by Amanda Usen
“Using what, Jenna? There’s no money.”
“Are you going to listen or are you going to keep taking potshots? I promise I’ll explain everything if you shut up for a second.”
“By all means, but you better make it good, or I’m going to come out there, kill Roman, and drag you back to Lambertville by your too-big britches.”
She snapped. “Get off your high horse, Cole. It’s easy for you to make judgments. You got out of the restaurant business and built yourself a stable little life with your stable little wife. Mom and Dad are ecstatic. They’re so damn proud of you. They made me promise not to tell you what was going on at Cooper’s because they don’t want you to come home to help. Instead, they want to sell, so I’ll get out of the restaurant business, too.” Anger flared hot in her chest, and hurt made her voice tight. She forced words through the tears. “But I love Cooper’s. Running that restaurant is all I’ve ever wanted to do, but no one will give me a chance. If I hear ‘too young to understand’ or ‘it’s a rough business’ one more time, I swear I’m going to explode. I know it’s a rough business. For crying out loud, I grew up in it. I went to culinary school. I’ve worked other places. I know it’s tough. But I want to do it. I want to run a restaurant, no, not just any restaurant. I want to run Cooper’s. And I want my family to give me a chance. Is that so much to ask?”
“Can I talk now?” he asked dryly.
She took a breath. “No.”
If she was getting things off her chest, she was going to unload everything. “My relationship with Roman is none of your business. I’ve had a crush on him since you two walked into the kitchen and stole my oatmeal cream pies. I’m a grown-up. He’s a grown-up. End of story. If you interfere, I’ll make you regret it.”
“He’s a player—”
“I’m counting on that. It would be a shame if he couldn’t deliver the goods after all the time I’ve spent fantasizing about him. I plan to enjoy every inch of his wide range of sexual experience before I come home to Lambertville with a plan for saving Cooper’s.”
Cole groaned.
“Butt out or I’ll start spewing dirty details.”
“Roman will break your heart,” Cole threatened grimly.
“He’s an amazing kisser,” she shot back. “When he touches me, I swear it feels like every muscle in my body—”
“Stop. You win. Just stop. I don’t want to hear any more.”
“And he isn’t going to break my heart. Quit underestimating me. I can fool around without falling in love, and I can come up with a plan for saving Cooper’s without screwing it up.”
“You better. The offer is on the table, and Dad said they’re taking a week to think about it.”
“A week? The bank gave them four months.”
“It’s a good offer. You better have a hell of a plan.”
“I do.” I will. The Beach House review was good and changing the menu and the theme had been her idea. She could do this. She was just going to have to do it faster than she had planned. She heard Cole take a breath, so she cut him off before he could start asking questions. “Don’t talk to Roman about this.”
“No promises.”
“And don’t tell Mom and Dad.”
Cole grunted. “You’ve got one week, sis. Get your ass back to Lambertville and lend a hand. Unless there is no plan, and you used Cooper’s as an excuse to go after Roman?”
“How dare you—” But the shot hit home, and that was as far as she could get before shame closed her throat.
“Typical.” He hung up.
She walked to the Boardwalk and sat on a bench, seething with anger. The beach breeze roared in her ears, punctuated by the loud beat of her heart. After a few minutes, she cooled off enough to be able to think again. Maybe Cole was right. Maybe she had come out here hoping to hook up with Roman. But she’d learned a lot this week, and by the time she went home, she would have a plan. She’d convince her parents not to sell Cooper’s, but first she was going to finish what she started with Roman—at the Beach House and in Las Vegas.
She had one more week to come up with a plan. It would have to be enough.
She stood and began making her way back to the Beach House, wondering how Roman had fared with his mother. No doubt she was livid about the kissing picture in the review making Gallagher Holdings look bad, but there wasn’t anything they could do now. Or was there? Could they spin the review in a positive direction?
An idea took shape in her head, and she paused, chuckling quietly while she sent Cole a text. Don’t believe everything you read on the Internet. You promised me a week, and I’m holding you to it.
She dropped the phone back into her pocket and skipped through the sand, needing an outlet for her excitement. It was a crazy idea, but if it worked, it would mean even better press for the Beach House, and it might just cement a victory for Roman’s mother’s business deal.
She just needed to convince Roman to play along.
…
“What the hell are you doing?” His mother’s voice was sharp.
Roman clamped his teeth shut on a curse as she continued. “It’s bad enough you’ve hung our shingle on a burger shack, but you know better than to get involved with an employee.”
He’d known this call was coming the minute he’d opened the newspaper, but he still flinched. “She’s Cole Cooper’s little sister, Mom. She’s visiting for a couple of weeks, and we’ve been discreet. I have no idea how those pictures were taken. Maybe I have a stalker.” Even as he made the excuses, resentment built inside him. He hadn’t done anything wrong.
“Illegal parties and making out on the beach are not discreet.” Of course she’d made the connection. “If I taught you nothing, I taught you not to sleep where you eat. Respect the people who work for you. How could you do this?”
He kicked the office door shut. “Did you read the review?”
“Of course I did, but I’m not impressed. If you can’t make a good hamburger, you’re not my son.”
Anger crackled inside him, a fierce blaze fueled by years of meeting her challenges only to be given one more failing restaurant to rescue, one more business plan to write, one more hoop to jump through. He’d had enough. “And if I kiss my pastry chef, I’m not your son, either, right? What’s next? If the billionaire doesn’t eat my dessert and sign on the dotted line in Vegas, you’re not going to let me run Gallagher Holdings? I’m beginning to think you don’t want to retire.”
“Not when you’re behaving like a lunatic. Honestly, Roman, you need a goddamn keeper.”
“If I were behaving like a lunatic, the review would have been bad. The Beach House may be a burger shack, but it’s the best one on the beach. Why don’t you come down and check it out before you decide I’ve lost my mind?”
“I can’t…I’m in Napa looking at properties with Jeff.”
“Jeff?”
“Jefferson. Morgan. The financier?”
“So it’s Jeff now? And traveling with him?” His mother’s silence spoke volumes and everything clicked into place. Anger blazed through him. “How dare you call me to task when you’ve been cozying up to Jeff for weeks? Pot. Kettle. Let me guess—my reprehensible behavior is forcing you to take drastic measures. Don’t use me as an excuse to screw your backer.”
“Watch your mouth.” Again, she cracked the whip, but he wasn’t going to step in line this time.
“Gotta go. I know a few out-of-context pictures are worth more than the eighty hours I’ve put in this week, but I still have to work tonight. Hopefully, I won’t be too busy to make the dessert for you and your rich boyfriend to enjoy in Las Vegas.” He ended the call and tossed his phone on the desk.
Anger burned out and exhaustion settled over him as every double he’d worked this week caught up with him. Spending his nights baking had probably been a mistake, but that had been the best part.
He closed his eyes, leaning back in the chair. It was never going to be enough. Jenna was right. He could
work the rest of his life, and his mother would never quit. He felt an ocean of emptiness open inside him, spanning his entire life.
A soft knock sounded on the door. “Come in.” He didn’t have the energy to raise his voice, but the door opened, and Jenna slipped into the office. She shut the door behind her.
“You okay?” she asked.
His phone began to ring again. He silenced it without checking the display. “I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine. You look like your dog died.”
“I’ve never had a dog,” he said tiredly. “I move around too much. I work all the time. Always wanted one, though.”
“Can I get you a drink? A sandwich? Some coffee? A shotgun, so we can go after the Times reporter?”
A small noise, not quite a sigh or a laugh, escaped his throat. “You saw it?”
She nodded. “You mad?”
He thought about that for a minute. “Not for any reason that makes sense.”
Don’t sleep where you eat. The rule had become an inviolate credo in every one of their restaurants. There was enough drama in the kitchen without throwing sex into the mix, but he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d missed out. Maybe he wouldn’t feel so alone if he had someone special who shared his interests, instead of a past filled with meaningless celebrity conquests who were good for Gallagher Holdings’ image but did nothing for his heart. He’d never have known the difference if Jenna hadn’t come along.
Jenna wasn’t really an employee, so technically he hadn’t exactly broken the rule. She was more of a friend who happened to be working at the Beach House right now. She’d become part of the gang, and her limitless energy inspired him. He couldn’t have pulled the place together so fast without her.
“I think what I need is a hug.” He tugged her into his lap. She settled against him, pressing her lips against his throat. He wrapped his arms around her, gathering her close, instantly comforted. “Your brother is going to kill me if he sees those pictures,” he mused.
She giggled. “He already has.”
It took a second for the meaning to sink in, and then he jerked upright, almost knocking her out of his lap. “What?”
“While you were in the office yelling at your mom, I was on the beach yelling at Cole.”
He grabbed his phone. He’d assumed that last call was his mother, but sure enough, it had been Cole. There was a text, too. You break her heart, I break your face.
He held up the phone, and she laughed. “Relax. I’m not offering you my heart. You’re safe from big brother, but it’s time to take the gloves off. My parents got an offer for Cooper’s, and I have a week to convince them my plan is a better option.”
He blinked. “Do you have a plan yet?” Lord knew he’d barely thought about Cooper’s with the furor at the Beach House. Now he felt doubly guilty. He was supposed to be helping her.
She shook her head. “Not yet, but I will. First we have to spin the Beach House review into publicity gold and blow everybody’s mind in Vegas.”
“How do you propose we do that?”
“By getting married.”
Shock blasted though his guilt. “Have you lost your mind?”
She shook her head. “If we announce our fake engagement at the beach party tonight, it will create even better buzz. Think about it. It’s a perfect cover. Anyone who is following your…indiscretions will be silenced.”
“You are off your rocker. No one will believe it.”
“Then we’ll make them believe it,” she insisted. “We’re halfway there already, according to the newspaper, holding hands, kissing on the beach. Is it so bizarre to think wild and crazy Roman Gallagher might finally settle down with a nice girl from Lambertville, New Jersey?” She batted her eyes, the picture of innocence. “We’ll get more press, but it will be the good kind, chockfull of family values. I bet it will help your mom seal the deal with the billionaire, too.”
Maybe she already has. “My mother is on her own.”
Her brow furrowed. “Since when?”
“Since five minutes ago when she declared I need a fucking keeper.”
Her eyes sparkled with mirth. “That brings to mind all sorts of interesting mental pictures involving you and a very short leash. Are you good at taking orders? We could work that into our imaginary prenuptial agreement.”
“I’m a chef. Filling orders is my life.” He sighed. “Is there something you want? Just add it to the list.”
“You know what I want.” Her smile challenged him.
He shook his head. “You don’t have to pretend to marry me to get that. Why do you want to do this?”
“Because what you want is important to me, too, and you want your mother to bag the billionaire. If this doesn’t help clean up your image, nothing will.” She pulled him down for a long kiss. Her lips were sweet, soothing the rough edges of bitter disappointment inside him. There was no way to avoid speculation about his relationship with Jenna now, and it would be worse in Vegas since they were traveling together. Her idea was nutty, but it just might do the trick.
“What the hell,” he said, breaking their kiss. “Jenna Cooper, will you marry me?” As the words left his mouth, his heart skipped a beat.
She blinked, looking surprised, and then she chuckled. “That was easy. Why yes, I will. Nothing would make me happier than being your fake fiancée.” She didn’t have to stress the word for him to know she didn’t consider him true marriage material. She’d made that abundantly clear, and now Roman knew why it hurt. Max was barking up the wrong tree if he thought Jenna was the one who was going to get her heart broken. So was Roman. Jenna’s words came back to him. Is it so bizarre to think wild and crazy Roman Gallagher might finally settle down with a nice girl from Lambertville, New Jersey?
I should be so lucky.
The thought came out of nowhere and made him frown. They were having fun, pure and simple. Anything more was impossible. So why did the idea make him feel so damn good?
He cleared his throat. “What should we tell your family? I don’t want Cole coming out here to break my face.”
“The truth, of course—I’m pretending to be your fiancée to help you clean up your image. What are you going to tell your mother?”
“Not a goddamn thing.” It was always work first with her, and it was time to stop expecting anything else.
Jenna squeezed his hand. “Let’s spin the hell out of this crazy story. We’ll strike while the iron is hot. When I go back home, you can return to your philandering ways, claiming a broken heart. I bet you’ll get awesome sympathy press.”
He covered his wince with a smile, but it must not have been very convincing because she patted his cheek. “Poor, poor, Roman. Is it that hard to give up your bachelorhood, even fictitiously?”
He shook his head. Not even close, but he’d be damned if he’d tell her what was really going through his mind. She didn’t want forever with him, and that was a good thing. He wasn’t the right guy for her. She deserved her happy little househusband.
“Excellent.” She stood and pulled him to his feet. “How’s your credit limit?”
“No money problems. Why?”
Her smile was filled with glee as she held up her left hand. “Because you’re going to have to put a ring on it before the party tonight. You are now my adoring fiancé, and I expect to see some doting, starting now. The jewelry store staff won’t be fooled by anything less than twenty-four carat true love and devotion. Show me your puppy dog eyes.”
That wasn’t going to be a problem. He gazed into her warm brown eyes and smiled grimly. She frowned. “You’re going to have to do better than that. Think wedding, not funeral.”
“I can do that.” But could she? Would she be willing to consider having more than a fake relationship with him?
How could he convince her to give them a chance?
Wait. Why was he contemplating it? She’d never give up her dream of revitalizing Cooper’s, and he was tied to Gallagher Holdings. He w
orked all the time which is why long relationships weren’t his thing. Never had been. Couldn’t be.
But Jenna…was different. He reached out to smooth the tiny lines from between her eyes. He traced his index finger down the tip of her nose then brushed the back of his hand against her cheek. She drifted closer to him, settling her arms around his waist, and lifting her mouth for a kiss. His lips moved over hers, perfecting their connection as he pondered how to proceed. According to Max, he’d accidentally gotten off to a great start by pretending to be a gentleman. Hope stirred inside him. What should come next? Flowers? Chocolate?
He lifted his head. “Maybe we should continue this at the jewelry store.”
A gold gleam flashed in her eyes. “We’d get arrested.”
He laughed and opened the door. Despite what he’d said on the phone, there was nothing left to do for the party tonight, and Max had the line under control.
Jenna followed him out of the office. “It’s better if we go together, right? That way no one will think you’re cheap when we pick out something economical.”
He glanced back at her, but she didn’t seem aware of the humor. He was going to buy her a diamond ring. Economical didn’t figure into the picture. Luckily, he could afford it, and he was going to play his role to the hilt.
…
“Jesus Christ.” She couldn’t stop staring at it.
The ring was beyond beautiful, a three-carat, emerald-cut, blue diamond solitaire that reminded her of the ocean and Roman’s eyes. She had expected to hit one of the jewelry stores at the mall, but he’d taken her to a small boutique on Abbot Kinney Boulevard. There hadn’t been any price tags in the store, and she hadn’t asked. Did it matter? He’d be returning it in a few weeks, and he’d smiled when he signed the credit card slip, joking about adding baguettes to the setting when they had children. She’d played along, but the idea had taken root somewhere deep and now she was hiding in the office, sweating and swearing because she couldn’t get the idea of a future with Roman out of her head.
She snatched her phone out of her pocket and texted Betsy. OMG. I think I’m in love with Roman. She didn’t text Lila. Last night, Chef Jackson Calabrese shattered Lila’s heart right after their joint restaurant project had opened to rave reviews. As much as Jenna needed another reality check about the pitfalls of falling in love with a playboy chef, she didn’t want to be cruel.