At Your Service Read online

  "Sorry." Her apology was awkward. "I just came in to ask if you had a price list for drinks."

  "Of course." Tyler stood and reached out to a shelf above her head, abutting the door frame. He deliberately crowded her as he searched for the price list in the stack of papers piled haphazardly on the shelf. He waited for her to back up, and smiled to himself when she just glared up at him, those lake-blue eyes flashing with waves of irritation.

  He'd left his door open a crack after walking off and leaving Grace to whip his sisters into shape as a waitstaff. He heard her unintentionally insult his mother and flinched in sympathy. And then, after a moment of silence during which he could somehow feel her take a deep breath and take charge, he heard his fragile, blond smart-ass launch into an entertaining and informative lecture on how to wait tables like a pro. After five minutes, he'd shut his office door and tackled the phone.

  Now he listened to her making huffy little noises of irritation as he pretended to continue his search for a price list and he wanted to laugh out loud at what a bundle of nerves and brash-ness she was. Making a noise of sudden, pleased discovery, he exaggerated his relief at finding the laminated sheet of paper and sat again, handing it to her in the process.

  "Thanks." She started to glance over the list as she turned to go, then stopped short in the doorway.

  "This isn't going to work."

  "What isn't going to work?" he asked, his voice sharper than he'd intended. He'd put a lot of thought into the pricing of his drinks, after all, searching for that delicate balance be- tween maximizing profit and convincing the customer that he was getting a good deal. Ten years of serving drinks in someone else's bar had taught him what worked and he knew his price list was exactly right for the house.

  He saw Grace turn and glance guiltily at him, and wondered what misdeed she thought she'd performed now. When she brushed off his question with a shrug and an apology, he realized that she was afraid to point out to him something she didn't agree with. He gentled his voice. Another of his goals was to be the kind of boss that employees felt comfortable talking to.

  "It's okay, Grace. I'm not going to be mad at you. If you've got a suggestion, let me have it. It's our opening night, you know. I probably don't have everything perfect yet." He smiled to encourage her.

  Grace fumed and kept the timid smile plastered across her face. Not until Tyler had snapped at her had she realized that she'd slipped and started talking to him as a restaurant manager would. That level of confidence and analysis would certainly be out of character for her cover story.

  "No, you do. Have things perfect, I mean. The prices seem right-on for the neighborhood and the crowd you're likely to get." She kept her voice soft and on the nervous side. "I was just thinking that this list might be a little complicated for your sisters. Seeing as it's their first time waiting tables."

  "And what would you suggest?"

  "Well, if we could maybe group the drinks into just a few price categories? You know, domestic and import beers, well drinks, call drinks and premiums." She reeled off the standard ordering procedure of her restaurants without a hitch. "That way they wouldn't have so much to remember."

  Tyler knew immediately that she was correct and was irritated for not thinking of it himself. He might have the time and inclination to memorize fifty or sixty different drink prices, but his servers deserved a price list they could learn without studying as if they were prepping for a college exam. After a mo- merit's thought, he grabbed a piece of scrap paper and scribbled out a new list that was five lines long.

  "For tonight, use this. We'll expand it later."

  "Thank you, Tyler. This will help out a lot."

  It was like a punch to the gut, grabbing him and dragging him to his feet to stand over her. Just hearing her say his name in that soft, almost-apologetic voice, as though she was afraid even to speak to him. It made him want to kiss her until she pushed him away—he had no doubt that she would—and told him off again in that sassy, take-no-grief attitude.

  He snagged her elbow as she headed out the door and pulled her back around to face him. Her eyes were wide and blinking with nervousness as he laid a hand alongside her face and brushed his fingers from her hairline to the edge of her mouth.

  "In the future, don't hesitate to talk to me, Grace."

  He leaned forward, close enough to feel the warmth of her breath on his face.

  "You don't have to. hide your intelligence from me. Let me into that clever little mind."

  His lips hovered over hers for one never-ending moment.

  "I want to know what you're thinking."

  When he touched his mouth to hers, she gave a little sigh and sank the smallest bit further into his kiss. Her mouth eased open under his gentle assault, his teeth nipping softly at her full, lower lip. He traced his fingertips along the edge of her upswept hair, around to the back of her neck and then skated them down her spine. Her back arched sharply beneath his hand. She might have been avoiding the pressure of his hand, but her escape had the pleasant side effect of pressing her breasts into his chest.

  Tyler felt light-headed from the effort of restraining himself from moving any faster and scaring her off. Well, if he passed out, surely someone would throw some water on him to wake him up.

  When she pulled back after a time that was not nearly long enough, Tyler figured that that was to be expected.

  Her next words, however, were not.

  "I'm thinking Addy and Sarah aren't going to be able to handle more than two tables each, which leaves me with eight four-tops and hostess duties."

  "What?"

  "You asked me what I was thinking." She looked up at him with calm eyes. "That's it."

  For a moment Tyler was offended. He'd kissed her and she'd practically knocked him out, and she felt nothing? She could just continue a conversation as if nothing had happened between them? Fine, then. If she could ignore it, so could he.

  But as he opened his mouth to say something that would probably have turned out to be irredeemably callous, he saw Grace raise her hand.

  She dropped it down again by her side a second later, but he'd caught the nervous gesture. She'd been reaching to tug on her hair, but couldn't because she'd pinned her hair up in a loose twist. Taking a second look, he noticed the faint flush on her cheekbones that hadn't been there before and the barely visible flutter of an elevated pulse at the base of her throat. She'd been as affected by the brief kiss as he was, he realized.

  Tyler knew the satisfaction he felt at these signs was a ridiculous display of his male ego, but what the hell. He could afford to indulge himself. He'd made Grace blush.

  The smile he shot her was pure lord-of-the-manor.

  "Sounds like you've got it covered then, darlin'. Good thing, 'cause we open the door in fifteen minutes, and soon after, all hell breaks loose. I hope."

  Grace nodded, muttered something incoherent and walked off through the kitchen, heading back to the floor of the house. And Tyler sat in his swivel chair, kicked his feet up on the desk and started counting all the reasons that it was a bad idea for him to be feeling this attracted to his waitress, the only non-family staff member he had at the moment.

  But he grinned as he counted.

  As Grace fled through the kitchen, she kept her head down. The sound of a pot banging loudly on a steel counter made her flinch and then groan out loud. Oh, Lord. She hadn't even thought about Tyler's mother being right outside his office, prepping food for the night.

  She wondered if there was any possible recovery from insulting the woman and then kissing her son, who was supposed to be her boss, in front of her.

  Maybe she would just tell all her customers that there would be no food served tonight and stay out of the kitchen completely. Hey, they could still drink.

  Just not eat.

  But damn the man, did he have to just go and kiss her?

  She was already having trouble enough, concentrating around him, trying not to trip over her own tongue
or her false stories. She just couldn't seem to catch her balance when she was in the same room as Tyler, and she wasn't quite sure why.

  Okay, sure, the man was movie-star handsome. The kind of movie star that was inevitably referred to as having "rugged, good looks." Which in Tyler's case meant a heavy, sensuous mouth, cheekbones to die for and straight, dark brows oven midnight eyes. Eyes whose favorite activity seemed to be taking long, sweeping looks over her body with half-lidded lazy indulgence. And it wasn't fair that although she was tall enough at five foot nine to look most men in the eyes, she had to crane her neck to look up at Tyler when she spoke to him. But after all, the man was just a bartender.

  A gorgeous, hardworking, restaurant-opening bartender, whose family obviously adored him.

  But still, Grace argued with herself. She'd arranged cocktail parties for industry magnates, hosted political fund-raisers for senators and congresswomen and arranged for film and music celebrities to dine in her restaurants in privacy.

  The vice president of the United States had given a speech at one of her restaurants during the Democratic National Convention, for crying out loud.

  In all those different situations, Grace had kept her cool. She'd refrained from acting star-struck by actors who, when she was a girl, had shaped her idea of what handsome was, or intimidated by the men and women she met who had the power to alter the course of her country's destiny.

  But Tyler didn't even have to touch her to make her lose her train of thought.

  And when he did touch her...

  Be honest, Grace, you lost your mind. Completely.

  She decided that a bathroom visit was in order, if only to make sure that she didn't look as disheveled as she felt. She hadn't been in the ladies' room yet, but it was easy enough to find. She'd just straighten herself up a bit. Perhaps reapply a little of the lipstick Tyler had kissed off her mouth.

  Ten seconds later she was back in the dining room, grabbing a protesting Addy and Sarah by the hands and dragging them into the bathroom.

  She flung open the door and waved ta-da with one hand.

  "Have you seen this bathroom?"

  Sarah and Addy looked at each other and then back at Grace, before Sarah said cautiously, "Yes. Why? Don't you like it?"

  "Like it?" Grace stared dreamily at the charming little room in front of her. The walls were painted in blue-on-blue sponge paint and were hung with dried floral wreaths. Instead of a harsh overhead light, small shaded lamps were scattered around the room. A basket of potpourri, along with other baskets containing complimentary sample-size toiletries, sat alongside the marble sink. Even the floor was unique with a jigsaw puzzle pattern of flagstones in several muted colors. "I'd come to eat here just for the pleasure of visiting the ladies' room."

  "I know what you mean," Addy murmured as the three women stood in the doorway and experienced a moment of pure, feminine pleasure.

  "Which one of you is responsible for this'? Or was it your mother?"

  "Neither," answered Sarah with a smug grin on her face.

  "Then who—not Tyler?"

  "None other," Addy chipped in helpfully while pulling back her masses of wildly curly hair and attempting to impose some kind of order on the tangles. "He said that after a lifetime of listening to us complain about how awful women's bathrooms usually were, he wanted to make sure we'd have nothing bad to say about his."

  Just what I need, Grace thought. Gorgeous, hardworking and he listens to his sisters.

  She didn't realize that she'd spoken out loud until both Sarah and Addy erupted with laughter.

  "Sounds like Grace has the hots for our brother dearest, doesn't it, Addy?"

  "Sure does. We'll have to check her out, you know. Make sure she's good enough for him," Addy teased. "Spill it, Gra-cie. Where'd you grow up? Go to school? Does insanity generally run in your family?"

  "Good question, sis," Sarah quipped back. "Because you knew she's got to be a little bit crazy to go for our brother. Even if he is gorgeous."

  "But pushy. Don't forget that. He can be a real pain in the—"

  "Listen." The word came out sharper than she intended. "I don't have the hots for Tyler." She regretted the words already as she watched herself kill the laughter in the air. She knew they were joking about checking out her background, but she couldn't stop the fear that rushed through her at the words. And she couldn't begin to answer their teasing questions without making up even more lies. "I don't have the hots for anyone, and I certainly wouldn't be dumb enough to get involved with my boss, in any case. That would be completely inappropriate."

  Sarah's face froze, then drained of color. She crossed her hands over her chest and rubbed her arms tightly. Grace wondered if she'd just delivered yet another unintentional but deadly insult and hoped she was wrong.

  "I'm sorry." Grace looked Sarah in the eyes as she spoke. "But maybe we should get ready. We'll be opening the doors in a minute."

  "Sure," the other woman said and walked away.

  Grace turned to Addy, wanting to apologize further, and saw that the older woman was watching her sister leave and looking concerned. As if she felt the weight of Grace's gaze, Addy shrugged and lifted her hands in a helpless gesture.

  "I was afraid she was dating that jerk of a boss she has. You just confirmed it for me."

  "Addy, I'm sorry." It felt as though she was doing nothing but saying she was sorry to these women, who were being so nice to her, for what must look like hypersensitivity and a brusqueness that bordered on rudeness. "I didn't mean to make Sarah feel bad. I wasn't even thinking about her." She shook her head in frustration. Maybe she would be better off if these women didn't like her. She really shouldn't get involved here.

  Somehow, that didn't seem possible though. And she did feel bad. "I didn't even know she had a boss."

  Addy reached out with a strong and graceful hand and squeezed Grace's shoulder in sympathy.

  "Don't worry about it, sweetie. You couldn't have known, and we're all a little nervous tonight." She smiled gently. "What do you say we get ready for the ravenous hordes'?"

  Grace decided that, there was one last thing she needed to do first.

  Palms sweating like a teenager's in the principal's office, she marched straight back to the kitchen and, after a brief hesitation, slipped quietly through the swinging doors.

  Tyler's mother was separated from her by the prep counter, over which she'd hand the dishes to the servers, and a stainless steel-top island that served both as chopping block and counter space. As Grace watched, Susannah wielded a large knife on a head of broccoli, slicing up florets as though the tough, fibrous stalks were made of butter.

  Don't slouch, girl. She could hear her grandmother's voice admonishing her. What do you think she's going to do? Bite you?

  You never know, Grace retorted, and then gave in.

  "Mrs., um," she began, and then realized that she had no idea what Susannah's surname was. "Susannah? Excuse me?"

  "Yes? And it's Mrs. Tyler, but that makes me feel old, so don't call me that." Susannah looked up from her chopping.

  "Okay," Grace said, confused. "Then Tyler is his last name?"

  "Yes."

  "What's his first name?"

  Susannah scowled. "That boy. I gave him a perfectly good name and he won't let anyone use it. His name is Christopher."

  "I don't understand. Christopher is a very ordinary—" she saw the frown deepen "—I mean, a very lovely name. Why doesn't he like it?"

  Tyler's mother blushed faintly. "Because of his middle name. I keep telling him I was delirious, after eighteen hours of labor with his fat head. His father and I had already decided on Christopher for a first name, but we hadn't picked a middle name yet."

  "So what did you decide on?"

  "Robin." Grace choked orua giggle. Susannah grimaced. "I told you I was delirious. I thought it was charming."

  "Christopher Robin?"

  "As in Winnie the Pooh, yes. You see why he hates me. He's refused to
answer to anything but Tyler ever since first grade."

  Grace couldn't think of anything to say. Moments ticked by in silence until she remembered her original reason for coming into the kitchen. She noticed that Susannah hadn't put the knife down. No time like the present, she thought.

  "I just wanted to apologize if I offended you earlier. I assure you I meant no disrespect when I questioned your cooking abilities." She was proud to hear that her voice sounded steady and sincere. Since she hadn't been thrown out of the kitchen yet, she thought it time to try a little charm. "My mother only goes in the kitchen to use the phone to order take-out. I've learned not to make any assumptions about mothers and cooking. But I'm glad you'll be in charge here."

  "In charge?" Susannah laughed and the smile carved well-worn tracks in her still lovely face. "You don't know my son very well if you think anyone but himself is in charge at this restaurant. This is his baby."

  "I don't know your son at all, ma'am," Grace said, letting her frustration show. She caught herself reaching to tug on her hair again and tried to force herself to stay still. But the frustration was pushing at her self-control and she couldn't quite hide the irritation in her voice. "I don't know him. I don't have the hots for him. And I certainly don't want to get involved with him!"

  She punctuated each sentence with a pointed finger at Tyler's mother and before she even finished the last words was already horrified by her outburst.

  "So was that someone else I saw kissing him in the office doorway?"

  "Oh, God, I was afraid you saw that."

  "Of course I saw it. You're in my kitchen, aren't you?" Susannah came around the kitchen island and walked up to the prep counter, detouring to pull a heavy steel ladle from a hook on the wall. "I saw you, too, trying to pretend that the kiss was nothing. Was it?"

  Grace chewed on Her lower lip for a minute, until she realized that that made her think of Tyler. She wanted to say that it had been nothing, a momentary weakness that had left her untouched when it was over. But I can't lie about everything, not if I want to be able to look these people in the eye.

  "He knocked my socks off," she admitted. The blush that raced over her face, as Susannah laughed in delight, threatened to catch her hair on fire. "If your son runs a bar as well as he kisses, he'll have nothing to worry about."