But it was the greater opportunity that made his mouth go dry. A foothold in the Stephanopolous empire was very probably the biggest chance he would ever have, career wise. Restaurants around the world, international board meetings, spin-off companies…
In comparison, Grace Harbor and the world of the Compass Rose seemed very small. A Michelin-starred chef working at a country inn, Jack had said.
And yet, he’d been happy there. Day after day, for the past two months, he’d woken up smiling and eager to get started. Day after day, he’d felt a part of something very like family. Grace Harbor had brought a satisfaction to his life he hadn’t realized he was missing.
And it had brought Cady.
It was right between them. He didn’t understand it and it certainly wasn’t anything he’d expected, but the relationship made him feel better than anything ever had. And he wasn’t at all sure that he was ready to walk away from it. Or her.
Stephanopolous, the casino, the restaurants—the opportunity for money, challenge, influence. Just thinking about the possibilities made his head spin. It was a chance to do huge things, a chance to build the empire he and Jack had always talked about, a chance to live the dream.
The only problem was, he wasn’t sure it was still his dream.
He shook his head. Later, he told himself. He’d figure it out later.
“Now, what happened again?” Ian asked as he followed Cady through the afternoon shadows to the restaurant.
Excitement bubbled through her, but she kept her voice modulated to concern and frustration. “The fire alarm just started going off and it won’t stop. There’s no smell of smoke or anything, and we’ve already called the fire department. We’ve tried to reset it but no luck. We thought maybe you could figure it out.”
“Christ on a crutch, can’t I have one blessed day without something going wrong?” he demanded as they walked into the Sextant. “Your mother’s trying to cook a nice dinner, all you kids are here, all dressed up. It was going to be a nice night. Just once I’d like to—”
“Surprise!”
The chorus was deafening. People were packed in the waiting area and clear back into the dining room itself.
Ian’s jaw dropped. For a moment, he just stared, his expression flashing from shock to amazement to delight. “Well I’ll be a sonofagun,” he burst out. “What are all you people doing here?”
“Happy birthday,” someone shouted.
Ian turned in a circle, grinning like a madman. “Barbara, Mike, you’re supposed to be in Georgia.”
“We figured we could take a break for a special occasion,” his sister told him as they hugged.
He worked his way through the crowd, shaking hands and laughing before turning back to Cady and Amanda and Max. “Am I right in thinking you’re the three responsible for this?”
“It was Cady’s idea,” Amanda said.
“We all worked on it,” Cady countered.
“Thank you.” Ian came over and pulled her close. “I suppose you knew all about this yesterday when I was being a sad sack,” he murmured.
She gave him a smacking kiss. “I don’t remember anyone being a sad sack. I just remember talking with my favorite dad.”
“I’m your only dad.”
“Well, how about that?”
Grinning, he hugged her again, scooping in Max and Amanda while he was at it.
“Somebody get this man a drink,” Walker called and the music started up.
It was the best kind of party, one where enough of the guests knew each other to make conversation easy and enough of them didn’t to keep things interesting. Jokes flew thick and fast, and if reunited friends got a little teary eyed, nobody commented. They were too busy savoring the appetizers, each more decadent than the last.
“Oh my God,” Tania said, “these shrimp things are to die for.”
“You said that about the crab cakes,” Cady observed.
“And the crostini,” Walker contributed.
“In fact, I think you’ve said that about every appetizer you’ve tasted. And you’re still breathing.” Cady shook her head. “How much of a miracle is that?”
“That’s one word for it,” Walker said, deadpan.
Tania eyed him. “I’d watch it, Walker McBain. I know where your skeletons are buried. But I’ll forgive you if you bring me another martini.”
Just then, there was a clinking of knives against glasses as Ian McBain got up on a chair. “Hey, everyone, can I have your attention? I’d like to make a toast,” he said, straining to be heard over the hubbub.
“Pipe down!” his brother-in-law, Mike, boomed. “The man’s trying to talk.”
The room quieted until finally everyone was listening. Ian cleared his throat. “First, I’d like to thank everyone for coming.”
“Sounds like you’re trying to shoo us out before dinner,” someone called out.
Ian grinned. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay, because we’ve got about the best chefs in the world here. Anyway, it’s not every day a man turns sixty. It’s enough to make a guy think. But as a very wise person told me yesterday—” Cady saw him flick her a glance “—what matters is not the numbers, it’s the good things in your life. So here’s to counting my blessings—all of you here tonight, and especially my beautiful wife and my three great kids. Oh, and the staff here at Compass Rose who helped pull this off. I’m a lucky, lucky man. Here’s to all of you.”
He was drowned out by the chorus of cheers and the sound of dozens of glasses tapping together and the music rose.
There were moments in life, Cady thought, that were just about perfect. A bubble of pure happiness began to swell in her chest.
Tania elbowed Cady. “Speaking of things to die for, here’s one coming your way.”
She looked, and the bubble threatened to lift her off her feet.
After the furious intensity of the kitchen, to walk into the dining room was to relax. And to smile. On the dance floor, Ian McBain whirled his laughing wife around to “Do You Believe in Magic?” by the Lovin’ Spoonful. Nearby, a pair of women, obviously longtime friends, toasted each other. In the corner, hilarity burst out as someone hit the punch line of a joke.
No air kisses, no networking, no maneuvering to get close to the photographer.
It was, quite possibly, the happiest party Damon had ever seen. No, it wasn’t hip and full of famous or almost-famous people. It was simply full of people who were having fun.
But he wasn’t there as a guest, he was there to work. Skirting the room unobtrusively, he searched for Cady. He wanted to find her to discuss scheduling. He needed to find her, because it had been too damned long since he’d held her, soft and sweet, in his arms.
He rounded the DJ’s booth, scanning the faces, looking for the red of her hair. And when he saw it, he felt his heart stop. After a moment, it started beating again, but fast and hard this time, as though caged in his chest. It was Cady before him, but looking as he’d never seen her before. He’d thought she’d looked dressed up at the restaurant in her prim tuxedo, but he’d had no idea.
She wore a dress of some silky material that swished and flowed in sea blues and the vivid greens of the ferns that grew around the pines, and every shade in between. It swirled around her calves and dipped low over her breasts. She’d darkened her eyes and done something to her mouth that temporarily unhinged his thought processes. Her hair looked softer, shinier, more richly red.
It was more than that, though. There was a glow to her as though she was lit from within. And she was standing next to some guy, standing next to him and laughing, even when he put his arm around her waist and leaned over to kiss her.
Damon’s jaw tightened. He’d never been a jealous guy. There was no reason to be now.
So why did he feel as if he could chew nails?
Consciously, he made himself relax and crossed to her. “Cady.”
She whirled around and the smile broke over her face like sunlight. And e
verything was right again in his world. “Oh, Damon, hi.”
“Hi. How’s the party going?”
“Everything’s great.” The words were rapid, her voice breathless. “Tell Roman and the guys in the kitchen they rock.”
“I’ll do that.”
“And you rock, too.” Mischief flickered in her eyes. “I want you to meet a couple of people. This is my brother, Walker.” She nodded to the dark-haired guy. “Walker, this is Damon Hurst, the chef.”
He could see the resemblance now, something in the mouth, the set of the eyes. And he relaxed, putting out his hand with real pleasure. “Good to meet you.”
“This is great,” Walker said. “My wife and I were huge fans of Pommes de Terre.”
“You live in Manhattan?”
Walker nodded. “We went to Pommes all the time. I was addicted to the sweetbreads. I don’t suppose you’re doing them up here, are you?”
“Not so far,” Damon said, trying to focus on the conversation when all he wanted to do was get Cady to himself and just inhale her.
Walker shook his head. “Too bad. My mom tells me I don’t visit enough. If you had sweetbreads on the menu, I’d be up all the time.”
“What are sweetbreads?” Cady asked.
“Never mind,” Damon said. “You don’t want to know.”
“How will I be able to avoid them if I don’t know what they are or what they look like?”
“I guess you’ll just have to trust me.”
She shot him a suspicious look. “This isn’t like the squid brain thing, is it?”
“Wait and find out.”
It was as though for an instant they were enclosed in their own private bubble where all that mattered was the connection between them. Neither of them noticed the sharp glance Walker gave Damon.
The tall, thin brunette standing next to Cady cleared her throat.
“Oh, right. Sorry.” Cady shook her head. “Damon, meet my good friend Tania. She’s a big fan of yours.”
He shook her hand. “The reader,” he said. “Hair scrunchies.”
“Hair scrunchies?” Tania repeated in confusion while Cady blushed furiously.
“Nice to meet you,” he said. “I need to borrow Cady for a minute.”
He drew her over to the waiting area, around the corner to the maître d’s desk. He ached to lose himself in the heat of her mouth, the soft press of her body, that apple scent that just about drove him around the bend. He ached to bury himself in her. Instead, he drew her hands to his mouth and pressed his lips to them.
“You’re beautiful,” he said.
She stared at him, eyes wide. He practically saw her decide not to take him seriously. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”
“It’s not flattery. I’d prove it but I figure you’d say it’s not the time or the place.”
“That old problem again.” There was high color in her cheeks so that she looked lit from within. “Do you think we might arrange a time and place?”
“I think when the party’s over we might just be able to do that,” he told her. “Speaking of which, how much longer do you want happy hour to go? We need to know when to start plating soups and salads.”
She pondered. “I suppose the faster dinner gets going, the sooner we get to that time and place, right?”
“Probably.”
“Well—” she glanced at her watch “—how about another fifteen minutes of cocktail hour and then I’ll get people sitting down?”
He glanced at his watch. “Seven o’clock, then?”
“Seven o’clock it is.”
“I’ll do my best to have them cutting the cake by seven-fifteen,” he said. As she laughed, he couldn’t keep himself from leaning in just to taste her for a moment. “And after, I’ll see you.”
Even the party to end all parties had to wind down sometime. The cake had long since been demolished, the echoes of the toasts faded, when people began kissing good-night and trailing out the door in small groups.
With every departure, Cady felt her pulse beat harder. With every departure, she felt more certain. She and Max walked her parents back to their house and kissed them good-night. When Max opened her car door to get in, Cady rummaged in her pocket.
“What are these for?” Max blinked at the keys Cady handed her.
“So you can get in.”
“How are you going to get home?” Max looked her up and down. “Or do I even need to ask?”
Cady let out some of the laughter that had been bubbling through her all night. “I think I can find a ride.” She hardly felt she needed one. Somehow, she felt that if she took a deep breath she’d just float off the ground and over to Damon’s.
“I guess the dress was a success.”
“I guess it was. Will you be okay on your own tonight?”
Max leaned in and kissed her cheek. “I think I can figure out how to work your DVD player. Be good.”
“I’ll be great,” Cady said.
And so it was that she was waiting when Damon stepped out of the restaurant, last of all the kitchen help.
“Hey.” She stepped out of the shadows.
“Hey, yourself.”
“Can I hitch a ride?”
“I’ll take you anywhere you want to go,” he said.
And on this night, of all nights, it seemed anything was possible.
A full moon hung above them, silvering everything, making it dreamlike and magical as they wound through wood and field to his house. There was so much to say but they turned, instead, to touch. A stroke of a hand on bare skin, a touch of lips. They kissed when they stood at the front door and they kissed again inside, with moonlight shining through every window. And they kissed in his bedroom as the silver light streamed in from above.
There were words but no need for them as they stood together. Damon trailed his fingertips up her sides almost worshipfully, barely touching, making her shiver. Beautiful, he’d said, and for the first time in her life, she felt it. The back of her dress parted as he unfastened it, and it whispered down her body to fall in a ring at her feet. She felt him trail its path with lips and tongue. Beautiful, he’d said, and as he gazed at her, she saw it in his eyes.
Her fingers slipped through his hair, stroked his cheek as he lifted her and carried her to the bed. When he came to lie beside her, the warmth of his naked skin against hers was a benediction. And the joy just burst through her.
Pleasure led to pleasure as they sank into each other, savoring taste, savoring touch. Each caress was a treasure, each response a gift. When he poised himself over her body, she found herself breathless. Gaze locked on hers, he slid inside. His strokes were slow and deliberate. With every movement she felt as though they were connected by something beyond a physical link.
This was more than sex, she realized in wonder. This was something she’d never felt before. What usually flamed fast and furious now burned slow and deep, the naked flame becoming the smoldering coal that glowed and ultimately consumed. They were borne along by more than physical sensation. This wasn’t arousal, it was emotion incarnate.
When their bodies quickened to the point of inevitability, they cried out together. When she felt the climax rush through her, she tasted her tears. After, in the spill of moonlight, he gathered her to him.
And in the spill of moonlight, she knew at last—she was in love with him.
Chapter Sixteen
You could always tell where you were in the growing season by how far you had to park from the farmers’ market, Cady reflected as she walked in. And by how many people you had to dodge. There were easily twice the number of booths in the market now as there had been when she’d visited with Damon two months before—not to mention twice the number of bodies. If she hadn’t known better, she’d have sworn it wasn’t the same place, so much had changed.
Then again, so much had changed about her life, period. When she’d walked these rows with Damon, she’d never have guessed she’d wind up even talking to him vol
untarily, let alone having an affair with him. And she never in a million years would have dreamed that she’d go and fall in love with him. The Cady she’d been then would have not-so-diplomatically suggested she have her head examined.
The Cady of today wasn’t so sure that was a bad idea.
It would be okay, she told herself even as her stomach jittered. No, falling in love with him wouldn’t have been her choice, but it wasn’t as though she could tell herself not to feel. After all, she’d already tried that, for all the good it had done her. At heart, Cady was a realist, and her heart, it seemed, would do as it would.
She remembered waking that morning, surfacing from sleep to warmth and sunlight and the feel of Damon’s arms around her. Yes, loving him was a risk with an uncertain ending, but wasn’t it worth it, just once in her life to feel so treasured and cared for? Wasn’t it worth it to have that feeling she’d always dreamed of?
“Hey, Cady!”
She headed into Pete Tebeau’s booth. “Hey, Pete, how are you?”
“If I was any better I’d get arrested.” He winked as he weighed tomatoes for a customer. “And how about you? Whatever it is you’re taking, I want some.”
“Just clean living, Pete.” She grinned. It was becoming something of a habit, she realized.
“What brings you down here? I’d gotten used to seeing Hizzoner. Didn’t think I was ever gonna see you again.”
“Damon’s got a photo shoot for some big food magazine today. They’re interviewing him and everything. I volunteered to come here.”
“Lucky me,” he said, finishing with the customer and turning to her. “What’s that you’ve got there?”
Cady glanced down at the tray in her hands. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, she told herself. “That’s the other reason I came up. I’ve got a proposition for you, Pete.”
He winked. “Definitely lucky me.”
“I’m trying to be serious,” she scolded.
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