Page 12 of Sizzle
“Good,” she says. “That’ll save us some time. I focused on the ingredients I knew you must have on hand for your current menu, but if we’re going to brainstorm further, I’ll need to see your actual inventory. Recipes, too, if I may.”
I scan the list once, then again, paying attention the second time. Several long moments pass.
“Wow.”
“Thank you,” she says. “Now I understand my lack of commercial experience might be a deterrent.”
I lift the folder slightly, hoping it’ll hide the heat I feel creeping across my face.
“But I can tell you without a doubt that, based on what I’ve seen so far, you’ll have no trouble implementing a new segment to your menu if you choose to go forward with this plan.”
A second copy of the list I’m holding appears and Joelle begins to go through each dish on her list, explaining her reasoning, asking for details about ingredients and other materials we keep.
“This is good,” I say when she’s finished what was clearly a practiced presentation. “This is great, actually. You’ve already handed me everything I asked for.”
“You could look at it that way,” she says, looking a little panicked. “But if you’re interested in developing a proper new menu, we ought to spend time collaborating on other ideas now that I have more information to go on.”
There’s a thought. We’ll have to test these dishes anyway before rolling anything out. As much as I’d planned to send her away right off, she’s got a point.
“We haven’t discussed your compensation,” I say. She’d agreed to the number I mentioned on the phone, but it hadn’t come up yet so far this morning.
She looks at me then and I almost don’t hear her next words. It’s the first time she’s looked me square in the eye since we sat down and if I thought she was pretty in profile, it’s nothing compared to the radiance coming off of her now. The booth is small, almost intimate. It hadn’t seemed that way before, but now I know if I wanted to, I could reach out and tuck an errant curl behind her ear.
“The number you quoted is acceptable,” she says quietly.
“But?” Because there’s obviously one in here somewhere.
“But I’d like to propose a counteroffer.”
I nod. It can’t hurt to listen, I guess.
“Hire me.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Hire me,” she says. I hear a tremor in her voice and it makes me want to hug her. God, just wait ‘til Alex meets her. He’ll go nuts for the girl-next-door thing she’s got going on.
I mean, not that I’d try to fix them up or anything. That’d be kind of weird. But he’d totally go for her, I know it.
“I know I don’t have the usual experience,” she’s saying, those beautiful brown eyes aimed at the table once more. “But I know I can bring something new to the table, so to speak. Something you need.”
My pulse picks up.
“I can help you get want you want,” she says, glancing up at me as a pretty blush steals over her cheeks. “But rather than taking payment from you outright, I propose you hire me to work in your kitchen. I can work on the menu during my off hours and still get the work experience I need.”
I swallow hard but my voice has dropped when I speak again.
“What kind of experience do you need?”
I’m pretty sure we’re not talking about the job anymore and she knows it, too. That blush hits a high note and I can see the soft material of her sweater twitch as she gasps a little. Then her breasts rise as she takes a deep breath and I’m forced to adjust the fly of my jeans to accommodate my response.
“I need six months on your line, preferably all areas,” she says, her tone all business.
“Six months,” I echo, just to say something that isn’t, ‘Hey little girl, come sit on Daddy’s lap.’ Christ. I’m in trouble. “That’s pretty specific.”
“The culinary school I’m applying to requires six months’ professional experience before they’ll even consider my application.”
“Interesting,” I say. God, I sound like Alex. “Some of my current employees are students at The San Augustine Institute here in town.”