Free Guilty Pleasures by Cathy Yardley

right?” Bob’s tone was falsely cheerful, and Nick noticed that the offer of “building up buzz” was not repeated. “And you’ll get past this. Hell, I’d offer you a job myself, only…” Bob shifted his weight nervously from foot to foot. “You understand.”
    â€œYeah. I understand.” Nick tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice, but a drop still crept in.
    â€œWell…” Bob looked away, and Nick could tell he was sorry he’d even asked. “I’ve got to pick up some stuff for tomorrow. You should stop by the restaurant some time. Don’t be a stranger.”
    Nick quirked an eyebrow at him. “Really?”
    â€œSure.” Bob smiled genially and held out his hand. “I’ll buy you dinner. See you around.”
    Nick shook his hand, then gritted his teeth as Bob wandered back out into the crowd of pedestrian traffic. It was all he could do not to crush the almond brittle he was holding.
    It was one thing to be targeted, taunted, and humiliated, he thought. He’d put up with that all his life.
    But pitied…
    Nick gritted his teeth. He couldn’t stand for that.
    He started purchasing in earnest, his mind going into overdrive with possibilities. He could picture Guilty Pleasures in his head, not as the slow, third-rate restaurant it was now, but filled with people, getting four star reviews.
    Getting his name out.
    He purchased ingredients, his mind full of grim determination. His thoughts of Mari’s sensual delights were crowded out of his mind by more pressing matters.
    Lust was one thing, he thought.
    Reputation…now, that was forever.
    Â 
    M ARI SHOWED UP AT Nick’s house that night around nine-forty-five. The restaurant had had virtually no business…it was the slowest she’d seen it since the first week they opened, and only drove home the fact that she had to do something, soon. She’d already mentioned in passing to Lindsay that if she wanted to get that critic in, Mari would definitely be open to the possibility.
    At this point, even bad word of mouth was better than this slow, silent dying. The downside to all this was, she now had a combination of tense, stress-filled desperation, and an excess of nervous energy.
    This was how you got in trouble with Nick the last time.
    But she wasn’t going to repeat last Sunday’s mistake. She’d kept her work clothes on, deliberately not wearing anything that might be construed as seductive. She had her notebook with her. She got the strong feeling that he would try to seduce her again, and while part of her body was more than willing—in fact, was wanting—to let him try, her logical mind was standing at the fore today.
    She wasn’t going to bury her fear in sex. She was going to focus, get this menu done, and get out. That was all.
    She walked up the steps that led to his front door, and knocked. After a moment, he answered. He was wearing a pair of low-slung jeans and a crisp white T-shirt that already had signs of food on it. His eyes looked unfocused.
    â€œGood. You’re here,” he said. Before she could answer this greeting, he had already turned and was heading back into his house.
    Oh, yeah. This guy’s trying to seduce you.
    Mari ignored the mocking tone of her subconscious, shutting the door and following him into his kitchen. It was larger than hers—not surprisingly—and already there were four pots bubbling away on the stove. There was also a lot of food strewn on the kitchen counters, and piled on one side of the broad oak kitchen table. On the other side, he had sketches laid out in a large notepad, with a scrawling handwriting not unlike her own. She stared, fascinated.
    â€œHow long have you been at this?”
    â€œHuh? Oh. Since about four today,” he said, goingback and stirring something in one of the pots. “I’ve got some ideas, but I think we’ve got a long way to