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shelved space under the counters and another at the pass, where plates would be assembled.
    “Good. You’ve got plenty of refrigeration space.” He glanced around another corner and opened the door. “Great freezer. Ample storage.”
    “You can never have too much.” She smiled.
    “Hmm.” He looked as if he was fighting the urge to smile back. “What sort of flooring is this?” He stomped a boot on the surface.
    “Cork. Never slippery, easy to sweep or replace, and provides natural cushion for everyone’s feet.”
    He finally turned to stare at her, the fact that he was impressed warming his features. “You planned all this by yourself ?”
    “Mostly. A bit of help from my contractor. Sexy Sirens has a few customers in the restaurant business, and I asked their advice. The rest . . . I did my homework. I wanted everything to be right.”
    Something on his face changed, closed. His body tensed as his dark gaze skittered away. “You succeeded.”
    Damn! What had caused the warmth on his face to chill? The mention of Sexy Sirens? Deke had told her once that she wasn’t Luc’s type because he was looking for a lady . Did his avoidance mean he saw her as one small step up from a whore?
    She raised her chin. Alyssa knew men. Even if Luc was loath to admit that she was his type, she knew she made his dick twitch. It was a start.
    Now he was all business again. “What time can you have the staff here tomorrow?”
    “Noon work for you?”
    “Perfect.” He turned away.
    “You’ve already approved the menus. Anything else you need to see tonight?” She gripped the keys in her hand, wondering how to recover the mood they’d shared just minutes ago.
    Patience, she warned herself. Stick to the plan . The night was still young.

    LUC followed Alyssa to the restaurant’s empty parking lot. The ample lighting would make patrons feel secure. However, the illumination pissed him off because he could see every sway of her enticing hips as she sashayed to her car. It made him hard. Again.
    He’d driven his SUV from the strip club, mostly so he didn’t have to shut himself in a confined space with her, even for three blocks. He didn’t think he could be responsible for his actions for even that long. In Bonheur’s kitchen, the thought of laying her across one of those gleaming stainless steel counters and fucking her senseless gripped him by the throat. He should thank her for bringing up Sexy Sirens and the favors she’d likely had to give her loyal customers to obtain their advice. The thought made him grit his teeth and his dinner churn. His temper soar.
    Alyssa was a stripper, for fuck’s sake. Not the sort of woman who went without sex for two years. He’d been an idiot to believe that when she’d whispered the trembling lie as he’d tumbled her into bed three months ago. She was in the business of leading men around by their dicks. And she was good at it. He couldn’t be angry with her for being herself; she’d never pretended to be anything different. But he could—and should—be furious with himself for caring.
    Despite the lot being completely empty, he’d parked three spots from her. As he pressed his key fob to unlock the driver’s door, he watched her do the same with her black sports car. Luc fisted his hands. She’d go home now, lose that little black skirt, white tank, red bra, and fuck-me shoes. Even though she played no part in the future he craved, he itched to follow her home . . . help her out of every garment, sink down into that perfect, tight body.
    He swallowed. Keep your dick in your pants. Cook, shut up, and get the hell out of Lafayette. Seven days. Think you can find some self-control?
    A feminine shriek zipped across the lot, shattering his thoughts. Alyssa.
    Luc’s heart stuttered, and he nearly leapt over his car as he rushed across the asphalt. She backed away—right into his chest. He steadied her, palms cupping her bare shoulders.
    “What is it?” he demanded.
    Alyssa