by Nunn, Mae
But just last night Hunt had confessed to Gillian’s father that he’d been all talk and no action for far too long. What man worth his salt would continue on that path? And what woman would want him on those terms?
Hunt tucked his cell into the case clipped to his belt, grabbed his keys and headed for the Jeep.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
IT WAS WELL after midnight when Hunt pulled onto the road that led up to the mansion. An inviting glow was still visible from several windows on the main floor as he pulled into his usual spot. Pap’s place shone brightly, a beacon on the hilltop. Hunt took a moment to admire the repairs to the exterior stucco finish and the new coat of paint that reminded him of fresh cream. He’d have kept the original white, and he’d have been wrong.
Moore House was lovely, just like her mistress.
The terrace doors swept open and a black phantom moved swiftly across the tiles, bearing down on him, a stalker on its prey.
“Cooper, stay,” Gillian called softly.
The shadow stilled and a pink tongue drooped from between gleaming white teeth.
“Hey, buddy,” Hunt spoke, hoping the dog would find his voice familiar. Cooper bounded forward to accept scratches behind his soft ears. “Are you up this late all alone?”
“This sweet boy’s been keeping me company.”
“Burning the midnight oil, huh?”
“As usual. Come on inside. It’s too cold to stand out here for long.”
“Yep, it’s fall in East Texas.” He followed Gillian through the French doors with Cooper close behind. Hunt paused to secure the lock and when he turned around, he stepped into a warm hug.
* * *
GILLIAN WRAPPED HER arms around Hunt and tilted her face up to his, determined to show him her heart before it was too late. He seemed hesitant, but returned the unexpected embrace.
“Whoa, this is a cozy welcome even for such a chilly night.”
His voice was different. Maybe it was already too late.
“How did things go today?” he asked.
“You first.”
Hunt let his arms slip away, took Gillian by the hand and pulled her toward the kitchen. “Let’s see the new work while we talk.”
The room was ablaze from the recently installed overhead lights. It was exactly what he’d requested, and Gillian agreed it was perfect for a professional kitchen staff.
“This certainly explains the glow I saw from the highway when I entered the property. Nice.” He walked around the spacious kitchen, his head tipped back to appreciate the new fixtures. “I wondered if you’d downgrade what I’d put on the requisition.”
“Why would I buy less than what you requested?” A state-of-the-art kitchen was important to Gillian, and she’d assumed Hunt felt the same.
“Oh, just to shave some cost,” he explained. “I certainly understand any decisions you have to make to come in under budget on the project as a whole. It’s not as if the kitchen should take priority over the guest rooms.”
He hadn’t seemed concerned before now, and this change of heart was unsettling. Had he been needlessly driving up her costs with pricey items, or did the quality of the surroundings not matter any longer because he didn’t plan to stick around? She led him to the walk-in cooler and pulled the heavy door wide.
“Did you expect me to downgrade here, as well?”
“Wow!” His mouth gaped open like a child seeing his first carousel. “You got the Big Mac Daddy?”
“Hunt, this is what you said we should have,” she reminded him.
“In the restaurant business, the equipment we should have and the equipment we can afford aren’t always one and the same.” He tested the strength of the racks that lined one wall, smiling at the quality of the materials. “This is first class all the way, Gillian.”
“I repeat, what made you think I’d purchase anything else?”
He stopped ogling the equipment, closed the door and turned his attention to her.
“I can’t speak for the hotel industry, but let me share the cold hard facts about fine dining.” He took her hand and pulled her close. Gillian shivered as he slid his arms around her waist. “Is this okay? I don’t want to get into trouble with the human resources department.”
She nodded and smiled, giving him approval to continue.
“Eighty percent of new restaurants go belly-up in the first five years. That failure rate is one hundred percent of the reason I haven’t gone out on my own before now. If I had the funds, which I don’t, I’d buy everything secondhand and cut corners wherever possible, so I could invest my money in the food and the service. Focusing on what I put on the plate and how well I care for my diners would hopefully allow me to stay in business against the odds.”
“Hunt, the rest of our new appliances are being loaded on a transport truck as we speak. Isn’t it a little late to be sharing this financial wisdom with me?”
“You never asked for my guidance on how to spend your money. In fact, you’ve cautioned me on more than one occasion about sharing my unbidden point of view on any subject. Besides, as I just said, I don’t know squat about owning a boutique hotel and you do, so I figured your opinion was best.”
“You figured right,” she said, determined to sound confident. “I did my homework. I visited places that gave me complete access, probably the sort they gave you at that restaurant today. I have journals full of notes on everything from the thread count of the sheets to the brand of coffee they serve to the paper quality of the comment cards they mail to guests. I studied customer feedback and rankings and, yes, I’m aware of the failure rate for the industry. I’ve accepted that there is no sure thing, no guarantee. But there’s timing, creativity, hard work and prayer, and I have all that in spades.”
“That, pretty lady, is true.” His arms tightened as he pulled her closer. She felt the warmth of his breath in her hair. “I didn’t mean to cast doubt on your professional progress, just to explain away my lack of the same.”
This time Gillian was the one to ease free of the embrace. She’d worried all day, and now she had to hear the worst. “Well, you must have made some progress today, so tell me about it.”
“Is there anything to drink in there?” He nodded toward an insulated cooler Gillian kept stocked for the construction crews.
She raised the lid, reached into the melting ice and retrieved a bottle of blue energy drink. “It’s still cold.”
He took the container, twisted off the cap and drank deeply of the funky-tasting stuff the workers seemed to love.
“Aah,” he exhaled. “My daddy would say, ‘Better than beer and almost as good as whiskey.’”
“You must have been doing a lot of negotiating to be so parched.”
A happy grin spread across his handsome face as he began to share with her his experience at the Manhattan restaurant where he’d spent the day.
“The business model is a proven success in New York, Chicago and Atlanta. Rudy wants to open three more stores this year, and he said I could take my pick of Austin, Denver or San Francisco.”
An odd sensation thundered beneath her ribs. She wasn’t sure if her heart was racing or shutting down. Either way it was scary. And it hurt.
“All three of those are great cities, so it’ll be hard for you to choose.” She worked at projecting a calm she didn’t possess.
“I haven’t decided if I’ll take the offer, but it’s a nice one to have on the table, since this place will be up and running before you know it.”
How was she going to confess that she hadn’t corrected her parents’ mistaken impression that Hunt was staying on indefinitely? When her father had mentioned it, she’d steered the conversation away from Hunt’s contract, hoping against hope that he would decide to hang around Kilgore a while longer.
“
When do you expect the folks you hired in Virginia to start making the move?”
“My events planner has been working remotely, setting up a hush-hush wedding and reception for December. She says she might have to stay in D.C. if she can’t lease her home, but we can work around that situation. But my manager of housekeeping should be down later this week to search for a home and start interviewing for her staff.”
“I should get busy doing the same thing, especially if you believe a big deal is in the works. I’ll make sure we get off on the right foot before I seriously consider Rudy’s offer.”
“You’re going to accept it, aren’t you?” Her voice quivered.
She lowered her eyes to avoid Hunt’s, but he brushed his knuckle beneath her chin, lifting her gaze to meet his. She saw his answer before he spoke the words.
“Gillian, it’s what I do for a living, and it’s what I love. I have to consider my long-term finances, and you can’t afford to keep me on indefinitely.”
“I’ll be the one to decide what I can and can’t afford. You said yourself that once word gets out, our restaurant will be the venue where everyone wants to book parties and special events. Your name and reputation is already part of my marketing plan.” It wasn’t yet, but she’d go in that direction if Hunt stayed around.
“How’s that?”
“The deal that’s in the works for December was sold with you as the secret weapon.” Not true, but what could it hurt to stroke his ego a bit? “An East Coast celebrity couple wants to reserve Moore House exclusively for three weeks, so they can have privacy for their wedding. The price is steep, and the promise of the Cowboy Chef is the reason they’re about to sign the deposit check.”
“You make me feel so cheap,” he teased.
“Trust me, there’s nothing cheap about this booking, and it’s the perfect vehicle to get Moore House in the press. Once the media gets wind that this couple has said their vows in an exclusive little hotel in East Texas, there will be national coverage on every network.”
“I’m intrigued. I guess I’d better start planning a special wedding menu and contracting a bakery for the cake.”
“Exactly. Set all thought of running a steak house on the back burner for now, please. It’s critical for my executive chef to put his kitchen in order and pull out all the stops for an event that will rock the Big Rich of the Texas social scene.”
“I’ll start tomorrow,” he agreed. “We’ll put on a wedding worthy of the bravado that built Temple Territory.”
Gillian didn’t react to the name or try to correct him. Instead she breathed an inward sigh of relief to have Hunt on board, at least for the short term.
CHAPTER TWELVE
GILLIAN HADN’T EXAGGERATED about the social status of the couple who would be married at Moore House in a few weeks’ time. The aging but still stunning runway model and her former bad-boy rock star had been living together and raising a family in the public eye for as long as Hunt could remember. The fact that they were finally going to tie the knot would be huge news in the entertainment business.
The arrival of Gilly’s parents hadn’t been part of her plan, but they’d been a godsend. While Gillian and Hunt put their heads together around the myriad of details for the event, James dogged the renovation crews, as she’d warned he would, and Meredith took point on decorating the guest rooms. She loved the rustic theme that Gillian had used in a pinch, and the women had decided to carry it throughout the other ten suites upstairs.
“Bless your Pap for having the foresight to build bathrooms en suite,” Gillian commented as they toured the rooms and admired the updated plumbing fixtures.
Hunt laughed at the memory of a story his father had shared years before. “Pap took Dad to the old home place once. It was way out in the Piney Woods where there is no such thing as indoor plumbing. Pap grew up having to walk about fifty yards to use the outhouse in every possible kind of weather. He swore it would be different when he had his own home, and he made good on that oath.”
“How nice for me that your grandfather was scarred for life by his childhood experience!”
“I never fully appreciated that story until just now,” Hunt admitted as he passed his hand through a motion sensor that triggered the flushing mechanism.
“So may I use the outhouse story in the history-of-the-mansion brochure?”
“Brochure?”
She smiled shyly, as if she had a surprise up her sleeve.
Not so long ago Gillian had been clear that what Hunt had to share might be worth considering but wouldn’t necessarily sway her decisions. But these days his input seemed to matter. The realization warmed him against the chill in the house. To hold down preopening utility costs, they kept the thermostat low upstairs.
“I’ve been making notes of all the details you’ve shared with me about the property, and I’ve organized them into a storybook of sorts. It’s amateurish at the moment, and I want to see a prototype before I decide whether or not to continue, but it might be a nice take-away for guests.”
She definitely had his attention as they made their way to the next suite. He couldn’t help but appreciate the fit of her wool slacks as he followed close behind.
“It sounds intriguing.” He made an effort to keep his mind on the conversation.
“So, may I use the outhouse story?”
“Be my guest. Nothing I’ve shared is a family secret. In fact, all the Temple skeletons rattled out of the closet before I was born, so I’ll be interested to see what you consider interesting enough to put into print.”
“I’m glad you don’t object to me using some of your anecdotes.”
He shook his head. “Not at all. But I must admit I’m surprised you want to be so public with the history of the property. You’ve always seemed determined to let Moore House develop its own persona instead of resting on the dubious laurels of Temple Territory.”
“Don’t get a big head over this, but you’ve changed my mind about more than a few things.”
He let his eyes widen and threw his hands up in mock horror. “You don’t mean it. I said something of note and you paid attention?”
She smiled at his joke, the violet of her irises deepening.
“I’m always listening. Even when you’re yammering on about minor things just to distract me from my work. It may not be undivided, but you have my attention.”
“For instance?” he fished.
“For instance...” She pointed toward the large window. “That patch of bent grass on the south lawn that your grandfather planted to impress the snooty golfers who never invited him to the country club.”
“That was a corny little detail that I shared the first week you were here. I’m amazed you even caught the mention.”
“I try to take note of everything that might be useful.”
“Well, take note of this.”
Hunt scooped Gillian close and captured her mouth. Any concern he might have had that she’d resist melted as she leaned into his body, returning his ardor. He savored the long, slow kiss he’d been imagining for weeks.
“Smooching in an empty guest room has gotten more than one couple suspended from my housekeeping staff,” Meredith interrupted from the open doorway. Cooper’s feet bounded across the wood floor and he poked his nose between them, demanding a group hug.
Gillian responded to her mother’s voice as if she were a teenager caught kissing on the front steps in the dark. She spun around, running one hand through her hair while the other smoothed the front of her tailored blouse.
“You look fine.” Her mother smirked.
“Sorry about that, Mrs. Moore,” Hunt apologized, stroking the insistent dog.
“Sorry about what you were doing, or sorry you got interrupted?”
“Oh, definitely the latter,” he admitted with a
smile.
“You’re both way over the age of consent, and it didn’t appear to me that anybody was in distress, so I suppose I’m the one who should apologize for barging in.”
“Mom, it’s okay. Did you need something?”
The unusual pink fluster in Gillian’s cheeks was charming. Hunt could imagine a dozen more ways he’d enjoy putting the blush there again.
“No, I was just making notes for my trip over to Canton tomorrow.”
“Oh, that’s right. The big trade market is this weekend.” Hunt had meant to suggest he and Gillian make the trip together, but Meredith had the jump on him.
“I’m driving the rental box truck over there and I hope to bring it home full of side tables and accent pieces. I’ve furnished lots of hotel rooms in my day, and this is so much more fun than purchasing mass-produced items from a catalog.”
“Canton is one of the best regional flea markets in the country. If you take cash, you’ll do well.”
“Why don’t you kids come with me?” Meredith slipped her arm around her daughter’s shoulders and gave her a reassuring squeeze. “Gillian, you’ve got impeccable taste, and I could use another pair of eyes. Hunt, your strong arms would be a huge help to haul purchases to the truck. What do you say? The forecast is for perfect weather, and I hear it’s a lovely drive.”
“Mom, there’s so much to get done. I can’t afford a day away.”
“Nonsense. Your father will make any decision that needs to be made, whether he’s asked to or not. And I suspect you haven’t taken a day off in all the weeks you’ve been here. Am I correct?”
He sensed Gillian hesitate.
“Yes, ma’am, you hit that nail right on the head,” Hunt answered for her. “Except for one afternoon ride out to the lake, she hasn’t seen much of the countryside.”