Sizzle in the City (14 page)

“To New York,” the house manager said calmly, not realizing the bombshell he’d dropped.

“He’s coming here?” Trevor said woodenly.

“Yes, sir. I thought you were aware. He went to New York this morning. He should be there sometime this evening.”

“How…interesting.” Trevor’s grip tightened on the receiver. “Thank you, Chambers.”

“Good day, sir.”

As Trevor disconnected, he heard shuffling behind him. He turned to see Shelby heading toward him. As seemed to be her wardrobe preference of late, she wore only his shirt, her fiery hair was mussed and she’d never looked more beautiful.

Lazily, she wrapped her arms around his waist and tucked her head beneath his chin. “If you ever have the urge to call me before the sun comes up, resist.”

The tightness in his stomach over his father’s impending visit eased. “The last thing this city needs is a cranky, sleep-deprived caterer.”

“A little coffee will help—especially since sleeping with you doesn’t lead to much rest—but I think I can manage breakfast.”

“Don’t you want to know who I was talking to?”

“Do you want me to know?”

He wanted to share everything with her. Though they’d only known each other a few weeks, she’d become an essential part of his life. If they could get through this ordeal with Max, maybe they’d have a chance. “How do you feel about having dinner with an earl?”

She jerked her head up. “You know another earl besides your father?”

“I do, actually. But my father’s the one who will be coming to dinner. Expecting to surprise me.”

In a purely feminine gesture, she tucked her tangled hair behind her ears. “When did you find that out?”

“Two minutes ago.”

“Okay. Is he going to yell at you?”

He nearly laughed at the mental picture of His Lordship, Earl of Westmore, in a screaming match. “No.”

“But he’s pissed about something.”

“Undoubtedly.”

“Max?”

“That’s a safe bet.”

“So we probably shouldn’t tell him about Project Robin Hood.”

Her calm acceptance dispelled his nerves. If anyone was used to his father’s cold temper, it was him. He’d protected and defended Max at the earl’s direction, he could hardly be blamed for this awful business now. His conscience reminded him often enough of the missteps over the last few years.

“Probably not,” Trevor agreed.

She let go of him and shuffled to the kitchen, where she stuck her head into the fridge. “How do you feel about eggs?”

“I know I can make them.” He took the carton from her hand. “You don’t have to wait on me.”

She took the carton back. “I like feeding people. You, in particular. It’s a compulsion.”

Before he could so much as blink, she was cracking eggs and whipping them together in a bowl. “I thought your father was all about manners and social etiquette.”

“He is. When it suits him.”

“So showing up uninvited doesn’t violate some highbrow rule?”

“Probably.”

“When will he be here?”

“A few hours.”

She poured the eggs into a pan on the stove. “Where do you want to go? I may need to meet you there, depending on how my prep work goes today.”

“I expect our conversation will be personal. How about if I pick something up, and we eat here?”

“Take-out food?” she asked in horror. “Are you trying to insult me?”

“My father pops into town without notice. I don’t expect you to cook for him.”

“But you want me to meet him?”

It was a bit early for a meet-the-parents date, he guessed. But everything about this relationship was different from all the others. Plus, he had to admit a certain curiosity for how his father and lover would take to each other. “I’m going to have to tell him about Max—all of the evidence against him. I’d like you to be with me when I do.”

“I’ll be there, and I’d like to cook. He’ll be less cranky if he’s full.”

“What a dreamer you are.” He scooped the eggs onto two plates, then handed her one, while he leaned next to the counter beside her. “Okay, then. But I’m buying all the ingredients, and you’re not serving us.”

“Deal.” She devoured her eggs. “I could use a kitchen assistant.”

“There are quite a few things I can accomplish in the kitchen.” He polished off his breakfast. Taking her empty plate, he set it aside and moved between her legs, which she wrapped around him. “Should I demonstrate?”

She smiled. “Mmm. That would be nice.” But when he moved in to kiss her, she planted her finger on his chest and held him back. “However, since now I have a dinner to prep as well as my regular work, romance is going to have to wait.”

He trailed his fingertip across her cheek. “Anticipation can be good.”

“After we get rid of Pops, I’m all yours.”

He winced. “You’re not really going to call him Pops, are you?”

“Nervous, maybe?” She scooted off the counter. “Can I borrow your shower?”

“Depends. Can I join you?”

“Multitasking. I like it.” She snagged his hand as they strolled toward the bedroom. “What would Max do if he thought his shaky operation was collapsing?”

“What do you think he’d do?”

“He’d run.”

“Yes, I think he would. We need to be careful about how we approach him and the people around him. I believe I made that point last night.”

“We’re watching him, but keeping a low profile. Which dirty, low-down operation is the most vulnerable?”

“You’re so adorable.” He pressed his lips to hers. “I think the hotel’s in trouble, and the condo investment is obviously his next target, but—” He stopped, as something she’d said sank in. “You’re watching him? How?”

“We trade off. Victoria and Calla have been bearing the load over the last few days while I’ve been…busy with you.” She let go of him and moved quickly toward the bathroom door. “I really should get in the shower.”

When he caught up to her, he wrapped his fingers around her wrist. “How are you watching him?”

“The usual way—by following him everywhere he goes.”

13

“I
T
’
S
ABOUT
TIME
YOU
GOT
here,” Victoria said as Shelby climbed into her friend’s Mercedes. “Max is coming out any minute.”

“Sorry. My prep work took longer than I thought. How do you know Max is coming out?”

“I gave one of the valets twenty bucks to text me when he was on his way.”

“With the budget of this operation rising like a geyser, we’re gonna have to squeeze that putz’s wallet until he bleeds to recoup our losses.”

“Here, here.”

“As if things weren’t complicated enough, Trevor’s father is coming to New York.”

Victoria stared at her in disbelief. “When?”

Shelby glanced at her watch. “Anytime now.”

“He just decided to fly over an ocean to chat?”

“Apparently.”

“The timing can’t be a coincidence.”

“No, I’m sure it isn’t. I expect he’s come to complain to Trevor about how he’s handling Max. Or maybe his viscount cousin has landed himself in a scandal they expect Trevor to clean up. Or maybe he’s decided to actually appreciate the non-criminal son he has.”

“Wow. Who curdled your cream this morning?”

Shelby grinned. “Actually I had sex and eggs for breakfast.”

“At the same time?”

“Consecutively.” She poked her friend’s leg. “You should try it, then you wouldn’t be getting those scowl lines around your mouth.”

Victoria flipped down the visor and stared into the mirror. “What—” She shifted her glare to Shelby. “That wasn’t nice.”

“Sorry, I’m a little punchy. I didn’t get much sleep.” She smiled broadly. “You know, more se—”

“Oh, look, there’s Max.”

Instinctively, Shelby slid down in her seat as she watched the hotel mogul-condo developer climb into a cab in front of The Crown Jewel.

Victoria slid out into traffic a couple of cars behind him, and Shelby made a note of the cab’s tag number, so they could be sure they were following the right one.

The cab headed south, so he could be going to his office, the condo site or anywhere between 42nd Street and Lady Liberty.

At a stoplight, Victoria flipped down the mirror again.

“Cut it out,” Shelby said. “You’re freakin’ perfect, as always.”

She raised the mirror as the light turned green. “My spa consultant should send you half the tip I’ll be giving her when I go in for a full treatment tomorrow.”

“Yeah, sure.” How somebody as stunning as Victoria could have doubts about her appearance, Shelby would never understand. “What should I wear tonight?”

“Something besides Trevor’s sheets.”

“That’s really funny.”

Victoria shrugged and turned left as Max did the same. “It’s a reasonable warning, Miss Nympho.”

“Jealous?”

“Insanely.”

“Seriously. Do I wear jeans? My chef’s jacket? Your black Chanel suit?”

“Yes, no, and dream on.” Victoria glanced at her. “Relax. He may be an important man, but he’s still just a man. Puts his pants on one leg at a time, et cetera.”

“I’m not worried about the title thing. But he’s Trevor’s father. If he hates me, Trevor’s going to dump me.”

“No, he won’t. Trevor’s his own man. Cook the father something. You’ll feel better.”

“I am.”

“Pasta?”

“I wish. The earl is apparently a fussy eater. Basic meat and potatoes kind of stuff.” Shelby wrinkled her nose. Culinarily repressed people weren’t her forte. “I considered making escargot or
cervelles au beurre
just to be bold, but in the end decided on roasted chicken and vegetables.”

“
Cervelles au beurre?
Isn’t that—”

“Cow brains in butter.”

“I don’t even want to know where you get those.”

Amused, Shelby angled her head. “I’ve seen you tuck into a prime filet a time or two. What’s the difference?”

“Brains are icky.”

To hear her posh, sophisticated friend say
icky
was truly funny. Which was probably why her mood didn’t take a nosedive as she realized Max was on his way to his downtown office.

Same old, same old. No clandestine meeting with a loan shark or shady accountant they could document and add to their file of bad deeds.

Victoria pulled to the curb, and they watched Max alight from the cab in front of the tacky Campbell Building they’d broken into less than two weeks ago.

They were approaching the one-month anniversary of Project Robin Hood, and they were no closer to getting revenge on Max than when they started. She experienced a whole new respect for the difficulties of Detective Antonio’s job.

How much longer could she expect her friends to give up their time, emotional support and money for the cause? And was her heart even in it anymore?

Given the space Trevor occupied in her emotions, she couldn’t cause him pain. And while this whole mess was certainly Max’s fault, the doubts about whether or not she could go through with her vindictive plot were growing.

“If you need to get back to your chicken, I’ll wait,” Victoria offered, leaning her seat back and pulling her cell phone from her purse.

Shelby laid her hand over her friend’s. “No. Let’s go.”

Victoria’s gaze probed hers. “He could leave here and meet with one of his potential investors. Didn’t you say contacting one of them was our best option? Don’t we need new evidence to take to the police?”

“Yes and yes. But right now we need to go get a drink somewhere.”

“It’s not five o’clock.”

“It will be by the time we get to Marque’s. Let’s set this aside for tonight. Tell me what’s going on with you.”

Victoria shifted the purring luxury car into gear.

* * *

S
HELBY
RAN
PAST
T
REVOR
as he opened his apartment door for her. “Sorry I’m late. I tried to do way too much, then I got caught up with Victoria’s concern for her promotion, which she completely deserves, but—”

“Hey.” He snagged her by the shoulders and pulled her against him. His blue eyes radiated desire. “I missed you today.”

Her heart fluttered.

He was freshly showered, dressed in jeans and a black sweater and smelled like manly heaven.

Victoria had been right to keep her outfit casual. She wore roughly the same thing, though she’d tossed on her chef’s jacket to keep from spilling anything on her clothes while she cooked.

He captured her mouth, angling his head to give her a thorough welcome that drove away all thoughts of family, food and frankly anything but the flow of need through her veins.

Unfortunately, when they separated, reality returned.

She cast a glance down the hall. “Is your father here?”

“No.” He wrapped his arm around her waist and led her into the living room. “He checked into his hotel a few hours ago, called me to say he was in the city, then informed me he was having tea, contacting a few people, and he’d be arriving at seven.”

“Did he say why he was here?”

“No, but we know my brother is on his agenda.”

“Yeah.” She flopped her head against his shoulder. “I’ve had a martini. I think I’m loopy.”

“Remind me to take advantage of you later.”

“That sounds—” She halted as they reached the end of the hall. “Oh, my.” Trees, bushes and flowers suffused the living and dining rooms. Not the jungle of the terrace, but an artful setting that fit Trevor exactly. “You’ve been working hard today.”

Embracing her from behind, he placed a lingering kiss on the pulse point beneath her ear. “They add a certain something, don’t they?”

Her heart, already committed to him beyond everything sensible, contracted. “It’s something, all right.”

“How about some coffee?” he asked, letting go as he moved into the kitchen.

She was going to need a lot more than coffee, but that would do for a start. “Sure. Did my supplier send over everything for dinner?”

“He did.” As she pulled the chicken out of the fridge, Trevor ran his hand over her hip. “According to Fred he seemed pretty possessive of you.”

She swung around to the stove. “Fred in security downstairs?” When he nodded, she added, “The relationship between a caterer and her supplier is sacred.”

“As long as all he gives you is carrots and potatoes…”

When she trailed her finger down the center of his chest, he tugged her to him. “You keep me pretty satisfied otherwise.”

“Do I?”

“Definitely.” She kissed his jaw. “But there are miles to go…”

“I know.”

Trevor, too, was frustrated with the obstacles that continued to bombard them. Along with trying to get past the secrets they’d kept from each other and the unexpected speed bump of his father’s visit, Max was standing in the damn road.

But no matter Max’s mistakes, Trevor couldn’t help but struggle with the idea of moving against him and siding with a woman he’d known only a few weeks.

He was crazy about Shelby. He craved her presence, her touch, her laugh. She was his lover and friend.

Yet how could he reconcile his actions? How could he turn his back on his family loyalty?

As the chicken cooked, he and Shelby shared coffee at the counter. He told her about his day, and the normalcy of his work helped his mind shift from the turmoil they were going through. By comparison, the complications of logistics, transferring goods from one county, state or country to another, seemed simple.

She shared the silliness of the luncheon she’d catered that afternoon, where the client had asked for a vegetarian menu, only to have several guests complaining about the lack of meat.

“Did you tell them their host had requested the menu?” he asked as the sun descended and the lights of the city flicked on.

“No way. The client is always right, especially this one, who lied through her teeth and said she hadn’t requested vegetarian but instead told everyone that I’d bragged about my great produce supplier. I do have one, by the way. But she left out the part where she told me several of her guests couldn’t possibly eat flesh.” She rolled her eyes. “Though nobody seemed to have a problem with leather bags or shoes.”

The thought of Shelby having to apologize for a mistake she hadn’t made was maddening. “So you took the blame?”

She shrugged. “She’s a good client, and I’ve gotten plenty of bookings from her friends, too. Rich people are an odd crowd sometimes, but I need them.” Her gaze flicked to his. “No offense.”

“None taken.”

“I also produced a container of chicken salad that I’d made for a just-in-case scenario, and three of the women liked it so much, they ordered several large servings each. In the end, I got future business and was able to add to the client’s bill by charging her for something she hadn’t ordered but nevertheless saved her party.”

“How practical.”

“A necessary trait in the food-service business. Especially when the household coffers are as modest as mine.”

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she shook her head. “Sorry.” She set down her coffee mug and crossed to the oven, presumably to check on dinner. “I seem determined to point out our differences tonight.”

“I understand practicality. I employ it myself every day.”

She opened the oven, releasing the mouthwatering scent of roasting chicken into the air. “Every business owner does, I guess…if they want to be successful.”

Her spirit was so strong. Her generosity and jaunty attitude a balm to the problem they found themselves mired in.

He hoped his father didn’t ruin the mood with what was guaranteed to be harsh judgment on how Trevor was managing Max. He’d stopped asking long ago why the younger had to watch out for the elder. Max was special, after all. The Heir. Not to mention Max wasn’t capable of managing to plan his daily meals, much less his entire life.

For a few minutes, they’d been talking about their day like a real couple. Could that become the norm? Could they have a future together?

No easy answers. No simple path.

Weren’t the best things in life worth a fight?

“Even my father is practical,” he said, rinsing their mugs and placing them in the dishwasher. “Every year around Christmas he’d threaten to turn off the heat if my brother and I didn’t stop opening the door every five minutes.”

“I imagine Westmore Manor isn’t known for its insulation.”

“It was built in 1674. Additions and modernizations can only do so much.”

“I bet.” She cocked her head. “Now that I know you so…intimately, I can’t imagine you toiling around a bleak old manor house.”

“It’s pretty luxurious actually.” He gave her a teasing smile. “And not even the servants toiled. And Father put a padlock on the door to the dungeon after he heard me threatening to capture the girl next door.”