A Convenient Scandal

by Kimberley Troutte

  They were making out like teenagers on the blanket when a speedboat pulled into the cove. Jeff started to sit up and Michele turned to look, too.

  And saw a telephoto lens pointed at them.

  “Get down,” Jeff told Michele as he covered her head with his arms.

  But it was too late.

  The camera had caught him and a woman in a compromising position. Again.

  Seventeen

  They scrambled to grab their stuff and hop in the dinghy to make it to the yacht and catch up with the photographer. Jeff didn’t care as much about his reputation as he did Michele’s. Everyone already thought he was a playboy. Michele didn’t deserve to have her name and personal details dragged through the dirt. If he could catch the guy, he’d talk some sense into him and pay whatever it took to kill the shot. “Hold on,” he told Michele, glancing over his shoulder to make sure she was safe before he floored the yacht across the waves. He drove the boat like a madman for a few minutes before he acknowledged the truth.

  It was too late. The cameraman had a speedboat and knew how to use it. Jeff slowed the vessel. Running he hand through his hair he faced her. “Sorry. There’s no chance.”

  Her chin was high but he could see the worry in her eyes. “What will he do with the photos?”

  “It’ll be okay. Come here, sweetheart.” He took her in his arms.

  She lifted her head and the usual sparkle in her eyes had turned to flashing fear. “Those private pictures of us were...intimate.”

  Dammit. He saw all too clearly how he was messing up her life. “He’ll sell them to the highest bidder. I’ll get the PR team on it, see if we can buy them before someone else does.”

  “And if they can’t buy them? What if Finn did this as another way to destroy you? He’ll post them everywhere.”

  Yeah, he would. A firestorm raged inside his gut. How could he protect Michele?

  “We have to stop Finn,” she said with fierce determination.

  He ran his finger down her cheek. “This is my fight, not yours. I shouldn’t have dragged you into it. You shouldn’t be with a guy like me.”

  She wrapped her arms around him and pressed her cheek to his bare chest. “What if I want to be with a guy like you?”

  He sucked in a breath. Her words were a soft rain on the fire in his chest.

  “Even with all my past?”

  She rose up on her toes and pulled his lips toward hers. “Yes.”

  * * *

  That night, Jeff slept alone. He’d kissed Michele goodnight and told her he had work to do. He’d worked with the PR team until dawn to no avail. They couldn’t find any information on the photographer in the speedboat.

  He’d never really worried about the women in his paparazzi shots before. This time he did care and would do anything he could to keep her out of his press.

  What was he going to do about Michele?

  Being with her had changed him.

  Despite the paparazzi interrupting his and Michele’s last kiss on the sand, he felt like he’d become a new man overnight.

  He’d never found a woman he could talk to like her. Hell, he’d told her things he’d been afraid to admit to himself. Yet she hadn’t run, hadn’t judged. And she’d touched him like no one ever had—with reverence, kindness, and heat that had rocked him to the core.

  Damn, they had sizzling chemistry. Even though he hadn’t slept the entire night and had to get his head into the job at the restaurant site, he was still aroused thinking about their time on the beach. He wanted her now.

  He slipped a note under her door.

  “Please join me for dinner tonight. Yes, it’s another date. Say yes.”

  He couldn’t wait to see her naked again and drive deep inside her—maybe in his shower and then in his bed. Maybe twice in his bed.

  At dinnertime, he called it a day at the building site and headed back to the house to find Michele. Since the chef competition was over, Donna and the rest of the cooking staff had come back to work. He was happy to see them, but a little disappointed that Michele wasn’t in the kitchen. He’d grown accustomed to seeing her sweet face screwed up in concentration as she cooked. Not to mention her cute ass bending over the oven.

  He was getting hard just thinking about her.

  Only one thing to do...bound down the hall, take her in his arms and show her how much he’d missed her. When he got to her room, she was talking on her phone and sitting on a lounge chair on the balcony. The setting sun framed her in golden light and the ocean breeze lifted her long hair. He watched her stare out over the gardens.

  God, she was stunning. His heartbeat sped up and there was a strange warmth filling him. He’d never felt anything like that before. It both scared and awed him.

  “Yes, I see why you were in total lust with Jeffrey Harper,” she laughed. “I get it. Boy, do I get it.”

  He grinned. She was talking about him, huh? He liked that more than he dared admit. Would she talk about his blue eyes, his red hair or his six-pack? Those were the three things most articles mentioned about him.

  “He’s a good man,” she said.

  Her words stunned him like a flash of sunlight on a black day. No one had ever called him a good man before and hearing it from her lips melted something hard that had been lodged in his chest. It also worried the hell out of him.

  He wanted to be the man Michele thought he was. But there wasn’t anything good about him. That wasn’t going to change. He’d sleep with her for a while, make sure she had a good time, but then he’d have to follow through with his promise to his dad and find a wife.

  The idea didn’t sit well with him anymore.

  “It happened fast, but yes,” she went on softly. “I’m falling for him.”

  Warning bells rang in every part of his psyche.

  She can’t be in love with me.

  Michele went on, “Please, don’t let Cari see the picture of us at the dinner party. She’ll think I’m marrying him and that’s not going to happen. We want different things.”

  That knocked him back.

  Michele didn’t believe they had a future together, either. It was the truth. He needed to marry someone he couldn’t hurt.

  So why did her words sting so damned much? He turned around and walked away.

  * * *

  Michele was disappointed when Jeff hadn’t come to collect her for dinner last night. One of the staff had dropped off a note that said Jeff had work to do and she should eat without him. He seemed to be extremely busy working on the restaurant.

  The next morning, still dreaming about that beach encounter, she went into the kitchen and found the regular staff in place. She smiled and introduced herself to them. When an older woman with white hair named Donna stepped forward to shake her hand, Michele hugged her instead.

  “Thank you for taking care of Jeff,” she whispered in Donna’s ear. “He told me about the shed.”

  Donna pulled back with wide eyes. “He told you?”

  Michele nodded. “The secret is safe with me.”

  “Oh, sweet girl. Jeff has needed someone like you his entire life.” Donna pulled Michele into a huge bear hug.

  They nodded at each other, insta-friends.

  “What can I make you?” Donna asked.

  “Actually, I was hoping I could jump in here with you and make a lunch for Jeff.” Her brain was overflowing with recipes. Her cooking muse was back.

  “Of course! He’d love that.”

  “I won’t get in your way. I’m leaving in a few days anyway.”

  “What? No, you can’t go.”

  “I’ve got to go back to New York to collect my things, pay rent and figure out how to bring my sister to California. But I want to do something nice for Jeff before I go.”

  “Sure, hon. My kitchen is your kitchen.”
/>
  Later, Michele went down to the job site. The framing was finished. The restaurant seemed to be coming along faster than Jeff had said it would. It made her realize that she had a lot to do to be ready for opening night. She’d ask Donna if she could use Casa Larga’s kitchen to create new recipes for the restaurant. Her brain was bubbling over with ideas.

  Jeff came out of the building. He wasn’t smiling and he didn’t come close enough to touch.

  Why the distance?

  “Michele, what are you doing here?”

  “I brought you lunch.”

  “That wasn’t necessary.”

  She frowned. His vibe was all wrong. Was he mad at her?

  “I know. I wanted to...” See you. Touch you. Kiss you. “...feed you. That’s all.”

  He took the bundle from her hands. “Thanks.”

  She stood there, wondering what was going on with him. “So...”

  He waited.

  Okay, then.

  He was busy or in a bad mood. She rushed on. “I won’t take up any more of your time. I just wanted to know if I could go home for a couple of weeks to check on my sister. I miss her terribly. You know, if there was one thing I could change it would be to have her live with me. She needs round-the-clock care but I am sure there must be group homes in California, even if I have to drive a ways to get there.”

  She saw a subtle shift in his demeanor, a softening. But it passed quickly. He crossed his arms over his chest, closing himself off. “Fine. Distance between us is probably a good thing right now.”

  She blinked. “Jeff, what’s the matter?”

  He stepped closer and she could feel the intensity rising off his body in waves. “You can’t love me, Michele. I won’t allow it.”

  Her mouth opened. “Excuse me?”

  “I told you. I’m broken, just like my mother. I sure as hell don’t want to hurt you, of all people. God, Michele, you’re special. Sweet. The gentlest person I’ve ever met. It’ll kill me to cause you any pain. That’s why we should stop seeing one another, except professionally.”

  You can’t love me. She didn’t know how he’d known, but it was the truth. She was starting to fall for him.

  She couldn’t help it.

  “Jeff...” She reached for him but stopped, not wanting to see him recoil from her touch. “Maybe if we give it a little time—”

  “I’m almost out of time.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Instead of answering her question, he said, “Go home and see your sister. I’ll give you three weeks to decide if you still want to work for me, knowing that I have to marry someone else.”

  Her heart broke. “You have to? Or want to?”

  “It’s not my choice. My father has made it part of my work contract. I have to marry someone when the restaurant is finished.”

  If her jaw could have hit the dirt, she would be tripping over it. “That’s...months away.”

  The muscles in his jaw flexed. “I keep hoping I can change his mind, but he’s a stubborn bastard.”

  None of this seemed real. He’d slept with her knowing he would be marrying someone else? “Who...?”

  He lifted his hands. “I haven’t found a bride yet.”

  “This is crazy! Your father can’t make you do this.”

  “He can. I promised I would abide by the contract. I signed it.” He exhaled through his nose. “Listen, I’m sorry. Not for what we had, that was amazing, but I can’t get you messed up in my family drama, because you are too important to me.”

  “As your chef,” she clarified.

  “And I hope as a friend. But I leave the decision up to you. Think about it while you are in New York. If you don’t want the job, I’ll call Freja. I never wanted to hurt you.”

  He turned and walked away.

  * * *

  The kitchen stoves and appliances arrived that same day.

  Jeff was busy directing the installations and didn’t think about Michele, much. But when the sun went down and he had to eat dinner alone, their discussion weighed on him. The hurt look when he told her he was still marrying someone else tore him up, especially knowing that he’d put that sadness on her beautiful face. He cared about her, more than he should. Letting her go was for her own good. Once she was in New York she’d see he was lousy boyfriend material. She deserved so much more.

  God, he should’ve chosen Freja for his chef. At least then he wouldn’t torture himself every time he stepped into the kitchen. He wasn’t good about abstaining from treats he couldn’t have. Not being able to kiss Michele would be hard. That is if she decided to return. For her own good she should never return. But for his good? He still wanted her beside him. What a selfish bastard he was.

  Even now he wanted to see her, touch her, inhale her sweet perfume. He went to find her to apologize for being so harsh earlier and beg her to stay. But he found her room empty. She’d already left.

  What if she didn’t come back? Had he lost his best chef? The only woman he’d ever cared about?

  This was RW’s fault. Dad was the one making Jeff get married. If he didn’t have that stupid cloud over his head, he could date Michele and not worry about the future. They could simply enjoy one another for a while. Be together for as long as it lasted.

  He didn’t want to think about his own role in creating this heartache.

  He stomped into RW’s wing determined to make his father change his demands. He passed the guard and stepped into a dark hallway.

  “Dad?” he called. “You in here?”

  No answer. Frowning, Jeff turned on the hallway lights and knocked on RW’s door. Music was playing inside. A strange foreboding came over him. Something wasn’t right. He opened the door and stepped into total blackness. He fumbled around to find the light switch and was startled to see his father sitting at his desk drinking bourbon while a Mexican song blasted.

  His father didn’t drink. As far as Jeff knew, he didn’t speak Spanish.

  What the hell was going on?

  “Dad? What’s wrong?”

  “Angel left. She took Cristina and the boy and drove away. How can I stay here and...breathe? I can’t do this, any of it, without her. She was the only person who saw past this...” RW slapped his own chest “...this stupid man.”

  Jeff had never heard so much pain in his father’s voice, in anyone’s voice. “Where did she go? Is she all right?”

  The look in his father’s eyes was heart wrenching. It reminded him of the pain he’d been pushing past since he’d ended things with Michele.

  “I don’t know. How can I protect her when she won’t let me? She said she couldn’t put me at risk. Me! As if I wasn’t dead before she started treating me.”

  Jeff ran his hand through his hair. “Let’s go after her.”

  “No, dammit! Cuchillo will expect me to follow her. It’s too risky.” He grabbed Jeff’s collar. “Swear you won’t go after her.”

  Jeff gripped his father’s wrist. “Fine. We’ll wait for her to contact you.”

  “I’m not a patient man.”

  Jeff snorted. “Yeah, I know. But unless you have a better plan...”

  RW shook his head and lifted the bottle to his lips.

  Jeff pulled it away. “That’s not helping. You stopped drinking, remember?”

  “For Angel. She told me I couldn’t see what was right in front of me from the bottom of a bottle. But without her... I lost my family and now my...angel. I’m alone.” RW slumped over his desk.

  “You’re not alone. I won’t leave you.” Jeff hoisted RW up from under his arms. “Come on, Dad. Let’s walk it off.”

  * * *

  The next morning, Jeff woke up and cracked his back. He’d had a lousy night’s sleep in the chair beside his father’s bed. But at least his father’s problems had kept Jeff’s mind fr
om lingering on Michele.

  RW opened his eyes and cursed, gripping his head. Jeff handed him two aspirin and a bottle of water.

  “Glad Angel isn’t here to see me like this,” RW said, his voice gravelly.

  Jeff shrugged. “One bad night. Put it behind you and do better.”

  RW lifted his lips in a half grin, half grimace. “You sound like her. Of you three kids, she worried about you the most.”

  “Angel worried about me? Why?”

  “Chloe told us about what your mother did to you in the shed and Matt told us that you worry you can never fall in love.”

  Jeff bolted up. “What the hell? You all sat around talking about me behind my back?”

  “To help you, son. That’s what families do.” RW rose, too, swayed a little and put his hands on Jeff’s shoulders. “I swear, I didn’t know your mother left you out in the shed.”

  When RW grimaced that time, Jeff wondered if it was hangover pain or from imagining what his little boy had gone through. Part of him wanted his father to feel real pain. A white-hot poker of justice.

  Something to block out his own pain over mistakes made.

  “Bullshit. How could you not know how she was? Why didn’t you stop her, Dad?”

  RW nodded. “You’re right. I should’ve been there to save you. It was my fault, Jeffrey. That’s another thing on me that I need to make amends for, a bad one. Give me the blame and let your shame go.”

  Weakness seeped into Jeff’s legs. “I need to sit down.” He’d never heard his father accept the blame so quickly, and then apologize. It knocked him back, and he crumpled into the chair.

  “Listen to me, son. You’re nothing like your mother. You are ambitious, thick-skinned and strong. That’s why your mother took her anger out on you. Not because you’re like her, but because you are like me. She probably didn’t even know that’s why she picked on you so much.”