“Do you think Leo can really cook?” Tess asked as they trudged in through the back door.
Cole’s gaze flickered to her in surprise. She sounded worried. “I have no idea.”
“It must be hard for you, trying to do what’s right for your restaurants and help out a relative in need.”
“Yeah, I guess it can get touchy.”
“Maybe you can hire him as a bartender, or a waiter.” After a moment, she added, “Oh, I meant if the cooking doesn’t … you know … turn out.”
“Leo can’t tend bar or wait tables. He’s not comfortable talking to people or handling money.” Dismayed by his cousin’s situation, Cole shook his head. “Too many employees depend on the success of the restaurants to take chances with the chef.”
“But think of Leo’s babies.” As they neared the kitchen, the sound of utensils and pots clanging alerted them to Leo’s presence. “Three of them.”
There was no doubting her concern.
Cole fought the urge to kiss her. It wouldn’t be fair to Leo to show up late. And if he kissed her now, they would be late. They might even miss the taste test altogether.
*
“Come in, sit down,” Leo called out in his usual gruff, impatient voice the moment they sauntered into the kitchen. He wore jeans, a camouflage T-shirt with short sleeves that exposed his marine corps tattoo and a white chef’s apron. Kettles and skillets steamed on the stove, scenting the air with onions, garlic and delicious aromas.
Cole and Tess sat on stools at the central work island, which Cole had added to the old-fashioned kitchen to please Mrs. Johannsen.
“I’ve figured out how to prove to you that my dishes are far superior to the ones served in your restaurants,” Leo announced. “No offense, Cole, but facts are facts.” He set three small plates of salad in front of him. “Try these salads, then write down the one you like best.” He handed him a pen and paper. “Starting from your left, this is A, B and C. I’ll write down the letter of mine, just so there’s no question of foul play.”
“What about Tess? Where’s her salads, pen and paper?”
Leo cast an awkward glance at her. “I’ll set lunch out for both of you after you’re finished with the test. She already agreed not to give an opinion.”
“She promised not to say a word about your cooking,” corrected Cole. “That doesn’t mean she can’t vote.” Leo frowned and Tess assured Cole that she’d rather watch. “I’d like to know her opinion,” Cole insisted. “It can’t influence mine if we’re writing our choices without discussing them.”
“But she might deliberately choose one that she doesn’t really—” He broke off as Tess whipped around to stare at him, open-mouthed, clearly indignant that he would doubt her integrity. At least, out loud.
Cole, too, stared at him, but with eyes narrowed in warning.
Leo obviously got the message. Compressing his lips, he strode to his work area and returned a few minutes later with three salads, a pen and paper for Tess. “No discussing your choices,” he told her with a threatening glare.
“I already promised I wouldn’t.” She glared right back at him.
Cole held back a smirk. He probably should have warned Leo not to mess with Tess, unless he was willing to risk ending up with a BB in some part of his anatomy.
Hoping that Leo’s cooking would be at least edible, Cole tried the first salad and believed he recognized the house dressing from the Bay Street Inn. He speared a forkful of the second.
But the look of intense concentration on Tess’s face distracted him. She gave ample time to each salad, then wrote down her choice, turned the paper over and covered it with her hand. To prevent his cheating off her paper, Cole supposed.
“You ain’t eating, Cole,” Leo prompted in a gruff, impatient singsong.
Realizing Leo was right, Cole finished sampling the other salads. He had to admit, he couldn’t identify which hadn’t come from his restaurants. Dutifully he wrote the letter of the one he’d liked best.
“Okay.” Leo looked nervous. “Let’s see which one you chose, Cole.”
Cole revealed his choice, and a grin spread over Leo’s face. With a flourish, he showed his letter, which matched Cole’s. “I thought you’d like that dressing.” He then glanced at Tess, his pleasure suddenly shadowed by unease. “Uhhh, what about you? Which one did you pick?”
She flipped her paper over with a happy smile.
Leo blinked and flushed with pleasure. “I told you it was good. See there?” he said to Cole. “Even she liked it.” Only someone who knew Leo well would recognize the surprise in the glance he gave her. Cole suspected that surprise had more to do with her smile than with her selection.
Beaming with renewed confidence, Leo said, “Let’s try the she-crab soup.”
Cole wasted no time. He tried all three bowls and wrote down his preference. Tess, on the other hand, sampled with intense concentration.
He noticed that when she moved on to the last bowl, Leo’s face grew taut and expectant. He could have rigged a neon sign above the bowl that flashed “Leo’s,” for all his subtlety. Tess glanced at him, dipped her spoon into the bowl and judiciously tried the creamy she-crab soup. Cole watched in avid interest. This should be good.
Her eyes grew wide. “Mmm.” She took another spoonful, savored it, and closed her eyes. “Mmmm!”
Cole bit back a smile. So much for not voicing her opinion—or attempting to influence his. And he had no doubt she intended to do just that. She’d obviously made up her mind that Leo should have the job.
Leo didn’t seem bothered by the fact that she wasn’t playing strictly by the rules. He nearly floated off the floor in delight at her reaction. Tess set down her spoon, grabbed her paper and scribbled her choice. Graciously Leo proclaimed, “I think we should let the lady show her answer first.”
Grandly she revealed her choice. Leo whipped his paper around, and they gazed at each other in clear satisfaction.
“If you want to … you know … say something, you can,” Leo granted.
“Oh, Leo! This has to be the best she-crab soup I’ve ever tasted. These others are good, but this—” She spread out her hands to showcase the favored cup of soup. “—this is heaven. What gives it that … that flavor, that richness?”
Cole swore he’d never seen Leo so damn happy—except maybe, maybe, when Helen had accepted his marriage proposal, or when his boys were born.
“It’s my secret ingredient. I’ll take that secret to my grave. But it’s the way you handle the cream sauce that makes the difference, too. Some chefs think that you have to—”
“Uhhh, excuse me,” cut in Cole, too amused to keep quiet, “but are you at all interested in my selection?”
Leo glanced at him as if he’d forgotten he was there. “Oh, yeah. Sure.” With a worried frown, he invited, “Let’s see which one you chose.”
Cole showed him, and Leo’s smile returned, full force.
As they sampled the rest of the dishes, Leo watched every expression that flitted across Tess’s face. Unfailingly she chose his dish. No surprise there. His expressive anticipation left no doubt which one was his.
Amazingly enough, though, Cole himself had chosen Leo’s dishes every time, too. The son-of-a-gun really could cook.
When Leo served his tour de force—Hot Fudge Truffle Mousse Cake—Tess closed her eyes, knit her brows and savored the confection with such a throaty, sensual “ummm” that Cole’s amusement faded. His temperature climbed and his body stirred with visions of what they could do with that chocolate…
Realizing that Leo also watched her with rapt attention, Cole shot him a forbidding glance. He hoped like hell Leo wasn’t getting any such “visions.” He’d hate to have to kill him.
But the moment Tess opened her dreamy gray eyes, Leo held up his paper to display his letter with such blazing pride that Cole knew he’d been too wrapped up in his artistic triumph to appreciate her astounding sensuality.
Good thing. Da
mn good thing.
“So what about it, Cole?” Tess was asking. “Does he get the job?”
Cole settled back and crossed his arms. He’d never hurried in a business decision before—especially not in front of the person most affected by that decision. Leo stood gnawing his lip, waiting for the reply. “There’s more to this decision than just liking a few dishes,” explained Cole. “There’s the question of pay, benefits, training, work schedules, career goals…”
Tess uttered a scoffing sound. “Does he get the job, or not?”
Cole slanted her an admonishing glance. The woman had no appreciation for the fine art of negotiation. Then again, she had squeezed a promise of two million dollars and McCrary Place
out of him. “Yes, he gets the job.”
Her smile alone made the decision worthwhile.
Leo bounded around the work island, grabbed Cole’s hand and enthusiastically pumped it. “You won’t be sorry, Cole. We’re gonna get written up in all those fancy magazines. Five stars, cousin. Five stars.”
“I have no doubt, Leo.”
Leo turned to Tess, a daffy smile loping across his mile-wide jaw. The lady had made a conquest. “So were you surprised when you found out I made all those dishes?”
“Stunned.”
“You really liked ‘em, huh?”
“Loved ‘em.”
“Hey, I’m sorry if I was … uh … you know, rude.”
Tess lifted that arrogant brow of hers. “If?”
“Okay, okay. Sorry I was a horse’s butt. Is that better?”
“Much.”
He muttered beneath his breath as if disgruntled, but humor glinted in his gaze. From the corner of his mouth, he confided to Cole, “You know, she ain’t too bad for a McCrary. Uh, I mean a McCrary-Westcott.”
“Yeah, she’s one of the best McCrary-Westcotts I know.”
Leo guffawed and slapped Cole on the back. “Now you two sit down and finish eatin’. I promised you lunch, you’re getting lunch.”
They didn’t argue. The food was damn good. And when Tess finally dug in to the remainder of her Fudge Truffle Mousse Cake and closed her eyes to savor it, Cole angled his face near hers. “What was that again?”
She opened her eyes in surprise.
“Did you say, ‘ummm’?”
She smiled. “Mmm-hmm.”
“No, no … ummm.”
She said it, but with even more sensuality than she had before. He nipped at her lips, teased her into a kiss, savored the taste of her mouth as well as the chocolate, while the need within him grew stronger, hotter, to make love to her again.
“Hey, hey, take it to the bedroom,” Leo yelled from the sink. “I can’t watch stuff like that. I’ve been without my wife for a whole week … and she won’t be home until Tuesday.”
Tess pulled away from Cole in surprise. Cole, too, turned to gape at him. “Tuesday?” they both repeated. “She’s coming home Tuesday?”
“Yeah. She called this morning. Said she’s dropping the divorce proceedings. She missed me.”
Tess turned to Cole with a glow of gladness and wonder. “The curse,” she whispered. “The curse is being lifted.”
A sudden squeeze of emotion kept him silent. What was she hoping for right now? That her family would be free from a legacy of heartbreak … or that Phillip would come home to her?
Cole glanced away from her to marshal his thoughts. He wouldn’t think about her longing for Phillip—at least, not any more than he had to. The knowledge of it already pressed like impending disaster at the edges of his mind; rode like deadweight in his chest. He had to make her forget him.
“If the curse is being lifted,” he managed to say, “then we’d better not stop doing what it says to do.”
She nodded, her silvery gaze warm and welcoming.
They came together for another kiss.
But the telephone rang, snaring Tess’s attention. Leo answered the wall set beside him. “Cole, it’s for you.” With a brief, almost furtive glance at Tess, he muttered, “Better take it in the, er, library.”
Cole frowned. He hadn’t planned on taking any calls today. “Who is it?”
Leo’s face grew ruddy and he hesitated. After a moment, though, he lifted his beefy shoulder in a what-the-hell shrug. “It’s Ms. Lacey LaBonne. She says it’s urgent.”
*
Chapter 9
« ^ »
Funny, how something as insignificant as a phone call could burst a gal’s bubble. Telling herself she was better off now that her bubble had burst, Tess watched Cole catch the phone Leo had tossed him while she concentrated on not reacting.
“What’s the big emergency, Lacey?” Cole asked in that low, sexy voice that any woman would find devastatingly appealing.
Sitting beside him at the kitchen work island, Tess averted her gaze from him and watched Leo busy himself at the far end of the kitchen with dishwashing.
Cole, meanwhile, listened to whatever the gorgeous, leggy brunette was murmuring in his ear. “No, I’m not upset about the ‘pig’ thing. I guess some men can be pigs. I prefer not to classify myself among them, but—”
The wry humor in his voice only made Tess’s throat tighten more. She’d been having so much fun, feeling right at home, enjoying Cole’s company to the point that she’d forgotten a world existed beyond their little household. But the world did indeed exist, along with scores of women who had been—and would be—Cole’s lovers.
Nothing had prepared her for the emotion gripping her heart. Was it jealousy, that he would want other women? Partially, yes. She couldn’t deny that. But it was also possessiveness. A flat-out unwillingness to share. She didn’t want him kissing, holding, making love to anyone else. Didn’t want him indulging in intimacy or passion with any other woman. Didn’t even want him holding another woman’s hand, gazing into her eyes or flirting with her over the phone.
You’ve got to get over that, Tess! You won’t be here long … and his love life will go on. For all she knew, his love life might “go on” before their five-month marriage ended. She supposed she should talk to him about that possibility. Remind him that the curse would not be lifted if he slipped out for a discreet rendezvous, and that he could lose his inheritance if he was caught.
But with all his money and connections, he probably had the means to keep from getting caught. Her heart ached at the very thought, and she slipped off the stool to leave the kitchen, needing to distance herself from him.
He caught her wrist and pulled her to him, his gaze connecting with hers as he continued to talk to Lacey. “Yeah, well, I’m sorry to hear you’ve been, uh, anguishing that way, but your interview on television had nothing to do with me not calling you.”
Tess bit her lip and looked away. She didn’t want him to see how much this call was affecting her. She shouldn’t care on such a deeply personal level.
He slid his arm around her waist and trapped her between his knees. “You see, I’m a married man now,” he told Lacey. After a pause, he responded, “No, the marriage isn’t just a technicality. I didn’t marry her just to get the money.” The lie rolled from his lips so convincingly that Tess’s heart slowed to a near standstill. He was terribly good at lying. “So I won’t be calling you, Lacey. Our relationship is over.”
Tess’s heart picked up speed again, like a balloon lifting in a warm draft. She would not look at him. She would not let him see her acute relief. And that relief had nothing to do with curses, wills or any other practical concern.
“I don’t owe you any more of an explanation, Lacey,” he said, “but since you insist, I’ll try to explain.” After a long silence, he said in a soft but uncompromising tone, “My wife is the only one I want.” Tess couldn’t help glancing at him then. And his gaze embraced her—strong, steady and heated. “I’ve never known anyone like her. I’ve never wanted anyone like I want her.”
Her heart tripped into a heavier beat, and intoxicating warmth filled her. She heard cursing from the phon
e, then a click, and knew that Lacey had hung up.
But Cole kept hold of the receiver, as if he hadn’t noticed, his attention entirely on Tess. “I love kissing her,” he went on in hoarse, slow whisper, his gaze burning into hers. “I can kiss her for hours and hours and still want more.” He stroked her face, his thumb sweeping lightly across her lips. “And I love making love to her. I can’t tell you how much. I want to take her somewhere—on a honeymoon—and keep her to myself for days, or weeks, or months.”
A groan rose in her throat, and she caressed his face, needing to touch him. To kiss him. And so much more…
“And I’m going to do that,” he swore, “even if I have to bodily kidnap her. But first we’re going upstairs, to my bed, or the first bed we come to. We might stay there all day and all night…”
The phone clattered to the floor as she engaged him in deep, voluptuous kisses. He groaned, his hands coursing down her back every which way, pressing her body to his for a closer fit. She gave herself over to him entirely.
The annoying beep of a phone off the hook soon issued from somewhere nearby, and a deep, masculine grumbling drew nearer. Leo. She’d forgotten about Leo, and she believed that Cole had, too.
“See you later, you crazy Westcotts,” he said on his way to the door. “Don’t fall off that stool and hurt yourselves.”
*
Hours later, during a lull in their lovemaking, Tess lay beside him in bed and realized she should probably worry. He knew exactly which of her heartstrings to pull to get his way. He wanted to take her on a honeymoon. Crazy, of course, given that their marriage wasn’t for real. That fact didn’t deter him.
He suggested they go to McCrary Place
—the house her ancestors had built after a fire had destroyed their rice plantation bordering the Westcotts’ property. Legend had it that Cole’s great-grandfather had set the disastrous fire, though no one had been able to prove it. McCrary ancestors had rebuilt on the coast, near Beaufort … far enough away from those damn Westcotts to give themselves peace of mind.
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