by Olivia Miles
He should be thinking about the contest, of what he would do with the money if they won, but he couldn’t stop thinking of Anna, and the way her ass looked in those jeans. The way her lips tasted last night. He chased back the rest of his drink and ordered another, vowing to go easy on this round. He needed a clear head. He needed to think this through. He couldn’t make another mistake with Anna.
He narrowed his eyes to the crowd, looking for Frank Piccolino, sure to be here, puffed up and proud, believing himself, no doubt, capable of winning the grand prize, when a finger tapped him on the shoulder. He startled, turning in expectation to see Anna, and his face fell when he saw the woman standing before him instead.
“Cassie.” He recognized her at once, even after all these years. Her rich black hair was swept off her neck, and her ice blue eyes were rimmed in dark, curly lashes. Reflexively, he glanced to the elevator in the distance, willing Anna not to come through its doors right now. “What a surprise.” He leaned down and brushed her cheek with a kiss, catching a waft of that expensive perfume she’d always worn.
“Mark Hastings,” she purred, leaving a hand on his arm. “Just as handsome as ever.”
Mark stiffened and took another sip of his drink. “You’re looking well, Cassie.” He glanced back at the elevator and then subtly swept his eyes over the room, before turning back to the woman before him. Her black silk dress was cut low, and a diamond chain graced her neck. “Are you entering the contest?”
“Indeed I am.” Her lips curved into a smile. “So tell me, what have you been up to all these years?”
Mark sucked in a breath. Such a simple question should not be so difficult to answer. “I’m running a place in my hometown. Nothing fancy, but the locals enjoy it. It’s a family place, you could say.”
She studied him with interest. “I’ve kept my eye out for you.” She sipped her champagne, lifting an eyebrow. “Here I thought the best chef at the academy would go on to run a four-star restaurant in a big city.”
A bitter taste filled his mouth and he chased it back with another swig from his glass. “What have you been up to?” he asked, changing the subject.
“Oh, believe it or not, I’ve got a great little French bistro here in Cedar Valley.”
“In the resort?” Mark couldn’t help but be impressed.
“A few blocks down the road, in the village.” Cassie smiled. “You should stop in some time.”
Mark nodded. “Maybe I will.”
She tipped her head, her gaze traveling over him with interest. “Call ahead and I’ll set up a tasting menu for you.” She opened her clutch and retrieved a business card. Pressing it into his hand, she said, “In case you’re ever in the area again.”
Mark glanced down at the card, noting the heavy cardstock, the elaborate scroll of the embossed lettering, the Executive Chef title next to her name, and felt his stomach knot. “Thanks.”
Cassie gave a long sigh. “I should probably mingle, but I’ll be in touch.” She leaned in and whispered in his ear, “Good luck tomorrow. I’m curious to see if you’ve still got it.”
Mark watched Cassie saunter off, her hips swaying in the form-fitting cocktail dress, her heels high. She looked like a woman who had made a success of herself, who knew the town and was confident in her place here.
That could be him this time next year: a chef people talked about, running a kitchen that sparked a buzz. This contest could open doors—but was he really ready to close one on the way out?
He gave the business card another hard look before slipping it into his pocket. Taking another swig of his drink, he turned, his breath catching when he saw Anna standing at the edge of the room. Her long blond hair was loose, falling in waves around her shoulders. She wore a navy dress that clung to every curve… and an expression that left no doubt that she’d been standing there just long enough to get the wrong idea.
Her jaw was set, her mouth a firm line, and before he could move, she turned on her heel and walked quickly in the other direction.
“Anna!” He set the drink on the bar, sloshing the remains, and elbowed through the crowd, weaving his path through the groups of people, his eye trained on her as she retreated from him. “Anna.”
He caught up to her and reached for her elbow, but she stepped out of his way, pushing through a glass door that led to the veranda. Mark held up a hand, stopping the door before it hit him in the face, and hurried behind her. The night air was clean and cool, but the heat that coursed through his veins kept him warm.
“Anna, stop. You have the wrong idea.”
She whipped around. Anger glittered in her eyes, stopping him in his tracks. In all the years since they’d broken up, she’d never shown a reaction; she’d simply fallen silent. She had never shed a tear, almost disappeared into the crowd, until she was out of his grasp. She’d never reached out for him. Never tried to get back what they’d once had.
Until these past few weeks.
“I didn’t know Cassie would be here,” he said firmly. “You have the wrong idea.”
She snorted, giving a bitter laugh. “Oh, do I? The way I had the wrong idea that day I saw you with her? You didn’t even wait a week before taking up with her, Mark. Not even a week!”
He reached out for her, but she pulled back. “Cassie and I never had anything. Not anything real. Not like you and I had.”
“Then why’d you bother? With her… with me?”
Because he couldn’t resist. He never could resist Anna. He opened his mouth to respond, and clamped it shut, rubbing the back of his neck.
A shadow passed over her expression, and the fury that sparked her blue gaze faded to something more tangible. He stared at her, hating the hurt he saw in her eyes, wishing he could take back the past five minutes, no longer—the past seven and a half years. He wanted to go back to that place they’d once been, safe and warm in each other’s arms, with the entire future at their fingertips.
His hand dropped to his side. “I just ran into her tonight. She’s entering the contest; I had no idea she’d be here. You have to believe me.”
“Why?” She sighed, looking away. “What does it matter? You and I were over a long time ago. We just… got caught up in the past few weeks.”
He wanted to tell her she was wrong, that she knew it. That there was so much more beneath the surface that had lingered over the years, buried by sheer will on both their parts. The tears that shone in her eyes unnerved him, made his gut twist and his mind spin.
She still cared. There was still a chance.
Just tell her. Tell her what she means to you. Tell her what you want. But the damn truth of the matter was that he didn’t know what he wanted. Not then. Not now. He just knew how he felt when he was with her. And he knew he never wanted that feeling to go away.
Anna shook her head, brushing furiously at the hot tears. She could still feel the pain of that day, when she’d realized it was over, that she wasn’t special to Mark, and he’d already moved on to another—Cassie—just as she’d seen him do with so many girls before her. She tried not to go there, tried not think about it, but now all that emotion she had tried to bury had come to the surface, and there was no turning it off.
She blinked and turned away from him, toward the mountain that loomed so large above them she almost felt she could reach out her fingers and touch it. She wanted him to go, to turn and leave; it was what he did best, after all. Why now, of all times, was he determined to stay?
“Say something.” His voice was low and gruff, but there was something else there, too. Something vulnerable that prickled her senses and made her hesitate.
She rested her hands on the stone wall of the veranda. In the distance behind her she could hear the muffled sounds of the piano, the occasional burst of laughter. Strings of lights had been hung from metal poles anchoring either end of the space, but it was the darkness she was focused on. She wanted to run out there, into the wild, and escape this moment, the feelings that only Mark could sti
r within her.
“I used to think we had a future.” The words slipped out, so softly, she wondered if he had even heard, or if the breeze had carried their sound away. It didn’t matter. She’d kept her feelings—her deepest pain—bottled deep inside her for so long, she thought it might break her. Now, there was no holding back. All that effort, all that determination to keep her heartache at bay, to push the hurt into a place no one could access or touch, was gone.
She turned around to look at him. His dark eyes were hooded, and his shoulders rose and fell with each breath. Other than that, he didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t run.
“We had a plan, Mark. A plan for a life together.” Her eyes burned, thinking of Cassie, elegant and beautiful, hanging on his arm, happy and carefree, while she fell into the shadows, replaced. She should have pressed when he brought her to the café that day—demanded to know if the flirting she’d seen meant something—but he’d already given her the best reason he had: I can’t give you what you need.
And what did she need? A friend? A business partner? A father for her child?
“When did you realize you didn’t want to open the restaurant together? Was that the reason you broke it off?” She had to ask. She had to know. How much was connected? How much was real? Had she been holding on to broken promises from the start, or had she been right to believe him at some point?
He dragged out a sigh and walked over to the wall, shifted his torso so he was facing her. His thigh brushed hers, sending a rush of desire up the length of her spine, and she tensed, stepping back.
A lock of hair spilled over his forehead and he pushed it back. “I thought I could do it. The restaurant. Us. I wanted everything you did. I just wasn’t ready to make that kind of commitment.”
It was the honest answer. Plain, really. She wasn’t sure what more she’d been expecting. He’d told her the truth that day. She supposed that was better than lying to her.
“I don’t know why I thought it would be different with us. I thought I was… special.” She gave a small shrug, embarrassed at the admission.
“You were special,” he said quietly, and her heart skipped a beat. He put a hand on her shoulder and she tried to look away, not wanting to meet that penetrating gaze, afraid of what it might reveal if she searched deep enough. “You know how much that friendship meant to me.”
She met his eye. “Do I? If it meant so much, why didn’t you just tell me how you were feeling? We didn’t have to get carried away, or start planning for something that was never going to happen. We didn’t have to be anything more than friends,” she added, but she knew that part wasn’t true. They couldn’t resist each other. Even if deep down they knew they should have.
He pulled his hand away, raking it through his hair as he stared into the distance. “You don’t know how it is, Anna. You don’t know how it feels to have someone you care about, someone you trust, just disappear on you.”
She stared at him. “Yes, I do. That’s exactly what you did to me.”
He didn’t know the half of it. She had the sudden urge to tell him everything, to see how he would react, if he would even care. The only way he could ever understand how badly he had hurt her was to come clean and tell him about the baby. It was the only way she’d ever be able to move on from their past.
“I probably sound sensitive,” she said, righting herself. This wasn’t the time to tell him. Not when they were fighting. Not when Cassie, of all people, was standing just beyond that set of doors.
Mark shook his head. “Not sensitive. Honest.”
Anna gripped the cool stone tighter. She wasn’t honest. She was far from it. But how could she trust him with the truth? If he knew what happened, he might hate her for not telling him all those years ago, blame her… the way a part of her blamed herself.
“Anna. I’m sorry. I meant it when I said that I wished it had been different. Those other girls… Cassie… they never meant anything. I liked them because they never could, because they didn’t want more than I could give.”
“And I did?”
“You deserved more than I could give. I wanted to give you all those things. I just couldn’t.”
She willed herself to stay strong, to stare out into the night sky, to fight the emotions that waged a war in her chest and made her want to turn to him, take him into her arms, and apologize. He’d let her down, broken her heart, but somehow she’d failed him, too.
She’d lost their baby. Nothing could bring it back.
She stepped back. “It’s late, and we have a big day tomorrow. I think we should end this conversation here.”
He frowned. “If you think that’s best.”
“I do,” she said firmly. She walked toward the door, refusing to look back.
She and Mark were long over. They shared a past, that was all. They could never share a future.
CHAPTER
24
Anna fastened the last button on her jacket and stared in the mirror. She hadn’t worn chef’s whites since she’d graduated from culinary school, but it was more than the uniform that made her feel like she’d stepped back in time.
Mark and Cassie, chatting and laughing, while she stood on the sidelines. Wasn’t that a page straight out of her memory book? It hadn’t even occurred to her that the other woman would be here, but now she was surprised she hadn’t seen more of her classmates around the hotel.
They’d probably moved away, out of state. Something she probably should have done, too. Instead she’d come full circle. Pinning all her hopes on the man who had the ability to crush them.
Anna smoothed her ponytail and squared her shoulders. Time to get back on track. The competition was about to start, and here she was, getting all misty-eyed over a man who had already broken her heart once. She’d be damned if she let him do it again.
Too much was riding on this.
Glancing down at her crisp white jacket, Anna’s mouth drooped into a frown. At the café, she wore regular clothes, aprons in cheerful colors or patterns. The last time she’d worn this, her father had been at her side, his arm tight around her shoulder, smiling for the camera on her graduation day. That picture in her kitchen at home was all she had left of that moment. Photographs were all she had left of her father. That and the bookstore.
I’m going to make you proud today, Dad.
She looked up to the sky, at the towering mountain above her, trying to imagine him up there somewhere, looking down on her, protecting her somehow. She clung to that thought as she turned away, feeling the first heat of the morning sun on her back, daring to believe it was her father’s guiding hand, until she reached the double set of doors to the grand ballroom and stepped inside.
Mark was already at their station when she entered the ballroom reserved for the contest a few minutes later. Anna gave him a small smile and scanned the ingredients they’d ordered, making sure nothing was missing. All she had to do was focus. Keep it professional, not personal. Follow her own rules.
Judges paraded down the aisle, stopping at the platform at the end of the room where they took turns introducing themselves and welcoming the contestants. Fifty teams had entered, but only one would win. As if they needed to be reminded.
The timer was set for two hours. Anna pressed her minute-by-minute list flat on the table and waited for the clock to start. They’d prepared for this. They’d trained for this. This was it.
The first hour passed in a blur, but at the midway point, the room picked up. Sharp orders could be heard from neighboring stations; tension was high. The temperature in the room rose as ovens and burners were pushed to their full capacity, and smells wafted through the room, blending together, until it was hard to discern what stemmed from one station to the next.
Anna finished peeling the second butternut squash and glanced at the oversized digital timer that hung at the back of the room just above the judging tables, watching as it ticked off another second. “We’re on track,” she said to Mark.
“Good.” He didn’t look up as he diced purple beets into even cubes. “How’s the dessert coming along?”
Anna bent down and peered through the oven window. The tarts’ crusts were turning golden, and the sweet smell of apples could almost be detected. “Another five minutes and we should be ready to take it out,” she informed him.
Mark nodded as he slid the beets off the cutting board and onto a metal baking sheet. He seasoned them with a drizzle of olive oil, salt, and pepper. “These are set to go.”
Anna crossed the item off her list. Halfway there. She grabbed a knife and cut the squash in half, then quickly scooped out the seeds with a spoon.
“Here.” Mark nudged her with his hip, sending a flare of heat over her skin. “Let me. You deal with the dessert.”
Her eyes flashed on his. “That’s not how we rehearsed it.”
“Well, we’re down to an hour,”
“I don’t care,” Anna said. “We agreed on a plan of action. Now’s not the time to go off course.” She began dicing the squash into orange cubes, careful to match the size with those of Mark’s beets. The entire salad was dependent on making every mouthful a perfect mix of flavors and textures, without one overriding any others.
“I’m not trying to—”
“Mark.” Her voice was firm, and she realized she was holding the knife at an alarming angle. Releasing a long, slow breath, she lowered it to the work station and began hastily transferring the butternut squash to Mark’s baking dish. “Darn. We should have seasoned them together.”
Mark cursed under his breath and grabbed some beets from the vegetable bowl. “I’ll start over.”
“There’s no time now,” Anna pressed, reaching for the olive oil. “We’ll just have to make do.” Anna balled two fists at her side, willing herself to stay quiet, to not light into him now. This wasn’t the time or the place for any distractions, and she knew that the emotions building inside her had a heck of a lot more to do with the business card he’d accepted from Cassie than the fact that he had gone ahead and salted the beets.