by Gina Gordon
“For a couple of months.” She sat in the old wooden chair and clasped her hands on the table.
“Is it both of you?” she yelled. Maybe it was just her mother. Maybe if only one of them had fallen off the wagon the situation would be salvageable. There was only one way to find out.
She knew all the hiding spots. She flung open the freezer door of the stainless steel appliance—the one that she bought when she signed a large contract with a law firm in the downtown area—removing a box of chicken fingers. Instead of frozen strips, she found her father’s notebook with his sports picks, the point spreads, and the amounts wagered listed in small, neat writing.
She ran to the front of the house and grabbed her father’s jacket out of the closet. She searched inside the pockets and found what she’d been looking for. The small square tickets were like acid on her fingers. Race seven, ten-dollar box, seven, with two, three, nine. She crumpled them in her hands.
The sight of the ticket stubs brought back so many bad memories. Eviction notices and missed opportunities. It had become apparent when she was twelve years old that her parents had a gambling problem. The twins had just been born and they’d just been kicked out of their fourth apartment in the Surrey area. She couldn’t wait until the day she could move out on her own. And as soon as she was able, she left her family and moved to Toronto to start a life for herself. She hated leaving them behind. She hated leaving her sisters, but needed to get out.
She stomped back into the kitchen and threw the tickets on the table. “I see you’re both off the wagon.”
“It’s none of your business what we do, Sterling. Last time I checked we’re the parents, not the children,” her father said.
“Last time I checked, I’m the one paying your bills.” She fell into the chair and hung her head in her hands. She had loosened the leash on her parents once they’d proved they were better. In control. “How many months are you behind?”
“Four,” her mother answered.
Four. Not so bad. Two would have been better. At least it wasn’t like last time. Four months was doable.
Her mother gave her a guilty look. At least one of them had the decency to feel bad. “Sterling, honey, we’re—”
She shook her head. “Don’t. I refuse to listen to more excuses.”
What was that saying? Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice…
“Family is there for one another,” her father said, looking up from his game. It was so nice of him to join the conversation. “Family doesn’t let family suffer.”
There it was. The guilt. The reason it was so damn hard to say no. But tonight, she wasn’t in a very generous mood.
“How are you possibly suffering?” she cried. “I’m the one who made sure you had a roof over your head, food on your table, extra money in your pocket. I’m such an idiot. I can’t believe I let you do this to me again.”
“Sterling, we need money to—”
“Get a job,” she yelled at her father. There was always some reason he couldn’t work. When his employers finally realized he was never going to rehabilitate and reenter the workforce, they would kick him off disability. He always had an excuse. “I am not an ATM. It’s not my job to support you.”
“But how will we eat? How will we be able to do things?” her mother asked.
“You mean how will you be able to gamble? Isn’t that what you really mean, Mother?” How was she related to these people? Could she really be the genetic result of their union?
“You’d rather see us on the street?” her mother wailed. She had a flair for the dramatic. After all this time, how could she even think Sterling would let them wind up on the street? “Because that’s what’ll happen. We can’t live on my pittance of a salary.”
“You won’t be on the street, Mother. I’ll take over the bill payments. I’ll give you a tiny amount to keep you going. I’ll fix your mistake.” She glared across the table at her father. “Again.”
She was done here. Taking a deep breath, she stood and walked away.
“Sterling, please,” her mother whined.
But she didn’t stop. With her world crumbling around her, she left without another word. Her mother called after her, her voice a distant murmur. And when Sterling looked back at the house before she drove off, her mother stood in the doorway, her arms wrapped around her chest.
Her parents had taken advantage of her again. She felt violated. But she had stood up to them. For the very first time.
Overwhelming guilt nagged at her. How could she not help? They were her parents. Her family. But sometimes family needed to be put in their place.
Shaking her head, she cursed at herself. And to think she left Jack Vaughn and his talented tongue for this. But something was different tonight. Maybe Jack had inspired more than just her desire for a one-night stand. Maybe this was the beginning of a whole new life.
…
Jack entered the large kitchen. The smell of garlic, pancetta, and cream greeted him with open arms.
It was the first time in months the house had been filled with the savory smells of food. He hadn’t felt like cooking, at least not for himself, saving up all of his skills for the program. But last night had changed everything. He had come home renewed, inspired, and for the first time in a very long time, sexually frustrated.
He placed the freshly picked parsley from his backyard garden on the counter beside the double sink and soaped up his hands. Washing away the dirt, he rinsed the parsley under cool water before setting it aside on a towel to dry.
He approached the gas stove. Two stainless steel pots bubbled on the burners. The oversize stainless steel exhaust fan worked on a low setting above. He turned down the heat to the first pot, too much steam rising off the top of the smooth, creamy mixture of white bean and pancetta. It seemed as though his frustration had seeped into his cooking. He hadn’t scalded cream since he was seventeen.
The second pot, potato and asparagus, held his favorite. The asparagus was fresh from the garden. The mini potatoes he dug up from the ground himself.
Once the vegetables were cooked through, he picked up the small hand mixer and immersed it in the pot. The blade roared to life, emulsifying the vegetables, turning the soup into a thick consistency.
These soups were the perfect complement to Cole’s new menu down at Bistro—a French-American fusion restaurant—and Jack hoped he’d offer it as the soup du jour.
When the soup was smooth, he eased off the power and pulled out the mixer, laying it on the dark granite counter. With a slotted spoon, he stirred the contents one more time before turning off the burners. He’d let it sit before he took it to Cole.
He cleaned up his mess, letting the rich smell of pancetta take over his senses. Just as Sterling had the night before. Having to leave her was torture. He was just getting started and barely had the chance to warm up. But she obviously had good reason to take off.
There was no way he was going to get over his time with Sterling when it had been nipped in the bud so soon. He had so many more inches of skin to taste, so many more orgasms to coax from her. If she could inspire him this much in just a few minutes, imagine what he could do after spending an entire evening—a whole weekend—with her?
He glanced around at his childhood home. Feelings of nostalgia got him every time at the sight of old pictures and furniture. There was a memory around every corner. Maybe he should stick around. Send someone else to Chicago to help with the restaurant.
Jack shook his head. No. There was no one else. Besides, his life was no longer in Toronto.
In reality, there was no place for him here, which was part of the reason he left. Neil handled the business end, including the gourmet food stores, and channeled his grief into a new project. Cole and Finn completely revamped the restaurants, infusing their own unique culinary viewpoints into each dish. So Jack had forged his own path, despite their disdain at his choice of business. Instead of fine dining he opened five of the best hybrid re
staurants—gourmet food by day, club scene by night.
He stalked out of the kitchen to the foyer and stared at the family photos that hung on the wall along the staircase. Memories of his mother, of the complete family he had not so long ago, saddened him, making his heart ache. He turned, taking in the look and smell of the lilies that sat on the hallway table. Then he glanced to his left, the red knitting bag beside the chair in the sitting room catching his attention. It hadn’t moved since his mother left it months ago.
This house was a shrine. Probably the reason his brothers didn’t visit. It was even starting to take its toll on him. The place needed to be packed up. That was the only way for him and his brothers to recover from their grief. It was time to move on. Those memories needed to be put away, but not forgotten.
This was a job he couldn’t do on his own. He didn’t even know where to start. He needed the help of a professional. A professional organizer.
A wave of self-satisfaction washed over him as an idea took shape in his head. A heated wave that settled in his chest at the mere consideration. He would hire Sterling. Although he’d only met her last night, he trusted her. And she was Penn’s best friend—and Penn was obviously a good judge of character, since she kept Cole at a distance.
Not only would hiring Sterling prove he had what it took to be a mature, forward-looking Madewood, but he’d also get to spend time with her. If she was packing up his mother’s things she’d be in his house, breathing the same air, in close proximity for him to lure her into his bed so they could finish what they started in that limo.
His heart rate doubled at the memory of Sterling’s tiny whimpers and moans, the image of her perfect breasts and soft skin. It wasn’t only his heart rate that was affected. The front of his pants grew tight. As if someone pressed play on his brain, sounds and images bombarded him, like an endless recording on a permanent loop. And suddenly it wasn’t the heat from the stove that elevated the temperature of the house.
He leaned heavily against the wall, his left hand grabbing at the erection that throbbed inside his pants. The plan was brilliant.
Until he realized she’d be his employee. Sex with an employee wasn’t the most responsible, mature, Madewood thing to do.
He thought of his brothers. Of their eye-rolling and sly grins. Of their guaranteed disapproval over Jack being involved with an employee. And he didn’t give two shits.
Screw the Madewood thing to do. The thought of Sterling was just too tempting.
He grabbed his phone. He didn’t have Sterling’s number, but he knew exactly where he could get it.
Here’s to tying up loose ends. And the sex would be the cherry on top of a job well done.
…
Sterling sat in the comfort of her bathtub, the calming scent of lavender doing little to ease her nerves.
Her parents hadn’t bothered to call once since she’d left their house last night. Penn, on the other hand, had called about thirty times. But Sterling needed some space. Some time to put things into perspective. Namely how the hell she was going to be able to trust her parents ever again.
Not to mention the shame she felt for such an epic failure of an evening. Operation Exciting Sterling had been a bust. She almost had sex in the back of a limo! What could have possibly possessed her to consider such insane behavior with Jack Vaughn? Her little experiment was just that—an experiment. A failed one at that.
She slid deeper into her bath and sighed. At least she was safe here.
The ring of her phone broke the serene setting of her bathroom. She had a good hunch who was calling. She reached behind her to where her phone sat on the toilet seat.
“I’m blissfully naked and trying to enjoy a bath. Make it quick, Penn.”
A male voice chuckled. “Sterling?”
She shot up, ripping away the towel from her face. “Who is this?”
“Sterling, it’s Jack.” She could hear the smile in his voice.
Shit.
“Jack.” Sterling covered her exposed breasts, which were flushed red from a combination of mortification and the hot water. “Hi.” She looked down at her body. Why was she covering herself? It’s not as if he could see through the phone.
“Penn gave me your number.”
A call from the man she could never have: the perfect way to start the day. Could she feel any shittier?
“I hope I’m not interrupting. Although…” His voice was low and seductive. “I love the image you just put in my head. Naked Sterling. Wet and—”
“You’re not interrupting,” she blurted. The seduction in his voice was exactly what she did not need to hear. He must think her wanton. This was so not her. She swallowed hard. “Can I help you with something?”
He laughed. “I wanted to talk to you about a job.”
Okay. Not what she expected.
“You said that you’re a professional organizer?”
“Yes.” She settled back against the tub. The gentle whoosh of the water against her breasts made her nipples hard. She stifled a groan. “I have my own business.”
“My mother’s house…” He paused. She knew exactly where this conversation was going.
“My mother’s house needs to be packed up.”
“Oh, um…I’m not really a packer.” She usually bit off a person’s head for assuming all she did was pack. But the resignation in his voice kept her pettiness in check. “It’s more my job to design space and suggest storage options.”
“Well, I guess we need that, too. We don’t want to get rid of anything, just put it away.”
There were worse jobs out there. But was putting herself right in the line of Jack Vaughn such a good idea? A man she’d almost slept with. The man who she had thrown experimental Exciting Sterling at. The man she was speaking to right now wearing nothing but bubbles. “Shouldn’t you and your brothers be going through her things? It seems to be kind of a sentimental job.”
“Honestly, we don’t have the time, and…” Jack hesitated. “My brothers don’t know about this yet. It needs to be done and I can trust you.”
“I’d have to think about it. I’m booked solid for the next three months and I really wouldn’t have the time to—”
“I’ll pay you three times your going rate.”
Shit! Jack Vaughn knew just what to say. The extra cash couldn’t have come at a better time. If she said yes, she’d have the mortgage payments paid up in no time. But there was only one problem that would put a kink in this brilliant opportunity. He thought she was a crazy one-night stand girl who liked dirty, kinky, back-of-a-limo sex with men she had just met. It didn’t matter that she couldn’t stop thinking about him. Her parents’ most recent financial bomb reminded her that she should stay in her boring, organized Sterling box.
“Sterling?” Jack said. “Are you still there?”
“I’m here.” Why wouldn’t she say yes? Because taking this job means you will never get to let loose your libido on Jack Vaughn. Sterling groaned. Now was not the time to think exciting, fun, and experimental. She needed this job. “If it’s not a problem with you, I could work for a couple of hours during the evening and on the weekends.”
Evenings and weekends? That didn’t make her seem desperate, did it? And she wasn’t thinking about the money.
“It wasn’t my intention to put you out.”
“I think I can sacrifice some personal time.” Hopefully she wouldn’t regret this decision too much. “Penn has only the nicest things to say about all of you so…you have yourself a deal. Your mother’s things are safe with me.”
“I have no doubt.”
Silence. Awkward silence.
“You rushed off pretty quickly last night.”
Luckily, he saved her from having to embarrass herself. Again.
“Is everything all right?” The seductive tone to his voice had softened.
“Yes, just a little family emergency.” She needed to get her high-pitched squeal under control. It couldn’t be attract
ive. She cleared her throat and hoped he wasn’t looking for a better explanation. “Nothing I couldn’t handle.”
She hoped he wasn’t going to bring up the possibility of them recreating what they had started in that limo. Well, she did. She wanted to cross her arms out in front of her, nod her head, and blink to turn back time. But that was just a one-night thing. Never to be repeated. And now that she had agreed to work for him, sex would be highly inappropriate.
He cleared his throat. “I should probably give you the address.”
“Um…” She looked around. There was no way she was equipped to write down anything at this moment. “Do you think you could e-mail me the information? I sort of don’t have access to a pen and…”
“Oh. Right.” He chuckled. “I could always come over and write it down for you. Did you know that I can write the alphabet with my—”
“How’s Monday at five o’clock?” This conversation needed to end before she died of embarrassment. Was it too late to take back her acceptance of the offer?
He laughed, no doubt at her. “Five is perfect. I’ll have Penn send you the details. Thanks, Sterling.”
“Bye, Jack.”
She pressed the end button on her BlackBerry and placed it back on the toilet seat.
Working for the Madewood family. One of the most prominent families in the city. She’d hit the big time.
Except that being privy to the Madewood family heirlooms would only make her envious. What would her life be like if she hadn’t had to support and bail out her parents at every turn? She was perpetually on hold, stagnant, never moving forward, always lagging behind.
But this surprise offer. This unexpected opportunity. Unexpected and surprising were her two least favorite words. The very things she had tried to avoid her entire life were now responsible for her sudden rush of good luck. All right, Jack Vaughn wasn’t so much good luck—more like right place, right time—and maybe this job offer was, too. And she didn’t intend to question either one.
Chapter Five
“I come bearing gifts.” Jack wheeled the wire cart around the corner into the kitchen of Bistro.
