Barefoot by the Sea bb-4 Page 4

  “I’m sorry. Am I too filthy to interview a chef?”

  “This chef.”

  Tessa frowned. “Why?”

  “Listen, I have good news and I have…other news.”

  “Good news first,” Tessa said instantly.

  “I found a chef, I mean, I found the chef.”

  “Really?” What a relief that would be. “You’re sure?”

  “So sure. He’s brilliant, talented, fast, creative, cheap, and can start tomorrow.”

  “That’s awesome.” She reached out to squeeze Lacey’s arm. “What’s the other news?”

  “Excuse me, Mrs. Walker?”

  Tessa turned at the low voice that came from the hall, the sound oddly…familiar. She knew that voice.

  “I’ve got the prosciutto eggs Benedict…” His words faded as their eyes met and locked, his as crazy ice blue as she remembered, hers no doubt widening in speechless shock.

  “That would be the other news,” Lacey whispered.

  Chapter Four

  Ian suspected he might run into the sperm-hunting gardener. When the talkative old lady in the convenience store mentioned that the local resort was probably going out of business if they didn’t find a chef, he remembered that the dishy woman he’d met in the bar had said she worked at a resort.

  And that had almost kept him from making the drive up the beach road to check it out, but he wanted the job too much to let one little encounter stop him. Except that, based on the way she was staring at him like he was the ax murderer she’d feared the other night, perhaps staying put might have been smart. No doubt she was still pissed he’d blown her off.

  “Prosciutto eggs Benedict?” she asked, finally tearing her gaze from him to Lacey Walker, who’d been interviewing him while he cooked in the kitchen for the last hour. “That’s not on our menu.”

  “It could be. John, this is Tessa Galloway, but…I believe you two have already met.” Lacey could barely hide the amusement in her voice, but Tessa didn’t look too amused.

  “Hello again, Tessa.”

  “Hi.” She gave him a not-too-friendly smile, brushing some hair off her face that revealed a smudge of dirt on her cheekbone. She crossed her arms as if she didn’t want to be forced to shake his hand. Or maybe she was covering up more dirt on her shirt.

  Woman needed a shower. And just the thought of that made him need one, too. Ice-cold.

  “Um, Tess.” Lacey gave a quick brush to her own cheek to silently tell her friend about the dirt.

  “Oh, oh.” Tessa wiped her face, then glanced down self-consciously, giving him a chance to check out her long, tanned legs and clunky work boots. Damn if they weren’t cute as hell on her. “I didn’t know we were interviewing.”

  He shrugged. “No big deal.”

  An unreadable response crossed her face as she took a step closer, the light of the kitchen hall catching the golden threads woven into her chestnut-colored hair and highlighting the rise of color under her sun-warmed complexion.

  “No, it’s not,” she agreed quickly. “Absolutely no big deal.”

  Except, by the look on her face, it was a huge fucking deal and no doubt his disappearing act in the bar would cost him the job. Damn it.

  “Tessa runs our on-site farmette,” Lacey said quickly, trying to fill the gaping silence between them. “So she’s always involved with what goes on in the kitchen.”

  Which meant she could put a freeze on his hire right this minute. Unless he won her over, which might take some doing, but he needed this job.

  Lacey nudged her closer, and he silently thanked this enabler who was on his side.

  “So you can consider me a supplier,” Tessa said, her color returning to normal and her voice finally finding some volume. “For the kitchen. And food. And…stuff.”

  More nervous than normal, then, which he’d use to his advantage. As she came closer, he dipped his head slightly. “I love working directly with a supplier.”

  “Good, that’s good.” Lacey put a hand on her friend’s shoulder and urged her even closer. “That’s why I’ve asked Tessa to be part of this hiring decision.”

  “I don’t remember you saying you were a chef,” she said.

  “I didn’t,” he admitted. “But I can cook.”

  “He’s being modest,” Lacey said. “He can more than cook and you’ll never guess who sent him our way.”

  Tessa raised an eyebrow that said she had lots of ideas—the devil, perhaps?—but didn’t answer.

  “Charity Grambling,” Lacey said.

  “Really?” Tessa seemed surprised, a smile pulling. “Then maybe you’re a spy or planning to poison our guests.”

  He shook his head. “Neither. Is the local shopkeep an enemy of the state?”

  “She didn’t want me to build this resort,” Lacey said as they all walked toward the kitchen. “She thought it was competition for her daughter’s motel, the Fourway.”

  He snorted. “Hardly. And I say that as a paying guest.”

  “You’re at the Fourway?” Tessa asked.

  “We’ll have to do something about that,” Lacey said confidently.

  He turned in time to catch Tessa give a wide-eyed “What the hell” look to Lacey, who shook her head quickly.

  Screw it, he didn’t have time to dick around. If he couldn’t work here, he needed to move on. “Excuse me, ladies,” he said, pausing at the kitchen door. “But if you’re going to kick me to the curb, then let’s not waste anyone’s time.”

  “Okay,” Tessa said.

  “No way,” Lacey countered.

  After an uncomfortable beat, they all laughed, Lacey and Ian more than Tessa.

  “So, which is it?” he asked.

  “Let her taste your food,” Lacey said.

  “I will,” Tessa replied. “But first I need to talk to you in your office, Lacey.” She gave her friend a gentle push in the opposite direction. “Can you excuse us for a second?”

  “Of course.” He paused at the kitchen door, watching them walk away. No doubt they’d stroll back in to tell him he was out of the running.

  Unless…

  “Hey, Tess,” he called.

  She turned, slowing enough for him to see something in her eyes. Surprise, humor, a hint of hope. He winked and waited for a quick laugh at the unsubtle flirt.

  Instead she raised one eyebrow and kept walking. Bollocks. He’d lost that round.

  When they turned into admin area that separated the restaurant from the spa, Tessa steered them into Lacey’s office and shut the door. “Seriously, Lacey?”

  “I am completely serious. He’s a great chef. You should see his resume.”

  “I’m sure he’s an amazing chef. Hell, if he cooks like he kisses, we’ll be Zagat rated by next month. But, Lacey, I practically threw myself at him the other night and I’m still stinging from how fast he turned me down.”

  “You like him, don’t you?”

  Tessa puffed out a frustrated sigh and dropped into the guest chair, which only gave her a bird’s-eye view of her dirty shorts and bare legs. “Look how I’m dressed. I look like a…a…”

  “A gardener, which you are. Listen, Tess, give the guy a chance.”

  “I did.”

  “No, you asked him to be a sperm donor.”

  “Well…”

  “If you hadn’t, you’d probably still be in the bed with him, maybe just now coming up for air.”

  Tessa let out a grunt and crossed her work boots. “I can’t do it. I can’t work with him.” She shook her head, trying so hard to convince herself that she meant that. “I mean, I guess I could, but he’s so…so…” Frickin’ hot it hurts.

  “I guess if he upsets you that much, then we’ll find someone else.”

  Tessa didn’t answer, mostly because she knew Lacey well enough to recognize that there was absolutely zero sincerity in that statement. She was ready to make the guy an offer now.

  From behind closed eyes, Tessa corralled her thoughts, but the only
thing her brain could conjure up were delphinium-blue eyes, hair the color of streaked hickory bark, and that menacing, deadly creature on his neck. Hell, he was a human garden of delights and dangers.

  “Does he upset you?”

  “Upset…” Doesn’t even begin to describe. She looked at Lacey and fired up some sarcasm. “Slightly.”

  Lacey grinned. “I remember that feeling.”

  “No.” She held her hand up to stop the inevitable—and wrong—comparisons. “This is different.”

  Lacey ignored her. “I still have that feeling, to be honest.”

  “No, no you don’t.”

  “Hell, yeah, I do. Last night, as a matter of fact—”

  “Lacey!” She slammed her hands on the armrests. “This isn’t like when you met Clay.”

  “It’s not?”

  “No, that was real. This is…not.”

  Lacey laughed. “You don’t know that yet. And trust me, I do know what you’re feeling.” She dropped down into the chair next to Tessa. “Is it so horrible if a guy turns you on, Tess? Would it be the end of the world to get a little wild and crazy with him?”

  She blinked at her. “I want to have a baby, not a fling with the tattooed man.”

  “Have both.”

  Could she do that? A powerful longing twisted through her whole body. Was that longing for him or just her usual maternal aching?

  She sat up, an idea occurring. “Isn’t that against the Casa Blanca employee rules?”

  Lacey laughed. “I’ll check the handbook I haven’t had time to create yet. Look, even if I had one, the property owner who fell into bed with her architect would be a hypocrite if she made a rule against fraternization.”

  Tessa dropped her head back. “I don’t think I can do it.”

  “Sure you could. You damn near did it the other night.”

  “I mean work with him. I’ll make a complete fool of myself.”

  Lacey laughed. “Could be fun.”

  “Fun for you and Joss and Zoe, maybe. Anyway, he seems to have no problem turning me down. It’s one thing to lust after a coworker, but it’s another to lust alone after a coworker.”

  “I don’t think he’ll hold out for long.”

  Lacey made it sound like fun and games, but the reality of the situation wasn’t fun, and getting pregnant wasn’t a game, despite her playful musings about seashells.

  “I told him I wanted a sperm donor. What’s he going to think when he finds out I’m cooking up my eggs and some stranger’s sperm in a test tube to be carried in another woman’s belly?” She let out a soft groan. “Oh, God, when I spell it out like that, it sounds so horrible, doesn’t it?”

  “Horrible?” Lacey was up and had her arm around Tessa in an instant, the move as natural as her next breath. “Honey, you want a baby and you’re moving heaven and earth to get it. You have to separate the two things. There is nothing horrible about wanting a baby and doing what you can to get one. That’s quite understandable. At the same time you met a man who makes your heart skip and your toes curl and the entire lower half of your body wake up and want to play. That’s understandable, too.”

  Tessa relaxed into a grin. “You do know how it feels.”

  “I do, and it’s awesome.”

  “With the right guy,” Tessa shot back. “Not a long-haired…”

  Lacey raised a brow.

  “Okay, tattooed…”

  And she smiled.

  Tessa had to laugh. “He does have a lot in common with your husband.”

  “Listen to me,” Lacey said softly. “I know that feeling, but I also know how it feels to hold your child. All I’m trying to say is there’s no law that you can’t try to have your baby and date the new chef. They aren’t mutually exclusive.”

  Except that dating and babies generally did have something to do with each other. Then Lacey’s words hit her brain. The new chef. “You’ve already hired him.”

  “I want to, assuming his references check out and he passes the physical.” Lacey gave a bad Groucho Marx eyebrow wag. “Which of course would give you all the info you need to know about his potential for all the jobs available at Casa Blanca…including sperm donor.”

  Oh, brother. “You’re not listening, Lace. He couldn’t have run away faster. He’s not—”

  “Hey, are you in there?”

  “Come on in, Joss,” Lacey called. “Tessa’s here, too.”

  “Did you see who is in the kitchen?” Jocelyn practically leaped into the room. “Scorpion Man!”

  Tessa dropped her head into her hands. “Could this get any worse?”

  “I already texted Zoe and told her,” Jocelyn added.

  “In other words, yes, it can get worse.” Tessa threw her hands up in surrender. “Look, if you hire him, Lacey, you all have to stop acting like we’re in middle school and I have a crush. I have to work with the guy, plus he’s not my type, and he couldn’t have been less interested in me in the bar the other night.”

  “He turned down your request to father a child,” Jocelyn said. “Prior to that, he was majorly interested.”

  “Interested in getting laid.”

  “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 déjà vu, harder than anything this boy could throw with his fist, slammed at Ian’s gut.

  Aaron. This kid was Aaron Shaw all over again. Something frighteningly close to hate fired through every nerve ending in his body at the thought of his young, stupid, punk of a brother-in-law. If it weren’t for Aaron Shaw, Ian wouldn’t be standing here, pretending to be someone else, desperate for a job he really didn’t even want.

  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.