“The space I mentioned yesterday is already occupied by a restaurant, so Mr. Schlittler will have no trouble converting it to his needs.”

“Good to know.” And even better that Bates had already scouted out the location for him and seen to all the details. “You said the tenant only had a couple of months left on the lease?”

“Yes, sir. She’s subleasing the space after that dessert bar was forced to close, and has requested her own lease. Even though you’re not going to offer it to her, I’m sure she’ll appreciate the fact you wanted to deliver the news personally.”

“If I’m not going to renew her lease, I suppose she’ll want to know why.” He shifted in his seat. Confrontations always made him edgy, but he’d learned over the years that it was better to deliver bad news in person and then point tenants to his staff to handle any of their concerns. It was messy up front, but almost always resulted in a good outcome in the end. “What’s her name again?”

“Ms. Mantovani.”

He shifted in his seat again. The Italian name resurrected his memories of Lia and how she’d murmured naughty-sounding things in that language while his tongue swirled around her sweet little nipple. His cock stiffened, and he pulled out his phone, wondering how much time would need to pass before it was safe to call her.

Bates turned into the parking garage under the building and keyed in his entry code.

Adam adjusted his tie and erased Lia from his mind. He didn’t need to go into a meeting with a tent pole in his pants.

An elevator took them from the parking garage to the lobby. This was the last building his father had commissioned, but he’d died four months before it was finished. Still, Adam saw little pieces of his father in the building, from the marble tile to the rich mahogany of the receptionist’s desk. But since it was also the first property Adam had completed as head of the family business, he’d had added his own touches to it, such as the Chihuly glass sculptures that hung from the lobby’s ceiling three stories above. If he had his choice, he’d leave the day-to-day details of the family business to Bates so he could focus on creating new properties and reviving his current ones with fresh ideas.

Bates pushed the button for the elevator that would take them to the top of the tower. The spectacular views would only enhance Amadeus’s cooking. In other words, it was perfect. He glanced at Bates and tried to read anything from the man’s stoic expression. “Did Chef Schlittler seem pleased when you mentioned this space to him?”

“Yes, sir, but he still wants to inspect it personally next week.” Then, with an uncharacteristic tug of his collar, Bates added, “Mr. Kelly, are you sure you want to evict the current tenant? Ms. Mantovani has done an outstanding job of creating a restaurant here already, and she has established this as one of the hottest reservations in town in such a short time.”

“She’s not Amadeus Schlittler.”

The elevator dinged, and the doors parted to let them enter. As the elevator zoomed to the top, Bates continued, “Perhaps it would wiser to invest in local talent rather than bring in a big name.”

“A big name will generate more interest, and therefore more money, than a relative unknown.” He tightened his hand into a fist. “This is business, Bates. Don’t let it get personal. I’ve made my mind up, and nothing is going to change it.”

“Of course, sir. I was just merely making a suggestion.”

The elevator stopped, and the doors opened into an entryway that reminded him of a Tuscan villa, right down to the cracked plaster. Not something Amadeus would like if the décor of his current restaurants was any indication. Adam’s mind immediately started calculating the cost to have it removed.

As he scanned the walls, he spotted a framed cover of last month’s Food and Wine talking about the hottest new chefs in America. And right in the center of the photo was a breaded chicken breast with an arugula salad on top. His stomach dropped. “What was the name of this restaurant again?”

“La Arietta,” Bates replied.

His mouth went dry, and his palms grew damp. Shit!

“Come along, Mr. Kelly.” Bates opened the front door to the dining room. “I expect Ms. Mantovani would like to hear your news before the lunch rush.”

The waitstaff inside froze as he and Bates entered the room. A thin man with overly-gelled black hair and a gray suit approached them. “Ah, Mr. Bates, so good to see you again.”

If the slightly feminine tone to the man’s words didn’t clue Adam into the man’s sexuality, the black eyeliner sealed the deal.

“Good to see you, too, Dax. I hope we’re catching Ms. Mantovani at a good time.”

“Please,” Dax said with a huff and jutted his hip out. “The girl never leaves this place. I’ll get her for you.”

Once Dax disappeared into the kitchen, Bates cleared his throat. “Dax is the maître d’,” he said as though that explained everything.

Adam offered a silent prayer to whatever deity might be listening that this was all just a bad dream, that this was not Lia’s restaurant.

The gods weren’t on his side.

The chef who emerged from the kitchen had the same golden brown curls, the same bright green eyes, the same luscious lips as the woman he’d almost slept with last night. Her smile faded when she saw him. “Adam, what are you doing here?”

Shit, shit, shit, shit!

Bates’s gaze travelled between them. “You two know each other?”

“We met yesterday at his mother’s lake house.”

Adam tried to form coherent words, but his mind was still populating four-letter words. How the hell did someone like Lia land one of the hottest real estate venues in Chicago?

When he continued to remain speechless, Bates stepped in. “Mr. Kelly wanted to speak to you about your lease.”

The corners of her mouth twitched higher into a nervous smile. “I’m ready to sign the renewal whenever you are. As you may have heard, business is booming here.”

It was time to end this agony as quickly as possible. “I’m not renewing your lease.”

There. He said it. Now he was ready to be damned to hell and suffer whatever punishment awaited him.

The color drained from Lia’s face. “Not renewing my lease?” Her bottom lip trembled. “Why?”

In took every ounce of strength not to take her into his arms and comfort her, but he needed to stay in control if he wanted his plan to go smoothly. “Amadeus Schlittler wants to open his restaurant here.”

Her disbelief faded into barely contained rage. The tremulous tone in her voice revealed how hard she fought not to scream at him. “You’re evicting me for him?”

“You said it yourself last night—I’d be a fool to let this opportunity slip through my fingers.” The stark emotion of his words rattled him. He sounded like a complete dick.

Her nostrils flared and the bottom lid of her right eye twitched, but she remained rigidly still otherwise. Her mouth opened and snapped shut several times. Finally she said, “Well, I have two months left on my sublease, and I’m not leaving until then.”

Lia spun around on her heel and marched into the kitchen, her back and arms still ramrod straight. Her flamboyant maître d’ backpedaled several feet before following her. The rest of the wait staff all glared at him as though he’d just kicked the crutch out from under Tiny Tim.

The room temperature seemed to have jumped twenty degrees too high for his comfort. “Let’s go, Bates.”

“Yes, Mr. Kelly.” He waited until they were safely in the elevator before saying, “I take it you were unaware she was your tenant.”

“Completely unaware. I don’t remember her name on the lease.” If he’d known that, he would have stayed the hell away from her last night. Rule number one was never to mix business with pleasure, and he’d already more than overstepped that boundary.

“It was a sublease, sir. And are still certain you want to evict her in favor of Mr. Schlittler?”

Doubt wormed through him, making him pause a second. “What’s done is done, Bates. The Schlittler deal is contingent on him getting this space. He’s the chef my investors want and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

Bates cleared his throat again. “That’s a pity, sir. Ms. Mantovani has proven to be an ideal tenant.”

And one helluva kisser, but that didn’t change things. “Please inform Mr. Schlittler that the space will be his on the first of next month.”

* * *

Lia barged straight through the kitchen and into her office. Her lungs burned for air, and her chest heaved at an unnatural rate. A sob choked her throat. What the hell just happened?

Julie, her sous chef, peeked in. Worry replaced her normally cheerful smile. “Dax, honey, get Lia a shot of grappa.”

Lia opened her mouth to tell Julie that wasn’t necessary but instead what came out was, “That fucking asshole!”

“Uh-oh, better make that two shots of grappa.” Julie came in and closed the door behind her. “Calm down, sweetie, and tell me what’s going on.”

Lia sank down onto her desk chair and pressed her palms against her eyes. “I can’t believe I almost slept with him.”

“Ooh, sounds like I’m just in time for the juicy details.” Dax set two glasses on her desk. “Are you talking about Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome?”

Julie popped him with the back of her hand. “This is serious. Now, start from the beginning, Lia.”

“You know how my mom auctioned off a meal cooked by me last month at the charity thing? Well, the winner was Adam’s mom.”

“And Adam is that fine-looking specimen in a suit?” Dax practically drooled. “So did dessert take on a whole different meaning? Not that I blame you.”

“After dinner, he took me out on the boat, and....” As angry as she was at him, her sex still clenched when she remembered last night. “Well, one thing led to another.”

Julie sat down on the desk and handed her the first shot. “You said you almost slept with him—what kept you from going all the way?”

“A police officer with a very bright spotlight.” Lia took the glass and downed the bitter liquor in a single gulp. It matched her mood. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he was trying to seduce me so I wouldn’t be so upset when he dropped this bomb on me.”

“Speaking from a guy’s perspective, you’ve got it all backward. You drop the bomb first, then offer the condolence sex.” Dax nudged the second glass of grappa toward her. “But let’s look on the bright side—you still have an ace up your sleeve.”

Lia took a sip, letting the fiery grappa burn its way down into her stomach and calm her anger. “What do you mean? You heard him—he’s kicking me out for Amadeus Schlittler.”

“Yes, but you have the one thing Amadeus Schlittler doesn’t have.” Dax wrapped his arm around her shoulder and hugged her. “Well, three things, if you count your tits.”

Julie puckered her mouth like she’d just bit into a lemon. “You did not just go there.”

“Oh, yes, I did.” Dax snapped his fingers in front of Julie’s face. “If Lia wants to keep this place, then she needs to go to Mr. Suit and work it.”

Lia slammed her glass on the desk. “I’m not going to stoop to that level. If Adam wants to shut down La Arietta and kick me out, then fine. But I’m not going to sleep with him to keep this location.”

“I’ll sleep with him,” Dax volunteered. “I don’t pretend to have any morals as far as hot men are concerned.”

“You are such a slut.” Julie gave Dax a playful shove. “But seriously though, have you thought about using your feminine wiles to your advantage? I mean he seemed to be into you last night, right?”

Lia nodded, the irony of last night’s events mocking her. “He even asked for my phone number.”

“Then maybe when he calls, you let him know how much this restaurant means to you. Win him over to your side. Flirt, if you need to.”

“Suck his dick, if you need to,” Dax said with a grin, earning another smack from Julie.

Lia massaged her temples. “I love La Arietta, but I’m not going to stoop to prostitution to keep her. Besides, Adam is a businessman. The only way I’m going to change his mind is to show him that I’d do a better job of increasing his bottom line than Amadeus Schlittler.”

“And if you need help grabbing his bottom line, I’ll be more than happy to assist.” Dax hugged her again, growing serious. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m so sorry you’re having to deal with this. What can I do to help?”

Lia stood up and adjusted her chef’s jacket. “Make sure that we’re booked to maximum capacity every night. If he sees a line out the door, then he’ll know we’re making a profit.”