The Interview_New York & Los Angeles Read online

  Seriously? I set my phone down and booked my flight to Los Angeles anyway. I tried to do it the professional way, but since he declined, I’d have to go another route.

  Chapter Two

  I arrived in Los Angeles Thursday afternoon at three o’clock. I couldn’t get a flight that coincided with George’s arrival, so I didn’t get to see him before I left. After picking up my luggage from baggage claim, I called an Uber to take me to my hotel: Four Seasons Los Angeles. I knew it was pricey, but Eric did say to make my own arrangements. Plus, it was right across the street from Rosie’s.

  After settling in and staring out at the magnificent view of L.A. from my hotel window, I dialed the restaurant to make a dinner reservation.

  “Good afternoon. Thank you for calling Rosie’s. How may I help you?”

  “I would like to make a dinner reservation for tonight.”

  “I’m sorry, but we’re all booked up.”

  “How about for tomorrow night?” I asked with irritation.

  “I’m sorry, but reservations are full.”

  I let out a deep sigh. “Thank you.”

  I needed to think, and I needed to think fast. I wasn’t shy about doing underhanded things. I needed to get into the restaurant and at least meet Mr. Pines first before I sprang on him who I really was and why I was there. He was going to give me an interview, no matter what I had to do to get it.

  After finishing my shower, I applied my makeup, threw some soft curls into the ends of my long brown hair, and stepped into a strapless white maxi dress. Grabbing my handbag from the bed, I headed across the street to the restaurant.

  When I walked through the large glass doors with “Rosie’s” proudly written in gold across them, I was greeted by a younger blonde woman.

  “Hello. How may I help you?” She smiled.

  “I’m meeting someone here.” My eyes scanned the restaurant.

  “Okay. The name of the person you’re meeting?”

  Looking over to my left, I saw a round table with two younger men sitting down. Perfect. They wouldn’t mind if I horned in on their dinner.

  “Oh. I see them.” I smiled as I walked away.

  “Miss, wait.” The hostess followed behind.

  When I approached the table, the two handsome men stopped their conversation and looked up at me.

  “I’m so sorry I’m late.” I planted a kiss on the cheek of the man with the perfectly styled black hair and then moved on to his friend with the longer brown curly hair.

  Both men stared in confusion at me as I took a seat across from them.

  “Traffic was horrible.” I waved my hand in the air.

  “Umm,” the man with the black hair spoke.

  “Sir, is she with you?” the hostess asked.

  He looked at me as the corners of my mouth curved up into a cunning smile.

  “Yes. Yes, she is,” the brown curly-haired man spoke with a grin. “We just weren’t sure if she was going to be able to make it.” He winked at me.

  The hostess handed me a menu and then scurried off to seat the line of people that had filtered through the door after me.

  “Hi.” I smiled as I held out my hand. “I’m Laurel Holloway.”

  The black-haired man gently placed his hand in mine. “I’m Dean Howell. And this is Brett Sommers.”

  “Nice to meet you both. I’m so sorry for intruding on your dinner, but I needed to get into this restaurant tonight and all reservations were full.”

  “Do you always just invade other people’s tables when you can’t get a reservation?” Brett smirked.

  “No. This is my first time, and the two of you looked like nice gentlemen who wouldn’t mind.”

  “You’re right. We would never turn down the company of a beautiful woman.” Dean smiled.

  “I’m sure your wives would disagree.” I scanned their left fingers and noticed the gold bands they were wearing.

  “May I get you something to drink?” The waitress walked over.

  “I’ll have a neat martini, straight up with two olives.”

  “Coming right up.” She smiled.

  “Excellent choice of drink.” Dean winked.

  “Okay, fellas, let me let you in on a little secret. I’m a journalist with the Seattle Times and I’m hoping to secure an interview with the owner of this restaurant.”

  “Wouldn’t a simple phone call have been easier?” Brett asked.

  “I called. He declined. Hence the reason why I’m sitting here with you two gentlemen.”

  “So, you’re using us?” Dean smirked.

  “Yes. I guess I am. You didn’t honestly think I just sat down here to persuade you to have sex, did you?” I arched my brow.

  The waitress returned and set my martini down in front of me.

  “Are you ready to order?”

  “I’ll have the sourdough crusted king salmon and the market mushroom salad.” I handed her the menu. “So?” I cocked my head as I looked at Dean and Brett. “You didn’t answer my question.”

  Both men cleared their throats for they weren’t quite sure how to answer.

  “No, of course not.” Brett chuckled. “We’re happily married men. We would never.”

  “I’m sure you wouldn’t.” I took a sip of my martini. “Go ahead and finish the conversation you were having before I sat down. Don’t mind me. I’ll just be sitting here minding my own business.”

  As I looked around the restaurant, I couldn’t help but notice how elegantly decorated it was. High back, private leather booths lined the walls with just enough seating for two people, all enclosed by cherry wood dividers to give the utmost privacy. Round tables with crème-colored leather chairs filled the rest of the space and were draped with white linens and burgundy runners. Finally, after about forty-five minutes, my food was served.

  “Enjoy.” The waitress smiled as she set my plate in front of me.

  Brett and Dean finished up their drinks and got up from their seats.

  “It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Laurel.” Brett smiled.

  “Indeed, it was,” Dean spoke. “Good luck getting that interview.”

  “Thank you, gentlemen, and I’m sorry for intruding on your dinner.”

  “No worries. It was fun.” Dean smiled as they both walked away.

  Taking a bite of my salmon, I savored the mouthwatering taste. It was delicious and the best salmon I had ever had.

  “How’s your meal?” the waitress asked.

  “May I ask who the chef is?”

  “That would be Mr. Pines. Is something wrong?”

  “Actually, this salmon is very dry and I’m not happy,” I lied. “I would like to speak with the chef. Considering this is a five-star restaurant, I would expect the salmon not to be dry.”

  “I’m very sorry, miss. Let me go talk to the chef and I’ll bring you another one.”

  “I would like to speak with him myself. Could you please tell him that a customer is very dissatisfied with her meal?”

  “Of course. I’ll be right back.” She took away my plate.

  Shit. I was hungry and wanted to finish the delicious salmon that was in front of me, but I couldn’t.

  “Excuse me. Jennifer tells me that something is wrong with the salmon I prepared,” a brutally handsome man who stood about six feet two with brown hair, piercing blue eyes, and very muscular arms spoke.

  “Yes. It’s dry.”

  “Impossible.” He cocked his head with a small smile.

  “Not impossible.” I held up my finger. “I would like to speak with the owner of this restaurant, please. I’m a customer and the customer is always right.” I narrowed my eye at him.

  “I am the owner and you’re right, the customer is always right. Let me prepare another salmon for you.”

  “Only if you promise to bring it out yourself.” I smirked.

  “I’m very busy tonight. Look around. My restaurant is packed full.”

  “I can see that, but if you want a sat
isfied customer…”

  “I’ll see what I can do. By the way, may I ask your name?”

  “Laurel.” I held out my hand.

  “I’m Craig Pines. It’s nice to meet you.” He placed his hand in mine.

  I watched as his fine ass in tight black pants walked away. Damn. Dirty thoughts were scrambling in my head faster than a race car raced around the track. About fifteen minutes later, Craig walked up and set a plate of salmon in front of me.

  “I hope this one meets your expectations.” He gently smiled.

  Picking up my fork, I placed it in the salmon and took a bite.

  “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

  “I’m happy you’re pleased. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have other meals to prepare.”

  “Hey, Craig,” I spoke as he began to walk away. “How about a drink after you close up?”

  He turned and looked at me. “I know who you are, Miss Holloway, and I’m not doing an interview.” He smirked as he went back into the kitchen.

  Shit. I bit down on my bottom lip as I sat there and devised my next plan. I looked at the time on my phone. It was nine o’clock. Two hours and the restaurant would be closing. After finishing my dessert, which was out of this world, I paid my bill and went and sat up at the bar where I would stay until they kicked me out. One way or another, I was going to talk to Craig Pines again.

  “Laurel, we’re closing up now,” the bartender named Barney spoke.

  “And?” I raised my brow.

  “You have to leave.”

  “I will as soon as I finish up my drink.” I frowned.

  “You’ve been nursing that drink for the last hour. Don’t you have anywhere else you need to be? Don’t you have any friends?”

  “Yes, I have friends. They all happen to be back in Seattle.”

  “And you’re still here.” Craig took a seat next to me at the bar.

  “Yes, I am.” I nodded. “I’m just finishing up this martini and then I’ll leave.”

  “Good. Have a good night.” He got up and walked away.

  I sighed as I finished off my martini.

  “Hey.” Barney leaned over the bar. “You didn’t hear this from me. Every morning at seven o’clock, Craig goes to Venice Beach to do some surfing.”

  “He surfs?” My eyes widened.

  “He does.”

  “Thanks, Barney.”

  “Now get out of here so I can go home.” He smiled.

  Chapter Three

  The buzzing sound of the alarm woke me from a deep sleep. Reaching over and grabbing my phone, I shut it off and stretched across the comfy bed. Once I mustered the energy to get up, I threw on a pair of shorts and a tank top and threw my hair into a ponytail. Slipping my feet into my sandals, I headed down to the lobby where an Uber was waiting for me.

  “Where to?” the driver asked.

  “Venice Beach, please.”

  As I approached the sand, I took off my shoes and carried them while I walked down to the shoreline. Looking out at the beautiful blue ocean, I saw there were several surfers in the water. How the hell did I know which one was him? I couldn’t tell, so I planted myself down in the sand and took in the warm breeze that swept across me and watched as the surfers attempted to ride the waves. Some were really good; others, not so much. As I was taking in the peaceful morning, my phone rang, and George was calling.

  “Good morning, George.”

  “Morning, sunshine. I didn’t wake you, did I?”

  “Nope. I’m sitting in the sand at Venice Beach right now.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Because Mr. Pines is here surfing. He declined the interview last night, so I had to figure out another way to get his attention.”

  “So, you’re stalking him?”

  “Pretty much. I’m getting that interview one way or another.”

  “That’s my girl. Good luck. I have to run. I just wanted to check in. I’m having breakfast with Veronica before I head to the office.”

  “Tell her I said hi.”

  “I will. Be safe, Laurel.”

  “Talk to you soon, George.”

  Veronica was George’s new girlfriend. They had been dating a few months and I really liked her. She was a lot better than the previous girls he had dated. It just so happened that her best friend was a guy, so she understood our relationship. The others didn’t. It was their insecurities that drove George away. As I set my phone down, I looked up to see Craig walking towards me with his surfboard under his arm.

  “Miss Holloway?”

  “Mr. Pines. Fancy seeing you here. Good morning.” I smiled.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked.

  “Enjoying the beach. What are you doing here?”

  He looked at his surfboard and then at me.

  “Right.” I smirked. “You’re surfing. Wow. I didn’t know you surfed.”

  “How would you?” He cocked his head.

  “I wouldn’t.”

  “So, this is just a coincidence, us running into each other here?”

  “What are you insinuating?” I got up.

  “I just think it’s strange seeing you here this morning,” he replied.

  “Really? I’m not allowed to sit on this public beach while I’m in California because you’re here?” I spoke with an attitude.

  “If you only came here to sit on the beach, it’s fine, but if you came here to see me, it’s not.”

  Putting up my hand, I began to walk away. “I didn’t know this was your beach. I’ll find another one to sit on.” I angrily walked away but with a smile on my face.

  “Are you hungry?” he shouted from a few feet away.

  I stopped, turned around, and looked at him. “Why?”

  “There’s this diner on the boardwalk that serves great breakfast. I’m heading there now if you’d like to join me.”

  “Are you sure? I’d hate to ruin your day any further.”

  “Come on, Laurel. You aren’t ruining my day and if I didn’t want you to join me, I wouldn’t have asked.”

  I silently smiled to myself. I was getting this interview.

  “I’d love to join you. Thank you.”

  Craig and I walked to his car so he could take his wetsuit off and slip on a t-shirt. When he took the wetsuit down, my ovaries may have exploded a little. His body was ripped in all the right places. It took great control and inner strength not to reach out and touch him. We made our way to the diner and sat down in a booth by the window overlooking the beach.

  “Tell me about yourself,” Craig spoke as he sipped on his coffee.

  “Well, I grew up in Boston and I have a brother and a sister.” I smiled.

  “And?”

  “That’s pretty much it. You already know I work for the Seattle Times.”

  “Why Seattle?” he asked.

  “It was the furthest place away from my family.” I held the white coffee cup between my hands.

  “Ah.” He lightly nodded his head. “I take it you and your family aren’t close?”

  “Not really. My mother likes to nag, drink, and bang the pool boy, and my father is a workaholic who likes to bang anyone who has a vagina.”

  “Oh. I don’t know what to say to that.” He smirked.

  “I don’t blame you. I wouldn’t know what to say either if someone told me that.”

  The waitress walked over, set our breakfast down in front of us, and refilled our cups.

  “How did you end up owning your own restaurant?” I asked nonchalantly.

  His eyes narrowed at me as he took a bite of his eggs.

  “Are you interviewing me, Miss Holloway?”

  “No. I told you about me, so I would like to know a little about you.”

  He sighed. “As much as I would like to tell you about myself, I’m afraid I can’t.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it will end up in an article.”

  “People want to know about you, Craig. You’re a star. You should be proud
of what you’ve accomplished at your age, and most importantly, women want to know why nobody has snatched you up yet.”

  “That’s nobody’s business,” he snapped.

  I sat there and stared at him as he looked away from me. I was good at reading people, and something told me he was hiding something. Maybe he was gay. Yeah, he was gay and didn’t want anyone to know. But he didn’t have to snap at me the way he did.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

  “Don’t apologize, Laurel. I’m sorry for the tone I used. It’s just I keep my personal life very private and that’s how I want it to stay.”

  “Okay, then. How about this. Let’s do a day or a week in the life of Craig Pines. I’ll be your shadow and you can show me what you do from day to day. Kind of like a behind the scenes at the restaurant. We’ll give people a glimpse of your life without the personal stuff. It’ll do wonders for the restaurant. Not that you need it. Plus, maybe you’ll inspire someone who wants to own their own restaurant.”

  “No personal stuff?”

  “Just business. Deal?” I held out my hand to him.

  “Deal.” The corners of his mouth curved upwards as he placed his hand in mine.

  “To the start of a new friendship.” I smiled as I held up my coffee cup.

  “Indeed.” He grinned.

  Chapter Four

  “Where are you staying?” Craig asked as we climbed into his car.

  “Four Seasons.”

  “Right across the street from the restaurant?”

  “Yep.”

  “I need to change before heading there, so we’ll stop at my place first and then I’ll take you back to the hotel.”

  “Oh. You’re inviting me to your home?” I smiled.

  “Yes, actually, I am. That is, if you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all. I’d love to see your place.”

  We had only driven a little over a mile before he pulled into the Del Rey Marina.

  “Are we doing some boating first?” I asked.

  “No. This is where I live.” His lips formed a smile.

  “Huh?” I arched my brow at him.

  “I live on a boat.”

  “Get out!” I lightly smacked his arm and he chuckled.