Chapter 11

Kat

JUST BEFORE ROUNDING the corner to go to Trent’s office, I glanced through Ginger’s dining room and out the vast windows that looked out onto the magnificent view.

Kobe had reached his car and was sitting in the driver’s seat, fuming. He buckled his seatbelt, started the car, then glanced at his watch and turned the engine off. He opened the car door and seemed ready to step out, but he closed the door, slammed his open palms on the steering wheel and started the car again.

After another long moment, Kobe finally backed out of the parking space and slowly drove off the lot.

A sudden warmth brushed against my neck, and up to my ear.

Trent was standing right behind me; close behind me.

“He seems like a very nervous fellow,” Trent murmured. “Not really the type to run a restaurant. He’ll have to find a way to calm down.”

“I guess you’re right,” I whispered. Part of me wanted to defend Kobe but, then again, he had been acting pretty nervous.

“Running a restaurant requires a level head, a calm demeanor and the capacity to think and do several things at the same time.” He brushed his lips along the curve of my neck. His chest brushed again my back while an unexpected hardness lightly touched my rear.

My breath caught in my throat and my knees suddenly felt like soft putty.

“You appear to have all those qualities, Katrina,” he went on. “A level head for someone so young. Your calm demeanor. You’ve already impressed me with your work on the budget. I can’t wait to see what you do with this place.”

I turned to face him. We were inches apart, his chest pressing against my breasts. “I’m glad you approve,” I said. “Some men are a little put off by a woman who... well, who has a mind of her own.”

“I’m not put off in the slightest,” he said. “In fact, it makes me all the more intrigued by the beautiful young woman in front of me.”

I smiled, curious to learn more about him. Knowing my father, he only hired the best, but surely there was more to Trent than just being a good manager.

I prided myself on knowing virtually every employee in every one of my family’s restaurants, and Trent was no different. Surely he would be disappointed if he learned that that was the real reason I’d insisted on staying behind.

“You know when I first learned that students would be taking on the opening of this restaurant, I was apprehensive. In fact, I was against the idea. I thought it a bit absurd to entrust such young and inexperienced students with such a serious and important task.”

“And now?” I said with a coy smile.

His smile broadened and he grasped my shoulders in his warm hands. “Now, I look forward to every moment. I have a feeling that I might even learn something from you. You’re exceptionally bright.”

“And you are far too kind. I’m just observant and...”

“Don’t play modest, Katrina. You’re a natural in the world of restaurants.”

“Thank you. But you are setting the bar quite high. I hope I won’t disappoint you.”

“Impossible,” he said.

I smiled as I thought of one of my favorite reality shows; Undercover Boss. I’d always wondered what it would be like to go undercover and see what my father’s employees really think about him... and the Lee family. Now was my chance.

“We’d better get to work if we’re going to find our staff,” I said,

He released his hold on me and led the way to his office.

“I’ll make a few calls to the Lee Head Office,” he said as he walked around to sit at his desk. “I happen to know that Lee Family Restaurants has an impressive Human Resources department. I’ll contact them and see if they have any junior chefs that could fill the Exec Chef here.”

“That’s a good idea, Trent,” I said. “Although the Lee Family Restaurant company is quite large, I’ve heard that Mr. Lee is surprisingly approachable. Apparently, he’s not at all like some company presidents who think they’re above everyone else.”

“You’re right,” Trent said. “I’ve only met with him a few times, but it has always been enjoyable. A kind and polite man; surprisingly soft spoken for someone with such power. I believe that soft-spoken way of his is what makes him so successful.”

“How do you figure?” I said. I’d never heard anyone speak of my father in such a manner.

“Your father seems to build a special rapport with all his employees, whether they’re the head chef or a busboy. I believe this tends to make for some very loyal employees. You see, the people that your father hires want to please him. They want to do a good job for him. They want his approval.”

I nodded. “That makes sense. I never thought of it that way. Maybe more heads of companies should take a page from Mr. Lee.”

“Well, he certainly has had plenty of experience from which to learn about boss/employee relations. I mean, this man is a pioneer in the restaurant industry. Did you know that he began working in a restaurant when he was just a boy?”

I shook my head.

“I think he was seven or eight when he started, and over the years he learned how to do everything. No job was too big or small for him. He washed pots and pans. He chopped lettuce. He hand stretched noodles. And for one of his restaurants in Taiwan, he even appeared in the television commercial.”

I remembered that commercial and smiled. It hadn’t been my father’s idea, and he wasn’t thrilled with the prospect of appearing on television. However, the ad had been a success. People absolutely loved him.

“Everyone could learn a thing or two from him,” Trent went on. “If you have the chance to meet him, start a conversation. You’re bound to learn something, even if you only speak to him for a brief moment. He’s a leader like no other.”

I couldn’t help but smile. Hearing such glorious praise of my father made me happier than I would have thought.

“Speaking of leadership,” he said. “What are you looking for in our Executive Chef?

“Needless to say, someone who knows their way around a kitchen. Technique is good, but a talent for flavors and textures and plating is important, too. Our candidate has to be hard-working, with a capacity to lead with a firm yet fair hand, all while be able to work as part of a team; a creative team.”

“Good,” he said.

“So, when we meet and interview these potential chefs, how are we going to assess their ability to create tasty Asian dishes; Asian fusion to be more precise.”

I cocked my head to the side and looked at him. “What exactly do you know about Asian cuisine? I mean, what brought you to manage a restaurant that specializes in Asian food?”

He chuckled. “Fair question.”

“I didn’t mean any offence, I just...”

“No, of course not. Like I said, fair question. You see, I grew up in Asia.”

I was genuinely surprised. “Really? Where? What country?”

“Vietnam at first,” he said as he sat back and revisited his childhood. “My father worked as Head Chef for The Orchid House at the Intercontinental Hotel Chain in Eastern Asia. We moved around a lot, my mother and I following him as he worked his way up; Thailand, Singapore, Japan.” His eyes gleamed with joy. “I can tell you that I had a very interesting, not to mention tasty, childhood. When I was fifteen, I worked alongside him in Singapore. I loved it.”

“I’m sorry for being so surprised,” I said.

“Yeah,” he said with a wry grin. “I guess the blond hair and blue eyes makes me look more like a beach bum than a connoisseur of Asian cuisine.”

“I guess I’m guilty of stereotyping you a bit.”

He smiled. “What about you? I don’t want to stereotype you in return, but...”

“...my connection to Asian food is obvious?” I finished for him, a playful grin on my lips. “Don’t worry. I know about and fully embrace my Asian features. And yes, the link to Asian cuisine is as obvious as my heritage.”

“Have you been... I mean, to Asia?”

I nodded. “I’ve traveled extensively throughout, as a child with family, and later solo. I’ve tasted food from virtually everywhere between China and Malaysia. However, unlike you, I grew up here, in America. My hands-on knowledge of Asian cuisine is limited to times in the kitchen with my grandmother.” It was only a little fib.

“Cooking with grandmothers is always a learning experience,” he said.

“But you; you’re practically an Asian native.”

“Indeed,” he said with a laugh. “A blonde native.”

I chuckled. “Unlike you, my cultural and culinary references are almost entirely American.”

“That’s not a bad place to start.”

“And I bet those baby blues really caught women’s eyes out there.”

He blushed and seemed genuinely embarrassed.

“Tell me, did you learn any of the languages while you were living out there; Mandarin, Thai, Japanese?”

“Mostly Japanese,” he said. “Just enough to be able to hold a simple conversation with someone who doesn’t speak too fast. Then a bit of Mandarin and just a few Thai words.”

“I’m so impressed,” I said. “You must miss it horribly. Asia is so beautiful.”

“I try to go... at least once a year. Last time I went I spent three weeks in southern Thailand; good food, great beaches and interesting island hopping.”

“What about your family? Are they still out there?”

“No. We all came back here about four years ago. First to New York, then a year in Chicago, and finally here. Then I was hired to run Ginger and I knew I’d found my place. After all, with a place like Ginger, I get a taste of Asia. I couldn’t ask for a better gig.”

“Hmm,” I said with a chuckle. “I like that. In fact, I love that.”

“What? What do you love?”

“What you just said. ‘Ginger; get a taste of Asia’. What a great slogan.”

He smiled. “It’s yours if you want it.” He clapped his hands and stood. “Talk of all this Asian food has me a little hungry. How about you?”

“Starving,” I said. “What do you suggest?”

“How about we grab some lunch and come back and continue working on a full stomach?”

“Great.Where?”

“There’s an Asian fusion place about half an hour from here. How about we go and scope out the competition, all while enjoying a delicious meal, of course?”

“Sounds a little devious, but I like it. Let’s go.”

He drove us out there, all while telling me about the area. Once at the restaurant, we were seated at the back.

“Cute,” I said of the simple décor.

“Adequate, I would say,” Trent countered.

I ordered a noodle bowl while he tried the Asian salad.

“This is good,” he said after his first bite. “Looks like we’re going to have some stiff competition.”

My noodles were tasty as well, but I knew we could do better.

“So, tell me, Trent, what was it like growing up blond and blue eyed in Japan.”

“There were highs and lows. At school, most kids saw me as some sort of oddity and one kid once tried to turn my hair black with fingerpaint.”

“Oh, my,” I said with a snicker.

“Yeah. My mother didn’t think it was funny. She had to take me outside and hose me off. Black water trickled down my body leaving nasty streaks. It was kind of horrible. The paint had dried and was caked in areas. I spent the rest of the week with dull blond hair with splotchy patches of dishwater gray.” He laughed at the memory.

“That was really nasty.”

“Ah,” he said with a dismissive wave. “I had fun.”

“What did you enjoy the most about Asia? Did you ever have the chance to take in the sights?”

He nodded. “The most memorable were the temples in Thailand. I was about eighteen at the time and kind of jaded... well, I was hard to impress... you know, acting cool... like I’d seen everything... like I knew everything. Anyway, I was blown away. Each temple was more spectacular than the last.”

I nodded. “I know what you mean. I still remember virtually every detail of the blue temple. I was mesmerized by it.

He smiled knowingly.

“Excuse me,” the server said as he came up to the table. “Not that I want to rush you out, but... well, would you like to order anything from the dinner menu?”

“The dinner... huh?” I said. I looked at my watch. “Oh, my God. Look at the time. Oh, Trent. We have to go back and get to work.”

“I do apologize,” Trent told the server as he stood. “No. We won’t be staying for dinner.” He pulled a few bills out of his wallet and handed them to the man.

We headed out to his car.

“I am so sorry for keeping you so late,” he said.

“I’m as much to blame as you are,” I said. “I completely lost track of time. I really find you fascinating, and I enjoyed hearing all your stories.”

The drive back to Ginger was slow and quiet.

“I like this,” Trent said as we neared the restaurant.

“What’s that?”

“This comfortable silence.” He glanced at me. “I’m used to being around people who feel the need to talk all the time... whether they have anything to say or not. I think most people are uncomfortable with silence.”

He pulled into the parking lot and killed the engine.

“Damn,” he said suddenly. “Am I being presumptuous. I mean... were you uncomfortable? Oh, crap. Please don’t tell me that you’re one of those people that I was just criticizing.”

I laughed. “No. Don’t worry. I was quite comfortable in the easy silence you afforded me.”

He let out a relieved chuckle. “Oh. Good.” He opened the car door and got out. “For a minute there... I thought I’d really put my foot in my mouth.”

I followed him to the door which he unlocked and gallantly opened for me.

“I do hope you’re not offended by my holding the door for you. It’s not a show of power over you. Just a simple courtesy I would offer anyone... even another man.”

Again, I laughed. “Don’t worry about it. Come on. Let’s get to work.”

We entered the restaurant, but Trent stopped just inside and looked around.

“What are you looking at?” I said.

“Just comparing what I see here to what we just visited. Don’t get me wrong. I really don’t want to knock that place but... well... look at this.”

“It is pretty cool.”

“And you can’t beat that view,” he added.

I walked up to one of the windows that offered a view a little more to the south. “You’re right. This can’t be beat.”

He came up behind me and took a firm hold of my shoulders as he leaned in to smell my hair. I stood still for a moment, not sure what to make of his move.

“Every day since I started working here, I come and stand at this window and look out and realize what a lucky man I am.”

“I can see why,” I whispered. I swallowed loudly... a certain discomfort that I couldn’t explain.

“I’m sorry,” he said as he released me and backed away. “Believe me. I’m not the type of man who is usually so forward.” He looked into my eyes, delving deep, searching. “I’m not quite sure what it is about you but... you draw me in.”

“And you’re not so bad yourself. You’re a very intriguing man.”

He grinned. “You mean for a blond haired, blue eyed Asian?”

I offered him an inviting smile and he responded with a warm, chaste kiss. I was surprised by the softness of his lips, but equally surprised by the all too brief touch.

He backed away and looked at me. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice hoarse and low. “Was that okay? I mean, can I kiss you?”

It was my turn to respond with a kiss that was just as chaste as his, but only for a moment. He quickly pulled me in, holding me tight and pressing me against him. His tongue slipped into my mouth and my entire body was suddenly electrified. I felt more alive than I ever had.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured through the kiss. His hands busied themselves with the removal of my jacket and then the unbuttoning of my blouse.

I felt strange, wanting more yet uncertain of what was to come.

He opened my blouse and pulled away from the kiss to gaze down upon my modest breasts cupped in my pale pink bra.

“The more I see of you, the lovelier you are.” He pulled off my blouse, then concentrated on removing my bra. With my bare breasts beckoning him, he let out a satisfied sigh.

My breasts had never been so eager for a touch, so eager for strong hands to knead them, pinch them, caress them.

To my surprise he did none of that. Instead, he lowered his head, took a nipple into his mouth and gently licked and sucked until I thought I would fall at his feet. He abandoned that nipple and turn to concentrate on the other.

“Oh, my God,” I let out through heaving breaths.

When I thought I could take no more and still remain standing, he turned me around and pressed me against the cool glass of the large window. He unclasped the top of my pants, then worked his hand down into the heated moisture that was primed and eager for his touch.

And when the touch came, when he reached the precious little nub of pleasure, an unrecognizable groan slipped out of my mouth.

Was that me?

It came again and again; a groan from every stroke of his thumb. My legs turned to jelly as every nerve ending in my body, as every blood cell and every breath was concentrated in that one tiny but oh so powerful little nub.

“Oh, my God,” I let out as my eyes popped open and I was flooded with a euphoria. “Oh, my God! Oh. Oh. Oh! My God!”

My fists clenched and sought something to hold onto while my forehead pressed against the cool glass. Trent, his body pressed against my, held me up while his mouth warmed my shoulder and neck.

“What did you...?” I whispered hoarsely. “What did you just...?” I leaned my head back into his chest. “What did you just do? What did you do to me?”

“I just wanted to please you,” he said. “You’ve done such a great job in just one day, and I wanted you to relax.”

“Relax isn’t quite the word that came to my mind,” I said with a giggle.

He pulled away and I peeled my breasts off the cool glass.

“Believe me,” he said, his gaze dipping to my breasts as I slipped my delicate bra back on. “I would like nothing more than to continue, to kiss you everywhere, lick you, caress you. But I think this is enough for now.”

My God, I thought. If he could make me feel so exquisitely good with just one finger, what would he do to me with his entire body?

“It’s late,” he finally said. “I’d better drive you back to campus.”

Buttoning my blouse, I nodded, then shrugged on my jacket.

He snickered. “Better get you back there before your boss, Kobe, flips out.”

I laughed. “He can flip out all he likes.”