Page 1 of Daddy Says

Chapter One

What had she done to deserve such a gift? She’d have to thank Marcus, the maître d’, for seating Mr. Lawson and his dinner companion at her station. Once she was at the table, she waited until there was a pause in their conversation, her greeting on the tip of her tongue when the man looked up. His eyes were the most amazing color she’d ever seen… a combination of the deepest turquoise of the Caribbean and the emerald green of moss found in a tropical rainforest. “Please, tell me I might serve you.” It took the flash of his smile, the sound of a deep chuckle, and the heat she could feel flooding her face for her to realize what had just come out of her mouth. “Oh… I mean I’m here to serve…” She closed her eyes as if that would block out the reality that she couldn’t seem to keep her foot out of her mouth. God, I’m going to be so fired.

“Look at me.”

At the instruction, her eyes snapped open.

“Good, now take a breath.”

“Huh?”

Mr. Lawson’s chuckle had her flinching as she realized she obviously had not yet finished making a total fool out of herself. But the one who had spoken simply smiled and repeated his words.

“Just breathe. A nice deep breath.” He took one himself as if to demonstrate how to follow his instruction and that did the trick. By the time he took his third, Jane was mimicking his actions. After another, he nodded.

“That’s a good girl.”

How could four little words make her feel like she’d achieved some goal, and his smile felt like she’d won some sort of award?

“It is my pleasure to serve… to wait on you… Fuck!”

The smile slipped from the man’s lips, his dark head shaking a bit even as his eyes locked with hers again. “What is your name?”

No doubt about it. I’m going to lose my job because I just dropped an f-bomb in front of a customer. She fought the impulse to turn and run. Breathe, idiot! She needed to get herself under control immediately. Taking another deep breath, she smoothed her hands down her skirt and closed her eyes a brief moment before trying yet again. Unable to meet the man’s eyes any longer, she turned to his companion. “Welcome back to Arturo’s,Mr. Lawson. May I bring you something from the bar, or would you prefer to go ahead and order?”

“I’ll have my regular,” he said, his lips quirking a bit as if he was amused. The source of that amusement became clear when he added. “And, young lady, it would behoove you to answer Masterson’s question before we go any further.”

Did he say Master? Holy hell… he couldn’t have. That title was not something bandied about in a public arena. Even as her head spun trying to keep her mind from going where it didn’t belong, and to try to remember what question had even been asked, he leaned forward just a bit and spoke low as if to share a secret. “Oh, and I’d suggest an apology as well.” He sat back, his lips curving into a smile. “Unless, of course, you are like my Michelle and prefer making your apologies after the fact.”

“After? After what? Oh, after I get your drinks—”

“No, that’s not what he means,” Masterson corrected. “But that’s not important at the moment.”

“No? Oh, um… okay.” Totally confused, she was about to turn away to bring their drink order when she realized she’d yet to get his. “Oh, what can I bring you, Mast…” No way she could get that word out, no matter if it cost her this job. “Sir.”

His smile was back, and she couldn’t blame him for being amused. She was acting like a silly teenager who was about to swoon over some impossibly handsome high school quarterback.

“You may bring me a Courvoisier neat. And, though no man could possibly deny the pleasure of hearing either title from your lips, my name is Sawyer Masterson.”

Her face flamed again as he corrected her. No matter how kindly he’d put it, she was still making an ass of herself.

“I’m sorry… I’ll get your drinks.” Spinning away, she grimaced at the twinge that shot up her leg as her ankle twisted. Damn shoes! Only someone who never had to balance drinks and food on heavy trays would choose such ridiculous footwear. But seeing as it was unlikely that Arnold Arturo, the owner of the expensive restaurant, had ever worn anything more restrictive than his custom-made shoes along with his tailored suits, he’d have no idea how much her feet ached by the end of her shift. It was her job, along with every other woman he employed, to project a certain image. Their uniform of pleated black skirts that brushed the top of their knees, white blouses unbuttoned just enough to draw an eye but not be considered trashy, and four-inch black stilettos was meant to convey refined elegance.

At the bar, she placed the drink order, a bit astonished she actually remembered it. Wishing she could bend over and rub her ankle, but knowing to be caught would be frowned upon, she placed all her weight on her right foot and slowly rotated her left, wincing at the sting.

“How’s it going?”

Jane glanced up to see Sarah and gave a soft groan that had nothing to do with her ankle. Just beyond her friend, Jane could see her boss was approaching the table she’d just left. She knew he was about to get an earful about the awful service she was giving. “Let’s just say, I’ll most likely be looking for another job.”

Sarah looked back toward the dining room. “Uh oh, that doesn’t sound good. What happened?”

“What didn’t?” Jane said and then sighed. “Have you ever had a customer who makes you so nervous you can’t even remember your name?” Before Sarah could answer, Jane groaned. “Shit. That’s what he asked me! God, he must think I’m a total moron.” She went on to fill Sarah in on how she’d stumbled over her words and made an idiot out of herself. “So, as I said, it’s been nice working with you.”

Sarah smiled and turned her attention back to Jane, reaching over to pat her hand. “I can see why you might be a bit flustered. That is one incredibly handsome hunk. I can think of all sorts of ways to service him.” Jane groaned and Sarah laughed. “Relax. I’m sure you’re overreacting. Just sashay over there, give him one of your smiles, and bat those long eyelashes. By the time he pays the check, I’ll bet you’ll find a nice fat tip to thank you for all your personal… service.”

Jane could feel her face heat even as she slapped Sarah’s hand away. “Ha, ha, very funny. I just hope he is as forgiving as he is handsome.” Picking up the silver tray that held her customers’ drinks, she gently set her foot down, grateful that it felt as if her ankle would hold her without too much discomfort. Taking her first step, she had to fight not to flush yet again when Sarah gave another piece of advice.

“Oh, and another button undone would go a long way to having him forget his own name. I really would hate to have to find another roomie.”

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