“It’s your business that’s in trouble, Tatum. Not you.”
“That’s what you don’t seem to understand, Cruz.” She planted a hand on his chest and pushed him away. “They’re one and the same. So.” She pulled herself together, shoved what might have been down to where she couldn’t access it, and refocused on the only thing that mattered. “Let’s call that a completed experiment, accept the results and get back to the job at hand as partners.” The sooner he was out of her business, out of her life, the better. She reached for the canister of flour and a measuring cup, handed the latter over to him with a barely trembling hand. “Measure out two cups.”
* * *
Cruz kicked the door to his two-bedroom bungalow closed behind him and carried an oversize tote into his own meager, completely uninspired kitchen. For a man who prided himself on following plans, he’d sure taken a serious detour today.
He returned to the living room, turned on a few lights and tapped a finger against the glass of the oversize aquarium that housed Norbert, his pet tortoise. The creature lifted his wrinkly head, blinked his teeny eyes, then seemed to let out a silent sigh of irritation that his nap had been interrupted before he tucked back into his shell. “Serves me right for not getting a dog.”
He clicked on the TV, grateful for the background noise, then returned to the kitchen to unpack.
Not only had Tatum sent him home with enough pasta to feed him for a few nights, she’d also given him homework in the guise of an advanced, illustrated techniques cookbook and a number of books on the restaurant business.
“I want you to walk in the door to True on Wednesday as if you can jump into the job immediately,” she’d told him as she’d pulled books from her dedicated case against the wall between her kitchen and living room. “I’ll have your résumé tweaked and done by tomorrow morning and will email it to you. I suggest you memorize it to be safe.”
The detached professionalism didn’t sit well with him. Clearly, they could now divide their history as BK and AK. Before kiss and after kiss. He much preferred the BK Tatum Colton.
Before he realized exactly how much heat there was between them.
He should have known touching the flame would get him burned, and Tatum Colton had most definitely scorched him. Cruz set the leftover containers in the fridge, grabbed a beer and lugged the books into the living room, where he flipped around until he landed on an exhibition game between the Cubs and Cardinals. Before he’d been summoned to Tatum’s condo, he’d had plans to watch the game down at Santino’s, the sports pub two blocks away, but as he was fond of reminding Tatum, he had a job to do. And work had to come first.
“Even before kissing beautiful chefs,” he told himself. He wished he knew what he’d been thinking, giving in to that impulse. An impulse that clearly she’d shared. It was, after all, she who’d hauled him closer to get the deed done. And in that one instant he understood just how powerful attraction could be.
The revelation could not have come at a more inconvenient time.
He took a pull of his beer, set the bottle down, then settled in on his sofa to read. He was a skimmer by nature, a fast skimmer who could absorb information like a sponge. Speed-reading was a natural ability for him and had served him well in the various undercover operations he’d been a part of since becoming a cop. He also had a memory like a steel trap. Not eidetic exactly, but pretty close. One of the reasons all his partners had been thrilled to work with him. No one did paperwork as efficiently or with as much detail as Cruz Medina.
Johnny had been pretty darn good at it, too. He’d even enjoyed doing it. For once Cruz had been happy to turn that part of the job over to his partner.
Cruz winced, tried to focus for a few moments on the game. It had been two months. Two months since he’d last sat with his partner, his friend, and laughed as they tried to navigate this crazy profession they’d both chosen. Two months since Cruz had been able to tease his fresh-off-the-farm partner about his tooth-achingly sweet plans to propose to his long-time girlfriend. Two months since Johnny had dragged Cruz with him to pick out the ring he planned to surprise his Jade with.
Johnny wasn’t laughing anymore. He wasn’t spouting proposal plans or even planning a wedding. And chances were pretty damn good he never would.
Cruz finished his beer, resisted the urge to get another. One thing he’d learned early on in this job was to limit his chosen coping mechanisms. Whether it was women, alcohol or hours at the firing range, they were all to be enjoyed in steady, limited amounts.
But he hadn’t gotten close to his limit of Tatum Colton. He knew it as soon as his mouth had brushed hers. There was something different about her, about them. Something he had never expected to find for himself. Something he didn’t want to find.
“Focus on the books, Medina.” He returned to reading, to skimming, pushing all other thoughts firmly out of reach.
The sooner he got this case solved and behind him, the better. More important, the sooner he could distance himself from Tatum, the better off both of them would be.
CHAPTER 6
“Tatum, you got a minute?”
“Sure.” Tatum glanced up from her menu notes when Richard knocked on her door midmorning on Wednesday. Her manager was tall, a little on the bulky side, and possessed a mind born for the business world. He waited for her to wave him in, and then entered. “What’s up?”
“About this sous-chef you hired.” Richard reminded her of a Ken doll, very well put together, perfectly presentable, and happy to reside in the shadows of a successful woman. They only rarely butted heads, which usually told her she needed to consider things from another perspective. Most important, he knew when to pick his battles.
She let out a long breath. Clearly, this was going to be one of those times.
“Cruz Mendoza?” Her stomach clenched as the moment she’d been dreading arrived. Richard had been in and out of the restaurant most of the day overseeing the catering deliveries. He looked slightly haggard and stressed beneath the pressed dark suit and blue tie he wore. She motioned for him to sit and reminded herself yet again she was doing what had to be done. For now at least. “What about him?”
“I was just wondering how or where you found him.” He waved a printout of the résumé she’d fabricated for Cruz. “I had a list of potentials lined up.”
“Yeah, sorry about that.” She kept her voice even, scribbled meaningless notes to appear somewhat normal. “Kelly Spangler recommended him.” Her colleague was currently on maternity leave and had gone incommunicado. “They worked together a couple of years ago when he was just out of culinary school.” She’d committed Cruz’s false history to memory while she and the detective had worked out the details. “He moved here to be near family, so I reached out. Why?” She glanced up and frowned. “Is there a problem?”
“No. Not really.” But she could tell by the strained expression on his face there was. “I guess I’ve gotten used to taking care of the employment aspects of the job. Plus, I got the feeling I hadn’t quite convinced you we needed someone else.”
“It felt right.” She added a shrug. “Right time. Right person. He’s coming in this morning. You good to show him around?”
“Ah, what time?” Richard glanced at his watch. “I have a meeting at eleven thirty with a potential new catering customer.”
“Don’t worry about it.” She waved him off. “I went ahead and set him up in the payroll system. I got back early from the farmers and fish market so jumped at it. Deliveries should be here in a little over an hour.” They opened for dinner at five, but there was always prep work and planning that needed doing. And of course staff dinner, which all the employees ate together a few hours before they opened. First thing she’d done when she’d come in today was put on a huge pot of her employees-only minestrone. It would simmer the next few hours and soon the aroma of fresh-baked bread would begin wa
fting through True. “Since I’m ahead of things I can take care of getting him acquainted with the restaurant.”
“I can call Susan,” Richard offered. “Have her come in early?”
“It’s fine.” She didn’t want to hand Cruz off to anyone else. “I’ll introduce you when you get back. Anything else?” Her cheeks strained with the effort it took to smile.
“We’ve locked down the Wilmington wedding in July and the Eppes’ Bar Mitzvah next month for catering jobs. I’d like to set up some tastings for them in the next week or so.”
“Shouldn’t be an issue.” She scribbled a note to herself to do a little research on both families. She liked, if possible, to add special, personal touches to events like this, incorporating familiar or comforting menu items that would be that added attention to detail. “How’s Jeremy working out as driver? I bet he’s glad to get out of washing dishes once in a while.”
“Pike?” Richard glanced down at his notepad. “Yeah, doing okay. We get along okay and he likes the change.” He shrugged. “Can’t ask for more than that, can you?”
Of course she could; she always asked a lot of her employees and she expected the best. Given the catering program had been in Richard’s hands, navigating her interest could be...tricky. She didn’t want to come across as taking over when it was a job he was more than qualified and eager to do. But if Cruz’s appearance in her life didn’t teach her anything else, it taught her that she needed to keep a closer eye on what was going on in all aspects of her business. Although the kitchen would always be her main priority, and Tatum would never relinquish control over the food she and her staff produced.
“Over the next few weeks I’d like to work on getting some consistent summer events booked,” she said. “I know a lot of people think of us as high-end, but we need to appeal to smaller businesses and activities as well, to ensure long-term success.” If all went well, she could look into expanding next door with a dedicated and separate catering operation. She already had some ideas as to who she’d like running it, once they were solidly in the black.
“I can go through the list of city festivals and events, see if anything pops there.” Richard tapped away on his phone. “There’s always Eataly, and it is one of Chicago’s premier food festivals, but that’s this month and they’re probably booked out for booths. Maybe someone’s canceled.”
“Can’t hurt to check. What about those business lunches we’ve been catering for the past few weeks?”
“Belma Trade? They want to sign a long-term agreement. Gourmet lunches for their employees and board of directors. About a hundred and fifty meals every Thursday. Nothing fancy so far, but enough to keep things moving and word of mouth rolling. Sam’s doing good overseeing the preparation. He and Colby seem to have it running well.”
What would she do without Sam? “What’s that costing us?”
Richard glanced up. “We’re not quite in the black yet. Why? You want to see numbers?”
“I’ve looked at the sheets, but I’d like specifics and an accounting report. Is that a problem?”
“No.” But Richard’s brow furrowed. “Of course not. I’ll put one together for you this week.”
“Great, thanks.” Her gaze shifted over Richard’s shoulder when a familiar and distracting face strode into view. “Cruz. You’re early.” She got to her feet, ignoring the surge of excitement that shot through her at seeing him again, which didn’t make sense because she did not want him here.
He’d taken her advice and come dressed to work, from his loose-fitting slacks to the cushioned shoes on his feet. His shirt was a shade of blue that reminded her of lazy sails on the ocean and long, languid dives into the deep. Heaven help her, this was going to be more difficult than she thought.
He carried a backpack like most of her employees, and his hair was tied back in a short ponytail at the base of his neck. She didn’t see any hint of the intense, intractable detective she’d been dealing with. “Cruz Mendoza, this is Richard Kirkman, my manager and all-around right hand.”
“Pleasure.” Cruz stepped in and held out his hand. “Thank you again for this opportunity, Ms. Colton. I can’t tell you how relieved I am to have a job again.”
“We’re looking forward to working with you,” Richard responded for her. “So how’s Kelly Spangler doing these days? I had lunch with her a few months ago. She’d just been promoted to executive chef at Ladle and Spoon.”
Tatum’s eyes went wide for an instant before her gaze flew to Cruz. Darn it! She’d thought she’d chosen someone completely off Richard’s radar.
“Sounds like you’re spending too much time in a Tardis,” Cruz said easily and with a chuckle. “Kelly left Spoon just before she had her first baby. She’s at Bread and Butter now. Or she will be once she’s back from her second maternity leave.”
Richard snapped his fingers. “That’s right. I forgot. She’s running their bakery, isn’t she?”
“Once they open it, yes. This sounds like some kind of test.” Cruz played the concerned applicant with deference, but the ease with which he lied had Tatum’s stomach looping into uneasy knots. “Have you changed your mind about hiring me?”
“No, we haven’t.” Tatum found her voice again, came around her desk and put an end to the inquisition. “I don’t think Richard appreciated me going around him to hire you. But seeing as it is my restaurant, it is my prerogative.” It was perfectly okay for Richard to do his job and make recommendations, but when push came to shove, decisions like this were hers. It must have been a while since she’d reminded her manager of that. “Isn’t that right, Richard?”
“Of course. No offense meant.” Richard nodded, stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Normally I’d be the one to get you all set here, but I’m afraid I have an appointment. I believe Tatum will be taking care of you from here on. I’ll let you know how things turn out with the new client, Tatum,” he said on his way out.
Tatum stood where she was until she was certain he was out of earshot, then turned her still wide eyes on Cruz.
“Would it be out of line for me to just call him Dick?” Cruz muttered under his breath as he closed the door.
“He means well.” Tatum bit back a grin. “And you are early. Why? Is there something wrong?” Had he realized he’d made a mistake? Did they not have to go through with this charade after all?
“No. Just anxious to get started.” He glanced around her office, gave what she took as a nod of approval. “I didn’t have anything else to do, so I figured I’d best jump in. What’s first, boss lady?”
He spoke so casually, as if what he was doing here wasn’t spying on her business. How was this so easy for him? And how had he brushed aside what had happened between them yesterday? Okay, so she’d been the one to insist they keep things professional. Still, it would be nice to know she wasn’t the only person who’d had her circuits fried.
“That’s Chef while we’re working. Tatum is fine the rest of the time. How’d you know all that about Kelly?”
“It’s my job to know my legend inside and out.” Cruz shifted his pack higher on his shoulder. “The internet is a detective’s best friend. I did a search on everyone you mentioned in my résumé. He was testing me, wasn’t he?”
“Probably.” She pulled open the door again. “He’s been very meticulous about who we’ve hired. It’s a point of pride with him.”
“Meaning I wouldn’t have passed muster if you’d left it up to him?”
“Meaning there was no guarantee, and as you said, we don’t have a lot of time to play with. Drug trafficking being what it is and all.”
Given his arched brow and his pursed lips, she must have sounded snarkier than intended. “How about I show you around,” she said. “We’ll get you a locker, and you can meet some of your fellow employees.”
* * *
Whatever Cruz had been expecting as an empl
oyee of True, his downtime, whatever there was of it, would definitely be a plus. The employee locker room, as it was loosely called, was, well, something he would have expected to see in an upscale gym or private club. The walls were painted the same green as the restaurant ceiling and accentuated with swirls of gold. The requisite bank of polished wooden lockers sat against one long wall, and on either end were doors leading to both men’s and women’s rooms.
Behind those doors were areas that included changing rooms as well as well-stocked showers. That he didn’t find a monogrammed robe behind his narrow, numbered locker door came as something of a surprise.
The break area consisted of a couple of tables with multiple cushioned chairs as well as a flat-screen TV, something he couldn’t quite wrap his brain around. And was that an...an old-fashioned movie-style popcorn machine?
“We’ve got a staff of baseball fans,” Tatum told him at his befuddled expression. “They watch games on their breaks.”
“And throw popcorn at the screen when we lose,” someone chimed in.
“We also get the best leftovers in town. I’m Sam Price.” One of Tatum’s staff members introduced himself as he slipped on his white chef’s jacket. He was Black, slightly shorter than Cruz, and had what Cruz could only describe as a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “Still time to get in on this year’s pool, Chef.”
“You know I can’t tell a shortstop from a midfielder,” Tatum said.
“Yeah.” Sam grinned. “That was kinda the point.”
“How about you, new guy?” The woman who sidled over was compact, reached almost to Cruz’s bicep, and wore her stark pink hair in a face-tightening bun on the top of her head. Tiny, tattooed stars dotted the side of her neck. “You a baseball fan, Mendoza?”
“Since I could hold a bat,” Cruz confirmed. “Cubs fan to the marrow.”
“Cool.” As if he’d passed another test, she offered her hand. “I’m Colby Quinn.”
Harlequin Romantic Suspense March 2021 Page 6