Tempting Donovan Ford (19 page)

He didn’t know how to respond. He should say no. He and Julia had started sleeping together only a week and a half ago. They hadn’t talked about a future. They hadn’t even been out in public as a couple. And yet, he couldn’t bring himself to claim that what was happening between him and Julia was casual. Because it wasn’t.

“Have you told her that we’re keeping the restaurant?”

“Not yet.” Mal was the only one who knew that he’d virtually promised to sell the restaurant to Julia back when he’d thought he was going to have to be responsible for it.

Mal’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” He knew he needed to. But he still hadn’t called the lawyer to draw up the new contract. And there had been so much going on—the food festival, the TV spot today and the restaurant’s relaunch in a week. He didn’t think burdening Julia with that information was a good idea. They needed her. He needed her. And he’d have to walk the tightrope of her wants and needs carefully.

Mal frowned. “Oh.” The one word was ripe with meaning.

Donovan swallowed his irritation. He wasn’t annoyed with his sister, but with himself for not dealing with the situation yet. “I know, Mal. I’ll take care of it. I promise.”

“It’s not that. Or it
is
that, but not in the way you think.” She plucked the remote out of his hands and lowered the volume on the TV. “You care for her.”

Donovan nodded. He did. More quickly than he’d expected. Already he missed her on nights when she didn’t stay with him.

“Does she feel the same?”

“I think so.” He bloody well hoped so. Because the idea of Julia slipping out of his life wasn’t one he wanted to contemplate.

“Then you have to tell her.”

“I know.”

“I’m serious, Donovan. These kinds of things... Personal relationships and—” Her voice broke, but she got it back a moment later. “Personal relationships and business. They don’t always mix. You have to draw a clear line between them.”

Though her expression was primarily neutral, simply a marketing and media-relations director giving the acting CEO some advice, Mal’s eyes told a different story. One that said mixing business and pleasure was a dangerous game that could have no winner.

“This isn’t the same situation.” Donovan didn’t specifically refer to his sister and Travis and whatever had happened between them. But he didn’t have to. They both knew what he was talking about. “I’m keeping the business separate, and when the time comes to tell her, I plan to offer fair compensation. It’s a business decision. I’m sure she’ll understand.”

But Mal didn’t look relieved. If anything, her eyes narrowed. “It’s never that easy, Donovan. You think it will be, but it isn’t.”

He sensed she wasn’t talking about his relationship but her own. “Mal...” He let her name trail off. He’d made it clear that he was there if she wanted to talk; she wouldn’t appreciate hearing it again.

“I’m just telling you to give it some careful consideration.” She pressed her lips together, indicating that she was done talking about it. “But I trust that you’ll make the right decision. For all of us.”

Donovan nodded. He would. He had no doubt of that. But Mal was right—he couldn’t keep ignoring the situation with Julia. He’d need to talk to her about it, pitch his idea and future plans for the restaurant. Surely she’d be able to see that staying at La Petite Bouchée was good for her career, too. No, it wasn’t ownership, but it was the next best thing. Because Donovan already knew that Gus had little intention of getting involved with the kitchen. He was just happy to eat the food.

But not right now. Not when the restaurant’s grand reopening was days away and they all had a lot on their plate. Later, when things were more settled, when his father had selected his return date and Donovan had the contract in hand for her to sign. He’d bring it up then.

* * *

L
A
P
ETITE
B
OUCHÉE
glittered on opening night. The chandeliers overhead, the shiny new floors and gleaming bar, the glassware, the metallic threads in the ivory fabric on the chairs. And the people.

Everywhere Donovan turned, there were flashes of icy diamonds, cool sapphires and warm rubies. The social scene coming to see and be seen.

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel incredibly proud. All his hard work, all Julia’s hard work—really, everyone’s hard work—had paid off.

Although the room looked very little the way he’d initially imagined, before Julia had given her suggestions, he could see now that it was perfect. He’d known his design team would do a fantastic job—they always did—but this was a step above.

There were no high-gloss bars or Lucite chairs. No shiny metal stools or color-free walls. But the round-back chairs that reminded him of Paris were out in full force and the prints on the pale blue walls were all black-and-white. The bar was dark, burnished wood and the mirror he wanted covered the wall behind it, highlighting the gleaming glass and rows of bottles. The chandeliers dripped crystals and spilled warm, golden light.

It might not be the modern style he’d imagined, but it was warm and rich. A mix of old and new that surpassed both. He was proud of what he’d accomplished, what his team had accomplished in only two months.

His family hadn’t yet arrived. Mal was dealing with some things at the office and had texted to say she’d be about ten minutes late, and Owen was coming with his parents, which meant they’d be about fifteen minutes late since Owen rarely showed up to anything on time.

Donovan refused to let that annoy him tonight. If Owen wanted more responsibility as he kept claiming, he could start by showing up on schedule. Donovan glanced down at his heavy watch. Which meant he had about six minutes. But his brother’s lack of punctuality was really of no concern other than Donovan knew it would stress out their father.

They’d all been working hard to keep Gus’s stress level as low as possible while he recovered from his heart attack. Occasionally, this meant being sneaky. But it was worth it if it meant that Gus’s health continued to improve.

Tonight would be the first time his father had laid eyes on the restaurant since the renovations. There had been times it had been tough to keep Gus away, but they’d managed with a combination of fibs and bribery. And now he’d see the finished product, see what his dream had become under Donovan’s guidance.

Donovan hoped he liked it.

As Donovan worked his way around the room, chatting to those he knew personally, nodding to those he didn’t, he couldn’t help thinking of Julia. She’d been in the kitchen since the early hours. Checking and double-checking everything. Tonight was a big deal for her, too. Her performance for a new and opinionated crowd.

Donovan had no doubt that she would wow them completely. He wanted to go back to the kitchen and see her, even just to wish her good luck, but like so many other times tonight, he stopped himself before he even started.

She had a lot to do, and as much as he’d love to touch her, to look over all they’d created together, he knew that would be selfish. His only role tonight was to chat to the patrons, make sure everyone felt welcome and be there as backup for the extremely competent staff should something go wrong. Julia’s role was harder and more detailed.

Not only did she need to ensure that every single plate that left the kitchen was good enough to be served to the harshest critic, she’d be expected to make multiple appearances in the dining room to greet each guest personally. There were reporters here, contacts Mal had lined up to cover the event. But when he’d reminded Julia of that in bed this morning and wondered if she might take some promotional photos, she’d explained those would have to be taken before service, because once the orders started coming in, the food had to be her number one priority.

Then she’d kissed him and he’d forgotten about the coffee he’d just made, and by the time he’d remembered, the autotimer had shut off and he’d had to make a second pot. Really, not such a trial when he considered how the time had been spent.

“Donovan.” He spun when he heard his name, a welcoming smile already in place. The smile warmed when he saw his mother. She kissed him on the cheek and hugged him. “You look wonderful. The place looks wonderful.”

He saw his father coming up behind her, just a little slower than before, but Donovan doubted anyone but those who knew him well would notice. He looked almost back to his old rugged, active self. The doctors had assured them that everything looked good and Gus should continue to lead a long and healthy life, but it was hard not to worry. Even Owen, the least likely Ford to twist himself into a knot of what-ifs, stuck close to Gus as they traversed the restaurant.

But in typical Owen-style, he charmed the room as he went, nodding and smiling to the various people he passed. As Donovan watched, his little brother paused at a table hosting a trio of particularly attractive women. No doubt he was checking out their impressive cleavage. Same old Owen.

But rather than hang around, Own moved on quickly and didn’t appear to get or give a phone number before doing so. Donovan was surprised. Maybe Owen had changed a little. Donovan just wasn’t sure how much and if it was enough to trust him with more than managing Elephants.

He brushed the thought away. Tonight wasn’t about Elephants or any location except La Petite Bouchée, and Donovan wasn’t concerned with what changes his brother may or may not have made.

“Dad.” Donovan reached out to give him a handshake and backslap, the standard male-Ford greeting. Gus’s color was good and there was no pinch of pain around his mouth.

“Donovan.” His father’s voice boomed through the room. “Look at this place. Great. Just great. You’ve done a fine job.” All of this was said at full volume, just in case anyone in the vicinity wasn’t listening. “Show us the place.”

Donovan led them to the bar, where he’d preordered drinks. He handed them around with a pleased flourish. White wine for his mother, beer for Owen and a single finger of scotch for his father. Owen declined the beer and requested a glass of water, like the one Donovan carried. Okay, maybe Owen had changed more than a little, but considering how he’d been before, he still had a long way to go.

“Where’s Mallory?” his mother wanted to know as she sipped.

“Just running a little late. She’ll be here soon.”

His father was studying the bar itself, a smile on his craggy face. “Good craftsmanship.” He slapped a hand on the black walnut, sealed and polished to a high gloss. “They don’t make things like this any longer.” He eyed his son. “I thought you’d make it all cold and sharp. Glass or something. This is much better.”

Donovan kept his former plans to himself. “Actually, the bar was Julia’s idea. She wanted to mix new and old.” And she’d resoundingly shot down the glossy white bar he’d originally picked out.

Gus looked around as though expecting her to appear out of thin air. “Where is she? I want to say hello in person. Let’s go to the kitchen.” He started to push himself off of the bar stool, no longer a rickety cushion-free experience, but one with full back and seats that shaped around a person’s body, encouraging them to stay, have another drink and enjoy the evening.

“Later, Dad.” Donovan laid a firm hand on his father’s shoulder. “She’s busy.” He gestured around the full room. A full room of people waiting to eat.

Owen frowned. “It’ll only take a second. I don’t think Julia will mind.”

“Julia has promised to come out and say hello when she has a moment.” Donovan shot his brother a pointed look. He didn’t appreciate Owen jumping in and acting as if he had authority here. Owen wasn’t the one who’d overseen renovations, menu planning or media events.

After his parents had admired everything about the renovated restaurant, they sat at their reserved table. Mal joined them a few minutes later, still not looking herself. But she smiled on cue and made polite conversation.

“Amazing. Just amazing.” Gus looked around again. “Nicer than I remember.” He reached out to clasp his wife’s hand. “You’ve done a good job, son.”

Donovan felt a swell of pride at his father’s accolades. Gus had always been quick to recognize his children’s accomplishments, but that didn’t diminish hearing them now. He had done an amazing job, and was pleased his father said so.

“I have to say, it was kind of nice not to see it happen gradually.” They’d encouraged Gus to take it easy, instead gear up for his return to the office slowly, which did not include dragging himself to the work site to check on the renovations. He’d probably have tried to pick up a hammer and swing it along with the construction crew. These weren’t facetious concerns. Gus had done it before. “It has a lot of impact this way.”

Donovan smiled. “I’m glad you like it.” Particularly since all of it would soon be under Gus’s command.

There was no sign of Julia until dessert, when she brought out the dishes herself. Donovan’s heart jumped when he saw her. Her cheeks were flushed, probably from standing in the kitchen all night, but she was smiling and looked to be buzzing on energy. She should be buzzing—the night had been an unmitigated success.

He’d personally seen two different food critics leave with smiles on their faces and had no doubt their reviews would be raves. Julia was a hit. No,
they
were a hit. And they deserved it.

“Chef.” He didn’t hide his grin. “Congratulations.”

It felt as if Owen had one-upped him, jumping out of his seat to plant a kiss on her cheek. “Amazing, Jules. Just amazing.” But Donovan reminded himself that he was the one she went to bed with at night. And that it was good that she got along with his family. Even those members he himself didn’t always get along with.

The family all cooed over her, telling her how much they’d enjoyed the food, asking her to describe the dessert, complimenting the service and being polite and engaged food connoisseurs in general. Donovan merely watched Julia. The way she bloomed under their attention, the way she answered in her friendly and cheerful manner.

He wanted to touch her, to kiss her and let everyone know she was with him. But they’d agreed to keep things casual, and even though he knew that wasn’t true, he didn’t think forcing her to admit it in front of an entire restaurant of people was the way to go.