“The Bancroft is the first hotel my family purchased. It’s the flagship hotel. The one we need to make an example for the rest of the chain.”
Irritated, she met his gaze. “Why not use the second hotel your family purchased? The Bayside Hotel in San Francisco is very similar to the Bancroft. Besides, you actually own that one.”
Instead of the anger she expected at her statement, his features lightened. “You’ve been doing research on me and my family?”
Dear God, the man was handsome when he wasn’t trying to manipulate her. “I’ll do anything I have to do to keep this hotel.”
“Anything?”
She frowned. “Don’t push me, Blake. I’m quite serious. This hotel and the people who work here mean everything in the world to me. I promise you, if pushed, I’ll go to great lengths, even if that includes enduring personal hardship, to keep the Bancroft and her employees safe.”
He locked gazes with her. “It might come to that,” he said, his tone no longer amused.
She stared at him, trying to get a reading on his mood and feelings, but the man was a brick wall. “I’m ready.” She turned her back to him and moved back up the stairs. “In the meanwhile, you are still obligated to spend the rest of the day with me. Prepare yourself for a long afternoon and evening in the kitchen. It’s time to prep for lunch, then dinner.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Felicity looked about the dining room of the Dolce Vita as her employees gathered with her at the big table in the back. She smiled, feeling at peace despite the fact Blake was seated next to her. His arm brushed against hers as he reached for his water glass. Once again awareness arced and all but crackled between them.
Mary Beth sat on Felicity’s left and leaned toward her, keeping her voice low. “How did the morning with Blake go?” She put a hand out for the large serving platter of gnocchi from Michael as the staff enjoyed their evening meal before they opened for the dinner crowd.
“I feel like I’m losing this battle before it’s even started,” Felicity said quietly, looking around the table at all those who made up her eclectic family.
Mary Beth passed the plate to Felicity. “Did you hear from the Seattle Historic Preservation Program?”
Felicity served herself, then, avoiding Blake’s gaze, passed the plate to him. Their fingers touched and her pulse quickened despite her attempt to keep her response under control. “Nothing yet.”
Mary Beth frowned. “Then what’s wrong, because something is?”
A knot centered in Felicity’s stomach as she slid her gaze to the man on the other side of her. He talked with Maria, one of the younger waitresses who sat across from him. The pretty girl smiled, her face animated as she hung on Blake’s every word. “Am I wasting my time trying to convince him of anything? While I drag him around the hotel and introduce him to the staff, a part of me feels like he’s just going through the motions, waiting for an opportunity to show me how little I know about hotel management. It’s frustrating.”
“I’m sure it is.” Mary Beth smiled. “You’re new to all this. But you’re a quick learner.”
Felicity frowned. “What are you smiling about? This isn’t funny.”
“You could always seduce the hotel out from under him.”
“Are you forgetting I already own the hotel?”
“Maybe he just needs encouragement to back off.”
“Or he’s stalling while he goes behind my back and prepares a whopping lawsuit.”
Mary Beth’s smile faded. “Can I give you some advice?”
Felicity nodded.
“Sometimes you have to trust people to do the right thing, or you can make yourself miserable while you look for demons that aren’t there.”
The words were like tiny nicks from a razor blade, and she flinched at each one. “We’ve both had enough demons in our lives.”
Felicity turned in Blake’s direction once more. This would be so much easier, if he were the monster she wanted him to be, but he wasn’t. “All right. I’ve tried worrying. Maybe it’s time to try a little trust.”
Neither of them said anything more. There was nothing else to do but to accept Mary Beth’s practical advice and see where it led.
At the thought, Felicity focused her attention on her sous-chef, who stood to explain the specials for the evening, while the others continued to dish up their plates. She found comfort in the routine. The staff would each take a turn describing the newest dishes, until everyone, from the dishwashers to the headwaiter, could explain each and every new wine and food item.
“Our antipasto specialty tonight is fiori di zucchini or fried zucchini flowers. The sweet, subtle taste pairs nicely with a glass of Prosecco,” Hans explained, gesturing with his hands in his usual flamboyant style.
All through the meal, Felicity was conscious of Blake at her side. After she’d shown him the wine cellar, there’d been a subtle change in his behavior toward her. She couldn’t quite put her finger on what the change was, but something was different. There was still the sexual awareness between them, but something else as well.
Acceptance? Contentment? Need? Could she label the golden warmth that flowed through her when he was near? Was it wise to allow herself to feel that way? She frowned at the reality of her situation. Wisdom wasn’t her top consideration every time a look, a touch, or a smile turned her from a rational human being into a mass of quivering need.
She should be furious with herself for letting him have this effect on her, and yet, if she were honest with herself, she was enjoying letting her guard down, just a little. Indulging herself couldn’t hurt as long as she didn’t act upon her feelings.
“What are y’all doing?” a feminine voice asked from behind Felicity. There was a beat of silence before the speaker’s identity registered in Felicity’s mind. She turned to look behind her at the same moment as Blake.
Destiny Carrow offered one of her chocolate-wouldn’t-melt-in-her-mouth smiles. Sweet and bitter at the same time. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”
Felicity noticed Blake’s eyes flare with interest as he took in Destiny’s formfitting black dress, black tights, and black boots. Only a silver chain about her neck and her bright red hair gave the woman any color. But color never seemed to be an issue with Destiny. Her words, both spoken and written, seemed to draw people to her.
Felicity shifted in her chair, stood, and faced her onetime friend. She tried to pull up the advice Vern had given her when Destiny’s scathing review had hit a few days before he died. He’d told her not to let Destiny inside her head. Doing that was more difficult than she’d imagined it would be, especially when Destiny’s gaze drifted to Blake and her interest flared. “This is a private event, Destiny. Didn’t you read the sign?” Felicity asked, her tone sharper than she’d intended.
Edward stood. A frown marred his usually cheerful face. “I’ll see her out.”
“Are you mad at me, Felicity?” The pleasure on Destiny’s face slowly faded. “You took my review of your restaurant wrong, didn’t you?” she asked in a low voice. “It was meant as encouragement.”
Felicity struggled to form a calm reply. She would not reduce herself to Destiny’s level. Even so, Felicity pinned her former friend with an angry gaze. “You have a right to your opinion. I’m glad my patrons feel otherwise.”
Destiny frowned. “If the review didn’t hurt your business at all, then what are you so upset about?”
“Why are you here?” Felicity asked, not wanting to continue the current line of their conversation.
Destiny pursed her lips and her eyes feasted openly on Blake. “I heard a rumor that I wanted to check out. Something about a handsome stranger coming to the Bancroft Hotel.”
Felicity held her breath as she, too, looked at the man beside her. A faint stubble covered his angular jaw, and even though he had ditched his expensive suit for the chef’s coat she’d given him to use while they’d been in the kitchen, the garment did nothing to hide his muscular che
st. He was disarmingly seductive. So much so that it made her mouth dry and her palms damp just to look at him. “We have visitors to the Bancroft all the time. It is a hotel, you know.”
“Ah, but this visitor is different.” Destiny tapped a well-manicured finger on her lips in a theatrical way. “The rumor on the streets is that Blake Bancroft is in town, and that he wants something that was given to you.” A cold, hard edge crept into her voice.
The soft sound of voices interrupted Felicity’s thoughts as her employees broke the silence that had descended over the room. “You know about the restaurant?” she asked, surprised that word had leaked outside the hotel so quickly and directly to Destiny’s ears.
“And the hotel.” Destiny’s eyes sought Felicity’s, daring her to deny the rumor.
“It’s true, but none of that concerns you.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. The public has a right to know about what’s happening at the Bancroft, especially with a nasty family fight brewing.”
Felicity ignored the barb. “You’re a food critic. Why would you want to do a story on what’s between Blake and me?” Felicity asked with a frown.
Destiny’s dark eyes sparkled. “I’m a reporter who works as a food critic. This story is going to launch my career as a serious journalist.”
Blake stood and handed Destiny his card. “If you want information about the hotel, Bancroft Industries’ public relations team would be happy to talk to you.”
Destiny took his card and slipped it into her purse. “A quote from you would make the story that much stronger.”
That’s all she needed, for Blake to have the press on his side of this issue. Felicity tamped down her anger. Giving vent to her emotions would only make things worse. “Please leave, Destiny. The restaurant isn’t open to the public yet. If you want to investigate, you’ll have to do it during our hours of operation.”
Destiny smiled, then turned to Blake. “Want to go find somewhere we can talk? You look like you could use a drink.” She raised a brow, waiting for a response.
Felicity tried not to react, pasting a bland expression on her face. Inside, she was reeling.
“This isn’t the time or place for an interview. As I said, you are welcome to talk to my PR team.”
Destiny removed a pen from her purse. She reached for Blake’s hand, turned it palm up, then wrote her number on his skin. “I’d rather hear from you,” she said with a sly smile. “Call me.”
“That’s it,” Edward erupted. “If you won’t leave on your own, I’ll escort you out.” He stepped between Felicity and Destiny, towering over the petite redhead.
Destiny took two steps back, but her chin came up and her eyes narrowed. “This isn’t over, Felicity,” she said as she turned and walked out of the dining area. Edward followed. Felicity supposed it was to make certain the food critic left the hotel.
At Destiny’s exit, the weight of disappointment settled in Felicity’s stomach, and she found it hard to breathe.
“What is going on between you two?” Mary Beth asked in the silence that stretched over the room.
In her heart of hearts, Felicity mourned the loss of Destiny’s friendship. She looked around the table at the concerned faces of her staff and forced a small smile to her lips. “Casper, I think it was your turn to describe tonight’s specials.”
Casper stood. A compassionate look crossed his features before he launched into his recitation.
Felicity heard not one word. Absently she traced the handle of her fork with her finger. What was it with this week? She’d received the best news of her life when Vern had given her the Bancroft Hotel, and yet everything seemed to be conspiring against her ability to enjoy his gift.
“Friend or enemy?” Blake asked as he slipped an arm across the back of her chair and leaned in, keeping his words between the two of them.
Blake’s fingers on her shoulder were warm and consoling, and she liked the feel of him pressed against her side. “Hard to say these days,” Felicity replied.
“Every successful business person has frenemies, you know. The onetime friends who seem to turn on you when you start to achieve success. I take it she gave you a bad review?”
Was he trying to make her feel better? “The worst.”
“Don’t let her get to you.”
Felicity stared down at the hand resting against her shoulder, the one bearing Destiny’s phone number. “She can hurt me, if you give her that interview.”
Blake gave her a lopsided smile. “I haven’t called her yet. Besides, I promised this day to you. And thanks to our time together, I now know how to peel and cook celery. We’ve had a tour of the hotel. You’ve used me as free labor in your kitchen. What’s next?”
She appreciated his lighthearted tone and his attempt to make her feel better. “This evening, you’re going to help me dress each dish before it leaves the kitchen.”
With his other hand, he reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I usually like undressing things better.”
Felicity felt her cheeks warm. “Wait until you see people eat what you prepared. There’s no feeling like it.”
His brow arched. “This I do have to see to believe.”
“By the end of the night, you will.” Felicity drew a slow, even breath, relieved that Destiny hadn’t stolen what Felicity had worked all day to achieve. She’d prove to Blake that the Bancroft was more than just a place to stay for a night or two or a place to dine. The Bancroft was a vital part of the community and a second family for everyone who worked within its walls.
At least that was what she hoped to prove before the night was through.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Blake leaned against the counter while he watched Felicity work in the Dolce Vita’s kitchen. She inspected each dish before placing it in the warming window for the wait staff to pick up and deliver to the patrons of the restaurant. He’d learned during the last two hours that working in a kitchen was as physical as it was choreographed.
“It’s like meshing a ballet with professional basketball,” Felicity had told him when they’d started working this evening.
She’d been right. He hadn’t worked this hard in a long time. He was exhausted after only two hours. How did Felicity do this every night? He pushed away from the counter and went to join her. She dressed a long, narrow plate with five ravioli. “What kind of ravioli is this again?” he asked, surprised that he really did want to know. He’d dined in many of the finest restaurants around the world, and yet the way Felicity blended flavors and textures in the dishes she served fascinated him.
“Butternut squash with cashews in a passion fruit vinaigrette and a coconut emulsion.” She handed him a sprig of fresh sage. “Tear off the leaves and sprinkle them across the plate.”
He did as she’d asked, but he couldn’t stop wondering about the woman beside him. “Why did you decide to be a chef?”
“Being a chef?” Her laugh held a brittle tone. “It’s a life that chooses you; you don’t choose it.”
Blake paused. It was the kind of answer he usually gave—the kind that politely revealed nothing. Which made him hunger to know more. “How much longer will the dinner rush last?” he asked as he stretched the small of his back.
“Tired already?” she asked with an arch of her brow.
“I’d be lying if I said no.”
She grinned and took the plate from his hands and set it in the pass-through window. “Hans?” she called to her sous-chef. “Will you take over?”
The younger chef nodded and set down the spoon he used to stir a large pot of marinara sauce. As Felicity stepped aside, he took her place, inspecting the dishes that were ready to be served.
Blake followed Felicity from the kitchen. “Your sous-chef is very obedient. All your employees are, really.”
“Sometimes,” she said absently. Then with a frown she added, “I don’t manipulate them if that’s what you mean.” Her posture became defensive.
He
raised his hands in a gesture of submission. “It was an observation, not a comment on anything.”
She nodded, accepting his explanation, then said no more, dismissing the subject. “Come with me, I want to show you the other side of working in the kitchen.”
They headed into the dining room. She stopped just out of sight of the patrons. “Watch them. This is the payoff for all our hard work.” She smiled as her gaze moved over the crowd. Every chair in the restaurant was filled and several more people waited in the bar area for tables to open. He looked from table to table, watching as diners sampled their food. He saw the plate of ravioli he had just garnished as it was delivered to a young woman in her early thirties. She thanked the waitress, then eagerly picked up her fork and took a bite of the handmade pasta, and groaned her pleasure. Enjoyment slid through him like a warm, magical elixir. And something inside him unraveled.
Felicity was right. It was almost better watching them eat than eating the food himself. “What’s next?” Blake asked.
“I thought we could talk,” she said with a soft smile.
At the soft curving of her lips, a warmth flowed through him. A feeling of connection, camaraderie clung between them, something new and fragile. He was loathe to let it go, but they couldn’t stand there in the dining room forever. “Talking it is. Here?”
She shook her head. “If we stay here, we’ll be interrupted by either the employees or the guests. How does the rooftop garden sound?”
“Great.”
Her face lit up and she smiled. “I’d like to get out of these clothes and wash off the scent of garlic, if you don’t mind.”
“Are you asking for help with the task?”
“No.” She chuckled, the sound both nervous and surprised. “Meet me there in twenty minutes. That is, if you still need more convincing about why the hotel should remain in my care.”
Flirting with Felicity Page 9
