by Ava Miles
He gave her a smile as warm as the tea. “I’m good at seeing the possibilities in a hand.” When he rose, he smoothed a hand down her hair. “And I’m looking forward to seeing you when you’ve brushed your hair. I’ll leave you now.”
“I’m sick,” she explained, wishing she had a hoodie sweatshirt on so she could flip it over her wild hair.
“You won’t always be.” He leaned down until their heads were close together.
“Everyone’s calling you a hero for helping Keith yesterday,” she said, testing him.
“I did what anyone else would. Get better. I’ll see you soon.”
As he said his goodbyes, Keith made him sign his cast. The signature was as bold as the man. Maven winked as he passed her on his way out the door. She could only marvel at the change in the room. Keith was happier. And she didn’t feel like she’d swallowed a block of ice.
Things were getting weirder and weirder. Part of her couldn’t wait to get better. She’d show him.
Brush her hair, indeed.
Chapter 25
Making Jill a fancy meal would be the perfect way to start their we’re living together agreement. He’d arranged for someone at work to swap shifts with him. He wanted to romance her, and then he wanted to make her moan.
He studied the perfect beige color of the mushroom veloute soup, hoping she’d like it. The mushrooms’ earthy smell blended perfectly with the fresh dill saturating his kitchen. Good soup needed to simmer so that all the ingredients came together. He’d take it to Jill’s later and finish it off with heavy cream. The Spanish chorizo and French bread he’d made would be the perfect accompaniment.
Someone knocked on the door, and he set the bamboo spoon aside to answer it. Mutt trailed after him, dragging his slobbery blanket. Time to face the music and trust his decision. He squared his shoulders and turned the knob.
Simca gave him a warm smile, her blouse buttoned this time—so far. “I got your message.” She breezed inside, her crimson pashmina shawl trailing like a matador’s cape.
“I’ve done some thinking, Sim.” He took a deep breath. “I need a little longer to make a decision about the restaurant.”
She made a moue with her red-painted mouth. “Ah. The new hotel has changed things, no? I wondered.”
The unfairness of his situation smarted all over again. He hadn’t expected to be denied possible employment in Dare. It was just another reminder he was damaged goods professionally.
“No, he won’t hire me,” he said. “He heard about what happened in New York.” He went into the kitchen and made them espressos. “That’s beside the point, though. Jill and I are together now. Moving to New York would mean leaving her. I’m sorry to ask for more time, but it’s a big decision.”
Her diamond necklace flashed when she caressed her throat. “I am sorry he won’t consider hiring you.” She took the espresso he handed her, sipped, and sighed. “Even so, the hotel adds all sorts of possibilities. What if I were willing to open a place here with you? This new hotel’s guests can’t eat on-site the whole time they’re there. I want to work with you, Brian. Help you restart your career. We don’t have to go to New York. It won’t have the same cache, but Aspen and Breckenridge have made it work. We will make people come to us.”
He placed his coffee on the countertop carefully so it wouldn’t spill. “Are you serious?”
She shrugged. “I could stay here for maybe two, three years. Ensure it’s established. Then I would turn it over to you.”
A place here. Of his own. Near Jill. “Tell me you’re joking.”
She shook her head, making her honey-blond hair sway like willow branches. “I told you how badly I want to make amends. Plus, this little town has its charm. I’m finding it rather nice to be away from New York’s high-pressured culinary scene.”
He had gotten so used to fighting for everything lately, it felt incredible to have this offer fall into his lap. “I don’t know what to say.” His heart pounded. “You do realize that even if you stay, I still plan to be with Jill.”
“But of course. Now say yes.” She laughed, caressing her fur-clad purse. “Or at least that you’ll think about it.”
His jaw locked. God, how he wanted to say yes on the spot. Then he thought of Jill. How would she feel about him going into business with his ex-lover in Dare?
Not good, he expected.
And they’d agreed to see if they could ‘gel.’ His idea.
“I can almost see it,” she continued. “We’ll create an innovative menu that bridges the East Coast with the West, combining elegance with rugged individualism.”
His mouth watered. “It’s an incredible vision.”
She lifted her chin in that playful way of hers and cocked her head. He had a flashback to a time when he would have kissed her on the spot. “And I’ve only just started.”
He picked up his cup and took a sip, realizing that working with her would be a minefield of complications. But the magic? The way they saw and created food? Well, the temptation to give it a go and deal with the complications called to his soul.
“Like I said before, I’ll need some time to think about it. Would you be willing to wait until the city council vote on the new hotel? My…life is tied to it.” That was all he was going to say.
“I understand. I’ve heard Jill is temporarily working with the owner.” She set her cup aside. “I don’t have to get back to New York right away. You’ll have your own thoughts about the menu, of course. I can already see the food review on the restaurant. We’ll show Andre. No one puts us down.”
He led her out and didn’t stop her when she kissed him on both cheeks. “This is our chance, chérie.”
When she left, he sank onto the couch. Could he really have it all? If he could win back Jill’s trust, would she be okay with him going into business with Simca?
Mutt head-butted his leg. A bitter laugh sputtered out. It was easier to imagine Jill smacking him than accepting that option with open arms.
***
No amount of working with Mac could keep Brian’s imminent move out of Jill’s head. Thoughts of them being together tantalized her. But she persevered, planning with Mac like a woman possessed.
Since his office wasn’t ready yet due to the accelerated timetable, they used her coffee shop as their headquarters. From time to time Margie would rap on her office door to announce a local VIP’s presence, and Jill would introduce him or her to Mac. He shook hands and smiled, selling his vision like a true politician but without the creepy fakeness. The guy was a natural marketer and knew how to make people feel like they were the only thing in the world that mattered. She’d only changed a few items in his spiel.
She made calls, inviting various people to lunch or dinner. The city council meeting was in less than three weeks. The vote took front and center.
Tanner strolled through the door, interrupting her thoughts. “Hi there,” he said, pulling off his gloves. “I was hoping to meet the man that came to my nephew’s rescue and survived my sister pulling a fake gun on him. I’m Tanner McBride.”
Mac rose in one smooth line like he’d been doing for the past hour, meeting everyone from locals to graduate school professors with apparent ease.
“Mac Maven. Good to meet you. I’ve read your articles. Please, join us. I was happy I could help your sister and nephew.”
“You have my deepest thanks.”
The men shook hands. Firm grip. Brief clasp. Jill liked watching the testosterone clench. Handshakes told a lot about people. Here were two self-assured males.
Tanner leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Hi, Jill.”
“Finally getting around to me, are you? We’re only related.”
He squeezed her shoulder and then took a seat beside them. “We’ve had more people than usual visiting The Independent today. Lots of chatter about the hotel development you’re proposing, Mac.”
“Good chatter or bad chatter?” Jill asked, tucking her leg under her.
“Great,” Jill muttered. “I’m being disowned.”
“I’ll have to pay you more,” Mac mused.
Tanner chuckled and reached for Jill’s paper coffee cup. “Arthur’s old fashioned when it comes to objective journalism.”
“Jill, would you mind giving me some time with Tanner?” Mac asked. “I’m a real admirer of your articles.”
Tanner turned away from Jill, but not before giving her a wink. “That’s always nice to hear.”
“You have an incredible ability to help people who’ve never been in war visualize it.”
Mac had her brother-in-law’s full attention, so Jill slipped out of her chair. God, she didn’t want to tell him about Brian moving in with her. Heck, she didn’t want to tell anyone in her family after the way they’d acted.
“I’m sure it’s nothing like the real thing, but…”
Mac’s voice faded as she headed for the counter. Time for dueling espresso machines, she decided. Nothing shut her mind down like the competition.
“Okay, let’s see who gets the prize today,” she announced as her customers crowded around to watch.
She beat Margie by five seconds. “Someone’s been practicing.”
“It’s my life’s dream to beat the boss.”
“Hah!” Yanking the dish towel from around her waist, she sailed over to Mac and Tanner and took a bow.
“Pretty impressive,” Mac commented. “I would never have thought of it.”
“Not everyone can do pianos. The locals love it.” She handed Tanner his favorite coffee, and plopped down into a chair. “Since you haven’t ordered yet.”
“Thank you.”
He saluted her with the mug. “To dueling espressos.”
The dueling reference made her think of Peggy. She would have been a kick-ass sheriff back in the Old West. She turned to Mac. “Hey, whaddaya say we go see Peggy and Keith? I’ve been wanting to drop in since I heard about his accident. Poor kid.”
“Wonderful. I can give Peggy the statistics on crime at my hotels.”
“You have crime?” Jill blurted out, making people’s heads turn.
He cleared his throat. “No, compared to the major gambling hotels, we have a very low incidence of crime and zero tolerance. I’m just hoping to reassure her.”
Tanner rubbed his jaw. “Peggy’s impressions…won’t be easily swayed.”
Mac must have heard the same warning in Tanner’s voice as Jill did. They both turned to stare at him.
“Anything you want to share?” Jill asked.
He rose quickly. “No, brother’s privilege. Peg’s opinions are her own, and I respect them.”
Mac also stood and put out his hand. “I don’t expect her to change her beliefs. All I want to do is make her feel better.”
Tanner took it and nodded. “Good to meet you, Mac. Jill, I’ll be seeing you.” His hand gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze.
“Can’t wait,” she replied breezily. “Tell Mere and Gramps hello.”
When he left, Mac sat back down and finished off his coffee. “Are you serious about going to see Peggy?”
“Yes.” He might be a famous poker player, but even she could see the speculation in his eyes.
“Great. I can’t think of anything I’d like to do more.”
She waved at a group of newcomers. “I’ll go get my purse.”
Eyeing the clock in her office, she picked up the purse. In the silence, the hands ticked like an old-fashioned bomb in a Rocky and Bullwinkle cartoon.
She and Brian were going to have sex in a few hours.
He was moving in with her for almost three weeks.
She was trying to convince the town to reinstate gambling.
Could her life be any more complicated? All she wanted to do was get in her car and head out of town. She took a couple of deep breaths.
What she needed was serious mental discipline—the kind Depak Chopra talked about—to drive out any bad thoughts when they were together. Like anything related to the French Barbie doll and her perfect body and honey skin. Why did some older chick in her forties have the beauty edge? No, they had made a rule. No outside talk.
Nothing was more important than finding out if they could be together.
Chapter 26
Peggy McBride wished she really could cart her germs off to jail. But while bad guys bowed to her wishes, germs were immune to her threats. They knew about torture, though—oh yes, they had that down to an art. As far as she was concerned, having an electric prod shoved into her chest couldn’t be as painful as this cold.
Thank God, Keith had wanted to go to school today. He was planning on showing off his bright blue cast—and his new bike helmet. She owed Mac Maven a sliver of gratitude for her son’s transformation. Not that she’d tell him.
When someone knocked on the door, she wished for one of those door intercom thingies. Then she could tell whomever it was to go away because she was dying. When the person resorted to pounding, she dragged herself out of bed and staggered down the stairs, holding onto the rail in a vise-like grip.
Jill and Mac’s presence at her door made her think the germ torturers had called in some back up. She was so not up for visitors.
“Are you that sick?” Jill asked, rushing forward and putting her hand against Peggy’s forehead.
“Ouch,” she replied, pushing Jill away.
“You don’t seem to have gotten any better,” Maven said silkily, shutting the door.
“I’m not. You should leave me to die in peace. These germs are diabolical.”
Maven took her elbow. “Where’s your gun? We’ll threaten them.”
She didn’t care if he was leading her. “Done and failed. I’ve lost the war.”
Jill circled to her other side and wrapped her arm around her waist. “You haven’t lost. You just need rest. Lots of it. I told you you’ve been pushing yourself too hard.”
Peggy all but fell on the couch in the family room. “Stop gloating.”
Her friend eased against her side and patted her arm. “I’m not. I’m worried about you. You should go to the doctor.”
The chills were starting again, so Peggy reached for the discarded blanket on the unvacuumed floor. Maven nudged her hands away and tucked it around her.
“I did. This morning. Sat there coughing and blowing my nose for two and a half hours, shaking from chills like everyone else. When I finally saw the doctor—for five minutes, mind you—he said it was a virus like Keith’s. Nothing he could do. It’s like I’m terminal or something. Pull the plug.”
“Let’s hope it’s not that dire,” Maven murmured, sitting on the couch’s arm.
Being flanked by these two struck her as strange. Then she remembered Jill was working for him. The hotel. Poker. She wished she felt better. Not a single snarky comment came to mind. Damn congestion.
“How’s Keith?” Jill asked.
“Better. Your helmet worked like magic,” she said to Maven. “He couldn’t wait to show it off at school. He’s been shooting bad guys all over this house. Makes me proud.”
Maven gave a throaty chuckle, somehow warming. “I’m delighted to hear it.”
“What helmet?”
“Maven gave him a Woody helmet from Toy Story. ”
Jill gave an “ah,” and then shifted in her seat. “The person who named that character was all about sexual innuendo. I mean, ‘woody?’ Tell me there’s not some adult joke hidden in there. And he’s packing a pistol.”
“Just don’t mention that to Keith,” Peggy mumbled, laying her head against the back of the couch. “I know why Jill is here. Why are you?”
“I’m here to usher in more miracl
es,” he said with a wink. “A glimmer of the direct, tough Peggy is already coming back.”
He produced an envelope from his tailored navy coat jacket. She tugged at her own wrinkled shirt. Did he always have to look so presentable?
“Here’s a copy of our laudable crime statistics and the security policy for our hotels. I hope they’ll reassure you I won’t turn Dare into some seedy town run by mobsters.”
Jill had the audacity to laugh out loud. “If you do, can I have one of those fun names like Red Curls Jillie?”
Maven joined her, his throaty laughter making her head pound. “Sure, and we can name this one No Bristles Peg.”
Covering her face didn’t make them go away. “Stop talking about my hair.”
The two of them muffled their laughing. “I’m only going to be more wowed than I already am when you finally feel well enough to brush it.”
There was a moment of silence. Peggy peeked through her fingers. Jill was watching Maven like he was a puzzle. He gave her the hairy eyeball.
“Oooh-kay, ” Jill finally said like she’d uncovered a new clue in a crime. “So, what can we do to help?”
“Maven, make yourself scarce for a minute. I want to hear how Jill’s doing.”
He set the envelope on the one clear space on the coffee table. There was junk everywhere, but who cared? It’s not like she had a maid. He probably did. He owned a hotel, so he had a whole fleet of maids.
“Mind if I tour your house?”
“There’s not much to see, but…sure.”
As he moved out of the room with that easy, confident stride, Jill made a humming sound. “He likes you.”
Peggy put a hand to her forehead. Her brow still felt feverish. “No, I pulled a gun on him—or a stick. He’s intrigued.”
“I don’t think so. Why won’t you call him Mac?” she asked, all innocent-like. “Maven is very formal, Peg.”
So not going there. “Nuh-uh. Tell me about you and Brian.” Even to her ears, her voice sounded terrible. Like she’d stuffed a sock puppet down her throat.
“Ah…” Her friend leaned closer to whisper. “We’re…moving in together.”
