Her meal had never tasted better, and she wondered whether a certain sexy prep chef had anything to do with that. Thoughts of him replayed in her head as she ate, and by the time she was ready to leave, she found her eyes straying toward the doors to the kitchen. Was she really so eager to get another glimpse of the man? You’re the boss. Just go in there and check on things. You don’t need an excuse.
When she was finished, she did just that. But only because she needed to close her office and retrieve her purse, she told herself. Mr. James was hard at work chopping vegetables when she walked through, and he barely acknowledged her with a nod. There was no cocky grin this time, no heat in his gaze. No familiarity. But then she caught Ethan observing him and not bothering to hide it, so that made sense. The chef was his boss as well and was much more stern and scary than Anna. No way would anyone in his right mind invite a tongue-lashing from Ethan.
Grayson James, on the other hand, could give me a tongue-lashing of a different sort. A very welcome one.
Good God! Annoyed with herself, she went through some paperwork and studied some orders for fresh meat and vegetables. Then she left twenty minutes later, locking her office and passing through the kitchen without letting her attention stray to the object of her fantasies, and took the elevator down to the lobby.
Fatigue dragged at her as she pushed through the revolving door, and she suddenly wished she’d called a cab. But that was ridiculous for a mere five-block walk, even this late at night. At least the city never really slept, and there were cops on almost every corner this close to Times Square.
That’s what she told herself, anyway, as the bright lights of her restaurant’s block gave way to the lengthening shadows of a residential area with fewer people about. Though she was tired, her senses were on alert for any movement. Any person who didn’t belong.
So she was jolted with terror when a hand grabbed her arm and yanked her into an alley between two apartment buildings. “Hey!” she yelled. “Stop!”
Another shriek was abruptly cut off by a palm clapped over her mouth as she was pulled backward, farther into the darkness. The hand was covered by a ragged glove with the fingers cut out, because they were digging into her cheek.
Every horror story she’d ever heard about women being abducted and assaulted flashed through her mind, and she exploded in movement, fighting him like a wildcat. Twisting and bucking, she managed to make him lose his grip for a moment—just long enough to sink her teeth into the side of his hand as hard as she could through the glove’s material.
“Ahhh! Fuck!” Jerking his hand away, he shoved her back into the side of the nearest building, then spun her around and pushed her face-first into the bricks before she could glimpse his features or clothing. “Scream or bite me again and I’ll snap your pretty neck! Got it?”
She nodded, heart slamming against her rib cage. “Wh-what do you want? Money? It’s in my purse.”
“And where’s your purse?”
She jerked her head as much as she could in the direction they’d come. “Over there. I dropped it.”
“Hmm. Maybe I’ll go back for that,” he said in a low voice. “But I’m thinking the real prize is right here in my hands. Begging for a piece of this.” As emphasis, he ground his groin into her ass.
“Y-you don’t want to do this,” she said, breathless with fear. “Someone will come and you’ll be caught. Just take the money and go.”
“Nobody’s coming. Why can’t I have both?”
“People live here. You don’t want to risk jail.”
“As if guys like me care about getting sent to Club Fed. Three squares a day, exercise, reading, and TV. Hell, I could even study for a trade, which is more than I get on the street.”
“Please,” she begged as his hand began to creep under the hem of her blouse. “Don’t—”
Just then, the man’s weight vanished from her back. Before she could register why, she heard a vicious curse and the sounds of flesh hitting flesh. Spinning around, she spotted two men bounce off the wall and into some garbage cans, sending the receptacles flying and causing a loud clatter. In the dim light, she could barely make out a large man punching a slightly smaller man. The more slightly built one was dressed in a hoodie, the bigger one in jeans and a T-shirt.
She had to do something. Get help before her rescuer got hurt.
Just as she was about to turn and run, the attacker shoved the bigger man away from him and fled. He was fast, booking it down the alley and skidding around the corner. Gone, just like that. The bigger man stood under a sliver of moonlight, chest heaving, his tense stance suggesting that he was tempted to give chase. Instead, he faced her and took a couple of tentative steps.
“Ma’am? Are you all right?”
His voice was so familiar, but she was badly shaken. She could hardly think straight as she replied, “I feel sick.”
“Here, let me help you.” Taking her gently by the hand, he led her out of the alley, stooping to grab her purse on the way and hand it to her.
“Thank you,” she said.
“You’re welcome.”
Tears pricked her eyes, a testament to how frightened she’d been. She hadn’t cried in years, since she’d finally learned to swallow being a disappointment to her mother.
Her rescuer urged her back onto the sidewalk, under a streetlamp. Then he turned to speak but stopped, mouth hanging open. “Anna! I mean, Miss Claire,” he corrected himself. “My God, I can’t believe it’s you. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I— Mr. James,” she stammered in surprise. “Yes, I think so.”
As if to reassure himself, he stepped close and took her hands in his, rubbing them as though to ward off a chill. Then he turned her a bit and inspected her from every angle.
She gave a watery laugh. “Really, I’m fine.” Except for the nausea, which threatened to upset her dinner.
“You don’t look fine,” he replied, eyeing her with a concerned frown. “Just to be sure, I’m going to walk you the rest of the way home.”
“Oh, that’s not necessary.”
He shook his head. “I insist. Which way?”
“No, I mean it’s really not necessary because I live there.” She pointed to the building on the corner.
“You’re kidding! That’s where I live, too.” He smiled. “Then it’s definitely no trouble at all to see you safely to your door.”
“I don’t—”
“Please? For my peace of mind?”
He looked so handsome, so worried, that she had to smile back. “Fine. That would be nice. Thanks.”
“First, though, we should file a report. I should’ve thought right away of calling the police.”
She considered that, then blew out a breath. “I think that’ll be a waste of time. I’m not hurt and he didn’t take anything. I didn’t even get a look at him, so my input isn’t going to help much.”
“Are you sure? They can at least have it on record.”
“No. Really, I just want to get home.”
He hesitated, then relented. “I can understand that. Come on.”
Tucking her hand in his arm, he escorted her the rest of the way to their building and inside. As they crossed the spacious lobby, she briefly wondered how a lowly prep chef could afford to live in a neighborhood like this, where the apartments were so expensive. Then she remembered that he’d been a hotshot attorney of some kind, so that made sense. He’d probably socked away plenty before changing careers.
As they stepped into the elevator, his finger hovered over the number panel. “Which floor?”
“Six.”