Undercover Cook

by Jeannie Watt

  Perky.

  She hated that word.

  “You look great,” Eden said, transferring the baby to her shoulder, in case Reggie had any ideas about relieving her of her burden.

  “Thanks.” Reggie came around behind her to kiss the top of her daughter’s head. “We won’t be long. I got the payroll done. Don’t let me forget to give you the checks.”

  “They’re on the dining-room table,” Tom said, helping his wife into her coat.

  “How’re things at the kitchen?” Reggie asked as Tom firmly shepherded her to the door.

  “All caught up.” Barely. Eden patted the baby’s back. “You know we’ll call you guys if we get into the juice, and in the meantime you can stop worrying, stay home and enjoy motherhood.”

  Which was exactly what Reggie was doing. She’d promised to take six months off, coming back in May when the wedding season started gearing up, and to everyone’s surprise she’d kept her word.

  The baby hiccupped and Eden wondered what the back of her sweatshirt looked like. Cute as they were, babies seemed to make a full-time career out of emitting fluids.

  “You’re fine,” Reggie said, reading her mind. “See you—” Her words turned into a laugh as Tom propelled her out the door.

  “Later,” he finished before firmly closing it.

  “Just you and me and the menagerie, kid,” Eden said as she crossed the room to the rocker recliner, with the dog and cat trailing close behind. Brioche curled up with her chin on Eden’s shoes and Mims jumped onto the nearby sofa to keep an eye on things.

  For a few minutes Eden simply sat and rocked the baby. It had been a long day. All her days were long, so that wasn’t anything new, but ending it with an unread and unwanted note from Ian was.

  Crap.

  She should have read it. Maybe she’d stop by on her way home and pick it up from the parking lot, see what he had to say.

  Or maybe she should just leave matters alone. She was better off not knowing what he’d written. Then it wouldn’t weigh on her mind. She wouldn’t have to think of how to handle matters.

  But she wouldn’t be prepared, either. And perhaps it was simply a goodbye. If so, she wanted to know that she could stop worrying about him pestering her to give him a second chance.

  Okay…she’d stop and get the note. Even though it was going to ruin her night.

  Eden rubbed Rosemary’s back, drawing in the wonderful fresh baby scent as she cuddled her niece close. Hard to think about anything bad in the world when holding a soft, warm baby. Since it was probably going to be a number of years before she had one of her own, Eden shoved all the rotten Ian-related thoughts out of her mind and focused on what was in the here and now.

  ROSEMARY WAS ASLEEP in Eden’s arms when Reggie and Tom returned home at nine o’clock, and Reggie did indeed look as if she was ready to conk out. Eden gave Tom an I-told-you-so look before she passed the baby to him. He winked at her and in turn handed the baby to Reggie, who barely managed to say, “Thanks so much for sitting,” before she yawned.

  “Same time next week?” Eden asked as Reggie came back out from the baby’s room. Her sister glanced at Tom, who nodded.

  “We may not be going out for a while.”

  Because you’re pregnant and nauseous?

  “Lowell has asked me to help with his restaurant for a month. It’ll pay off a big chunk of the renovation bill for my place.”

  Ah, yes. Lowell, Tom’s best friend in the culinary world. Eden had never quite known what to make of the brash Scot, but he had a solid reputation as a chef and restaurateur. “So…you’re going to France?”

  “For four weeks…while Lowell deals with some personal issues.”

  “Is his wife divorcing him again?” Eden asked.

  Tom simply shook his head and Eden decided not to ask for details.

  “As soon as we get back, I’m coming to work at Tremont,” Reggie said. “Part time. But this seems a good way to finish up my time off.”

  “When do you leave?” Eden would miss her sister. And the baby. But this was a spectacular opportunity. Especially for Tom, who was still trying to reestablish himself in the cooking world after a few missteps the previous year.

  “A week and a half.”

  “Short notice,” Eden commented.

  “Lowell is kind of that way,” her brother-in-law stated.

  Eden had met his giant friend, a mercurial bear of a man, and had to agree. Lowell was impulsive.

  Tom put his arm around Reggie’s shoulders. “Once I open my restaurant, it’ll be damned hard to get away.”

  “You don’t have to explain to me,” Eden said. “I agree that it’s a great opportunity.” Her mouth quirked up at one corner. “But could you maybe leave Rosemary here with me?”

  The couple looked at one another and then back at her.

  Reggie simply shook her head. “Uh…no.”

  Eden left the house smiling, happy for her sister and brother-in-law. The dog and cat would stay with Tom’s former neighbors, Frank and Bernie, who would be able to give them tons more attention than Eden or Justin.

  Life was going well for Reggie, and was the usual blur for Justin. As for her…well, she had an ex who was showing signs of getting out of control, and she was going to do something about it.

  THE ENVELOPE WAS gone. Eden had fully expected to find it right where she’d run over it. What were the chances that some passerby had seen it and picked it up, perhaps hoping there was money inside?

  Or had Ian come back and retrieved it, tire mark and all? That hypothesis was rather satisfying.

  Of course now Eden wanted to read it more than anything. After searching the bushes, in case a gust of wind had blown it out of the lot, she got into her car and headed for her house, two miles away.

  Eden pulled into her driveway and parked. Her house was so small that the garage was the only storage space she had, so that was where Christmas was stored, as well as her seasonal clothing and all the hobbies she’d started and meant to take up again, but hadn’t because she didn’t have the time. Plus, she had all Justin’s sports gear in there. Definitely no room for a car.

  She pulled the keys out of the ignition and was about to get out when the motion-sensor light at the side of the house came on, startling her. Two neighborhood cats, the sensor culprits, came strolling out to the front, their eyes reflecting greenish-yellow as they stopped to stare at her. Her house seemed to be located on some neighborhood migration path. The light came on at least once or twice every evening, and within two weeks of moving into the place, Eden had stopped looking out the window to see what had triggered it, because it was always the same—cats.

  Although, she thought on her way to her front door, this was a classic horror-story setup. Complacent heroine, evil marauding terror. Zombies, perhaps. She fitted the key into the door and turned it. Maybe she should just take a quick peek out the window every now and then to see who or what was passing by.

  Or maybe she should stop letting the envelope get to her.

  But what if Ian hadn’t put it there?

  CHAPTER THREE

  “THERE ARE three computers,” Nick said. “Two in the back office and the other in the entry area before you go into the kitchen. There’s a file cabinet in the office—”

  “Oh, shit.” Daphne let her head fall forward, her forehead hitting the bar with an audible thunk that made the whiskey in Nick’s glass bounce. “He’s here,” she said without moving. “I should never have told him to man up. Now he’s hell-bent on proving to me that he is.”

  No doubt whom she meant.

  Nick understood why Marcus had a thing for Daphne. A lot of the guys did. She had a killer body, long black, wavy hair and a damn fine face. Plus, she could outshoot most guys in the department. But she wasn’t going to hook up with Marcus, and it would be a hell of a lot easier on everyone in the immediate vicinity if he’d accept this.

  “Hey.” Marcus pulled up a stool on the other side of Daphne. �
�Are you feeling all right?” he asked, as she raised her head and pushed the hair back from her face impatiently.

  “I was.”

  “Why are you here?” Nick inquired, before Daphne could skewer the guy.

  “I saw your truck outside.” Marcus raised his hand to get the bartender’s attention. “Corona, please. With a lime.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want one of those sixty-four-calorie light beers?” Daphne asked politely.

  “What does that mean?” Marcus looked down at his flat stomach, as if wondering if she was suggesting he was fat. Not fat. Just a wiener, but Nick hoped she didn’t tell him that. Not when they needed his assistance—although he did seem totally impervious to insult.

  “We were kind of having a private conversation,” Nick said.

  “Oh. Well I didn’t mean to butt in.” Marcus’s voice was clipped. “I just thought we were kind of a team.”

  “We are a team,” Nick said wearily. They needed him, as annoying as he was. “So why don’t you tell me about this groundwork you’ve laid.”

  Daphne took a drink of her beer and a few drops fell onto the front of her blouse. As she brushed them away, Marcus’s eyes followed the movement like a tracking beam.

  “What groundwork?” he asked, glancing away from her chest.

  “You said at the cooking lesson that you’d laid groundwork,” Nick reminded him.

  “I hope to lay some groundwork,” Marcus corrected.

  That wasn’t what he’d said, but Nick wasn’t going to argue fine points. He laid a palm on the bar and leaned closer to the accountant. “I do not need help with the getting into Tremont Catering part. I need help with the files after I get them. That is your job.”

  Marcus smirked. “You aren’t the only one who can indulge in covert operations.”

  Covert operations? Daphne frowned at Nick, who rolled his eyes skyward. It beat choking their teammate.

  “Look,” she said, turning her attention back to Marcus, “we all have our jobs. Yours is behind a desk, and that’s fine. When I told you to man up, apparently you got the wrong idea.”

  “No, sister,” Marcus said, pointing a finger at her. “You’ve got the wrong idea. About me.” “You’re an accountant,” Daphne said patiently. “Nothing wrong with that.”

  “Do not patronize me,” Marcus snapped. He sucked in a long breath that made him look as if he were going to explode. But instead of launching into another verbal assault, he exhaled sharply and headed toward the door.

  “Hey,” the bartender called. “Want your beer?”

  Marcus stopped and fumbled for his wallet.

  “I’ll get it,” Nick said.

  “You can just go to hell.” Marcus flipped a five onto the bar and then jammed his wallet back into his rear pocket before walking out.

  “He’s off his rocker,” Daphne said when the door shut behind him and the other patrons turned their attention back to their drinks.

  “But he’s part of the team,” Nick said darkly, picking up his beer again. “And he’d better not screw up my investigation by going rogue.”

  GABE WAS COOKING eggs when Nick stopped by to see him on Sunday afternoon as usual.

  “Want some?” he asked, holding up the pan. He had a towel tucked into the front of his baggy slacks as a makeshift apron, making him look very much as if he knew what he was doing.

  “No,” Nick said, noticing that there wasn’t enough to share. “I just ate. You go ahead.”

  Gabe slipped the eggs onto a plate and sat at his small table, the towel still in place. Nick sat opposite him.

  “So you got something out of the lessons,” Nick said with a touch of I-told-you-so in his voice.

  “Yeah and so did you.”

  “Meaning?”

  Gabe snorted. “You can continue to deny it, but you were watching the teacher.”

  Nick’s mouth tightened. He hadn’t been looking at Eden for the reasons his grandfather seemed to think he was.

  Besides, his granddad wasn’t around him enough to know whether or not he was looking at women. He’d looked. A few times. But he hadn’t felt ready to act.

  “You don’t need to feel shifty about it,” Gabe said. “It’s been two years since Miri passed away.” During which time Nick had buried himself in his work.

  “I don’t feel shifty about it.” Well, maybe he did, but not for the reasons Gabe thought.

  His grandfather shoveled eggs into his mouth, then reached for the salt. Nick put his hand on the shaker first. “Remember what Lois says.”

  “Screw Lois.” But Gabe abandoned his attempt to raise his blood pressure. “Hey, they’re planning the casino night. It’s on the fifteenth.”

  “I’ll mark it on my calendar.” Nick had been to every one of the semiannual casino nights since Gabe had taken up residence in Candlewood. Family came and participated, and Nick was the only family Gabe had in town, since his son and wife, Nick’s parents, now lived in Las Vegas.

  Gabe smiled in a predatory way. He loved to gamble. “I’m going to clean up, you know. Buy a new recliner.”

  “You have enough money to buy a recliner now.”

  “But it’s more fun to win the money gambling.” He cut his eyes sideways. “Which brings me to another issue.”

  Nick raised his eyebrows. “An issue?”

  “Yeah. My wallet disappeared. At the cooking lesson, I think.”

  Nick stared at the old man for a moment, trying to figure out what was going on in his head. “This isn’t a ploy to get me talking to Eden Tremont, is it?”

  “Hell, no. If you don’t have the balls to talk to her without an excuse—”

  Nick raised his hand, interrupting. “Sorry. It’s just that…” I don’t believe you, you old coot. “I’ll see what I can do about your wallet. Did you have any cash in it?”

  “A few bucks.”

  “Credit cards?”

  “Keep ’em in the strongbox.”

  “ID?” His grandfather was no longer allowed to drive, and hated having an official ID card instead of a license.

  “Strongbox.”

  “Then all you lost was a couple bucks.”

  “And the wallet, which I wouldn’t mind getting back. You see, my grandson gave it to me as a present.”

  JUSTIN WAS ALREADY busy in the pastry room when Eden got to work the next morning. Patty would be late due to an appointment, so Eden started prepping for a brunch the following afternoon instead of making phone calls to purveyors and clients as usual. She got a good hour of work in before she finally abandoned her veggies and went back into the pastry area, where Justin was applying a base icing. “Hey, uh…”

  He looked up. “What?”

  “I found an envelope on my windshield last night when I left around six o’clock.”

  “Just an envelope?” her brother asked patiently. “Or was there something in it?”

  “I don’t know what was in it. I figured it was from Ian, and I dropped it on the ground, because I was really hoping he was watching me. Then curiosity got the better of me and I came back after babysitting Rosemary, and it was gone.”

  Justin shifted his weight, holding the spatula in his hand in a way that made Eden think he could defend himself with it. “Has Ian been bothering you?”

  “Haven’t seen him in over a week.”

  “If he does…”

  Yeah. Right. She was going to have Justin deal with Ian for her. Mmm-hmm. “I’ll let you know,” she said. It wasn’t as if her ex-boyfriend was dangerous. He was just hardheaded and hated to lose. He was determined to convince Eden the guest-bedroom grope had been a one-time thing, a fluke. Eden wasn’t buying it and didn’t like being lied to.

  “I’m serious,” Justin called after her as she left the pastry cave.

  “I know. And thank you,” she called back. But she did feel better knowing she had someone who’d watch out for her.

  She went back to work prepping the veggies when the buzzer on the front door
rang. Wiping her hands on a towel, she walked into the reception area, stopping in the doorway when she saw who was there. One tall, broad-shouldered, dark haired cooking student.

  “Nick?”

  “Hi.” He looked almost embarrassed as he said, “I was wondering…my granddad lost his wallet. I’m checking all the places he’s been. Which aren’t too many.”

  “Black elk skin?” Eden asked as she reached beneath the counter and pulled out the wallet Patty had found tucked in a drawer that morning.

  He nodded. “That’s the one.”

  “Your grandfather lost his wallet in a drawer.”

  Nick let out a long breath. “No doubt.” He fixed her with sea-green eyes and said, “Just to give you a heads-up…I think my grandfather did this on purpose so that I would come down here and talk to you.”

  Eden laughed. “Enterprising.”

  His smile was slow and charming, although she didn’t think he meant it to be.

  “Are we the victims of geriatric matchmaking?” she asked, realizing that in spite of the Ian debacle, she didn’t mind. In fact, Nick Duncan was kind of a nice distraction.

  He cleared his throat. “I think so.”

  “What shall we do about that?” she asked innocently.

  “Anything we can not to encourage him.”

  Eden took a moment to process his answer, and decided that he wasn’t being insulting. No, he had nothing against her—he was trying to keep his grandfather in line. “Not in the dating market?”

  “It’s not that, it’s just…”

  “Hey,” she said. “None of my business.” Nick was interesting and she’d play this by ear. But there was something he could help her with. She tilted her head slightly and asked, “Would you mind giving me some security advice?”

  The stunned look on his face made her wonder if she’d said something wrong. “You are in security, aren’t you? Marcus told me you were.”