The Sweet Spot

CHAPTER 3

AMANDA RETURNED TO the Cold Creek just in time for opening. She had gone home, showered again, and redressed. She’d redone her makeup, but hadn’t taken the time to blow-dry her hair again, and the result was curly instead of straight, not the sophisticated look she usually went for, but it would have to do. While at home, she also rechecked the reservation list from her own computer and saw that one of the parties was friends of her parents. After a slightly awkward phone call on her end and the promise of their next meal being on the house, the couple politely gave up their reservation to accommodate the guests Amanda had begun to refer to as “the nuisances.” She didn’t bother telling anyone about the phone call that resulted in the order to roll out the red carpet; her being distracted by it was bad enough. It was probably an actor; they usually came with the general sense the world revolved around them. Maybe it was a politician, though that was unlikely. Her parents were well-connected, and the reservation call would have reflected that. Odds were it wasn’t a musician, which was something to be grateful for, since they tended to bring entourages.

Alan Shaw arrived promptly at six fifty. He was everything Amanda imagined he would be, right down to his overpriced suit, his prematurely receding hairline, and his creepy, flagrant once-over, although he looked younger than she imagined. She didn’t see any sign of a cigar. She seated him at a booth in a quiet back corner, which seemed to meet with his approval. He dismissed her with the order of a Red Bull and vodka while pulling out his smart phone. She was more than happy to remove herself from his proximity, not bothering to tell him she’d send over his server. Amanda went back to the podium to seat another party after a quick stop at the bar to give Eric the drink order. Her smile started feeling forced and unnatural. Fussy customers she could handle; feeling manipulated by obnoxious superiority in her own establishment was nothing new, either. But today was a different story. The timing was awful and only added to the general feeling of malaise that always accompanied the cosmic forces of the world determined to keep her in check. She spent the next ten minutes awaiting the arrival of the man she had spent the better part of the afternoon thinking of as “the king.”

She had no idea just how close to the truth she was.

It started precisely at seven o’clock, with a flurry of activity at the entrance. Patrons waiting for the rest of their parties to arrive and those lingering with their good-byes cleared a path when three exceedingly large figures seemed to fill all the remaining space at the front of the restaurant. Two of the men looked nearly identical. Both were burly and clean-shaven with short hair, matching blue suits, and serious expressions.

The third man was instantly recognizable.

His charisma had entered the room ten seconds before he did, branching out to everyone within its vicinity. And at its nexus was well over six feet of stacked muscle and magnetism presented casually in gray tailored slacks and a teal cashmere sweater. The collar of a button-down shirt peeked politely from beneath the sweater, the ensemble completed with thousand-dollar Louis Vuitton shoes. His movie-star good looks only added to it, from the perfectly mussed wheat blond hair right down to the cleft in his chiseled chin. It was a heady combination and the room began to buzz.

Great Caesar’s Ghost! The Golden Boy is hot and then some. It was Amanda’s automatic response to whenever he was mentioned in any capacity. It was the usual response of Nicki, too. Baseball was a mandatory tradition that started when Amanda was in grammar school. Summer in Jersey just isn’t summer if you don’t catch at least one baseball game. Nicki had had no problem jumping on that bandwagon, and the two of them went once a year, always to a Kings game. There may have even been a whistle or two in his direction from their seats once he hit the roster when they were in attendance. Other variations on the theme were: steamy hot, fig-leaf-wearing-in-the-garden hot, and fry-an-egg-on-his-left-pec hot. Amanda surmised sunglasses would have been a bit over the top, and as he moved away from the men who stood on either side of him, she waited for him to approach.

“Hi. I’m Chase Walker,” he said when he reached her.

Amanda stared at him for a moment. He didn’t say it in a way that was different from anyone else making an introduction would. But her rotten day dictated she heard him announcing his arrival as the final straw. It reeked of ego. Everyone on the planet knew who he was, even if they didn’t know a thing about baseball. He was one of those extraordinary specimens that became a national treasure, probably against the greater good. You couldn’t swing a dead cat without hitting something that had Chase Walker’s face on it. He probably just liked to hear the sound of his own name, even if he was the one having to say it. And in that moment, for reasons she couldn’t begin to explain, she chose to stand up for every person who was ever forced to cater to the perpetually pampered. Even on the best day of her life, people like him were difficult for her to take. She had the one luxury of not having to worry about getting fired; she was the boss. Her day already stank; she might as well make it memorable. When he and his goons left in a huff, she could have the added pleasure of tossing Alan Shaw out on his keister. She looked from one security guard to the other and then tilted her head at him, looking thoughtful.

“Mr. Walker, has anyone ever told you that your name is an oxymoron?” she asked, and then blinked at him with the subtle dare that he wouldn’t make the connection and she’d have to explain.

He raised his eyebrows before breaking out into the most boyishly genuine smile she had ever seen.

“Not since the fifth grade.” He chuckled, playing right into her observation. “Very funny, can’t really chase anyone when you’re a walker. Thanks for bringing it up. My therapist can probably start picking out his new car now.”

His smile was disarming and his voice even more so. Both were warm and easy and terribly engaging. His reaction was completely unexpected. Suddenly she felt ashamed for acting so immature. He saw through her thinly veiled and well-mannered route into calling him a moron, and quick-wittedly called her out on it. He didn’t seem insulted, nor did he seem ready to leave. She started to blush.

Chase studied her briefly before leaning back a bit and turning his head. One of the suits immediately rushed over, and he whispered something in the suit’s ear. The man nodded and the two security guards left the building. Then he straightened and returned his attention to Amanda. He drew his head across the podium and closer to hers. Because of his height, he could’ve come clear across it and breathed in her ear, but he stopped just short of it. “I’m guessing my agent worked you over pretty good?” he said pleasantly. “Because back in fifth grade, I think I beat that kid up on the playground. I’d hate to think you really want to pick a fight.”

“He does seem to bring out the worst in people,” she murmured, trying to stand her ground and not apologize, but also feeling guiltier for having been so antagonistic and unprofessional. He was making her feel downright childish.

“He’s a legend in his own mind,” he whispered in her ear, all mirth and amusement. “He bullies me into bringing the security. He can be insufferable. But he acts that way so I don’t have to. Can we start over?”

Amanda looked up into his sparkling green eyes and felt her breath catch. He was already towering over her and had moved in so close. His subtle hint of body wash surrounded by pure raw masculinity was intoxicating. It was hard to believe that Chase Walker could be bullied by anyone. And he was going out of his way to make her comfortable. He was a perfect gentleman. She blinked up at him, flabbergasted again, but this time for entirely different reasons.

“What’s your name, darlin’?” His casual use of an arbitrary endearment had the opposite effect of his agent’s use of one. It sounded warm and smooth, like honey.

“I’m Amanda Cole,” she said, instantly playing along and extending her perfectly manicured hand with a more relaxed smile. “Welcome to the Cold Creek Grille, Mr. Walker. Your party is already waiting.”

Then her hand completely disappeared within the grip of his. His hand was huge, in keeping with the rest of him. It was also surprisingly gentle.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Amanda. Please call me Chase,” he replied, refraining from telling her that her smile was radiant for fear it would sound condescending, since they had already started off on the wrong foot. In fact, she was beautiful in general. As soon as he’d walked in, he was drawn to her. Her big round eyes were so blue, her lashes long and inviting. Such contrast with the long ebony curls that framed her face. She had a pert little nose that looked adorable even when she’d wrinkled it up just prior to insulting him moments before. He could picture himself nibbling on her rosy bottom lip. He was surprised by the burst of kinetic energy, brought on just by placing her hand in his. She must’ve felt it too, because as soon as he lightened up on his grip, she quickly pulled her hand away and turned to lead him to his table.

Amanda Cole wasn’t thin, but instead was robust and buxom. She had curves, lots of them, and in all the right places, he noted. Making sure she was several steps ahead of him, he pulled out his phone as he walked. The action served a dual purpose. If he looked focused on something, people were less likely to try to stop him. It was all about avoiding eye contact.

He could also discreetly look her up and down without looking like a letch as he followed behind her. And since it was his specialty, he could tell in one sweeping glance that beneath the lines of her royal-blue Halston dress, Amanda Cole was a brick house. Right down to her bodacious booty, which he guesstimated how much of his hand could cover in one shot. She had certainly given him reason to want to. She had a brat switch, and he had tripped it the minute she saw him. If she had spoken any louder, she would’ve cut him to the quick in front of half a dozen people, including his own employees. But she had been careful to make sure he was the only one to hear it. She wasn’t flirting with him, though. She had reverted back to trying to act professional and move things along. Thanks to his agent, she’d probably spent the afternoon hating him. In too short a stroll, they arrived at the booth where Alan Shaw was waiting, and Chase took a seat. She wished them both a lovely dinner and promptly removed herself. He allowed himself one more thorough blink as she walked away.

“You had a good day,” Alan said, taking another swallow of his drink as Chase settled into his side of the booth.

“All my days are good,” Chase replied, gearing up for the onslaught that always came from dinner with Alan Shaw. He picked up his menu as Alan snapped his fingers, even though Nicki was already hurrying over.

“Mr. Walker,” Nicki tried to stifle the giggling. “What can I get you to drink?”

“Please call me Chase,” he said, thinking that that particular phrase was starting to sound like a broken record. “And I’ll take a Heineken.”

“Right away . . . Chase.” Nicki giggled and scurried off.

“I should have ordered a waiter,” Alan muttered before waving his own glass and calling after her, “I’ll take another one, too.”

“Nice play on words. Seems there’s a bit of that going around,” Chase commented dryly, casting another glance at Amanda. “I could have done without you pissing off the hostess. If she wasn’t so cute and you weren’t so pushy, I’d seriously consider complaining.”

Alan turned his head briefly to follow Chase’s gaze back to the front of the restaurant.

“That’s not the hostess,” Alan said indifferently. “She owns the place. She has no trouble turning on the bitch, but I hear the food is excellent.”

Chase immediately bristled at the use of the word bitch to describe any woman, much less the one whom he currently had his eye on. But if that was as bad as Alan got in his description of women this evening, he’d consider it a win. “Know anything else about her?”

“Oh, great,” Shaw griped. “I can tell already where this is going. If I answer your question, can we get down to business?”

Chase held up his hand. “Scout’s honor.”

“She’s got a rich daddy.”

“Daddy as in sugar?” Chase asked, feeling the disappointment of such a beauty going home to some shriveled-up geezer. But it would explain why she was so cantankerous.

“Daddy as in father,” Alan clarified and Chase brightened.

“There’s a rumor that he’s going after next year’s senate seat, and her mother is Essex County DA,” Alan continued. “And she’s single, which I’m sure is the only thing you really want to know anyway.”

So she had breeding, Chase thought, not bothering to confirm or deny. It was best not to get too familiar with your agent. Alan Shaw was business. His glance swept one more time in her direction. Amanda Cole looked to be all pleasure. “How do you find out all this stuff?”

“I’m only as good as the knowledge I hold,” Shaw scoffed.

“You always sound so shady,” Chase said, “like you just came up with something from the seedy underbelly.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Alan remarked before switching topics. “Where’s your security?”

“I told them to go get my car and bring it back. The crowd doesn’t look too rowdy here and I want to take off as soon as we’re done.”

“Take off where?” Alan questioned suspiciously.

“Wherever I feel like,” Chase replied easily, knowing it would aggravate him further. “It’s my day off tomorrow.”

“When are you going to learn you can’t just venture off alone anymore?”

“Watch me,” Chase said. “I don’t have to always live in a bubble. And I like it when you don’t know where I am, it keeps you on your toes. What’s the agenda this evening?”

“I heard from Trojan again—” Alan began.

“I told you, I’m not doing a condom ad,” Chase cut him off heatedly. “And if that’s our only business tonight, I’m leaving right now.”

“Relax, it’s not.” Alan was quick to defuse the mounting tension before adding, “but it’s an incredible amount of money. And they don’t just sell condoms.”

Chase didn’t bother responding and leaned back against the booth, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow, signifying there would be no further discussion on the topic.

Nicki returned with their drinks, took their order, and left to go place it.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Nicki gushed to Amanda, who was standing with Eric at the bar. “I’ve never been so happy to wait on someone in my life. He called me darlin’. It sounded like something out of one of those Hallmark movies.”

Amanda rolled her eyes and considered telling her he had called her the same thing. But then she might end up confessing that, at least for a moment, it had produced the same giddy effect. It also proved that it was a term he probably threw out to countless women. But Nicki was probably just his type: perky, freewheeling, and always ready for her close-up. If he played his cards right, he could be banging with her before daybreak.

“He looks like he’s made of plastic. Why on earth would you want to get involved with someone who’s more Ken doll than actual person?” Amanda asked.

“Do you know what someone like Chase Walker could do for my career?” Nicki couldn’t contain her excitement.

“Make you forget all about it?” Amanda quipped, and Eric snickered. “Let me guess, they both want steak?”

“How did you know?” Nicki asked.

“A little bird told me,” Amanda replied, fully appreciating the irony.

Chase covertly studied Amanda throughout his meal. His agent droned on, and he listened for key words signaling his full attention, a trick he had learned from being pulled in too many directions at once. He watched her go about her business. She was graceful, moving fluidly from table to table. She took a vested interest in every single one, sitting down momentarily at some of them with a wholesome familiarity. She seemed diligent and serious about her work, but with an appealing smile always at the ready. Not the fake, tight smile she’d first given him, but the one that showed she knew how to work a room. He looked around the restaurant, which seated about a hundred. It was tastefully decorated without being ostentatious. There was a cozy ambiance without it being too dark. It was also spotless. And the employees working seemed relaxed and happy enough to be there. It proved she knew how to run a smooth operation. It all added up to the fact that Amanda Cole had gotten his attention.

Chase also noticed that she left his table alone. The service was still impeccable, just not by her. She sent an attractive waitress to fawn over him. He liked that she wasn’t impressed by him, even if his ego did take a hit. She may have been fresh, but she was clearly also intelligent. She was class and sass, all perfectly packaged. Now he just needed to figure out if she was playing hard to get.

When they finished eating, Chase convinced Alan to leave with the promise that he was going to stay put for a while, have a few drinks, and let security drive him home. After a snide remark from Alan that if some tail was going to keep Chase from wandering off, he would take it and, with a leering smile in Amanda’s direction, he left. Chase then took a seat at the bar, ordered another beer, and started chatting it up with Eric. He continued to flirt with Nicki when she picked up orders. Soon customers began to approach him, camera phones in hand. Amanda tried to distance herself from it and focus on doing her job, but she could feel him watching her in between the polite conversation he made with any and all participants. He didn’t make any attempt to hide it. Whenever she glanced in his direction, he would give her a little wink, not the least bit concerned she caught him staring.

“You’re going to sit here all night and remind me of my bad manners, aren’t you?” Amanda said from behind him once the commotion had died down.

He turned around from his barstool to take her all in, appreciating what he saw. “I’m just waiting for security to come back with my car. I hope you don’t mind if I hang out.”

“They’ve been standing watch over a very nice Jaguar double-parked in front for the last half hour.”

“In that case, I’m just an oxymoron fishing for a date,” he said with a note of pure swagger.

“You know, one of those security guards is smaller than you,” she continued, deliberately ignoring his attempt to extend an invitation. “It looks sort of counterproductive.”

“He’s the one I use when women poke fun of me in public.”

“That hurt.”

“Guilty enough to join me for dinner?”

“You just ate.”

“Not tonight, tomorrow.”

“Sorry, I can’t. I have a business to run.”

“Then let’s do lunch? Or breakfast?”

“That’s a bit presumptuous, don’t you think?” she said, finding herself teasing back.

“That’s what I’m talking about. What time are we getting off?” He was so annoyingly easygoing, not to mention gorgeous.

“Sorry, I don’t date guys I can see half naked with a Google search.”

“Geez, does that leave anyone else?”

“It leaves lots of people, Mr. Walker,” she retorted snippily, as if she were engaging in a political debate. “It leaves teachers and doctors and policemen. Men who are a little choosier about whom they let into their private lives, who can go out for a hamburger without it making Page Six of the New York Post.”

“I’m about as choosy as they come when it’s about my privacy. It’s not my fault I can’t even spit dirt out of my mouth without someone taking a picture of it.”

“You really don’t spit all that much,” she mused before catching herself. Dagnabbit, it sounded like she knew too much about him. But he did have a lovely mouth.

He smiled again. “I promised my mother I would try to curb it. So you watch baseball?”

“Occasionally,” she fibbed, attempting to take another swipe at his swagger. “It’s hard to turn off Derek Jeter, he’s pretty dreamy.”

But he only grinned at her. “You can meet him at our wedding.”

“That’s laying it on a bit thick.”

“Maybe, but I’m just trying to illustrate how confident I am.”

“More like stubborn. Don’t worry, your interest in me will soon pass,” Amanda told him, disappointed that she knew she was speaking the truth, even though she wished she wasn’t. He was just killing time between models and debutantes. With the new day, this superstar would go back to his world of pomp and accolades. She wasn’t interested in the dubious distinction of sleeping with him just for claiming the honor of having done so.

“I don’t think so, angel,” he replied. “I’m a little more one-track-minded than that. All you have to do is say yes, it’ll make it easier for both of us.”

“I beg to differ, Mr. Walker,” she corrected him. “The way I see it, all I have to do is make it through to closing while dodging your cheesy advances.”

But she had been wrong. The next day, Chase came back. Soon after opening, before the dinner rush, he arrived alone, wearing jeans and a button-down with his shirttail out. He’d dressed it up with an expensive-looking, soft gray leather vest that his biceps swelled out of. He took the same seat he had at the bar the night before. Then he proceeded to stay until closing.

“This is ridiculous,” Amanda told him a little after eight, after he’d been there for more than three hours. She wanted to sound annoyed, but was secretly flattered. Not only was he pleasant and wonderful to look at, but he was also just so good with the banter. They had developed an easy rapport that she was beginning to find engaging.

“I know.” Chase even managed to gripe with delight. “I can’t believe you’re making me do this. At least I’m getting the lowdown on you.”

Eric took that precise moment to find his way to the other end of the bar after an apologetic shrug and a sheepish “It was all good.” Amanda crossed her arms over her chest and narrowed her eyes at him as he walked away before turning back to Chase.

“Their opinions could be biased. They work for me.”

“Then you better let me take you out so I can draw my own conclusions. If you’d just give me your digits, I’d be on my way.”

“Then what?” she asked him.

“You’re going to have to say yes to find out,” he said, smiling.

“And if I don’t?”

“Then I’m going to have to keep coming back here until I change your mind.”

Amanda laughed. “I almost want to see that.”

“Be careful what you wish for,” he warned her.

And after politely rebuffing him again, Chase went about the business of doing just that. Every day he was in town, he found his way to the Cold Creek Grille. She started keeping his table open, and he began having all his dinners there. He sometimes dined with his security, and sometimes they discreetly sat at the bar or a nearby table while he hosted teammates or held other meetings. Kings games and their replays became a staple on the bar’s television.

Chase got to meet Amanda’s parents one night, when they came in after hearing the rumor that Amanda had an unconventional celebrity stalker. Chase had finished eating, but invited them for dessert, fully prepared to plead his case to the judge and the DA. They joined him, giving him a brief and prudent once-over. They were sophisticated and well put together, the DA in a no-nonsense business suit straight out of the courtroom; the judge’s attire straight off the golf course. They spoke about philanthropy and baseball, and Chase asked permission to date their daughter.

“Mr. Walker,” Catherine Cole said in the same sassy tone Amanda used when addressing him by his formal name. What followed it was usually direct and pointed. And the same was true of her mother, even if she was impressed by his candor and manners. “My daughter is a grown woman, she makes her own decisions.”

“Of course, ma’am,” he said, laughing nervously. “But I was really hoping that I could get you to put in a good word.”

Judge Rupert Cole chuckled with humor from across the table. Chase had integrity and humility, traits that were hard to fake if insincere. “Just remember, I can get a restraining order against you at a moment’s notice.”

“She’s hasn’t called the police on me yet, sir.”

And when the verdict came in, they didn’t think Amanda was going to. She was just being cautious, as they agreed she had reason to be. It didn’t stop her parents from telling her they liked him.