Recipe for Attraction (11 page)

“We’re not dating, but there’s no way he’s gay.”

“All right, chica. I believe you”

They weren’t together. Any togetherness they shared was strictly for his safety to keep him from succumbing to his own demons. Carson snorted under her breath. If anyone should be pitied it was her. She was way in over her head with Neil Harrison. And if she wasn’t careful, she’d risk losing more than her reputation. As soon as the grand opening was finished, Carson would move on to bigger and better things.

“Maybe you should care because in five years, if he’s still single, I’ll totally make a move,” Selena said.

“Everything all right here?” Neil had walked over to their station and inspected their progress with his normal scrutinizing look.

“We’re getting things done, Chef,” Selena answered.

“Looks more like girl talk to me.”

“Of course not, Chef.” Carson responded. She looked down at the strawberries she was tasked with cutting for the tart. She looked over at the boys table and her slices didn’t look anything like theirs.

And who knew a minute steak took only a minute to cook? She burned hers. But her onions, they were pretty damn caramelized. She fared better than she had expected considering she hadn’t cooked a full meal in…ever.

When the food was cooked and eaten and all the stations had been cleaned, Neil announced a winner—the kid in the blue hat. She’d been beaten by a teenager. Not that she wanted the prize. Just the bragging rights associated with proving to Neil she was good at everything she touched.

The kids left and the two of them packed up their supplies.

“You’re good with those kids. A little standoffish, but still good.”

“All I need to do is teach them to cook. I don’t need to be their friend.”

That was…abrupt. And not the answer she was expecting. “They look up to you.”

“I never asked to be a role model.” He thrust the left over shallots in a plastic bag.

Carson leaned across the counter and settled her hand on his. “But you are a role model.” He had built up the wall that had divided them prior to their agreement. He was hiding himself.

“Street racing. Jail.” He shrugged. “Some role model.” He grabbed the bags that were full off the counter and stalked off to place them at the door. “They should choose someone else. Cole or Finn, even Old Jack, pre-Sterling, would be a better choice.”

“Why don’t you put yourself on that list? I don’t understand.”

Neil returned to where she sat at the front of the room. “I’ll help them any way I can. Hell, I’d probably even give them money if they needed it, but they don’t want me. I’m…” He returned to the counter and wiped down the laminate. “Never mind.”

“Neil, please…”

He threw the cloth into the sink. “This is a private class and the kids don’t need a stranger coming in here and judging them.”

“Judging? Is that what you think I’m doing?”

He had it all wrong. She admired these kids. They were taking the initiative to change their lives. At that age, Carson had made all the wrong decisions.

“What else would you do? Most people judge kids like this. Feel sorry for them.”

She knew he was speaking from experience. Neil Harrison was a confident, established businessman with the world at his fingertips but on some level he was still the scared little foster child waiting for the rug to be pulled out from under him.

“Neil, look at me.” She pulled at his hand and brought him closer to where she sat. “Do you think I’m judging you?”

“You wouldn’t be the first.” Neil locked his gaze on hers. “I’m a fraud. A ticking time bomb. A relationship disaster waiting to happen.” He wiped at the already clean counter with his palm . “I didn’t have a good male role model growing up. How can I possibly be one for a kid now?”

“Not having a male role model doesn’t mean you can’t be one.” She didn’t know Neil’s story, what happened to put him in the system, but she knew it couldn’t have been good.

“Neil, please talk to me.”

He slumped onto a stool, his shoulders hunched forward, but she still held onto his hand. And she didn’t intend to let go.

“I saw only violence and abuse, at home and then in foster homes. That’s all I know. You don’t know… you don’t know what it’s like for girls in who end up in bad foster homes.” He shook his head, unable to say more. The reason behind his distance—the discomfort with under-aged girls—she now understood. “Those are the male role models
I
know. That’s who
I
learned from.”

It would also explain why he never had a long-term girlfriend and kept the kids at an emotional distance. He thought he wasn’t good enough to be loved. He thought he was going to disappoint people with actions he probably wasn’t even capable of.

“Kids are preconditioned to repeat their parent’s mistakes. If I choose not to connect with anyone, I’m saving them from pain later on.”

“Neil. That’s just not true. You know that.”

He shrugged and pulled his hand away.

“I think you don’t give yourself enough credit.”

He had no idea how much he gave of himself and how much it mattered. What contributions did she make? It was Carson who didn’t deserve a man like Neil. He had been an innocent child and any mistakes he had made came from fear. Carson’s shame resulted from her own foolish decisions. She couldn’t take back what she did, ever.

She pushed a dark lock of hair off his forehead. “You’ll see. When push comes to shove, your instincts will prove that you’re not a nasty person. You’re good and kind, and protective. You may be a little hot-headed, but so am I. And I’m not saying that because I’m your sex slave.”

He laughed. It was good to see him lighten up.

“Come on, Harrison. Let’s get you home.”

“What if I don’t want to go home just yet?” Desire returned to his eyes. And she loved teasing that desire.

“Well I need to drop you off somewhere. Once I do that, the only thing left to do is the fucking.”

Neil jumped off his chair and grabbed her hand, pulling her toward the door.

Chapter Seven

Neil stared out the window of the truck as Carson drove them back to the site. He’d done exactly what he hadn’t wanted to do. He’d opened up. But he should have known that Carson wasn’t the type of person to hold his past against him. She believed in him. A lot more than he believed in himself.

When they pulled up to the site, a group of vans were parked along the road. People milled about the entrance that was sealed off with a chain link fence until the grand opening. A security detail had been positioned inside the compound for safety.

But these weren’t just any people, they held microphones and cameras. The press. What the hell were they doing here?

“Uh, Neil…” Carson pulled up as far as she could and put the truck in park.

“Let me handle this.”

Neil jumped out of the cab and penetrated the group.

“The grand opening of the site is in a couple of weeks. I’m sure you can appreciate that until then, we aren’t in the position to accommodate interviews.”

Neil banged on the fence and got the attention of the security guard who got out of his car to open the entrance. Neil turned and walked back to the truck.

“Mr. Harrison?” A reporter walked up to him. “Is it true that you’re involved in an illegal street racing ring?”

He stopped short and turned. “Excuse me?”

The reporter continued. “It’s been reported that last night you were arrested and detained for street racing.” How the fuck did the press know about his arrest?

The driver’s side door opened and Carson stepped out. Her eyes locked on his.

Another reporter weaseled in and asked, “How long have you been involved in street racing?”

“Did your mother know you were into illegal activities?”

“Are you aware of the annual casualties caused by street racing?”

The questions bombarded him from all sides.

Anger percolated just under his skin at the mention of his mother. But he would remain calm. Instead of lashing out he fisted his hands at his side.

A reporter stepped out of the crowd. “What if you had killed someone?”

He heard Carson gasp from the other side of the truck. The look on her face told him more than she had the entire time they had spent together. Her involvement in this racing world was deeper than she let on and it was time for her to come clean.

“Are you two an item?” A microphone was shoved in his face and it was the last straw. He was like a teapot ready to boil over, ready to explode. And this time he couldn’t hold it in.

He pushed the reporter out of his way.

“Neil!” Carson shouted, but it barely registered.

The man stumbled backward running into the cameraman who almost lost his grip. Great. Now they have footage of him assaulting a reporter. Way to keep the focus on the restaurant.

Arms wrapped around him and pulled him back to the truck. The next thing he knew he was pushed into the passenger seat and driven through the entrance, the chain link fence closing them in.

Carson slammed the breaks near the entrance to the restaurant and Neil immediately jumped out of the truck. He was in some major need of calm and there was only one place that never failed to give him a sense of peace.

He slipped the key into the front door and barged inside but Carson was right on his heels as he stormed right to the kitchen.

He walked into the immaculate space to the island and placed his palms face down on the steel and hung his head.

“Are you all right?” Carson’s soft voice carried over his shoulder.

He inhaled deeply and regulated his breathing. Damn those reporters. He’d tried his hardest to keep the media attention away from him and focus it on the site. He wanted the business to thrive because of the hard work and the food, not the gossip associated with the owner.

Once he’d calmed down a bit, he turned his focus to the woman who stood quietly behind him. He’d seen the stricken look on her face when the reporter has asked about someone getting killed.

He needed answers. And he wasn’t going to let her skirt around the issue. Not anymore.

“It’s time for you to trust me.”

Her mouth opened, as if she was going to speak, but she snapped it shut again.

“Carson, tell me.”

“I used to race.” Her voice was barely audible.

“That I already know.” He waited. She grew visibly more uncomfortable with every passing second.

“What you don’t know is that I might have been the one who found that spot to race at. It’s why I recognized the red clay.”

That wasn’t so bad. So she found a spot. That probably made her very popular with the group.

“And when Diaz took over running things, he…” She paused and squeezed her body a little tighter. “He might have taken over from me.”

He cocked his head to the side. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t you get it?
I
was Diaz.
I
ran things. I’m the one who started things up when I was seventeen years old. And I killed someone.”

“How could you kill someone? I don’t believe that.”

Carson might be a hot-head but she wasn’t a murderer. Of that he knew right down to his soul.

“I didn’t kill him, but I was responsible for his death. It was on my watch.”

So he wasn’t the only one with skeletons in their closet. And he had to admit he never expected such hulking skeletons to rattle inside Carson’s.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It isn’t something you open conversation with.” She stepped back and held out her hand. “Hello, I’m an irresponsible street hooligan that helped orchestrate the death of my friend. Please, hire me.”

He made his way around the island toward her. Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her close.

“You said you didn’t want your personal life to overshadow this project. If people knew we were involved…if people knew…I’d never be taken seriously.” Her tears fell in thick streams and torturous guilt shone in her eyes. He heart squeezed at her pain.

“Carson?”

She buried her head against his chest, unwilling to look him in the face. “You think you’re such a bad person? You think you’re not a role model? Look at me.” She pulled away and flung her arms out to her sides. “I am a woman who will never be more than a street racer who can’t carry on the family name. My father will never let me forget it.”

“Didn’t you just tell me that I’m not my past?” He pulled her close again and stroked her hair. We’re the same. Both of us trying to outrun our past.”

She raised her head and looked into his eyes.

“I would never judge you.”

She smiled up at him, a weak smile, but it told him she understood. As if knowing the mood needed to be lightened, his stomach growled and Carson laughed and swiped away her tears.

“How can you even be hungry after eating all that food with the kids?”

He shrugged. “I’m a growing boy.”

“Why don’t we do something that always makes me feel better?”

“I don’t know if I’m in the mood for—”

“Not sex.” He leaned down and kissed her soft lips. “At least not right at this very moment. Cooking.”

She nodded, wiggled out of his grip and wiped away the tears.

After grabbing the left over ingredients from the truck, Neil set to work preparing for their meal.

“Do you cook at home?” he asked.

“Pointless when there’s only me. Plus I don’t really have the time to make elaborate dinners. It’s grilled cheese and soup or take-out.”

“Glamorous.”

She laughed.

“You did very well tonight.” He had been particularly impressed with her onions. Normally people cooked them on too high a setting and they became hard and crunchy.

Her eyes narrowed and she crossed her arms over her chest. “For as much as it pains me to say this, to you of all people, I sucked.”

“I’m serious. Your onions were soft and the perfect shade of brown.”

“I can’t believe I burned that steak.” She approached the counter and rested the heels of her hands on the steel and leaned forward. “But at least I have the satisfaction of knowing that I can kick your ass in the boxing ring. It’s what lets me rest easy at night.”

He pulled down a couple of colanders from the wall where they hung above the sink. “It’s still undetermined.”

And it would forever be undetermined. He would never get in the ring with her. He would never hit her, even for sport.

“What are you making?”

He gestured with his chin. “Come over and find out.”

Besides lightening the mood, this meal was also a thank you. Carson had given up her free time to drive him around. He wasn’t a romantic guy. He didn’t even consider himself thoughtful, but he did know how to cook. And his mother always said that cooking for a woman proved you had what it took to be a good provider and most importantly, it showed that you cared. Not that he needed to prove anything to Carson.

But he had to admit, when he was with her the world seemed right. Not once did he think about racing. Not once did the urge to ride take over his entire being.

And when he wasn’t with her, he was thinking about her. About their time together which had been sexy and fun and…perfect.

He’d spent too many years being cast aside without so much as a second glance until Vivian Madewood had come along. She glanced, once, twice, a third time and offered him a place in her home.

In such a short time, Vivian had made him believe he was important, worth more than what his little brain had repeated to himself, as if on a disc. It took him a long time to change the phrase.

Then along came Carson. She challenged him. Called him out on his bullshit, which caused him to be even more of a dick. They brought out the worst in each other …and yet it was the closest and most intimate he’d been with anyone. Maybe that’s what he needed.

She sidled up to the counter top where his ingredients were spread out.

“Oh…I was hoping you’d make the veal” Her eyes grew wide with excitement.

He nodded. “Veal chops, string beans fresh from Jack and Sterling’s garden and, my personal favorite, garlic mashed potatoes.” He hadn’t planned on cooking for two when he purchased food to keep himself fed while staying at the farm, but for Carson, he was willing to share.

“For a master chef, your favorite food seems pretty simple.”

“Simple is always the best way to cook.” He pulled the veal out of the brown wrapping and let it rest on a plate.

“Cooking is easy.” He dropped the beans into a colander. “It’s everything else that’s tough.”

“Like…”

He sighed. She wanted personal information again. He just wasn’t sure of how personal he wanted to get. “Like…everything. Relationships, running a business.” He looked up into her eyes. She was always so inviting, even when they weren’t wrapped in each other’s arms. “Relationships.”

She laughed. “You said that one already.”

“It’s the toughest and hardest for me.”

Despite his hesitance, disclosing information to Carson wasn’t as difficult as he wanted it to be. It was as if his subconscious knew he didn’t have to play everything so close to the hip with her.

She tucked her hair behind her ear. “I understand. Women can be…tough to interpret.”

“It’s not just women. In fact that’s the easiest one of all because I don’t have to have a relationship with them. I can keep it casual, where everyone knows where they stand.”

He liked it that way. Or so he thought. With Carson, he didn’t want casual. He wanted her with him, cooking, laughing, bickering, sparring. Oddly enough, she fit into the world he had built around him.

The realization was almost overwhelming. He pushed it aside, focusing instead on the task at hand—chopping his fresh rosemary.

“The hard relationships are my brothers, my mother, trying to figure out which foster parents were the real deal.” He stopped the knife but didn’t look up. “For the record, most of them were not.”

“I could see how that would skew your view of things.”

“It took me a long time to trust Vivian and by the time I did, she’d brought home Cole and Finn and the dynamic completely changed…again.”

“You were afraid she wasn’t going to love you anymore.”

He shrugged. “But that never happened. We did everything as a family and Vivian made sure to spend an equal amount of time alone with all of us.”

“Do you know why she didn’t have children of her own?”

“She couldn’t. All the money in the world at her fingertips and it couldn’t buy the one thing she wanted most in the world.”

Sometimes he felt guilty that such a wonderful woman had been saddled with a son like him—that she would have preferred to have a child of her own flesh and blood. Someone that was a mixture of both her and Arnold, her husband that had passed before she’d decided to foster him and his brothers. But she reassured him every day with her support and love. Up until that time, even his biological parents hadn’t been capable of showing that kind of love.

“So that’s my story.” It was a lot more than he had planned on disclosing. “And now that I know your secrets, I understand the architecture dream.”

She shrugged. “That is the dream.” She didn’t sound very convincing.

“You don’t love it?”

He didn’t know what he would do if he couldn’t cook anymore. If the restaurant business was not a part of his life.

“On the contrary, I do love it.” Her thumbnail picked at the counter top. “It’s just not fun anymore.”

He cocked his head waiting for her to elaborate. Finally, she let out a deep breath and continued. “Working for my father is stressful, demanding. I have huge shoes to fill which he reminds me of every day. Not to mention the fact that nothing I do is ever good enough.”

“How can that be? I’ve seen your work.” He opened his arms and motioned to the restaurant. “You’re very good.”

She shrugged. A tiny smile curving at the side of her lip. “Thanks. But it’s not only my father.” She sighed. Her body language screamed discomfort. “You remember Martin Connelly, the right-hand man I mentioned?”