by Ava Miles
Jill met her gaze. “Fine. We can talk in my office.”
The change in the crowd couldn’t be more noticeable. The rowdy fun fizzled, and her customers’ sudden silence made her cringe.
She led the way, the ice-pick taps of Simone’s shoes echoing on the hardwood floor. When they were both inside, she shut the door and headed for her chair.
Simone stood, hands on her cover-model hips. “I wanted to tell you I only have Brian’s best interests at heart. I am here to make amends for what happened in New York. He’s an incredible chef. He should not waste his talents in this small town. I hope you will not try and keep him here.”
Oh, yeah, this woman was not to be underestimated. “That’s up to Brian.”
“Yes, it is. If he returns to New York, I will do everything in my power to convince him that we are made for each other. Of course, you dislike me. That is no surprise. I feel the same way.” The woman fingered the white tips of her manicure—French, of course. “But you need to understand. Brian loves cooking. If he is not able to do it the way he desires, his spirit will die. How would you feel if you were responsible for that?”
Guilt. Manipulation. This woman knew how to wield her weapons. “You’re one to talk. If you had stood up for him in the first place and offset your partner’s accusations, perhaps he wouldn’t be where he is now.”
Simone made a humming sound. “That is true. I am doing what I can to rectify that now.”
Her Good Samaritan act pissed Jill off. “Why don’t you date men your own age?” Sheer jealously got the better of her.
“You are so provincial. Brian is an amazing man. Why would I let something as meaningless as age stand in the way?” Then her eyes narrowed. “To answer your question though, it’s rather Pygmalion. There’s nothing better than helping a man grow into the person he wants to be—and the chef, of course. And then, of course, there is that youthful sexual stamina…”
She wanted to hurl her stapler between the woman’s eyes. “I think you should leave now.”
Simone stroked her purse’s strap and made a tsking noise. “Surely, you see what a waste it would be for him to stay here. He needs to go back to New York and fight my ex-husband. Take back his rightful place at a Michelin restaurant. I can make that happen.”
What? Jill’s head roared like an espresso maker’s steam valve was jammed in her ear. “Your ex-husband?”
“Oh, what a terrible slip of the tongue. Brian asked me not to say anything.”
Her thoughts shifted in slow motion. Suddenly it all made sense. “Let me make sure I understand this. Brian had an affair with you at the restaurant you owned with your husband? ”
“Oui,” Simone responded in that breathy voice.
She stood up even though her knees wanted to give out. How could he? After all the damage Meredith’s ex had done, she hated cheaters with a passion. Everything she knew of him was being shifted upside down like sand in an hourglass.
“See, there are things you still don’t know about Brian.”
No kidding, and it hurt beyond belief. Jill looked down at her desk, unable to reply. What could she say?
“If you care about him, you will encourage him to leave. That is what I came to tell you.”
She stared at the woman for whom Brian had destroyed his life. “Let me be clear, as you said. You didn’t come here today to ‘persuade’ me to free Brian. You came here to make sure I knew your relationship was an affair.”
Her icy blond hair swished against her shoulders when she shook her head. “As I said, it was a slip of the tongue.”
“I’ll bet. Get the hell out of my office. It’s Brian’s decision. It always was.”
“If you hold him here, he will come to hate you.” Simone walked to the door.
Hadn’t she already thought about that? “Just get out. Now.” Jill gripped the edge of the desk with white knuckles.
“It’s nothing personal, you understand. He has outgrown you and this place.”
How come people always said it’s nothing personal while they destroyed your world?
French Barbie finally left the room, and Jill curled back in her chair. The picture of them laughing together on their Valentine’s Day picnic mocked her. They looked so happy, a thread of familiarity and longing visible in the way they embraced and gazed into each other’s eyes. She remembered how unselfishly he’d pleasured her. Her lips trembled, and like ripples in a pond, the tremors spread to the rest of her body.
“Oh, God,” she whispered.
Her renewed sense of control over her life melted like butter left out on a sunny counter.
Chapter 19
Jill turned onto her street and saw Brian’s SUV parked in front of her house. How dare he come here after his shift and uncover her spare key? She’d wanted more time to process Simone’s revelations and bury her hurt and anger, but he was not going to force her away from her home. After leaving her car, she increased her stride, rage growing inside like a thunderstorm.
Aromatic smells assaulted her nose when she let herself in. Usually the intoxicating smell of garlic, onion, and tomato would reduce her to a drooling puddle. She firmed her shoulders. Did he think a homemade meal could erase what had happened? He must be insane.
Brian came out of the kitchen and made a beeline for her. His arms clamped around her, lifting her to her toes. “Thank God, you’re back. Jesus, you scared me. Don’t you ever do that again!”
Struggling in his embrace, she shoved at him. “Stop this!”
“Don’t you ever disappear on me.”
“I don’t—”
“Jesus. Before I found out you were in Denver, I imagined you lying at the bottom of some canyon after hitting some black ice. Dead like Jemma.”
She stopped struggling, sensing the raw emotions radiating from him. She was angry, but not cruel. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”
“Well, you did. Took twenty years off my life. Dammit, Jill. How could I not be worried after the way we left things?”
Stepping away was her only form of protection. This didn’t change what he’d done. “You shouldn’t have made yourself so at home.”
His mouth tightened. He lowered his arms from her waist. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know what else to do. You wouldn’t return my calls, and I didn’t want to sit in my car like some stalker. I… I needed to see you. I…Jill, you scared the shit out of me. It felt like when I left Dare after high school, and you wouldn’t return any of my calls.”
Her pain rose swiftly. Here he was, standing in faded jeans that hugged his gorgeous legs and a simple navy zip fleece over a white T-shirt. His beauty stole her breath away. The face she knew and had caressed with love—the thick brows, silky eyelashes, and square jaw—seemed the same. Yet, with the evening’s revelation, he was a stranger.
“How could you?” she whispered.
His whole body paused like a movie frame. “Dammit! They said they wouldn’t tell you.”
She threw her purse down on her orange couch. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
His jaw clenched. “Your family. They did some sleuthing and called me over for a Hale smackdown.”
It clicked. Her hands turned to ice as her internal temperature dropped. Her family? They knew about the affair? Of course they did—they were reporters, they looked into everything. She wrapped her arms around her middle, a new hurt spreading.
“Wait.” He grabbed her. “If your family didn’t tell you, who did?”
She met his gaze without flinching. “Your lover.”
“Ah, fuck.” He pulled her to his chest again before she could evade him. “I’m sorry. Is that why you disappeared? Jesus, I didn’t want you to hear about it from anyone but me.”
Self-deprecating laughter bubbled up. No, it hadn’t been why she’d left, but that didn’t matter now. She pushed back. “Don’t you mean you didn’t want me to hear it at all? Isn’t that why you lied?”
He gripped her shoulders, holding her
in place. “Dammit, can you blame me? I knew how you’d feel.”
And that made it right? “I’m dying to hear this one.”
“You’re afraid you don’t know who I am. That you can’t trust me.”
“Bingo,” she snapped.
His hands squeezed. “I was going to tell you, but then we made love, and we fought. I was scared, okay? It was so not the time to tell you another horrible thing about me. When you disappeared, I finally realized how I feel about you. I knew I had to tell you everything when you came back.”
When she yanked her arms away, his grip firmed, making her struggle all the more. “Oh, so you know how you feel, do you? Why don’t you tell me since I still don’t have a clue?”
He took a deep breath, eyes as blue as a stormy ocean. “I love you, Jillie. All the way.”
He could say that now? His words shredded her heart. “How can I believe you after what you kept from me? I don’t feel like I can believe anything you say anymore.” She jerked away. When he wouldn’t let go, she struggled. “Stop it!” Her arms strained. “I want you to leave.”
He angled them over to the couch, pushing her down with his weight. “Dammit, I don’t want to hurt you. Stop fighting me.”
“Let go of me,” she growled, kicking at his legs.
He pressed his forehead to hers. “Please don’t ask me to do that. I can’t do it again.”
“Too bad.” Jill tried to wiggle away. “I don’t want you anymore,” she lied, desperate to make him leave.
His sigh blew over her face. “Yes, you do. We both want each other so bad we can barely stand it.”
She shifted her lower body away from his arousal. “Yes, I can feel that,” she snapped and tried to shut out the terror that she could want him so badly—even after everything she’d learned.
He rubbed his forehead against hers, the gesture charged with longing. “That’s not what I meant, but Christ, there’s that, too.” When he lifted his face inches away from hers, his expression utterly naked, her heart squeezed. “I love you. That’s why this hurts so much. I don’t want to lose you over this, Jill. I want a second chance.”
She’d already given one to him, and she couldn’t bear the thought of another. “I was offered a job in Denver. I’m thinking about taking it.”
He blinked, the spell of longing turning to confusion. Then he flinched. “What the fuck are you talking about? Denver? That’s why you were gone?”
She took a few breaths, realizing she’d misspoken. No shock given the way her head was buzzing. “The interview was in Denver. The job would be here.”
His bemusement gave her the chance to free herself from him and slide into a chair across from the purple coffee table.
He rubbed his hands over his face as if unbearably tired. “So, just like that, you don’t want to talk about going into business together anymore? I told you I needed time. What about me loving you?”
“It’s not like waving a magic wand and deleting the past. Simca’s changed everything.” Her fingers clutched a pillow in her lap. “I’m starting to think you were right from the start. It’s not a good idea to mix business and pleasure. Anyway, we’re not in a good place right now.”
His face shuttered. He threw a navy pillow against the wall, hitting the African mask there. She trembled as he slowly rose to his feet.
“Let me take the food out. It’s going to burn.”
She followed him, shaking down to her toes. “I hate that I feel like I should say I’m sorry.”
The pan crashed on the gas grates when he flung it down. Lasagna steamed violently, bubbles of cheese and sauce casting a spell like a magic cauldron. The oven door slamming sent a tremor through her. He threw the pot holders off like they were boxing gloves.
“Why, Jill? Tell me how you really feel. Let’s get it all out in the open.”
Fine. No reason to dance around it when the hurt was this great. “I don’t trust you anymore,” she cried, clutching her chest. “The Brian I knew wouldn’t have an affair with a married woman, and he wouldn’t keep it from me when his cougar ex contacted him. Don’t you see how this looks?”
He planted his feet. “Fuck that. The Jill I know wouldn’t go to a job interview without telling me and then do a one-eighty on wanting to explore opening a restaurant without discussing it with me first. At least I told you about Simca’s offer.”
“Don’t try and compare the two. I only reconsidered his offer because your French Barbie came to town. I wanted to tell you the other night, but…we made love. I forgot.” She nearly winced at that last sentence.
“So you held back too.” His brows slammed together like two cars in a fender bender. “Wait. This wasn’t the first time you talked to this guy? Why didn’t you tell me before?”
He thrust the salad he’d made into the refrigerator. Slam. The violence made her vibrate like a tuning fork.
Was kicking a chair a reasonable reaction? “Because I wanted to explore our idea first.”
“Bullshit. You ran away instead of working things out between us.”
She pointed to herself. “I did? You’re the king of walking away. Who left after high school?”
He blew out the stubby candles on her farm table in the kitchen nook. She noticed the flower arrangement of baby’s breath, pink roses, and yellow daisies. He’d even arranged the napkins in some S-like shape. His romantic gesture moved her to tears, but it didn’t change the facts.
“You’re never going to forgive me, are you? These last few weeks were a blip on the screen, weren’t they? One big blip, and we fall like a house of cards. What a friendship. What a relationship. I made a mistake and you just drop me.” His voice was angry, but she could hear the hurt in it too.
He strode out of the kitchen, the force brushing her skin like a departing train on a platform. She turned and followed him.
“I’m sorry,” she said, turning him around to face her.
“So am I.”
They both stood breathing hard.
He rubbed his brows. “Will you at least promise to tell me if you’re late? It kills me that I have to ask.”
Late? It took her a minute to realize what he meant. Suddenly, it was too much. She covered her face and turned away.
His arms wrapped around her from behind. “I don’t want it to be this way, Jillie.” He pressed his cheek against her and rocked them back and forth.
“I don’t either, Bri,” she cried. It was like losing him all over again.
“Tell me what I can do to make things right,” he whispered in a hoarse voice. “I don’t want to lose you. Forget the restaurant, forget the job offer. Tell me how to make things right with you.”
Since she knew how important his career was to him, his entreaty moved her deeply. She gripped his arms and then untangled them, turning around. His eyes shone with unshed tears—a rare sight. “Are you sorry?”
“More than you could ever know.” His gaze never left hers. She rested on the ancient shaggy green loveseat’s arm.
“I…liked her a lot. Might have loved her. I don’t know. It was intense. I know you don’t want to hear that, but I’m not going to hold back anymore. She was different from any woman I’d ever met.” He gestured with his hands as if to include Dare in his comment. “She’d trained at the Cordon Bleu. Traveled through Europe for the best ingredients. Gone truffle hunting in southwest France for fun. Knew some of the world’s best chefs.”
“And she was beautiful,” Jill supplied, her insides shrinking like cellophane near a gas flame.
“Yes.” He lifted his head. “I won’t lie and say the physical attraction wasn’t strong.” He tugged on his fleece’s zipper, his hands jumping. “It’s tough to talk like this to you.”
Suddenly, she split down the middle. The Jill who loved him retreated to somewhere deep inside. The other Jill, his friend, continued to listen.
“I wanted her. She was so confident in her sexuality, and despite how much guys like to brag, I wanted that
confidence. I’d been with girls, but she was…a woman. I don’t know how else to say it. Do you understand?”
In some remote part of her, she realized she was nodding. Inside, she wanted to scream I can’t listen to this. I can’t take anymore.
“Somehow lust and professional enjoyment cluttered my mind. She told me they were separated, and when I found out that wasn’t strictly true, I let her convince me that it didn’t matter. I should have broken it off. But she was miserable with him, and we were happy. We worked well together. It all got tangled up.”
When he sank back into the couch, he looked about as tired as he’d been when he’d come over to her house in the first few days after his parents announced their divorce.
Best to hear it all. “Who finally told him?”
He ran his hand through his hair. “I don’t know. He found out when he came back from setting up their new restaurant in Paris. That’s why we weren’t caught earlier. He was gone for six months.”
Jill reached for the green afghan, the emotional whirlwind making her body temperature plummet.
“He fired me in front of the whole kitchen staff and told me he’d make sure I never got a job at a decent restaurant. He said his recipe box disappeared that night. There were questions by the police, but nothing stuck.”
The friend in her couldn’t imagine how horrible that must have been for the boy she’d grown up with. She touched his arm for a moment, but then let her hand fall away.
His right leg was restless, dancing in place. “I didn’t believe Andre’s reach was as broad as he’d implied, but after my tenth job query, I gave up. His accusation had made me a pariah. My whole life was a fucking mess. I decided to regroup. I could have gotten a job in some two-bit place. But when it came down to it, I needed to come home.” His eyes shone brightly when he met her gaze. “I was lost, Jill.”
And devastated, her heart told her. Hadn’t she read that from the beginning, but had been too angry to acknowledge it?
“I wanted to put things right between you and me. You…”
He looked away, fingers clawing at his jeans. The silence made her body tighten. When he turned back, the force of him pushed her back in her seat. “You haunted me, Jill.”
