by Tami Lund
An hour later, she stood in front of the large, plate glass window behind the sink in her kitchen, overlooking a beautiful hazy morning on the bayou. Egrets and other birds took flight, dipping into the water to snatch up unsuspecting fish. Turtles sprawled in the sun on logs jutting from the murky water. She’d opened the windows yesterday, but this morning, she walked around the house, closing them and flipping on the air conditioning. The air was thick with humidity, thicker than normal, which meant an early summer storm was on its way.
She heard the sound of feet climbing the steps to reach the back door, and she turned to greet her favorite brother and his family.
“Hey there,” she said warmly as Jack pulled her into a bear hug. She laughed when he ruffled her hair, just like he’d done for as long as she could remember. When she was a teenager and young adult, she hated it, because she used to spend far too much time trying to bring control to her naturally chaotic hair. It had taken her a long time to reach the point of grudging acceptance of the crazy curls.
Although considering Connor had praised her hair multiple times in the last few days, she’d warmed even more to the mass. Amazing what good sex and a nice compliment could do for a girl’s self-image.
“Whoever you got to fix those steps left all his stuff behind,” Jack commented.
“Oh, yeah. I don’t think he’s done. I’m sure he’ll clean it up when he comes back.”
“Why didn’t you call me to do it?”
Before Emily Kate could come up with an answer, Kennedy hugged her and said, “Wow, you look, I don’t know...happy, I guess.”
“I don’t usually look happy?”
Kennedy stepped out of the embrace and shook her head. “No, you do. It’s just you look...I don’t know.”
“She looks like you did when you hooked up with Jack for the first time,” Wendy piped up.
How could the woman possibly know?
“See?” Wendy said, pointing at Emily Kate’s face. “Look how red she is. There’s a man hiding in here somewhere. Is it that new chef at your restaurant? Because if I were in your shoes, I’d certainly jump on that.”
“Mother,” Kennedy said with an outraged gasp. Wendy gave her an innocent look.
Jack narrowed his eyes and glared at Emily Kate. “Is there a man lurking in the house somewhere?” he asked in his low, dangerous voice, and then she watched as his gaze actually swept the place while his mind undoubtedly began calculating all possible hiding places.
“No!” she protested as she turned back to rather vigorously chopping vegetables for omelets.
“Was there a man here?” Jack amended his question.
“Where’s your new chef?” Wendy wanted to know.
“At the restaurant,” Emily Kate said. She ignored Jack’s question.
“Come to think of it,” Wendy mused as she peered out the window, “where’s your car?”
“At the restaurant,” Emily Kate said automatically. Connor had promised to drive back to retrieve her once her family left and she was ready to go to work.
“With the new chef?” Wendy said brightly. Too brightly.
“Can we please stop talking about this?” Emily Kate asked, her voice full of exasperation. “Do you want breakfast or not?”
Over breakfast, she asked if there had been any developments in the case that had brought Jack to the area. He shoveled a bite of omelet into his mouth. After he swallowed, he said, “Now it’s money and murder. A hiker found a body in a shallow grave up in Arkansas.”
“Can you talk about it?” Usually, Jack’s cases were top secret, so he wasn’t supposed to give them any details.
He shrugged. “The media’s already aware of the body.”
“How do you know it’s connected to your case?”
“The victim is an employee at a rival casino to the Lucky Belle. May not be connected, of course, but we aren’t ruling anything out at the moment.”
“So what’s your case about? I mean, I know you said money, but what does that mean?”
“The general manager—guy’s name is Vik Koskovich—claims there’s an elaborate scheme going on to steal a boatload of money from his casino.”
“He even gave Jack the name of the person responsible for the scheme,” Kennedy added.
Jack gave her a sour look. “You aren’t supposed to share anything I tell you about the job.”
Kennedy flapped her hand in Emily Kate’s direction. “You were just telling her the story.”
“I wasn’t necessarily going to give her that much detail.”
Kennedy rolled her eyes. “If it helps, he didn’t tell me the name of the guy responsible,” she said, speaking to Emily Kate.
“Good thing I didn’t,” Jack muttered. Kennedy stuck out her tongue.
“Sounds pretty cut and dry,” Wendy commented.
Jack shrugged and took a slug of orange juice. “It’s too clean, I guess. Shit—oops, sorry, Wendy—stuff like this is never so straightforward.”
“So you think the general manager is up to no good?” Emily Kate asked.
“I don’t know what to think yet,” Jack said. “There are still a lot of missing pieces. And some stuff that doesn’t add up.”
“You can usually tell that sort of thing?” Wendy asked, sounding fascinated by her son-in-law’s career.
“Usually. There’s almost always something that raises a red flag. It’s this guy the GM says is involved that’s not making sense for me. I haven’t found a link to the casino yet. Or to one of the usual entities that might want to steal from the casino. The only thing remotely suspicious about him at this point is he’s disappeared off the grid in the last forty-eight hours.”
“Sounds like you need to look at the GM some more,” Wendy said.
Jack gave her a surprised look. “Yeah,” he admitted. “That’s exactly what we’re doing. My partner, Cullen, is talking to some of our contacts down in New Orleans right now. These casino owners, they all know each other, keep tabs on each other. He’s probably coming up on Monday. Even though we’re working, we should all meet at the restaurant,” he suggested. “It’s been a while since we’ve all gotten together.”
“You and Kennedy were just married here two months ago,” Emily Kate pointed out. “It hasn’t been that long.”
“Two months is too long,” Wendy pronounced as she stood up and began gathering dirty dishes.
Emily Kate immediately leaped out of her seat. “Don’t do that, Wendy,” she protested. “I’ll get it. You’re a guest.”
“I’m family,” Wendy replied, pushing away her outstretched arm and heading to the kitchen.
Kennedy took up Emily Kate’s plight. “Go sit down, Mom,” she insisted. “The three of us will clean up.”
Wendy grumbled about being perfectly capable of cleaning up after breakfast, but she finally relented and wandered into the living room. She returned a few moments later.
“Emily Kate, dear, you left something lying on the living room floor last night.” She lifted her hand, from which dangled a lacy red bra.
Jack looked scandalized, Kennedy looked amused, and Emily Kate’s face burned as she snatched the bra from Wendy’s hand and stuffed it into her pocket.
“You’re seeing someone,” Jack said, accusation thick in his voice.
“Wh-what makes you say that?”
Jack stabbed his finger at the pocket of her pants. “Why else would your bra be in the living room?”
“I took it off there.”
“Or maybe somebody else took it off there,” Wendy suggested. “Like maybe that new chef?” Her eyes were bright and hopeful, probably wanting details.
“No,” Emily Kate protested. “No, I’m not seeing anyone.”
“So you’re just sleeping with someone? Some guy’s using my sister?”
“Jack, stop,” she continued to protest.
“For God’s sake, Jack,” Kennedy snapped, glaring at her husband. “I take my bra off practically the minute I step into
the house after a twelve-hour shift at the hospital. And besides, even if that isn’t the reason her bra is lying on the floor in the living room, wasn’t that exactly what you and I were doing in the beginning?” She put her fists on her hips. “What right do you have to give your sister a hard time about it?”
“Good for you all,” Wendy said approvingly. “You should always test out the merchandise before you commit to it long term.”
“Oh, Lord,” Emily Kate muttered. Family. Couldn’t live without them, yet sometimes it wasn’t such a bad deal that they lived several hours away.
***
“Thanks, Pedro. I owe you one.”
“No prob, man,” Pedro assured him. “Anytime I can get out on the boat, it’s a good day. Although we’d better get a move on so we’re back in time to start prepping for dinner.”
Pedro, as it turned out, loved to fish, and knew every inch of Caddo Lake. Following Pedro’s ancient yet impeccably kept fishing boat, Connor guided his stolen vessel to the dock from where he’d taken it in the first place. Connor had been vague about the reason he needed to return to the boat launch, although he was sure Pedro had his suspicions. Why the man trusted him was beyond Connor. He often felt he did not encourage trust from anyone.
He cut the engine, and after a quick glance in Pedro’s direction, he tucked the key into the glovebox and then used an old rag to try to wipe down every surface he’d touched.
Pedro sat in his boat, clinging to the piling, waiting for him.
Connor had rushed out of Emily Kate’s house this morning intending to get the hell away before her family arrived and started asking questions about why some guy was hanging out in her living room so early on a Saturday morning. He especially wanted to avoid the FBI agent. Whether or not Emily Kate’s brother was dealing with whatever shit had happened at the casino two days prior was only part of the concern.
Mostly, Connor was worried about meeting her family, about liking her family, about wanting to think about...more. Like living in a tiny town in northeast Texas on a permanent basis. In a house on stilts, with a girl who made amazing jambalaya but not much else, a girl who painted beautiful pictures and looked adorable with her errant blond curls. With a girl who was so wanton in bed that he got hard at the most inopportune times just thinking about her.
He’d known the woman not quite forty-eight hours, and he was thinking about forever? It was time for Connor to take a reality check.
Hot woman who liked the way he made love.
Cool little restaurant with a solid following and a decent staff to work with.
Realizing his dreams of becoming an executive chef.
Well, sort of. When it came down to it, Emily Kate’s Louisiana Kitchen was just a small, backwoods restaurant with a strong local following, nothing that would put him on the map as a chef. That’s what he’d been waiting for in Detroit. His chance at fame and glory.
People from all over the world went to Detroit for business dealings and conventions. Oliver’s was located at the top of the tallest building in downtown. It was the place to be, featured in dozens of national food magazines and on a couple of restaurant shows on television. A few years ago, a movie that had been filmed in Detroit had shot a pivotal scene inside Oliver’s.
And every time, the executive chef got the glory. Never Connor. Never the sous-chef.
Now he was the executive chef, and it was in the wrong location. The quaint, casual Louisiana Kitchen didn’t have the right following and truly wasn’t exactly the right caliber, even with Connor at the helm.
So...it looked like Connor was going to have to choose one dream or the other, and since he had been harboring the dream of being a glorious and famous chef for ten years and he’d only known Emily Kate for two days—well, it seemed like it would be a simple choice.
In all honesty, he needed to get away from Emily Kate because of all those positive aspects he’d just listed. She was as perfect as perfect could be, and he was anything but. And that wasn’t even taking into account the mess he had gotten mixed up in at the casino.
People in committed relationships were honest with each other. They didn’t have secrets. He knew, because secrets had been the downfall of his parents’ marriage.
If he was ever going to make a try at a permanent relationship, there could be no secrets. And right now, he had a whopper that he couldn’t tell Emily Kate even if he wanted to. It was too dangerous. While he barely knew the guys he’d been running from when he stumbled onto her restaurant, he was certain enough of their ruthlessness to know if he shared his knowledge with anyone, that person would be in danger. Leaving what otherwise could be the perfect relationship was his wisest option. He supposed he should commend himself for—finally—making the smartest choice instead of the one he liked best.
Being smart wasn’t any fun.
With a gusty sigh, he climbed into Pedro’s boat and helped him push it away from the dock. As they tooled away from shore, Connor glanced up and managed to lock gazes with a guy in a suit, sitting in a black Caddy parked on shore, not fifty feet away. He quickly broke eye contact and hoped to God that wasn’t who he thought it was.
As they headed back toward the restaurant, Pedro let him stew in silence, and Connor took the opportunity to contemplate his options. He couldn’t get on a plane to go back to Detroit without his driver’s license, which was in his wallet, which was God knew where. But he needed to leave. He ran the risk of falling for Emily Kate—if he hadn’t already—and that was a bad idea. Connor wouldn’t be able to live with himself if something happened to her.
He wasn’t any closer to an answer to his dilemma by the time they reached Louisiana Kitchen.
He couldn’t get the image of the guy in the suit out of his head. Shit. He needed to get back to Detroit. He couldn’t say here any longer. This was getting way too complicated—his heart, his fears, everything. He needed to separate himself from the perfect woman he’d found at the most imperfect time.
He was going to miss her when he left.
Chapter 8
“Pedro would be a good sous-chef,” Connor said to Emily Kate later that evening while they prepared for the dinner rush. “We could make up some fake title for Andre, so he doesn’t feel threatened by Pedro. Assistant chef or some crap. Although to tell you the truth, I don’t think he’d be offended if you found a new position for him. Something that’s less taxing. Like letting him host.”
“You just want him out of your kitchen,” she teased.
My kitchen. “No, that’s not true. Okay, yes, it is. But seriously, the guy’s 110 or something. He needs to retire.”
“I’ll talk to him,” she promised. “Maybe I will ask him if he wants to move to the front of the house. With the crowds we’ve had the last few days, I could definitely use another body up there to help control the chaos. You have really made an impression in a very short period of time. I might have to give you a raise.”
“Maybe you should give that raise to Pedro. He really does deserve it.” Besides, Pedro was going to have to step up and take over when Connor left. He wasn’t quite ready, but he’d manage. He wouldn’t have a choice, and he was dedicated enough to Emily Kate and the restaurant that he would figure out a way.
Unlike Connor.
“Okay. I trust your judgment.”
You shouldn’t. “I may have to go back to Detroit.” Tomorrow.
“Oh.” That little word was faint and full of emotion.
She didn’t want him to go. His heart swelled at the idea, but he quickly clamped down on any thoughts to that respect. He couldn’t stay. Besides the fact that some creeps were after him, he had a dream, and he couldn’t give up on it. Even if giving up one dream could possibly give him another. Except he hadn’t even realized he wanted the other until the past forty-eight hours, and he’d been chasing the executive chef dream for ten years.
Ten years.
“Permanently?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. She sounded frigh
tened. He cringed on the inside.
“Just need to wrap up some stuff,” he said, lying through his teeth. Well, it wasn’t really lying. It was time to talk to Oliver, man to man. It was time to demand he make Connor the executive chef. And if he refused, Connor planned to pack up his apartment, say goodbye to his sister and mom, and leave Detroit. Maybe he’d head out to California. The Napa Valley area. That was far enough away that hopefully the local restaurant owners wouldn’t know about Oliver Yosman’s hatred for him, and the casino thugs wouldn’t know how to find him.
Of course if he really did manage to find that fame and glory he was convinced he wanted, the thugs would have no problem finding him. Maybe he’d change his name or at least use a pseudonym. Maybe, when he was far enough away, he’d call the local cops and confess everything. Hopefully they’d give him amnesty or whatever the hell it was called. Despite his less than stellar lifestyle, he’d managed thus far to avoid any major brushes with the law, so he didn’t really know a whole lot about it. Yeah, stealing a boat was pretty major stuff, but maybe they’d go lenient on him for rolling over about the rest of it. A man could hope.
“Oh. Okay.” Emily Kate’s breathy voice pulling him back to the present. To reality. To the fact that he was about the leave the best thing that had ever happened to him.
“I’ll make sure Pedro’s well trained before I leave,” he promised.
***
Emily Kate plastered a smile on her face and greeted guests as they swarmed into the restaurant lobby. Saturday evenings were always the busiest, but this crowd was the largest she’d ever witnessed in her career and in her lifetime. The wait for a table was two hours, and no one seemed to mind at all.
“Where’s that cute new chef?” Mrs. Rose wanted to know. Mrs. Rose was an elderly woman who had been close to her grandparents when they were still alive. She rarely came to the restaurant on Saturdays, claiming the crowd was too noisy, yet here she was. And she had brought along a group of cronies, all of whom were over the age of seventy and dressed for an evening on the town.
