by Brenda Gayle
And even if he was there, what did it matter? It was a free country. She could go anywhere she wanted with anyone she wanted.
Do you ever hang out and have fun? he’d asked last night. It had hurt. Maybe she should hope Hunter was there tonight. Then she could show him that she did have fun—and that she didn’t need her sister to find her dates, either. Not only that, she’d be dining with an extremely charming and attractive man. Hunter didn’t have to know it was business. In fact, Bower had indicated he didn’t want to talk business anyway.
“Sure, Prime sounds great. I’d like to go home first and freshen up. I’ll meet you there in an hour.”
Chapter 6
Hunter took one more look around Prime’s kitchen to make sure the brigade had everything in hand. He was pleased with how well the team had come together over the last few months—everyone knew their stations, but they were also prepared to step in and assist wherever they were needed.
He’d apprenticed in some well-known New York eateries, and he knew it was a rare gift to have this kind of camaraderie in the stress-laden environment of a five-star restaurant. And he also knew that a lot of the responsibility for the atmosphere rested with the personality of the executive chef.
Hunter had decided when he’d opened Prime that he was going to be fair-handed and receptive to suggestions, while insisting everyone maintain his exacting standards—no divas allowed, not even him. So far, it was working.
With the kitchen under control, it was time for another tour around the dining room. He did this three or four times an evening, recognizing that his celebrity was as much a part of the success of Prime as the excellent food he served.
He was gratified to see the room was almost full. The few vacant tables had reserved signs on them. It wasn’t unusual to see so many patrons out on a Thursday, but he still found it a little odd that his restaurant was routinely booked on a weeknight. It was a trend he had noted a few years earlier in New York. “Thursdays are the new Fridays,” someone had told him, and yet it didn’t seem to affect his weekend business at all.
He glanced at the entrance, situated off the lobby of the Roundtree. Mandy was talking to new customers—hopefully they had a reservation. She was so kind-hearted she often squeezed in a reservation rather than turn someone away.
It was fine so long as the people she allowed in kept their word by eating and leaving quickly. But when they lingered, patrons with reservations would have to cool their heels in the bar while they waited for their table to be vacated. Hunter wasn’t sure the revenue generated by the extra seating offset the free drinks and appetizers he had to provide, or the less-than-perfect dinner experience. He made a mental note to check into that next time he looked at the books.
The fashion consultant he had hired to tone down Mandy’s sexiness had done her job well. Tonight his hostess was dressed conservatively in black pants and a button-down black tuxedo shirt. She still looked sexy as hell, but at least she didn’t look like she was heading out for a night on the town.
Hunter was about to turn toward the dining room when Mandy stepped aside to reveal the customers with whom she’d been speaking.
No way. It couldn’t be.
He immediately recognized the burgundy jumpsuit. It looked so much better on the woman than it had hanging in her closet.
From across the room his gaze traveled down Nora. He noted how her wavy black hair hung loosely around her bare shoulders, and how the large keyhole neckline showed a modicum of cleavage while the tight fitting bodice promised more. The soft fabric hugged her bottom and thighs before falling straight down, gently brushing her calves—which were not shown to their best effect because she was still wearing those damned Mary-Janes.
Despite her footwear, she was stunning. He had started to move toward her before he noticed the bear of a man standing beside her, gazing down at her with a proprietary gleam in his eye.
What the—?
“Ah Hunter, good.” Mandy called over to him, concern showing on her face. “This is Mr. Bower from Texas. He’s staying at the hotel, just arrived today, and is leaving tomorrow. He doesn’t have a reservation. I was wondering—”
Hunter knew that hotel guests were to be given high priority in the restaurant, but he hated this guy on sight.
What the hell is he doing with Nora?
He glanced at the reservation log. Prime was fully booked. Good. He’d be well within his rights to refuse.
Nora wouldn’t meet his gaze and shifted from foot to foot looking embarrassed. He had been pretty hard on her last night. Had she come here to prove something to him? Prove to him that she did have a social life? Surely not with an oaf like this guy, though. And that amazing jumpsuit? For whom had she worn it? Him or the jerk she was with?
“Nora, you look lovely,” Hunter said, raising her hand to his lips.
She looked startled. “Thanks.”
He smiled down at her. He could stare into those café noir eyes all night, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to watch someone else do it—even though he didn’t believe there was anything going on between Nora and this Neanderthal. Mandy had said he was in from Texas—must be business. “We’re completely booked, I’m afraid.”
“Okay, that’s fine,” Nora said quickly. “We’ll just find somewhere else, Billy.”
“Nonsense,” the man’s voice boomed. “There’s always an extra table hidden away for emergencies. What if the President walked in and wanted a table?”
“I think Secret Service would have called to make a reservation,” Hunter said dryly.
“Really, Billy, it’s okay.” Nora tugged on the jerk’s arm, trying to lead him out into the lobby. “There are lots of restaurants in Santa Fe.”
“What about a chef’s table?” Mandy said.
Hunter’s breath caught and he whirled around to her. The business owner part of him knew he should applaud her for being a good hostess by finding a solution, but the other part of him—the man—wanted to strangle her with his bare hands.
Chef’s tables were reserved for special guests and VIPs. Situated in the corner of the kitchen, the chef’s table allowed patrons to observe the brigade in action, and generally received a tasting menu prepared and served by the executive chef.
No way.
“Excellent idea. Thank you, Mandy. A chef’s table would be perfect.” The boor flashed Mandy a dazzling smile and damn if she didn’t look like she was going to swoon.
What do women see in great big oafs like him? Hunter fumed.
Nora didn’t look happy either, but Hunter couldn’t be sure if that was because of the crazy chef’s table idea or because she was annoyed her date seemed to be flirting with Mandy.
“I’ll get everything ready,” Mandy said and hurried away.
Well, nothing to do but make the best of it, Hunter reasoned. At the very least, the chef’s table would give him the opportunity to figure out what Nora was really doing with this jerk. He was afraid she was in way over her head if she was trying to use the guy to prove something to him. It was probably a good idea to keep an eye on her—for her own sake.
“We don’t usually do a chef’s table,” Hunter said, “but for Nora, I’ll make an exception.” He tucked her arm into his and walked her back to the kitchen, leaving the oaf to follow behind.
As they crossed the dining room, he didn’t fail to notice the looks of appreciation being thrown their way—surprisingly they weren’t all for him. It felt strange.
Things went smoothly in the beginning. Mandy got the chef’s table set up. The lout descended on the kitchen and introduced himself and Nora to everyone. Hunter was happy to be proven correct: the man was a business acquaintance. But he wasn’t as pleased to hear him announce that he was “looking forward to working much more closely with Nora.”
It wasn’t what he said, but how he said it. The man was a player and it was obvious to Hunter that he intended to add Nora to his list of conquests.
Hunter presented an assort
ment of appetizers, making a point to refer several times to the last time he had cooked for Nora—although he didn’t mention the specifics of that disastrous evening.
He hovered around the table, giving them as little privacy as possible. He didn’t like the way the guy was constantly touching Nora, and he had to stop himself from ripping the Couquilles Saint-Jacques amuse-bouche out of the oaf’s hand as he fed it to her.
As he grilled their steaks, Hunter spoke about Rancho Tres Hermanos and its attention to quality. Although he found his family’s expectations of him exasperating, he was proud of the beef they produced.
“Well, this will be interesting,” Bower said as Hunter placed the plate in front of him. “As you know, Texas has the best beef in the world. Let’s see how yours stacks up.”
Nora gasped and Hunter was gratified to see a look of embarrassed horror on her face.
Maybe now she’ll get it. The guy’s a jerk.
“You’re entitled to your own opinion, of course, Mr. Bower,” Hunter said. “But I’ve traveled quite extensively, eaten at the best restaurants in the world, even one or two in Texas, and I can tell you that, in my professional opinion, Tres Hermanos beef is second to none.” He remained calm. The years of dealing with his father and uncles, plus the demands of New York diners, were paying off.
Bower took a bite of the beef and rolled it around in his mouth as he chewed. “Well, Hunter, it’s good, but not quite up to Texas snuff. No offense.”
“None taken.” Hunter stood stone-faced, willing himself not to beat the man to a pulp. He could take him. The brute may be heavier, but Hunter was taller and younger. “I’m sorry you’re disappointed. Perhaps it would have been better if you’d gone somewhere else.”
He couldn’t look at Nora. How could she bring this guy here? Did she hate him that much? He’d only told her the truth last night. He didn’t deserve this.
“If you’ll excuse me, I need to see to my customers in the dining room. Janelle, our pastry chef, will complete your service. Good evening.”
He stopped just outside the kitchen door to try to slow his breathing. He needed to calm down before he talked to anyone. He couldn’t ever remember being as angry as he was now.
“Hunter?”
Nora came up beside him and hesitantly reached out to touch his arm. Her dark eyes were large and luminous, and a dim part of him was aware that she was on the verge of tears. He didn’t care.
“Go away, Nora.” He turned away.
“Please, Hunter, I’m sorry. Let me explain—”
“Explain?” He rounded on her, but kept his voice low. “Explain what? Explain why you came here tonight? Explain why you brought that jerk into my restaurant—my home—to insult me and my family? Explain what’s so special about this evening that it warrants your special outfit? Just what is it you need to explain, Nora?”
He saw her step back, fearful. He was appalled by what he had said, how he was frightening her. It was as if he was watching someone else. Now that his fury had found an outlet, he seemed unable to stop. “You’re mad about what I said last night and so you came here to prove something. Well, congratulations, you did. Now get the hell out of my restaurant.” He turned and strode through the dining room toward the lobby. His patrons were just going to have to make do without him tonight.
Nora stared after Hunter. She didn’t deserve that. Yes, Billy had behaved deplorably, but Hunter’s behavior hadn’t been above reproach either.
Dammit. It was unreasonable to feel responsible for the actions of either Billy or Hunter, but she did. Her stomach knotted with regrets.
A beautiful young woman in a silky skin-tight red mini-dress stepped out in front of Hunter just as he was about to exit into the lobby of the hotel. The brighter lights from outside the restaurant seemed to shine a spotlight on the couple, and Nora watched Hunter stop to talk to her.
As the woman reached out a hand and fixed it possessively onto his arm, Nora recognized her. She wore the same predatory look Nora had seen on her face at Libby Hunter’s party. She’s glamorous and gorgeous, and just his type, Nora thought, surprised by the pang of jealousy she felt.
Well, this time he wasn’t saddled with a mercy date. Tonight he was free to take advantage of what was being offered.
Nora didn’t wait to see them leave together.
****
Hunter paced. His anger was spent. It had pretty much dissipated by the time he had climbed the three flights of stairs to his executive suite. Now, he just felt sick.
He prowled his rooms, picking up and replacing photos and pieces of the pueblo pottery he collected—things he had brought with him. Things that usually gave him comfort. He loved this suite, loved the combination of his own possessions and the luxurious trappings of one of the country’s finest hotels. He had gotten his sense of style from his mother. She’d had the ability to bring elegance and warmth to any room.
God, he missed his mother. Nothing had been right since she’d been killed by that drunk driver. She would have understood his need to pursue his own dream, accepted that he didn’t want to take charge of the family ranch.
What would she have thought of the man he’d become? He winced, knowing full well what her reaction would have been to his recent outburst at Nora. It was unacceptable.
His mother had been a fighter, strong and independent. Surprising, given the male-dominated environment she’d married into. She hadn’t allowed her wealth or social standing to stop her from helping the less fortunate in New Mexico—in fact she had used it to her benefit.
Hunter had loved and admired her strength of will, and her determination. Her commitment to public service must have been something she had inherited from her own mother. His mother, Elizabeth, had been a lot like Libby, only without the sarcasm. A lot like Nora, too, he realized with a start.
Shit. How could he have said those things to her? Scared her like that? It was so unlike him. He had never deliberately intimidated a woman in his life. His mother had taught him to be better than that.
He didn’t know what had happened. What was it about the oaf that had gotten him so riled up? Why did it matter whether the jerk liked the steak or not? Hunter had had people criticize his food before. It came with the territory.
He shook his head in frustration and tried to block out the suspicion that if he searched deeper he would discover his anger had nothing to do with the philistine’s reaction to the food.
No, he wasn’t going to go there.
He stared at the business card Taylor had given him. For old time’s sake, she’d said. No strings.
It would be so easy to call her. She’s stunning and willing and…damn, I don’t want to think anymore… He wanted to get lost in the moment, revel in the physical sensations of making love.
He closed his eyes and tried to remember how it had been with Taylor, how it could be now with a simple phone call. But instead of pale skin, feline green eyes, and long blonde hair, all he could imagine was losing himself in the warm butterscotch cream of Nora’s willing body, drowning in her dark coffee eyes, and wrapping his hands around those thick waves of satiny curls.
Damn. I can’t leave things the way they are. He needed to talk to Nora, tell her he was sorry about what he’d said. She had tried to apologize, after all.
Hunter knew whomever she chose to go out with was her own business, but he felt some responsibility for her actions tonight. He was sure she had brought the jerk to prove a point to him. He should warn her about Bower. He was trouble—definitely not the type of guy Nora should be dating.
He dialed her cell phone and then slammed the receiver down in frustration as he heard it go directly to voice mail. This wasn’t the sort of thing you left on an answering machine. He tried calling several more times over the next hour with no luck.
Why isn’t she picking up?
Was she okay? Had she been mugged on the way home? Bower was staying in the hotel, but surely he would see that she got home okay. Maybe th
at was it. Maybe she was with him.
After the way that jerk had behaved tonight, Hunter couldn’t see it. But then, she had been very upset after Hunter had yelled at her. Perhaps Bower had comforted her. Was that why she wasn’t answering?
Not long ago he had imagined her lying in his bed, now he was unable to expel the image of her and Bower together, in this very hotel.
No. No way. She wouldn’t hop into bed with someone she barely knew. He may not know Nora all that well, but Hunter knew women, and Nora wasn’t the type, regardless of how angry or hurt she was.
So where was she?
He grabbed his car keys. He’d start with her apartment and work back from there.
****
Nora’s second-story walk-up was on a quiet, lamp-lined cul-de-sac in a working class neighborhood just outside the main downtown core.
Hunter eased his BMW into a parking spot across the street and gazed up at the building. Her apartment was dark. She was probably sleeping. That would explain why she hadn’t answered her phone. He should go. He could talk to her in the morning.
No. He had to be sure she was okay.
He stepped out of the car and crossed over to the building. After the hustle of downtown and the busyness of the hotel, the night seemed eerily quiet.
He was glad to see the entryway and stairwell were both well lit. Funny the things he noticed tonight that had completely escaped his attention last night. But then, last night he hadn’t really known her—or wanted to, if he was honest with himself.
Hunter wasn’t quite sure what had happened, but he knew things were different now. Maybe he just felt a sense of responsibility for her and her actions tonight. Whatever the reason, he had to make sure she was okay.
There were four apartments on each floor. Nora’s was at the end of the hallway and faced onto the street.