Holiday Temptation

by Donna Hill

“A panic attack? You have got to be joking. Ross Montgomery doesn’t panic.” Ross ended his third-person statement by giving the young, pale-faced intern doing a spot-on Doogie Howser impersonation a withering look.

  “I, well, I’m sorry, Mr. Montgomery. But it’s what our data says,” Doogie stammered out.

  Ross turned to the nurse fiddling by his bedside, poking at him in a most uncomfortable way. She was brown-skinned and petite, with generous curves and alert brown eyes that seemed to miss nothing. Her bleached-blond, highly teased and sprayed bob was in sharp contrast to her deep skin tone. “Can’t you get me someone else, honey?” Ross asked, adding extra molasses to his deep bass. “The kid here obviously doesn’t know what he’s talking about. As a matter of fact, I’m waiting for my private doctor, Dr. Nair, to come in. Can you go and check on her?” Ross gave the nurse a quick wink and his killer smile. It was the same one that usually had women either melting or jumping to do his bidding. But his smile stopped midstream when he caught blondie’s brow raise and her sharp eyes go dead cold.

  “Save it, handsome. Neither you nor doc over here is giving out any orders. I’m on a schedule,” she said, sending a nod the young doctor’s way and getting tight lips by way of a retort. “Now hold still while I get your temp and take your pressure.”

  Ross suppressed a retort, thinking it wise to clam up and let the woman do what she had to do and move on. Besides, he could respect schedules and taking care of business.

  He opened his mouth for her to stick the thermometer under his tongue and dutifully gave over his arm. He knew when he was beat. He also knew going any further with the no-nonsense nurse would be a waste of energy. And he hated wasting energy. One of the things he prided himself on was being efficient. Efficient and a moneymaker. And right now, while lying in a hospital bed, being told that he indeed was not having what he could have sworn was a heart attack, when he was this close to closing a billion-dollar deal, he was being anything but efficient. Ross’s jaw tightened at the thought.

  “Hey there, Thor, you want to loosen up a bit so that I can get the thermometer back out.” The nurse—Ross looked at her nametag now—Nurse Edwards was directing this at him.

  “I don’t see why I need this,” Ross replied by way of mouth opening. “If it’s just a panic attack, you might as well let me go now and stop wasting all our time.”

  Dr. Doogie and Nurse Edwards shared glances, and then Doogie finally spoke up. “Yes, according to our preliminaries, it was not a heart attack but a panic-induced episode triggered, most likely, by stress and other contributors. If we could just go over your diet for the week? With some changes, there are ways to nip this in the bud before it becomes a bigger problem.”

  Changes? Ross inwardly bristled at the word. His life was perfect as it was. He was a successful businessman, well on his way to making the Forbes magazine list within the next few years. Who knew, not long after that, maybe even surpassing his father’s accomplishments, if not ever getting his esteem? He was rich, free, and single. There was nothing in his life that needed changing.

  Except Serenity.

  Ross frowned as thoughts of his four-year-old daughter came to his mind once again. He was thinking of her when the pain gripped at his chest as he was on the phone with his investors. And it was her he was thinking of when he was being hooked up to electrodes and beeping machines.

  When was the last time he’d seen her? It must be going on eight months now. Which was a huge hunk of a lifetime for a four-year-old, and with his current schedule he didn’t see a visit anytime on the horizon. Sure, he sent her extravagant gifts for her birthday, but he’d heard it in her voice during his last call that she was unimpressed. The gifts could have been from anyone. All she could do during their last conversation was go on about how much fun she’d had with her mom, Yasmine, and her new dad, Devon, during their recent trip to Disneyland.

  Hell, what did his daughter need with expensive gifts when Devon could give her the magic of Disneyland? Ross’s hands balled into fists.

  “Okay, Thor, there you go again. Your pressure is going sky high. That’s not gonna get you out of here any quicker, you know?”

  Ross gave Nurse Quick Mouth a hard look, which she countered back with one of her own. He was actually starting to admire her. Maybe he could find a place for her in his corporation. Lord knew she could freeze balls with that look.

  “She’s right, Ross, you need to relax,” his friend and primary doc, Misha Nair, came in saying as she pushed the blue privacy curtain aside.

  “I don’t need anything, but for you to tell Doogie over here to sign my discharge papers so that I can get out of here.”

  Doogie gave a cough and Misha pursed her darkly stained lips together, causing Ross to note her carefully applied makeup. He also took notice of the fact that she wore what looked like a black cocktail dress under her open lab coat and high stiletto heels. Though always polished, this was not the jeans-and-sweats Misha he’d been buddies with since college. She took his chart from Doogie and quickly gave it a flip through.

  “Did I interrupt a date?” he asked.

  Misha ignored him and continued reading his chart before finally meeting his gaze. “What do you think, Ross? I’m not having the hell pinched out of my toes for the fun of it. I should have ignored your messages, but that bulldog of an assistant you have never gives up. I was afraid he’d track me at the restaurant if I didn’t come over. Not that you weren’t in fine hands with Dr. Stein here.”

  “How would I know that? This guy says I had a panic attack, which I know is not true. I never panic.”

  Misha rolled her eyes as Nurse “No Chill, ” still not amused, shook her head and removed the pressure cuff, making her exit with a wry chuckle.

  “Ross, the numbers don’t lie.” Misha held up his chart. “These, along with your last physical reports from my office, are telling me it’s time to make some real changes, or the next time you won’t be so lucky, and it won’t be a panic attack.”

  Ross sat up straighter, while at the same time he tried dismissing Misha’s words. “Stop being so dramatic.”

  Misha moved closer and put her finger to his wrist to take his pulse. “Dramatic is having me pulled out of a dinner date, not that it was going anywhere. Freaking Internet can suck it. But smart is listening to your body and coming in to get checked out when you think something is wrong. Even smarter will be taking my advice. It’s time for you to make changes.” She looked him in the eye. “What exactly were you doing when this happened?”

  “Nothing,” Ross said as innocently as he could muster, which wasn’t that innocent at all. “I was in the middle of a business call, negotiating the terms of a deal.”

  “And?”

  “And what?”

  Misha dropped his wrist and shook her head. “And you mean for me to believe that you weren’t getting your pressure up as you were nailing some poor sap to a wall. What’s the rest?”

  Ross couldn’t help his grin. She did know him well. “And I may have been having a bite while I was leaving the gym after a workout. You know how working out and making deals gives me an appetite.”

  For that, he got a punch in the arm, and Doogie gave Misha a look this time. “Dr. Nair?”

  “It’s okay, Stein. Mr. Montgomery and I go way back. I’ll handle him.”

  Doogie shook his head, clearly annoyed at this dismissal. “Fine. He can go. Since you’re his primary, I’ll sign him over to you for the follow-ups with a consult to Dr. West in cardio.” He made a few notes in the chart and handed it off to Misha before leaving.

  Ross grinned and started to get up, but was stilled by Misha’s firm hand on his chest.

  “Not so fast. I didn’t discharge you yet, Ross.”

  “Come on, Mish. What are you playing at? I can still get in some calls out to the Far East if I go now.”

  “This is serious, or at least it could have been. It’s time to make a change. What did you have for lunch today?”

>   He frowned. “A pastrami from Sal’s.”

  “And the day before?”

  Ross gave her a look. She already knew it was the same, or a version of it. She knew his poor eating habits, but he balanced it out with tough physical workouts in the gym and twice-weekly boxing.

  Seeming to know what he was thinking, Misha spoke. “Before you say it, sorry your workouts are not good enough to make up for the crap you put in your body. You’re getting to the age where a workout can’t make up for high-fat foods and chips. We’re both not teens anymore.”

  “Fine, Mish, I’ll clean up my act. You’ll see.”

  “Bullshit those you can, Ross. Not me. And on top of it, you need to relax. You need a diet and a lifestyle cleanup. That’s food and meditation. Less work, less stress, better food, and less caffeine.”

  Ross balked. “The devil you say, woman?”

  Misha grinned. “Stop being such a big baby. It’s the holidays coming up. Now’s the perfect time. I want you to take a few weeks off and give the business a break.”

  Now it was Ross’s turn to laugh. “Sorry. I’ve got a deal and clients I’m meeting over the holiday. I’m taking my new boat out to wine and dine them. You want to come?”

  Misha glared. “Are you not hearing me? It’s time to change. Your numbers are a mess. Your arteries are clogging as we speak. This is urgent, Ross.”

  “I hear you. But I have to make this deal happen. I can’t let it go.”

  Misha shook her head, then looked at Ross dead-on. “What about Serenity?”

  “That’s not fair,” Ross gritted out.

  “I learned how to play from the best.”

  If it were anyone but his old friend, Ross would tell her off, or at least walk the hell out of there. But he couldn’t with Misha.

  “I’ll tell you what,” she said, reaching over to pull a small take-out box from her large tote, “though you interrupted my date, I did manage to snag dessert to go.” She popped the top on a good-looking chocolate confection with cream on top and picked it up, holding it to Ross’s lips. “Here, take a bite.”

  “What are you up to? First you want me to clean up my act and then you’re trying to fatten me up with dessert?”

  “Just shut up and listen for once. It’s made by a friend of mine. She’s a personal chef I met a few years back while on a yoga retreat. She specializes in low-fat, good-for-you food, and has really made a difference for quite a few of my patients.”

  Ross frowned at the mention of “low fat,” and prepared himself for a mouthful of sawdust. But to quiet Misha, he leaned in and took a bite.

  It was heaven. Soft and creamy, while rich and decadent. The flavors were sweet and sophisticated, calling him to reach for more.

  Ross looked up at Misha. “What did you say this chef’s name was?”

  Misha grinned. “I didn’t, but it’s Essie Bradford. Her food is amazing and you’ll never meet a sweeter, kinder, more Zen person. Let me call her. If she’s free, I know she’ll say yes. Essie just can’t say no to a friend, and she is a friend, so don’t mess it up,” she warned.

  He reached out and took the rest of the sweet from Misha’s hand and snagged another delectable bite. “If she’s half as sweet as this dessert, I’m sure we’ll get along just fine.”

  Chapter Two

  “You have got to be freaking kidding me. She sent back my soufflés? As if she would know a whip from a flake. I should go over there and tell her where she can shove—” Essie stopped short there, closed her eyes and did a few quick, deep cleansing breaths before she opened them again to see Trevor, one of the waiters, waiting with an apology in his kind eyes. Normally, he was all party-on and a quick gossip, but it would seem the nightmare from table twenty-three had taken the wind out of his sails, too. Essie not only wanted to give her a good tell-off for herself, but for Trevor as well. Besides, after getting home last night and practically tripping over her boyfriend’s packed bags, she was in the mood to lash out.

  Trevor raised a hand. “No, hon. I don’t think you going over there will do any good. You know, as well as I, that the dessert is perfect. She’s been complaining all night.” Trevor slipped a look to the woman at twenty-three, who stared back at Essie in the open-air kitchen with a smug now-get-it-right look.

  Seriously, some folks should not be allowed out in polite company without proper supervision.

  Who sent back perfectly good chocolate soufflés? Not to mention the complaint she had about Essie’s coq au vin, which had won awards. Heat rose in Essie’s cheeks, and it had nothing to do with the fact it was sweltering in the prep line of her friend Julian’s popular Westside bistro’s kitchen. She knew she had to tamp down on her emotions. One, because it went totally against the Zen, no judgment, live-in-the-moment lifestyle she prided herself on. And two, because the kitchen was open and a focal point, on display to all the diners. This was normally a feature Essie enjoyed, but tonight, being as tired and emotionally raw as she was, she’d rather be anywhere but here on display for the New York IT crowd.

  Essie had long told herself that if—no, when—she’d saved up enough money, coupled with the financial backing she needed to open her own place, she’d have a similar design. She was brought up to believe that the food prep was all a part of the dining experience and should be shared. Now, considering the nightmare at table twenty-three, who did nothing but complain about anything and everything, maybe that interaction would have to be rethought.

  Once again, Essie let out a calming breath. She really shouldn’t get mad at the terror on twenty-three. Though Essie knew the soufflé was perfect, she grabbed a clean spoon to take a taste to be sure before throwing the rest away, with regret over the wasted food. Yes, the soufflé was fine. Actually, better than fine, but it lacked a bit of her usual spark, and she blamed herself for that. She should have told Julian no, that she couldn’t fill in when he called, begging for her to cover for his usual head chef, who had an emergency. That’s what she got for always saying yes.

  Essie was exhausted and she knew it, having just come back home to New York from two months on the road as the private chef to an up-and-coming rock band. Six members, all with different tastes: one vegan, one veg, the rest true carnivores. It was quite the demanding gig. And no sooner was she back in her apartment, dropping her well-worn duffel on the floor, only to have them collide with the bags and boxes belonging to her ex-boyfriend, Cameron. She guessed if she hadn’t gotten in a few hours early, she may have found out about his planned relationship departure via text, which was his usual passive-aggressive modus operandi.

  No, she wasn’t mad at the complainer over at twenty-three. She was mad at herself for being so gullible and not seeing Cameron for what he was, a cheater with a penchant for large-chested, petite women and continuing far too long in a relationship she knew was ultimately going nowhere. She should have known something was up when he was the one to encourage her to say yes and take the job on the road with the band. Telling her how great the money would be, and how he’d come out to meet her on the road, which he never did. Damn that Cam. Always the user. They had met while in culinary school when he asked her to tutor him with sauce reductions.

  The thought pulled Essie up short. He was another “yes” that she should have said “no” to. Him, and the hims before. Always ready to use her up until a better option came along. So many yeses that started with hope, but then led to disappointment.

  Just as she should have said no to Julian, and it would have spared her tonight’s aggravation. Not to mention she could have been catching up on much-needed sleep. Yep, each time she put her own needs aside and gave in to the “yes” to satisfy others, it didn’t turn out well. She was over being everyone’s go-to “yes.”

  It was time she started living for herself.

  Essie let out a breath before stepping forward, reaching for another just baked soufflé and topping it with powdered sugar, extra berries, and a drizzle of chocolate. She looked up and carefully hande
d it to Trevor with a weary smile. “Let’s hope this time’s the charm.”

  Trevor let out a sigh. “I doubt she’d know charm if it landed in her lap.”

  As she watched him walk over to table twenty-three, the woman made brief eye contact with Essie. Her clear blue eyes met Essie’s own dark brown ones before she gave Essie a nod of triumph and took a bite. The woman smiled, a small, satisfied, smug grin, which made the hairs on the back of Essie’s neck stand up a bit, and had her biting the inside of her lip. But Essie let it go as Trevor turned back her way and gave her his wide grin and a little thumbs-up.

  People. Some just have to believe they’re that extraspecial snowflake or they’ll melt away to nothing. She shrugged, trying to let the encounter roll off her back. Who knew? Maybe Ms. Twenty-three had a bad day, or a bad month, or her boyfriend of two years did a dump-and-dash. Shit happened.

  Julian came and leaned over the counter, his piercing green eyes sparkling with both weariness at the late hour and excitement over the packed restaurant. “Essie, my love, thank you so much for filling in tonight and tomorrow. I know it’s been a madhouse, but you saved my hide, like you will never know. I owe you big-time.”

  “Yes, you do. I’ll add it to your list.” She smiled, now feeling bad for thinking so harshly of him. He’d always been a good friend, and the money from tonight would be a help, now that she didn’t have Cam’s money coming in to share the rent. Not that he wasn’t late, most of the time, anyway.

  The thought of Cam and money made her wonder if her dream of having her own place would ever come true. Back when she was with him, they talked about opening up a place together. She couldn’t help but wonder how she could do it alone now.

  Essie fought to push the thought aside. It was almost too much to deal with, just one day back and one day into the breakup. As of now, she’d operate as she had. At least he picked a good time. She was solvent and would not need to work until after the holidays, when she had more private jobs lined up. For now she’d do what she so very much needed to do for herself: a blissful holiday to think things over and sort out her life. One where she would not have to serve others, but, instead, visit with her mother and enjoy being the one who was fed, nourished, and treated right for a change.