Bachelor's Special

by Christine Warner

  Jill cleared her throat. “Ever since they’ve become an item they’ve wanted nothing more than to set me—”

  “—up on dates so you can be in love, too.” Sarcasm flecked his voice.

  Not good. He wasn’t any more interested in this blind date than she. Of course, his reasons probably didn’t match hers.

  “Exactly.” Jill folded her hands in her lap, squeezing her palms tight. Talk about awkward.

  “How many setups does this make for you?” Chet leaned back in his chair, the picture of relaxation and confidence, or maybe a bored clock-watcher.

  She almost laughed as he glanced at the platinum-colored watch on his wrist. “My first. You?”

  “I think you’re either my fourth or fifth in the last few weeks.”

  “You must be a tough customer.”

  He chuckled, and the sincere rumble relaxed the tension binding her shoulders.

  “Let’s just say I have trust issues, but all the others were Jared’s picks. Mel said you were different.”

  “Oh.” Jill dusted her palms along her dress. Thanks, Mel, for raising the expectation bar. Too bad she hadn’t been able to make her getaway before he’d shown up.

  He leaned in, studying her with an intenseness that sent shots of awareness through her. “Jill Adgate, hmm? There’s something about you. Have we met before?”

  “I-I don’t think so.” Yep, she’d done it and lied. Missed the perfect chance to come clean and end this torture.

  “There’s something familiar about you.”

  Jill shifted in her seat, focusing her attention over his left shoulder to avoid eye contact. “I doubt we travel in the same circles.”

  “Mel and Jared mentioned you’re a chef.” He smiled, but his eyes still bore into her as if dissecting her inch by inch.

  “With plans to start my own catering business.” Pride echoed in her voice, even though it didn’t transfer to the nervous energy bouncing beneath her skin.

  “Did you go through the accelerated culinary program?” The tenor of his voice tingled in her ears, and she pinched the inside of her wrist. “You don’t look old enough to be an accomplished chef, but Mel assured me you’re quite good at your job.”

  “I’m twenty-six.”

  The crease between his brow disappeared as he leaned in. “Maybe I’ve seen you at the restaurant where you work?”

  Panic rippled across her tummy. “I’m between jobs while I work on my catering business.”

  “What made you decide to become a chef?” His mouth twitched with a hint of playfulness.

  In an instant, she relaxed. “Since I was a girl, I’ve always loved to cook. The way creating a dish involves all your senses. Sound, taste, smell. I like to incorporate variety. Music in the background, the subdued and sometimes pungent aromas of spices, the taste of a good glass of wine—”

  “You have a lot more depth than I first realized, Jill Adgate.”

  “Women are like that.”

  He grinned. “Lesson learned.”

  “What about you? Mel mentioned you run the family business?” She took a quick sip from her water goblet to moisten her dry throat.

  “When my father retired I took the reins. It was rough going at first, but after several years things are back on track.”

  “Your brother said you brought the family business back to life. That must’ve been a lot of long hours and hard work.”

  “Running a business is definitely hard work. Are you sure you’re up to it?”

  She lifted her chin. “I’m capable of handling a challenge.”

  “Good for you.” He rested his elbows on the table, clasping his hands as if settling in for a long chat. “I like how passionate you are when you talk about cooking. Tell me more.”

  Jill’s heart stopped and she sat back as he leaned in toward her. His nearness drew all oxygen from her lungs. “What would you like to know?”

  Calm down. You can talk cooking in your sleep. Then how come her heart had found a new home in her knees?

  “When you’re in the kitchen, do you have one area you work at a time, as in the appetizer or the entrée, or do you jump from course to course?” That slight twitch at the left corner of his mouth drew her attention and her tummy somersaulted.

  “Depends on your rank, and also the kitchen. Each one runs differently, depending on the head chef.”

  “Does each kitchen have their own baker, or do they hire out the work to a bakery?” His eyes sparkled.

  “Again, it depends on the kitchen and the restaurant.”

  “Are you a chef who can manage both? Can you cook the appetizers and entrées as well as desserts?”

  She grabbed the water glass from the table and took another shaky sip before lowering it back to the white linen tablecloth. Several droplets spilled over the edge, dotting her knuckles.

  Desserts?

  Their encounter involved a dessert. A cake, to be exact.

  Coincidence? “Y-yes,” she squeaked.

  “Even birthday cakes?”

  Jill shoved her chair back. The sound, like fingernails on a chalkboard, dragged down her spine until she clenched her teeth. Oh my God, he knows.

  “How— What…?” Jill couldn’t think. She stood so fast she lost her footing, but before she tumbled into the table, Chet caught her in his strong arms. His heat smoldered through his jacket, sending darts of awareness across her body. She pushed at his chest with flat palms, but he didn’t budge. More than likely because her strength matched that of an overcooked noodle.

  Lights overhead twinkled, fading from bright to dim. The ground beneath her quaked—or maybe it was her legs giving out. Jill squeezed her eyes closed when the room swam then spun in a dizzying motion. Unsure how much longer she could remain standing, she grabbed the lapels of his jacket for support.

  “Take a breath.” He held her firm. His fingers dug into her flesh—not cruelly, but with a silent strength. He steered her to the chair and folded her into it.

  Jill gulped for air, then felt, rather than saw, a glass of water thrust into her hands. When her fingers folded over Chet’s warm grasp, her stomach squirmed. She drank heavily from the crystal goblet. Cool liquid put out the fire burning its way up her throat.

  “I’m sorry,” she choked out between puffs of air.

  “For what?” His lips softened, curving into a lopsided smile.

  Insanity filled her, as it had done that night. She ached to press her mouth against his. Instead, she leaned back, dragging the cedar-chip scent of his cologne along with her. She despised herself. Where the hell had her common sense gone?

  “For the c-cake.”

  A low-pitched, sexy throb escaped his lips—a chuckle being squashed. Although it should’ve been reassuring, her brain didn’t inform the panic chewing its way up her backbone.

  “I’m over it.” He brushed a wisp of hair from her cheek. The heat of his touch did crazy things to her flesh, and she sucked in a breath of air as warmth spread through her.

  “When did you know?”

  “The moment you mentioned cooking.”

  “How?” Her heart risked leaking out the peep-toe tips of her heels.

  “Your face lit up, your eyes glowed. But what really sealed the deal was your smile. I’ll never forget the curve of your lips when you smile. From the moment I walked into that kitchen—”

  “My smile?”

  Chet pulled the water glass from her fingers.

  “I don’t think I could ever forget you. I’m not blind. You’re easy on the eyes, for sure. Even more so when you talk about something you regard with such passion.”

  Her heart skipped a beat at his thinly veiled compliment, but at the same time a line of moisture dotted the nape of her neck for the predicament she found herself in.

  “So you left employment at Creations to go it alone?”

  Jill took a gulp of air to calm her nerves. Chet had no idea she’d been fired.

  She attempted to shake her head, but
the only motion she managed was a slight shrug.

  “So how do I go about reserving your well-honed chef skills?”

  Her knees quaked, and she pressed them together to stop them from shaking. “I’m not officially in business yet.”

  “How come?”

  She waved away his words. “Boring mumbo-jumbo stuff that I’m sure you don’t want to hear.”

  “You’re wrong. I do want to hear.” His lopsided grin spread until it was a full-fledged smile. Tiny lines fanned out from the edges of his deep-set eyes, and he raked a look over her as if she sat before him naked. Almost as potent as the look he’d given her a year ago.

  A swirling sensation filled her belly, and Jill nervously wrapped a strand of hair around one finger, twisting it so tight it cut off circulation. She slid her finger out, then repeated the motion. “I’m kind of embarrassed to say.”

  “Don’t be. We all started somewhere. Maybe I can give you some pointers.”

  “Well, I can’t ask for business advice quite yet.” She chuckled, still fidgeting with her hair. “In order to get everything rolling, I need money. It’s all boiled down to my lack of it.”

  In an instant, his entire demeanor changed from approachable to downright arctic. His jaw hardened and his body grew rigid. “Is that the reason you agreed to this date?”

  “What?” Jill leapt to her feet.

  He stood as well, resting his hands on his hips, his jacket opening to reveal the confident rise and fall of his chest. She marveled at his control, wishing some of it would attach itself to her.

  “According to my head of security, you’re about as broke as they come. I assumed you’d dumped everything into your start-up, but now I see you haven’t. How do you expect to launch a business without any type of funding?”

  “Head of— You had me checked out with security?”

  He chuckled—and not the good-time chuckle of a man having fun. “After a string of bad business deals when my father owned Castle Engineering, and then becoming engaged to a woman who had one hand on my wallet and the other in my bank account, I’d say I deserve the right to run a background check on anyone I enter into a dating contract with.”

  “Dating contra—” She waved his cold words away. She had bigger walleye to fry. “But we were set up by friends. Well, my friend and your brother. They wouldn’t intentionally set you up with someone out to—”

  “Then why didn’t you admit that we’d met before?”

  Jill stepped back. “Listen. You’re taking this all wrong. After the year I’ve had, Mel only wanted to set me up to get my mind off things. Not to help me secure a loan.”

  He forked his fingers through his hair and sighed. “What’s happened in the last year?”

  She wouldn’t sugarcoat it. “It’s been pure hell. I’ve been let go from four jobs, I can’t get a loan from any bank in town, I’m about to lose my apartment, and my best friend—”

  “Mel?”

  “That’s the one. Well, she’s offered to just give me the money to start my business, but I don’t want her charity. I want to do it on my own. And I will.” Jill grabbed her purse from the table. She didn’t want to feud with Chet Castle a moment longer. Let him think what he would. She moved to brush past him.

  He blocked her path and grabbed her wrist. “Was that the idea here? Meet a rich man and use your charms for a loan?”

  Anger boiled. She yanked out of his grasp, fighting the urge to bop him over the head with her purse and knock some sense into him. “If you’d been listening, you’d know I want to start my business on my own. Not through the help of friends, or the way you’re implying. That’s plain sick. You’re making an assumption without knowing the facts, or me.”

  “I think I got all the facts I need from Smith.”

  “Smith?”

  “Head of security.”

  Jill waved away his words with a flick of her wrist. “So you knew who I was then, too?”

  “Not exactly. We never exchanged niceties in the kitchen. All I knew when I walked in tonight was that you were broke, everything else fell into place as we talked.”

  Time to make a dignified exit, or as much of one as she could manage. “I’m sorry for all of this, but it wasn’t like I had grandiose plans of liquoring you up and flying to Vegas to get married by Elvis so I could have access to your bank accounts.”

  “Then what was this?”

  She sighed, counting to ten mentally. This man might be gorgeous, but he had the personality of a worm. He folded his arms across his chest, his face tightening with skepticism.

  “I don’t need to explain my motivation to you. I know the truth, and it wasn’t to take advantage of some supposedly wealthy man. Good night, Chet. Sorry for your troubles.” Jill pushed past him, moving through the restaurant as if her feet were attached to skates.

  Chapter Two

  The ice in Chet’s veins thawed, restarting his heart. Jill rushed across the crowded restaurant floor before he had time to reply. Though not tall—five-five or six—her willowy form, straight posture, and narrow shoulders gave her the appearance of height. With a proud tilt to her chin, she tromped down the stares of several auspicious couples spaced throughout the room before focusing straight ahead.

  Had he misjudged her? After almost six years, was he doomed to compare every woman he met against Gina, his money-hungry ex?

  Jill’s face burned a picture into his mind. Her raven-colored bangs rolled under and contrasted with her light complexion. Her pert little nose, flecked with tiny freckles, had haunted his dreams for the last year. He’d been unable to get her out of his mind, and even seeing her at first tonight, he’d doubted his own memory. Until she’d smiled.

  That smile, along with the tears lighting her eyes that night in the kitchen a year ago, was what had driven him to take her in his arms and kiss her. An impulse he’d questioned many times over the last several months.

  A chill shot across his flesh and he shook it off. She was cute. And the sexy way she dressed from another era… He liked how she dared to be different in a world of designer clones.

  Hell no, she wasn’t cute. She was a bona fide, fifties-throwback bombshell.

  Chet hadn’t spotted the bombshell quality when she’d been wrapped in chef garb, but there was no chance of missing it tonight. He’d forced himself to listen as her perfect red-lipsticked mouth enunciated each syllable in her throaty, sex-phone-operator voice. Not at any other time in his life had he felt such an overwhelming attraction to a woman—not since their jaw-dropping kiss in the kitchen—and he was letting her walk out without a backward glance.

  Not on your life!

  He still didn’t fully understand what had made him kiss her that night—was it the fact he felt out of control when her eyes filled with tears? Whatever the feelings, they overcame him again. There was something about Jill…

  Hell, he’d actually gone back to the restaurant several months later because he couldn’t stop thinking about her. And now here she was. Alive and in person.

  Chet darted through the restaurant, ignoring the open-mouthed stares of the other patrons and several of the wait staff. He pushed through the double doors in hopes of catching Jill before she had a chance to leave.

  The sputter of an engine and flicker of headlights coming from the far corner of the parking area drew his attention. Jill’s shadowy profile was illuminated in the bright lights of the lot.

  He couldn’t let her go. Wouldn’t let her walk out of his life without some type of guarantee he’d see her again. He wasn’t attracted to Jill in the normal sense—his whole body went into full alert when she was around.

  He’d almost screwed up when he’d taken the defensive. Hell, maybe he had.

  He needed to see her again. Nothing long-term, not his style. But a date, or two, or three. After a year of her teasing him in his dreams, the only way to work her out of his system would be to sample her kisses again, and then have her in his bed.

  Desperati
on steered Chet across the parking lot. Her car stalled as she shifted into reverse. Maybe he could offer her a job working for him through the fund-raising season? Or he could offer to co-sign a loan? All he knew was that he needed to make a deal so he could see her again. He felt certain if he just asked her out, she’d refuse. But, if she agreed to his plan he’d have a chef in his kitchen, and hopefully a sexy woman in his bed.

  He tapped on her side window and she gaped up at him, lips parted and eyes so blue they appeared lavender.

  She rolled down her window, a tentative smile on her lips. “I don’t want any trouble, Chet. Let’s just forget—”

  “I have a proposition. You need to hear me out.”

  “A prop— No I don’t think so. Not a good idea.” Her thin-lipped, stern look rivaled Sister Catherine’s, the nun who had been in charge of his elementary education.

  “You’ll never know unless you hear what I have to say.” He grinned, easing the tension running the length of his back.

  Jill’s tight expression relaxed some and she removed her hand from the ignition. “Make it quick.”

  Chet opened the door and took her hand, helping her from her seat. He needed to move her from the offensive. “First off, let me apologize. I admit I’m gun-shy when it comes to relationships, and I know my family has a one-track mind in the hopes of me finding one.”

  “So then why did you agree to a date?” She tucked a strand of hair behind one ear with shaky fingers.

  “To get my brother, Mel, and my entire family off my back. This dating business is just one more attempt by my family to help me get past Gina.”

  “I assume she’s the woman with green dye permanently staining her fingers and dollar-sign eyes?”

  He liked her quick wit. “That isn’t why I stopped you. I want to offer you something to help you get your catering business going.”

  “Apparently you didn’t hear a word of what I said. I’m not interested in your money.”

  “You’re so skeptical.”

  “I think I should be. We hardly know each other, and it’s not like we met in the best of circumstances. You think I’m a liar and a cheat and I think… Well, we won’t worry about what I think.” She dropped her gaze to rest somewhere between his nose and chin.