The Sweet Spot

by Stephanie Evanovich

  “I didn’t think I was in any danger this evening,” he replied. “I need security?”

  “One never knows.”

  “I’ll take my chances.” He chuckled as he ran a few steps ahead to hold the door open for her.

  The same British metallic green Jaguar XKR-S she remembered from the night she met him was parked in front of the building. It was sleek and beautiful and looked powerful. The same could be said of its owner.

  “This car looks familiar,” she commented as he rushed to open the car door for her.

  “You sound disappointed,” he replied as she slid into the car and onto the soft camel-colored leather seat. He closed the door and ran to the driver’s side.

  “Aren’t people like you supposed to own a car for every day of the week?” Amanda said after he took his place behind the wheel.

  “I can only drive one car at a time.” Chase laughed, buckling in and starting the car. Then he looked at her, a look of warmth and attraction and way too much hidden meaning. “I get attached.”

  He let the gaze linger and comment hang in the air before revving the supercharged 550-horsepower engine and adding, “Would you feel better if I told you I got a new one every year and also have an Escalade for when I need more room?”

  Amanda slightly shook her head in an effort to break the spell. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you sound so spoiled.”

  “It’s okay, I’m nervous, too,” he replied quietly before looking away. He shifted the car into gear and pulled out of the parking lot.

  Amanda would’ve told him she highly doubted that. She made Chase Walker nervous? The thought alone was laughable. But he sounded undeniably sincere.

  “Where are we going?’ she asked, avoiding the topic altogether.

  He smiled and his eyes never left the road. “It’s a surprise.”

  “I’m not sure I like the sound of that,” she said. “Your arsenal of surprises is probably pretty big. I’m starting to wish security was with you after all.”

  “You think I’m going to take you someplace and attack you?” he said, laughing.

  “No!” she quickly backtracked, laughing as well, mostly from how infectious his laugh was. He was making it difficult for her to keep her guard up, and they had been alone together for only five minutes. It was going to be a long night. “I meant that maybe there should be someone around if we’re going to do something extreme. You know, to pick up the pieces, yours and mine.”

  “Amanda, whether you know it or not, I’m all the security you’ll ever need. I would never let anyone harm a single hair on your head.”

  She wanted to scoff. She wanted to call him Casanova or something equally fitting for sounding so schmaltzy. But she was afraid all the butterflies in her stomach would try to escape if she opened her mouth. The line between charm and earnestness, which had already started to blur, was being swept away. He always seemed to be one step ahead of her, disarming her logic and ability to stay realistic. He met her sarcasm with sincerity. He knew how to hit all the right notes, push all the right buttons. She looked out the window at the scenery as he expertly maneuvered the car through traffic down streets she knew by heart, saying nothing. Where was he taking her? She glanced at the dashboard; he didn’t have GPS on, no clue to be gained there. She should’ve known. One step ahead of her, she repeated to herself.

  “What’s it like to be living a dream?” she asked impulsively, thinking it might have some curveball of its own.

  If she caught him off guard, he didn’t show it. He responded without hesitation. “It feels pretty good. Except you always have to find another dream after the other one comes true. Do you think it’s too late for me to be a cowboy?”

  “If you mean play for the football team in Dallas, I wouldn’t be surprised if the answer was no.”

  He took the compliment in stride. “No, I mean the real deal. Ride the range. Live in the saddle.”

  “I’m not the right person to get that opinion from. I used to dream of being in the rodeo after hearing stories about my dad growing up on a Texas ranch. As soon as I was old enough, he bought two horses so he could teach me to ride.”

  “Then I’m not too late,” Chase said, trying to tempt her. “To share the dream, you know? We could still go riding off into the sunset together.”

  “I don’t think so.” She was torn between the discomfort of the memory and his latest endearing come-on. “On my second visit with the horses, my nose started to run, I broke out in hives from my neck up, and my eyes swelled shut.”

  Chase chuckled, trying to remain empathetic. “That’s terrible.”

  “You’re not kidding.” She tried to sound light, but there was a sad truth in her jest. “I spent a night in the emergency room and two days in bed. I was never allowed near them again; so much for the rodeo.”

  Amanda didn’t tell Chase that she believed Rupert Cole never fully recovered, and she failed him in his turn at influencing his only child. The Thoroughbreds, Carlos and Santana, were sold and the incident was never mentioned. The father and daughter went on to pursue things they could still enjoy together, like sports and how to grill the best baby back ribs, but he also turned off “Black Magic Woman” whenever it came on the radio.

  She also left out the part where her mother, during one of those days sitting bedside with the temporarily blinded ten-year-old Amanda, took the opportunity to tell her there was absolutely nothing wrong with second place, as long as you were consistent at it, because it meant that you never gave up. It was an odd logic that would twist around Amanda’s psyche for years, and she experienced multiple examples that seemed to reinforce the rule. Funny she would recall that conversation when she was up to her eyeballs in Mr. First Place.

  “That’s okay,” he said cheerfully, already mentally crossing it off his list. “I also dream about being a pirate.”

  “Just for the record, you do mean shiver me timbers and not playing for Pittsburgh?”

  His eyes flew wide in reproach. “As far as baseball goes, I only dream about being a King.”

  “The rest of the king stuff come with the territory?”

  “Amanda, I wish you wouldn’t use my being famous as a strike against me. I swear to God, I’m a regular guy.”

  There ain’t nothing regular about you, guy, she thought.

  They drove the rest of the way to his secret destination while listening to his iPod rotation. He had a good balance of ballads and beats. Some of it was surprising. He liked a lot of old-school music. Scenery that looked familiar ended with Chase turning his car into the Cold Creek’s nearly deserted parking lot. She instantly recognized Eric’s old Chevy Blazer.

  Eric had a set of keys to the restaurant and was supposed to be in a wet suit somewhere off the coast of Belmar. Chase pulled his car haphazardly into a parking space and cut the engine. She turned back to him, but he was already out of his door and dashing over to her side to open hers. He reached in for her hand to help her out.

  “You want me to cook for you?” she asked, thoroughly puzzled and taking his hand.

  Chase smiled and shook his head, his dazzling green eyes bright. “Absolutely not, but I did want to make sure you had the best dinner in town.”

  He didn’t let go of her hand and instead began leading her toward the front of the building. He had gotten physical so quickly, but she didn’t try to pull away. Resistance seemed futile and her hand in his felt uncomfortably reassuring—he really was an oxymoron in motion. When they got to the front of the building it was no surprise when he finally let go of her hand and reached for the door, pulling it open for her to enter.

  Confirming her suspicions, Eric was at his usual spot behind the bar. Sitting at the bar was Freddy, another one of the Cold Creek’s waiters. Both were fully dressed in uniform and broke into sly, knowing smiles. Fantastic and familiar smells wafted from the kitchen, and Amanda didn’t have to go in there to find Phillip, her chef, and Pam, his assistant. Both were peeking out through the
round windows of the kitchen’s in and out doors. They watched Amanda and Chase enter, enjoyed the moment, and then went back to put the finishing touches on the meal that was being prepared.

  “You surprised?” Chase asked.

  “An understatement,” Amanda replied.

  The lighting was dim and romantic. Music played softly in the background, Earth, Wind & Fire. Chase’s corner booth was set, complete with additional candles, and he led her to it. A bottle of Dom Pérignon White Gold Jeroboam chilled in a bucket next to the table. As they sat down, Eric joined them to open it. With a resounding pop, the seventeen-thousand-dollar bottle of bubbly became worthless and he poured it neatly into two crystal flutes, refusing to spoil the ambiance by looking his boss in the eye and giving her the opportunity to reprimand him. He quickly left while Chase picked up his champagne glass and extended it in her direction.

  “Here’s to our first date,” he toasted.

  She lifted her glass and touched it against his with a gentle clink. She took a sip.

  “How did you manage to pull this off?” she finally asked.

  He released a single chuckle and shook his head slowly. “Amanda, I’ve been planning this for weeks. You really don’t understand, do you?”

  What was to understand? A handsome man with too much money was pulling out all the stops to get what he wanted, even if it meant taking over her restaurant and getting her own employees to conspire against her. If she had given in to his advances that first night, they wouldn’t even be sitting here. She didn’t feel flattered and she didn’t feel special. What she felt was manipulated and duped, which were pretty much the same feelings she had from the moment she first picked up the phone and Alan Shaw was on the other end. More Earth, Wind & Fire started playing—this time “Love Music.” Tears started to burn her eyelids and she reached for her glass in an effort to hide them. She took another sip.

  Chase watched the emotions play across her face. Damn it. He had pushed too hard, come on too strong. All he wanted to do was impress her, and he’d ended up completely overwhelming her. He kept getting his signals mixed. A minute ago she seemed flirty and at least open to him. He rose from the table.

  “I’m going to go and check on how dinner is coming along. Do you mind if I go into your kitchen?” he asked, trying to give her some sense of control back.

  Amanda shook her head, not trusting herself to speak.

  “Do I need a hairnet or something?” he asked, trying to lighten the moment.

  A giggle bubbled out of her and she shook her head again, grateful that he was willing to give her a breather. As soon as he disappeared behind the kitchen door, motioning Freddy to follow him, she turned her attention to Eric, who was watching the whole scene take place from behind the bar. She crooked her finger at him, beckoning him over.

  “Just who do you work for, anyway?” She got right to the point, aware she didn’t have much time before Chase returned.

  Eric took a deep breath and released it before giving her what sounded like a well-rehearsed speech. “Amanda, you are hands-down the best boss I’ve ever had. You’re an amazing lady that I’m proud to work for. But sometimes you don’t know how to get out of your own way, especially when it comes to matters of the heart.”

  “Well, I did ask.” She sighed. Eric hadn’t answered her as an employee, but as a friend. And as both, his words held merit. She didn’t see the point in trying to argue with him. Besides, he wouldn’t understand. She wasn’t really cynical about love; she just knew she wasn’t the hitting-the-jackpot type.

  “This isn’t some creep who just wants to get into your knickers. Why don’t you do yourself a favor and just enjoy all your favorite foods and a nice evening with a man who went the extra mile to show he’s interested? You can worry about his being Chase Walker tomorrow.”

  “By then, it could be too late,” she said sadly. But she knew it was already too late. To keep from falling victim to vibrant green eyes, a million-dollar smile, and his all-consuming magnetism.

  “You know, the best waves to ride come from the roughest seas. Risk it.”

  Eric didn’t wait for her to respond. He turned and went to resume his post behind the bar and began to wipe it down, even though they both knew it was already clean.

  “You’re too young to be so smart,” she called out to him.

  Eric looked up briefly from his chore, giving her a grin and a nod. Chase came out of the kitchen and tentatively resumed his seat.

  “Can we start over?” Amanda smiled at him from across the table and he visibly relaxed.

  “Hey, that’s my line.” He laughed, then said earnestly, “You don’t even need to ask. I’m sorry if I came on like gangbusters. I really thought this was a good idea, with you being so leery and all. I wanted to take you someplace familiar where you’d be comfortable.”

  “It was a very sweet gesture,” she told him honestly, even if it was a little too sweet.

  “Dinner is coming right out. I asked if maybe we should be starting with salads and your chef told me that you’re not a fan.”

  “That’s not entirely true,” she said, laughing, trying to heed Eric’s advice to look at him through different eyes. “I just think if you’re going to go for the gold, calorie-wise, why fill up on greenery?”

  Chase smiled again and reached for the champagne, refilling their glasses. “A woman after my own heart. Nothing bugs me more than a healthy girl pretending it’s attractive to starve herself. When we were going over the menu, I gave myself a high five.” He took a hearty swallow.

  “It’s probably wrong to ask, but I’m dying to know just what it took to get these guys to come in tonight.”

  Chase leaned across the table to divulge only part of the secret. His breath was sweet with champagne, and his eyes were warm with admiration. “They have been very well compensated for their time. But the truth is that at first, they all refused my offer and were willing to do this for free. It seems they’re very fond of you, as am I. It’s easy to see why.”

  With perfect or not-so-perfect timing, Freddy arrived at the table with his serving tray. And just as Eric had alluded to, it was laden with painstakingly garnished plates consisting of her favorites from the menu. Pecan-encrusted chicken resting on a bed of risotto, and string beans sautéed with mushrooms and almonds.

  He even sacrificed his love of beef, she mused when the same meal was placed in front of him, even though Phillip could have easily prepared any number of the dishes Chase usually ordered. After draping his napkin across his lap, he dug in, encouraging her to do the same. He always ate with gusto, but never like a heathen, even if his portion was double the size of hers. He cut his meal into manageable bites, never spoke with his mouth full, and knew how to use a napkin. He asked all the right questions.

  “What made you want to open a restaurant?” he politely inquired.

  “Neither of my parents wanted me to follow in their footsteps and get involved with law,” Amanda answered.

  After years within its trenches, both the Coles viewed the judicial system as little more than an assembly line of tortured souls who had seen the worst of mankind, in themselves and others. Her father retired as early as he could, while her mother trudged on, determined to make a difference while occasionally facing injustice. They’d both wanted to spare her that sort of jading. Her father loved cooking and grilling, often throwing parties in the summers and welcoming her involvement. When he suggested Johnson & Wales in Providence, Rhode Island, to learn all about cooking, she thought it was as good a place to start as any. She could even venture into pastry baking. But her natural propensity for organization and leadership soon had her gravitating toward restaurant management. She had the fair-minded compassion of her father perfectly blended with the attention to detail and tenacity of her mother. In homage to her mother’s influence, she completed a double major in Food Service Entrepreneurship and Culinary Arts. There was no question in either of the Coles’ minds any investment in their da
ughter’s future was a wisely judicious one. When she expressed the desire in owning and operating a small restaurant, they didn’t hesitate to back her. They used their influence to cut through miles of red tape and were the holders of her liquor license. They saw to all the small details to set her up for success, including getting the best location and making sure it included a parking lot. From time to time, her father could be found in the early mornings dabbling in her kitchen, secretly overjoyed that his passion for good food had been passed on to his daughter. The Coles dined and entertained there, sometimes with high-ranking government officials, and word began to spread. She had an innovative chef and adequate portions. Amanda had turned out to be everything the Coles’ images dictated she should be. She was proper, intelligent, and graceful in every sense of the words, even if she was a little too cautious.

  In turn, she asked him about baseball, and he lit up with the same boyish enthusiasm conveyed in every interview she ever saw him give. It was a fascinating transition, and Amanda caught herself smiling when he did it. It was clear he was passionate about his sport. But other than that, he appeared to be way more interested in learning about her.

  “You really are big enough to play football,” she said, trying to even out the exchange of information.

  “I did play in high school,” he confirmed, “mostly because my dad said if I wasn’t doing something productive with my time off, he would put me to work on the farm. He was a big believer that kids with too much free time often found trouble.”

  “He sounds like he was a smart man,” Amanda said, suddenly remembering footage she had seen. A snippet, the image of a stoic, glassy-eyed Chase walking his unsteady and red-eyed mother briskly to a car outside a church, flashed across her mind, reminding her that even in grief, he was denied privacy. “I’m sorry you lost him so young.”

  “Thank you,” Chase replied soberly. “He was a smart man. When I was offered scholarships for both, he was the person to suggest I stick with baseball, because it would be easier on my body, not to mention my mother. I don’t think he ever gave me a piece of bad advice. And I’m comforted by the fact he died exactly the way he wanted to. Quick.”