by Brenda Gayle
Karen remained silent after Nora had finished.
“So you see, I really screwed up,” Nora said, trying to fill the empty air.
“Is that how you feel?” Karen asked.
“Like a screw-up? Of course. I’m mortified. Thank God I’ll never have to see him again.”
“That wasn’t the purpose of the evening,” Karen said.
“Yeah, I know. The cooking lesson. Look, Karen, I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but cooking? I mean, I just don’t think it’s in me. Besides, I don’t really have the time. Or anyone to cook for, for that matter.”
“It wasn’t about a cooking lesson,” Karen said. “It was about getting you out and having some fun. It was about getting you away from work and meeting new people. But most of all, it was about having you feel good about yourself.”
Nora stared at her sister. She was speechless.
“Hunter Graham is an extremely attractive man with a reputation for treating women like princesses,” Karen said.
“From what I read, he has a reputation for seducing women.”
“Phew! Surface stuff. I checked him out quite thoroughly before I bid on him at the auction. I interviewed several of his former girlfriends and a couple of the women who work for him. He is a gentleman who genuinely enjoys the company of women and knows how to treat them properly.”
Nora thought back to the previous evening. He had been very complimentary. What did he say about her eyes? Like an elixir of café noir. He hadn’t lost his cool, not once. And not once did he blame her for any of the damage she had caused. He had gone out of his way to try to make sure she’d enjoyed herself.
Why did that make her feel worse?
“So…what? You were trying to set me up on a date? With him?” Nora asked.
“Not a date, really,” Karen said. “But who knows? You might have hit it off.”
“Yeah right. And the Republicans will sweep New Mexico in the next election.”
“Stranger things have happened.” Karen laughed, and then quickly sobered. “I am disappointed, though. I spent a considerable sum of money on last evening and I don’t feel that I got my money’s worth.”
“What was supposed to happen? You didn’t expect him to seduce me, did you?”
“Of course not. But I didn’t expect you to end the evening feeling terrible about yourself.”
“That’s just me. Don’t worry about it. Hunter was a gentleman. He was very kind, despite my disasters.”
“That’s not the point.”
As Karen rose from her chair Nora’s heart sank deeper in her chest. Karen had a determined look about her, as if she had just made a firm decision.
“Karen, please, let it go.”
“Absolutely not.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to pay Mr. Hunter Graham a visit.”
Oh crap!
Chapter 3
Hunter glared at the papers on his desk. He’d hoped that if he ignored them long enough they’d go away. Unfortunately, the pile seemed to grow every day. There were invoices to review, health and safety reports to complete, personnel evaluations to conduct, and taxes to file. He hated this part of owning the restaurant. Life was so much more fun when he only had to cook, and someone else handled the paperwork.
He glanced down at the latest invoice for beef from Rancho Tres Hermanos. Shit. It was no wonder his family was so wealthy.
He was about to sign off on it when he looked closer at the details. The last delivery was made up almost exclusively of the mid-range cuts rather than the high-grade ones Prime specialized in.
That wasn’t right. Who had accepted the shipment?
As soon as he saw the scrawled “Dawson” on the packing slip he knew there was no point calling the kid in. He was a lowly kitchen porter, and had probably simply been told by one of the station chefs to meet the truck.
Hunter braced himself and dialed the ranch. He smiled, relieved it was his cousin Anna who answered the phone.
“Hey there Anna-banana, how are things at the old homestead?”
“Hunter,” she laughed, equally delighted to hear from him. “If you’d come by for a visit once in a while you could see for yourself.”
“Thanks, but I prefer the view from here.”
“Yes, I saw a picture of you and your view in the weekend paper. She’s very attractive, Hunter. How long will this one last?”
“Let’s see, last weekend? That was Shelly. Lovely girl, wants to be an actress. But that Santa Fe-L.A. commute is a killer, so I can’t see anything permanent on the horizon.”
“You’re impossible.”
“That’s why you love me.”
“Unfortunately, I do. So, what’s up? I doubt this is a social call.”
“It’s about the last order you sent. What’s with all the mid-range cuts? Our deal says you’re to provide Prime with only top-of-the-line.”
“Hold on.” He could hear the sound of papers shuffling and then Anna came back on the line. “Here it is. Yeah, your guy signed for it.”
Hunter bit back his impatience. If it had been anyone else he’d think he was being jerked around. But Anna wouldn’t do that to him.
With only two years between them, he and his cousin had grown up as close as siblings—closer than some he knew. They were each other’s only hope for getting what each wanted—for her it was Rancho Tres Hermanos, for him it was escaping responsibility for the family ranch.
“C’mon Anna. The kid who signed was only a kitchen porter. He wouldn’t know if it was loin or chuck. Why would you send me inferior meat? The ranch has as much at stake as Prime—we promote the hell out of your beef.”
“I know, I know. We had a large order come in from the Governor for a fundraising barbeque. Your meat was diverted there. I thought Uncle Ike had spoken to you about substituting the mid-range cuts just this once. When the delivery slip came back signed, I figured everything was okay. I’m sorry, Hunter, I should have called you myself.”
Hunter closed his eyes and began counting very slowly in his head. Damn his uncle—his father, too, because he was certain Ben Graham had known about it.
“So what’s the story, Anna? I know Ike and dad are not one-hundred percent behind the restaurant, but do you think they’re out to sabotage me?”
“I don’t know.” At least she sounded miserable.
“Can you get me another order? Today?”
“Yeah, I think it’s do-able. I’ll have to call in a few favors, but we owe you. What do you want to do with the meat you’ve already got? Do you want us to pick it up when we deliver the new stuff?”
“Nah. I’ll donate it to a couple of soup kitchens,” he said.
“That’s very generous of you. That’s a lot of meat and I’m sure they’ll appreciate it.”
“Don’t nominate me for sainthood yet. I can write some of it off as a charitable donation, and the rest can go toward cementing my image as an upstanding member of Santa Fe society.”
“You shouldn’t be so modest.” He could hear her chuckling over the phone. “You have a good heart, Hunter.”
“Aw shucks, Miz Anna, now you’ve done gone and made me blush.”
“Okay, I’m going now. You take care, cuz. And come by for a visit soon. I miss you.”
Hunter stared at the phone for some time after he hung up. He missed Anna, too. She knew him better than anyone, and she knew how important it was for him to prove himself—away from the family ranch. There were days when he wished he’d stayed in New York where he didn’t have to live up to the Graham name.
He hadn’t been naive when he’d accepted his grandmother’s offer to help him open a restaurant in Santa Fe. He knew that if he came back, he couldn’t offer a Thai-fusion menu or any of the other trendy cuisines that were popular in New York. Nope, it would have to be beef—Rancho Tres Hermanos beef. And most of the time he was okay with that. But every once in a while he sure did miss New York, and the anonymity.
Last night had been funny, he remembered suddenly. Nora Cross hadn’t seemed to register his Graham side at all. That had been kind of nice for a change. Their evening, on the other hand—that had been, well, not so nice. If only she’d been able to turn off from her work and focus on him.
“Excuse me, Hunter?”
Mandy, his tall, willowy hostess stood in the doorway. She wore a skin-tight black halter dress with a plunging neckline that showed off her magnificent cleavage. Her blonde hair was long and curly—not naturally so, Hunter figured, since Anna had assured him that naturally curly hair had a mind of its own and never, ever fell in perfect waves.
Mandy was stunning, and she’d be dynamite in a New York nightclub, but she was far too provocative for his customers in Santa Fe. Hunter knew he should get rid of her. He’d been agonizing over it for weeks. He liked her—not the sleep-with-her kind of like, although he had thought about it and probably would have acted if she hadn’t been his employee.
Maybe he could hire a fashion consultant to help tone down her sexiness? Yes, that was it. He’d look into it.
“Hi Mandy. What’s up?”
“Mrs. Karen Pearce is here to see you.”
“Mrs. Pearce?” Hunter wracked his brain. He was good with names, but he couldn’t remember ever meeting a woman named Pearce. “I don’t think I know her. Did she say what she wants?”
“No, but I think you should see her.”
“Really? And why is that?” He was intrigued.
“Well for one thing, she’s the wife of the new attorney general and has tons of connections. And second, she seems really pissed off with you.”
“That’s an understatement,” said the woman edging past Mandy.
Hunter immediately recognized the attractive brunette in the persimmon-colored dress. The lightweight fabric clung nicely to her trim figure. Her three-inch heels—surprising on a woman her age—showed her calves to good advantage.
Her face was remarkably clear of all but the barest hint of make-up, and he was struck by the deep rich brown of her eyes. They reminded him of Nora’s, although they weren’t quite as dark.
“Of course. Mrs. Pearce from the auction.” Hunter stood and came round the desk to take her hand. “What can I do for you?”
Hunter bristled as she dismissed Mandy with a nod. She took his hand for the briefest of seconds.
“I am here for an explanation, Mr. Graham.”
“Hunter, please.”
“An explanation about last night. I paid good money for my sister to have a fun night out. Instead, she came back dejected and feeling as if she is, in her words, ‘a screw-up.’”
Ah, Nora’s sister. That explained the resemblance. But there was quite a difference in their ages.
“I can assure you Mrs. Pearce...” He waited for her to invite him to use her first name. She didn’t and he continued, “I did nothing to cause your sister to believe she was a screw-up. When Miss Cross arrived, she was obviously dealing with a problem at work—a problem she was having a great deal of difficulty letting go. There were a few mishaps along the way, but all-in-all we had a lovely dinner and she went home.”
“Really?”
Hunter squirmed under her scrutiny. Well, maybe he was whitewashing things a bit. Nora had been a screw-up, but he certainly hadn’t done anything to make her think that. He had done his damnedest to cover for her actions. In the end, though, he knew the evening had been a total disaster.
“Okay, so maybe it wasn’t quite as perfect as we would have liked,” he conceded. “But there was nothing else I could have done. She was distracted, there were some accidents, maybe a fire or two...” He grinned sheepishly, expecting his remorseful little boy routine would work its usual magic.
“This isn’t funny, Mr. Graham.”
He sobered quickly. “No, Mrs. Pearce, it isn’t. I am truly sorry Miss Cross feels badly about last night. Please tell her I think no less of her because of it, and I wish her nothing but the best.”
“Not good enough.”
“Excuse me?”
“I want you to make it up to her. Take her out.”
Hunter was incredulous. “Take her out? You mean like a date?”
“If that’s what you want to call it.”
“But it wasn’t a date to begin with. It was a cooking lesson.”
She raised an eyebrow and waited.
This is insane. Take her out? Is there anywhere safe I can take her? No. It’s out of the question. I’ve done my part.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Pearce, it’s just not possible. I fulfilled my obligation to the charity auction. I’m sorry Miss Cross was unhappy with the evening, but there is really nothing more I can do about it.”
“Frankly I’m surprised, Mr. Graham. I would have thought you’d welcome the opportunity to redeem yourself and preserve your reputation. You wouldn’t want it to get around that you made a young woman terribly unhappy—made her doubt herself. I guess I was wrong about you. That’s so disappointing. I hate to think what my many well-connected and influential friends and acquaintances will do when they—”
“Stop right there.” Dammit, she’s playing me—and it’s working. “All right. I’ll ask her out, but I’ll be very surprised if she agrees. She was the one who ended the evening early.”
“You’ll just have to be very persuasive. I wouldn’t think that would be a problem for you.”
“I’ll do my best,” he said.
“Excellent.” She walked out the door without another word.
What a mess. Still, what else could he do? He couldn’t risk alienating the wife of the attorney general and all her contacts—they were his bread-and-butter customers. Besides, her digs about his reputation hit a nerve. It did bother him that Nora had had a miserable evening, and that it had affected her self-esteem.
It hadn’t all been bad. She was smart and engaging when she gave herself the chance. And she blushes so nicely, he thought, remembering her comment about the vibrating phone. He also remembered the feel of her body when she had landed on top of him. She was soft and curvy, so different from the gym-sculpted torsos he was used to. It was nice.
He didn’t think she’d go for it, though, and he doubted even his powers of persuasion would be enough to overcome last night’s fiasco. What possible reason could he come up with to get Nora to go out with him? And if she wouldn’t go, how could he convince her sister that he’d tried his best?
He was going to roast his dear grandmother for getting him into this mess. This was the last time he’d let the old gal talk him into anything, good cause or not. Her charity may have benefited greatly, but it was his reputation that was now on the line.
Wait a second. That’s it. He smiled broadly, reveling in the divine stroke of genius that had just hit him.
He knew a sure-fire way to guarantee Nora Cross went out with him.
****
Nora had agonized over what to wear, finally deciding on simple black crepe pants with a matching jacket and a white cotton blouse. The look of abject horror on Hunter’s face told her she had made the wrong choice.
“Hell, Nora, it’s cocktails not a board meeting,” he muttered, stalking into her apartment.
She closed the door and turned to stare at him. He was impeccably dressed in a two-button charcoal corduroy sports coat. Underneath he wore a black silk shirt open at the neck. It took a moment for her to realize he also wore jeans and cowboy boots. How did he manage to look so sophisticated and so comfortable at the same time?
She gazed into his face. Despite his criticism, he didn’t look upset. He seemed amused. It appears I amuse him a lot. She reluctantly remembered his reactions to all her screw-ups the last time they’d been together. She wasn’t sure she liked it.
He dwarfed her tiny apartment and his sophistication seemed out of place among her odd, mismatched assortment of rummage-sale finds. As he stepped toward her, she felt claustrophobic and she backed up against the door.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said.
“I didn’t…I mean…” She shrugged and tried to quiet her racing heart as he drew closer. She stared up, focusing on his cheek. It was clean-shaven this evening, the skin so very smooth-looking.
His hand reached out and she held her breath, forcing herself not to move. What is he doing?
She felt a tug on the back of her head as he pulled out the pin that was holding her hair in place. Her thick wavy mane cascaded down around her shoulders.
She heard his breath catch as he stepped back. “Much better,” he murmured and then turned away quickly.
What the hell? Did he have any idea how long it had taken her to get her hair into some kind of order?
“Now, let’s see if we can find you something to wear.” In three broad strides he reached the bedroom door. “Coming?”
This was a nightmare. It was turning out to be just as bad as the last time they were together—maybe worse.
When she entered her bedroom, he had already opened her closet and was systematically examining each and every item in her wardrobe—not that there was much to go through.
“It’s all business stuff,” he said. “Don’t you have anything more casual? Sexy, maybe?”
“Unlike you, Mr. Graham, I don’t have an unlimited clothing budget. I’m required to meet with politicians and business people pretty much daily, so whatever money I do spend on clothes has to go toward making sure I look professional.”
“You can look professional and sexy at the same time.”
“I’m the executive director of a child advocacy association. People have certain expectations.”
“That doesn’t mean you have to dress like an old schoolmarm.” He stopped rifling through her closet and turned to her. “Besides, Nora, I said ‘sexy’ not slutty. Perhaps I should have said more feminine.”
“I’m feminine.”
“We’ll work on it.” He turned back to her closet.
She glared at his back. She’d known this was a bad idea.
Her surprise when he’d called her, was followed by shock when he invited her to a cocktail party. She’d refused, of course. Then he’d told her his grandmother had specifically asked him to bring her—so they could meet.
