One More Taste

by Melissa Cutler

  “She’s seducing you.”

  Not even close. He was the one who’d crossed the ethical line. “She’s not that kind of person, Shay.”

  “Everybody is that kind of person when they want something bad enough.”

  For a happy-go-lucky person, Shayla sure could get cynical. Though she had a point. With a pang of unease, Knox thought about the compromises to his professional integrity he was justifying to himself in the name of vengeance.

  “You’ll just have to trust me about Emily,” he said.

  Shayla made that clicking sound again. “I know you’re a big believer in professional ethics, which is why you can’t see it in other people. But trust me on this. She’s ambitious and she’ll do whatever it takes to get the restaurant. That line about enticing you may have been a Freudian slip, but I bet she did it on purpose. Part of her grand seduction plan.”

  “You’ve met Emily. Name one thing about her that’s seductive?”

  In answer to his own prompt, a hundred images of Emily raced through his mind. The flush of her skin when he’d caught her in his bedroom, the way her tank top had clung to her body in the rowboat, the way she bent over his arm every time she presented him with a plate of food, her unruly hair defying the bindings she tried to trap it in. The spark in her eye when she rattled off the ingredients of the dish she’d created. Everything she did was passion, perfection, and confidence. It was beautiful. It was everything.

  He ignored the intense coil of lust tightening inside him, the same maddening sensation he was constantly battling to ignore every time he was in her presence. What an entitled jerk he was for even thinking bawdy thoughts about his employee. “Nothing about her, that’s what.”

  “Oh, come on,” Shayla said. “Doesn’t she ever take off that bandanna and toss her hair around, all Sports Illustrated swimsuit model-like?”

  If Emily were to do that, he’d never endure it with his professional integrity intact. “Stop. I’ve got a busy day. I’ll talk to you later.”

  With his fork, he skimmed a bit of whipped cream off the top of the pancake and tasted it. There was no way he’d keep his resolve not to eat it as long as it was sitting in front of him. He buzzed Haylie. “Could you come on in?”

  A moment later, she opened his door wearing a guarded expression. Maybe he’d interrupted her work with the typing app.

  He pushed the plate in her direction. “Emily brought me breakfast, but I’m not going to eat this. I mean, it looks great, but I’m not hungry. Would you like it?

  Haylie looked at him like he’d lost his mind. “Are you crazy? Emily brought me pancakes, too, and I’m telling you, they’re OMG good. Rule number one is to always eat whatever Emily puts in front of you. She’s the best cook ever.” She paused, that guarded look returning to her face. “Even if nothing about her is seductive, her cooking sure is.”

  Whoa, shit. “You heard me on the phone.”

  “It’s an old building. The walls are thin.”

  A knot formed in his throat. “Emily … did she…”

  Haylie tucked her hair behind both ears. “No. She was in a hurry to get back to her kitchen, and it’s a good thing she was because I think that would have sucked for her to hear you say that about her.”

  It would have been a disaster, and not just because his words had been unflattering, but because Emily deserved so much better than a skeevy boss who commented on her physical attractiveness in any way.

  Haylie might not be very efficient or computer savvy, but as he always said, someone who’d give you their honest opinion, even when it was uncomfortable, was worth their weight in gold. “It’s the mark of a good secretary, and a good friend, that you’d risk such an awkward conversation with your new boss to look out for Emily. And me, too. Thank you.”

  She preened a little at that.

  “Hey, after you finish eating the breakfast Emily brought you,” he said, “how would you feel about taking me on a tour of your favorite places around the resort, give me the low-down and catch me up on the gossip? I’ve got a little time this morning, and I’d like to take one last look around to orient myself before the structural engineers arrive.”

  “Oh, I already finished. It was too good to eat slow,” she said with a wave of her French-tipped nails. “And I’d love to show you around. Nobody knows this place better than I do. I mean, except Carina and my mom and dad, and Granny June.”

  He had to smile at her, she was disarmingly genuine in a way he never would have guessed from the way she presented herself. That would teach him to judge someone before he’d gotten to know him or her.

  A shadow filled the door behind Haylie. “Morning, darlin’,” Ty said to Haylie. “Better stop that yapping and let the men work.” He accompanied the quip with a wink to Knox, as though to say, These frivolous women, am I right?

  The whole mentor/protégé dynamic was wearing thin on Knox, as were the occasional sexist barbs Ty lobbed at Haylie whenever the mood struck him. He and Ty had only worked together for a week, but it had gotten to the point where all Ty had to do was open that big mouth of his, and Knox’s teeth were instantly on edge.

  Knox walked to his coat hanger. He shrugged into his suit jacket, then settled his Stetson on his head. “Something I can do for you, Ty?”

  Ty moseyed up to Knox’s desk and peered down at the apple pancake.

  “Breakfast from Emily. You’re welcome to it. I’m not hungry,” Knox said.

  To Knox’s surprise, Ty took him up on the offer, picking up the fork and digging in. “I take it from your lack of interest in her cooking that things aren’t going well with Emily?”

  On the contrary, they were going well. A little too well for Knox’s own good. “She’s terrific. Talented, like you told me she was. But breakfast isn’t my thing. No big deal.”

  Busy chowing down, Ty grunted in response. Little bits of cinnamon apple clung to his goatee. Knox decided he’d better get out of there before he let his disgust show on his face. “All right, Haylie. Let’s get going.”

  Knox was halfway out the door when Ty asked, “Where are you two off to and can it wait? I thought we’d sit down today and go over the calendar for the rest of the year, make sure we’re on the same page.”

  “Sounds good for another day. I’ve gotta check something out before this afternoon’s building inspection.”

  The fork dropped onto the plate with a clatter. Ty’s eyes narrowed. “What building inspection?”

  Gotcha, you lying criminal. “With my team of structural engineers. The first step in our expansion plans.” If anything, Ty’s eyes narrowed even more, so Knox added, “I must have forgotten to mention it. Guess you’re right about needing to sync up our calendars.”

  Knox gave a little farewell salute, then brushed past Haylie’s desk en route to the lobby, a man on a mission to get out of the office before Ty got on his nerves even more.

  “Bye, Daddy,” Haylie said, hustling to keep up with Knox.

  As soon as they were standing on the far side of the Spanish-style tile fountain that dominated the center of the lobby, Knox slowed his pace for her.

  “What do you want to see first?” Haylie asked.

  “I thought we might start inside and work our way out and around the grounds.”

  “That’s what I was thinking, too. We’ll start at the spa on the basement level. And it’s Monday, too, so my mom’s probably there.”

  Oh, good. He’d finally get to meet the elusive Eloise Briscoe.

  They headed to the grand staircase that curved from the basement through the ground floor and up to the second level. When they reached the basement, Haylie steered Knox right, through an Employees Only door and into a poorly lit hallway. “First, let me show you where all of Emily’s magic happens. The catering kitchen.”

  Looked like he’d escaped the minefield of his office and was led right into another one. Given the disparate but equally unnerving feelings Emily and Ty stirred up in Knox, and their uncanny abilitie
s to pop into his day at will, he was beginning to wonder if there were anywhere on the resort grounds that he could have a moment of peace. As Haylie pushed open the second door on the left, Knox girded himself for the sight of Emily.

  The door opened into a sprawling, stainless steel kitchen that was empty of people, but cluttered with used pots, pans, and ingredients amid a mouthwatering aroma that reminded him of the sausage Emily had served him that morning.

  “This is the catering kitchen. We use it for special events, weddings, and things like that. It usually doesn’t get busy with workers until closer to noon because most of the special events are in the evening. Emily’s in charge of it all, and you can see her office right through that glass window on the far side.”

  Emily wasn’t in her office, either, Knox noted with relief—as well as an unwanted shot of disappointment. He moved through the kitchen to study her office more closely. It was a bright space, or, as bright as it could be given that it was windowless. She’d painted the walls a cheery pale yellow and covered one of them with bookshelves. Most of the tomes looked to be cookbooks and other reference guides. Her desk was a massive, espresso-stained wood piece, tidier than he would’ve guessed, given her passionate nature and the current state of her kitchen.

  “If you ever need Emily and she doesn’t answer her phone, which she, like, never does because she can hardly ever remember to charge it, this is where you’ll find her.” Haylie pointed to a baby blue sofa along the near wall of the office that Knox hadn’t noticed yet. “She sleeps here most nights, too, because she works such funky hours and lives far away.”

  “Huh.” Did she crash on this sofa rather than make the trip home when she left his house every evening? She’d referenced her long drive home once, on the night Granny June joined them for dinner, but that was the only time he could recall her mentioning a home, and even then, he couldn’t quite remember the circumstances surrounding that conversation, he’d been so overwhelmed with emotions that night.

  He made a mental note to look up where Emily lived, then immediately rejected the idea. Overstepping an employee’s boundaries was not a flattering attribute. If he wanted to know so badly, he’d have to ask her.

  Haylie tugged on his arm. “Moving on. I want you to meet my mom, if she’s at the spa.”

  “How do you know she’s there?” Knox asked as Haylie led him down one hallway and then another in a seemingly endless maze of them.

  “It’s Monday, and that’s the day she gets her hair done.”

  “Every Monday?”

  Haylie pushed through a door marked public and they re-entered the guests’ public space right in front of the spa entrance, comprised of a lovely atrium with a small fountain and some tasteful, low-light plants. “Why not every Monday? Hair on Monday, nails on Friday, massages or facials whenever. Keeping up her appearance is, like, her hobby. She’s always been into fashion, even more than me.”

  And therefore, apparently, she availed herself of the resort’s spa whenever she pleased. Haylie probably did, too. Knox was willing to bet the resort comped all the Briscoe women on their beauty treatments. That might have made sense when their family was a majority shareholder, except for the fact that the resort had been nearly bankrupt when Knox signed on. An occasional haircut was one thing, but unlimited use of the spa’s facilities and its employees’ time was quite another.

  “Did you know Mama was crowned the Queen of Ravel County three years in a row?”

  “I think I read that somewhere.” Actually, he’d read that and more. After his first morning working at the resort, when the mention of Eloise’s name and her absence from his warm welcome had dropped a blanket of tension over the room, he’d looked her up online.

  Back in the day, Eloise Clark, as was her maiden name, had been a classic beauty. Flowing blonde hair, perfect bone structure, thin, and tall. After her run of local pageants, she’d set out for Dallas, where she’d won a single pageant before marrying Ty and reinventing herself as a housewife. In many photographs, even those from her high school days, Ty appeared alongside her. From the shot of them as prom king and queen as high school seniors to their wedding photo that had made the Home and Lifestyle section of the San Antonio Sentinel, the two seemed inseparable.

  Haylie breezed past the receptionist, all the while spouting factoids about the spa and the various cutting-edge treatments it offered.

  After a right turn at a wall of spa pedicure chairs, they arrived at a brightly lit hairstyling space. Only two customers were being fussed over at the moment, both draped in hot pink leopard print capes. Haylie walked up to the one with the long hair cascading down her back in shades of gold and white blonde.

  “Hi, Mom.”

  Eloise’s face brightened at the sight of her daughter through the mirror. Two slender arms appeared from beneath the cape and clasped together. Nearly every finger was dripping with jeweled rings. “Darling! What a nice surprise.”

  The hairstylist pivoted the salon chair so Eloise could face her guests. She did a double take when she saw Knox. Beneath her tan, her face paled. And then she sneered at him. An actual, ugly sneer that had Knox wondering what he’d ever done to piss her off or if this wasn’t about him, but his dad. Had she hated Knox’s dad? They’d all been schoolmates together. Was this about the rift? Knox’s gut was telling him it was.

  “Tracy, I need a martini,” Eloise said. “Would you be a sweetheart and call the order up to the bar?”

  “Mom, don’t be so distracted. Come meet Knox. He’s family. Plus, he gave me a job as his secretary, remember?”

  She kept her focus on Haylie as she rose from her chair. “I do. But listen, honey, I’m late for my next treatment. When you’re on your lunch break, maybe we could meet in the bar and catch up.”

  Knox decided to test Eloise’s resolve in ignoring him. He stepped forward, almost getting in her personal space, his arm extended for a handshake. “So great to meet you, Aunt Eloise.” Extra emphasis on the aunt.

  She afforded his offered hand only the slightest glance before turning away from him. “Likewise,” she tossed over her shoulder in an exaggerated Texas drawl as she strutted down the hall into the recesses of the spa.

  “Your mom doesn’t like me. Any idea why?” Knox said, curious about Haylie’s take on the situation.

  “Of course, she likes you. You’re family. It’s just that when she gets a couple martinis in her early, she’s not herself.” If her mom’s before-noon martini swilling bothered Haylie, she did an ace job of hiding it. “Now, come on. I have so much more to show you on the tour. Next up, my favorite secret place to eat lunch. Our amphitheater.”

  As opposed to the spa or the catering kitchen, the shady, inviting amphitheater that was nestled against the southwest corner of the main resort building was humming with activity in preparation for a one-hundred-guest wedding that night, according to the resort’s in-house wedding planner, whom they found on the amphitheater stage. She looked to be in her late twenties or early thirties and clearly knew how to command an amphitheater full of resort workers and wedding vendors. Knox approved of her immediately.

  “Remedy Lane,” she said, extending her hand.

  “It’s great to meet you, Remedy,” Knox said, shaking her hand. “You’ve got yourself quite an operation here.”

  Remedy stood tall, pride and competence shining in her eyes. “We get the job done.”

  “I’ll say. I’m discovering that weddings around here are a very big deal,” Knox said.

  Haylie leaned in towards him. “They’re our cash cow.”

  Knox’s analysis of the company’s books had proven that to be true. The weddings at Briscoe Ranch had been the only thing keeping the place afloat. “How far out are you booking?”

  Remedy nodded her agreement. “We’re on target to break the resort record for number of weddings held here this year. Next year, as well.”

  “You already have projections for next year? That’s good,” Knox said.
r />   “We’re already booked solid for next year,” came Remedy’s reply.

  God, the untapped potential of this place. If he could retain the charm, he could quadruple the profits in half the time proposed to the private equity investors. “What do you think it is about Briscoe Ranch that makes it such a popular destination?”

  Remedy’s attention was momentarily snagged by two workers who were stringing white lights across the top of the theater. She called out a directive to them.

  “Magic,” Haylie said to Knox, grinning broadly.

  Remedy tore her focus from the workers. “Haylie’s right. There’s something magical about this place that makes people fall in love and stay in love forever. Especially if they get married at the resort during December.”

  How could there be magic in a place so full of dark family history? He looked from Haylie to Remedy. “You’re both serious?”

  “I know what that sounds like. Crazy, huh?” Remedy said. “I was a skeptic at first, but now I’m the biggest believer in the magic of Briscoe Ranch. I’m getting married here in December.”

  “To Dulcet’s most eligible bachelor, if I do say so myself,” Haylie added. “Just like my Wendell was before we fell in love. And my sister met Decker here. And my parents met here, and my grandparents. Well, our grandparents, I guess. It’s been a family tradition since Granny June and Tyson’s wedding almost sixty years ago. Did your parents meet here?”

  Knox searched his memory but drew a blank. “I don’t think I know the answer to that. They got married here, though. But in November, not December like the family tradition.” Which was just as well. There was nothing particularly magical about his parents’ utilitarian marriage, and neither of them had ever pretended there was, so it wasn’t as though they sat around basking in their romantic days of yore.

  They loved each other in their own ways, and even though they’d bickered a fair amount, his dad had always waved it off by telling Knox and his siblings that they were just two very different people trying to make it work, just like all people who married. Neither had liked to talk about their wedding, and the only memento of the occasion they’d kept was a framed photograph tucked on a bookshelf in the family room. In the photo, the two of them were standing together after the ceremony at the altar, dressed in their Sunday best and looking as solemn as dust bowl farmers.