by Taylor Dean
He used to adore her and she adored him right back. She’d been head over heels for this man. He made the mundane seem fascinating. Jill loved the masculine way in which he tucked his hands in his pockets, the way he squeezed his earlobe when he was deep in thought, the way he finger combed his hair as if it made any difference whatsoever, and sometimes she even loved the simple sound of his breathing. It was comforting in a way she couldn’t explain.
He braked hard at the stoplight and looked at her, his expression granite. Jill returned his gaze with a withering stare of her own. It was time for a much needed showdown. The problem is, when you’re a twenty-three year old, four-foot-eleven, blond-haired, brown-eyed wisp of a girl, it’s extremely hard to appear tough.
“Orange is not my color,” he said, opting for levity.
Perhaps Jill ought to let humor dominate this ridiculous scheme of his. Bursting into tears was not an option. They were both silent for a moment, challenging each other with their stares. With his light brown hair, startlingly blue eyes, and olive complexion, she begged to differ. Anything looked good on Lucas Graham. His military short haircut left her missing the usual length on the top of his head and the way each strand artfully stood up and curved backwards. It gave him a well-manicured yet natural I-wake-up-and-my-hair-looks-like-this appearance. Jill also missed the perfectly trimmed stubble that usually covered his chin.
“I hear prison is a barrel of laughs for a cop. A good looking guy like you will be quite popular.” Jill oozed sarcasm into every word, wishing she could just once say something remotely funny.
“Popularity is overrated,” he said, his eyes blinking long and slow.
For once hating his ever-calm demeanor, Jill tore her gaze away and stared out the windshield morosely. Luke was an inordinately handsome man. No doubt about that. But his good looks wouldn’t be enough to get him out of kidnapping charges. Jill couldn’t believe he’d resorted to abducting her. How had they come to this?
Luke was the man she’d once loved with every fiber of her being. He’d been her entire universe; her sun, moon, and stars. Then he’d broken her heart. Not just broken it, he’d stomped on it and shattered it into a million tiny pieces.
He’d jilted her one month ago, almost exactly one month before their wedding. A portion of the invitations had already been mailed, the ones she’d finished addressing. Her mother had promptly sent out “postponed till further notice” cards—a polite way of saying “the wedding’s OFF.” The “further notice” gave everyone hope that all would soon be remedied, when everyone knew it wouldn’t be.
The bride had been dumped.
Okay, maybe dumped was too harsh of a word. Life circumstances had prevented their marriage. Jill had no idea if “further notice” had a snowball’s chance in a very hot place of ever happening or not. Luke had been deliberately vague where their future was concerned. His actions had left her wondering about the level of his commitment. Had he ever been in love with her as much as she’d been in love with him? The answer seemed obvious to Jill. When it came to Luke, confusion dominated her thoughts. She’d been so confident in their love. Luke had quickly destroyed that confidence.
Perhaps their broken engagement could be labeled as “Possibly prolonged.” Or “Maybe, baby.” How about “Someday soon?”
Never mind. No two ways about it. She’d been dumped.
The alterations on her stunning dress had been complete. The flowers had been ordered. The cake had been chosen, the venue reserved.
All cancelled.
Details. Details. A bunch of minutiae that suddenly didn’t matter.
Looking at him, talking to him, brought it all back. And it hurt. Luke was “the one that got away,” the man she’d always love with all of her heart.
That fact alone explained her ignore-and-evade actions. But she certainly wasn’t about to announce her feelings.
Luke, I’m still in love with you. I can’t see you because it hurts too much.
Why did he want to see her anyway? Nothing had changed. Their circumstances were the same.
He had spent Thursday—yesterday—trying to reach her. She’d give him that. Jill remembered lying in bed in her mom’s guestroom, the insistent sound of the doorbell and determined knocking awakening her from a deep sleep. She often slept late. Working as a chef for the dinner shift at Chateau kept her up until two a.m. most nights. Ten a.m. was bright and early for her. Eight a.m. was practically the middle of the night.
2
Luke and Jill
April 2003
One Day Earlier
The muffled sounds of voices from her mother’s front doorstep, one distinctly male, made her slowly raise her head from her much-sought-after pillow. Leaning over, she peeked through the slats of the blinds to see Luke’s truck parked outside, angled crookedly next to the curbside as if the driver was in a hurry.
Luke?
The sight made her sit up much too quickly, causing a major head rush. Feeling frozen, she stared forlornly at nothing in particular as if in a trance, seeing nothing, her mind going on warp speed. What did he want? Why was he here?
How was he here?
His Army Reserve unit had been deployed to Iraq a month ago. He was going to be gone for at least a year. Maybe more. Currently, his orders were open-ended.
She could hardly think beyond the one year mark. Life was easier when taken one day at a time. Three hundred and sixty five long days. Every single minute would be the equivalent of a football minute.
Of course one year, or even more, seemed like nothing when compared to an entire lifetime without Luke.
Jill couldn’t handle the “lifetime” thought and dismissed it from her mind. She had barely come to terms with the fact that she wouldn’t see Luke for a year—that her eyes wouldn’t rest upon his handsome features, that her ears wouldn’t hear the soothing sound of his voice, that her lips wouldn’t experience his tender kiss—and now here he was, banging on her mother’s front door.
Her heartbeat settled in her ears, her hands and feet tingled as if they’d fallen asleep. She couldn’t act, she couldn’t move, she couldn’t even think straight.
Shock got the best of her and Jill couldn’t face him. No way.
Her mind wandered to a glorious reunion wherein she ran into the living room and jumped into his arms, straddled him, and smothered his face with kisses.
Sadly, that wouldn’t happen. He’d ended things between them before he left. The last she’d heard from him was through a generous check, reimbursing herself and her mother for the cancelled wedding expenses. If it hadn’t been for the fact that her mother was involved, she would’ve torn the check into a million angry pieces.
Her mom offered a perfunctory knock on the door, then entered. She stopped short when met with Jill’s glazed eyes.
“He wants to talk to you,” her mom said, making no explanations as to who “he” was.
“No,” Jill said in no uncertain terms. “No, I can’t.”
“He said it’s vitally important, Jill. He’s come a long way. Perhaps you ought to . . .”
“No. I can’t,” Jill said again, unable to put together a complete sentence. She needed some alone time before seeing Luke again, time to pull herself together.
“Life can be filled with regret. Don’t make this one of those moments.”
“I can’t see him right now, Mom. I can’t face him yet.” Her limbs still tingled from shock. She’d probably take one look at him and fall into a dead faint. How embarrassing.
“His time is limited, Jill. He only has four days.”
“Later. I’ll see him later.” Much, much later. When she’d come to terms with seeing him again.
Her mother seemed disappointed, but accepted her decision.
“Please, Mom, I . . .”
Linda Barrett sensed her daughter’s despair. “I know, sweetheart, and I do understand. I’ll tell him.”
Forever thankful for her mama bear of a mother, Jill collapsed
onto the bed, knowing Lucas Graham would absolutely not be allowed into her inner sanctum.
Perhaps she was being childish in refusing to see him, but she wasn’t sure her heart could survive it. The thought that he might want to restart their relationship already lingered in her mind. One visit from Lucas Graham and she instantaneously saw them back together again.
Pathetic.
Besides, how could she face him when she was engaged to another man?
It was ten minutes later when Jill heard the defeated rumble of Luke’s truck as he left. It made her wonder what they’d talked about for those ten minutes.
“You okay?” her mom asked as she peeked her head into the room.
Jill nodded. They both knew she wasn’t okay. Sometimes pretending everything was fine and dandy was so much easier than being sad. The wrinkle between her mother’s eyebrows told her how worried she was about her and she felt bad for causing her so much anxiety. It was time to pick up the pieces of her life and return to her own apartment. It was still stacked with all the paraphernalia needed to prepare for a wedding and Jill hadn’t wanted to face it. Hiding out at her mom’s house, living in the guestroom, had given her permission to cry like a baby and act like a child. Knowing her mother was always there to ground her when her emotions swung out of control had been a huge comfort.
Now it was time to be an adult again. But she couldn’t succeed if baby steps were all she allowed herself to take. Her life had turned into a game of “Mother, May I?” Only it had nothing to do with asking her mother for permission. It had to do with progress. It was time for giant steps. Going back to work had been the first giant step. Now it was time to face her abandoned apartment—that ought to account for four huge giant steps at least. It would definitely be a step in the right direction.
But Luke had the power to send her back to the starting line. And she wasn’t going back.
Feeling somewhat bemused, Jill tried to regain some semblance of normalcy for the day. She walked on the treadmill, ate breakfast, showered, paid a few bills, and dressed for work. Although an elephant now resided in the living room, she didn’t mention Luke’s visit and neither did her mother.
Even though she had sixteen missed calls from Luke.
Every time her cell chimed through the house, her mother’s eyebrows flew halfway up her forehead and she shot Jill an expectant look.
Jill couldn’t bring herself to answer and promptly placed her phone on silent and buried the annoying device under a couch pillow. Then she stared out the living room window for an hour, lost in thought, feeling as though acid was burning a hole in her stomach. Why are you back, Luke? What do you want from me? She wanted to see him so much, people on the street began to resemble him. Like something out of a Twilight Zone episode, every face suddenly boasted Lucas Graham’s handsome mug. Jill shook her head, moved away from the window, and flipped on the TV in an attempt to distract herself. She was losing it. Their postman wasn’t Luke. Nor was the UPS man. And the teenage boy on a skateboard wearing baggy jeans definitely wasn’t Luke. As for the elderly man walking his dog, he was much too old to be Luke.
When Luke appeared on the TV trying to sell her detergent that would make her dishes sparkle, she gave up and flicked the TV off. His face was haunting her.
However, as she drove to work through the downtown streets of Dallas, she spotted Luke’s truck in her rearview mirror—directly behind her. Unless she was hallucinating, he sat in the driver’s seat and was tailing her. What in the world did he think he was doing?
Jill glanced at the driver next to her. It was a total stranger. Only the one behind her looked like Luke. It was really him. At least she wasn’t seeing things.
He couldn’t follow her into the private parking garage, but as she made her way to the elevator, she saw him lurking outside the gate, watching her.
“Jill!” she heard him say. Her heart stopped in her chest at the sound.
“I’m late for work,” Jill yelled and hurried inside, never giving Luke a chance to speak. Quickly, she changed into her chef uniform. First rule of the kitchen: chefs do not travel to and from work in their chef coat. Culinary school had drilled that much into her.
By then her hands were visibly shaking, not exactly ideal conditions for wielding a razor sharp chef’s knife. Somehow she made it through the afternoon, in spite of ruining nearly everything she touched.
“Jill, keep it together, will ya?” the head chef hollered. “You’re off your game tonight.”
“Yes, Chef.”
TV viewers thought Hell’s Kitchen was dramatized. It wasn’t. Eric, the head chef, one-upped Mr. Ramsay on every level. The man didn’t know how to speak quietly. He spent his life yelling. Sometimes Jill pictured him hugging his wife while shouting, “I LOVE YOU.”
Kitchen work tended to be an abrasive culture, but in real life no one cared and didn’t take it personally. Everyone just wanted to get the job done as quickly and efficiently as possible.
“Jill, no knives in the sink. Hands go in the sink!” Eric hollered again. It was one of his pet peeves.
“Yes, Chef.” She knew better. Her mind was elsewhere tonight.
Jill had worked the garde manger station for two years now. Normally it was considered an entry level position in a kitchen. But she enjoyed the station so much, she’d never moved on. It took two to man the station, but on her shift Jill took it over and it was her territory and hers alone. No assistant needed. Chateau was a five-star restaurant, pricey and elegant. Telling people she was the garde manger chef did not sound impressive. After all, she was in charge of the appetizers and the salads. Nothing special, right?
Wrong. Unlike many garde manger positions, she spent her time at Chateau preparing classical dishes. Her favorite was charcuterie, making such things with ground meat as guinea hen pâté with raisin marmalade or various terrines. Terrines were similar to pâtés, but the ingredients were much more coarsely chopped than in a traditional pâté.
Each night it was her job to come up with something amazing to offer as the amuse-bouche for the evening’s service. Everything in the kitchen was made from scratch, right down to the salad dressings. If Jill made a pâté that went well with crackers, she made the crackers. She didn’t put together simple salads, she created amazing dishes like a braised endive salad which included endives featured three different ways, raw, braised, and poached. She made lemon confit as a garnish for other foods; she made butternut pate au choux, a small puff pastry filled with a squash puree. She put together shrimp rolls stuffed with crab and topped with a mango relish. Every dish required her creativity and she loved the challenge.
“Hey Jill, good job on the amuse-bouche tonight,” Eric’s booming voice shouted from across the kitchen. “Several customers are mentioning it.” Eric went on to say it was delicious; a rare compliment.
Jill patted herself on the back for getting something right this evening. She’d made a french onion custard. She’d caramelized the onions and baked them with custard, then topped it off with a bordelaise sauce.
All at once, Kaaren, the pastry chef, pulled her aside. “I didn’t know Luke was home. Why didn’t you tell me?” Her face was slightly flushed with excitement.
“Wait. Did you see him?”
“He’s in the restaurant, sitting at a corner table, lingering over his dinner,” Kaaren whispered as if Luke’s presence was a secret.
“Right now?”
“Yes, right now. The wait staff said he’s been at his table for the last two hours. He’s in no hurry to leave. Tell me everything. Is he waiting for you to get off work or something?”
Yes, he was waiting for her. Jill knew it without a doubt. After quickly filling Kaaren in on the events of the day, she hugged her tightly.
“I hope everything works out between you two, Jill.”
Jill hoped so too. But getting her hopes up seemed like a really bad idea. She took a short break to compose herself while Kaaren scurried back to work. She snacked on
a few crackers that tasted like cardboard in her dry mouth.
This was crazy. Luke was acting like a stalker and she was acting like his victim, when they were anything but. Jill decided to sneak a quick peek. Surely Luke had left by now. He knew she worked late into the evening. He couldn’t possibly think it was a good idea to wait until her shift was over, did he? It would be late and they’d both be tired and . . . Jill cut off the excuses reverberating through her numb brain. Clearly, he wasn’t concerned about the time of day.
Cautiously, Jill stepped outside the kitchen doors. As her eyes wandered, she noticed Luke sitting very still at a corner table, eyeing her with a brooding stare. He nodded slightly. Shivering from the intensity of his gaze, she lost her composure and ducked back inside the relative safety of the kitchen.
Paige, one of the wait staff, whizzed past her. “He just ordered dessert, Jill,” she said coolly. “He’s certainly taking his time.”
Jill couldn’t dawdle around any longer or she’d give Eric another reason to be on her case tonight.
As the evening wore on, Paige informed her that Luke was still lingering over herb tea.
Clearly, he had no plans to leave without her.
At the end of her shift, Jill realized Luke was sitting in his idling truck just outside the parking garage, waiting for her to leave. She panicked and asked Kaaren for a ride home, ditching Luke. Jill cowered in Kaaren’s backseat, hidden from view. They laughed over their duplicity . . . until Jill arrived home, where she plummeted and cried herself to sleep, only awakening when Kaaren called to let her know she and Paige had dropped Jill’s car off at her mom’s house.
“No sign of the man with cold feet,” Kaaren joked.
And Jill laughed a little too loudly, when really she was dying inside. What did he want? And why was it vitally important?
Now that the shock of his unexpected return was fading, Jill knew she needed to see him. In all truth, she wanted to see him.