“Lucy!” Jasmine croaked out a shocked laugh, as racy images flitted through her mind, but her grandmother had disappeared through the swinging doors into the kitchen.
Leaning her elbows on the bar, Jasmine felt her nipples tighten involuntarily as she recalled Micah’s packed, athletic build. His white short-sleeved polo shirt and pressed khaki shorts, with just enough bulge in all the right places, and none of the wrong ones.
She licked her lips and drank the rest of her ginger ale to cool off.
Lucy reemerged and Jasmine crossed her arms over her chest.
“What are you standing around for?” Lucy called out, as she went to the front door and locked it. “Time to prep for dinner.”
Jasmine slipped under the counter, rather than lift it up. “I’m on it.”
“Whew, girl,” Lucy said, walking back. “You make me nervous every time you do that.”
“I’m ok. Besides it’s good for my thighs.”
“Honey, I can’t even remember a time when I was able to squat that low.”
She gave Lucy a hug. “Why don’t you go up to your room and rest? Donnie, Gloria and I will handle prep.”
Every dish at Lucy’s Bar and Grille was made from fresh ingredients. Even the spices were freshly ground just before use.
“I guess you’re right. I could use a little nap.” Lucy wiped her brow. “I hope I’m not keeping you from whatever it is you kids do these days. I love having you here, but—”
“And I love being here,” Jasmine interrupted. “We’ve got a lot of missed time to make up for, don’t we?”
“We certainly do, and I’m treasuring every moment.”
Jasmine backed against one of the swinging doors to hold it open so her grandmother could pass. At the end of the kitchen, which smelled of roasted chicken, allspice and thyme, there was a short hallway with stairs that led up to a small apartment, which she shared with Lucy.
Although Jasmine had a fair amount of money in her savings account, she wanted to take her time to find her own place. She was hoarding her tips to get her stuff out of storage, when the time came. For her, Bay Point was not only a place to reconnect with her grandmother. She hoped it would be a refuge.
After she got Lucy settled upstairs, she went back down and started to cut onions, while Gloria sliced the potatoes. She was almost finished when Donnie informed her she had a call.
She swung into the main dining area and picked up the cordless at the hostess station. “Lucy’s. This is Jasmine Kennedy. How can I help you?”
“Miss Kennedy. That sounds so presidential.”
The man’s low baritone voice, sounding vaguely familiar, sent a chill up her spine.
“Who is this?” she demanded in a sharp voice.
Donnie stopped stacking the highball glasses and frowned.
“Micah Langston.”
“Oh,” she said, letting Donnie know with a nod that everything was okay.
“Forget me so soon? I haven’t forgotten about you.”
Now that she knew who he was, his intimate insinuation transformed the chill in her spine into a pool of heat in her belly.
She sank onto a bar stool, not expecting to hear from him so soon, or even at all.
“What can I do for you, Micah?”
“I think I left my pen, a black Mont Blanc, very expensive, there at the bar. Can you check for me?”
Jasmine furrowed her brow. Pharmaceutical sales reps, who had Bay Point Community Hospital in their territories, often stopped in for breakfast or lunch on the way in or out of town. She distinctly remembered giving Micah a pen imprinted with the brand name of some kind of drug, but she’d humor the man. Besides, where would he have kept it? The polo shirt he’d worn had no pockets.
“Sure, hold on,” she said, and set the phone upright on the bar.
Just for kicks, she did check near where he sat, but there was nothing but some food scraps on the floor. Not from him, she knew, but from the previous customer who routinely dropped food in his lap, while talking to his coworker.
“I’m sorry, but there’s nothing here.”
“Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong.”
She narrowed her eyes. “What are you talking about?”
“You do have what I’m seeking. You just don’t know it yet.”
He sighed and the low sound vibrated, soft and sexy, against her ear as though he were right next to her.
Suddenly she knew what he was implying and her loins pulsed with need. And though he’d made her go chasing for something that didn’t exist, she found him very exciting.
She sucked in a breath, and he chuckled softly.
“Get lost, Micah,” she said, disconnecting the call.
Jasmine stuck her hands in her apron and brought out his receipt. She examined his signature, or autograph she supposed, if she were a fan, which she most definitely was not. Her eyes traced his phone number, committing it to memory.
Time for a fling? Perhaps.
Time for love? Not a chance.
Chapter 2
Micah chuckled as he pulled up to his parents’ beachfront estate. With Jasmine’s sexy New Orleans drawl still in his ear, his body hummed with desire. Even though she’d hung up on him, the call energized him.
Coming home always brought back the guilt that he’d left in the first place.
His parents were never happy with his decision to stay away from Bay Point after culinary school. Because of their deep roots in the community, they’d wanted him to start a business there, but he’d refused and his relationship with them had suffered.
It was important to him to make his own way, with or without their blessing. That feeling hadn’t changed, although sometimes he wished things could have been different between them.
The briny ocean breeze hit him as soon as he stepped out of his air-conditioned car. He got his suitcase from the back seat, relieved to see that there were no other vehicles in the area adjacent to the circular driveway.
His brothers, Gregory and Marlon, always parked their cars in the attached six-car garage on the other side of the Spanish-style home. His parents loved to entertain on a regular basis, but it looked like tonight would be a family-only affair.
Micah felt a pain in his gut knowing that after ten years as a successful chef and restaurant owner, his parents still didn’t respect his choice of a career.
This time, I won’t let them get to me.
The scent of sand and seaweed further boosted his positive mood as he wheeled his suitcase up the red brick path to the front door. He punched in the security code, went in and stowed his bag next to the curved staircase, just outside the expansive foyer.
He slipped off his shoes and peeked in the library, which his father also used as an office. It was empty, so he strode into the large living room. The floor-to-ceiling windows bathed the space in late afternoon light and he could see everyone had gathered outside.
Micah closed the patio door behind him and was soon enveloped in his mother’s embrace.
“It’s good to have you home, son.”
“For a small woman, you pack some powerful hugs,” Micah joked, giving her a tight squeeze back.
Helen Langston, only five feet tall, was a giant of philanthropy in Bay Point, raising thousands of dollars for causes she cared about. In her early sixties, her demeanor with her children was often cool and distant, but in public and at parties she always turned on the charm. Impeccably dressed, even when just relaxing at home, her short coppery-brown hair was always cut in the latest style.
“I’ve been saving them up for a while,” she said, after releasing her grip.
Gregory, the middle Langston, was lounging on a chaise. He uncrossed his ankles but did not get up.
“You can thank me for getting him back in town. I’m the one trying to get
him to open up a restaurant here.”
Micah strolled over. “Lying down on the job again, Mayor? At least give me a proper greeting.”
He picked up Gregory’s legs and swung them out of the way so he could sit down, ignoring his brother’s protests.
“Okay, but I’m warning you, if I shake your hand, it’s a done deal.”
Micah got the hint and stood, a wry smile on his face, knowing his brother was dead serious. “My partners and I bought the building, but as you already know, we haven’t decided whose restaurant will be utilizing the space.”
Marlon, the eldest brother, strode over and draped an arm around his shoulders. He gave him a gruff, but hearty squeeze that almost caused Micah to trip over his own feet.
“If Gregory’s big tax breaks won’t work, can I tempt you with one of my not-so-famous mango margaritas?”
“Made with farm-fresh, organic ingredients?”
“Don’t ask, just drink,” Marlon teased.
Micah reached around and punched his brother’s right shoulder, a funny kind of “man hug” that was a tradition with them.
“Hangover coming right up.”
Marlon walked to the wrought iron patio table and grabbed a pitcher.
Micah chuckled when he poured a healthy serving of the frosty beverage into a margarita glass.
“Leave the man alone,” his father admonished. “Be glad he had the decency to grace us with his presence this time.”
Theodore (Theo) Langston swirled his half-filled glass of scotch and water from his seat under the edge of the table’s huge umbrella, setting himself apart from the family as usual. It occurred to Micah that he was somewhat like him, but in the next moment, he told himself that wasn’t true.
His father, a well-known personal injury attorney had the kind of class and style that could never be duplicated even though he was sometimes accused of being an ambulance chaser, mostly by jealous peers who couldn’t get, nor handle, his caseload. He dealt in slips and falls, auto accidents, medical malpractice and other injuries, for clients in Bay Point and surrounding cities in Northern California.
“Bad day at work, Dad?” Micah asked, dragging over a chair next to him. The harsh sound of iron on stone made everyone wince.
“Nah, the usual.” Theo raised his glass before draining the contents. “Since your brother became the mayor two years ago, my business has tripled, but I’m not complaining.”
He rubbed his stomach and turned to his mother. “When is dinner? I’m starving.”
She consulted her bracelet wristwatch, a family heirloom. Even though Micah wasn’t in to jewelry, the bone china face with tiny hands, surrounded in diamonds, always awed him. The elegance of the piece suited her perfectly.
“You know your father won’t eat a minute earlier than six p.m.”
Micah sighed. His family drove him crazy, but for the most part, they were normal. Still, he wasn’t so sure he liked being back home.
He stared at the ornate balcony that wrapped around the entire second floor. Growing up, the view from his room had beckoned him. First as a child watching the clouds move and the sun peek out, like his toes from under the bed sheets. Then as an adult, the view of the sun meant heat and surfing and pretty girls, and if he was lucky, a lot of sex.
There was Delores, his first, at age fourteen. Three years older with a driver’s license and a pierced tongue. Body shaped like one of his surfboards, small breasts, thin lips, she knew how to ride him. Whenever they made out, she had to tap him on the mouth to remind him to breathe again.
He wanted to breathe, soft and hot, with Jasmine, her accent curling his ear, her beautiful body cuddled against him. And then what?
I take off, he thought, just like the others.
Micah finished his margarita, his mind a whirl of thoughts as he fought again his desire for a woman he’d met only hours before.
He wouldn’t end up like Gregory who’d taken the plunge and married nearly two years ago. Vanessa was a florist and sole owner of Blooms in Paradise, a flower shop close to City Hall. They’d been childhood playmates that made mud pies and swung swings together. Now they were making babies.
“Where are Vanessa and little Lily?”
“Our sweet pumpkin has a bit of the sniffles so Vanessa decided to stay home and play it safe,” Gregory said.
Helen, who was delighted at having a grandchild, and a girl at that, frowned.
“She’s barely six months old. A cold could be dangerous. Was she seen by a doctor?”
“Yes, the very best,” Gregory replied. “Her grandfather.”
Helen closed her eyes briefly. “Of course she’d be seen by Vanessa’s father. He’s still chief of emergency, isn’t he?”
Gregory nodded. “Yes, and refuses to retire.”
“Likely because he would find himself with a new job, as your full-time babysitter,” Marlon drawled.
“Vanessa enjoys being at home,” Gregory shot back in a peeved tone. “Jewel is always happy to help out on our date nights.”
“She’s a nice woman,” Helen replied. “I’m glad you get along with your mother-in-law.”
Gregory gave her a kiss on the cheek, teasing. “I’m glad she gets along with you.”
She turned away. “What’s that supposed to mean? I’m easy to talk to.”
“In a crowd, perhaps, but not at home,” Marlon said, knowing everyone agreed with him. “You can be moody, Mom.”
“Why do you think Dad has to have two drinks before dinner?” Micah piped in.
“No,” his father insisted, drawing out the word. “It’s because I like them.”
“Wrong, Theo.” Helen placed a hand on his arm. “You like your little scotch and waters because you like to be right, and sometimes, when your sons or I am around, you have to admit you’re wrong.”
Micah popped on his phone. “It’s six o’clock. Time to go inside and chow down. I want to stop by the restaurant space and check it out before it gets too dark.”
The family left the patio and went through the living room to the formal dining room where Ginny Binslow, the Langstons’ longtime personal chef, was about to serve dinner. Micah didn’t know exactly how old she was, but she was like a second mother to him.
“I cooked your favorites,” she said, brown eyes in a round face gleaming. “Roast pork, mashed potatoes, fresh green beans and apple pie.”
“Thanks, you’re a doll.” Micah greeted her warmly with a peck on each cheek. “And if you want to hightail it out of this place, you know who to call.”
Ginny was the one who introduced him to a love of cooking by letting him help her prepare the meals at a very young age. He made his first Thanksgiving turkey by age seven, and won his first baking contest at age ten. She’d inspired and encouraged him to become a chef, much to the dismay of Helen, who only set foot in the kitchen to get to the second wing of the estate.
“Stop trying to steal Ginny,” Helen commanded, as they gathered around the large oak table.
Theo and Helen each sat at a head of the table, Gregory and Marlon on the side closest to the windows, and Micah opposite them. He felt like his two brothers were about to play good cop, bad cop, but at least he had a great view of the Pacific.
“Yeah, I’m hoping he’ll steal the hearts of Bay Pointers with his fabulous food,” Gregory said, accepting a platter of pork from Theo.
“If you need an architect, I know just the person. Liza Marbet. She designed the new cosmetic surgery clinic that opened six months ago. Her husband, Anthony owns it.”
“They had a huge gala there to celebrate the grand opening,” Gregory said. “Mom was in her element.”
“Dr. Marbet is a brilliant plastic surgeon. Although I don’t need their services, I did stop in to take a look,” Helen said. “It’s spa-like modern with clean lines and just enough oomph to m
ake the space seem very personal.”
“Sounds nice, but I’ve got to get clearance on some building permits before I think about design.”
“I can take care of that, bro.” Gregory said. “Whatever you need.”
Micah dug in to his mashed potatoes and thought a moment before saying his next words. He didn’t want to offend his brother, but he had to make a few things clear.
“Gregory, I just want to make sure that nobody in town finds out about this project.”
His brother chewed, swallowed and stared at him. The other members of his family did the same.
“What’s the big secret?” Theo barked, waving a fork in the air. “Any new restaurant is great for business downtown. Yours is sure to be an instant hit.”
“More restaurants equal more competition, and some businesses can’t handle that,” Micah replied, surprised at his father’s positive comment. Maybe he was slowly coming around to the fact that his son was happy being a chef.
“I think he’s worried about generating buzz before any real decisions have been made,” Marlon guessed. “At this point, all you’ve done is buy the building.”
“Not me, personally,” Micah corrected. “It was purchased by a shell company managed by my business partners in order to make it difficult to trace back to me, to protect my privacy. But you’re right, I really need to keep a lid on this, and I’ll need everyone’s help.”
“We won’t tell a single living soul,” Helen said, patting his hand as her eyes met those of her husband and sons. “The Langston’s always stick together.”
Marlon made a big show of twisting his fingers to his mouth and fake-throwing away the key. He yowled when Gregory nudged him in the ribs. Even though he was the oldest, sometimes he was the least serious.
“The nondisclosure agreement the city signed helps, too,” Gregory affirmed. “But of course the family won’t breathe a word.”
Micah thanked them, and they continued with the meal.
The sun had nearly set over the Pacific, rendering the sky in painted stripes of orange and pink over twilight blue.
He had second helpings while Gregory and Theo argued over political issues, both local and national. Helen and Marlon talked about the books they were reading. He stayed quiet, and found his thoughts turning to Jasmine.
Winning Her Heart Page 3