Her New Boss: A Rouge Erotic Romance

by Michelle M. Pillow

  ‘Maybe so, but if she fits with you does it matter? Jackson, ever since you were a boy you were too big for this town. I don’t know why you always fought it. You had this natural curiosity. Remember those grand adventures you’d take Jeffery on?’ Constance reached across the table and held his hands in hers. ‘I know you love Dabery and it will always be home but, no matter how hard you try, the outside world will always call to you. No matter how many businesses you fix up, how many houses you refurbish, your wanderlust will come and bite you where the sun don’t shine.’

  ‘I don’t think she’ll ever fit with me. She doesn’t seem interested and I don’t want a woman who sees me as second to her career. Dad might have supported you working, but you never put him or us second to your careers.’ Jackson smiled to himself. His mother had had many jobs over the years. He pulled his hands away and took a drink. The sweet flavor reminded him of being a kid, playing in the backyard with his brother, stealing sips out of his mother’s glass when she wasn’t paying attention. Changing the subject, he asked, ‘Have you talked to Jeff? Are the wedding plans coming along? The photographer called me saying he wasn’t answering his phone.’

  ‘Why did he call you?’

  ‘I hired him to take some photographs of the house a few months back,’ Jackson explained. ‘What’s happening with Jeff?’

  ‘There was a small hiccup.’ Constance shook her head. ‘Madelyn found out from the doctor that she can’t have children. She told me she wanted to have herself checked out. You know about that accident when she was a kid. The doctors told her she could have a hard time conceiving because of the scar tissue.’

  Jackson didn’t speak, feeling terrible for the couple.

  His mother continued, ‘She tried to break it off to free your brother from such a fate. He whisked her away for a few days to convince her he didn’t care.’

  ‘Jeff always wanted lots of children,’ Jackson said. ‘Poor Madelyn, she seems like she’d be a great mother.’

  ‘And perhaps they shall be parents yet. There’s always adoption.’ Constance pushed up from her chair and set her glass on the tray by the tea pitcher. ‘Have no fear, the wedding will go on as planned. Have you asked Zoe to go yet?’

  ‘What?’ Jackson frowned, taking a big drink to hide his surprise before putting his glass on the tray. It was a mistake. He choked and ended up coughing violently. His mother merely laughed at him. Breathing hard, he asked, ‘Why would I ask her to a family wedding?’

  ‘To let the rest of the clan meet her. To stake claim, or whatever it is you men do. To take her out on a date. To let her know you take her seriously, aren’t ashamed of her.’ His mother lifted the tray and walked toward the sliding-glass door to the house.

  Jackson thought of the fight they’d had. ‘Did she talk to you about me? What did she say? Is this when you gave her the recipe book? Did she know you were my mother?’

  Constance chuckled. ‘You already know I met her. She came in a couple of Sundays back to pick up her phone and stayed to help me, plying me with questions about “Southern cuisine.”’ Her laughter deepened. ‘I don’t know about cuisine, but I described to her some of the local dishes and a few Cajun ones I’d learnt from your great-aunt Eliza. She’s got what your gramma would have called a natural instinct in the kitchen. You did good giving her a chance and giving Bob some time off. It’s good for Callie and the boys to get away. And, no, I didn’t feel the need to tell her I was your mother.’

  ‘Did she say anything to you about me?’ Jackson asked, insistently.

  ‘She said you gave her a chance at her dream and she’s very grateful for it. You are helping her, aren’t you? Because when I spoke to your sister, she said you were making some odd decisions.’

  ‘Callie told you my plan, didn’t she?’ Jackson should’ve known. ‘Why didn’t you say anything about it?’

  ‘What is there to say? So, are you going to do the honorable thing by her and help her out? Or are you still on your drunken mission to teach her a lesson?’

  ‘Fine, it was a stupid idea.’ Jackson didn’t have many of them and he wouldn’t admit it when he had to just anyone. ‘And you know me, once I have an idea I don’t back down from it. I got her down here and I gave her the job. I don’t think I’ve really punished her, though. She wanted to cook in one of my restaurants and that’s what she’s doing. It’ll look good on her résumé.’

  ‘You are helping her out, aren’t you? Not just dumping her in the diner for a few months while Bob’s on vacation. What’s next after Bob gets back?’

  ‘That’s up to her.’

  ‘You are helping her.’ This time it wasn’t a question, but a motherly order.

  ‘She helped herself. A couple of guys from California came into the diner with their wives. They were here to acquire horses for a movie and one of the wives just happened to be a reporter and critic for Chef d’oeuvre magazine. She impressed them. Apparently their cover story flopped and they needed a new angle to replace it. The reporter is pushing through an article about Zoe in the summer issue and the editor faxed me a preliminary copy to comment on. They called her a culinary diamond.’

  ‘And what did you call her?’

  Jackson sighed heavily. Part of him still didn’t want the article to come out, but he refused to stand in her way. So finally, at three o’clock in the morning a couple of days after receiving the fax, he’d sent off his answers to Josine’s questions. Simply, he replied, ‘A chef.’

  ‘Good for you, dumplin’. Can you believe what that jerk Contiello did to her?’ Constance clucked her tongue. ‘Shameful behavior. You think twice before ever considering hiring that man.’

  ‘What did he do?’ Jackson had to admit that he’d been curious, but it seemed a very touchy subject with Zoe. He doubted she’d tell him if he asked. Though to know she’d volunteered her story to his mother, a stranger she’d known less than a day, caused a great pain to wash over his chest.

  ‘You don’t know?’ Constance came to the table and set the tray back down. ‘Contiello tried to buy some of her original recipes. She told me about them and they sound great – especially the ranch sauce. I suggested she write her own cookbook. She said she has a journal she keeps them in, everything she’s created since she was a little girl.’

  ‘That’s it?’ Jackson’s brow furrowed in question. ‘He offered to buy her recipes?’

  ‘I guess he offered an insultingly cheap price, like ten dollars a recipe, and when she said no, he got angry. He treated her like dirt, making her come into work early to take care of janitorial duties, making her clean the bathrooms while everyone else cooked for some big event, threatening her job. It all rings of blackmail if you ask me.’

  ‘So he fired her?’

  ‘From what I understand, she blew up at him and quit. I say good for her, but she says that it ruined her chance of getting another chef position until you came along.’ Constance smiled at her son. ‘I am so proud of you. You did a really good thing with Zoe. It’s not fair that she lost everything because of one jerk.’

  ‘To hear Contiello tell it, she tried to steal recipes from him.’ Jackson had never really trusted Contiello’s word.

  ‘I don’t know this Contiello, but I trust Zoe to be telling the truth.’

  ‘How can you be so sure? You don’t know her.’

  Constance laughed. ‘Because I raised three kids and I know when one of them is lying. She’s about as bad at it as Callie is.’

  ‘What did she lie to you about?’ Jackson asked.

  ‘I wouldn’t say she lied so much as she wanted to lie. Instead she blushed profusely, babbled a little incoherently and quickly changed the subject.’ Constance smirked, again lifting her tray to carry it inside.

  ‘What was the question?’ Jackson asked, getting up to follow his mom.

  ‘What exactly it was she felt for you.’ Constance grinned, sliding the door shut in her son’s face. He reached for the handle, but his mother latched it, smirking at
him through the glass.

  ‘Momma?’ he yelled as she walked away, leaving him in torment on purpose. He knocked on the door. ‘Mother?! Mother! Get back here. Why did you ask her that? What happened?’

  She didn’t come back.

  ‘Mother!’

  ‘I’m here to pick up a pie.’

  Zoe glanced up from the recipe book Constance had lent her, surprised to see someone standing in the kitchen who wasn’t Sheryl, who pointedly ignored her anyway. The voice had the soft Southern charm expected of any belle, delicate and very feminine with a quality that made it impossible to tell the owner’s age. The lady who carried it was young, thin and utterly debutante-perfect in her pink dress suit with white trim and matching high heels. Her dark hair swept up at the sides to fall in large curls down her back. Wide brown eyes looked bigger with the shading of eyeliner along the outside corners and her full lips bowed in a permanent pout. Zoe half expected to see delicate white gloves in place of the perfectly manicured hands. Two diamond rings graced her fingers, their gold bands as delicate as the lady wearing them.

  ‘There is pie for me, isn’t there? I don’t know what I’ll do if there isn’t pie. Connie didn’t come, did she? I thought she was running behind, that’s why I’m here. Though, honestly …’ The woman had an unladylike laugh, a wild look coming to her eyes as she crossed deeper into the kitchen toward Zoe in the back. Her hands began to move frantically. ‘I don’t know what I’m doing here. I shouldn’t be getting pie. I should be in some loony bin. Have you ever had one of those days?’

  Zoe was almost afraid to answer. She was saved as the woman continued.

  ‘I’ll bet not. You look so collected. I’ve heard you’re very collected. I’m a mess.’ Suddenly, the woman’s eyes welled with tears. ‘Please tell me there’s pie. I can’t think straight and there has to be pie tonight. It’s been planned for months.’

  ‘Ah.’ Zoe stood, grabbing a tissue from the box on the desk. She handed it to the woman. ‘Do you need me to call someone?’ Like a psychiatrist?

  ‘What? No. I’m sorry, you’re Zoe, right? I’m Maddy.’ The woman looked at her like the name should mean something. It didn’t.

  ‘Let me check the walk-in for you,’ Zoe said, thinking that maybe Sheryl had left something for the woman to pick up. It would be in character for the waitress not to tell her, just to make her look incompetent.

  ‘Oh, thank you, shug,’ Maddy said, following her. She toyed with her diamond earring, turning it slowly. ‘I am normally not this frazzled, but I’m …’ Her eyes welled up again. ‘I’m having one of those months. I’m supposed to be happy, but I – I don’t need to bother you with this.’

  ‘Found it,’ Zoe said, uncomfortable with the situation. ‘Found two, actually. Cherry crumb and strawberry rhubarb, is that right?’

  ‘Yes, perfect! Thank you.’ Zoe carried them out to the front of the diner, hoping the woman would take the hint and leave. ‘Would you like me to carry them to your car?’

  ‘Would you? You are such a peach.’

  Zoe forced a smile, concentrating on making it look polite, but the truth was she was too tired to deal with some lady who’d forgotten to take her happy pills that morning. Maddy held the door open and led the way to a pink sports car parked out front. Zoe put the pies on the passenger seat.

  ‘It’s too bad you couldn’t have gotten off today like Sheryl or I’d invite you to the party too.’ Maddy waved, unaware of the bombshell she’d just dropped, and slipped into the driver’s side of the car. As she pulled away from the curb, Zoe frowned. Sheryl was at a party? The waitress had told her she had to go to a doctor’s appointment today.

  ‘That bitch,’ Zoe swore under her breath as she went back inside the quiet diner. It was Friday, one of their busiest nights, even though at the moment the streets were really quiet. Sheryl had left after the lunch crowd, abandoning Zoe to man the entire restaurant by herself for dinner. She wasn’t looking forward to it, but she would manage. Most of Sheryl’s customers were used to filling their own drinks anyway. They probably would have no problem picking up their own orders from the window. Either that or she’d send Travis out to work the floor.

  She headed to the back of the kitchen, sat down at the desk and picked up her pencil, preparing her orders for the following week. As she wrote, running her finger down the recipe for split-pea soup, she whispered, ‘Parsley, celery, bay leaf, dried split peas …’ Next, she flipped to the earmarked page for potato soup and began the process again. ‘More celery, more parsley, lots of potat –’

  ‘Zoe?’ Jackson’s voice startled her and she dropped her pencil.

  ‘Jacks – on.’ Her breath caught as she looked at him. A bouquet of what looked to be two-dozen pink roses rested in one fist along his thigh. She slowly stood. Her gaze traveled down to the flowers and then up over his fashionable dark suit and silk blue shirt to his perfect eyes. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘Did Madelyn stop by?’

  Zoe’s eyes again went down to the flowers. Pink. Just like Maddy’s dress, like her car, like her shoes. Jealous, she snorted softly, before turning back to her list to pretend to write. ‘You mean the crazy lady? I hope you brought a straitjacket. You’re going to need it.’

  ‘Are you joking?’ he asked, unsure.

  ‘Look, if you like her that’s great, but she is either on drugs or insane.’ Zoe wrote the words ‘drug,’ ‘insane’ and ‘bitch.’ Anger boiled inside her. How dare he come here to meet up with a date? How dare he flaunt roses in front of her? ‘Unless you like that sort of thing.’

  Jackson stared at Zoe’s back, unable to believe how mean she was being, and without cause. Sure, Madelyn had been a little upset and scattered lately, but she was a bride-to-be and that was normal under the best circumstances. He looked down at the flowers in his hand. The florist had only had pink because of his brother’s wedding this weekend. Whatever Madelyn had ordered for decorations, Jackson had doubled it, slipping the florist cash in private to give his brother the fanciest wedding possible. He’d done the same for his sister and knew the man wouldn’t tell. Jackson wasn’t looking for acknowledgement; he merely wanted the best for his siblings. And Madelyn had had such a rough time of it, especially lately, that he wanted his new sister to feel like a true princess on her wedding day. Even now workers were at his house, setting up banquet tables along his stone porch and a gazebo in his backyard for the couple to get married under.

  Now, looking at Zoe’s turned back, hearing her horrible words, he gripped the flowers tighter. Irritation rolled through him at her words. He’d planned on giving the roses to Zoe and asking her to go with him, on a real date, to his brother’s wedding. He wanted to show his family, the most important thing in his life, that he was serious about Zoe. And he wanted to show her that he wanted her in his life.

  ‘She’s had a rough time of it lately,’ Jackson said through gritted teeth.

  ‘If you say so.’ She didn’t look up as she continued to write on the yellow legal pad in front of her.

  ‘I’ll kindly ask you to stop speaking about my future sister-in-law like that and to show a little sensitivity if you happen to be around her again. Not only is she suffering normal wedding jitters, she just discovered she can’t have children.’ Jackson didn’t know why he was telling her. Maybe because he knew she wouldn’t tell anyone else. Her shoulders stiffened, but she didn’t answer, didn’t look at him. ‘When she was thirteen her drunken stepdad ordered her to pick up something he’d dropped on the ground. To get it, she had to walk behind his stallion. It kicked her in the stomach and nearly killed her. I think this news is only the latest development of that long-ago accident.’

  Zoe still didn’t move.

  ‘She told me a week ago that she wanted to have eleven kids, enough for a whole football team, with my brother. She dreamt of a large family and so did Jeff.’ He sighed, tossing the pink roses into the trash can. ‘So maybe you can muster up a little understanding.’

/>   ‘Jackson,’ she began, setting her pencil down.

  ‘I came by to tell you I need you to run the kitchen at the wedding on Sunday. It’s an all-day event. The food’s been ordered. Staff are coming down from Columbia to work it.’ Jackson didn’t stop the lie, even as he knew he was telling it. Family was everything to him and he wanted her to be part of that, but she had insulted his future sister, a woman with a good heart. Her cutting comments reminded him of the first time he’d met her in the bar. No matter who he was, what he did, Jackson felt as if he’d never be good enough for her. Was it because he wasn’t a New Yorker? Was it his accent? His clothes? His manners? He’d been all over the world and the person he was never offended other people, never put anyone off. Or was it something more, something he didn’t want to admit? Was it just the fact that Zoe could never come to care for him? To love him?

  Love.

  The word echoed through him, making it hard to breathe. The pain ripped him in two and left his heart for dead. He loved her. And knowing she didn’t feel the same way, not even close, left him numb.

  ‘I’ll send someone to give you a ride tomorrow night so you can go over the menus and schedule and make your plans. Do you think you can handle that?’

  ‘Yes.’ The word was soft, but he heard it clearly.

  ‘Lock up and go home. Everyone’s at the party. There’ll be no customers tonight. Sheryl should have told you.’ Jackson left, not really feeling like a party, but as the best man he needed to be there for his brother. He walked away, not knowing why he was tormenting himself. This time he couldn’t blame liquor for the rash decision to bend her to his will by using cooking.

  ‘Kat, I need you,’ Zoe said into the phone, not knowing why she was whispering but afraid that Marta might be lurking outside her bedroom door, listening. ‘I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I open my mouth and these words just spew out. Every time I look at Jackson I get upset. I try to play it cool, try to act like a modern woman, but I can’t do it.’

  ‘You really care for him, don’t you?’ Kat answered. ‘You did the same thing in high school whenever Bobby Henison came around. You had a crush on him so you ignored him and treated him like he was a nuisance if he said anything to you.’