Fool for Love

by Beth Ciotta

  Oh, hell. Maybe Luke was right. Maybe he did need to get a life, because damn, that was pathetic.

  “Sure you don’t want me to call back?” Jayce asked.

  “What? No. Go on.”

  “I was apologizing for the delay. Wanted to be thorough.”

  “I appreciate that,” Devlin said, balancing his food basket on a pickle barrel.

  “I’ll give you the basics and e-mail the full report. You’re not going to like it.”

  “I’m not surprised.” Today had been full of frustrations. His dad had refused to comment on Devlin’s report until he’d slept on it. Gram had refused Devlin’s offer to bring her dinner, saying she’d already committed to an evening of chili and Canasta with the Larsens. And when he’d broached the subject of her chosen companion, she’d brushed him off.

  “Chloe Madison,” Jayce began. “Thirty-one. Single. Never been married. Born and raised in Marlton, Indiana. Moved to New York City straight out of high school. No siblings. Mother died when she was fourteen. Father’s loaded. Funded her education and picked up the bulk of her rent for, get this, ten years.”

  “Who studies to be a chef for ten years?”

  “She didn’t study to be a chef until this past year. We’re talking two years at Juilliard, two and a half at NYU, a year—almost—at a fashion design institute, back to NYU for six months, different major, then a shitload of workshops and courses on various subjects.”

  “What the hell?” Devlin scratched his head, baffled by the inconsistency. “Did she flunk out? Get expelled?”

  “Dropped out.”

  Even worse. “So what? She’s unmotivated? Unfocused?”

  “Fickle maybe. One of those people who can’t decide what they want to do. So far she studied for and/or worked as an actress, a singer, a playwright, a fashion designer, fashion photographer, model, spokesperson, publicist, and food critic. You can read some of her critiques on a popular e-zine. I’ll send you the URL. They’re pretty good.”

  “Sounds like Gram hired an impulsive free spirit.” The kind of woman who pushed a personal hot button.

  “There’s more.”

  “Naturally.”

  “Looks like her rich daddy cut her off two years ago, about the same time she moved in with a guy. Hold on. Ryan Levine. That’s his name. Fifteen years her senior. Works for an international resort company. Efficiency expert. Big bucks.”

  “From rich daddy to sugar daddy.” Gold digger—another hot button. “Let me guess. Levine covered her tuition for culinary school.”

  “She did, however, finish what she started this time. Graduated from the Culinary Arts Institute four days ago.”

  “Four days? So she doesn’t have any practical experience as a chef.”

  “Doesn’t mean she isn’t a hell of a cook. Plus, Dev, you’ve gotta see this girl.”

  “Considering she once worked as a model and has the ability to wrap rich men around her finger, I’m guessing hot.”

  “Blond hair. Brown eyes. Kick-ass curves.”

  “Sounds right up your alley.”

  “She’s up every man’s alley.”

  Devlin was more interested in the sweet-faced brunette who’d essentially told him to eat healthier. Drop-dead beautiful—in an Ivory-soap-girl kind of way. He thought about the glimpse he’d gotten of her pink panties as she’d scrambled on her hands and knees for his pork ’n’ beans and cursed a hard-on that wouldn’t die. “Dammit.”

  “Here’s the part you won’t like.”

  “I haven’t liked any of it.”

  “You’ll hate this. Had to dig deep, since she had her record expunged.”

  “Record?”

  “Arrested twice. Once for shoplifting. Once for disturbing the peace. Both times charges were dropped.”

  “That doesn’t make me feel better.”

  “Implies innocence.”

  “Or not enough evidence.”

  “I knew you’d say that. That’s why I called in a favor. Details forthcoming.”

  “Meanwhile Miss Madison is also forthcoming.”

  “For what it’s worth, Dev, I don’t have a bad feeling about this woman.”

  “I do.” All told, Chloe Madison sounded like his worst nightmare.

  “Want me to fly up and run interference?”

  “My problem to tackle.”

  His friend laughed. “Lucky you.”

  “What about Levine?”

  “Lover boy’s transferring to France.”

  “Left her high and dry,” Devlin guessed, “and now she coming to mooch off Gram.”

  “Overall, I got the impression she’s a nice girl, well liked. Just restless and reckless.”

  “Translation: an irresponsible user. Twice arrested.”

  “Two sides to every coin, my friend.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind. Send a bill with that report, Jayce.”

  “Treat me to dinner at the Shack next time I’m up and we’re square.”

  No use arguing, since Jayce never took money from those he considered family. “You’re on.” Devlin disconnected and snatched his shopping basket. He’d meant to pick up a few basics, then grab a fried chicken from the take-out section. Unfortunately, between his encounter with Melon Girl and his discussion with Jayce it was now five minutes to closing.

  Skipping the fried chicken, he zipped through the checkout, obsessing on Chloe Madison. Maybe she didn’t have any ulterior motives. Maybe she just needed a job and because of her friend Monica she’d lucked into this one. Still, he intended to keep an eye on her and would tell Luke and Rocky to do the same. In fact, he’d swing over to the Sugar Shack right now and fill Luke in. Might as well have dinner there, too. Something including all four food groups. Hell, he was half owner of the restaurant. He should probably show his face more often. Given the Shack was a hot spot for locals and tourists, maybe he’d spot Melon Girl there having a drink.

  Not that he had ulterior motives.

  FOUR

  By the time they reached the Sugar Shack it was seven o’clock. By 7:05, Chloe had her second wind. Revived by the sights and sounds of crowded tables and happy diners and the mouthwatering scents of baked bread, roasted meats, and hearty stews. The atmosphere was casual and lively, the décor country-inn rustic. Polished wide-planked hardwood floors, cobblestone fireplace, colonial wall sconces, and assorted paintings featuring American Folk Art. An Alison Krauss song played in the background—not too loud, just enough to flow through your brain and loosen your limbs.

  If Chloe were writing one of her food critic articles, she’d give the Sugar Shack “Four Forks Up” for ambiance. No cheesy theme. No pretensions. Just a nice place to hang out for drinks and a good meal. Her favorite kind of restaurant. The kind she used to seek out with friends before she hooked up with Ryan.

  Monica slid into one of the old-fashioned window booths. “What do you think?”

  “I think it’s charming.”

  “Wait’ll you meet the owner. Part owner anyway. See that guy behind the bar?”

  Chloe glanced to where Monica pointed. Hard to miss a guy like that. Even from several yards away, Chloe could see that he was handsome, in a rugged, boyish way. Shaggy sandy-brown hair. Sculpted features. Nice upper body. Dressed down in a dark-colored T-shirt, he was serving drinks while chatting up two redheads decked out in matching skintight dresses. Chloe figured if she moved a few feet closer she’d get devoured by his animalistic charisma. He was that charmingly intense. Not her cup of tea. She knew the type. She’d kissed a lot of frogs to get to Mr. Right, except he’d turned out to be Mr. Wrong. Trying not to despise all men in general, she nodded toward sexy bar dude. “Serial dater or incorrigible flirt?”

  “Both.” Monica smiled. “But he’s also a nice guy. Name’s Luke Monroe and he’s the most sought-after bachelor in Sugar Creek aside from his older brother, Dev.”

  Chloe raised a brow. “The overprotective entrepreneur with the stick up his ass?” Mess with his family
and you’re dead meat.

  “Not so loud. Jesus.” Choking back laughter, Monica opened the wine list to hide her blushing face and surreptitiously surveyed the crowded room. “Luke manages this place, but Dev’s part owner. Never know when he’s going to drop in.”

  “Do you see him?”

  “No.”

  “Good.” Chloe slipped off her sweater and snapped open her dinner menu, intent on derailing further talk of Devlin Monroe. She hoped to avoid the man for, well, ever. She had enough on her plate without fearing his wrath should his grandmother so much as stub a toe while under Chloe’s watch. Not that she’d been hired to care for Daisy 24/7. In fact, Chloe’s duties were pretty light. In their phone interview the woman had made it clear she didn’t need or want a nursemaid. But she did want her family to get off her bony patooty (her words, not Chloe’s). Apparently they considered Daisy a menace in the kitchen and behind the wheel. All Chloe had to do was prepare her meals and drive her around. A cushy gig if there ever was one.

  “You’ll meet him eventually,” Monica said. “A) This is a small town. B) He’ll want to know who’s living under his grandmother’s roof.”

  “Fine,” Chloe said, feigning a carefree shrug. “As long as he doesn’t try to tell me what to do.”

  “Tall order.”

  “I mean it, Monica. I’m over it. First Dad manipulated my life, then Ryan.” She stared hard at the appetizers—Rosemary Potato Chips, Garden Bruschetta—summoning calm and confidence via her love of food. “I refuse to answer to any man. From here on out I’m trusting my own instincts. I’m capable. Responsible. Mrs. Monroe and I will get along just fine.”

  “I know.”

  “I mean it.”

  “I’m glad.”

  She could almost hear Monica smiling. She looked up and, yep, huge smile. “What?”

  “Just happy you’re here.”

  Chloe was sure there was more to it but didn’t press. She was tired and suddenly starving. “Ever had the Baked Onion and Apple Soup?”

  “To die for. Everything on this menu is to die for.”

  “You’ve had everything on the menu?”

  “Almost everything.”

  Hungry for the carefree spirit of her younger days, Chloe beamed at her oldest friend. “What do you say we order a little bit of everything? Remember when we sampled every dish at Rosie’s Café?” They’d been sixteen and celebrating the fact that they’d both been chosen to sing in the All-State choir.

  “As I recall, you threw up less than an hour after we rolled out the door.”

  A bad reaction to French fries smothered in chili and cheese, just after a downing a chocolate milk shake. Chloe had blocked out that part. “Honestly. Why do all your memories revolve around my puking episodes?”

  Monica’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “Good times, good times.”

  “What if we restrict the smorgasbord to appetizers?” Her mouth watered just thinking about the Roasted Garlic Shrimp.

  “And desserts.”

  “No desserts.”

  “Aw, come on. You aren’t seriously swearing off sweets!”

  She thought about the way Ryan’s eyes had rolled back after he tasted her Raspberry White Chocolate Mousse, just before he’d made love to her on the living room carpet—only two days after returning from the French Riviera. “Seriously.”

  “Fine. No dessert. Not tonight.”

  “Not ever.”

  “I’d be stricken if I didn’t know this insane boycott wasn’t temporary.”

  “You’re not listening to me.”

  “No, I’m not. I don’t listen to crazy people. Obviously, Ryan drove you insane. Temporarily.”

  Chloe sighed. “Okay. Fine. Realistically, I can’t imagine swearing off sweets forever, but just now … this moment and who knows for how long … confections are poison to my soul.”

  “Noted.” Monica motioned for the waitress. “We’ll start with a bottle of champagne.”

  * * *

  After lingering over a full-course meal and giving up on an appearance by Melon Girl, Devlin had slipped into his brother’s office to escape the unwanted attention of the Kelly twins. He could have had his pick of the girls, or he could have had them both—at the same time. They’d been upfront about their adventurous streak. Which should have been a turn-on but wasn’t. Katie and Krissy were cute as hell but too young and shallow for his taste. Not to mention they’d made the same offer to his brother and their cousin Nash last June at the Vermont Dairy & Maple Festival. Devlin was fairly certain his cousin had crumbled and indulged in the average man’s twin-girl fantasy. Nash wasn’t one to screw and tell, but he’d walked around with a dopey smile on his face for an entire week.

  Devlin shook his head while checking his e-mail. Luke and Nash juggled women and relationships the way he juggled multiple business interests. Life was complicated enough without having to deal with the drama of multiple affairs. He’d always leaned toward monogamous relationships but had never been inclined to fully commit—not since Janna had ripped out his heart. Once annihilated, forever wary. Not that he was celibate, just cautious. His cynicism and habitual bad luck with women ensured his bachelor status, as did his obsession with work and various investments. He had too many people counting on him—the employees at J.T.’s and the Shack, his relatives—to dwell on what eluded him.

  The love and devotion of a down-to-earth, family-oriented woman.

  Restless and hopeful that the Kelly twins had zeroed in on another target, Devlin left the office intending to have a last word with Luke before heading home. When he neared the bar, he saw his brother enduring the attentions of Viv Underwood, a woman he’d dated and broken off with a year ago, while waving good-bye to Katie and Krissy and serving draft beers to the Brody brothers. Luke had an amazing talent for making everyone seem like the center of his world while he was actually tuned into something else altogether. Just now Viv appeared smitten while Adam and Kane seemed enthralled by whatever bullshit Luke was spewing. Luke was … distracted.

  “You outta here?” he asked without making eye contact.

  “Almost.” Devlin looked where his brother looked. Damn. Melon Girl had shown after all. Luke was practically drooling. “Down, boy.”

  “Am I that obvious?”

  “Yes.”

  “Can you blame me?”

  “No. But keep it zipped.” The intensity of the jealousy rippling through Devlin’s blood took him by surprise. He didn’t even know her name, yet he had the insane urge to tell his brother, Hands off. She’s mine.

  Luke laughed while serving Devlin a Dewar’s on the rocks he hadn’t asked for. “Admit it. She’s hot.”

  “How many women are you seeing now?”

  “On a steady basis? Three. What? They know about each other.”

  Devlin rolled his eyes, then, unable to help himself, glanced back to Melon Girl. She was still wearing her flowery dress and knee-high boots, but she’d twisted her long hair into a messy ponytail. His cock twitched and he’d swear his heart skipped. Something that hadn’t happened since—Christ—Janna. He ignored the warning bells, sifted through old-as-dirt pickup lines. But then Connie, one of the six waitresses on the payroll, showed at Melon Girl’s booth carrying a tray loaded with enough food for two people.

  Damn.

  “When you asked me to keep a close eye on Gram’s new companion,” Luke said, “I had no idea it would be such a pleasure.”

  “What do you mean?” But then Monica Smith slid into the seat across from Melon Girl and Devlin connected the dots. “That’s Chloe Madison?” Jayce had painted a different picture—an in-your-face gorgeous blonde—whereas the woman affecting Devlin’s pulse was a dark, subtle beauty. “Are you sure?”

  “I’d say it’s a safe bet. She walked in with Monica and they’ve been gabbing like women who’ve known each other for years. Thought I’d wait till they got to dessert before introducing myself. If she isn’t Chloe Madison, I’d like the name and nu
mber that goes with that dish.”

  “To hell with waiting.” Devlin pushed away from the bar, drink in hand. Working his way through the crowded tables, he assured himself Luke was wrong. The sweet-natured woman who’d knocked Devlin’s food basket and guarded heart for a loop could not be the same reckless free spirit who manipulated rich men and snowed dotty old women like Gram. Curiosity warred with dread. Either Melon Girl was someone other than Miss Madison or Miss Madison was even more dangerous than he’d first assumed.

  * * *

  “All I know,” Chloe continued in mid-thought as Monica returned from the ladies’ room, “is that I’m fed up with bossy men.”

  Her celebration dinner had turned into a bitch fest, soon after they’d toasted her “special honor.” All Chloe could think about was the graduation cake she’d baked and how Ryan had ruined her day with his betrayal. Yes, she’d spewed to Monica on the phone, but it wasn’t the same as face-to-face. At least tonight she was calm. She didn’t cry. Didn’t even raise her voice. She even refrained from cursing the other woman. Mostly, she was bitter because she’d given up a life she’d loved, along with a good many friends, because Ryan had convinced her it was time to settle down and commit personally and professionally. Something her dad had been preaching for years, only it had sounded different coming from a guy she was crazy about.

  “So you said, although I never really thought of your dad as bossy, hon. Even though he’s always been distant, he caters to your whims. Or at least he did before you moved in with Ryan.”

  “My point exactly,” Chloe said as they picked at the appetizer smorgasbord. “He thought he could bully me into walking away from the man I loved by cutting me off financially.”

  “Well, you showed him.”

  “I suppose.” She hadn’t missed the money, because Ryan had insisted paying the majority of their rent. But she had missed the weekly phone calls. They’d talk about his life in Indiana and her life in New York. They’d had an amiable long-distance relationship. Now they only talked once in a blue moon and it was always strained.