The Maverick's Christmas Homecoming Page 4

  The blonde at the table cleared her throat, demanding her share of attention. “Hello, Mr. Roarke. I’m Daisy Tucker.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Tucker.”

  “Daisy. And the pleasure is all mine.”

  He didn’t miss the flirty expression, the seductive tone, and there was a time when he’d have flirted back. Partly to fuel his reputation and get his name in the paper. Although he’d just mocked the tabloids, any marketing expert would tell you that even bad publicity is good, anything that gets your name out there. He was no expert, but knew the information that his biological father was a criminal would take bad publicity to a different, not good level.

  “Shane,” Miranda said, “after opening restaurants in so many big cities here in the States, I expected you to conquer London, Paris and Rome. It was really a surprise to find you were the executive chef here in off-the-beaten-path Montana.”

  “I had my reasons.”

  “But Thunder Canyon? What’s the appeal?”

  He spotted Gianna’s bright hair across the room, just as she was coming out of the kitchen and a knot of need tightened in his belly. She wasn’t the reason he’d taken the job but just being able to watch her was definitely appealing. The not-touching mandate was his cross to bear.

  “That’s difficult to put into words.” He looked from one beautiful face to the other. “I simply fell in love with Thunder Canyon.”

  “In that case,” Miranda said, “maybe you could suggest some places to visit while we’re here.”

  It was a hint for him to show them around and not a very subtle one. Even if he had the time, he wasn’t interested. “It was actually love at first sight with Thunder Canyon. I haven’t been here that long and haven’t had time to explore much.”

  “Then maybe old friends from out of town is a good excuse to see the local highlights.”

  “As tempting as that would be, my schedule is really tight. I’ve got parties every weekend and several during the week until Christmas.” It wouldn’t be politically correct to tell her he wasn’t interested. “You’re better off checking with the concierge at your hotel.”

  “I’m very disappointed,” she said.

  “Me, too. You know what they say. This is the most wonderful time of the year.”

  “Ho, ho, ho.” Miranda pretended to pout.

  “It was wonderful to see you. Happy holidays.” He kissed each woman on the cheek. “Duty calls.”

  He turned away and scanned the room, something he did frequently. It was a chance to make sure service was impeccable, that people were relaxed and happy. How he’d love to get a helping of happy for himself. Speaking of relaxed... He spotted a romantic booth for two and recognized the romantic couple occupying it.

  Angie Anderson and Forrest Traub radiated love like a convection oven. That spontaneous thought begged the question: Where in the world had this recent poetic streak come from and when would he shake it?

  He headed in their direction and when the two of them stopped gazing into each other’s eyes for a moment, they spotted him. After weaving his way through the tables, he slid into the booth against the wall on the seat across from them. The other side had plenty of room for several more members of a platoon since Angie sat so close to Forrest, there was no space between them.

  “Hi,” he said to them.

  “Merry Christmas.” Angie was a college student and a volunteer at the town’s teen hangout called ROOTS. In her early twenties, her shiny brown hair and dark eyes made her look like a teenager herself. “How are you, Shane?”

  “Okay. What’s up with you guys?”

  “I’m counting the days until classes are over and it’s vacation.”

  “Even with studying for finals she finds time to help the kids out with the holiday letters for soldiers.” Forrest put his hand on hers, resting on his forearm. His hair was still military short and he had the muscular fitness and bearing of a soldier, even with the limp from a wound he’d sustained while deployed overseas.

  “It makes me feel good to volunteer. What goes around comes around and I want this Christmas to be perfect for everyone,” she said. “It’s our first together.”

  “It’s already perfect for me. Santa came early this year. I’ve already got everything I want.” The depth of his feelings for this woman was right there in Forrest’s eyes.

  “Me, too.” Angie leaned her head against his shoulder for a moment.

  Shane felt like an intruder at the same time he envied them. People Magazine’s most eligible bachelor chef had never felt quite so alone before and he was sure that information would surprise the inquiring minds that wanted to know. It wasn’t so much about this young couple as it was wanting to touch Gianna and not being able to. Denying himself the pleasure of kissing her under the stars seemed more than stupid when he looked at these two.

  “Actually, Shane, I’m really glad they let you out of the kitchen tonight.”

  “It happens every once in a while.” He grinned at them.

  “We were hoping to see you,” she said.

  “Planning to hit me up to cater your wedding reception?” he teased.

  “Maybe.” Forrest laughed. “Seriously, we wanted to thank you again for all your hard work cooking such a fantastic Thanksgiving dinner for military families. Every single person said the only thing better would have been to have their son or daughter, father or mother home.”

  “He’s right, Shane.” Angie glanced at the man she loved, then back. “We can’t thank you enough for what you did. You’re the best.”

  “Not really.”

  He knew it was meant as a compliment but he wondered whether or not they’d feel the same if the truth came out that he was the son of Thunder Canyon’s very own crook. He’d hurt Gianna tonight by brushing her off. If she knew the truth about him, she’d probably feel as if she’d dodged a bullet. Except for a strategically placed R, crook and cook were the same.

  The burden of his father’s identity still weighed heavily on him. For now it was his secret and keeping it to himself was the only way to control the flow of information. That meant not getting close to anyone.

  Or kissing anyone. Immediately he thought of Gianna. Even her name sounded beautiful and exotic. The fire in her hair and freckles on her nose were a contradiction that tempted him every time he saw her.

  And he saw her almost every day.

  Chapter Three

  At work on Friday Gianna was crabby and it was all Shane Roarke’s fault. She’d seen him the previous night smiling his charming smile at the brunette and blonde, chatting them up as if they were the only two women in the world. That wouldn’t bother her so much if he hadn’t given her wine and food in this very kitchen and smiled his charming smile at her. Then he invited her to his place for a test run of a new recipe where he charmed her some more.

  She loved being charmed but wished he’d kept it to himself because all of that attention had fed into her crush, the one now starved into submission because without fuel there was nowhere to go. She was doing her best to not think about him but that resolve was challenged earlier tonight when she’d seen him brooding. It was the same expression she’d noticed the night of her double duty, although what the handsome, successful, famous Shane Roarke had to brood about was beyond her.

  She pushed through the double doors and he looked up from whatever he was sautéing. And that was the thing. He never looked up when he was cooking. The buildin
g could be on fire and he’d still focus on the food. A girl noticed stuff like that when she had a crush on a guy. For the last three days he’d ignored her unless special requests from a customer made a conversation necessary to get the order just right. Tonight Shane had looked at her every time she was around, no matter what he was doing.

  Gianna ignored him as she put in the order for two salads with romaine lettuce and the most delicious croutons on the planet. The prep cook would toss it with Shane’s special dressing, then add freshly grated Parmesan cheese. She picked up the wide, shallow bowls and set them on a tray. As she went to the double doors to go check on her tables a feeling prickled between her shoulder blades. Glancing over her shoulder she saw a hot and hungry expression in Shane’s gaze. There was something up with him and she was involved.

  As soon as she came back for the salads, she’d find out what was going on with him. After leaving the kitchen she walked through the maze of tables and stopped.

  She knew these two, had seen them in here individually. Both were somewhere in their mid-fifties, and widowed. She saw they still had salad on the plates in front of them on the white, cloth-covered table. “Still working on those salads, Mrs. Bausch, Mr. Walters.”

  He was a big bear of a man with the calloused hands and leathery skin of someone who worked outdoors. “When are you going to call me Ben, little lady?”

  “As soon as you stop calling me little lady. My name is Gianna.”

  “You got it, Gianna.” There was a twinkle in his blue eyes.

  “I haven’t seen you two in here together before.” She was curious.

  “This is a blind date.” Kay Bausch was characteristically direct. “Austin Anderson set us up. You probably know he’s an engineer at Traub Oil Montana where I’m the secretary to the company president.”

  “Ethan?”

  “Points to you, Gianna. That’s the right Traub. And there are so many of them that sometimes it’s hard to keep the names straight.” She looked across the table at her blind date. “Ben has known him since he was a teenager. Austin, not Ethan.”

  “He’s a good kid,” Ben answered, his mouth curving upward to form a smile in his rugged face. “He was kind of lost after his mom died in a car accident when he was only a teenager. Turned out he just needed a steady hand.”

  “That’s nice at any age.” Kay’s voice was a little wistful. “And now he’s got his wife, Rose, Ethan’s sister. They’ll have their first anniversary on Christmas.”

  Gianna felt a twist in her chest that signaled a severe case of envy. She’d seen the couple in here for dinner and the glow of their love still radiated. It’s what she had once hoped to find and now had all but given up on. Still, feeling sorry for herself was something she tried to do on her own time.

  “Apparently Austin is quite the romantic.”

  “How do you mean?” Ben asked her, but the expression on his face said he knew where she was going with this.

  “He fixed you two up. How’s that working for you?” She looked at Kay, then Ben.

  His grin was full of the devil. “So far I’m not sorry I put on this coat and tie.”

  “You look very handsome. And uncomfortable,” Kay added. “The effort has not gone unnoticed or unappreciated.”

  “Good to know. Because it has to be said that there’s no way to beat a comfortable pair of jeans.”

  “I couldn’t agree more,” his date said.

  “Something in common already.” Gianna nodded approvingly. “Can I get you anything else right now?”

  “Nope. Got everything so far.” Ben was looking at his companion, who smiled like a young girl.

  “Okay, then. Bon appétit. You two enjoy.”

  Again weaving through the dining-room tables filled with people, she made her way back to the kitchen. Shane looked up as he was arranging shrimp in wine sauce over rice on two plates. Bonnie grabbed them, threw a nod of support, then left with the plates on a tray. She was alone with the chef and it was a sign, Gianna thought.

  She marched over to where he stood in front of the stove and not all the heat she felt was from the cooking. “What’s going on?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Are you going to have me fired?” She folded her arms over her chest as she met his gaze. She didn’t know where the question came from but her luck had been so bad it was best to get the worst case scenario out of the way first.

  The surprise in his eyes was genuine. “What?”

  “You keep staring at me and it’s not a happy look. You’re going to tell the manager to fire me, aren’t you?”

  “No.”

  She waited for an explanation, but it didn’t come. “Then it’s my imagination that you keep watching me?”

  “No.”

  Again nothing further. He was the most frustrating, exasperating man she’d ever met and she had a talent for meeting exasperating men who frustrated her. “Then I don’t get it. I don’t understand what you want from me.”

  A muscle jerked in his jaw and his mouth pulled tight. He was fighting some internal battle and it was anyone’s guess which way things would go. Finally he all but growled, “Then I’ll show you what I want.”

  He took her hand and tugged her down the short hallway and into the large, walk-in pantry where nonperishable, industrial-size supplies were kept. Canned goods, jars of olive oil, flour, sugar and spices were all stored in here on floor-to-ceiling metal shelves. Shane shut the door, closing them in.

  “You know,” Gianna said, her tone a little breathless, “you didn’t need to bring me in here to yell at me. Public chastisement is okay. I can take it. Just tell me what—”

  The words were cut off when he pulled her into his arms. “This is what I want to tell you.”

  And then he kissed her. His lips were soft, gentle, but there was nothing gentle about the effect on her senses. It felt as if a wave of emotions crashed over her and she was floating because her legs went weak. The scent of his spicy cologne mixed with the pleasant smell of oil, spices and fire. Blood pounded in her ears and the feel of her breasts crushed against his hard chest was simply scrumptious.

  He cupped the back of her head in his palm to make the meeting of their mouths more firm, and the harsh sounds of his breathing combined with hers and filled the storeroom. She would have been happy to stay like that forever, but Shane pulled away. It could have been an hour or a nanosecond because time in this alternate sensuous universe was hard to quantify.

  She blinked up at him and said, “Does that mean I’m not in trouble?”

  “That’s what it means.” He leaned his forehead against hers. “I’ve been wanting to do that all week.”

  “Really?” Since her thoughts were smoking hot along with the rest of her, Gianna had trouble pulling herself together to call him on the fact that he’d ignored her most of the week. Somehow she managed. “You have a very odd way of showing it.”

  “You’re right.” He blew out a long breath and backed up a step, as if he needed distance to think clearly, too. “My behavior is inexcusable. Mixed signals.”

  “You think?”

  “I don’t think. It’s a fact I’ve been running hot and cold.”

  “I noticed.” After that kiss she definitely preferred hot, but given his recent mercurial moods it was best not to have expectations.

  “Personal stuff in the workplace is a rocky road to go down. It’s tricky to navigate. I was trying to take the high road
, do the right thing. I’d never want to make you uncomfortable.”

  “You could have used your words,” she pointed out, “said something. I know a thing or two about being conflicted regarding...personal stuff.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes.” She lifted her chin a little self-consciously. In for a penny, in for a pound. Might as well use her words. Never let it be said she was a do-as-I-say-not-as-I-do person. “I understand how sometimes it’s easy starting down a path, but the right time to turn off it can be tricky.”

  “Very Zen of you.”

  “Okay. Here’s an example. I dated a divorce attorney for over two years before we had ‘the talk’ where I found out he never planned to commit. Should have turned off that path a lot sooner.”

  “I see.”

  “Then there was the accountant who saw too many joint checking accounts split, not necessarily down the middle, by messy breakups. There’s a year and a half I’ll never get back.”

  “Okay.”

  “The college professor who said up front that he was a loner. That one is my own fault.”

  “You’ve definitely had a conflict or two.”

  “Yes, I have. As with my job, I can handle it. You don’t need to protect me. I’m a big girl.”

  “I noticed.” His eyes were like twin blue flames with the heat turned up high.

  “Don’t hold back on my account.”

  “It won’t happen again,” he agreed.

  “That was a very nice kiss.”

  One of his dark eyebrows lifted. “Nice?”

  “Location, location, location.” She looked around the storeroom and wrinkled her nose. “For the record? The balcony of your apartment has much better mojo.”

  “Everyone’s a critic.” He grinned. “Let me make it up to you.”

  “How?” She should be ashamed at being so easy, but darned if she could manage that.

  “Meet me here after work and I’ll show you.”

  “Okay.” Way too easy. The end of her shift wouldn’t come fast enough.