Recipe for Kisses (13 page)

“I don’t give a damn . . .” Ben started to yell then took a breath and made his tone softer. “I don’t give a damn about photo ops with local celebrities, and I can’t name one person I’d call a real friend.”

“I’m your friend,” Michael said with a sniff, clearly offended.

“I pay you.” Ben went to the stove, took the lid off the pot simmering, and cursed. “I need burners with even heat. This is a joke.”

Michael stepped closer. “Are you cooking?”

Ben rolled his eyes. “What does it look like?”

“But there are no cameras. No restaurant critics waiting.” His eyes widened. “You haven’t invited a critic to your dad’s house?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Ben adjusted the knob on the back burner. “I’m prepping dinner.” He dipped a spoon in the sauce and held it out to Michael. “Try this.”

“What is it?”

“Try it.”

Michael took the spoon, studied the wine-colored sauce for a moment then ate it. His eyes drifted shut then popped open. “Holy shit, that’s good.”

“It’s a glaze for the meatloaf.”

“Did you just say meatloaf?” Michael sputtered, dropping the spoon to the counter.

“Zach’s request.” Ben grinned at his dumbfounded publicist. “So far this week, he’s tried chicken pot pie, baked ziti, and fish tacos made with panko crumbs.”

“You’ve turned into fucking Betty Crocker.”

“I’m cooking for my family and enjoying myself in the kitchen for the first time in years.”

“We need to get you out of Denver, stat.”

“I’m not leaving.” Ben grabbed the hunk of Gruyère cheese he planned to use for the scalloped potatoes and started grating it into a small bowl. “Yet.”

“Don’t be an idiot. This isn’t you, Beast.”

“I hate that name and you know it.”

“Then why aren’t you yelling at me? I know I’m pissing you off. Where is the temper that made you rich and famous?”

“I’m working on controlling it.”

“That temper is who you are.”

“Not all of who I am,” Ben said, more to himself than to Michael. He smiled at the memory of Chloe saying those words to him. Of her soft skin and the sounds she made when he was holding her. Of how he felt and what he became when they were together. How for the first time in forever he actually liked himself.

“What about the restaurant plans?” Michael tapped an impatient finger on the scratched Formica counter. “Mark—the realtor—told me you didn’t like anything he showed you.”

“They were all crap,” Ben said even though that wasn’t true. “I want a different realtor.”

“He’s the best commercial guy in the city.”

“I don’t care.”

“Why should I bother when you’re determined to waste your money on that dumpy toy store location?”

“I’m not sure that’s going to work out, either,” Ben said, voicing the words for the first time. His stomach rolled in response. With Chloe working so hard to get the money for the back rent and his niece and nephew by her side, the thought of exacting his revenge no longer held much appeal.

“Seriously?” Michael looked stunned. “That’s all you’ve talked about since you bought the building. What’s going on with you?”

“I don’t know,” Ben yelled, his temper finally getting the best of him. “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing here, ok?” His hand slipped and the bowl of cheese went skidding along the counter before crashing to the floor, cheese and shards of glass spilling in every direction. “Damn it,” he roared then glanced up to see his publicist grinning.

“It makes me nervous when you’re quiet,” Michael said. “Where’s a broom? I’ll help clean up.”

Ben pointed toward the small closet on the far side of the kitchen then cursed again when the pot on the stove started bubbling over, brown glaze sizzling as it hit the stove top.

“If you don’t know what you’re doing here, I’ve got the perfect solution.” Michael swept the debris into a dustpan as he spoke. “Perfect enough to get your attention in the midst of all this homemaking bliss.”

“I told you I’m on a break.”

“James Wyatt wants you. He’s ready for a new project and wants you to develop the menu for it.”

Ben turned off the heat on the stove then used a potholder to nudge the saucepan onto a cool burner. James Wyatt was famous in the industry. His investment company held a majority interest in more five-star restaurants than any other group in the world. “I told you I’m not working in someone else’s kitchen again.”

“He’s going to give you an ownership percentage. Obviously, he likes what you did at La Lune. But this is about you. Your concept, design, and menu. You call the shots here, Ben. He provides the space and the financial backing.”

“What’s he getting in return?”

“Do you know how difficult it is to launch a top-tier restaurant in the current market, even if you are as well known as Wyatt? He gets your name and star power, plus a stake in the profits, of course. You didn’t ask me the location.” Michael practically jumped up and down. “That’s the best part.”

“Where?”

“It will be the flagship restaurant at The Pointe. Can you believe it? It’s all yours, Ben. This is it. This is the dream right here and now.”

The sudden anticipation roaring in his ears drowned out the publicist’s voice. The Pointe was the new hotel being built in Las Vegas, with a construction budget that almost doubled what had been spent on the Bellagio. He’d seen the preliminary design plans a few months ago and they were mind-boggling. The hotel was set to be the shiniest, fanciest star on the Vegas strip. Having his name on the restaurant would silence every critic who’d called him a sellout after he left for EatTV. It would prove he could create a world-class menu, and money would be no object.

“I’ve got to think about Abby and Zach,” he said automatically.

“They’re kids,” Michael countered. “Move them to Vegas with you if you’re so dedicated.”

Ben had talked to Cory last Sunday on the phone, and his brother had made him promise that he wouldn’t bring either of the kids to see him in prison. Cory didn’t want them to see him in the beige jumpsuit or experience the trauma of having to come through prison security for a visit. Zach had cried openly after talking to his dad, and Abby had spent the rest of the night with her bedroom door closed. He could, he reasoned, relocate them to Las Vegas. It wasn’t as if they had hordes of close friends in Denver.

Other than Chloe.

He glanced at the clock, realizing he was due to pick them up from the toy store in fifteen minutes. “When does he want an answer?”

“You mean it’s not an automatic yes?” Michael shook his head. “Living at this altitude has messed with your head. You’re not going to get a better opportunity than this. Ever.”

“How much time do I have?” Ben asked, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at his publicist.

“They want to make an initial announcement by the end of the month,” Michael answered, his jaw clenched tight. “Negotiations on specifics can happen after that.”

Ben gave a sharp nod. “You’ll have my decision by then. Send me whatever details you have.”

“You’re making a mistake if you don’t take this. Plus I talked to the people at EatTV. They’re willing to compress the shooting schedule and change the format to work around the build out of the restaurant.”

“Damn it, Michael, I want an excuse to be done with the show and you know it.”

“Did you hear what I said? Wyatt wants you because of your celebrity-chef status. We need to capitalize on your relationship with EatTV, not piss them off more than you already have.” He leveled Ben with his patented “I know what’s best for your career” stare.

“I’m sick of being ‘The Beast.’”

“You need it.”

“I need a break.” Ben tossed a handful of spices into a mixing bowl.

“To make meatloaf?”

“To do whatever the hell I want.”

“Including a curly-haired toy-store owner?”

Ben’s fingers tightened on the edge of the stainless steel bowl. “What do you know about Chloe?”

“Mark mentioned that she was a distraction when you looked at properties.”

“She was the reason I agreed to meet with a realtor in the first place.”

Michael shook his head. “You’re losing focus—the kids are one thing, but if your dick—”

“Stop.” Ben held up a hand, unexpected rage pulsing through him. “You’ve been with me from the start of this, Michael, but no one is irreplaceable. Before you say one more word, you need to understand that.”

“I’m looking out for what’s best,” the publicist argued.

“For me or you?”

“Both of us. We’re a team.”

“Then take a time-out.” Ben dumped the sauce into a metal bowl, placed it in the refrigerator, and then washed his hands. “You’ll hear from me by the end of the month. Right now, I’m going to pick up Abby and Zach.” He grinned at Michael. “You’re welcome to stay for meatloaf.”

The other man made a gagging sound. “I haven’t choked down a bite of meatloaf since my mom served it every week. Meatloaf Mondays. The smell still makes me nauseous.”

Ben only smiled. “This is not your mother’s meatloaf. Trust me.”

“I’m going to take your word on that. Besides, I have a flight booked in a couple of hours. Taking the red-eye back to New York. The fresh air out here really bugs me.” He stepped forward as Ben laughed and held out a hand.

Ben shook it and Michael smiled. “I’m sorry I came down hard on you. I know it hasn’t been an easy time, and I’m on your side. The right side.”

As Ben got in the Range Rover after locking the front door behind himself and Michael, he realized he couldn’t blame the man for pushing him. Ben had worked with single-minded determination since he left home to make himself a success, and Michael had definitely helped him get to where he was now. He’d accomplished everything he’d ever dreamed of, and the final jewel in his crown was closing down Butterfield’s store. Only it wasn’t Stan Butterfield who was going to be devastated by his plan. It was Chloe.

He knew that closing the store wouldn’t exact the same revenge he and his brother had planned as kids, but Cory’s insistence that The Toy Chest was the root of his problems made the situation impossible. Ben was going to hurt someone who genuinely seemed to want to help him make his life better. The irony of it burned at his gut and made his skin feel like it was being peeled away one strip at a time.

What if she didn’t raise the money she needed? What if she did and he put her out of business anyway? He hadn’t thought past ruining The Toy Chest to what he’d actually do with the space. He knew what was expected of him if he returned to Las Vegas. He could find the most expensive, exotic ingredients and turn them into works of art for the rich and sometimes famous to dine on. In Vegas, image was everything. Ben’s bad-boy reputation coupled with a good dose of attitude, James Wyatt’s deep pockets, and the right amount of skill in the kitchen would all but ensure success. He knew how to make it work.

What did he know about opening a restaurant in a family neighborhood, where Saturday night meant a bicycle ride to the nearest pizza place and ice cream store? Maybe Michael was right and Ben should stick with what he knew. The question was, what would it cost him to walk away?

C
HAPTER TEN

“Y
ou can’t be serious about this dress?”

Chloe and Sam exchanged a look as Jenny Castelli held up the magazine to the page Kendall had bookmarked. Jenny had grown up with Ty Bishop, and she and Kendall had formed an unlikely friendship since Kendall had started dating Ty. Chloe liked the fiery redhead, who made Sam seem almost demure with her blunt manners and comments. Until Jenny, Sam had been the least reserved person Chloe’d ever met. The two of them together would make a good stand-up comedy act.

The four women were sitting around the kitchen table in Ty and Kendall’s cozy, Craftsman-style kitchen. Ty was out of town at a conference for a few days, so Kendall had invited her three bridesmaids for drinks, takeout, and brainstorming on wedding plans.

“I like it,” Kendall said, tilting her head to stare at the dress. “It’s fresh.”

“It looks like the grass my dog eats and pukes up,” Jenny said, adding in gagging sound effects, “when he has an upset stomach.”

“Ty loves nature,” Kendall answered with a delicate sniff, “so I wanted you guys in a dress that reflected his tastes.”

“Why not just put us in empty manure bags with sticks in our hair?” Jenny took a long pull on her beer then wiped the back of her hand across her mouth.

Kendall grimaced then glanced at Chloe and Sam. “What about you two? Do you both hate it?”

“Sweetie, it’s your day,” Chloe said carefully. “All eyes will be on the bride, so we’ll wear whatever you want us to.”

Sam plucked the magazine from Jenny’s fingers. “It’s not that bad.”

“Hell, no.” Jenny shook her head. “Models don’t get a vote. When your legs stop at your armpits, everything looks good.”

“I want to elope,” Kendall said with a sigh, scooping up a forkful of pad thai. “This is too hard.”

“Great idea,” Jenny agreed. “We can book you a package tonight. Tahiti? Bora Bora? Pick your poison.”

“My poison,” Kendall mumbled. “Thanks, Jenny.”

Sam pointed at the redhead. “When was the last time you wore a dress?”

Jenny bristled, crossing her arms over her chest. “Last week at an event I went to with Owen.” She paused and grabbed a spring roll from the plate on the center of the table. “Right before I broke up with him.”

“You didn’t,” Kendall said.

Sam muttered something that sounded a lot like, “Idiot.”

“It was going to happen eventually.” Jenny took a halfhearted bite of the spring roll. “Better to make a clean break now than postpone the inevitable. It wasn’t like we were a real couple.”

Chloe felt a sharp pang of sympathy for the other woman. Those were practically the same words she’d said to herself when she thought about ending whatever was going on between Ben and her.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Sam said then held up her hands when Jenny glared. “Sorry, I’m used to correcting the kids at camp.”

“That’s just . . .” Jenny paused, finished chewing then threw down the uneaten half of spring roll. “That’s just it. My manners are horrible and I know it. After last week, so do Owen and all the fancy-schmancy people he hangs out with. I will never fit into his world.”

Chloe had only met Owen Dalton on a couple of occasions, but had immediately liked the high-tech entrepreneur-turned-philanthropist. He might be one of the richest men in the country, but Owen seemed unconcerned with his wealth and status. He had a passion for technology, and that was what kept him working and grounded. Earlier that year, he’d been one of the men selected to go out with Kendall as part of an online dating feature sponsored by the station she worked for at the time. Of course, off camera Kendall had been falling in love with Ty, but she and Owen had become friends. From everything Kendall had said, Owen had been smitten with brash and beautiful Jenny the first time he’d met her.

“I doubt he cares about your manners,” Chloe offered.

“He cares that he caught me kissing another man in the coat closet,” Jenny said, almost defiantly.

Kendall gasped. “Jenny, no. Why? You care about Owen.”

Jenny bit down on her lip. “And now I’ve publicly humiliated him.” She pointed to Sam. “You can pull your eyebrows out of your hairline, Cover Girl. You’ll need Botox sooner than later if you keep wrinkling your face that way.”

Sam rubbed her fingers over her forehead. “Take shots at me all you want, Jen. It won’t change the fact that you’re a cheater.”

Jenny bristled for a moment then her expression crumpled and she dropped her head into her hands. “It wasn’t like that,” she said on a sob. “I never wanted to hurt Owen.”

“Were you wasted?” Sam asked, and Chloe nudged her. “It’s a fair question,” Sam whispered.

“I wasn’t . . .” Jenny paused, sniffed then shook her head. “I was a little drunk. Those events make me so nervous. All the uppity people staring at me like I should be parking their cars instead of polluting their air with my presence.”

“Nothing wrong with parking cars,” Kendall said. Chloe knew Kendall’s father had worked most of his life as a country-club valet. “Don’t let them make you believe they’re better than you.” Kendall stood and grabbed a roll of paper towels from the counter. “Here, hon,” she said, handing a few to Jenny. “Tell us what happened.”

“What happened is I lo—” Jenny blew her nose into a paper towel and struggled to catch a breath. Chloe had never imagined the tiny, tough-as-nails woman could ever be so emotional. “I liked Owen and I screwed it up. I told him things would never work between us, but he wouldn’t listen. He just kept saying he liked me the way I am.”

“Very Bridget Jones,” Sam murmured, earning a confused glance from Jenny. “Do you watch anything but horror flicks?” Sam asked her.

“The
Fast and Furious
series,” Jenny answered.

Sam rolled her eyes. “Next girls’ night, we’re doing a chick-flick movie marathon.”

“Why would you want to hang out with me ever again?” Jenny sniffled.

“Because we like women who ugly cry worse than we do?” Sam offered.

Jenny flipped her the middle finger, but one side of her mouth curved.

“Don’t mind her.” Chloe scooted to the seat next to Jenny and gave her a gentle hug. “Sam’s idea of support is to berate you into feeling better.”

“It actually works.” Jenny honked into another paper towel. “I’ve never had friends before.” She glanced at Kendall. “Other than Ty.”

“You’re like a sister to him,” Kendall confirmed with a gentle smile.

“So we were at the part where you made out with another dude in the coat closet.” Sam balanced her wineglass between two elegant fingers, taking a small sip. “And then . . .”

“Owen found us.”

“That sucks,” Sam murmured.

Jenny stared at the table. “I knew he would. We were getting ready to leave and he had to say good-bye to a few people. I told him I was going to the bathroom and asked him to grab my shawl and meet me by the entrance. There was a guy who’d been giving me the eye all night, so I grabbed him and pulled him into the coat closet.”

“You planned for Owen to discover you in someone else’s arms?” Kendall sounded as confused as Chloe felt.

“He believed that we could be together,” Jenny said, her voice hoarse. “He told me our differences didn’t matter.”

“Did Owen use the L-word?” Sam took another, longer drink.

Jenny nodded. “It was stupid and cowardly. I’d just met the guy, and I couldn’t have cared less about him. But in case you didn’t realize, I’m the queen of self-sabotage. When life is good, I’m always waiting for it to turn bad, and most of the time I screw it up because that’s what’s going to happen anyway. The only thing I’ve done right in my life is Cooper.” Chloe knew she was referring to her ten-year-old son. “I never let anyone get as close to me as Owen did. As much as I hate to admit being a chicken, it scared the hell out of me. I broke his heart before he could break mine.”

All three women nodded. There was no shortage of man hang-ups in this room.

“I threw up in the bathroom after Owen was gone. I didn’t come out until everyone else had left and the cleaning crew came through. Owen was with a group of people when he discovered me.” She shook her head, and her voice clogged a little. “He looked so stunned, like he couldn’t believe it was me. I humiliated him, and do you know what he did?”

“Called you a low-life slut?” Sam suggested.

Kendall slapped her on the arm. “What did he do?”

“He had a car waiting for me.” Jenny’s mouth pinched hard. “I came out of that building and his driver insisted on taking me home. Said Owen wanted to make sure I made it there safely.”

Kendall and Chloe sighed.

Sam wiped under her eyes with two fingers then pointed at Jenny. “You need a shot.” She stood, her chair scraping against the hardwood floor as she went to one of the cabinets and pulled out four small glasses. “Where do you keep the liquor?”

Kendall moved to the pantry door and opened it. “Tequila or Jäger?”

Chloe gathered the used paper towels and brought them to the garbage can. “Your call, Jen.”

Jenny stared at the three of them. “Got any limes?” she asked Kendall.

“Tequila it is,” Kendall answered. “Sam, grab the limes from the fridge.”

Three shots later, they were back to flipping through magazines. “Some of these aren’t bad,” Sam said then looked at Jenny. “Are you going to try to fix it?”

“Kendall’s taste in dresses?” Jenny asked, digging her spoon into a pint of Ben & Jerry’s. Kendall always had ice cream on hand.

“Your relationship with Owen,” Sam clarified and poured them each another finger of liquor.

Jenny shook her head, and Chloe noticed the redhead seemed to have a fuzzy golden aura around her hair. Maybe Chloe should refuse any more tequila. “It’s better this way. We were too different. There were too many things that had the potential to pull us apart.”

“In addition to you being a coward?” Sam cut another lime and placed a wedge in front of each woman.

“Enough support from you,” Kendall said, giving Sam another poke.

“I think I’ve had enough to drink,” Chloe said as she looked at another magazine. The bride on the cover seemed to wink at her. That was impossible, right?

“One more,” Jenny told her. “Don’t make me say Cover Girl is a better friend than you.”

Sam shook her head. “I did Maybelline, never CoverGirl.”

“Would it offend you if I didn’t know the difference?” Jenny giggled, and the sound was so ridiculous coming from the tiny spitfire that it made Chloe giggle, too. Then Kendall started laughing and pretty soon all four of them were doubled over. Tequila and ice cream—a cure-all combination.

As they tipped back the final shot, Chloe, who didn’t mind her reputation as a lightweight, thought the alcohol went down smoother the more she drank. “This one.” She pressed her finger against a page in the magazine and tapped it a few times. Funny, she couldn’t feel the tip.

“That’s a tux,” Kendall said, squinting to focus on the photo.

Chloe looked again then adjusted her finger to point to a woman wearing a cocktail-length, sage-green dress. It had thin straps, a fitted bodice, and an A-line waist that would flatter each woman’s figure. Chloe was pretty sure she had a winner.

A loopy smile broke across Kendall’s face. “Oh,” she breathed. “I love it. I’m going to be jealous of my bridesmaids.”

Jenny snatched the magazine and held it above her head, leaning back as she moved it closer then farther from her face. “It might work.” She seemed to try to wink at Chloe but couldn’t quite reopen her eye. “We won’t look like total dog meat next to Maybelline over there.”

Sam burped in response, making all of them laugh again.

“Unless,” Jenny suggested, “you reconsider eloping. I’ve heard Vegas can be quite romantic.”

Kendall held out a hand. “Give me the photo so you don’t end up puking all over it.”

“I’m not a puker.” Jenny sounded affronted.

“Even if I really wanted to elope, I can’t disappoint my mother that way.” Kendall hiccupped then sniffed. “She’s been calling every week with ideas and is already working on my veil.”

“You haven’t set a date,” Chloe said.

“Doesn’t matter,” Kendall said, although to Chloe it sounded like “cousin splatter.”

“Speaking of Vegas,” Sam said, slamming her hand onto the table. “How’s Chef Hottie?”

“Are you ’loping?” Jenny held out her fist. “Don’t leave me hangin’, sista.”

Chloe gave the redhead a tentative fist bump. “I’m not eloping with Ben. Or anyone.” She shook her head. “Marriage and I did not agree.”

“Because you were married to a jackass,” Sam interjected.

“I thought Ben Haddox was a jackass.” Jenny held out her hands, wiggling her fingers as she gazed at them.

“He’s not,” Chloe said.

“We
know
he’s hot,” Jenny told her.

“I said he’s
not
. A jackass.” Chloe picked up the lime, stuck out her tongue, and touched it to the tangy pulp. “But he’s different. Like you were saying with Owen. We come from different places and it can’t last.”

“Ty and I are different, but that’s part of what I love about him.”

“Not everyone is built for love,” Sam said, staring at the ceiling. “Some people don’t have it in them.” She lifted a finger in front of her face then turned it toward her own forehead. “Like me.”

“And me.”

“And maybe Ben,” Chloe whispered.

“You three are the most maudlin bridal party I’ve ever met.” Kendall sighed. “I can’t wait for my bachelorette party.”

That comment made them laugh again. “The new season of
Downton Abbey
is available On Demand,” Sam said. “Who’s with me?”

Kendall and Chloe raised their hands while Jenny blinked. “What about
Pawn Stars
?” she asked.

They made their way, with only a few detours into walls or doorways, into the family room. Within minutes of watching the period drama, Sam and Jenny were snoring. They sat shoulder to shoulder on the couch, Jenny’s head propped against Sam’s shirtsleeve.

Chloe knew she should be tired, but energy revved through her. She shifted on the leather chair where she sat, pulled her phone out of her back pocket, and automatically checked the store’s Facebook page. Ever since Abby had made herself the moderator, she’d been posting content to boost engagement on the social media fan page. Two customers had made positive comments about a picture from the most recent story-time event. Chloe started to post a status update herself but thought better of it. At least she wasn’t that drunk. Next she typed Ben’s name into the Internet search bar and pressed the “images” tab.