Afterburn

with a smile.
    We started the game. Jax was good. Really good.
    I’ve played hoops now and then. Nothing like you. Never gave it the time.
    I remembered those words of his from before, whispered into my hair while he cuddled me after sex. Clearly, he’d given it time since we parted.
    Had he done so because of me? Was I reaching by making that connection?
    Jax passed the ball and I made the shot.
    If only figuring him out were as easy.

Chapter 9
    M ONDAY WAS A day like any other, yet it felt so different. It took a lot of work to avoid thinking about Jax. At least until I got to the office.
    I arrived a half hour early, but Lei was already there. She sat at her desk, dressed in a black skirt and blazer embellished with red. Her hair was up, her red-framed glasses perched on her delicate nose. She glanced up when I stepped through the open doorway, her painted mouth set in a hard line.
    “Ian got to Isabelle over the weekend and signed her.” She pulled her glasses off.
    “ What? How did he know?”
    Lei sat back. “That’s a good question.”
    I felt a flutter of unease in my stomach. “I haven’t told a soul. No one.”
    She nodded grimly. “I believe you.”
    “Would Isabelle leverage you against Ian?”
    “It’s possible.” Leaning back, she gestured for me to settle into one of the chairs in front of her desk. “Ian is better known than I am.”
    Thanks to the Hollywood-themed eateries she’d envisioned, which Ian had stolen from her. The irony was painful.
    “But I don’t think so,” she went on. “One of the things that attracted Isabelle to working with us is that Savor is headed by a woman. Ian would’ve had to make an offer too good to refuse.”
    “I wonder what it was.”
    “I intend to find out. I’m meeting with Isabelle over lunch to see what I can coax out of her.”
    I took a seat. “I should talk to Chad. Maybe take him out to lunch.”
    “Yes, I was going to suggest that.” She studied me. “Did you see Jackson Rutledge this weekend?”
    I hesitated a split second before answering, feeling as if a trap were closing in on me. “I did,” I confessed, “but we didn’t talk business. Not even in a roundabout way.”
    “Do you trust him?”
    “I...” I frowned. I trusted him with my body. I trusted him to know how much my family meant to me. Was there anything else? “With what?”
    She smiled in a way that said she knew why I’d hesitated. “What are you going to do about him?”
    Sitting back, I let the question really sink in. I’d been fielding variations of that same query all weekend, but I hadn’t given it much thought. What was I going to do? It struck me then that I’d never done anything when it came to Jax. He decided when our relationship began and ended, where we met, and when—and how—we had sex. All along, I’d just gone with his flow.
    It was time for me to start making my own rules. Something beyond asking him to say goodbye when he decided we were over.
    “I’m not sure yet,” I answered honestly. But I was going to work on it.
    * * *
    W HEN I GOT to my desk, I called the Four Seasons and left a message at the hotel’s front desk for Chad to call me. It was still early, and I didn’t want to risk waking him up. I needed him refreshed and sharp to go over our business plans.
    Isabelle was gone. We needed a replacement. Quick.
    I looked through all my notes, considering the chefs who’d caught my attention previously. There weren’t that many who specialized in Italian, mostly because my background made it really hard to impress me. Then again, going with another Italian was problematic—it would be hard to spin Isabelle’s defection in a way that wouldn’t make the new recruit feel like a second choice.
    I tapped my pen against my jaw, thinking. “American, European...”
    Lei walked out of her office.
    “Asian!” I blurted.
    She came to a halt, her brows raised. “Excuse me?”
    I stood. “Chad represents American cooking. Inez represents European. I think we need to find someone to represent—”
    “Asian.” Her arms crossed. “Do you have any idea how hard it would be to pull together a dueling menu with that combination?”
    “Easier than convincing some chef he or she isn’t our last, desperate choice.”
    Her lips pursed. “Good point. Do you have someone in mind?”
    “David Lee.”
    Lei’s mouth curved slightly, her eyes warming with a look of approval. “He’s good, but I’m not sure he’s ready.”
    I