Flirting with Felicity (5 page)

A homeless and hungry Mary Beth had shown up one day at
Felicity’s Hungry Hearts program. They’d been the best of friends ever since.

Mary Beth grinned. “Good. Now, let’s put that gratitude to
work and cook up something wonderful.”

Felicity nodded as she hooked her arm through Mary Beth’s and
headed back onto the sidewalk and toward the hotel and the kitchen of the Dolce
Vita.

Cooking might help her forget how much she should dislike the
man who’d invaded her life this morning. But instead of anger and possible
resentment, warmth crept through her veins and stole up her cheeks as she
remembered Blake’s handsome face and the way his smile had softened his
features when he’d looked at her. She forced the thought away. What was it Mary
Beth had said?

Something
wonderful.

Yes, they’d create something wonderful. There hadn’t been
much of that in her life so far, but Felicity liked the way that sounded.

“Are you sure you’re up to this challenge?” Reid Fairfax
asked from across his desk in his downtown Seattle office.

Destiny Carrow sat in the chair opposite the editor-in-chief
of the
Seattle
Gazette
, Seattle’s only newspaper, and smiled. “Of course, that’s
why I’m here. That’s why I wrote that horrible review of Felicity’s restaurant.”
That’s why she’d turned her back on her onetime friend. Success came with a
price, and for Destiny that price was friendship. “What do you want me to do
now?”

Reid sat back in his chair, contemplating her. The man was
different than she’d expected. He looked older than the pictures she’d seen
online while researching him. His short, kinky dark hair was threaded with
gray. His tall, deep-chested frame carried a few more pounds, but the slightly
cynical expression in his eyes was exactly the same as every picture she’d ever
seen. He was a hard man, and most likely a cruel man, but she needed what he
offered her—the job she’d been coveting for the last three years on the news
desk. With his help, she could finally make the transition from food writer to
reporter, first on a local level, then national. It was her dream, and nothing,
not even friendship, would stand in her way to achieve that goal.

“All right, let’s get to new business. The Bancrofts are our
target now.”

“Why? What do you want me to do?”

“I want to ruin what’s left of them.”

Destiny frowned. “I thought Felicity was the target.”

He smiled. “She’s the distraction. She was to the old man,
and she will be for me. It took me a while to find the old man, hiding away
here in Seattle under a false name, but I eventually did.”

“Why do you want to ruin them?”

Reid’s smile became set in place. “Vernon Bancroft’s father
and my grandfather were business partners. That’s how Vernon got the money he
needed to open those hotels.” Reid’s eyes became glazed as though remembering a
time long ago. “My grandfather was the CFO of the company at the time Vernon
took his father’s place. My grandfather made the mistake once of borrowing
money from the accounts he oversaw, and Vernon removed him from the board,
dissolved their partnership, and tossed him out of the company.”

“Sounds like embezzling,” Destiny said with the hint of a
laugh.

Reid glared at her. “He borrowed the money. He would have
paid it back, but Vernon never gave him the opportunity.”

“That was a long time ago.”

Reid shook his head slowly. “Vernon’s actions have affected
my family for years. My grandfather drank himself to death. My father followed
the same path after years of trying to sue Bancroft Industries into giving him
a piece of what should have been his legacy.”

Destiny curled her fingers in her lap, fighting the urge to
grab a notepad and a pencil and start scribbling down notes. The angry look in
Reid’s eyes told her that wouldn’t be wise. She’d simply have to remember and
research after she was done here. “So what does any of this have to do with
Blake Bancroft?”

“Blake’s the only remaining Bancroft. Since part of Bancroft
Industries should belong to me, and he’s the CEO, he’s the target,” Reid said.

“You want some sort of financial compensation for something
that happened years ago?” Destiny asked, suddenly uncomfortable with the role
she’d accepted. She had no wish to end her career before it even began. Blake
Bancroft had power and influence that Reid Fairfax did not.

“I want to tarnish the Bancroft name the way Vernon tarnished
the Fairfax name. You know the saying ‘Never argue with someone who buys ink by
the barrel.’” Reid’s gaze suddenly became clear, and he focused in on her.

“Blake Bancroft is no fool. How do you expect me to take him
down?”

“We can’t strip him of his power or his money, but we can
humiliate him. Bancroft needs investors just as much as anyone. And no one
wants to back a loser. Do that, and I’ll promote you to the news desk of the
Seattle
Gazette
.”

Destiny studied his eyes a moment, searching for sincerity in
what he’d offered. It was all she wanted—a job as a reporter. Seeing nothing
but the truth, she nodded. “All right. I’ll approach Blake. I’ll let him think
I’m trying to do an exposé on Felicity instead. Then, I’ll start digging into
his past. Everyone has secrets. I’ll use his to our advantage.”

Determined to do anything she had to in order to get that
job, Destiny said goodbye to Reid, then headed for the door. She’d already
turned her back on friendship. What more would it take?

While her crew finished closing down the kitchen,
Felicity headed out to check on things in the bar. After eleven, only Michael
and Casper would remain on duty to serve a limited menu to the late-night
patrons of the bar. However, she always liked to see how busy they were before
heading home. The thought brought a smile. Tonight, her journey home would only
involve a trip to the second floor. Living in the hotel had its perks.

The cozy leather wingback chairs were filled with Seattleites
and visitors just as in days past. She’d learned today that this very room once
hosted the Vanderbilts and the Guggenheims upon opening over 105 years ago. The
lounge’s signature drinks still welcomed authors, musicians, and artists. At
the highly polished mahogany bar, Ryan, her bartender, garnished a Haute Toddy
with a cinnamon stick and a lemon twist before setting it on Valerie’s tray to
be delivered to one of their guests.

At her approach, Ryan smiled. “Sit yourself down for a
minute.”

Felicity slipped into one of the tall wooden chairs at the
busy bar and took off her chef’s cap. She smoothed her fingers over her hair,
tidying any loose strands back toward her usual ponytail. “Things are hopping
tonight.”

He reached behind him for a tall flute and a bottle of
champagne. “Nothing we can’t handle.” He filled the flute with bubbly liquid
and set it before her.

“What’s this?”

“A small celebration of your exciting news,” Ryan said with a
wide smile. “Not every day a girl inherits a fortune.”

Felicity contemplated the bubbles erupting inside her glass.
She ached to talk to someone who would understand the fear and the joy that
whispered through her since the reading of Vern’s will. She was tempted to pour
out her troubles to the man who had proven more than once what a good listener
he was. Instead, she only allowed her fear to take form as a thought:
It’s not mine
yet.
She lifted her glass in a salute. “Cheers.” She took a sip.

“Enjoy, and let me know if I can do anything to help,” he
said before moving away to serve another customer.

At this point, she wasn’t sure she could do anything other
than trust that she could make Blake see why she so desperately wanted to keep
what Vern had given her. She continued to stare down into her glass as the
sound of soft, soulful rhythm of Brazilian jazz tried to soothe her.

“Is this seat taken?”

At the sound of Blake’s voice, her heart gave a wild leap.
She twisted around to see him.

He stood a few feet behind her, tall and straight. He’d
changed out of his suit and into faded blue Levi’s and an expensive-looking
gray sweater. If it were possible, he looked even more handsome than he had
this morning, despite the loss of his three-thousand-dollar suit.

Great.
She’d hoped to look her best the next time they met, not garbed in the most
unattractive uniform possible. Her chef’s coat and black pants had always been
comforting to her before this moment. “It’s a public place. I can’t stop you
from sitting wherever you choose,” she said, trying to recover her balance and
ignore the tug of his eyes and voice.

Taking her discouraging words as an invitation, he slid into
the seat beside her. “Celebrating?” he asked with a nod at her glass.

She shrugged. “A gift from Ryan,” she said a little
breathlessly as she raised her champagne flute and took a sip.

Blake signaled for Ryan. The bartender answered Blake’s
summons instantly. “What’ll it be?”

“The same,” he said, motioning to Felicity’s glass.

Ryan turned and filled another flute with champagne. When he
returned, he set Blake’s glass before him, then set the bottle between them. “Let
me know if you need anything else,” he said before moving away.

She was uncertain why the interaction upset her, but it did.
Blake expected service, and people jumped to do his bidding. Well, she wouldn’t
be one of those people no matter what his warm, intimate look did to her
insides. He could have cocktails all by himself, or with whomever would have
him. She had things to do before their day tomorrow.

Felicity moved to stand, but Blake tipped his glass to hers.
His eyes glinted with humor and, instead of standing, she found herself
settling back into her chair.

“To the next two days together,” he toasted as he leaned
forward.

Their gazes held. The moment spilled out, lengthened in an
odd way that made her heartbeat speed up. “Yes, and may the best
person
win.” She’d almost said “man,” before she’d caught herself. She didn’t need to
give him any more of an edge, even verbally, than he already had.

Felicity brought her glass up to his with a clink of sound
and took a long sip of her champagne as Blake continued to study her. “The
first time Dom Pérignon tasted champagne, he said, ‘Come quickly, I am tasting
stars.’ It aptly describes champagne, don’t you think?”

He took a sip from his own glass, then set it down. His lips
turned up in a lazy, devastating smile. “You have very delicate fingers.”

With slightly shaking fingers, Felicity set down her glass
and folded her hands together on the top of the bar. She had delicate fingers?
Was he flirting with her? Unsettled by the words, and slightly suspicious of
his motives, Felicity stood as the hammering of her heart began again.

“Since you’re down here, want a tour of the kitchen? We’ll be
spending lots of time there tomorrow.”

“With pleasure.”

The husky sincerity of his deep voice snatched her breath
away.

He drained his glass, set it on the bar, then reached for his
wallet.

Felicity stalled his hand before he could remove a bill. “This
one’s on me.” Her fingers grazed his skin. At the whisper of a touch, she could
feel the tension thrumming through him, felt an answering response within
herself.

He smiled, his gaze warm and sensual, as he moved toward her.
“Lead the way.”

A quiet moment ticked past as her heartbeat returned to
normal. What was it about him that always made her feel a little off-kilter?
They walked side by side down the hallway and through the swinging door
separating the dining area from the kitchen. “The kitchen was moved to its
current location in 1966. The equipment has been modernized, of course. It’s
competitive now.”

Pride swelled as she looked over the spotless workspace.
Shiny stainless steel prep stations lined the white tiled walls of the kitchen.
The back wall was lined with a row of convection ovens. And in the center of
the spotless kitchen was an island outfitted with several cooking stations.

At their entrance, her employees stopped working and turned
in their direction. Suspicion darkened their faces. Felicity pasted on a
cheerful smile, trying to dispel the sudden tension. Along with her news of
inheriting the hotel and restaurant, she was certain they’d also shared who
Blake Bancroft was. “Let me introduce you to some of my staff.” She motioned to
her right. “This is Michael,” she said, nodding to the older of the two men who
wiped down the prep stations. “He has four kids all under the age of six. And
this is Casper. He supports his mother and his two sisters.”

She turned toward the back wall and motioned toward Mary
Beth. She stacked long baking sheets on a rack beside the huge ovens. “This is
Mary Beth. She supports a six-month-old daughter and a brother who lost both
his legs fighting in Afghanistan.” Felicity turned back to Blake. “There are
ten others who work in this kitchen and in the restaurant—people with hopes and
dreams and dependents.” She left the last word hanging.

To his credit, Blake left her side and went to greet each of
them with a handshake and one of his devastating smiles. “Sounds like you have
a very dedicated team working for you. It doesn’t matter who the boss is. Good
people will always be able to find good jobs.”

“They’re dedicated to the Bancroft Hotel and to each other.
They love what they do and, because of it, they go that extra mile,” Felicity
replied.

Across the room, Mary Beth yawned. “Sorry,” she apologized. “I
feel like I’ve gone several extra miles today. My late night is catching up
with me.”

“Go home. I can finish up here.”

A hopeful looked settled over Mary Beth’s face. “I could
really use some sleep.”