by Cathryn Fox
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said and smiled. “Evan’s told me a lot about you.”
She looked up into a pair of eyes the color of fine sherry – a deep rich gold. Her body flushed in response to the intensity in them as his hand tightened a little around hers.
To her surprise, up close she found Dylan Bryant as intriguing as Evan. It shouldn’t have been so unexpected, after all he was an incredibly attractive man with an engaging on-screen personality. And that was before she’d met him in person. That personality was even more magnetic up close.
“I know who you are Mr. Bryant,” she said, all too aware of him and her hand in his.
Ever since they’d announced the series Evan’s show had been Lily’s private obsession. Although she wouldn’t have admitted it to anyone she’d recorded every episode and watched every interview she could find.
For the first time and in Evan’s presence, Lily was surprised to find herself distracted by and as attracted to a man as she was to Evan. If someone would have told her that could happen she’d have said it was impossible. She’d tried for years, unsuccessfully, to forget him.
Tall and blond, Dylan Bryant was a handsome man in his own right, his thick golden hair straight where Evan’s was wavy, his features more refined, less craggy than Evan’s. Judging by the hint of muscle and the lean abdomen revealed by the drape of his casual polo shirt, he was just as beautiful underneath it.
There was something about him though, something she’d only caught glimpses of in those TV interviews. In person, Dylan Bryant had a charm, a quiet intensity and graciousness that enveloped her, wrapped her in warmth.
She’d wondered how he handled Evan’s volatility. Now she understood. He was the balance to it. Dylan was the calm, Evan the storm, yet both were just as passionate in their own way.
Until she’d met Evan, she’d never believed in instant attraction.
Now there was Dylan.
Maybe the attraction to Evan had finally worn off? Just a little, enough for her to breathe? Maybe enough for her to finally be able to move on after all these years?
She glanced up into Evan’s glacier blue eyes, into his dramatically chiseled features and her breath caught as it always did. Her heart twisted a little. No. It hadn’t diminished one bit.
“Call me Lily, please,” she murmured in reply as she looked back to Dylan and wondered what Evan could possibly have said to him about her. After all, Evan must have been through dozens of women since then. She’d been sure he’d forgotten her, written her off.
She couldn’t imagine why they were here or what it was they wanted.
“Lily, then,” Dylan Bryant said, his tone even, with only the faintest trace of a southern accent coloring his voice. “Call me Dylan. Shall we sit for a moment?”
He gestured at one of the tables.
With a shake of her head, she said, softly, “No, thank you, I prefer to stand. What can I do for you, Mr. Bryant?”
She turned away. Needing to put distance between herself and them, she went to the gas burners and shut off the gas. The little pots of fuel she left burning, it was better to let them burn themselves out. As there was nothing but water in the pans of water above them in any case – to keep the sauces in the bottles warm and liquid so they would drizzle properly – nothing would be harmed.
“Dylan,” he repeated. “Actually, I, we, would like to offer you a job.”
Lily blinked. “I beg your pardon,” she said, bewildered. “I have a job. This one. This restaurant is mine.”
She wasn’t saying no, she was trying to understand.
“I know that. We want to offer you another one,” he said. “I want you to work for me, for us. I’m the director of Evan’s television show.”
“What? I know that but…,” she said, confused.
It still didn’t make any sense. He couldn’t have said what she’d thought he’d said. Evan didn’t even like her. They’d always fought.
She looked at Evan again, pushed back the ache around her heart.
A thousand memories raced through her mind. Including the last, disastrous one, the argument that had ended everything.
“Why me?” she blurted, although it came out calmly enough.
Dylan Bryant smiled wryly and jerked his thumb in Evan’s direction.
“Because from what I understand you’re the only one with guts enough to go toe-to-toe with the big bad wolf,” he said.
For a moment Lily paused, the description so apt she fought a smile.
Big bad wolf.
Evan could definitely be all of that. He could huff and puff and blow you right down if you let him. If anyone knew that, it was her. He’d nearly done it, nearly bullied her into submission as he had with everyone else who worked for him, but as much as she admired him she wouldn’t let him do to her what he’d done to them.
She didn’t dare look at Evan to see what he was thinking, although she wanted to…and then she did because she needed to know. Some traitorous part of her heart wanted to know that he wanted her to be part of this.
“How do you feel about that, Evan?” she asked.
When they’d worked together it had always been Cavanaugh and Chef Taylor, or merely Chef, never by name.
For the first time since that initial meeting of the eyes, he looked at her.
Memories shimmered in the air between them, she could almost feel them.
Dylan Bryant said hastily, “He agreed to it.”
She glanced at him, kept her voice even, her tone polite, almost gentle. “I didn’t ask you. I asked him. And I want an answer.”
Lily turned to look at Evan.
“It’s a great opportunity, Lily,” Evan said, evenly for him, his expression unreadable for once. “One you deserve. You’d be back in my kitchen, though. As my sous chef.”
“And more,” Dylan added hurriedly. “You’ll have carte blanche. We’ll promote your cookbooks. We want it to be a clash of styles, of attitudes. The network will be officially hands off. Whatever happens in the kitchen between you two happens. You even have an escape clause if you want to take it – the right to leave if it’s clearly not working.”
“I have a job,” she repeated, still trying to take in what they were offering.
She felt like an idiot, but they couldn’t possibly be asking her what she thought they were…
Chapter Two
Evan hadn’t known what to expect seeing Lily again. He hadn’t known what it would be like or what it would do to him when he did. He hadn’t known that everything he’d once felt for her would come rushing back. He’d thought he was over her.
What he hadn’t considered was that time would have refined her, that she’d become even more lovely. Her eyes were the same long-lashed doe brown, but her mouth looked softer than he remembered. Her hair was the same rich shade, the color of golden oak, wavy and long. She’d always worn it tucked up when she was working, but he’d loved the sight of it when she let it down at the end of the night.
Nor had he forgotten how much he’d loved to look at her body, the curve of her breasts, her perfect ass.
He hadn’t expected his heart to clench when he saw her or his cock to ache.
It was a shock to find he wanted her just as much now as he had then, if not more. It was even more of a surprise to find that he did want her to do the show, wanted to watch her flare back at him, to fight with him as no one else did or dared to do. She’d never been afraid of him.
He could also see in her eyes that she remembered how it had ended.
He remembered, too.
The shouting, the fury, both spiked by his need, his unspoken desire. She was his employee, untouchable. The words spoken by both of them echoed in his mind. The pain he didn’t dare show, then or now, he turned to anger instead, as always.
“You always said you would trust your people, Lily,” he snapped and watched her brown eyes flash in response with satisfaction. “Train them, trust them and leave them to do the
ir jobs, isn’t that what you said? What you wanted me to do?”
Lily’s temper flared in response.
It was too reminiscent of their last argument, back in the days when she’d been his sous chef, fresh out of the Culinary Institute and just back from France. She’d trained with the best, she’d known her job.
The argument where she’d walked out on him, where he’d told her to leave and not come back. So she had. The pain was as fresh as the day she’d left.
“Don’t you dare throw my words back at me, Evan,” she snapped. “Don’t you dare! I do trust my people.”
What she didn’t trust was him, as he hadn’t trusted her. Or herself.
“What do you want from me, Lily? I won’t beg,” he shouted in return and turned on Dylan, throwing up his hands in frustration. “You see why this won’t work?”
“Actually,” Dylan said as he watched, “from where I stand it’s working just fine.”
In fact, it was brilliant. Great drama. Dylan loved it, every moment of it. Lily Cavanaugh clearly wasn’t afraid of anyone. It was obvious that he didn’t intimidate her and she certainly wasn’t afraid of Evan, instead she shouted right back at him. No one shouted at Evan. Except Lily Cavanaugh.
Neither would back down an inch and both were magnificent in their fury.
Evan always was, of course, but Lily had been the unknown. Until now.
But God, as a director, watching them? They were beautiful, incredible. Hot and sexy.
With that thick, wavy golden brown hair, Lily was fire while Evan was ice. They’d steam up the screen between them. It would be great TV.
It also seemed that Evan had left out one little detail when they’d talked. He hadn’t told Dylan he’d been in love with Lily Cavanaugh. Or that he still was.
Knowing Evan, it wasn’t surprising he hadn’t mentioned it. Evan hated to admit to a weakness.
Seeing Lily Cavanaugh, seeing them together, Dylan knew the attraction between them had been nearly inevitable.
As was Dylan’s own attraction to her.
That wasn’t surprising either considering he and Evan shared tastes in so much, including women. It was one of the reasons they’d become not just professional partners, but close friends.
But then Dylan himself been half in love with her even before that.
Truth be told, Dylan had had the hots for her after seeing her on a few interview shows. The pictures on her book jackets hadn’t done her justice. With those delicate features she wasn’t movie-star beautiful, instead she had an approachable girl-next-door wholesome loveliness that was far more enduring, a face middle America would be comfortable with, would fall in love with instantly the way he had. She had character with enough attitude to please the folks on the East and West coasts. Enough attitude to stick up for herself with Evan. Those seemingly soft doe-brown eyes flashing fire was so unexpected.
He hadn’t known who she was then. She’d been quick, clever, and funny in those interviews, just what Evan’s show needed.
Dylan didn’t have a problem admitting that watching them go at each other turned him on. He liked watching, he’d always been a bit of a voyeur.
He also loved the look of her, loved her graceful lines, the swell of her breast, the neat indentation of her waist. Her dress draped perfectly.
Her thick, lovely hair was caught back in a long tail by a dark gold ribbon. It was just the right length to wrap around his hand and drag her head back so he could feast on her throat, the ripe fullness of those breasts. He couldn’t take his eyes off her, off that firm, rounded ass as she suddenly turned and walked away, as if she’d come too close to the heat, drawn like a moth to the flame before fleeing it.
His gaze caressed her shapely legs, made even more so by the high heels of the sandals she wore. It was far too easy to imagine her naked but for those sandals, bent over so he could run a hand over the firm globes of that bottom and then between them.
Desire flared. To his surprise, given that she was almost a stranger to him, he found himself wanting to follow that lush cleavage with his lips and tongue. His body went tight and his cock stiffened against his zipper. Suddenly he was glad they were still standing and hoped his loose khakis would hide the most visible sign of his attraction. This was no way to conduct these negotiations, but he couldn’t quite seem to make himself stop.
A glance at Evan, at the look in his eyes, was enough to tell Dylan he was having the same problem.
Evan didn’t need to see Dylan’s look to know what he thought, he’d known from the minute they’d walked in the door the affect Lily would have on his friend. It was the same effect she’d had on him from the first moment he’d seen her. He’d wanted her then almost instantly, from the moment she’d walked into his restaurant that first time.
What he hadn’t known was how she felt about him, what she wanted. After all the women in his life, so many of them more interested in his money and his fame than him, he hadn’t known how to trust. In the end, it was probably best he hadn’t known what her true feelings were.
Until that first meeting, he’d only seen her bona fides, her resume and recommendations. Many people would’ve considered his invitation an honor, but in her case and with her qualifications he couldn’t have not taken her. He’d never seen her, not even a picture. He hadn’t thought he needed to, he wasn’t hiring for looks, but for talent. Not until she responded to his invitation to work with him and she’d knocked him off his feet.
The dress she’d worn that day had been silk, purchased in Paris. He’d paid for his le Cordon Bleu training by modeling in Europe, so he could tell the quality by the cut, the lines. He also knew she’d just returned from studying cooking there. All the same, while her dress hadn’t been chosen to show off her body it still had. To his astonishment, he’d had to fold his arms to keep from touching her. The attraction had been instantaneous. Love at first sight, something he’d never believed in until that moment. And then he’d had to fight it every minute of the day.
To know she shared his passion for cooking hadn’t made it any easier. Even worse, to his eyes she looked sexy even in kitchen whites, her apron tied loosely around her trim waist to reveal her curves and her lush hair tucked neatly up to reveal the slender curve of her neck.
Having worked around models, Evan had been relieved she wasn’t model-pretty, afraid to crack a smile or frown for fear of leaving wrinkles. She was lovely instead, with an open, oval face and perfectly arched brows above those big, beautiful, long-lashed brown eyes he’d loved. She’d had a ready laugh that lit and warmed those eyes and curved that firm, finely shaped mouth. He would learn those eyes could also flash fire and that like Dylan she would be one of the few who wasn’t afraid of him, who didn’t flinch in the face of his rages. He hadn’t known how much that would matter to him.
Kitchens were hot places, so like many she dressed lightly beneath her whites, in thin cotton t-shirts and long yoga-style pants that clung to her body. Half the time he’d found himself rigid beneath his slacks, trying to resist stroking himself when she bent over to check an oven or stretched to reach something.
Like him, Lily was a sensualist, he’d seen that the first moment she’d closed her eyes to inhale the aroma of a dish or savored the taste and texture of a sauce on her tongue.
Cooking was a sensual experience, an exercise not merely in taste, but aroma and texture, the appearance of the food on the plate, the scent of it filling your nose, the feel of it or the sauce in your mouth, the smoothness or creaminess of it, the slide of it over the tongue. All he had to do was watch to know she shared that, too.
She’d had a talent, a gift with sauces, but he could have dropped her into any position in the restaurant and she would have done as well, as any great chef could.
She was incredible. He’d wanted her then, intensely.
Except that she was his employee, untouchable by law and by custom. It would destroy the discipline in his kitchen. It had the potential to ruin everything he
’d worked to achieve. How many times had he seen it tear apart even the most well-trained staff? They always knew. He’d had to remind himself of that again and again.
The moment they’d walked into her restaurant though, and he’d seen her again, seen her hair glow under the lights, those incredible eyes, he knew he still wanted her. If anything he wanted her even more.
She’d been smiling when they first stepped inside, those lovely lips had parted when she’d looked up and he’d wanted to kiss them even then.
In that moment he’d known he’d been in love with her then and he was still in love with her now.
“Evan’s right,” she said, her words jarring him out of his reverie. “This won’t work. It can’t work.”
The words were shocking, too reminiscent of that last argument.
Seeing her again brought it all back, the need, the desire, and his anger. In his fury that day he’d shouted at her to get out. The instant he’d said the words he’d wanted to take them back, but he couldn’t, not in front of his staff.
Instead he’d stayed stiff, silent and let her go.
He could still see her expression in his mind’s eye, her pretty face paling, her eyes wide and shocked as she looked back at him. Then she’d thrown her apron in his face, turned her back on him and walked away. The pain of it had stunned him then and infuriated him now.
“Are you afraid of me, Lily? Didn’t you say you weren’t?” he lashed back.
Her brown eyes flashed with anger and hurt.
All the emotions Lily had felt that day came rushing back, as her dreams were crushed and with them the knowledge she’d never see him again. She hadn’t been wrong to say what she had, she still felt she’d been right, but that didn’t stop the hurt. She hadn’t been afraid of him. She just hadn’t thought she’d lose him, her job, and threaten her dreams.
“Damn it, Evan,” Lily said, flaring back at him. “Stop using my words against me. It’s not that I’m afraid of you.”
“Then what is it,” he snapped, “if you’re not afraid of me?”
