Flavor Of The Month (Kiss & Tell Book 2) (13 page)

Ben could also do without the negative press the restaurant was already getting. At first his problems had been a passing mention. This morning he’d earned an entire paragraph in the
Confidential
’s food critic’s corner. “Is Benardo’s Hideaway beginning to slide away into the night?” was just one of the remarks worthy of note.

Ben stood just inside the kitchen door, looking through the round window at the customers beyond. Everything appeared normal enough. The diners were laughing and drinking and eating just like any other night. Except that maybe a couple more tables than usual stood empty. And that a few of the guests seemed to be looking around as if waiting for something to happen.

But it was one guest in particular who held his attention most.

“Guess who.”

Warm soft hands slid to cover his eyes, making him smile wider than he had all day.

He hadn’t expected Reilly. In fact, when he’d talked to her an hour or so ago, she hadn’t breathed word one about making the drive out to the coast. She’d said something about finishing up an order then soaking in a hot bath and reading a good book before calling it an early night.

Ben slid his hands up her arms, awfully glad she’d either changed her mind or lied to him flat-out.

“Heidi?”

Her hands froze.

He chuckled then pulled her to his front so he could haul her to him, stiff back and all.

“That wasn’t even near funny,” she said, her hazel eyes shooting fireballs at him.

“So my sense of humor needs a bit of an adjustment.” He grinned. “Care to help me with it?”

“No.” She pushed against his chest. “Actually, you’re not even the one I’m here to see.”

He raised his brows, admitting to a stinging sensation in his stomach. “Oh?”

She made a face at him and he had the feeling he was going to pay for the Heidi comment. “Yes.” She picked up a blue bag with bows all over it she’d put down on the floor. “I’m here to see Fabio.”

“Fabio…” Ben said slowly.

He crossed his arms, watching as she moved to tap the surly, round chef on the shoulder. Fabio stopped barking midorder and turned to look at her, his face instantly softening into a smile.

Ben considered hiring Reilly on the spot if just to keep the old chef manageable.

“Oh, you should not have,” the Italian born Fabio said, throwing his right arm wide and catching her in a bear hug.

“You haven’t seen what’s in the bag yet,” Reilly objected.

Fabio gestured widely. “Does not matter. So long as it is from you, no?”

Reilly laughed and fished something out of the bag. “Here. Let me take that napkin you have tied around your shoulder,” she said. She carefully replaced it with a red sling bearing white words that read That’s “Boss” to You.

Ben rubbed his chin and grinned.

He watched as she pulled items out of the bag one by one. A specialized under-the-cast scratcher. A megaphone for the moments when he thought no one was listening to him and finally a collapsible chair so he might rest from time to time.

Fabio’s smile was as big as the kitchen. “You, you are the most beautiful woman in the whole world, Signorina Reilly.”

Ben took in her deep flush as Fabio kissed her heartily on both cheeks then turned to show off the gifts to the rest of the staff. Ben didn’t miss the groans from the cooks who had been taking the brunt of Fabio’s bad temper up until now, but the sounds were good-natured because Fabio appeared to have made a complete one-eighty the instant he laid eyes on Reilly.

Ben looked Reilly over from the top of her sexy head to the tips of her sandal-covered toes, knowing exactly where Fabio was coming from.

The door to the kitchen swung open and a server entered. When the door closed again, Ben stepped to it to look out.

“What’s the matter?” Reilly asked, coming to stand next to him.

He said simply, “It’s Monday.”

“Uh-huh…at least it was the last time I checked.”

He looked at her.

“Monday…Monday…oh! Monday!” She jostled him aside so she could look through the window. “Where is he?”

“Who?” he asked needlessly, slightly put out. Why did he get the impression that out of the two of them she would be the one to forget their anniversary?

“Your father, of course,” she said, sliding him a stare. “Wait, wait. He’s the one at the end of the bar, right?”

Ben stretched his neck then straightened his tie. “How’d you guess?”

“Because he’s the one who looks like he wants to run for the door.”

Ben grimaced.

“I’m just kidding, silly.” She put her arm around him. “I knew it was him because the two of you look so much alike.”

“We do?”

Ben looked through the window, having to put his head right next to Reilly’s in order to do so.

He’d never really noticed the similarities before, but now that he looked at his old man through Reilly’s eyes, he saw the resemblance. He and his father had the same straight nose. The same thick dark hair. The same tall, gangly build.

“What’s his name?” she asked.

“Huh?”

“His name?” She pulled back to look at Ben. “He does have one, doesn’t he?”

Ben was too busy watching his father peel the label off the bottle of beer Ben had special ordered for him. “Jerry.”

Reilly began to push through the door. Ben caught her arm. “Where are you going?”

She blinked those fathomless hazel eyes at him. “To introduce myself, of course. And to keep him company. No one likes to eat alone.”

Of course. Why hadn’t he thought of that?

Still, Ben could do little more than play bystander as Reilly stepped out into the dining area then approached his father, a friendly smile on her face while his father merely frowned at her.

Why did he get the feeling this whole idea was going to be a disaster? That inviting his father to come to the restaurant was a mistake?

He paced slightly away from the door and stayed to the side when a server went out and another came in. He’d been open for seven years and he’d never worried about what his father thought before.

The question was, why was he so concerned now?

And just what was Reilly saying to him?

J
ERRY
K
ANE
was as handsome and charming as his son was. And Reilly was genuinely enjoying her conversation with him. Having both been born and raised in L.A., they discussed the differences between the true natives and the transplants, what it had been like for him when he’d bought his first hot-dog stand at nineteen and how she’d used her grandmother’s money to start up her own company six months ago. He had stories about the fifties and sixties era screen actors that made her jaw drop, and even had a theory on the Black Dahlia murder that had gone unsolved so many years ago.

Reilly was mesmerized. By him. By his stories. And by all that he knew about Ben and she never would.

“You know,” Reilly said, accepting a refill of a diet cola while the server took away Jerry’s finished plate of Jerry’s Gourmet Hot Dog. “Ben hardly says anything about his mother.”

Jerry stared down at his beer, his expression as sober as she’d seen it since she first sat next to him. “He wouldn’t. Mostly because there isn’t that much to tell.”

She glanced over at the kitchen door, finding Ben staring at the two of them like a young child caught outside the candy shop with no money in his pocket. She wondered why he didn’t come out. Why he didn’t join them.

“Ben’s mother,” Jerry said, staring at the wall, though she suspected he didn’t see it or the many awards it held. “I met her one day when she ordered a hot dog with ketchup and no mustard.” Jerry shrugged, an almost wistful smile on his face. “She was so beautiful I couldn’t tell her that no self-respecting hot dog lover puts ketchup on a hot dog.” He grinned at her. “But I did ask her for a date. Three weeks later we drove to Vegas and got married.”

“That’s romantic,” Reilly said with a sigh.

He nodded. “It was. At the time. A real whirlwind romance, that one. The best and only of my life.”

Reilly wanted to ask questions but felt that in this case it was better not to pry. Let him share what he would without her poking around painful scars.

He looked at her, his blue eyes a little cloudier than Ben’s, but no less powerful in their ability to capture her attention. “She was a dancer, she was. Even appeared in a couple of those dance swim movies with Esther Williams.” He shook his head. “I remember waking up every morning trying to figure out how I’d ever managed to land her. A real beauty.”

Reilly glanced around the restaurant and the old framed movie posters hanging there. She hadn’t noticed before, but near the front door hung a photo of a beautiful, leggy blonde, posing for the camera. Ben’s mother? She didn’t have the heart to ask considering she didn’t know where the story would go.

Jerry sipped at his beer. “Almost two months to the day we got married she found out she was pregnant.”

“With Ben?”

He nodded. “With Ben.”

He didn’t immediately offer anything more and Reilly fidgeted a bit. “That must have been a happy time for you,” she asked, praying she hadn’t put her entire foot in her mouth.

He glanced at her, the expression on his face one of genuine puzzlement. “Ben really hasn’t said anything about his mother to you, has he?”

She shook her head, wondering where that put her on a scale of one to ten in the dating game. Minus two?

“That’s all right. I don’t imagine he talks to anyone about her. Lord knows the two of us never discuss her.” He shook his head. “The day after Ben was born, she just up and left the hospital and never came back again.”

Reilly’s breath hitched in her throat.

Jerry nodded. “Yes, you heard me right. In her note, she said something about a baby not being in her plans. I already knew that she would have gotten rid of him if she could have. But abortion was illegal in those days. And I wouldn’t let her go to one of those butchers.” He briefly closed his eyes. “I kept thinking that if I loved her enough, if I showed enough enthusiasm for the baby, she’d come around, you know? Alter her plans to become the next big star.”

Oh, God. “So Ben never knew his mother?”

Jerry shook his head. “No. I never let him see the letter. Or the postcard I got from her once. From Atlantic City. She said she was working as a showgirl there. It was brief, to the point and didn’t mention Ben at all. I’m not sure she even knew his name. I named him after she left. After my own father.”

Reilly’s gaze was drawn back to the man standing behind the kitchen window. Her heart gave a tender squeeze. So macho. So confident.

So much like a little boy that had never known his mother and craved approval from his father.

“That must have been hard for the two of you.”

Jerry chuckled. “Hard is a state of mind. It was our reality. And I think we made a pretty good run of it.” He picked up his beer bottle and gestured around the restaurant. “By the looks of it, we’ve made a very good run of it.”

Reilly smiled. “Ben would probably like to hear that you approve.”

Jerry glanced at her, his face full of surprise. “Ben? No. He’s always known what he wants, and I’m sure he got it. He doesn’t need my approval anymore.”

Reilly gently touched his arm. “Oh, I think he needs it more than you know.”

B
EN WAS
in the way. He’d had to move to the side of the door to let servers in and out so often he was wearing a recognizable path in the tile under his feet.

What were they talking about? He noticed the way Reilly touched his father’s arm and felt a burst of curiosity, and of warmth so strong it nearly knocked him off balance.

His father looked to be getting up from his stool. Ben knew a moment of panic. This was his dad’s first time at his restaurant, and aside from sitting with him for five minutes when he’d first arrived, Ben had barely said two words to him.

And now his dad was leaving.

Adrenaline pushed Ben through the kitchen door where he nearly hit one of the waitresses square in the kisser.

He apologized, asked if she was all right, then headed for the bar and his father.

“Ben!” Reilly said, a huge smile lighting her pretty face.

Ben looked at his father. “Leaving so soon?”

Jerry didn’t meet his gaze. “Never let it be said that a Kane overstayed his welcome.” He squared his shoulders, making Ben even more aware that Reilly had been right in comparing them. “You’re obviously busy. I’ll only be in the way.”

“Oh, you’re not,” Reilly said, pushing from her stool to stand next to him.

Silence stretched between the threesome until Reilly cleared her throat, throwing a stern look Ben’s way. He wanted to say, “What? What did I do?” but didn’t.

Instead, he listened to her say, “Well, Mr. Kane, it was a true pleasure to meet you. I hope this isn’t the last time our paths cross.”

His father grinned in a way Ben didn’t think he’d seen him grin before. “The pleasure was all mine, Ms. Chudowski.”

Ben was the recipient of another one of those stern gazes, then Reilly left the two men alone as she headed back toward the kitchen.

“Nice girl,” Jerry said. “And pretty to boot.”

“Yes, she is, isn’t she?” Not exactly what he’d been expecting to hear. Not that he didn’t appreciate his father’s appreciation of Reilly, but he’d waited so long to hear what his father had to say about Benardo’s Hideaway. And that’s what he wanted to come out of his dad’s mouth.

“Enjoy dinner?” Ben asked.

Jerry looked back at the bar that had already been wiped clean when he wasn’t looking. “No self-respecting hot-dog lover puts beans on their hot dog.”

Ben blinked. That was it? That was all he had to say?

Jerry clamped a hand on his shoulder. “But it was damn good, son.” He squeezed almost to the point of pain, the same way he used to when Ben was a kid. The only real display of emotion that had been allowed in the Kane house. “I’m proud of you.” He looked around. “This is some place you got here. A comfortable place where a man can enjoy a good beer and good company and good food.”

Ben felt like a ten-story building had just been lifted off him, no matter how hard his father continued to grip him. “It’s not a hot-dog stand.”

His father chuckled and shook his head. “No. That it’s not. But that’s not necessarily a bad thing, either.”

Ben squinted at him. “But I thought…”

His father waited. But when Ben couldn’t seem to get the words out, Jerry said, “But you thought I’d be disappointed because it wasn’t one of the hot-dog stands.”

Ben nodded.

“Hell, boy, those stands nearly killed me. I was happy you sold them when you did.”

Ben didn’t know what to say at first. Then he threw back his head and howled with laughter.

He gathered his father up in a giant bear hug, showing the type of emotion he was sure Jerry Kane had never experienced before with another man. And damn it felt good.

“You’re a stubborn old cuss, you know that, Pops?”

He felt his father’s arms make an awkward move to encircle him, then he was returning the hug full-heartedly. “Just remember, the apple never falls far from the tree, son.”

B
EN BACKED
Reilly into his house and kicked the door closed with his foot as he freed his left hand from where it was welded to her firm bottom so he could turn on the lights.

“You’re a miracle worker,” he said, kissing her again and again, ravenously, unable to get enough of her. “You should be elevated to the status of saint.”

Reilly laughed, exposing her neck to him. He took complete advantage and dove in for some major nuzzling action. “If I were a saint, would you be doing what you are?”

Ben knew a moment of pause, then he grinned against her sweet-smelling skin. “No.”

“Well, then.”

He worked his hand up under the hem of her skirt and made a beeline for the crotch of her panties. She gasped.

“I’ve got to tell you,” she whispered. “You didn’t make it easy on me. I swear, I thought you were going to stay in the kitchen and just watch your father leave without saying goodbye.”

Ben closed his eyes and groaned, his concentration momentarily broken. “I was afraid I was, too.” He nipped at her neck. “But I had to know. I had to find out what he thought.”

“And?” she asked, working her hands up under his shirt.

“And he liked the place.”

She caught his head in her hands. “Ben, baby, he loved it.”

He was sure the grin he wore was stupid, but he couldn’t help it. “Yeah, he did, didn’t he?”

She laughed and planted a wet one right on his mouth. “You’re incorrigible.”

“And you need to get out of those clothes.”

He made another dive for her panties. Was she wearing a thong? Dear Lord, she was. “These have to go,” he said, grabbing the crotch and pulling. The telltale tearing made her gasp.

“What are you doing? Do you know how much those cost?”

He pulled back to see how upset she really was. Her cheeks were pink, and her eyes glistened, but within an instant she was kissing him again, all forgiven.

Oh, how he was coming to love this woman.

He maneuvered her toward his bedroom, this time not bothering to open the drapes and the windows but rather launching her straight across his bed.

She squealed in surprise as she bounced once, twice, then pushed herself up to sit.

It was all he could do not to jump on her right then. Instead he headed for the connecting bath and turned on the hot tub. He returned to find her sitting right where he’d left her, looking a bit puzzled.

“What?” she asked when he remained standing by the bed.

“Nothing. I’m just enjoying the view.”

She looked down to find her skirt bunched up around her waist, baring her pink flesh to his gaze. She tugged on the hem, partially covering herself. “Perv.”

“Flasher.” He strode across the room away from the bed.

“What are you doing now?” she asked, obviously impatient for him to join her.

“Hold on a minute. I bought you something today.”

She pushed herself up farther. “For me? You got me a gift?”

He opened a drawer and took out a red, wrapped package. “Actually, it’s more for me than it is for you.”

Reilly frowned after he tossed it to her. She shook the package beside her ear. “I thought the point was to get me out of my clothes, not make me put different ones on.”

He dropped his trousers then shrugged out of his shirt. “Would you just open the damn gift, Rei?”

“Well, I can already tell it’s not a ring box,” she said.

Ben stared at her. “What?”

She made a face. “Nothing.” She tore into the paper. Ben would have given a little more thought to what she’d just said except he was anxious to see her reaction to what he’d bought.

The sound she made when she stared at the box’s contents was between horrified and disgusted.

“Oh, God,” she muttered, holding up the pair of enormous panties with the tip of her index finger. “You can’t be serious.” She dropped the white cotton back into the box and closed it as if trying to contain an army of ants. “You’re never going to let me live those underpants down, are you?”

He grabbed the box and took the pants back out. “Oh, no. Actually, I want you to promise me that from here on in these are the only type of underpants you’ll wear.”

She blinked at him as if he’d left his brain back at the restaurant. “You are a pervert, aren’t you?”

“You’re the one who wears them, so what does that make you?”

She tried to snatch the panties away from him. “I
used to
wear them. And I wore them because they were comfortable. Period. Not because I, even in my most ridiculous fantasies, ever thought they were sexy.”

He waggled his brows at her. “That’s because you’re not privy to some of the dreams I’ve had.” He curved his fingers around one of her ankles and hauled her toward the edge of the bed. “Come here and let me put these on.”

She kicked at him. “You are not putting those things on me, Ben!”

“What? Aren’t they the right size?”

She reached for the panties to check the tag inside. “Yes, they’re the right size. Which makes me feel even worse, thank you.”