Feel the Heat (Hot In the Kitchen) (26 page)

One of Jules’s slight shoulders lifted in a half-shrug that contrasted with the downturn of her mouth. She picked up a stapler from the desk and proceeded to pull it apart. “They don’t care. They’re on their annual pilgrimage to ex-pat-landia on the Costa del Sol.”

“I’m calling them now,” he threatened, eager to take out his frustration on the people who were supposed to be responsible for her. Acknowledging Jules’s adulthood had always been nigh on impossible for him, between her irresponsible attitude and her recalcitrance whenever he offered help. That she was here at all meant she was in serious trouble, and maybe more than just being pregnant.

“You can’t reach them. They don’t have international mobiles.” That sounded plausible—he usually phoned them at home—but he couldn’t be certain. His sister had a tendency for an excessive liberality with the truth. She lifted her eyes, his mother’s eyes, to meet his. They were wide with confusion and fear. His heart sank further, if possible. The confusion might be out of his wheelhouse right now, but he could do something about the fear.

Shifting her head slightly, she addressed a spot behind him. “You look skinnier in person.”

He turned to find Lili hovering in the doorway, Jules’s purse dangling in one hand, a glass of water in the other. She deposited the bag inside, gently, as if running a military stealth operation. Now he absorbed the rest of her appearance. Something black and Audrey Hepburnesque covered by a server’s apron. Her legs were sheathed in shiny boots on spiky heels, and he felt the now-familiar hardening of his body. Could that be any more inappropriate?

He spun about to face Jules. “Who is it? Do I know him?” Anger mounted in his throat and he fought to suppress it before it turned into a full-on rush.

“It’s no one you know,” his sister muttered.

“I know a lot of people. Try me.” This dickhead was on the hook for knocking up his sister and he’d better be prepared to take full responsibility.

“Eight million people in London, Jack. Even you can’t know everyone.” She squinted up at him like Clint Eastwood.

Lili set the water down on the desk and wheeled out another chair, hitting the back of his legs. He supposed that was an invitation to sit. As soon as he did, Jules’s slender shoulders slackened, and he realized that standing over her, he’d been scaring her. Worst brother ever.

“How do you feel?” He looked up at Lili, who had backed away but halted at whatever she saw on his face.

“A little tired,” Jules said. She grasped the water glass with trembling hands.

Once she had taken a sip, he took both her hands in his. Really, he wanted to hold her close but she wasn’t one for big displays of affection. Where he preferred to rant and rail and hug it out, she turned her focus inward and shut down shop. But for the physical resemblance, he might wonder if they were related.

“Baby girl, we’re going to fix this.” He tried to remember the last time he’d called her that and came up empty. A stab of pain lacerated his lungs.

“I’m not going back to London, Jack,” she said defiantly, withdrawing her hands from his. She knew that would be his first suggestion. “I’m sorry about barging in but I couldn’t wait.”

He didn’t have to look behind him to know that Cara and assorted crew were strafing his back with visual gunfire, willing him back to the kitchen.

“Can you wait here while I finish up?” Not that she had anywhere to go. She had always been tall, but now her body looked boneless and small and nowhere near ready for the burden of a child. His heart exploded with his love for her and his fervent wish she was anywhere but here. He nodded to Lili to follow him out and headed through the door.

Outside the office, they stood facing each other, trying to craft a moment of quiet above the metallic clinks of the kitchen a few feet away. She brushed his hand, testing, and they exhaled as one, then took a long breath together. He was relearning to breathe and she was his teacher. With soft fingers, she stroked his forearm, rhythmically, tracing a path from elbow to wrist. She hadn’t said a thing, but he felt soothing words in her touch.

He longed to slip under cool sheets, wrap his body around her, and sleep for a week.

“What a fucking mess,” he finally grunted out, because they couldn’t stand here all night and it was true. “She hates me.”

“Because it’s all about you, Jack Kilroy.”

Ouch, a low shot, but thoroughly deserved.

She pressed her soft hand into his. “She’s in trouble and she came to see you. Her big brother.”

He shuddered out a begrudging breath, reluctant to acknowledge that might be conceivable. “Could you sit with her? I don’t want her to be alone.” The fury and frustration had simmered to helplessness, such an unfamiliar feeling. He solved problems and no situation was ever too broken for him to fix.

The compassion in Lili’s eyes almost undid him. “Sure. Go finish up the show. I’ll take care of her.”

“She should eat something,” he said, grasping at the one thing in his control. Jack, provider of sustenance.

A slight smile touched her lips. “I’ll get her some gnocchi. She should have real Italian food, not whatever hash you’re slinging in there.” That tugged a half-grin from him. “And I’ll get someone to take her home to my mom.”

“To your parents’ house?”

“Jack, she’s just come off a long flight, and she’s tired and emotional. She needs a bite to eat and a good night’s sleep.”

She needs her mother. Her aunt had never been the most maternal type, though she had convinced him otherwise years ago. Right about the time she told him he was out of his mind to think a cocky eighteen-year-old could ever be a proper parent to an eight-year-old girl. She had persuaded him Jules would be better off with them. He had been easy to persuade.

“I don’t want to impose on Francesca,” he countered halfheartedly, knowing all the while that placing his sister in her care was the best solution for now.

“It’s not imposing. Italian mothers live for this. And when she’s rested and”—she fiddled with a button on his chef’s jacket—“and you’re calmer, you two can sort it out.”

She was right, of course. He was in no condition to talk to Jules, and any conversation between them would quickly descend to hurling insults and pulling up past slights. He moved closer and the scent of vanilla and hibiscus, the scent of her, made him dizzy. Even now, with the proverbial shit pummeling the fan, he reveled in the rush that proximity to her always gave him.

“Thanks,” he said, relief and pleasure flooding him equally. He pressed her palm flush to his chest and her fingers spread, their warmth seeping through the starched cotton. It made no sense, but somehow he knew he could handle Jules with Lili in his corner.

“Jack, there’s something you need to—”

“Hate to break this up, people, but we do still have a show to finish.” Cara appeared at his side, eyes flashing in warning.
Bugger.

Servers walked by carrying dessert plates of Tony’s gelato and sorbet combo. Behind those swing doors, Laurent was likely having Siberian tiger cubs. In leaving the cocoon of warmth that radiated from Lili’s body, Jack immediately felt bereft. Perhaps this was how it would always be when he couldn’t be near her. Wanting something this much couldn’t be right; it could only end badly.

“Good thing this night is almost over,” he said, wiping his damp brow. “Everything’s gone pear-shaped in the kitchen. Dropping stuff, dishes coming back. We taste everything before it goes out, so I’ve no idea what’s happening. It’s like we’re complete amateurs in here.”

She wrinkled her nose. Laurent was spot on. Cute as hell.

“Well, about that. We have a problem.”

A shot of alarm buzzed his brain. “What kind of problem?”

“Gina got a little carried away. She added salt to a couple of your dishes.” She gave a sympathetic mouth twist. “Misplaced family loyalty.”

Oh…His stomach plummeted to below floor level. “How long have you known about this?”

“I was just coming to tell you when your—”

“Because we started getting dishes back about forty minutes ago.”

She managed to pull off baffled pretty well. “It was only supposed to be a couple. I was told nothing had been returned.”

“You were told wrong.” Only supposed to be a couple? There had to be at least ten returns and those were just the ones who had bothered. Add to that the overly acidic salsa for the lamb chops, which could just as easily have been sabotaged with a quick flick of the wrist.

“As soon as I discovered Gina with the salt—”

“You mean one of your well-trained girls? Don’t blame it on her, Lili. You’re in charge out there. The least you can do is own up to it.”

Her face underwent a run of diverse movements. She was struggling to change gears, grasping for spaces. A couple of the waitstaff halted to watch the sideshow. Jerry, cameraman-gone-rogue, had decided the action outside the kitchen was hotter than whatever was happening on the line. From the corner of his eye, Jack caught Tony peeking through the kitchen’s doors. He looked concerned. He bloody well should be.

“What the fuck is going on here, Lili?”

Her tongue darted out, wetting her plump lower lip. She blinked rapidly and her gaze flicked over his shoulder. “Could we go somewhere quiet and talk about this?”

“No, we cannot. I want to know why your family felt it necessary to screw with my service. No matter who wins, the restaurant still gets publicity. This didn’t need to happen.” He had to be missing something. He drew closer and crowded her, then cupped her chin. “So Gina came up with this all by herself, did she?”

“Jack—”

“Leave her alone,” a deep voice cut in.

He turned to the source, surprised to find Marco invading his body space, his grasping gaze on Lili.

“Stay out of it, Rossi,” Jack ground out.

“Marco, it’s okay,” Lili said in that soft salve of a voice she had used to calm Jack five minutes ago.

“Yeah, Marco, it’s okay,” Jack mimicked, not caring that he sounded childish.

Marco’s gaze narrowed to snakelike slits. “Quit bullying her, Kilroy.”

“I’m not bullying her. I’m trying to have a private conversation here.”

“Nothing you do is private.” He waved his hand around the semicircle of spectators comprising restaurant and TV crews that ended at Jerry, who with his shoulder-held camera captured Jack’s meltdown frame for frame.

That’s when a different blast of technology glinted and caught Jack’s eye. Raised phones in the hands of those well-trained girls, each one grabbing footage for their next upload. Not just the girls. Marco held his mobile at thigh level but Jack knew in his heart of hearts where it had been a moment before.

“Were you filming us? Did you film my sister?” These people would stop at nothing. His vision went dark around the edges and before he even realized it, he had shoved Marco in the chest. A testing shot.

“Jack!”

Lili laid her hand on his arm, and he jerked away. Marco’s lips curled up in a condescending smile like the fucker had been proved right before he moved in farther, sucking the air Jack needed to breathe.

“The universe doesn’t revolve around you, Kilroy. You’re beginning to sound paranoid.” He caressed Lili’s forearm. “Come on, Lili.”

Jack blocked him, rage coursing through him in a torrent. “So help me God, if you don’t take your hand off her—”

“You’ll what? Pound me like you did that photographer?”

“That would be too generous.”

“Jack, stop,” Lili said quietly.

Anger surged in a flood, closer to the surface because of what he had thought he’d gained. “You’re taking his side now?”

“Of course not,” she said, but her eyes betrayed her. Something passed between her and Marco, and she colored as deep as a habanero pepper.

He tried to swallow, but his throat felt like it was filled with broken glass. He had misjudged the situation completely. This was Lili’s life, her family, her raison d’être. Marco and his gambling problems. Lili and her chronic case of familial devotion. Former lovers, maybe current lovers, working together to get publicity for their baby. Working him.

He’d had his suspicions about the DeLucas involvement in the video, but Lili had dismissed them as crazy talk.
Oh no, Jack. My cousins would never do a thing like that.
He knew better now. Someone had done exactly that. A wave of emotion careened through him, leaving him nauseated, like he’d eaten a clutch of bad clams. Had Lili known all along? Had she encouraged it? Cara’s words returned in an icy rush.
When I suggested she indulge in your services…
And her cousins, with their T-shirts and their Facebook pages and their media campaign worthy of any New York or LA PR outfit had capitalized on Lili’s fame faster than you can say “Jack and the fat chick.” The sickening conclusion slammed him so hard his chest caved.

Hello, baseball bat, welcome back.

Everyone watched, eyes stripping them bare. Servers, kitchen staff, and show crew waited on the balls of their feet. Cara towered in an angry shimmer with hip cocked and lips puckered.

“Can we please finish this effing show?” she called out, and it was enough to shatter the tableau everyone was frozen in. It was also enough to loosen the clog in his throat.

“Show’s over.”

Silence reigned and vacant expressions greeted this pronouncement. For fuck’s sake, his own crew didn’t even take him seriously.