Too Darn Hot (12 page)

His expression changed the instant she mentioned Mercy. Everyone in the industry knew about the renowned reviewer’s humiliating fall from the heights of power and respect.

He said, “That was quite a scandal.”

“A disgraceful end to a long and productive career.”

“Did she really do it, Lina? Take all those payoffs for so long? I know she tried to deny it.”

Lina hesitated. “She never confided in me.”

She knew the unspoken truth came through loud and clear.
Yes, she did it.

She said, “I saw her ruined. Broken. Mercy was more than a business associate, Eric, more than a friend even. She was almost like a mother to me. She taught me the business, introduced me to all the right people, nurtured my talent.”

Lina would never forget the anger she’d felt toward Mercy when the scandal broke, akin to the anger one feels toward a loved one who dies suddenly. She’d felt betrayed, disoriented. She’d never suspected. And how pointless it all was—Lord knew Mercy hadn’t needed the money.

With time, her anger wore off and she saw her old friend as a sad relic, a victim of the temptations lurking around every corner in this business. She’d made a vow to herself then never to give anyone the chance to do that to her.

“Your turn,” she said.

Eric looked genuinely perplexed.

“Why did you do it?” she asked. “Why did you go along with my ‘demand’ for a payoff?”

“It seemed clear that was the only way I was going to get a
Bon Vivant
review.”

“But plenty of people would’ve said the heck with that, I’m not going to get involved in something so unsavory as bribing a restaurant reviewer.”

He turned to stare out over the water. The breeze ruffled his hair. “I don’t think you realize what The Cookhouse means to me, Lina. I have everything invested in it—and I’m not just talking about money.”

After an awkward moment she said quietly, “I know you planned it with Ruth.”

He sighed. “Ruth’s gone. It’s the future I have to think about now. My boys. They’ll be going to college in five years. How am I supposed to—” He cut himself off. His throat worked.

It was clear to her that he’d put everything he had into his business. If it collapsed, he’d be destroyed.

She said, “Well, my piece in
Bon Vivant
should certainly bring The Cookhouse to the public’s attention.”

He blinked. “Then you
are
going to review it?”

“Eric, I finished that article before we talked at the beach. It’s in the can. The photographer will schedule a date with you soon to take the accompanying pictures.”

His smile was one of relief mingled with elation. “When you told me who you were, I figured the review was a sure thing, but then when it looked like you were trying to shake me down—”

“You figured it was only a sure thing if you could manage to stuff me full of duck-liver pâté and beluga caviar.”

“What issue will it be in?”

“October. Which will be out in September. Think you can hang in there for three more months?”

“With a Caroline Holland review to look forward to? No problem.”

“Remember the Japanese woman who was with me and Joy that last time?”

“You mean the one who could flawlessly read, understand, and pronounce the most esoteric French and Italian menu items, but seemed to have trouble with the term `No Smoking’?”

“That’s the one.”

“Don’t tell me. Etsuko Flanagan?”

“Yep.” She wasn’t surprised he knew the name of
Bon Vivant
’s food editor. “She wants the recipe for your chocolate peanut butter pie.”

Joy materialized before them, with Daniel and Adam in tow. “Look who I ran into.”

The boys eyed Lina’s attire and exchanged a look. Uh-oh. Maybe she should’ve listened to Joy and changed into jeans and sneakers.

Eric said, “Sorry, Joy, you’ll have to set your sights elsewhere. These two haven’t started dating yet.” The boys rolled their eyes.

Joy got in Eric’s face. “That was a dirty trick, listening in on my plans.”

Lina said, “Chef Reid doesn’t claim to fight clean. Hi, guys.”

The boys offered stilted greetings, calling her “Ms. Holland.” Apparently their dad had filled them in on her true identity. What else had he told them?

She said, “I wish you’d call me Lina.”

They looked at their father, who seemed to send them some sort of unspoken assurance that things were copacetic.

Lina turned to Joy. “Any luck with men old enough to shave?”

Her roommate grinned wickedly. Lina knew that grin. Joy leaned in closer and said, “There’s this guy on the other side. Thirty-three-year-old divorced Protestant nonsmoker. Investment banker. Owns own home. Coaches Little League and builds canoes for fun. Five eleven, a hundred eighty-two pounds.”

“Let me guess,” Eric said. “He likes long, romantic walks on the beach and snuggling in front of the fire.”

Joy stuck out her tongue at him.

Lina said, “You found out all that about him in the time you were gone?”

“Did you get his name?” Eric asked.

“I got his name and his sign. Ken Kimble. Sagittarius.”

“Go for it,” Lina said.

Joy mouthed,
He’s gorgeous!
and hurried away.

Adam said, “Dan and I are set up down there.” He pointed to a spot well away from the older generation, near the bow.

“Have a blast,” Eric said.

They took off, vigorously belittling each other’s fishing skills—or pitiful lack thereof. She suspected both boys were already deciding how to spend the biggest-fish pool.

Lina said, “I’m getting the feeling this outfit was a mistake.”

“You look lovely.”

“I look like an accident waiting to happen. Be honest, Eric. I’ve never been fishing. Is this boat going to get real grotty tonight?”

“Grotty? How about colorful?”

“Colorful. And the water the other day wasn’t numbingly cold. It was bracing.”

His face lit in a wide, irrepressible grin. He looked so much like his sons at that moment, she had to laugh.

“Okay. Colorful,” she conceded. “I’ll probably be hip-deep in colorful by the end of the night.”

He reached into the cooler he’d placed near Joy’s. “Have a brew or two and you’ll forget to worry about it.”

In the ocean now, the boat picked up serious speed, whipping a trailing froth. The engine rumbled loudly, and Lina caught the occasional whiff of diesel smoke when the wind shifted. She reveled in the heady sensation of motion as the boat quickly put mile after mile of water between itself and Long Island.

A couple of mates were busy at a crude table near the stern, hacking fish carcasses into small pieces and depositing the resulting bloody mess in buckets, a singularly revolting spectacle. Eric explained that when the boat reached its destination, this chum would be tossed over the side to attract the bluefish.

A few shrieking gulls followed their progress over the ocean, flapping their wings tirelessly, intent on the chum-chopping. Once in a while a mate tossed a piece of fish skyward, which would be unerringly snagged midair in an eager beak.

A sleek cigarette boat bounced across the wake, and the occupants exchanged a friendly greeting with Lina and her fellow fishermen. Fisherwomen? She took a sip of her beer and decided they were all fishers. She grinned. Gender-neutral recreation.

“I hope that smile means you’re enjoying yourself.” Eric leaned against the railing, his hair wind-whipped, his eyes dark and penetrating. The sky was still light under cloud haze, stained a fragile salmon pink in the west, kissing his features with the seductive play of soft light and softer shadow.

“I’m having a blast.” Impulsively she laid her hand on his and squeezed. “Why have I never gone deep-sea fishing before?” She looked down where her fingers rested on Eric’s. His hand was warm, sun-browned, dusted with dark copper hair. She narrowed her eyes. Something was different.

A lighter band of skin encircled the base of the third finger. His left ring finger.

Bare.

Stunned, she looked up into his face. “Your ring,” she whispered.

He smiled gently and turned his hand over to clasp hers. He looked out over the endless ocean. Long moments later, he said simply, “It was time.”

She looked toward the front of the boat, where Adam and Daniel had detected the presence of a pair of cute college girls in cropped T-shirts and microscopic cutoffs. The girls were bending over the railing, enjoying the view. The boys had lapsed into silence, having discovered an equally absorbing view.

She knew she shouldn’t, but she asked it anyway. “How do the boys react when you go on dates?”

“I wouldn’t know. I haven’t dated since Ruth died.”

Was he serious? This hot man hadn’t been with a woman in a year and a half? She knew it wasn’t for lack of opportunity. The image of pretty little Amy from the cooking class popped into her mind. That girl had done everything short of a striptease on the butcher block to snag the chef’s attention.

His eyes widened. “You don’t believe me.”

“Well, of course I believe you. I’m just...surprised, that’s all.”

“Why?”

Why? Because you’re the sexiest man I’ve ever met, that’s why. Because I lie in my lonely little bed at night, every night, and imagine you doing every naughty thing I can think of. To me.

She shrugged. “No reason.”

He upended his beer bottle and took a long swig, his fathomless eyes boring into hers the whole time. She smiled as innocently as she knew how and wondered if her thoughts were scrolling across her forehead in flashing letters. She pushed her hair behind her ear. His mouth spread into a full-fledged grin of triumph.

Damn damn damn!

Dredging up her most worldly demeanor, Lina lifted her chin. “Well, to be honest, Eric, there’s no denying you’re an attractive man—”
To be honest, Eric, you’re a heart-stopping, knee-weakening, toe-curling hunk
“—and there are plenty of lonely women out there—”
or so I’ve been told
“—and it’s just hard for me to believe...um...”
that your love life is as catatonic as mine.

He waited patiently. “Yes...?”

“Well, it’s just hard to believe, that’s all.”

He sighed. “Do you know how my wife died, Lina?”

She swallowed hard. “Yes.”

“It was sudden and tragic. My world was turned upside down. The boys needed me, they needed all the time and attention I could give them. And we’d been in the process of getting The Cookhouse off the ground, Ruth and I. I couldn’t just abandon it. My kids and my business have taken all my time, all my mental energy. From an emotional standpoint, as far as women were concerned, I guess I closed myself off.” He smiled wryly. “Physical, of course, is something else again.”

It took a second for that last part to sink in.

Whoa! Back up there, sport.

She sucked in a breath. It hadn’t occurred to her, while they’d discussed Eric’s dearth of “dates,” that nice, uncomplicated, park-your-emotions-at-the-door sex might occupy another category altogether.

She thought of that day at the beach when they’d come close to doing the wild thing right there on the hot sand. Was that all she’d meant to him? A convenient way to alleviate his physical needs?

“You look like you’re choking down chum
en brochette
,” he commented dryly. “Don’t tell me. It’s something I said.”

“Let me get this straight. When you say ‘physical is something else again’...”

He gave her a knowing smile. “I mean only that there are certain, shall we say, primal needs I couldn’t close myself off from like I could the emotional. They’re there whether I like it or not.”

He was too darn jovial. And he still hadn’t answered her question.

Of course, she still hadn’t asked it.

She glanced around and moved closer to him. He leaned in, too, till the briny tang of the ocean breeze was replaced by the intoxicating essence of Eric. He put a finger on her lips before she could speak, his eyes glowing warmly. “I find your rabid curiosity flattering.”

Her mouth dropped open in outrage. He laughed again and closed her jaw, then put her out of her misery.

“I haven’t had sex since Ruth died.”

“I am not rabidly curious,” she said. “I couldn’t care less.”

“Sorry. My mistake.”

“Really? You haven’t?”

“Really. I said I had the urge, not that I indulged it. Mind you, there are times when a trussed chicken looks good to me, but...” He shrugged. “Your turn.”

Lina composed her features into what she hoped would pass for guileless confusion.

Eric was having none of it. “True confession time, my dear. Come on, all the kids are doin’ it.”

Hoisted with her own petard. “Whatever do you want to know?” she asked airily.

His bark of laughter had heads turning up and down the railing. “I want to know about your sex life, of course.”

“Eric! For crying out loud.” He could at least whisper.

“That’s all right, I’ll just ask Joy.”

She seized his arm as he started to walk off. “Don’t you dare.” She wanted
some
secrets left. “Okay,” she conceded. “Fair’s fair, I guess.” She pushed her hair behind her ear.

“I’m waiting,” he said.

“Me, too,” she mumbled.

“You’re waiting, too?”

She growled in exasperation. “You know. Me, too. I haven’t...you know...”

“Oh.”

“Right.”

“Had sex.”

“Shh!”

“You haven’t had sex since your divorce.”

“
Shhh!
Eric, damn you, will you lower your voice?”

“You haven’t had sex in two years,” he stated matter-of-factly.

Lina slumped against the railing, certain that everyone aboard the
Captain Joe II
now had the inside track on her pitiful love life.

“Two years,” he continued, undaunted. “You win—a pair beats one and a half of a kind.” He stroked her hot face tenderly. “Looks like we’ve got a royal flush here.”

“Who brought this up in the first place?” she muttered.

“I don’t know, but I’m having fun. Why are you embarrassed? Don’t you know abstinence is a virtue in a lady? I’m the one with the tragic and shameful secret. I’m the one suffering testosterone poisoning.”