“Semantics,” Zoe said, stepping through the open door and giving Tessa a once-over. “Ugh. Couldn’t you have lost the boots and filthy shirt for his interview?”
“I didn’t know he…” She waved her hand to shut them all up. “Listen, this is crazy. He’s just a guy.”
Zoe choked. “And Godiva’s just a chocolate. Didn’t you tell him you worked here?”
Tessa frowned, replaying their conversation. “I think I told him I was the gardener at a resort.”
“There’s only one resort on Mimosa Key,” Jocelyn said, obviously picking up Zoe’s train of thought. “I bet he’s here on purpose. Trying to pick up where he stupidly left off.”
Tessa silently cursed the little butterfly of hope that pirouetted around her chest, remembering the wink.
“He said he heard about the job from Charity,” Lacey said, verbally swiping at the butterfly. “Who’s trying to tell every island visitor that we’re going out of business.”
They shared a quick moment of silence, the possibility so unspeakable that no one could really say a word.
“That is so not going to happen.” Tessa slapped her hands on her legs to stand. “If he’s a great chef, available, affordable, and his references check out, let’s hire him.”
Nobody responded as they looked at each other, surprised by her change of heart.
“Guys,” Tessa whispered. “Do you really think I would let my pride or insecurities stand in the way of Casa Blanca’s success? Of course I’m going to work with him. I’ll do whatever I have to even if it means I have to be right next to him all day…and night.”
Lacey smiled, reached for her. “Thank you.”
“That’s really unselfish of you,” Joss added, circling her arm around Tessa’s waist.
Zoe grinned. “Way to take one for the team, kiddo.”
Tessa pointed at her. “Don’t you have a balloon you have to fly?”
Lacey’s cell phone rang and she grabbed it, reading a text. “Front desk says there’s someone here to see me about a group booking. You handle the new hire, Tess.”
“Me?”
Lacey nodded. “Finish the interview, seal the deal, and call his references for me.”
“You might have to interview him over dinner,” Jocelyn suggested.
“And overnight,” Zoe added. “You know, for the good of the resort.”
Tessa held out her hand. “Twenty dollars says you have lipstick and comb, Zoe. Hand them over.”
“Twenty dollars says you do it with him before Thanksgiving.”
Tessa laughed. Maybe she would. Until then, all bets were off.
Chapter Five
What the hell was he thinking? That flirting with her would get him the job? From the look he got, winking was only going to get him kicked out on his ass, jobless.
Time for a new strategy. What he had to do was cook his balls off and get the job the old-fashioned way. If he didn’t find work quickly, he’d have to move on. Those were the rules he’d agreed to when Henry let him go to North America. He had to get a job, find a place to live, keep his nose clean, and watch the damn clock tick his life and hope away.
Oh, and not let anyone in the world know where or what or who he was, except John Brown, an American- born, self-taught cook.
When he walked back into the kitchen, the young kid who’d been working the line and giving him an evil eye the whole time Ian had cooked was cleaning away any trace of Ian’s work.
“What are you doing?” Ian asked as the boy—he couldn’t be a day over twenty—swiped a cloth over the stainless prep top.
“Oh, I thought you were gone.”
“You threw away the eggs Benedict?” Ian choked. “Nobody tasted them.”
“I did. Good stuff, but I got this covered, man, so thanks for coming in.”
How many damn obstacles did he have to face in one interview? Ire shot through Ian as he stared down this new enemy, all too aware that Tessa would come barreling through the door any second to end the interview.
In the meantime, Ian considered this second problem, who wasn’t nearly as unsettling as Tessa, simply annoying.
“What’s your problem, kid?” he asked.
“Kid?” He huffed out an arrogant breath. “The name’s Marcus Lowell and, at the moment, I’m the chef de cuisine in this kitchen.”
Ian huffed. “Chef de kindergarten, maybe.”
Marcus narrowed his nearly black eyes, set his jaw, and squared narrow shoulders. “Fuck you, man.”
A punch of deja vu, harder than anything this boy could throw with his fist, slammed at Ian’s gut.
Fact was, he still hated Aaron Shaw, even though the kid had died by the same hand that killed Kate. He blamed Aaron for Kate’s death. Aaron had run to his sister’s house for protection after getting mixed up with the worst of a Brixton gang. Dumb as a rock, the kid didn’t know the gang leader, Luther Vane, was one tube stop behind him, wielding a knife.
A familiar black anger spilled through Ian’s veins as he leaned closer to Marcus. Anger that had gotten his ass thrown out of Singapore. Right now, he didn’t care. “Get the hell out of my face, you little prick.”
“Get the fuck out of my kitchen, asshole.”
Tessa walked in right then, stopping short as she heard the exchange.
They backed away from each other, Marcus looking guilty, Ian fuming as he waited for the “thanks but no thanks” announcement.
“Marcus, why don’t you check the dining room and bus whatever hasn’t been done yet?”
“Bus?” His lip curled at her.
“Chef Brown needs to work alone.” She gestured toward the kitchen, giving Ian a chance to notice that she’d cleaned up a little. Fixed her hair, added some gloss to her lips.
Well, that was good news. Maybe Lacey had exerted her influence or played the “owner” card, because she’d been mightily impressed by his kitchen skills. He had to do that one more time with Tessa.
“So, what would you like me to make?”
She hesitated for a moment, looking around as a way to avoid eye contact. Finally, she met his gaze, an embarrassed smile in hers. “Well, for starters, not a baby.”
He choked a laugh, grabbing the humor with even more optimism. “Not on the menu, huh?”
She crossed her arms protectively but didn’t look away. “I want to apologize for the other night.”
He shook his head, a sudden rush of affection and appreciation warming him. That couldn’t have been easy. “No, not at all. You were honest, I presume. I’m the one who should apologize for taking off like a spooked raccoon.”
The expression made her laugh, lighting her amber eyes and revealing the gorgeous wide smile that had first attracted him. Within a heartbeat, the tension was gone.
“Never thought I’d see you again,” she admitted.
“Never say never,” he quipped, picking up an avocado. “How about I wow you with some
“If I had any idea how to speak French, sure.”
He flipped the avocado like a baseball. “Don’t worry, neither do I. I made that up to impress you with my avocado soup with a dollop of caviar. But won’t it look good on the menu?”
