Take Me Home Tonight (2 page)

“That's enough. I don't want to talk about this anymore. Come, let's get a drink.”

“I don't understand why you're acting this way.”

Those dark eyes narrowed on her. “You want me to take you seriously, then take yourself seriously.”

Her mind shorted out, and she felt momentarily disoriented. “Of course I take myself seriously. I've spent the last eleven months killing myself to get a job. Why would you say that?”

“Because you're talking to me about reality TV.”

“It's a
cooking
show.”

“Amelia, for goodness' sake, do you really want to be Verna Bloom's
apprentice
—is that how you see yourself?”

“I see myself as an educated, competent woman who's trying to get the kind of experience that will make her father hire her.”

“Why the hell would I hire Verna Bloom's
apprentice
?”

“Because she got chosen out of thousands of applicants to audition. And then she beat out seven hundred and fifty people to land a spot on the show. And then she slammed five other contestants to
win
. You hire winners, right, Dad?”

“I don't hire reality TV imbeciles.”

The blow rendered her speechless. She turned away from him so she could calm down enough to think. She wanted to point out the difference between a cooking show and the Kardashians, but that didn't seem the point. Not to her. “I don't know what you want from me. I've done everything you asked. You said Ivy League, and I did it. But you didn't hire me. You said I had to get an MBA first. So I got it. But it still wasn't enough. No, you had to throw out the real-world-experience hoop. I tried to get a job, Dad. You know that. Do you not want me to work for you? Is that the bottom line here? Because that's making a whole lot more sense than anything else right now.”

“Amelia Oriana Romano, for God's sake. You think I'm stupid? I'm a stupid man? Is that what you think?”

“No, Dad.” She couldn't believe he was getting worked up. She'd just landed an amazing opportunity and instead of being happy he was demeaning her.

“You are not only going to work with me, you're going to take over the company. You think I've built this business just to put it in someone else's hands? Your whole life I've taught you everything I know so that one day you'll step into my shoes.”

Yes
. That was what she wanted with all her heart.

“But those shoes are too big for you today.”

“Too big? I'm sorry, are you saying my magna cum laude degree from Cornell in hotel administration isn't good enough to work at Dino Romano and Associates? My Columbia MBA isn't quite up to snuff? How about my three summer internships with the Hazard Group—your biggest competitor, who, by the way, wouldn't hire me because they thought I would feed deal information to you?”

“Your education is outstanding. But if you came to work in my office, you would be seen as nothing more than my daughter.”

“What are you talking about? I'm going to be your daughter no matter when you hire me. And I'll earn their respect. You know I will. I'll do anything. God, Dad, I'll make coffee every day if that's what it takes to get started.”

“Did you ever wonder why I have so few people working for me?”

“Uh, because you're frugal? Because you came to America with nothing but the clothes on your back? Because nonno was a tailor and nonna a seamstress, and you grew up in the two rooms in back of the shop? Because you put yourself through college washing dishes? And built this business with your own two hands?”

He chuckled. “Well, yes, all of that. But also because I hire only the best. And the nature of the best means there are very few of them. And, Mimi, my team? They're the major players in the restaurant industry. And they won't have respect for the owner's daughter hired right out of college. Trust me on this. You need to earn your way in this business before you come to them as an equal.”

“So does that mean you're not hiring me until I'm forty with fifteen years of experience under my belt?” Because if that were the case, he could forget it.

“Of course not. It means you need to work for a hospitality development company so you can learn all aspects of the business. My firm is small,
tesoro.
Everyone knows a little bit about everything.”

“Well, I've run out of job options in New York City. So, I'll earn their respect after my gig on the
Verna Bloom Show
.”

“After you've made a fool of yourself on national television, they'll view you as the pampered socialite daughter of Dino Romano.”

A prickly heat raced through her body. “Is that what you think of me?”

“Don't be ridiculous. But what do you think the world will think of you?”

“I don't care what the world thinks. I care what you think. You want me to have exposure to every aspect of this business? Well, that's what the winner of this competition gets. As Verna Bloom's sous chef for a season, I'm going to learn about cooking and the management of a kitchen. I'm going to make invaluable connections.” She leaned in. “And I think you know better than anybody that the restaurant business in New York is all about connections.”

“You should care very much how the world will see you because the show will depict you as a fool. They chose you for ratings.” Her dad practically shouted at her. “Because you won't know what you're doing, and you'll cut yourself with a knife, and your sugar won't turn to syrup, and you won't present clean plates, and you'll be shouting
Fuck a duck
every time you get flustered.”

Her body sank into a pit of hot, steaming mortification. She could see it. Everything he said, she could see happening.

And so she had to stop listening to him. No matter what, she was doing this show—there were no other options—and she
liked
this one.

His negative thoughts had the power to sink her, so she couldn't be around him right then. Taking out her phone, she turned and headed down the street. She'd call a cab and go home. Or maybe she should go back to the club. Get a ride with the band. No, they'd have to schmooze, do some press. She wanted to go home now.

At the intersection, she searched her contacts for the cab company. But she couldn't see through the blur of tears. More than anyone else's on the planet, she'd wanted his support.

“Amelia, sweetheart.” She hadn't even noticed her father had followed her. “I love you, and I want the best for you. And I'm telling you right now this show is a mistake. I'm not trying to upset you. I'm trying to save you.”

“Okay, but you
are
upsetting me. I have to do the show, Dad. I have nothing else, and if I don't do it, what then? What other options do I have?”

“We'll come up with something. There are always options.” He gave her that determined look of his. The one he got when he tried to bend her to his will. “The kind that won't make you look like a fool.”

Hurt pulsed with every beat of her heart. “I've been cooking for the band for four months. I grew up in kitchens. I'm not going to choke.”

She was totally going to choke. She didn't know the first thing about culinary arts. But really, screw him.

“You've been making sub sandwiches and spaghetti and
meatballs.” He grew serious. “You'll be the laughingstock of the show.”

She took a step closer to him. “You're my father. And even if you're worried about me, you should still support me. Do you realize you haven't even said the one word I needed to hear?”

“What word, my angel?”

“How about
congratulations
?”

Just as her finger hovered over the cab company's number, a motorcycle roared down the street. With his long, dark hair fluttering out the half-shell helmet, the unmistakable figure of Calix Bourbon came cruising down the asphalt in a black and chrome Harley.

“I can't say it.” Her dad shoved his hands into his pockets. “I can't tell you what you want to hear when I know the truth. And you know why? Because I love you. With all my heart, I love you, and I want the best for you.”

“I'm doing this show, and I'm going to win.”

“You are so much better than reality TV.”

“So much better than the
Verna Bloom Show
, but not good enough to work with you? Cool, but where does that leave me?” She stepped into the intersection, forcing the bike to stop.

“Amelia.” The concern in her dad's tone almost made her turn back to him.

Calix's big boot hit the ground. He watched her with those intense, dark eyes.

“Can you give me a ride?”

His heated gaze took a slow, predatory slide from her eyes to her mouth to her breasts, all the way down to her hips.

“Melie.” The two syllables fired like pellets out of her dad's mouth. “What the hell are you doing?”

But she ignored him and approached the bike. She'd never ridden on a motorcycle. How could she straddle it in her tight skirt?

Without a word, Calix pulled a combat foldout knife from the pocket of his jeans and flipped it open. The loud flick excited the hell out of her. Leaning in, he looked up, a question in his eyes. Heart pounding, she nodded.

With the tip of the blade he pulled the skirt away from her legs.

“Hey.” Her dad charged into the street. “Do
not
touch her.”

But Calix didn't even look at him. He kept his inquiring gaze on Mimi.

She gave him a nod. In one swift flick of his wrist, Calix slit her skirt nearly up to her lace boy shorts.

“Are you out of your mind?” her dad shouted.

Instead of answering—and really, maybe she was a little out of her mind—she hitched up the material and threw a leg over the seat. With her hot pink panties exposed for all the world to see, she leaned forward, closing the distance between her and Calix's big body.

“Amelia, I don't know what the hell you're doing, but acting like a rebellious teenager is not going to encourage me to hire you.”

“So far nothing I've done has
encouraged
you.”

Calix pulled off his helmet and handed it to her. Once she had it on, she wrapped her arms around his incredibly hard, warm waist.

“I told you I'll come up with an idea for you, but if you get on that bike, I won't help you with anything.”

“Then I guess it's up to me to take it from here.”

Calix's big hand settled on her thigh, giving it a squeeze.

She understood the question. “Go.”

With a roar, the engine blasted between her thighs.

She never looked back.

Heavy cloud cover and the speed of the bike made the world around her a blur of shapes and scents. Mimi knew the area well enough to make out scrubby oaks and pines and clusters of small buildings as they passed from one hamlet to the next. Her eyes stung, and she tucked in closely to Calix's back. He smelled good—really good—and the worn leather of his jacket felt soft against her cheek.

He turned off Sunrise Highway, sped down country roads, and all the while Mimi just held on, leaning with him as his bike tore through the black night. And then he eased into a long, winding driveway that led to a sprawling one-story house. He stopped and cut the engine. Her legs felt shaky, and the roar of the machine still vibrated through her body.

“Okay?”

His gruff voice prompted her to actually get off the bike. “Oh, sorry.” One foot hit the ground, and she had to hoist the other leg over the seat without kicking him. She stumbled from the awkward angle, but he grabbed her arm, steadying her until she found her balance. “Thanks.”

“Give me fifteen, and then I'll get you home.” He took the helmet, set it on the seat, and then strode toward the house.

The air smelled amazing. Not sweet like Violet's wildflower farm, but a mix of damp earth, pine, and salty ocean breezes. And those sounds? Tinkling, mixed with deeper notes—an actual clanging. A symphony of wind chimes.

“You coming in?”

His deep voice—with a hint of a growl in it—had her hurrying to join him at the front door. “Yes, of course. Sorry.”

Once inside, he flicked on the hall light. His boots thudded across the lightly stained hardwood floors. Framed photographs lined the broad hallway, but she didn't have a chance to look at any of them as she followed him deeper into the house. Too bad, because she really wanted a glimpse into this elusive man's life.

Turning on another light, he entered the kitchen. “You want anything?”

Holy shit, Calix Bourbon had a gorgeous cherry red Aga oven. Where the wood beams on the low ceiling and the tiled island gave the room a cozy feel, the bright blue, red, and grass green pottery displayed in a pie chest made it cheerful.

“Magic,” she murmured.

“Excuse me?”

“Your kitchen. It's magical. Do you cook?”

Impatience in such a big man came off a little scary. “Yeah, I cook. You good in here?”

“Of course. Yes. Thanks.”

He towered over her, all big, imposing man. His shoulder-length hair was a tousled mess, his black T-shirt looked wrinkled and stretched out, and his jeans probably hadn't hit the spin cycle in weeks. He gave her a chin nod and said, “Fifteen.” His deep, slightly raspy voice sparked in her feminine core.

Striding out of the kitchen and across the living room, he punched the handle on the French door, slipping out into the night.

Mimi pulled a chair out from a large barnwood table and collapsed into it. God, she hadn't even had a moment to celebrate tonight's stunning victory. It was huge, right? It
totally was. She pulled out her phone and typed a group message to Violet and her mom.

I got it!

A flurry of texts came, making it hard to keep up. But she couldn't stop smiling at their enthusiastic response. She wanted to tell them what her dad had said, but that would let his voice in. And with one week to pull this together, she couldn't afford negativity.

Like hell she'd be the joke of the show.

Her phone rang, and she tensed when she saw her dad's name. She knew him, though. He might have strong ideas about how to do things, but he loved her, and he always came around. He'd apologize, and then he'd help her. Maybe even set her up with lessons from a chef at one of his restaurants. “Hey, Dad.”

“What the hell's the matter with you, taking off like that? Who was that man? Where are you?”

“I'm with Calix Bourbon. He's with Blue Fire, and I'm at his house.”

“You can't behave like that, Amelia. Can you imagine someone on my team running off like that?”

She got up, headed to the sink, and looked at her reflection in the window. The hair she'd painstakingly blown out and twisted into a tight bun was now an unruly mess. She smoothed the loose pieces behind her ear. “Dad, unless you're going to be happy for me, I'm going to hang up. I love you, but when we don't see eye to eye, you get too pushy. You can't bully me out of this competition.”

“Now is not the time to be stubborn. You've been out of school for a year. You must get a job if you're to be taken seriously.”

Okay, totally not budging. Which only kicked up her anxiety. Time to come up with a game plan. She'd find a pen and paper and start brainstorming ideas. She'd definitely watch some cooking shows, but she wondered if she knew any chefs she felt comfortable enough with to ask for help.

“I think you know I've exhausted the job opportunities in
Manhattan.” In a little enclave by the laundry room, she found a built-in desk. She picked up a pen but didn't see a notepad or Post-its or anything.

“I've got an idea.” He sounded pleased with himself. “Over dinner tonight, I was talking to my colleagues about the Camarillo Group. They're doing some exciting work. Monday morning, I'll give Monte Camarillo a call.”

Mimi's hand tightened on the pen. “The Camarillo Group . . . aren't they in Miami?”

“That's right.”

“You want me to move?” The words came out as weightless as dandelion fluff.

“I want you to gain the kind of experience that will enable you to fit with my team.”

She turned, resting her bottom on the edge of the desk. “In Miami?”

“If that's what it takes.”

No way. He didn't mean this. He was just bullying her into seeing things his way. She pushed off the desk, tossing the pen down. “Come on, you'd miss me if I moved away. Who would you make
crespelle
for?”

“A few years, Amelia. That's all. It's a two-and-a-half-hour plane ride.”

He wasn't provoking her. He meant it.

“Work with Monte's head of development, and I'll hire you.” He sounded excited about this brilliant idea to ship her off to another state.

Did he even realize he'd just tossed yet another hoop for her to jump through? “No.”

“What do you mean
no
?”

“If I build my relationships in Miami, then I'm building my career there. I want to build it in New York. Where I live.”
Where you work.
Besides, what if she went to Miami and he
still
didn't hire her? Forget it.

“Melie . . .”

“Nope. I'm sticking with my plan. And if you can't support me, then I really can't talk to you. Good night, Dad.”

“Amelia.” She heard the warning in his tone, but she ended the call anyway.

Tossing her phone, she watched it skid across the white tile counter. Panic crawled across her skin. She hated that her dad had given voice to her fears.

But she wouldn't listen. Because she couldn't win with negativity in her head.

And by all that was holy, she was going to kick some TV ass.

All right, enough. Time to get back to the farm and get to work. Mimi glanced out the window. What was taking Calix so long? She should probably call a cab so he didn't have to bother with the long ride back to the farm.

She'd go find him, let him know he didn't have to worry about her. Heading out the same way he'd gone, she found herself in the living room.

Low ceilings and a color palette of cream and pale blues gave the impression of a cozy beach cottage. But she'd seen it from the outside, and this place went on and on.

Eager to learn something about Calix, she stepped closer to the framed family photographs that took up most of the wall space. Looked like four kids, with Calix the oldest. The youngest might have Down syndrome. In every single picture that boy was in the center. An arm hugging him tightly to a broad chest, a hand tousling his dark hair, a kiss pressed to his cheek. So much love in this family.

So . . . Calix Bourbon, badass tatted biker, lived at
home
?

And, boy, what a home. Where the apartment she'd grown up in had modern art pieces placed strategically by a decorator, this one had craft projects the kids had made over many years.

Her heart gave a little pull because she'd have given anything to grow up in a home like this one. As an only child whose parents were rarely around, she didn't have candid pictures. She had professional portraits and yearbook photos. She'd had no siblings to play with, and laughter had been a rare commodity.

Something was off, though. All the joy in these photos didn't make sense against the stillness, the stuffiness of this otherwise beautiful home. It almost felt like time had stopped.
She wanted to throw open the windows, let some fresh air in. Make some noise.

A door creaked, a hushed voice, a wet sob. Mimi stilled. She should make her presence known. A young woman peered into the living room, strappy sandals dangling off a finger, makeup smeared under her eyes. She tucked her phone into a black beaded clutch.

“Who're you?” The girl's eyes widened as she took Mimi in.

Right. Total stranger standing in her living room.
Awkward
. Mimi strode over, extending her hand. “Hi. Mimi Romano.”

“Hi, I'm Leonie.” She hunched a shoulder adorably. “Lee.”

“I'm friends with Calix.”

“You are?” Her incredulous tone made Mimi a little self-conscious.

Yeah, okay. With her conservative pencil skirt and silk blouse, she wasn't exactly Calix's type
. I get it.
She laughed. “Not that kind of friend, of course.”

She gestured to Mimi's skirt. “Are you okay?”

She'd forgotten about the slit Calix had made, and her hands lowered to cover the gap. “Oh, God. Yes, fine. Your brother had to cut my skirt so I could get on his bike.”

“Is he here?” She crept closer, peering around.

“No, he had to do something. He should be back any minute.”

“Okay, well.” She started to go, but then came back around. “Can I get you something? Water?” And then she smiled, taking in Mimi's skirt. “Leggings?”

“I'm okay, thanks. I'll be leaving soon.” Hard to look at a woman with mascara running down her cheek and not want to help. “You all right?”

“Yeah . . . just . . .” She shook her head, like she wasn't too happy with herself. “Bad taste in men.”

“You, too, huh?” She hadn't had a ton of relationships. Well, of course, she always chose the competitive, driven guys who put work before girlfriends. Daddy complex much? “I guess we have to wade through the frogs to get to our princes.”

She sighed. “But what if we're only attracted to frogs?”

Mimi laughed. “Well, that would suck.” Slater's wife, Emmie, had thought she wanted a stable guy, and she'd wound up with a groupie-bait lead singer. And Violet? She looked more like a posh art gallery owner than the future wife of the inked, long-haired bass player in a rock band. Her friend would never have considered dating a guy like Derek if she hadn't worked for the band on their last tour. “I don't know. Maybe we have to change it up. Give a different kind of guy a chance. The kind of guy we didn't think we were attracted to.”

Lee didn't look convinced.

“Yeah, okay, maybe not. All I know is we're too young and fabulous to give up. I don't know about you, but I'm holding out for my prince. Let's agree that we won't settle until we find him. Because we totally deserve the best, right?”

“Well, I deserve better than what I've gotten, I'll say that.” She drew in a breath, shook her head at Mimi's skirt. “Come on, let's find you something to wear.”

*   *   *

The
orange glow of the cigar flared in the dark garden.

Calix Bourbon wanted to check on his mom, figuring she'd worked right through dinner, but seeing his dad all alone like that gutted him.

He didn't want to keep Mimi waiting, but he had to spend a little time with his dad.

“Hey.” He dragged an Adirondack chair around to face him. The overcast sky did little to illuminate his old man's features, but Calix couldn't miss the tension around his eyes. “How's it going?”

“Just fine.” But his dad had never been good at disguising his emotions. Something troubled him. “How'd it go today?” He flicked ash onto the slate patio.

Calix leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Like every other day. Total cluster fuck.” None of his friends were musicians, so he appreciated his dad's insights about what went on in the studio.

“Why don't you guys say somethin' already?” His dad's
gravelly voice rumbled from deep within his chest. “Doesn't sound like he knows what he's doing.”

“Irwin hired him, so no one questions him. He's Dak Johnson, a hit maker. And with Irwin off in Australia, no one's checking up on his progress.” He ran his fingers through the scruff on his chin. “The guys think they lucked out scoring Irwin, the biggest A&R guy in the business. But what they don't get is that it's
their
band—their name on the album.”

“You tell 'em that?”

“Not my place. But I don't know why they give two shits what success Dak's had with other bands—he's not getting
this
one.”

“You been with 'em, what, couple months now? Seems like it could be your place.”

Eight months, actually. He'd started with Blue Fire last August, when their keyboard player had entered rehab. After finishing out the summer tour, Calix had jammed with them. He'd even cowritten some of the songs they were recording now. Eight months was a long time with one band.

A cool, moist breeze whipped through the garden, giving him chill bumps. “I won't be around much longer.”

His dad blew out smoke. “Irwin heard any tracks yet?”