by Donna Hill
Her eyes got that skeptical gleam once again. “Okay,” she replied with a shrug, turning away.
Ross crossed his arms. “You don’t take anything at face value, do you?”
She frowned and turned toward the city, staring a long time before turning back to him, her expression once again a mask of calm. “That’s not true. As a matter of fact, I take everything at face value. I’m the type of woman who believes what I see. I believe people show you who they are, and, as Ms. Angelou’s saying goes, when they do, believe them.”
She smiled brightly; then those full lips went wide and once again she showed that quirky armor-shattering space in her front teeth, which he found so endearing. But her statement said a lot. This woman had a history, and she’d also been hurt. For some reason Ross wanted to know more. He frowned then, about to question her, but she cut him off flicking her wrist and checking her watch.
“Look at the time. Quincy sent me your usual schedule and I’d like to take a little time to get to know your galley before I start to prepare lunch. Do you have anything you absolutely don’t like?”
Knowing this was the end of that particular conversation, Ross relented. “Never been a fan of asparagus or Brussels sprouts.”
“I’ll make note of that, sir.”
Ross frowned.
“What is it? Is it something else?”
“I also don’t appreciate you calling me ‘sir.’”
“Why? I’ve noticed everyone else does aboard the ship.”
“Well, you’re not everyone else. You’re working for me, but we’ve established we have a special situation, and since we share a mutual friend, can we, once and for all, get on a first-name basis and get a little less formal?” Ross didn’t know why he made this little speech. Maybe it was the way she held her arms so tightly together, or maybe it was the rigidity of her spine, or the way she tilted her chin up at him. But all he wanted in that moment was for her to soften her stance at least a little bit. If all he could do was get it in a name, then so be it.
It was crazy, he knew. But somehow looking at her, and the way she looked at him, Ross knew respect was not what he wanted from her. He wanted something different, something more. Something strangely close to admiration, approval, or maybe something even more dangerous. Something like affection.
Essie gave him that weary look once again, and then her eyes went soft at the same time something on him went dangerously hard. Oh, hell. She stuck out her hand and smiled. “I’m Essie. Nice to meet you.”
Ross’s lips quirked, feeling shy, an emotion he definitely didn’t welcome. He took her hand in his, enjoying the feel of its powdery coolness. “I’m Ross. It’s nice to meet you, too.”
Essie’s eyes narrowed as she pulled her hand from his, leaving him feeling slightly bereft. “Okay, I’m going to give you a warning. Now that we’re officially friends, there will be no holding back from me. I’m going to be as tough on you as Misha would be. Today starts the rest of your life. So remember you asked for it.”
Ross watched as Essie made her way from the deck and disappeared going toward the galley. “Don’t worry, Essie. I’m sure I’ll enjoy every moment.”
Chapter Six
Every moment? What the hell does he mean by every moment?
Essie made her way to the galley, wondering if Ross knew she’d heard his parting comment, and happily only getting turned around twice, which she attributed to the size of the boat and not her “Ross infatuation.” Freaking Misha. Sure, he would be enjoying every moment. He had a silly chef who mooned over his broad shoulders and smooth handsomeness at every turn. What was there not to enjoy?
Get your crap together, girl. None of her usual emotion-filled, wear-your-heart-on-your-sleeve ways. She had to be strong. She’d been burned one too many times by smooth-talking men to take anything they said at more value than playing a game, or playing her. She’d gone on long enough listening to her heart. It was the head’s turn to lead. And as for listening to regions farther south, which seemed to be blaring horns and trumpets when Ross Montgomery was in spitting distance, she was putting that area on mute, as it was not to be relied on for good advice.
When Essie got to the kitchen, Chef Scott was leaning against the counter, arms folded as if he was standing guard over his domain.
She smiled. “Hello, Chef. Once again, I hope you don’t mind me butting in on your domain. I’ll try my best to stay out of your way, but I may ask for a little help from you, as I’m new to finding out what Ross”—Essie paused—“I mean, Mr. Montgomery likes, and I’ve been charged to convert his diet to something a bit more heart healthy.”
She watched as the already-rigid chef drew his body even tighter and stood taller, while plumping his chest out.
“Do you mean to tell me there is something wrong with my food? Are you trying to say there’s something unhealthy about it?”
“Of course not,” Essie soothed. “I’m sure your food is top-notch, or there is no way you would have been hired to be the head chef on such an exclusive boat. I was brought on as a nutritionist and a consultant. My expertise has nothing to do with your capability. Like I was saying, I’m sure there’s plenty I can learn from you.”
“Oh, what do I care about how he spends his money? You are just another in a long line of more of the same.”
Essie bristled, but refused to bite, keeping her smile, but lowering her tone. “You’re right. It is his money, and I suggest you do your job, and start by showing me around the kitchen and pantry properly. I want to be sure the items I listed to be supplied are all accounted for.”
She and Chef Scott stared at each other, and once again Essie was up against a man she knew she could not back down from. But just when she thought he was about to break, a voice came from over her shoulder. “Why are you not moving, Simon? Like you said, it’s my money. What? Are you afraid you may learn something?” Both Essie and the chef turned around at the sound of Ross’s voice.
“I . . . I didn’t mean anything by it, sir,” Chef Scott stammered out.
Ross gave him a steely stare. “Let’s be sure you didn’t, because if you did, I can easily find other ways to spend my money than on your paycheck.”
“Why, yes, sir, of course.”
Essie saw the bloom of embarrassment take over the chef’s face and a hint of anger as he clenched his jaw.
“Ross, really, it’s all fine. Chef Scott and I were having a discussion about working arrangements. This is his kitchen, and he was showing me around.”
Ross shot her a look that was at once caring, but somehow dismissive, and the smile he gave her didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Now, in all actuality it’s my kitchen.” He turned to Chef Scott. “Am I right?”
The chef gave a nod of his head as his eyes went downcast. “That you are, and as you said, I’m sure there’s plenty for me to learn.”
Ross nodded then and smiled. It was that sexy and somehow dangerous smile that made Essie want to step away from him, when, at the same time, she wanted to step forward into his atmosphere.
He clasped his hands together, casually breaking the serious mood. “Well, then, I’ll leave you both to it. Essie, I can’t wait to taste what you have in store for me this afternoon.”
As he left, Chef Scott lowered his hands and let out an audible sigh. Then he shot Essie a look that, while full of disdain, showed his defeat. “You heard the man. This is his boat, his home, and, as of now, it looks like you’re the lady of the house.” He made a wide gesture with his arms. “What’s mine is now yours. So please tell me, how can I be of service to you?”
Chapter Seven
Though Ross was deep in conversation with his lawyer, he somehow felt Essie’s presence outside his office door, even before she gave it a knock. “Hold on a minute, Barry. Come in,” Ross said.
As Essie entered, Ross felt his body, his entire body, immediately spring to attention, like a trained Pavlovian dog. He couldn’t help but notice the look of surprise she tried
to hide at seeing the mess his office had become in the short time he’d been working. He was a bit of a manic worker and liked to spread things out, so just about every available surface was covered. There was no place for her to set the tray.
He watched as she did a little spin, which showed off her figure nicely, but as she came up empty, she turned back to him in frustration. “Barry, I’m going to have to get back to you. I’ll call you in a half an hour or so.” Ross cut off his call without waiting for a reply and got up from his seat.
Essie gave him a quick glare. “You didn’t have to do that. I need a place to put the tray, and then I’ll go so you can work.”
“Who said I was hanging up for you? Presumptuous, aren’t we, Ms. Bradford?” Ross gave Essie a grin. And he got back a hard stare.
“Not at all. I thought we agreed we were on a first-name basis, Ross. Now, do you care to let me know where to put the tray? It’s getting pretty heavy.”
Ross ran over and cleared space on the seating area’s coffee table. He then took the tray out of Essie’s hands, and fought to ignore the little spark of electricity that sizzled through him when their fingertips grazed. He had no time for shivers or sparks. He had a deal to get done, despite what Misha’s plans for him were.
“Thank you. I hope you enjoy it.”
Shit. Even her voice gave him shivers. All sweet and full of sass, but still with a hint of honey, even though she seemed mad as all get-out. “I’m sure I will. Now, tell me what it is. And while you’re at it, you can tell me why you’re ready to spit nails at me.” Ross took a seat on the couch and lifted the cover on the plate, giving it a look over.
His eyes popped up when Essie cleared her throat. “Lunch is a simple ratatouille. Eggplant, bell peppers, onions, zucchini, some tomatoes, all served over quinoa. And for dessert you’ve got a seasonal fruit plate with a vinaigrette dressing.”
Ross looked over the tray and frowned.
“What’s the matter?”
Ross gestured for Essie to take one of the chairs and watched as she seemed to do a double take before taking a seat, as if the chair would bite her or something.
“Okay. I’m sitting. What’s wrong? I’m here to serve you.”
Ross couldn’t help his raised brow at that last comment, and still she was as taut as a fully loaded slingshot. “Are you going to tell me what has you so stiff-lipped and fired up?”
“I don’t think I’m being stiff,” she said. “But what is slightly bothersome to me is the fact that I didn’t need you butting in when I was hashing things out with Chef Scott.”
Ross was quiet. It wasn’t as if she was wrong. He had been high-handed, but a guy like Simon needed to be pulled in, and pulled in quick, otherwise he could get out of hand. “I apologize for that. But as I said, this is my vessel, and I know Simon’s reputation. He can be a bit of a bully, and you are my guest. I wanted to make that clear, so he wouldn’t think anything otherwise. I will apologize, though. I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable in any way. If it was any other situation, I would let you handle it yourself. But since you’re my guest, I felt it was my duty to step in.”
Essie’s lips tightened. He could tell she didn’t like his high-handedness, but, hopefully, she couldn’t fault his logic. She looked over at Ross as he was eyeing the green smoothie.
“I see you are frowning. Is there something wrong with your lunch?”
Ross looked up, slightly bewildered. “There’s no chocolate.” He searched the tray again. “None of your chocolate puff pastry, chocolate tart, not even a hint of my favorite, your chocolate mousse.”
Essie gave him a long look before speaking slowly, as if he were a child. “First of all, man cannot live on chocolate alone.”
“So say you, but I beg to differ.”
Essie let out a snort, but at least he got a hint of a smile. “As I was saying, man should not live by chocolate alone. And how was I to know that you wanted it at every meal? Is that why you hired me, for my chocolate?”
His brow shot up and she blushed. A distinct rosiness radiated under her deep brown skin. She knew she walked right into that one, and it was cute as hell. Essie shook her head. “Really, Ross. Grow up. Besides, Misha would have my ass. There is no way she would sanction that sort of diet for you.”
“Why? It’s not like I need to lose weight. I’m in great physical shape.”
Essie looked him over then, and with her dark, assessing gaze, his old jeans and sweater suddenly felt about two sizes too tight.
“Okay, I’ll give you that,” she finally said. “You can have a bit of chocolate, but you need to up your fruit, too.”
He grinned at a small victory, then frowned again. “And I’m not really a fan of quinoa.”
“Please don’t tell me my newest client is a five-year-old. Misha warned me your taste in food was somewhat”—Essie paused—“shall I say, juvenile?”
“Hey, just because I like a burger now and again doesn’t make my tastes juvenile.”
“Fine. But if those burgers are from a fast-food restaurant that you’ve had your driver pull up to more than three times a week, I’d call that juvenile.”
Ross gave her a hard stare and she gave him one in return. He blinked and Essie grinned, no doubt enjoying her moment of victory.
“You know, nobody who works for me gives me so much grief.”
“Why am I feeling that nobody gives you grief if they work for you or not? Now pick up your fork and eat your lunch like a good CEO.”
Ross shook his head and did as he was told. Essie smiled, clearly enjoying the fact he was enjoying her food. She took pride in her work and he could respect that. For so long with him it always seemed to be about the bottom line, just numbers on a page. But when was the last time he really looked at the work he was doing? Took time to look and enjoy all he’d built?
“What is it now?” Essie asked.
He looked her in the eye, enjoying the moment of getting lost in their depths. “Nothing at all. This lunch is terrific, Chef.”
She grinned a wholly satisfied grin, which was nothing short of glorious on her.
“Well done. You can stop gloating. You know you did great.”
“You caught me. Later we’ll talk breathing and maybe some meditation?”
At that, Ross let out a growl and Essie chuckled as she got up to make her exit. “Okay, I won’t push my luck. At least not for today. I’ll see you at dinner. Don’t work too hard.”
“Don’t worry, I always do.”
As Ross watched Essie’s retreating back, and then headed back toward the phone, he was surprised by how much he enjoyed the banter with Essie. He couldn’t remember the last time he had fun simply talking to a woman, or anyone for that matter, about a subject that wasn’t business related. With her, talking came easy. And now as he picked up his phone and looked at the closed door, he found himself already looking forward to dinner and their next conversation.
Chapter Eight
Essie was laying out the dough for her puff pastries when Quincy came in with Ross’s discarded tray. “Well, it would seem your first lunch was a hit, Ms. Bradford.”
Essie grinned. “That’s good to hear, and please call me Essie.”
Quincy reached over and nabbed a strawberry from her bowl. “And you can call me Quince. So, what brings you here to sail away with our little crew?” Quincy made an exaggerated fanning motion. “You know, besides the fact that our fearless leader is the hottest eligible bachelor on the planet?”
Essie’s head shot up from her work. “That is definitely not the reason I’m here. I’m here to cook, and that’s about it. Just doing a favor for a friend.”
“Oh, my dear. You must have some really good friends. I need to hang with a better class of people,” Quincy said with a laugh.
Essie laughed along with him as Ethan, the bosun, came in, followed by Jayce, the deckhand, who lifted his T-shirt to wipe at his sweaty brow, despite the chill of the sea air outside. Essie ave
rted her gaze, but not before checking out his rippled abs. She bit back a giggle as she fought down a blush.
“Oh, darling, you have a lot to learn about us guys at sea. We are one big happy family on this boat,” Quincy teased, catching her look.
Cooper came over and gave her shoulder a squeeze. His crystal blue eyes sparkled with sweet charm. “That’s right, E.”
She grinned, already liking her new nickname.
“We all get along like peas in a pod here. All for one, and one for all. Those are the rules.” He dipped his pointer finger into her bowl of chocolate and took a long lick. “This is delicious!” He looked at his mates. “Guys, this woman’s food is as sweet as she looks. We’ve got a winner here.”
Essie gave him a smile along with a playful shove. “Watch those hands, Cooper. And definitely no double dipping.”
“All right, boys, that’s enough,” came Ross’s deep voice, stopping all conversation like a scratched record. “No dipping your fingers into my bowl without permission.” At the double entendre no one knew whether to laugh or not, so it was Essie who broke the tension, refusing to let Ross once again come into the kitchen and ruin what she was trying to build.
“You’d better be talking about these stainless-steel bowls, because if not, you’ll be meeting the hard end of one of my frying pans.”
Ross stepped down from the stairs and fully into the galley. Everyone was silent as Ross and Essie stared at each other. He raked his eyes from her eyes to her lips, down to her breasts and on to her hands, back up to her lips, then her eyes again. Each point he hit seemed to flame along his route. “Now, what else could I possibly be referring to?” he finally growled out before walking over to the fridge and pulling out a beer, twisting the cap and taking a pull.
“Sir, I could have brought that to you,” Quincy spoke up.
He gave Quincy an exasperated look. “I’m not helpless, Quince. But what you can do for me is prepare the small dining room.” He then looked at Essie again. “If you wouldn’t mind joining me there for dinner, Ms. Bradford?”
