Seducing the Chef (At First Sight #1) (6 page)

“I am. Allie is my name. Who are you?”

“Stella Ramsey. I won’t allow you to ruin my son’s restaurant the way your father destroyed my husband’s. Get out and don’t return.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. My father never destroyed any restaurant.” Allie swallowed. Ramsey. The other half of the feud.

“Just get out.”

“Not until I know what this is about.” No way was this woman going to force her to run, especially when her father had been adamant about her not doing a feature on Five Cuisines. An old feud wasn’t a good reason.

Stella Ramsey grasped Allie’s arm and dragged her toward the door. “If you publish one word about Five Cuisines in that rag your father owns, we’ll sue.”

Allie shook her head. “Restaurants are thrilled to be featured in good Eatin’.”

“Not this one.”

“Mom, what are you doing?”

Allie turned and stared at Greg. Why was he here? Then his words registered. “Five Cuisines is yours?”

He nodded. “Yes.”

Mrs. Ramsey fisted her hands on her hips. “Now you can see what I said was true. You sent her a letter refusing an article about the restaurant and yet here she is.”

“Mom, I…”

“What letter?” Allie asked. “If you’re interested to hear, my father forbade me to feature this place.”

“Liar,” Mrs. Ramsey said.

“I don’t lie.”

“Allie, just go,” Greg said.

The ice in his voice made her want to cry. “My reason for being here isn’t what she thinks.”

“Don’t listen to her,” Mrs. Ramsey said.

Allie strode to the door. Outside she edged around a group of people. Would he come to the apartment tonight or would he listen to his mother? Destroying Five Cuisines was the last thing Allie wanted to do.

* * *

Greg watched until Allie vanished. He turned to his mother. “What is going on?”

“When she arrived for her setting I thought she looked familiar. I was busy with reservations. Later I went to check her out and knew she was Peter Blakefield’s daughter. He sent her here.”

“Why would he do that?”

“I told you about his rivalry with your father. Peter can’t stand to see a Ramsey succeed. Destroying your father’s family has been bread for years. He wants you to lose Five Cuisines the way your father lost Le Provencal. She’s a clever young woman. I imagine she flattered you.”

Greg steered his mother downstairs to the office and closed the door. “That’s not how things went. I made the first move. I like her. She had no idea who I was.”

“I don’t believe that. This is the third night she’s eaten here. She’s up to something. Once I saw the credit card I checked the reservations. Someone at the magazine made the reservations for her.” She clutched his arm. “Just how involved are you?”

“I believe she’s the one.”

“How could you? Haven’t you heard a thing I’ve said? You’re a fool.”

He shook his head. “I don’t think the past has anything to do with Allie and me.”

Stella collapsed on a chair. “Are you sleeping with her?”

“I’m not going to answer that.”

“If you loved your father you’ll stay as far from that woman as you can. You can’t let your life be ruined, too.”

“Just because her name’s Blakefield doesn’t mean she wants to cause trouble.”

“Just how much do you know about her?”

Greg swallowed. He knew she was beautiful, responsible and an exciting lover. He knew her taste in books, movies and music. She knew and appreciated good food. And holding her in his arms felt right. “Not much.” He looked at his watch. “I need to head to the kitchen and you have your duties as hostess.”

His mother rose. “Make sure to see me before you leave. We need to discuss how much damage your little fling has done.”

Greg wasn’t sure his mother’s fears were real. What he and Allie had shared was more than a fling. When he considered walking away from her he felt deep sadness. Pushing those thoughts aside he returned to the kitchen and concentrated on the food.

By eleven the last order had been cooked and served. The staff busily cleaned the kitchen. Greg walked to the office. His mother waited. She sat at the computer.

“What are you up to?” he asked.

“Googled her. Read this.”

Greg stepped behind her and saw Allie’s picture. She wore a business suit. Her delightful smile was missing. He read the opening paragraph and looked at the questions.

Allie: Of course we don’t do spreads on every restaurant I visit. What you’re hinting isn’t correct. There are a number of reasons we don’t feature a particular place. There are owners who don’t want a feature article.

Interviewer: I’ve heard some restaurant have failed when the public learns you visited and refused to do a feature.

Allie: That’s odd since the only  people who know which ones I visit are my staff and the owners of the restaurant. Some owners might tell their staff. If a leak came from mine, they would be gone.

“See.” Stella Ramsey tapped the screen.

“That doesn’t mean she’s here to do harm.”

His mother snorted. “Son, you’re a fool. You need to tell her you know the game she’s playing and if any mention of her visit becomes public we’ll sue.”

“You don’t know what Allie plans.  Since you never read the articles Dad said Mr. Blakefield had written how do you know Dad didn’t lie?”

She shook her head. “After your father’s death I believed I would never hear from Peter again. The restaurant had been sold. We were on our way to live in Europe with my parents. We had a good life there. Though I was content in Italy you decided to return so I came with you.”

He nodded. “I had a dream and made it happen. I don’t understand your fear or your anger.”

She covered her face with her hands. “There’s more.”

“What?”

“After your father’s death Peter approached me and wanted me to stay with him, asked me to be his mistress and send you to some private school. He wanted to take care of me. I blamed him for Victor’s death. He denied writing the articles. I screamed how I couldn’t believe I’d ever loved him. I refused to be his kept woman.”

Greg put his arm around her shoulders. “You did what you felt was right. Why did you marry Dad when you didn’t love him?”

“I was pregnant.”

Greg felt a chill. Was Allie anything like her father? “So this Blakefield wouldn’t marry you.”

She shook her head. “Victor was your father. Peter and I never…you know. When he refused to take over Le Provencal I broke the engagement. Victor comforted and seduced me. Peter learned about the pregnancy. He vowed to get even and he did.”

Greg felt a surge of relief. “Are you sure Blakefield wanted you as his mistress. Maybe he wanted to marry you.”

Her face reddened. “He was married. His wife was dying. What else could he want? He’s sent his daughter to bring more harm to my life.”

Greg sank onto a chair. He didn’t know what to believe. Had the past happened the way his mother believed? His parents had been dramatic. How many nights had he heard breaking dishes and shouted arguments? He looked at the clock. Midnight. Allie waited. “I have to go.”

“To her?”

“I have to learn the truth.”

“If she’ll tell you. Remember who her father is and what I told you.”

He escorted his mother to her car and returned to the kitchen. “Mike, lock up.”

As he strode toward the complex he wondered what he would face. Truth or lies.

* * *

Allie paced from one end of the living room to the other. Midnight had passed and Greg hadn’t arrived. When she’d arrived at the apartment she hadn’t bothered to change clothes. Thoughts of Greg’s mother made Allie feel cold. The woman had acted as thought she’d faced an enemy not someone who could benefit Five Cuisines.

The idea of an ancient feud made no sense. What happened in the present was important. Why was Mrs. Ramsey so bitter?

Allie had no intention of bashing Five Cuisines. A rave was her goal. The fabulous food and the brilliant décor fascinated her. Bad reviews weren’t part of Good Eatin’. The magazine featured restaurants with excellent food or unique appeal. Greg’s fit both categories.

The doorbell rang. As she reached for the doorknob she felt like a prisoner headed to the gas chamber. The affair had blazed hot and fast. She didn’t want the ending before all delights had been savored.

She opened the door. “Come in.” When he didn’t take her into his arms she knew the end had arrived. She bit her lower lip. She wouldn’t cry. “You can leave. You look like your decision has been made.”

He glared. “Then you are Allison Blakefield of Good Eatin’.”

“Yes.”

“The woman who can make or break a restaurant with an acceptance or rejection with one review.”

She shook her head. “We don’t publish reviews good or bad.”

“No, you just spread the word you’ve decided not to feature a restaurant.”

“Never happened. If we would have done that we would have been sued. That has never happened.”

“Why didn’t you let me know who you were?”

“Maybe for the same reason you never mentioned you were Gregory Ramsey, chef and owner of Five Cuisines.”

He shrugged. “Who I am shouldn’t matter.”

She nodded. “Neither should my identity.”

“Why did you come here?”

“To visit the restaurant and try the food a dozen people I know spoke about. I sent you a letter. You didn’t respond. My father forbade a feature. I wanted to use my own judgment.”

He glared. “My mother told me about his hatred of my father. She mentioned the articles bashing Le Provencal, the restaurant my grandparents began and my father took over.”

“Our magazine doesn’t bash.”

“Are you calling my mother a liar?”

“Perhaps she was mistaken. Does she have these articles? Surely proof is needed when an accusation is made.”

He stared at the floor. “Mom didn’t read them but she watched my father burn them.” Greg turned toward the door. “Fifteen years ago your father offered to take care of my mother after my father’s death.”

Allie shook her head. “Did he plan to kill her?”

“Hardly. He wanted her for his mistress. He was married.”

“How do you know this?”

“He offered her an apartment. He wanted me to go to some private school. What else could she think?”

“I’m not asking him.” She fisted her hands. “Just listen to me. Because she couldn’t manipulate Dad, your mother broke their engagement. She betrayed him with your father. Dad never saw her until after your father died. Though he still cared about her he offered to help. That’s all.” She opened the door. “Just leave.”

“Why did you really come here?”

“I told you and I’m not repeating myself.”

He stepped into the hall. “Do you seduce every chef or owner before you decide to do a feature?”

Anger boiled to the surface. Though she wanted to slug him she kept her hands firmly fisted. “That doesn’t deserve an answer. Get out before I say things I regret.”

The moment he cleared the doorway she slammed it shut and slid the bolt into place. Anger clashed with a sense of loss. For a few days she had hoped. His accusations sliced like a knife carving a roast. She dashed tears from her eyes and gulped deep calming breaths. Time to cut her losses and return to the city.

Losses?
What was she thinking? She’d had a narrow escape from what could have been a disaster. She’d had a short fling with a sexy man who had turned out to be a jerk. Deep inside she’d hoped for more but hope had charred to ashes. There was no way to change what had happened. The desire to prove him wrong simmered. She would find a way.

In a rush she packed her things and checked to see the balcony doors were locked. She hurried past the doorman, wheeled her luggage to the car and tore out of the parking lot. As she crossed the GW Bridge she remembered she still had two reservations at Five Cuisines.

Tough.
She wouldn’t cancel. Let the empty tables be seen as a mockery. Maybe Greg and his mother would worry that she would trash the restaurant. Would serve them right.

* * *

Greg retreated to his apartment. Why had she been so angry? So he’d asked her the questions nagging him since the scene at Five Cuisines with his mother. He’d been the one she’d spied on. He’d been ripe for an attractive, responsive woman. They’d connected, had terrific sex. He’d hoped for a deeper bond. What a foolish idea.

He stripped and turned on the shower. The heap of clothes reminded him of last night’s love-making. He yawned. Exhaustion slid over him like a rubber glove. After showering he gathered all the towels and dropped them in the hamper. He pulled on fresh briefs. At the bedroom door he paused. The rumpled covers surely retained the scents of passion. Silk scarves dangled from the headboard. He grabbed his robe, a spare pillow and a plush throw. Rather than change the bed he opted for a night on the couch.