by Mona Ingram
“And for you, Mr. Cooper?”
“Glenfiddich, please. No ice.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
Lexie leaned into him. “Mr. Cooper. I’m impressed.”
Jesse gave a non-committal shrug. “I had to make a reservation.”
“Of course. I sometimes forget about all this front-of-the-house stuff.”
Jesse turned her hand over and described little circles on her palm. “Now, what were you saying about being nervous?”
Lexie was glad she was sitting down. She drew her hand away with an apologetic smile. “I can’t think when you do that.”
“I’ll remember that.” He looked into her eyes. “You were saying?”
“I keep expecting to see Chris.” She ducked her head. “Call me a wimp, but I hate conflict.”
Jesse looked around the room, his gaze lingering on each staff member. “Not a problem,” he said firmly.
“What do you mean?”
He sat back as their drinks were delivered and didn’t speak again until Joel had left. “Chris has been let go. Fired.”
“Are you serious?”
He nodded and took a sip of his Scotch. “Nectar,” he said.
“But how?”
“In the usual way, I suppose. Something along the lines of ‘your services are no longer required’.”
“Come on, Jesse.” When he didn’t respond, she pulled back and looked at him. “You’re not kidding, are you?”
“Not about this,” he said, his tone deadly serious. “Okay, I have a confession of my own. When you first told me about the guy, I mentioned it to a friend of mine who’s in the know. I was speaking to him again today about something else and he told me that Chris had been fired.” He leaned closer. “Don’t tell me you feel sorry for him.”
“Not at all.” She reached for her wine. “I’m just surprised, is all.”
He watched her with interest. “Let me tell you a little story. There’s a well-known businessman here in town with an interesting way of letting people go. He gives them a pat on the back, a firm handshake, and tells them he’s giving them a chance to pursue a different career path.”
“At the end of the day, they’re still fired.”
Jesse met her gaze unflinchingly. “And most of them deserve to be.”
Lexie took a sip of wine. “Let’s talk about something else.”
“Fair enough. You know, I had a feeling you’d order white wine.”
She ran her fingers up and down the stem of her wine glass. “Are you saying I’m predictable?”
“No. Well, maybe.” He stilled her hand with a touch. “Why don’t you tell me something surprising about yourself. Something I’d never guess.”
She thought for a few moments. “I can’t think of anything. What about you?”
Chapter Thirteen
“I’M AFRAID OF HEIGHTS,” Jesse said promptly.
“You’re making that up.”
Jesse shook his head. “I wish I was.” He swirled the amber liquid in his glass, lost in thought. “It started when my Dad took me hiking in Strathcona Park. He always had climbing equipment in the truck with him, and one day he suggested that we do what he called a beginner’s climb.” He shuddered. “I should have known better, because I was always a little nervous in high places, but I wanted to make him proud. He hadn’t planned our route very well, and I got stuck part way up. To make a long story short, I had to be airlifted down. I heard the rescue guys talking among themselves that the climb wasn’t suitable for a novice, but it was still the most humiliating day of my life.”
“So your Dad taught you how to fly instead.”
He gave her an odd look. “No, that was the end of our bonding. We’re not estranged or anything, but we don’t see that much of each other.”
“Does he live here in Victoria?”
Jesse gave a short, dry laugh. “He lives on the ocean most of the time. He makes his living crewing for yacht races.”
“You can make a living doing that?”
“Experienced sailors can. The owners of these boats have deep pockets.”
“I suppose so.” She studied her wine. “So are you afraid now... when you fly?”
“Fortunately not.” He relaxed against the banquette. “I can’t think of anything else I’d rather be doing.” His gaze lingered on her face and dropped to her lips. “Almost anything else.”
“Excuse me, Mr. Cooper, Miss Swinton. Your table is ready.”
They studied the menu and every once in a while Jesse asked a question about a dish, but Lexie found herself wishing she could have a hamburger and some home-style mac and cheese. A few months ago, she’d offered gourmet lobster mac and cheese on special here at the Bistro, but in spite of the popularity of the dish, Chris had claimed it didn’t fit in with their other offerings. Looking back now, there had been a lot of similar clashes. Perhaps if she’d stood up to him more, she wouldn’t be here now – a customer in the restaurant where she used to be chef.
“Hello Lexie. I heard you were out here.” Sandy, her former sous-chef bent at the waist. “Mr. Cooper,” he said, with a slight inclination of his head. “I came to welcome you and see if you have any questions.”
“Thanks, Sandy. How is everything going?” She gestured to Jesse. “I’m sorry. Sandoval Garcia, this is Jesse Cooper, a friend of mind.”
Lexie caught a flare of interest in Sandy’s eyes. Not surprising, she supposed, as none of the staff had ever seen her on a formal date. “Are you ‘Chef’ now?”
“Nothing is official yet, but I’m filling in.” He studied her for a moment, then lowered his voice. “I can see you’re well. You left so quickly, we all worried that perhaps you were sick.”
“I’m doing very well, thanks.” Lexie looked around the dimly lit restaurant and wondered why she’d ever allowed a job to control her life. “As a matter of fact, I’m better than I’ve been for a long time.” She looked across at Jesse, who was sipping his scotch and watching the interaction. “I’ve been working at a diner up-island at Arbutus Cove.”
Sandy recoiled. “A diner?”
Lexie enjoyed his reaction. “Yes,” she said. “And I’m loving it. We serve real food to real people. We have a fabulous view over the water. In a week or so, we’ll have an outside deck and I plan to buy some hummingbird feeders. The area seems to attract them.”
“It sounds...” Sandy groped for words. “Interesting.”
Lexie laughed, and was aware of several diners turning in their direction. “That’s the way a woman describes her friend’s dress when she hates it. But it is interesting” she said, moderating her tone. “Drive up someday, and I’ll make you a hamburger.”
“Does that mean you’re not coming back?” His tone was curious and hopeful at the same time.
Lexie glanced across the table at Jesse. “I have a couple more days to make up my mind, but it’s looking like I’ll stay.”
“Well, good luck to you.” He glanced back toward the kitchen. “I’d better get back to work. Let me know if I can do anything for you while you’re here.”
Jesse leaned forward and feathered his fingertips over the back of her hand. “That’s the best news I’ve had this week.” He pulled back and held up both hands. “I know you haven’t formally accepted, but a guy can hope, can’t he?”
Lexie smiled. “It’s good to feel wanted.” She waved a hand in front of her face. “I mean professionally.”
“I know what you meant.” His voice turned husky. “And I want you as well. Both professionally and personally.”
“Jesse...” She warned him with a stern look.
“What’s the matter with that? I thought we agreed we’re adults.”
“You were the one who said that. I don’t recall agreeing.”
“Okay, let’s change the subject. Would you come back here if they offered you the job, and met all your demands?”
“Wow.” She turned the question around in her mind, examining it from all
sides. “I hadn’t thought about that. But right off the top of my head, I think my answer would be no. I wasn’t kidding when I said I’m happy these days.”
“What you said was that you were loving it.” Jesse held her gaze.
Lexie felt the blush rise into her cheeks but she ignored it. “All right, I’m loving it.” She ran her finger around the rim of her wine glass. “Maybe it’s my time.”
One raised eyebrow was his reply.
“I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’ve worked now for just shy of five years and I’ve been fairly successful.”
Jesse nodded.
“So maybe it’s my time to start giving back. Perhaps not on the same scale as what you and Larry are proposing, but I’d like to do my bit.” She looked slowly around the restaurant. “This was great while it lasted, but it’s time to move on. I’ve had more pleasure out of showing Brandon how to make fries, and teaching Carly how to make pastry than anything I’ve done for the past couple of years.” She paused for a moment, thankful that Jesse remained silent, allowing her space for her thoughts. “Not to mention cooking for Larry and his crew. They dig into the food with real appreciation.”
Jesse nodded. “They’ve mentioned the food more than once.”
“It’s almost metaphorical,” Lexie said, speaking softly to herself. “Going from the darkness of this restaurant to the light of the diner.” She blinked, as though she’d been away somewhere, and focused on Jesse. “You realize, of course, that we’re going to be swamped with customers when they discover that outside patio.”
“I think you told me that once before.”
She shot him a quick look. “Yeah, I did, didn’t I? Well, it’s true.”
The smell of sizzling garlic reached them seconds before their server. “Your appetizers.” He placed fragrant dishes before them. “Careful, the plates are hot.”
“Thank you.” Lexie and Jesse spoke at the same time and the server left.
“Predictable, but I don’t care.” Jesse dunked French bread into the melted butter surrounding the escargots. “Did you know this is one of the few restaurants in town you can get simple escargots like this? They’re serving them in cream sauce or some such abomination.” He popped one into his mouth and closed his eyes.
Lexie forced herself to look away. The expression on his face was one of pure unadulterated pleasure, and she experienced a raw, visceral response deep in her gut. She’d never known a man who was so open with his feelings; a man who didn’t play games. What would it be like to make love with this man? She only had to look at him across the table to feel his raw male appeal... an appeal she was tired of resisting.
“I thought of something,” she blurted, eager to change the subject.
He took his time opening his eyes and focusing on her. A slow, sensual grin started at the corner of his mouth and worked its way up to his eyes, and for a moment she had the strangest feeling that he could read her most intimate thoughts.
“What’s that?” he asked, but didn’t give her time to respond. Instead, he reached across the table, speared one of her escargots and raised it to her lips. She opened automatically, while his gaze held her transfixed. “Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?” he murmured, his voice like liquid velvet. “No, I don’t think you do.”
Lexie swallowed, and licked a drop of butter from her bottom lip. Jesse groaned and sat back. “That’s what I get for interrupting,” he said apologetically. But from the look on his face, he wasn’t at all sorry. “What were you saying?”
“We were supposed to think of something surprising about ourselves.”
He gestured for her to continue.
“I can play the violin.”
He paused in the act of spearing another escargot. “Really? Now that does surprise me.”
Lexie couldn’t hide her smug smile. “See? I’m not so hopeless after all.”
“Hold on there.” Something akin to anger sparked in his eyes. “On your worst day you couldn’t be hopeless.”
“Really?” His words were like sunshine after a month of rain. She hated the childish need for validation, but she’d take it. Except that she’d rather not talk about that.
He seemed to sense her reticence, and a curious smile replaced the anger that had surfaced so briefly. “So,” he said. “A violin-playing chef. Now that’s an unusual combination.” He pushed the remaining escargots aside and leaned forward. “Tell me.”
She studied him across the table. Was she really going to tell this man something she’d never told anyone else? The answer was a resounding yes.
“When I was nine, my parents bought me a violin, and arranged lessons. Nowadays they start children at a much younger age, but this is my story and that’s the way it was. Anyway, in the back of my young mind I reasoned that the lessons would go on for a year or so until they discovered that I wasn’t interested, or talented, or both, and that would be the end of it.” She started to rip a chunk of bread into tiny pieces. “Then when I was ten, my mother presented me with a violin from a famous French maker, and I knew my life was about to change.”
“What happened?”
She gave a short, dry laugh. “That was the beginning of five years of hell. I hated every moment of it, but she was determined that I was going to become at least good enough to play with a symphony somewhere.”
Jesse shook his head. “I don’t get it. Where did this compulsion come from? Was your mother a frustrated violin player herself?”
Lexie allowed her gaze to sweep over the other diners, then forced herself to turn back to him. “My mother is Anastasia Swinton.”
Jesse stilled. “Anastasia Swinton. The opera singer?”
“Yes.”
“Good Lord.” He picked up his glass and drained the last few drops. “I didn’t make the connection, even though I know your name is Swinton.”
“Nobody does,” she said softly. “A fact for which I’m grateful.”
“So then what happened?” The compassion in his eyes almost brought her to tears. “I gather that Mummy isn’t the warm fuzzy type.”
Sharing the memories with Jesse wasn’t as hard as she’d imagined it might be, and she found herself telling him of the long, painful months while her parents were gone, only to face her mother’s disappointment on her return.
“I started spending time in the kitchen.” She looked into the distance as she recalled those days. “Cook was good to me, and allowed me to watch while she was baking. Like most kids, I started by decorating cookies. Eventually I graduated to making cupcakes, and tarts. I recall making lemon tarts for my mom, and she actually ate one! I was so proud that day.”
“Where was your Dad in all this?”
“Oh, he was there. Now that I’m a bit older, I can see that she completely dominated him... at least at home. He’s a production designer, and works closely with my mother on her appearances. He hires out to do other productions as well, but he sets his schedule around hers.”
“And Switzerland?” Jesse looked up as their server brought their main courses, but ignored his food. “How did you manage to break free to attend culinary school?”
“Unbeknownst to me, my mother had set a time limit for me to become a virtuoso. One day she simply announced that I didn’t have to take lessons any longer. I suspect that my instructor had something to do with her decision as well.”
“You must have been ecstatic.”
Lexie grinned. “You have no idea.” She looked down at her food, then back up at Jesse. “Thank you for listening. I’ve never told anyone that before.”
“Then I’m doubly flattered.” He cut into his steak. “I don’t remember ordering this, but it looks good.” He took a few bites. “What’s it like, living with famous parents?”
“I’m not sure. They’d come home, and the whole household would revolve around them, then poof! They’d be gone.” Her tone softened. “But there were those happy years when we’d go to the cottage in Ontario. I treasure ever
y memory I have of those times.”
“Which is why you like the cabin so much. Up at Arbutus Cove.”
She leaned her elbows on the table, not caring about propriety. “Which is why you need to make memories with Luc now. I’m sure you already know this, but he’ll remember these years for the rest of his life.” She reached into her purse and pulled out the key chain. “This is one of my most prized possessions.” Her eyes glimmered with unshed tears. “He’s such a lovable kid. I can see why you care about him so much.” She picked up her table napkin, dabbed her eyes and spoke brightly. “So tell me about your mother. We’ve covered everything else.”
He gave his head a slow shake. “She left my dad when I was eighteen. Hated the fact that he was gone all the time. Married an American fellow she met at a campground, if you can believe that. Lives in Oklahoma now.”
“Is she happy?”
Jesse thought for a moment. “Yeah, she is.” He met Lexie’s eyes. “And that’s what’s important, I suppose.”
“It’s everything” she sighed, and for the first time Lexie allowed herself to dream of a future with this man.
THEY LINGERED OVER coffee, discussing ways they could help the youth of Arbutus Cove. Lexie was surprised to learn that Jesse had contacted the family of Sean, the diner’s former cook.
“They’d been worried about him for some time and were about to stage an intervention, but he surprised them. He went to his first AA meeting a couple of days after he left the diner, and from where he lives, he’s able to attend a meeting almost every night.” He nudged the glass of Calvados across the table. “Here, try this. I think you’ll like it.”
Lexie took a small sip and was pleasantly surprised. “I like it,” she said. “But what about Sean?”
“I spoke to him this morning and we’re going to get together within a week or two.”
Lexie stiffened. “You’re going to ask him back?”
“No, but I did learn that he’s more than just a short-order cook. He has formal training and worked in a couple of the big hotels in the Rockies. I’m not sure if it was the pressure of working in those situations or his drinking, but he was able to hold himself together for the few years he was at the diner.”