectory.”

  I don’t see anything wrong with that. We’ll be in public, so there’s no chance anything will go off the rails. And it’s a business thing.

  Well, that seems to be that, and Barry exits my office. But before he leaves entirely, he pauses and glances back at me.

  “You did something to your hair.”

  I nod, pleased he noticed, and he nods, too. I think it’s in approval. Then he goes on his way, leaving me to go about mine. He’s even gone before he can see my little smile.

  Chapter 15

  Barry

  The next afternoon, as I open the door to Hana Sushi for Penny, the hand-painted wooden sign above the entrance tells me Our Rolls Will Leave You Breathless. Now, I know Linus Inouye, the main owner and business brains of this place, and this cringe-worthy marketing ploy doesn’t sound like him. Still, the cheesiness of this forgettable catchphrase doesn’t cancel out my excitement that sushi has made its debut in Cherry Valley.

  Stunningly, there’re a lot of other people in town who agree, because the restaurant is swamped. The private booths with their simple yet elegant blondwood slats and low-hanging lights are full. So are the tables underneath the sweeping geisha art and small rock waterfalls. When Penny and I get to the hostess stand, I explain that I called ahead, but that isn’t necessary because Linus spots me and rushes over.

  “Barry!” He shakes my hand. He’s a lean guy from Hawaii with silver at his temples and crinkles around his ever-smiling eyes. “What do you think?”

  “I’ll tell you how breathless I am after tasting the food.” I grin, then urge Penny to my side. “This is Penny Burnett. She works in FCT’s small but distinguished Human Resources department. Penny, this is Linus Inouye. I believe this is his seventh restaurant?”

  “Eighth,” Linus says, “but the first in Cherry Valley.”

  When Linus kisses Penny’s hand, she seems flattered. I seem way more possessive of her than I should be, and I fight the instinct to put my arm around her shoulders, just to show him she’s not up for grabs, especially since it seems this new hairdo of hers has been attracting more attention from the guys than I’m comfortable with.

  I have to admit her hair is hotter than hell, but I won’t.

  Penny is polite to Linus, but she’s too busy looking around with her big, sparkling eyes to flirt back at him. “It’s really wonderful in here.”

  “Thank you.” Linus escorts us to the best seat in the house — an elevated booth where we can see the chef working her magic behind the counter with the other cooks. She’s got her black hair in a low bun, a rolled scarf banded around her forehead and tied in back, and she’s dressed in chef whites. When Linus calls out to her, she looks up from a sushi roll she’s painstakingly working on and smiles pleasantly at us, then gets back to work.

  “Barry, you remember Emi from The Inouye Grill back in the Bay Area,” Linus says after we’re seated.

  I nod, and then explain to Penny, “Emi’s his business partner in this venture, and the executive chef.”

  Penny glances me, then at Emi again, as if there’s got to be some story between us. There isn’t, but it looks like Penny’s gauging the possibility anyway. Emi’s petite and attractive with brown eyes and smooth, light skin, so is Penny wondering if she’s my type? Emi’s not — and it’s not because she’s Asian, because believe me, I like all types. She’s actually too nice for me, and she does nothing to get the old pump going. I like an edge.

  I try to stop looking at Penny as Linus hands us flat menus and then excuses himself to run the front of the house. I put out any and all fires that are flaring up every other minute in my gut. Maybe lunch with Penny was a bad idea, but during these past weeks, I think that she and I have proven that we can work together. Besides, I have business meals all the time — I even took that little shit Deepak who was hanging out at Penny’s office yesterday out for artisanal tacos last week.

  Penny’s got the menu in front of her, but she’s giving me a lowered glance. “So you’re the one who persuaded them to bring Hana Sushi here, huh?”

  “Yup.”

  “Well, don’t you have some pull.” She puts down her menu. “Since you’re Mr. Big, how about you do the honors of ordering for both of us? I’m up for trying anything.”

  That she’s up for trying anything does not surprise me. What does surprise me is that Penny wants me to be in charge. It seemed like she was all about equal opportunity in the bedroom, and I sure as hell didn’t mind giving her the upper hand whenever she wanted it.

  When our server appears, I already know what we’re getting. I’ve been craving everything from beginner’s sushi to advanced, so I run the gamut: miso soup to start, then seaweed salad, then a progression of rolls including shrimp tempura and soft-shell crab. From there, we’ll move on to rolls with more ominous names like dragon and spider. We’re even going to see how Penny does with the salmon roe and unagi.

  She doesn’t seem put off by any of the names. In fact, she seems to enjoy the challenge, just like with the HR work.

  “Want to know something?” she whispers over the Japanese string music and the sound of lightly trickling water from the rock falls on the back wall.

  At the intimate sound of her voice, steam expands in my veins, but … business. Totally business. “What?”

  “Not only have I never been to sushi — I’ve never been to a business lunch.”

  “I suppose you wouldn’t have needed to while working at the Burger Bomb or running The Curio Cupboard.”

  Her expression falls slightly. Shit.

  “I didn’t mean that as a slam, Penny.”

  “I know. You’re just being straightforward. That’s why you’re a boss, Barry.”

  The Japanese soda I also ordered arrives along with our waters. Her mood instantly improves, and so does mine.

  “Melon cream pop?” she asks with the joy of a kid opening a gift.

  “Based on your love of cherry cider, I thought you might like something fruit forward.”

  “Um, yeah.”

  She pours from the can into the iced glass, then takes a swig and closes her eyes. Her pleasure is my pleasure, too, and I have to shift gears before I get too wrapped up in her.

  “I told you that we’re here to chat about your career.” I nudge my own soda can toward her, because I have the feeling Penny’s going to slurp down all of hers before the server can come back. “Where do you see yourself in five years?”

  “Drinking more of this.” She picks up the can. “In Japan.”

  Why does this feel like a date now? Time to shift gears again. “That’s not what I meant.”

  She sighs and
puts down the soda. “I know. It’s just that I never think that far ahead. I should have goals, but I grew up living life week by week, adventure to adventure, at least as much of it as Cherry Valley had to offer. My parents hated that. They’ve always been so practical, with my dad repairing farm equipment and my mom raising us kids.” She brightens up. “I do know that I’d like to run a business again — not curios, though. And that’s not to say I don’t see something long-term happening with FCT, but I think I might wither away if I don’t see the world. An online business could make that happen.” Her bright eyes go dreamy. “Yeah. I think I’d like that kind of life.”

  It’s almost like I can see her heart in her gaze, and when my own pulse seems to beat in time with whatever I see in her eyes, I snap out of it. Still, experiencing the world is something I can understand.

  “That’s certainly a doable goal,” I say. “If you’d like, I can send you something about classes you can take and books you can read to help you out.”

  “You’d do that?”

  Right now, with her looking at me that way, I’d do it in a heartbeat. For my mentee, of course. That’s the only reason. “Zach and I wouldn’t have gotten anywhere if it wasn’t for more experienced professionals helping us out. Besides, that’s why FCT is in Cherry Valley, to build this place up, along with its people.”

  She pauses in drinking her soda. “And people say you’re such a pill. I don’t think you’re a pill.”

  Then she drains the rest of her drink, and I push mine all the way over to her. She eagerly goes for it, throwing back more of that sugar, and when she puts the can back down, she lets out a satisfied ah!

  She laughs. “The rolls in this place are what’s supposed to leave you breathless. Not the soda pop.”

  “Ugh, that tagline. It’s awful. Emi had to have made that up.”

  “You don’t like it?”

  “You do?” I see a teachable moment here. If she’s going to have her own business again, she’ll need a lesson about marketing. “I think the catchphrase is severely meh.”