Guilty Pleasures (19 page)

She couldn't go on like this. That much was obvious.

Would it be such a hardship? New York was a beautiful place. They needed all the good chefs they could get. And they had seasons, she remembered. Maybe she'd like fall.

You'd probably hate winter.

Well, okay, there was that. But she'd have Nick to keep her warm, and that was what was important, wasn't it? He'd probably even hire her…turnabout was fair play.

And what would everybody on the crew do?

They were all talented—they could get jobs easily. Was she really worried about them, or was she using them as an excuse not to take that final risk?

She loved them. She loved their spirit. And she loved her restaurant.

This was the choice Nick had to make—the one you pushed,
she reminded herself. She'd just have to learn to live with it…or die trying.

“You're burning your…what is that, anyway?”

She didn't open her eyes. “It's bread pudding.” She sighed. “Okay, okay, I'll get it.”

She was so used to sensing Nick, the fact that her overtired subconscious had created Nick's voice so perfectly was no surprise. She pulled the bread pudding out from the oven, then turned.

The
vision
of him, however, was something of a shock.

She dropped the pan.

“Careful,” he said, grabbing a second pair of oven mitts and cleaning up the mess. He looked just as she remembered. Okay, a little more rumpled than she remembered. And tired—he looked tired, especially around the eyes. He had a rough days growth of beard, and he was eyeing her like a dessert he wanted to sample.

“Obviously I've hit the wall,” she said, as she watched him rescue her other dessert attempts, leaving them on the butcher-block counter to cool. She shut the oven off with a click. “Normally I'm in bed before I see you this clearly.”

“I can't believe you didn't hear me come in.”

She blinked. Then she walked up to him, her fingers reaching forward.

She pinched his shoulder. Hard.

“Ouch! Dammit,” he grimaced. “What was that for?”

She smiled. “You're…really here,” she said softly.

She threw herself into his arms.

“I used my key,” he said. “I didn't give it back. I was praying you didn't change the locks.”

“Didn't think I'd need to,” she said. “Didn't think you'd come back.”

He held her against him. She could hear his heart beating strong if somewhat unsteadily under her ear. She pressed as tightly as she could to him, relishing the feel of him kissing her temples, stroking her back. “I wasn't ready. I'm sorry.”

She pulled back enough to look at him. “Are you back…for a visit?” She didn't want to ask directly, but her heart was in her eyes.

“Not exactly.” He stroked her cheek, then kissed her gently on the lips. “As it happens, I need a job.”

She stared at him. “You gave up the restaurant?”

He shrugged. “I figured out it wasn't really what I wanted, after all.” He hugged her to him, and she smiled. “I worked it out that I didn't want to be fi
nanced by a rich man who thought that being successful and prominent was more important than being a good father. And I didn't want a bunch of back-stabbing chefs that I'd need daily reports on. And I certainly didn't want to be written up in a bunch of magazines and idolized by a bunch of people who really didn't matter to me, when I could be here, among people who are my friends…and loved by the woman I love most.”

She kissed him long and hard, with all the passion she'd stored up since he went away.

“I love you,” she said. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too,” he said.

She hugged him tight.

“Besides,” he whispered, starting to tug off her shirt. “If I stay here, I can still make all the menus myself, anyway.”

She looked into his eyes, with a mix of passion and longing.

“Like hell,” she said, and while he was laughing she kissed him.

Five Months Later

C
HAOS REIGNED
in the Guilty Pleasures kitchen. And they'd only opened their door an hour ago. Nick looked around. Leon was there, helping train the new line cooks who'd been hired. Lindsay was studying Leon's advice diligently—she had decided to become more useful in the kitchen, and with her usual drive, she'd been practicing for the past two months. Mo was busily taking reservations for the week, smiling as he filled the book and told people there wasn't room—they'd been doing such gangbuster business, there were lines down the block every night. Tiny, Zooey, Juan and Paulo were discussing the menu for a competition they were thinking of entering in a few months. All in all, the place was a noisy, riotous, busy conflagration.

Nick grinned. It felt like he'd come home.

He noticed arms around his waist, and turned to see Mari smiling up at him. “How's it going?” she murmured, kissing him.

He smiled, his arms going around hers as well. “We're going to get slammed tonight,” he said, “and the line cooks are coming along.”

“Great,” she said, tugging him toward the back room and away from the noise of the kitchen. “If we're going to expand into more of the building, then we're going to need all the help we can get.”

Nick shook his head. “I still can't believe Phillip's agreeing to lease us more of the building, and help kick in on the renovation.”

Mari smiled, stroking his cheek. “It's different now. Since you came back, there isn't any rivalry.”

He shrugged. “Since he shut down Le Chapeau Noir, too,” he said. It still felt weird. He wasn't ready to trust Phillip completely yet, but it was nice to see a glimpse of the man he'd been friends with back in school.

He leaned against the desk, pulling Mari against him. “I never thought I'd be this happy,” he said, kissing her neck and smiling at the little breathless gasp she made. His hands cupped her backside.

“Door,” she said, tugging away and shutting the door they'd only had installed in the past month. She clicked the lock in place, and then looked at him, her eyes hungry. “Sorry. What were you saying?”

She stepped between his legs, brushing against him, her breasts teasing his chest.

“I was saying,” he resumed, stroking the undersides of her breasts, smoothing his hands down her sides to her hips, “that I never thought I'd be this happy.”

She looked into his eyes, and his hands stopped roaming for a minute. “After I lost my restaurant—my
first
restaurant—I thought I'd lost everything that
mattered to me,” she whispered. “But if I hadn't lost all that, I never would have found you.”

“That's it exactly,” he whispered, then kissed her roughly, enjoying the feel of her hands in his hair, the way her tongue rubbed against his. “I love you.”

She smiled. “I…”

There was a banging on the door, and the two of them turned.

“Hey, lunch hour is coming up,” Paulo said, humor obvious in his tone. “You two aren't going to be long in your
meeting,
are you?”

Nick looked at Mari, with a slow, seductive smile. “Are we going to be long?” he whispered.

She reached for his pants, grinning back impishly. “We'll be out in a minute,” she yelled back.

He could hear the whole crew laugh in the other room, and heard Paulo's derisive snort.

“Aw,” he said, before Nick heard him turn away, “you two say that every day.”

“I think they're onto us,” Nick said, tugging at Mari's shirt.

“Shut up,” she replied, her eyes glowing, “and kiss me. We have to hurry up and get back to work.”