At Your Service (Silhouette Desire) Read Free Page A

In fact, she’d be surprised if he had much of a system at all set up yet.
    But she hadn’t stuck around to ask him if he would be able to find fill-in staff for tonight’s shift, and if so, how many people he might be able to dig up.
    Worst case scenario, she imagined, would have her greeting people at the door, seating them, taking orders, serving drinks and food, clearing tables and washing dishes in the kitchen. As long as he didn’t expect her to cook, they might actually stumble their way through the evening intact.
    Just in case, though, she selected clothes that looked quietly chic, yet were sturdy enough to stand being splashed by or soaked in various liquids and solids. Black, straight-cut pants that wouldn’t show spills. A white blouse made from a fabric absolutely not found in nature, but that miraculously refused to stain—even red wine rinsed out of it with a splash of club soda. The shoes she dragged out from the bottom of the closet were black lace-ups that looked contemporary, with a short stacked heel, and had the most expensive arch support inserts on the market hidden in them.
    She hadn’t thought to bring any aprons with her from the restaurant on the day she’d fled her family and their demands. She hadn’t thought much at all that day, Grace admitted to herself. She’d simply left work, packed a bag at her condo and decided to disappear.
    And disappear she had, for the past two weeks, using the time to sit in diners and coffee bars and trying to think of a solution to her problems. But now she was running out of cash, and she knew that withdrawing money from her bank account or using checks or credit cards would leave an easily followed trail.
    She’d thought it would be easy enough for her to get a job, at least a low-paying one. And here Grace laughed at herself. She’d conveniently blinded herself to the reality of life, which was that without ID or personal references, the average person on the street wasn’t going to trust her with a dime, much less a job or an apartment.
    Tyler certainly isn’t likely to allow me to stick around for long as a mystery lady, she thought.
    The stress of the day swept over her in a slowly crashing wave and she felt herself on the edge of tears for the second time that day.
    I need a nap. Just an hour nap, and then I can figure out a way to make him keep me on. He wouldn’t be the first restaurant owner to pay staff under the table.
    She stretched out across the top sheet on her bed and snagged her travel alarm clock off of the nightstand. Just an hour, she thought hazily, and then I’ll figure it all out. She pressed the buttons and flipped the switch that would wake her up at one o’clock in the afternoon.
    Her eyes were already closed as she fumbled the alarm back onto the nightstand. And as her brain slowly shut down, she was left with a single image floating in the last, dreamy layers of thought. The image of Tyler, the widening pools of his dark, almost-midnight eyes staring at her over her own hand as he moved his lips over her skin.
    She dreamed, as she drifted off, and in her dreams Tyler’s mouth slid from her hand to glide up her arm. His lips grazed across her shoulder and trailed slowly up to her mouth, leaving starflower kisses glowing faintly against her skin as she dreamed of them in the night. And when he left her, in her dream, the skin of her body was flushed and glowing with the light of the stars, absolutely everywhere.
     
     
    Three hours later, when she pushed open the restaurant door and stepped inside to coolness, only to stop short at the sight of Tyler, she knew she was in trouble. The incredibly sensual dreams of her afternoon nap were one thing—and a pleasure she figured she was allowed to indulge in, since it was only a dream. But here she was, damn near drooling at the sight of him, and the man had his back to her while he spoke on the phone, for crying out loud.
    “You’re staring at the back of his head, Grace. No