Her New Boss: A Rouge Erotic Romance (20 page)

Zoe chuckled. ‘I would’ve liked your mom.’

‘Well, these are all her recipes, passed down my family line. If you want to learn, you best watch because I’m sworn to silence on them. Only my daughters will be told the secrets.’

Zoe smiled, up to the challenge of figuring it out. ‘Got an extra apron?’

‘Twenty-seven missed calls.’ Zoe frowned, reading her cell phone as she walked from the restaurant back to the bed and breakfast. The first twenty numbers belonged to Kat and the last seven belonged to her mother.

Cooking all day with Constance had been a crash course in Southern cuisine. Though the woman had stayed true to her oath and hadn’t revealed any family recipes, she’d been more than willing to share local ones. She’d gotten so busy learning, she’d forgotten all about calling her sister. Dialing voice mail, she put the phone to her ear.

‘Hi Zoe, did you get my box? Just checking in,’ Kat’s first message said.

‘Hey, Zoe, I’ve been trying to get you all day. Where are you? Call me.’ The second message from Kat was a little more insistent.

Kat sounded frantic by the third. ‘Zoe? Seriously, it’s been two days. Where are you? I’m starting to worry. All these backwoods murder scenarios are going through my head. I need you to call me.’

Number four was simply, ‘Don’t make me fly down there, Zoe.’

The last message was from her mother, Beatrice. ‘Zoe, honey, this is your mother. Kat’s worried about you, but I did a reading and know you’re fine. Make sure you call her. It’s not good for new mothers to worry. Oh, and by the way, how is your weekend going? I see here it’s going to be a
really
telling one.’ Zoe grimaced, knowing her mother had been looking at an empty teacup as she’d spoken. The knowing tone made her shiver, though Zoe was used to her mother’s purported premonitions and cryptic comments. ‘Do tell me about him when you call me back and don’t worry, I won’t say a word until you do. I’ll talk to you later, honey.’

To anyone else, the message would have sounded dead-on like some sort of love-life fortune reading. But Zoe knew her mother kept it just vague enough to be read into – or at least that’s the conclusion she and her sisters had come to. Though there were times when Zoe wondered.

Not wanting to worry her sister, she hit the speed dial and called. Getting Kat’s voice mail, she left a quick message telling her sister she was all right and hadn’t called because she’d been without her phone. Flipping it closed, she walked several steps before opening it again. Zoe pushed a few buttons, looked at her mother’s name, shut the phone, felt guilty and then opened it once more to call her.

‘Hi, honey!’ her mother said, sounding like her normally enthusiastic self. Very unconventional, Beatrice Matthews had always marched to her own peculiar tune. Yet there was something about her that drew others in. She could find someone to talk to no matter where she was and she’d learn their entire life story in one setting. ‘I’m so glad you called, though you’re a little late. Everyone just left.’

Zoe had completely forgotten that today was Sunday, the day her family always got together at their parents’ house.

‘Well, almost everyone. Ella is home. I think something is wrong with her, but she won’t talk. I don’t know if the navy is working out for her. She went out with some friends this evening.’ Beatrice paused.

Zoe took the opportunity to get in, ‘Hi, Mom.’

‘Hi, honey,’ Beatrice said. ‘Did you call your sister? She’s really worried.’

‘Yes, but she didn’t answer. I left her a message. I’m fine, everything’s fine –’

‘I know, honey, I –’

‘Ah, Mom,’ Zoe groaned. ‘I’m tired. Please don’t.’

‘Tired?’ Beatrice asked. Her tone became higher-pitched. ‘Any reason?’

‘I’ve been cooking.’ It wasn’t a lie, just not the whole truth. But there was no way she was telling her mom about her torrid weekend at a Southern plantation. Whenever she got back to New York, the entire city would know about what she’d done with Jackson.

‘You know, your father would really enjoy going to South Carolina. He’s heard there’s fishing there. Any chance there’d be a reason for us to come down and visit you?’

Knowing her mother was probing, Zoe sighed. After so many girls, their parents had given up on ever having sons – though they remained hopeful for five sons-in-law. With Kat and Megan’s marriages, plus the recent birth of Mariah, it stood to reason that their parents should have been content. But it wasn’t so. Her father, Douglas, was a retired English professor, as serious as his wife was flighty. He’d worked at several private schools, most prestigiously Harvard. He never overtly said anything about sons-in-law, but left the prodding to his wife.

‘Um, not really,’ Zoe said, hiding her laugh as she gave her mother an answer she wouldn’t want to hear. At the very least, Beatrice would have expected her to say something along the lines of, ‘You never need a reason to visit me, Mom.’ And Zoe would have, too, if she hadn’t known her mother would be on a flight down the very next morning with even such little prompting.

Clearly disappointed, Beatrice’s tone fell. ‘Hmm, all right, have your mystery for now.’

‘I have to go, Mom,’ Zoe lied. Marta was sitting on the porch, sipping a cup of tea, her hawk eyes staring at Zoe as she neared the front sidewalk leading up to the house.

‘I love you, honey,’ Beatrice said.

‘I love you, too,’ Zoe answered, and flipped her phone to end the call. Glancing at Marta, she mustered a smile. ‘Hello.’

‘Talking to your boyfriend?’ the woman asked, rocking back slightly on her chair as she held her teacup in front of her chin.

Zoe gave a short laugh, not feeling any humor, especially when she thought about the woman going through her box from Kat. ‘Goodnight, Marta.’

‘Goodnight, dear.’ The woman continued rocking.

Zoe went inside to hide out the rest of the evening in her room. With any luck, her racing mind would shut off long enough to help her sleep.

Zoe started her second week as
Renée’s
new chef with a renewed sense of purpose. Instead of foisting her ‘city girl’ fine dining on the country folk, she was going to give them what they were used to – only better. With Constance’s words in her head, she planned her menu as she prepped for the day. As she’d promised, the weekend cook had left a recipe book of Southern classics on the back desk for Zoe to look over. Monday would have to be trout, because that’s what she had in the walk-in fridge. Luckily, though, the grocery would bring whatever else she needed for the rest of the week.

She decided on trout with a simple butter and garlic seasoning, breaded with cornmeal and sautéed to flaky
perfection
, homemade garlic mashed potatoes and green beans with bacon and sea salt for flavour. By the time Sheryl arrived, she had breakfast prepped and lunch well on the way. The waitress snorted a greeting, saying nothing as she went about her work. Monday breakfast wasn’t too busy – mostly coffee drinkers ordering pancakes and eggs with the occasional toast. Every time the front door bell rang, Zoe found herself looking to see if it was Jackson. She didn’t expect him, had no reason to, but after their weekend together she had strange fantasies of him stopping by, of him sending flowers, of calling – something – but got nothing.

Mid-afternoon, she called an order in for the rest of the week. Lunch and then dinner rolled by, not terribly busy but with some special orders of her trout. She gave generous portions to get rid of all the fish in stock. As the last customer left, taking Sheryl with him, she stayed alone in her kitchen spending extra time cleaning, hoping Jackson would show. As she took trash out to the dumpster, she searched the alleyway for his truck, hoping he’d offer to help so she didn’t have to go near where the snake had been. He didn’t and she was forced to face the fear, kicking her feet to make noise as she ran to the bin, threw in the trash, and ran back to the kitchen.

Finally, unable to make excuses to wait any longer, she locked up and made the trek back to the bed and breakfast. Almost hating how pathetic she was being, she found herself watching the street for headlights. A few teenagers rolled by, their music as loud as their laughter. One of the boys yelled to her, his words lost in the fast whiz of the passing engine.

Three days and still he resisted going to see her.

Jackson tilted his beer, taking a long pull from the bottle
as
he stared at his backyard. Everywhere he went in his house, he imagined Zoe. Fantasies of her danced in his head, teasing his senses and making his cock fill with hard desire. Distraction caused him to zone out during important meetings. Desire made him scream into his pillow in frustration, even as he tried to work a release out for himself. And something he couldn’t quite describe curled inside him, making him fear what Marta had told him, making him desperate to see Zoe and terrified that he would go to her.

That was something he shouldn’t do. Each time he looked at her, he felt himself closer to saying something he would only come to regret. Thinking of it, his hand shook and he balled it into a fist, while continuing to grip his beer with the other one. He couldn’t face her just yet, not until he knew he could control what he would say to her.

His eyes drifted to the folder in front of him. Inside was an article that had been faxed to him the night before by the editor-in-chief of the premier culinary magazine
Chef d’oeuvre
. The article called Chef Matthews a culinary diamond – but it wasn’t finished. They wanted a quote from him about her cooking, why he had hired her, why he hadn’t told anyone he was doing it. The author of the article, Josine Gray, referred to Zoe as his secret up-and-comer. Her list of questions for him speculated that he had big plans for his little diamond.

If it had been anyone else, such news would have made him proud because he had discovered a new talent, but Zoe? Why couldn’t he muster any happiness for her achievement? She’d earnt it with her cooking, all on her own and in less than a week. Perhaps all she’d needed was a shot, her chance, and he’d given it to her. All her dreams were starting to come true, with that article right there in its
blank
folder – if he just gave Josine the right answers.

Jackson took another drink, finishing his beer, hating the part of him that wanted to say that what Josine had eaten was a fluke; Zoe was only a diner cook, a nobody going nowhere. No one would question his word. The article would go away. Zoe would never know and then she couldn’t leave Dabery, not yet, not until he was ready to let her go.

Jackson closed his eyes, leaning his head back in his chair as the warm night air whispered around his features. The insects seemed too quiet, especially for such a fine evening. He wouldn’t go and see her tonight.

Zoe sighed. The third week was half over and though she spent her days in a building with an endless stream of people, she had never felt so alone. Taking Jackson’s advice, she tried to smile at everyone through the pick-up window. It worked because a few smiled back. None made conversation and Sheryl didn’t count because nothing she said was much better than a curse. Travis tried, but he was just a kid and they had no common ground on which to converse.

Where was Jackson? Why hadn’t he come? Why hadn’t he called? A week and a half had passed since he had contacted her. A week and a half since the weekend they’d shared.

She hit her hand against the table, gripping the chicken bones. She’d prepared a broth to make chicken and dumplings for Thursday’s special. She’d boiled them all day, making them easier to debone. She took the meat and threw it into the big stockpot.

Fuck him. She didn’t need to see him anyway, not if he was going to treat her like some whore who he screwed
and
then discarded until he was horny again. With venom, she threw one bone into the trash and grabbed another piece to tear at it in frustration.

But did she have a right to be mad? It wasn’t like she’d demanded a relationship, demanded he’d treat her like a girlfriend or even a lady. She’d gone to him eagerly, desperate to touch him, to have him inside her. The memory of his touch made her body ache. Her nipples swelled against her tight undershirt with the built-in bra, and her pussy nearly wept with cream at the thought of being filled. Even now, she could remember his smell, the taste of his wine-tinted kiss.

‘I need you to cook for me.’

Zoe nearly screamed with fright at the demanding words. She would have recognized his voice anywhere, even hoarse as it was now. Turning, she placed her hand over her heart to glare at Jackson’s face through the pick-up window. Unable to answer right away, she turned back to finish deboning the chicken. The metal door swung open.

‘Kitchen’s closed. Try coming back during business hours,’ she answered, scooping up the last of the meat and throwing it into the pot using a little too much force. Liquid splashed out of the side, running onto the table. With a brush of her hand, she swept the bones into the trash can.

‘Are you upset?’ he asked, sounding surprised.

‘No, of course not,’ she lied. Zoe told herself not to tell him, to play it cool like Kat would, to be confident like Megan. She failed. ‘I often spend an entire weekend fucking someone only to be ignored for weeks afterwards.’

‘I’m sorry?’ His words weren’t an apology so much as a request for clarification.

‘Yes, you are,’ she mumbled, her temper beginning to
flare
. At least when she’d got pissed at Contiello, he hadn’t acted surprised. He’d known he’d been an asshole and deserved her rage. Jackson had the gall to stand there with a stunned look of shock on his handsome face.

‘Did I miss something?’ He glanced around, as if that would help answer his question.

Zoe picked up the pot, struggling under its heavy weight as she carried it to the stove. She hadn’t planned on heating it back up tonight, but the task gave her something to do with her hands, gave her a way to channel her frustration so she didn’t turn the full force of it on him. ‘I guess not,’ she answered sarcastically.

‘Will you stop for a moment and talk to me?’ he asked.