Authors: Melissa Cutler
One Hot Summer (46 page)
“That's enough, Emily,” Ty said, but there was no mistaking the tinge of regret in his eyes.
Knox rose slowly, buttoning his suit jacket as he loomed over Emily. “Are you asking to be fired, Ms. Ford? Because I was hoping the chef I hire for the new restaurant would see the value in keeping on some of the resort's restaurant workers as line cooks.”
Emily stood to face him nose to nose while visualizing the way his suit would look covered in mushroom reduction, sweet potato puree, and bits of roasted pheasant.
“Emily, leave us,” Ty said, standing. “We'll serve ourselves the rest of the meal.”
Ty's tone left no room for argument.
Emily stalked away from the table, but lingered in front of the serving tray near the door. She glanced back at the table, where both men were resuming their seats. Not too late to make a childish protest using one of the plated lunches. In the end, she decided against it, out of respect for Ty more than any sense of dignity or self-preservation.
With a sniff, she left the room. As the door closed behind her, Knox's voice wafted through the air. “I wouldn't have expected that from you, Ty. Sleeping with the special event chef. Interesting. And against my business policy.”
Emily tenuous self-control snapped. She pivoted on her heel, pushed the office door open, and grabbed one of the lidded lunch plates. In one sweeping motion, she pulled the silver lid off and lunged at Knox, overturning the food into the bastard's lap. She stood over him, seething and watching glorious glops of gravy and sweet potatoes ooze like lava into the creases of his slacks.
Ty Briscoe is like a father to me. The father I never had. He took a huge risk in giving me a job when I was a no-name chef school graduate. His family took me in when I had nothing and no one. When I was goddamn homeless, you son of a bitch.
Of course, she didn't say any of that. She refused to splay open her chest and give Knox Briscoe one single glimpse of her heart. His careless response to her peaches was proof enough of his lack of a soul.
For his part, Knox didn't rise or curse at herâas Ty was doing, she noticed out of the corner of her eyeânor did he attempt to clean himself off. He kept his cucumber-cool gaze locked on hers, a slight smirk curved on his lips. “Did I hit too close to home on that observation, Ms. Ford?”
Emily braced her hands on the table and the back of his chair. “I may not know what your father did to get disowned by the Briscoes, but it's no wonder you're trying to deflect some of that shame you inherited from him onto the people of this resort. Even after all these years, it still stings, doesn't it? Whatever he did to get shunned? The shame of it all?”
A shadow crossed Knox's face. Good. She'd meant for that to hurt. She picked one of the pheasant halves off his lap by the drumstick and took a bite of the meaty breast. Delicious, briny, and with a flavor profile that any Michelin star chef would kill to have created. She tossed the pheasant bones back on his lap.
“It makes sense, now, this whole alpha power vibe you've got going on. You know what they say about men who seem like they're overcompensating for something.”
The shadow vanished from Knox's eyes and the shark-like calculation returned. “That they have big feet? Or am I mixing my old wives' tales?”
A hand closed around Emily's arm and tugged her away. Ty pushed between her and Knox, scolding her, apologizing to Knox. When did the giant she'd long revered as a force of nature turn into a spineless, apologetic noodle? She would've never expected her idol to fall from grace in the blink of an eye.
“Emily, please. Leave us,” Ty said. “You're embarrassing yourself and insulting me.”
That pulled her up short. She was way beyond caring if she embarrassed herself, but she did care about insulting Ty. She might not trust Ty to know what he was doing, not after this crippling deal with the devil himself. But she still respected Ty enough to honor his plea. With a nod, she walked with stiff, proud steps to the door.
“Ms. Ford, the suspense is killing me. What do they say about men who seem like they're overcompensating?” Knox said, sounding amused.
Gritting her teeth, she paused with one foot out the door and tossed a look over her shoulder, startling all over again at Knox's aura of cool perfection. The cut of his jaw, the fullness of his lips, eyes that were as cruel as they were wise. How had she ever thought she could win over a man like that with peaches and pheasant? Whatever family shame Knox was overcompensating for, it wasn't going to save Emily or her beloved resort. Knox Briscoe was beyond redemption, her career was over before it had even gotten off the ground, and life was never going to be the same again.
“Haven't you heard?” she said. “The thing about men who seem like they're overcompensating for something is that they always are.”
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Melissa Cutler
has the best job in the world writing sexy contemporary romances and romantic suspense. She was struck at an early age by an unrelenting travel bug and is probably planning her next vacation as you read this. When she's not globetrotting, she's enjoying Southern California's flip-flop wearing weather and wrangling two rambunctious kids. You can sign up for email updates
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Contents
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This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.
ONE HOT SUMMER
Copyright © 2016 by Melissa Cutler.
Excerpt from
One More Taste
Copyright © 2016 by Melissa Cutler.
Cover photographs
©
Shutterstock
Author Photo ©
Tessa Deshamais
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eISBN: 978-1-4668-8309-3
St. Martin's Paperbacks edition / April 2016
St. Martin's Paperbacks are published by St. Martin's Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.