Tempting Donovan Ford (15 page)

“I know he would. That’s not my concern.”

“Then what is your concern?” Julia didn’t realize she’d leaned closer until she felt the heat from Donovan’s body wash over hers. She swallowed.

“Owen is...excitable. He jumps in with both feet and he’s ready and willing to do whatever it takes.”

“Uh, those sound like good things,” Julia pointed out. She didn’t point out that Donovan’s thigh had shifted and was now pressing against hers.

“They are. Until the next new, exciting thing comes along.” Donovan blew out a breath. “Then he’d be off chasing that butterfly. I can’t guarantee that he’d be reliable. He might get invited on a safari or a cruise to Alaska and just like that—” Donovan snapped his fingers “—Owen would be gone.”

“Are you sure we’re talking about the same Owen? Tall? Dark hair? Lives at Elephants?”

“You don’t really know him.”

“No.” She drew the word out. But everything she’d seen of Owen said he wasn’t the type to leave her, or anyone, high and dry. Maybe he’d been that guy in the past, but people could change. “Or maybe you don’t know him anymore.”

Donovan shrugged. “I probably don’t. But I know the way he was, and past behavior is a good indicator of future behavior.” He closed his eyes for a moment. “Owen is my brother, and even though he can drive me insane, I do love the guy. But—” he opened his eyes and looked at her “—I don’t know if I can trust him.”

Julia saw the guilt wash over his face. A flash of emotion and then it was gone, replaced by his usual calm bearing. She reached out to him. She didn’t think about it, wonder how it might be perceived or whether it was a bad idea. She just thought he needed support and she was willing to give it. Her hand landed on his, curled through his fingers. “That’s a pretty serious statement.”

Donovan’s fingers curled around hers. “It is. But I have to be honest with you. Owen and I have never seen eye to eye. Not even when we were little.”

“That’s a lot of years to overcome.”

“Yep.” He didn’t explain and Julia didn’t ask him to.

“I guess it’s part of being brothers.” She couldn’t fully understand, being an only child, but she thought she could imagine what it might be like. “But don’t let that relationship drift away. He’s your only brother.”

Julia would have loved to have a sibling. She couldn’t remember not wanting one, always begging her mother for a little sister because boys were gross. But Suzanne would only laugh and say not right now.

She thought about it again now. Wondering if dealing with her mother’s death might have been easier if she hadn’t been alone. “Not everyone is lucky enough to have one.”

“You can have him.”

“Donovan.”

His quick smile faded. “I know. I just... It’s hard. I don’t like thinking of you looking at our relationship and judging me lacking.”

“I’m not judging you. I like Owen. And I like you.” His fingers tangled with hers. She felt her heart give a long, slow thump. A beat that filled her entire body. “It seems to me that you should like each other.”

“I knew you liked me.”

“Okay, that was so not the point.” Not the point at all.

“Oh, I think it was.” And when he bent his head toward her again, it took every ounce of willpower she had to turn the other cheek.

CHAPTER EIGHT

J
ULIA’S INSIDES WERE
all knotted up, had been that way since she’d nearly kissed Donovan at Elephants last week. Which really would have been a mistake. Owen had been there, and Sasha, who would never have let her hear the end of it.

Although Sasha wasn’t letting her hear the end of it anyway.

“Why don’t you just admit you’re attracted to him?” Sasha asked from the driver’s seat. It was Saturday morning and they were on their way to Bounty of Whistler for the weekend. They had a private dinner scheduled tonight, where festivalgoers had to purchase special tickets to participate. Julia had been pleased that the event had sold out. Tomorrow, they’d be in one of the booths in the convention center, serving up food to the masses.

“What does that have to do with anything?” Julia’s eyes tracked to Donovan’s car, grateful that she’d declined both his invitation to ride with him and for her and Sasha to stay at his family cabin. Much safer to stay in a hotel.

Sasha looked at her as if she was crazy. “Because you want to do him, and maybe if you did, you wouldn’t look so tense.”

“Eyes on the road,” she told Sasha. “And I’m not tense.” But even as she said it, Julia felt her shoulders rise up.

Sasha turned her attention back to the road, but she didn’t let the subject drop. “So this pinched look around your mouth is the latest fashion?”

Julia forced her mouth to relax. “I’m not tense.” Or no more tense than any other head chef who was trying to find a way to buy her restaurant from the current owners. It was hard, Julia noted, liking the people she worked for and yet wanting them to fail.

Although that wasn’t exactly true. She didn’t want them or the restaurant to fail—she just wanted them to sell to her. Which wouldn’t happen unless the space failed.

A bit of a problem, really, since that would also reflect poorly on her. It had been easy to explain to potential investors that the reason La Petite Bouchée wasn’t already a huge success was because it needed refreshing. Not quite a face-lift but some Botox. A touch-up on decor that brightened and lifted, an updated menu and a proper launch to let the foodie community know that La Petite Bouchée was back and better than ever.

Which was exactly what the Fords had planned. And she didn’t see it failing.

“You know what gets rid of tension?”

“Don’t start.”

“Too late.” Sasha gave a merry laugh. “And it’s well past time that you got some. Don’t make me bring up your dry streak.”

“A streak I’m on by choice.”

Sasha sent her a pitying glance. “Oh, honey. No one goes on a streak this long by choice.”

“It hasn’t been that long.” Julia glanced at Donovan’s car again. It had been only, what? Four months? Six?

“Just over a year,” Sasha announced. “With that guy you picked up after we got drunk in Seattle.”

Had it really been that long? A year? Julia opened her mouth to argue, until she realized Sasha was right. Good God. Twelve months? “I don’t know why you’re keeping track of my sex life.”

“Someone has to look out for you.” Sasha nodded as if it was her duty as a best friend. “Which means it’s high time to get back on that horse, if you will. And Donovan Ford appears to be quite the stallion.”

“Sasha,” Julia hissed, even though there was no one around to hear them. “Stop.”

“I think you should do him tonight.”

Julia didn’t answer. Instead, she looked out the window at the gorgeous view provided by the Sea to Sky Highway that ran from Vancouver up to Whistler. The road was carved into the mountain while the ocean brushed up on the opposite side of the road. Beautiful and deadly.

“Seriously, Julia, it’s perfect. You’re out of town at a beautiful resort. What better time to make your move?”

“I’m not making a move. I told you that. I don’t have time for dating.”

“Who said anything about dating him? Just ride him like the good little cowgirl I know you want to be.”

Julia tried not to laugh. “I am not a cowgirl and I don’t plan to ride anything.” But she couldn’t deny the vivid image that popped into her head. Straddling Donovan, her hands on his chest, his on her hips as she rocked back and forth on top of him. She shifted in her seat. “Can we talk about something else?” Anything else.

“No. Not until you agree I’m right.”

Julia refused to do so, but she couldn’t get Sasha’s words out of her mind, either. Not even after they’d arrived, checked into the hotel and then headed to the restaurant where they were taking over the kitchen for a private dinner tonight. Those local restaurants that weren’t participating themselves rented out their spaces to chefs and owners who were.

It would be only for tonight. A taste. Just enough so that she could stop wondering and get back to focusing on what mattered—her career and finding a way to buy La Petite Bouchée for herself.

But thinking about Donovan, under her, on top of her, beside her, made her feel overly warm, as if her chef coat was too tight. She left the top buttons open while she prepped in the borrowed kitchen.

Julia had brought along half her team. Since they were doing only one service tonight, they didn’t need everyone, but she did need her best. Tonight was a showcase. Most ticket holders would be from Vancouver, and a good meal was one they would talk about with their friends, creating buzz so when La Petite Bouchée had the grand reopening, there would already be demand.

Which was exactly what she should be focused on.

Julia kept busy in the kitchen, checking and tasting and doing it again until she was certain she hadn’t overlooked anything. Her shoulders felt tight and she rolled them back and forth before she called for plating.

She’d peeked out a few minutes ago and seen Donovan working the crowd, making sure everyone had wine and chatting up the fixed menu they were serving tonight. Julia would go out with each course to talk about the food and spend a little time with people she hoped would become future regulars. Since Whistler was only two hours away from Vancouver, it was a regular destination for many city dwellers. More than a few were at the festival and had bought tickets to their dinner tonight.

Her heart skipped a beat as she checked every plate for consistency and beauty before allowing the servers to carry them out. Tonight was a big deal. A chance to make or break her reputation since most people here hadn’t been to La Petite Bouchée during her tenure—or if she were honest, probably at all, since the restaurant had fallen off the foodie landscape more than a decade ago.

Julia followed a short distance behind the servers, a smile on her face, as though she hadn’t just spent hours slaving over every detail, throwing something out when it didn’t work and starting again.

“Ladies and gentlemen.” Donovan’s low voice carried through the room, drawing every eye. Even hers. Julia clasped her hands in front of her and hoped they wouldn’t shake. It wasn’t that she was nervous. It just felt as if this was a marquee moment in her career, a turning point. She felt her nerves run higher when Donovan moved to stand beside her, turning a smile in her direction. “I’d like to introduce the amazing chef at La Petite Bouchée, Julia Laurent.” There was a polite round of applause.

Why did her knees feel as if they wouldn’t hold her up? She’d worked the front of the house plenty of times. She loved to talk about her food. She was good at this. She felt the steady press of Donovan’s hand on her lower back and her nerves eased.

“Good evening.” She leaned back just slightly, making sure not to lose that comforting connection as she launched into her spiel about the first course. She probably shouldn’t take so much solace, so much confidence, from the simple feel of his hand on her waist. But she did. He curved his hand over her hip and gave it a reassuring squeeze before she returned to the kitchen.

He did. And during courses three and four, as well. Julia’s entire body was tingling when she returned to the dining room for the final time that night, accepting accolades, good wishes and questions about when La Petite Bouchée would reopen.

“You’re a hit,” Donovan murmured in her ear, which did nothing to stop the tingling or the flash of Sasha’s words through her head.
Who said anything about dating, cowgirl?

Julia did her best to ignore it. “
We’re
a hit.” She might be the one who’d created the menu and perfected the dishes, but he’d been the one to set up the event and warm up the crowd.

A slow smile spread across his face. One that sent a shiver all the way to her toes. “Shall I pop some champagne to properly celebrate?”

“No, thank you. I need to oversee cleanup and...” And then she would return to the room she was sharing with Sasha and go to sleep so she was rested for her demos at the booth tomorrow. Fun, fun, fun.

“I can wait,” Donovan said, and Julia wasn’t sure if he was talking about tonight or something further in the future.

“Go,” she told him, putting a hand on his arm to nudge him along. Big mistake. Even that minimal contact through layers of fabric created a burst of attraction. “We’ll have that champagne when we reopen.” When there were other people around and they weren’t staying in a romantic mountain-resort village.

But Donovan didn’t move. “You sure?” His gaze warmed her, as if she needed any help after having just spent the past eight hours in the kitchen.

She gave him a firm nod and hoped he couldn’t see her indecision.

He might not have, since he left after congratulating the staff on a job well done, but Sasha homed in on it like a hummingbird to sugar water.

“Oh, you are not coming back to the hotel with me.”

“Of course I am.” Julia concentrated on cleaning her knives, making sure there was no sign of the ingredients they’d diced, minced and chopped earlier this evening.

“Did you see the way he was looking at you?” Julia glanced up to find Sasha fanning herself. “I thought I’d accidentally left some burners on.”

“You’re imagining things.” But Julia had noticed, too. She refused to fan herself, knowing it would only encourage Sasha.

“No, I’m not. Ask anyone—we all saw it.” But when she opened her mouth to call for confirmation, Julia stopped her with a hand.

“Don’t.”

Sasha’s eyebrows shot up. “Aha. Then you admit I’m right.”

“Even a stopped clock,” Julia countered, and slid her blades into her knife roll. “He invited me for champagne.”

“And you declined?” When Julia nodded, Sasha released a long-suffering sigh. “Fine. I guess I’ll have to take one for the team and go in your stead. Hair up or down?”

“You’re not going.” Julia knew Sasha was only teasing and yet she felt irritated, edgy, thinking of Sasha—or any woman—drinking champagne with Donovan.

“Then you are.”

Julia didn’t answer right away. She should have.

Sasha leaped on the opening like a starving person at an all-you-can-eat buffet. “Excellent. It’s decided. You’ll go have champagne with the hottie and I’ll pretend not to notice when you don’t come back to the hotel tonight.”