by Michele Hart
“I have some pull around here. I’ll get you in on whatever heaven the master cooks up. Rubia’s business manager’s a sucker for a pretty redhead. You’ll get right in.”
Another bite of cheesecake, and she was without new words of appreciation. “Now you know where to find me just before a nuclear war. I’ll be in Rubia’s cooler, shoving entire cheesecakes into my mouth.”
“Planned ahead, huh? I like a woman with plans.”
“Plans, I have. You’ll be here early in the morning for a stock-check, then?”
“Yeah, Sissy and I will compare the stock room with records to confirm nothing was stolen, but she’s pretty sure nothing’s gone. She knows her stock well.”
Elissa scrunched her powers of detection. “Why break in if you don’t steal something?”
“I’m suspecting they might’ve brought something instead of taken something.”
Eyes squinty, he proposed, “What if someone from the Cook-off’s competition was looking for Julian’s menu? If they knew what ingredients he would use, they may get the crazy idea of replacing a good ingredient with a bad, swap sugar for salt. Or perhaps cause some uproar here at the restaurant that would embarrass Rubia’s into withdrawing from the contest.”
“Sabotage.”
Greg nodded ominously.
“Does Julian store his menu in the restaurant?” she asked, just before he scooped up another hunk of cheesecake and put it to her lips. She imagined getting arrested over this much pleasure. If she were Catholic, she’d owe some Hail Marys for this one. Chocolate toffee cheesecake and Greg. She’d owe a lot of Hail Marys.
“No, Julian knows better. He’s won this contest for seven of the last ten years it’s been running. Another chef might want to knock him out of the competition.”
“Easy fix. Make sure Julian buys all new ingredients the day of the Cook-off.”
“I’m sure he plans that for the freshness of ingredients.”
Honing her attention onto Greg, she didn’t want to sound like an investigator, but the target tickled her brain. “So, you chase zeroes for Rubia’s.”
He nodded, again admitting to belonging to one of the city’s most respected families and prosperous businesses. “I’ve put some investors together, and we’ll be voting on franchise plans in a week, just after the Cook-off. Then it’ll be work, work, work again. Especially if Julian wins the Cook-off. We’ll be in an even better negotiating position.”
Dragging her finger through the chocolate sauce decorations of the finest dessert she recalled ever having, she proposed, “We should probably call it a night. Sounds like you have a long day tomorrow.”
“Yeah, I should take you home. It’s pistols at dawn for me. I’ve a problem you might be able to help with, if you have the time.”
“I’m glad to help.”
“Are you working Monday afternoon?”
“It’s your lucky day. Monday’s the only day I have off from both class and work. I received an email today that said the instructor of my Monday class has excused himself for an out-of-state funeral, so I’m free.”
Greg looked pleased. “I’ve an investors’ meeting Monday, and I’m expecting an afternoon delivery at my place. Where I’ll not be. Can I give you my keys and have you house-sit just for the afternoon? If it doesn’t interfere with anything else you’ve already planned. The wine shipment for the Cook-off will be delivered to my place. Your house-sitting would help me out a lot. I’ll even pay you for your time.”
Elissa shook her head, a little disappointed at any reference to money between them. “You don’t have to pay me. I’m not all about the money.”
He gave a grateful smile, a sexy smile.
“I don’t mind doing it. I’d only be studying at home, and I can study at your place.” She was game for anything that brought her closer to him. Well, at least for a while, until he grew disinterested in their silly game.
Sissy, Allen, and Derek emerged from the kitchen door and strolled over to their table. Sissy sat beside Greg, and Allen leaned against the wooden support of the booth. Derek pulled a chair from a nearby table, spun it, and mounted it.
“Have you called Mom?” Greg asked.
Derek shook his head. “We figured it could wait until morning. Why wake her up with bad news?”
Sissy blew a defeated draw of air and swept away a lock of ebony hair determined to irritate her. “We’re not all that sure we’ve been robbed.”
Greg took a labored breath. “The Bay Cook-off is a week away, and there’s bound to be a restaurant out there that would love to take Julian out of the competition. Our robber may not have come to steal something but deliver something, something bad.”
Sissy groaned. “Does that mean we’re going to replace our entire stock?”
Greg nodded, portraying quiet misery. “Everything not sealed in cans or bottles. We can’t take chances. How do we know we haven’t just acquired a poisoned ingredient?”
“Oh, geez,” Allen commented. “It’s possible. A bout of food poisoning before the competition would throw Rubia’s right out of play, would even damage the restaurant’s reputation for a while.”
Greg drummed his fingers on the oaken tabletop. “We’re not opening the door for it. After the stock-check, we’ll send Sissy and Val to the markets and replace every ingredient that doesn’t have a backup, and inspect the unopened packages. Better safe than sorry.”
Sissy whined, “That’ll cost, big time.”
Greg shook his head, a determined eyebrow arched. “Not as much as food poisoning and bad press. That’s tomorrow’s plan. I’ll see you here at eight in the morning.”
* * * *
Greg took the keys from Elissa’s hand, and unlocked her apartment door, opening it for her entrance to find Penny and Smoochy nestled into the corner of the tweed couch, munching on corn chips while watching late-night cartoons.
“I didn’t expect you home so early,” Penny said, as Smoochy hopped from her lap and raced to greet them. Elissa scooped up the little dog and nuzzled the sweet creature to receive kisses from Heaven.
“Our night was cut short by an evil-doer,” Elissa reported.
“Evil-doer?”
Greg closed the door behind them and tossed her keys onto the livingroom coffee table. “My family’s restaurant was robbed tonight.”
Penny’s eyes grew big. “No one was hurt, were they?”
“No, all done behind a busy staff’s backs on a packed Saturday night,” he groaned.
Penny returned a pouty face of sympathy.
“Would you like some coffee?” Elissa asked. “I have decaf.”
Greg took a seat on the couch and smiled her way. “I’d like that.”
Smoochy hopped onto his lap and collapsed against him as though he were a lifelong friend. Greg happily scratched the Maltese behind an ear, causing a leg to kick.
Penny rose to her feet. “I volunteer to do the coffee. You get out of your ugly clothes.”
“Bless you,” Elissa whispered to her neighbor, then she turned to see him very at-home with his feet up on the ottoman and a cute dog in his lap. She was glad to see he liked dogs. Any man who loved his mother and dogs has to be a great man.
Elissa ripped off the awful red hat that concealed her distinctive hair, and she wagged it to aerate her head. The glasses had long lost their place on her face before they’d made it from the mansion to his car.
“I really must change into my own clothes. This outfit is pretty discouraging, makes me feel like a person I don’t want to be. I’ll be back in just a moment.”
With his nod, she slipped into her room and closed the door, then she strode to her closet, collecting a soft, comfy pair of jeans and a cotton and lace-inspired top, eager to don garments she liked much better.
Clothes changed, she zipped into her bathroom, released the braid and thrilled to discover her red hair rippled from the tight weave. Running her fingers gently through her tresses, she spotted the toffee body spray an
d remembered how he’d praised it, saying it made him crave sweet things. She gave herself a blast of the spray, then she applied a touch of mascara to bring out her eyes. She never was much of a make-up maven, and a little artful addition of color made a world of difference. Less was more.
Elissa stopped cold, staring at herself in the mirror.
What am I doing? Getting worked up over Greg. Isn’t this just a business arrangement we have together? We’re plucking the Amigos of their unwisely gambled cash, not really involved in an emotional affair, not even really dating.
Am I about to raise my hopes for something unrealistic when a month from now, he’ll drift out of my life?
She gazed at herself in the mirror, put together better than before. She’d peered over thick-lensed glasses all night to see the world of wealth around her. Without any obvious attention to her appearance, she’d been bland and unattractive, far from a man-magnet by any stretch of the imagination. She recalled every odd look at the party when Sissy told people Elissa was Greg’s girlfriend.
She didn’t need a college degree to read between the lines. Greg dated much prettier women than her, probably dated women far more successful and from prominent families with old money, new Ferraris, and Ivy League educations. She remembered all the sorority girls at the party and knew she couldn’t compete with their designer lives and pedigrees. She didn’t wish to.
Greg was Macy’s, and Elissa was K-Mart. They didn’t belong in the same world, much less the same mall.
The party kiss, as passionate as it was—or seemed—had been a part of the scam they ran on his friends. She needed to take a cleansing breath and bring herself back to Earth before she assumed, or hoped for, something more than was really there.
Elissa didn’t want to see what wasn’t really there.
Directing herself to more realistic expectations, she smoothed her outfit and told herself to stand strong. To expect more than their business deal was to set herself up for heartbreak. It had been too long since she’d last gone on a date, and she was bound to be overexcited, possibly desperate.
This is just a business deal. This is just a business deal.
Pressing herself to composure, Elissa exited the bedroom and went straight to the kitchen for coffee mugs. “How do you like your coffee?”
“Toffee-flavored,” Greg replied. She turned to him sitting on the couch, and she caught his grand smile.
Always one to sense timing, Penny rose from the couch to her feet again and collected her dog. “We’ve got an early call tomorrow. Smoochy and I gotta go cliff-diving with rock stars, so we’re heading for bed. Good night, all.”
The neighbors made their quick exit.
Elissa and Greg were alone. For the first time. Her heart began to pound, and she felt a little light-headed. The temperature of the room surged.
Chapter 5
Chanting to herself a calm mantra, Elissa told him, “I actually have no toffee in the house. Will you settle for cream and sugar?”
Greg rose from the couch and strode into the tiny kitchen to stand beside her, and his handsome brown eyes wandered over her. His sandalwood scent undermined her.
“Black coffee is fine. You can always stick your finger in it to make it sweet.”
“Smooth talker,” she replied around the little smile she battled, wishing the flush he gave her to fade quickly. His proximity caused goose bumps to chase over her flesh, and she had no way of suppressing that, so she busied herself moving coffee cups around on the shelf as if each one had a specific place. Anything to keep from looking like she shook with nerves, because she did.
Greg leaned toward her and took in a deep breath of her personal space. “Toffee. If I keep smelling that, I’ll have to throw some ice cream on you.”
Covertly fighting off a mild nervous fit caused by his closeness, she poured the coffee into her nicest crystal coffee mugs, the ones no one would ever guess came from the student exchange on campus. She hoped he didn’t notice the small shiver rocking the coffee pot. “Sounds cold.”
“Not on you. Nothing cold could last long on you.”
Before she could barely process the compliment, he reached up and stroked a rippled lock of her hair, pulling it through his thumb and fingers as if appreciating it, then he locked it behind her ear.
What a seducer …
An unexpected titillation at his touch made her realize she was in the hands of a pro, a Latin woman-tamer engaging innuendo and soft caress to steal a woman’s body for a night. She was determined not to fall into his man-magic, no matter how darkly handsome he was or how his deep voice hypnotized her. She’d underestimated her attraction to him, and his power to break her resolve.
Working to suppress the enticing pleasure of his small contact, she passed him a filled coffee mug, and he wrapped his fingers around hers, then slowly took the mug from her hand. His touch electrified her, and she guessed he knew that. He assaulted her with soft sensations on purpose, casting his body mesmerism.
Moving back into the livingroom, they invaded the couch, taking sips of steaming coffee and settling the mugs onto the coffee table. He sat closer to her than he needed to, considering the size of the couch. It quickened her all over, and she had to stomp it back into obedience.
She must’ve looked nervous.
“So, tell me about your new job, Club Reno’s. When do you start?”
She drew a breath of relief to be released from his subtle male dominance that had stood beside her in the kitchen, stroking her hair as if he admired captured prey. Now snug on the couch and feeling much safer with a cushion of air between them, she took another sip of the coffee to occupy her hands, and she had to purposefully organize her thoughts to answer his question.
“I start tomorrow night. Sunday’s a slow night, so they’ll train me. Ever been there?”
“Oh, yeah.” Naughty grin. “The servers wear obscenely short skirts bound to up their tips. I can’t wait to see you in the uniform. Doesn’t George Staples own Reno’s?”
“I think the manager mentioned that name.”
“I’ll have to call him tomorrow and have you fired.”
She burst into new laughter and shook a fist. “You better not, so help me God.”
“Okay, since you called God onto the scene. Don’t wanna start a religious war.”
“Tell me about your relationship with the Amigos, the guys we’re rolling for a grand.”
Greg took another draw from his mug. “Like I said, Derek’s my little brother, an accident on my part. Allen grew up next door in our old neighborhood. We’ve known him forever. Jerry’s another one of the neighborhood kids who played with my kid brother. I was a little older, and they watched me in my teenage years enter the world. They’re better guys than they act in public. It’s just entertainment for them to act juvenile.”
“I remember hearing Allen say Sissy was his future wife.”
Greg laughed. “Yeah, they play a game. Sissy acts like she wouldn’t have him. Every now and then, I see their eyes meet in a way that alludes to more than childhood playmates. Allen’s claimed her since he was ten and she was six.”
Elissa smiled in surprise. “That’s cute. I saw Sissy watching Allen now and then, but I’d thought it was my imagination. What’s keeping them apart?”
“Allen’s not done being a kid yet. He lives an interesting life, an adult during his day job, a fourteen year old boy at night. I can see him growing out of his juvenile phases, finally. I’ve a feeling he’ll be looking Sissy up for more than two old friends sharing drinks at the bar. Sissy will be lurking in the background until then, talking about how she doesn’t care for him.”
“Here we are, pretending to fall in love, and they’re pretending not to.”
“Irony, again.”
“It follows us. Well,” Elissa commented with a raised brow, “Allen does seem a bit shallow.”
Greg laughed again. “Oh, I think Allen mostly fakes it for fun. Picking on me is a sport for him, bu
t what are friends for? I’ve done the same to him, a fair exchange.”
Elissa couldn’t suppress her smile. “What about the mysterious Jerry?”
“Jerry took over his father’s import business a few years ago before I came home from college. I haven’t seen much of him lately. We’re not as close as we used to be.”
Greg took another swallow of coffee, no longer steamy. “Derek’s taking business classes. When he graduates, I’ll bring him into Rubia’s management. We’ll need him. If things go well, we’re going to open a few Rubia’s in DC and New York, and I’ll need him.”
Elissa burst into a new smile. She could smell the sandalwood soap on his skin. Usually a keen sense of smell wasn’t that rewarding. “How in the world will you stretch Julian so far?”
“Human cloning. Luckily, cooking skill runs in the family. We’ve just sent three cousins and Julian’s little brother, Val, to culinary school, and Julian will become Rubia’s executive chef, managing menus and food issues, along with cooking for us. Every now and then, we’ll send him on tour to cook for the other restaurants. He’ll be a rock star. Who knows, could be a cooking show in his future.”
Admiration filled her heart for Greg and his smart business strategy. Her smile hurt. “I can’t wait to see it happen. Is Julian ready to be a rock star? Talented chefs can get quite big these days.”
“You know, I haven’t asked him. This is all a carefully constructed plot long ago hatched by my father. Dad had planned to send many of the cooking Rubias to culinary college and open other restaurants in places of influence where they’d be on the lips of every food lover. I’ve added the part where we specifically market Julian to important eyes, spread out to a few franchises, and have him take the Rubia name into food legend.”
“Oh, good. Julian will get that raise he wants and a career he probably never dreamt of earlier in the game.”
“If he wins the Bay Cook-off, he can write his ticket with me.”
“I hope he’s planning on staying in Tampa most of the time. I’d hate to lose that cheesecake. I’m addicted already.”