“Is John not joining us today?”
She resisted the urge to expel a frustrated growl and pulled a polite response from down deep. “Why would John being joining us?”
“How close are the two of you?” he asked, stepping an inch closer.
“I fail to see what that has to do with this tasting menu,” she said, swallowing down the lump determined to push into her throat.
She did not want to talk about John. She especially did not want to hear his name on this other man’s lips.
She set the plate down and briefly shut her eyes, working to dispel the images from last night, the way John had touched her...made love to her.
He made love to me?
The sex had been different, beautiful and tender, and while she loved his dominant side, there was something so deeply profound in what they’d shared.
Stop thinking about him.
“Anyway, so the menu—” She hoped to put Gavin’s focus back on what he was doing here, although she was beginning to wonder if she was wrong about that, considering he seemed more interested in John than the menu she’d spent hours working up for him.
“The thing is, Meg,” he said, pursing his lips and bracing his palms on the stainless steel counter, “I have this new start-up that’s launching and could use John’s help. He’s very good at what he does, and his price tag reflects that, but I was thinking we could work together here.”
“I think I’ve done quite a lot of work here already, on my own.” She could see her dreams of landing this contract flying out the window.
She could use a win today.
“You know. You scratch my back,” he said, his fingers toying with the edge of her printed-out menu as he gave it a quick glance. “And I’ll scratch yours, too.”
“Excuse me?” she bit out.
He rolled one shoulder and gave her a smile that was likely meant to put her at ease when what it really did was infuriate her. Her blood boiled, and she cast a glance sideways to see the wide-eyed look Jada was giving her.
She would do a lot of things for her business. A lot. But using John to further her career was not on today’s menu. She opened her mouth, about to tell Gavin that, when he cut her off.
“How does being the sole event caterer for my next five events sound?” Gavin cocked his head, smirking. “There’s the mayoral award ceremony we’ve discussed, of course. A music award ceremony after-party. Maybe even a celebrity wedding.”
The images danced in front of her face before shattering like a mirror and falling to her feet.
He didn’t give a shit what her food tasted like. Hell, he’d probably stumbled across some reference to John’s connection to her family before he’d ever called her—it was probably why he’d called her in the first place.
He might have called her after tasting her food, but she wasn’t fool enough to think John wasn’t the reason Gavin was back in her kitchen.
Meg is smart, talented and the best woman I know. She makes good choices.
As John’s words bounced around her brain like a pinball, she stared at the cocky man before her—a man used to getting his way. Honest to God, if this wasn’t the time to make a good choice, she had no idea what was. She could feel Jada staring at her, waiting to see what she was going to do next.
Well, Jada, watch me now.
“How about this,” she began, standing up for all the girls who felt they had no voice, for Jada as she watched this unravel and for the man she loved. “You hire me for your next five events because I’m the best goddamn outfit in Boston. My food speaks for itself and I’m damn good at my job. In fact, if you don’t make your booking today, there’s a good chance my schedule will fill up.”
Gavin’s head reared back, but she was far from done.
“John is an expert in his field, and I suggest if you want his input on your start-up, you can pay the price.” She stood straight as she ripped a sheet of paper from her planning notebook and held it out to him. “Speaking of prices, these are mine.”
Gavin’s nostrils flared, and little blotches of red dotted his face as she stood her ground. With Jada in the background, they all stared at each other, like they were in a goddamn Western standoff. Meg wanted the job, sure, but she wasn’t going let this man walk all over her, and more important, she was going to protect John.
And why is that, Meg?
Because she damn well loved him.
“Take it or leave it, Gavin.”
His gaze finally lowered, and his expression was undetectable as he looked over her quote, which she wasn’t going to be budging on.
Without words, he pulled a contract from inside his suit pocket and slapped it down onto the counter.
“Courier it over once it’s signed,” he said, spinning on the toes of his leather shoes and storming for the door.
The second he left, Meg gasped, and Jada’s arms were around her.
“Will you be my mommy?” Jada bounced up and down on her toes. “Or marry me? Be my Facebook BFF? I’ll take what I can get. That was amazing.”
“I cannot believe I did that.” She swallowed thickly, sitting heavily on a stool. “Holy shit.”
“You showed him,” Jada said. “How dare he think he can use you to get to John, and for free? What a douche.”
Meg laughed, feeling a bit lighter, as her thoughts went to John. He’d have been proud of her, standing up for herself like that. She wished he’d been here to see it.
“Speaking of John,” Jada began, eyeing Meg from beneath her fake lashes, “you should go tell him what you just did. Let him take you out for champagne to celebrate.”
“He’s leaving,” Meg blurted out. She glanced down at the Gavin menu to hide the tears suddenly pricking her eyes.
“What do you mean?” Jada blinked, confused. “Where’s he going?”
“On to the next job.” Meg laughed, and the sound held no humor. “He’s a nomad, you know? He’s off to the next job.”
“But...” Jada tilted her head. “Why?”
“I just told you.” Meg frowned at her assistant. “He’s done this job. He’s going to the next one. We had a fling, and now it is over.”
“Bullshit. I saw how you two are with each other.” Jada rolled her eyes as Meg looked at her with surprise. “I just witnessed you fighting for what you want, Meg. If you love John, why aren’t you fighting for him, too?”
As the room spun before her eyes, she gripped the counter. Jada was right. She was a woman who fought for what she wanted, and what she wanted was John in her life—one way or the other.
So...what are you going to do about it?
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
NO MATTER HOW pissed off he was at the world, John couldn’t leave Boston without talking to Theo. He paced the small space of the elevator, and when the doors opened, he nodded to Ava.
“Hey, thanks for everything.” He stopped at her desk. He hadn’t had a chance to order her a gift as planned, so instead, he handed her a business card to Amy’s tattoo parlor.
“What’s this?” She looked at it quizzically.
“I’ve heard you talking about wanting your first tattoo.” He pointed at the card. “That’s Meg—I mean, Jo’s sister. Go there and get what you want. Tell her to bill it to me.”
“Wow. Thank you. Really.” She grinned up at him, clearly delighted. “Now I can get that tattoo of your name on my ass.”
He snorted. “Just make sure you spell it right.”
“Theo’s in his office,” she continued, tucking the card under her keyboard. “And I hate to break it to you, but I think he knows about you and Meg.”
“Yeah.” John winced, then moved down the hall. “Thanks.”
Theo. Meg.
Damn.
How could he walk away from Meg?
How could he not when she’d m
ade it clear that they were done?
Heart in his shoes, he stopped outside Theo’s office. The door was open, but Theo had his head bent over his laptop.
John’s heart squeezed as he looked at his friend. Did this mean the end of them, too?
He thought of that night, just a week ago, at Grapes of Wrath. He’d been on top of the world.
How had he managed to screw things up so spectacularly?
“Hey,” he said, and Theo glanced up. His features hardened when his gaze landed on John.
“Are you still here?” he asked.
John stepped into the office. “Did you expect me to leave without saying goodbye?”
“I guess I don’t know what to expect from you anymore.”
“Fair enough,” John said. “But I just want to say thanks for a great couple of months.”
Theo snorted, and John stiffened. “I’m sorry for going behind your back. I never meant to do that.”
“But you did it anyway.”
“And I’m apologizing for that.”
“Just for that, huh?” Theo pushed back in his chair and stared out the window for a second. “Not for screwing Meg over?”
“I didn’t screw her over.” John’s voice was full of frustration. “I...care about her.”
His gaze slowly moved back to John’s. “Then why are you leaving?”
“Hi, pot, kettle calling.” Frustration building inside him, he crossed the room and plunked himself down into the chair across from Theo’s desk. “Didn’t you leave Jo for years?”
“That was different.” Theo was indignant. “I loved her.”
John eyed him from across the desk. Theo’s mouth fell open. And then he laughed.
“Hey,” John protested, irritation closing in. “This isn’t funny. I love her, and I have to go. It sucks.”
“You’re an idiot,” Theo informed him, settling his elbows on his desk and pinning John with a stare.
“I thought the name-calling portion of the evening was done last night.” John glared. “What am I an idiot about? Please enlighten me.”
“Look. I lost years with Jo because we were both so stubborn.” Theo leaned forward in his seat. “You don’t have to. Go, finish your contract, then come back. There’s enough work here in Boston to take you into retirement.”
“What?” John blinked at his friend. This was so simple. This was brilliant. How had he not thought of this? “Do you... Do you think she’d wait? This contract is for three months.”
“FaceTime sex,” Theo told him gravely. “Jo’s working on a post about it right now.”
“Won that one, did she?” John grinned at his friend as his thoughts circled, faster and faster.
“Lesson to a happy life with one of the Marchande girls, my friend. Pick your battles.”
Sound advice.
And this... Asking Meg to wait... This battle was worth picking.
John pushed from his chair, his heart thumping against his rib cage. “Are we...okay?”
“Yeah, we’re okay,” Theo said. “Now, go do what you need to do.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
MEG SPRINKLED TINY silver balls of sugar on top of the swirls of icing that she’d tinted lavender, lilac and amethyst. Patting them into place, she slid the plate of cupcakes onto the island. The timer beeped, and she turned expertly to remove a sheet of chocolate cookies with dried cherries and macadamia nuts from the oven.
“How is everything?” Setting the pan on the counter to cool, she wiped her forehead, then turned back to the island in the cramped kitchen of their house. She stopped short when she found that, instead of face-planting into the various treats that crowded the kitchen, her sisters all sat with empty plates, eyeing her warily. “Hey! Why aren’t you guys eating anything?”
“You’re stress cooking,” Beth informed her, eyeing a pan of brownies. “You even made me healthy brownies without me begging.”
“Two kinds!” Meg chirped, placing a second pan next to the first. “Avocado and black bean.”
Beth didn’t move, so Meg rolled her eyes and scooped one of them onto her sister’s plate.
“My spidey sense tells me something is wrong,” Jo started, finally selecting one of the violet cupcakes. “I feel like maybe sharing would be good for you.”
“Maybe we can help,” Beth added, shaking her long purple-tipped hair back over her shoulders. “Come on. Spill.”
“Does it maybe have to do with a certain someone leaving town today?” Jo asked delicately. She startled visibly when Meg whirled on her, pointing a frosting-covered spatula at her.
“Why?” Meg waved the spatula through the air. “What did Theo say?”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake.” Rolling her eyes, Amy pushed back from the island and stormed out of the room. All three remaining sisters looked after her as they listened to her steps thundering up the stairs and then back down. She stalked back into the kitchen with a pair of high heels dangling from her hands.
“Hey!” Meg frowned at her. “Those are mine.”
“I know,” Amy replied, holding them up and shaking them. “These are the Via Spigas that you got on clearance at Neiman Marcus, right? The ones you love more than you love Jo?”
“I’d argue with that, except it’s true.” Since Meg was distracted, Jo stole the icing-covered spatula from her hand, then licked it. “You make the best vanilla buttercream.”
“What are you doing with my shoes?” Wiping her hands on her apron, Meg grabbed for them; Amy feinted back. “What are you doing?”
“Come clean.” Shifting both shoes to one hand, Amy lifted the lid off a huge pot of sauce that had been simmering on the stove all afternoon.
“Come clean about what?” Meg blinked innocently at Amy, who snorted.
“Come on. You’ll feel better.” Amy wiggled the pair of shoes, and Meg sucked in a deep breath. “Spit it out, or it’s Via Spiga bolognese.”
Meg watched her sister warily, not making any sudden moves with her favorite shoes in such a precarious position. She glared at Amy, who lowered them an inch closer to the sauce.
“Fine!” Meg reached for the shoes, and Amy shook her head, gesturing for her to speak. Meg ground her teeth together before biting out the words. “I’ve been sleeping with John, okay? Are you happy now?”
“John, John?” Beth asked. “Like, Theo’s John?”
“There’s a sexy mental picture.” Jo’s dreamy grin faded when Meg glared at her. “Sorry.”
“Yes. That John.” This time when she reached for her shoes, Amy handed them over. Meg hugged them to her chest as she sank onto a stool.
“Okay,” Beth replied slowly, her pretty face a study of confusion. “And this is causing much angst, why?”
“Because she wuvssss him,” Amy interjected. Meg snarled. “Whoa, dude. Just trying to lighten the mood. I didn’t realize it was that serious.”
“It’s not. It can’t be.” Meg scrubbed her hands over her face. “It just... It got serious fast. And now he’s gone. And it sucks. And I’m going to eat cake.”
Her sisters remained where they were, silent. Defiant, Meg picked up a cupcake. Lifting it to her mouth, she inhaled it in three bites.
The doorbell rang as she reached for another. Amy left to answer, and a second later, she yelled from the front door.
“Meg! Package for you!”
Sighing, Meg set the second cupcake down, pushing away from the stool. She pointed at her sisters before exiting the kitchen. “I expect some of this to be eaten when I get back.”
Heading down the hall, she rounded the corner to the front entryway, then gasped.
John was standing there, silhouetted by the front door. He was dressed in his pricey-looking jeans again, and another crisp polo, this one forest green. He looked good enough to eat.
“I thoug
ht you were already gone.” She froze ten feet away from him, then glanced at Amy, who was leaning against the wall, arms crossed over her chest, her most menacing scowl on her face. “Hey, could we maybe get some privacy?”
Amy smirked as she pushed off the wall. Before she left, she lifted two fingers, gesturing to her eyes, then to John, her meaning clear—she was watching him. When she’d gone, John exhaled a breath.
“She’s kind of scary.” He frowned. “I shouldn’t say that about your sister.”
“I take it as a compliment!” Amy popped back around the corner, making them both jolt. “Boo!”
“Amy!” Meg made a shooing gesture at her youngest sister, who grinned but thumped her way back to the kitchen. Meg turned her attention back to John. “What are you doing here?”
“I don’t like how we left things.” He shifted toward her, then thought twice, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “Look... I just want you to understand that I have to go finish out this contract. I signed it. They’re counting on me.”
“I understand. Of course, I do.” Meg’s voice was hoarse. “It just... This whole situation sucks. It sucks.”
“I’m not saying this right.” He ran a finger over his head. “I have to finish this contract. But then...then I’m going to come back.”
“What?” She strode three steps forward before consciously deciding to. “I don’t understand.”
“I’ve been working my entire life to give myself the security I didn’t have as a kid.” He rocked back on his heels. “Today, Theo pointed out that I have that security now. I can do what I want.”
“Oh.” She was afraid to breathe, afraid that suddenly he’d take back these words that were lifting her like a magic carpet. “And...what do you want to do?”
“I’m not sure yet.” He paused thoughtfully. “I could continue at Crossing Lines probably. Go work with Lhane. Start my own charity. I don’t really know.”
Her spirits, so recently lifted, started to deflate yet again. He was only talking about his work opportunities—nothing about her. About them.
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