With a Little Help

by Valerie Parv

  “You’re right,” he said, moving away with every sign of reluctance. “I’ve been thinking about that night. Seeing you here now made me want to find out if what I remembered about our encounter was real.”

  “The encounter wasn’t real, at least not in the way you mean,” she assured him, sitting down at the table. “And it won’t happen again.”

  His expression was devilish as he sat opposite her. “Are you sure it won’t? I’m not.”

  The thought that she disturbed his equilibrium gave her a moment of satisfaction before she squelched it. “We should get down to business?”

  “Coward,” he murmured so softly she couldn’t be sure she’d heard him. The ring tone of a cell phone cut off any retort she might have made. The Chipmunks’ “Witch Doctor,” she noticed. So the man had a sense of humor.

  He shot her an apologetic look as he flipped the phone open and glanced at the number. “The hospital,” he said to her. “Hale speaking.”

  An all too familiar sensation crept over her. The hospital. How many of her family’s activities had been interrupted by those same words? When she was a child, the reasons her parents had to take the calls had been explained to her over and over again. The clear message she’d received was that patients were more important than she was.

  Whether it was a school play, a sporting event, a graduation, or simply a time when she needed their support, her parents would promise to get there as soon as they could. Medical duties came first. Often they wouldn’t get to her event at all, or she’d solve the problem by herself. The upside was she’d developed a healthy self-reliance. The downside was a reluctance to depend on other people, or expect them to be there for her.

  But all this was in the past. Replaying her grievances because Nate had answered a call from the hospital didn’t change anything. She heard him give a string of instructions concerning a patient’s treatment, sounding so self-assured that she imagined the person at the other end standing at attention. Her father and mother sounded exactly the same.

  He ended the call and placed the phone on the table. “I hope you gave your brother hell for spiking your drink.”

  “You bet I did.” Todd had admitted he’d drunk too much himself, falling over himself to apologize. She’d never seen her brother so upset. “I don’t think he’ll do anything that idiotic again.” Emma hoped she could say the same for herself.

  Nate nodded. “Would you like some iced tea?”

  A carafe and glasses sat on a tray on a little table and he poured a glass for her. Ice tinkled in a tube in the center of the carafe, chilling the drink without diluting it. “Unusual flavor,” she said after taking a sip.

  “Pomegranate, from a tree growing in the garden.”

  Pleasure rippled through her. Her grandmother also grew the fruit, and had included some recipes in one of her cookbooks. Emma would have to look them up.

  She opened her net book and swiveled the screen toward him. “As I told you on the phone, my business isn’t fully up to speed yet, but I’ve put together a selection of menus that might—”

  His phone rang again and he held up a hand to silence her as he took the call. This time he didn’t need to say it was the hospital. He listened intently then unleashed a string of commands. “Do you need me there?” he asked.

  If anything was guaranteed to kill her interest in him, leaving her sitting while he took off would do the trick. Once upon a time she’d let herself be guilt-tripped into feeling selfish for putting her needs ahead of someone in crisis, until she realized that there would always be another crisis, and not even the most highly qualified doctor was indispensable. There was always someone to help, whereas she had only one family. The problem was convincing her parents that she had as much right to their time as their patients did.

  He put the phone down again. “Coming from a medical family, you’d be used to interruptions,” he said.

  “Yes, I am.”

  The coldness she couldn’t keep out of her voice made him raise an eyebrow, but he didn’t respond. Instead he scrolled through the document she’d sat up late last night preparing for him. “Impressive,” he said. “The combinations are nicely balanced. Tarte Tatin is one of my favorites. Making it with figs and leeks is an interesting variation.”

  She heard what he didn’t say. “But?”

  “These options are a bit ordinary.”

  Pride made her bristle but she kept herself in check. “Not everyone appreciates the unusual when it comes to food.”

  “My guests will. A group of us belong to a private gourmet club that travels the country for new and interesting eating experiences.”

  “What kind of experiences?” she asked. Her mother might have mentioned he and his friends were gourmands.

  His eyes brightened. “There’s a tiny place in Rosebud on the Mornington Peninsula in Victoria. Only holds twenty people, and everything they serve comes from their own produce or is sourced locally. We flew down there one Sunday, spent a day with the owners, picking ingredients from their kitchen garden, helping with preparation and eating one of the best meals of my life. Another time, we traveled to the outback to eat crocodile meat beside a river infested with them.”

  “Hardly a relaxing venue,” she said, wondering how often he’d been interrupted by work calls there.

  He leaned forward. “That’s the point. Knowing we were dining on a man-eater in its territory was a real buzz. The indigenous community hosting the dinner obtain all the ingredients in and around the river. They supplied the crocodile meat and showed us how to hunt goannas, dig for yams and climb trees to harvest wild honey.” He brought his fingertips together. “Have you eaten live witchetty grubs?”

  She couldn’t suppress a shudder. “It’s not high on my list of foods to try.”

  His lopsided grin was oddly appealing. “You should. The texture is soft, and the taste reminiscent of a gamey veal pâté. You hold the grub by the head and kind of suck the meat off.” He mimed the action.

  “Are you telling me you’d like live grubs on your birthday menu?”

  He shook his head. “Only a few of the group volunteered for that experience. But generally we’re more adventurous with food than most people, so you can pull out all the stops.”

  His proposal was a chef’s dream, but she was in no position to take advantage of it while she was still in the throes of establishing her business.

  She closed the net book. “I can’t tell you how much this tempts me.” In more ways than one, she thought, wondering fleetingly if she was turning the job down because of the business or him. “In good conscience, I won’t take a job on unless I can do it well. Now I know what you’re looking for, I’m positive I’m not the right person for this assignment.”

  “And I’m positive that you are.”

  He wasn’t insisting because of her talents, but because he was used to getting his own way. She’d been through similar scenes with her family. His attitude on the phone had shown her how accustomed he was to being in charge.

  “Why are you so determined to hire Love This Catering?” she asked. “You must have a lot of contacts in the food business through your group.”

  He took his time answering. “You intrigue me. I know your parents and brother professionally, and you’re totally different from them.”

  “In what way?” she asked warily, so used to being compared with her family and found wanting that she braced herself automatically.

  “You’re an original,” he said, surprising her. “You don’t like being reminded of how you came on to me at the party, but no one’s done anything like that to me before, at least not so ingenuously. The alcohol may have boosted your nerve, but it didn’t put the idea in your head. You saw what you wanted and you went after it. Just as you did when you started your own business.”

  “I get my passion for cooking from my grandmother, Jessie Jarrett,” she explained, reluctantly pleased by his appreciation.

  He frowned. “I thought all
your family were doctors.”

  “Dad’s father is an oncologist, but Gramma Jessie is better known for writing cookbooks.”

  “I worked with Greg Jarrett Sr. during my residency,” Nate mused. He showed no interest in Jessie’s activities, Emma noted without surprise.

  “And the Kenners?” he prompted.

  She gave a sigh. “Trudy Kenner met my grandfather when they were both in a civilian surgical and medical team during the Vietnam War. You might have heard of him—Howard Kenner.”

  “I’m familiar with his work in antirejection therapy for transplant patients,” Nate said. “Your mother goes by Kenner-Jarrett, but I didn’t make the connection.”

  “She’d probably be glad to introduce you.” Emma knew how proud Cherie was of her father. “He travels overseas a lot and we don’t see much of him, but he’s due back in Australia next month.”

  “He might be here in time for the party,” Nate observed.

  “You never know your luck.” Emma felt cheated. For a few brief minutes, he’d seen her as an individual instead of a member of a medical dynasty, and a misfit at that.

  She gathered her things together. “Since none of my menus is to your liking, I’d better get back to the drawing board.”

  His hand closed over hers, and it took an effort not to jerk away. “There’s nothing wrong with your menus. I’m sure your clients love them all. And I saw your eyes light up when I asked you to prepare something extraordinary for me, so the problem isn’t the challenge. Something else I said got your back up. What is it?”

  “Isn’t my lack of facilities enough reason to turn you down?”

  He shook his head. “You strike me as the type of cook who can perform miracles with a campfire if you have to. Something else is bugging you.”

  He was bugging her, but she didn’t say so. “I don’t like being railroaded.”

  He withdrew his hand. “By a walking ego with delusions of godhood,” he finished for her.

  “You said it this time, not me.”

  “You were thinking it.”

  The last thing she wanted him knowing was how conflicted he made her feel. Half of her wanted to walk away to avoid dealing with his world and all the negatives it represented in her life. The other half insisted on remembering how it felt to kiss him. She kept her voice level. “I’m entitled to my thoughts.”

  “Of course.” He nodded tightly. “What do you think Jessie would do?”

  Amazed that the name had registered with him when Jessie’s cookbooks were so far beneath his notice, she said warily, “Why do you ask?”

  “She was the odd one out in her family, yet she’s a success in her own right. She didn’t let herself be overshadowed by a well-known husband.”

  “Jessie is one of a kind.”

  “What about Trudy Kenner? She practiced medicine in a war zone alongside her husband. And not your mother.”

  “Only me,” she said under her breath.

  He heard anyway. “There’s one way you can trump them if you choose. Make such a success of what you do that they end up living in your shadow.”

  She almost choked with suppressed laughter. The idea of Cherie being described as Emma Jarrett’s mother instead of the other way around was as unlikely as it was appealing. She imagined a TV interviewer asking Cherie, “What’s it like having a culinary genius in the family?”

  Nate’s phone rang. He turned slightly away and rattled off instructions, then closed the phone. “This time I have to go. Can I drop you somewhere?”

  Reality check, she thought. She’d almost let herself believe he was different, understanding her passion instead of dismissing it. “I drove here, I’m sure I’ll remember the way back.”

  His gaze softened. “Good, I wouldn’t want you to forget. Take your time finishing your drink. Then Joanna will show you around the kitchen. I’ll drop by your office next Tuesday after work. That should give you time to put together a menu to knock my socks off. We both know you want to.”

  Without giving her the chance to contradict him, he bounded down the steps and headed toward the house, taking for granted that she’d do exactly what he wanted.

  In spite of her annoyance, the challenge primed her senses like an explosive charge. How had he known? she wondered as she finished the pomegranate tea. He’d zeroed in on the one thing that guaranteed her cooperation, the chance to show that she was as first-rate in her world as the rest of her family was in theirs. Her feelings had nothing to do with the way Nate’s touch affected her, or how tempted she was to kiss him again. This was purely professional. Or so she tried to assure herself.

  AS NATE DROVE TO THE HOSPITAL, his mind grappled with the complications his team had reported about one of their patients. Normally, he’d have options mapped out by the time he got there, but his thoughts were distracted by his meeting with the lovely Emma.

  She didn’t want anything to do with him, so why was he determined to have her mastermind his celebration dinner? Was he so used to his team jumping when he snapped his fingers that he’d forgotten how to handle rejection? He hated to think so, and yet…he felt an attraction for Emma Jarrett that he couldn’t pin down, like the first taste of a weird and wonderful food. He craved more of her while suspecting she wouldn’t be good for him. She didn’t like him. She didn’t like doctors, he corrected. Hardly surprising given the way her family regarded her choice of career. When Cherie had heard Nate’s assistant joshing him about his upcoming birthday and asking what he was doing about a party, she’d recommended Emma, but had made far more of her daughter’s single status than her catering skills.

  Cherie was wasting her time matchmaking. Nate hadn’t missed the way Emma frowned every time he took a call this morning, or the flicker of frustration when he announced he had to go to the hospital. He’d been through it all before in his own family.

  When his mother could no longer stand the round-the-clock demands of his father’s country medical practice, she’d carted twelve-year-old Nate back to Sydney, eventually moving them in with her lawyer. She and Josh were still a couple. His father, coming up to retirement age, was the country town’s only doctor and worked much longer hours than he preferred. He had never remarried.

  Three years ago, Nate had been practically engaged to Pamela Coyne, a stunningly beautiful journalist who’d turned his mates green with envy. Hot in every way a woman could be hot, she’d run cold after finding herself attending too many functions alone because he’d been called away by an emergency. The final showdown had been ugly, but short of abandoning his life’s work, Nate couldn’t see anything changing. A doctor’s life was what it was. Eventually Pam had told him what he could do with his medical degree, and was now living with a stockbroker.

  After so many years as an only child, Nate had been surprised when his mother presented him with a half brother, Luke, now fifteen. The gulf between their ages meant Nate felt more like an uncle to Luke, and they didn’t have much in common. Luke was into skateboarding, fast cars and music Nate thought barely qualified for the name. The teenager stayed away from school when he felt like it, and hung out with a group that worried his parents. Nate had tried talking to Luke man-to-man, but the gap was too wide. Nate had always envied large families and hoped to have one of his own. But the mother of his kids would have to come from the medical world and understand its pressures. With his thirty-fifth birthday fast approaching, the prospects weren’t looking good.

  He hadn’t exactly been a lone wolf. He’d had his share of romances, parting without too many regrets on either side when the relationship ran its course. Now that he thought about it, he was shocked to realize that there’d been no romance in his life for nearly three months. No wonder he’d reacted so strongly to having Emma come on to him at that Christmas party.

  Abstinence was his problem, not Emma, he decided, muttering as a white SUV cut in front of him. Who was he kidding? Only after meeting her had the craving for a lasting relationship really set in. It wasn’t on
ly sex he needed. He wanted a sense of home and family, the stuff hardest to come by. Kids might be too busy to meet dad at the door any more, and wives kept equally long hours as their partners did, but they could still be a team. The SUV stopped for a red light. A yellow tag in the rear window read Family on Board. How would it feel to have a sign like that in his car?

  He drummed his palms against the steering wheel in frustration. Turning thirty-five was getting to him. He should go out with Emma, take her to bed and enjoy the experience until one of them moved on. The fear that he might not want to stopped him. She was definitely the wrong candidate. He’d seen too many danger signals already. Hands off was the only safe policy, even though the idea clashed with his instincts like a misdiagnosis.

  CHAPTER THREE

  SOPHIE STUCK HER HEAD around Emma’s office door on Tuesday morning. “Are you in for phone calls yet? I’ve had six inquiries so far and two new clients wanting to book events. One of them’s a wedding a year from now.”

  “The Nathan Hale effect?”

  “Yup. Word’s getting around.” Sophie carried in Emma’s Garfield mug. “Chailatte. I thought you’d appreciate it.”

  “Thanks.” Emma cleared a small space to let Sophie put the cup down among the recipe books, cards and handwritten notes swamping her computer. “You’d think my mother would wait until we’ve done the job before telling everyone she knows.”

  Another mug in hand, Sophie sat down. “No pressure.”

  Emma sipped her tea. “It doesn’t help that Nate’s closest friends have either cooked or eaten some of the best meals in the world. I looked up his gourmet group online and two Michelin-starred chefs are members. How do you think they’d like white truffle donuts and basil-infused snails?”

  “About as much as I would.” Sophie linked her hands on the desk. “I prefer the food my Chinese grandmother makes, simple but delicious. A few fresh ingredients, mostly from her garden, although she draws the line at snails. To her the main thing is all of us sharing the meal. Although that’s probably nostalgia speaking.”