Menu for Romance (8 page)

She had no delusions that her parents would seek her advice or input on something like asking Major to appear on TV weekly, adding to his already overloaded schedule. But they could have at least informed her of their decision ahead of time so she didn’t come across looking like such a complete imbecile in front of Major.

“Oh, for mercy’s sake!” She smacked the edge of her keyboard with the heels of her hands when she misspelled the seafood vendor’s name a sixth time.

“Everything okay, Meredith?” Corie, her administrative assistant, hesitated in the doorway, a thick folder in her hands.

“Just frustrated with myself.” Meredith turned away from the computer and reached for the bottle of soda that usually sat next to her phone—but she hadn’t replenished her stock yesterday. “What’s up?”

Corie crossed the office and extended the folder. “I finished the spreadsheet and e-mailed it to you. Here’s all the receipts and invoices.”

“Does that include everything from catering?” Meredith took the file and set it on her desk without looking at it. Though just seven months out of college, Corie was the most efficient and organized assistant Meredith had ever had.

“Yes. Major got everything to me this morning.”

“And the payroll report?”

“Included.”

“Really? I was expecting to have to get on the phone with HR this afternoon and pull rank to get the information from them before deadline.” Finally, something was going right today.

Corie filled her in on everything she’d done to get the report finished before the end of the day so Meredith could take it home to work on over the weekend.

“Good job. I owe you lunch big-time.” Meredith glanced at the clock. “It’s four o’clock. All I have left is to finish the memo, so if you don’t have anything else you need to do today, why don’t you go ahead and knock off early.”

“Thanks, boss!” Corie bounced out of the office.

Once more, Meredith reached for the soda bottle, only to find empty air. “Good grief.” She dug into her purse and pulled out a handful of coins.

“Did I miss something?” Corie asked when Meredith came out of the office.

“Nope. I just need a Coke.”

“I can go get it for you.” The assistant put her tote down on her desk.

“That’s sweet. But you go on home. I’m perfectly capable of going down to the shop and getting a drink.” No way was Meredith going to become one of those spoiled executives whose assistant did nothing but get her coffee, pick up her dry cleaning, and answer her phone—like her mother’s executive assistant.

“I’ll walk down with you.”

On the five-flight trek down the stairs, at Meredith’s inquiry, Corie talked about her plans for the weekend, which included a trip to Baton Rouge for a concert of some band Meredith had never heard of. Once they reached the first floor, Meredith bade the girl farewell and crossed the large, atrium-style lobby to the coffee shop– newsstand–convenience store.

“Afternoon, Miss Guidry.”

She greeted the cashier and made a beeline for the refrigerated cases at the back of the small shop. She vacillated between ginger ale and root beer and finally chose Cherry Coke instead, figuring the caffeine would help with the dull headache she’d been trying to ignore all day. Plus, she wasn’t sure how late she’d be out tonight, so the boost might be helpful.

She paid and headed back toward the bank of elevators—but was diverted when she saw one of her building maintenance managers and a couple of his guys at the security desk. When she joined them, the manager explained that several complaints had been made about trip-and-fall accidents on the twelfth floor near where new tenants were remodeling their office space.

Meredith tucked the information away to ask about in the facilities staff meeting on Monday if the manager forgot to mention it.

Back in her office, fortified with caffeine and sugar, Meredith returned to the report, recapping everything that happened from planning through execution of the New Year’s Eve gala. Finally, at a quarter of five, she e-mailed the memo and spreadsheet to herself at home, then stuffed the folder of receipts and invoices into her bag.

She switched over to her e-mail program ... and groaned. More than a hundred unread e-mails just since lunchtime. She scanned the subject lines. Nothing vitally important that couldn’t wait until Monday. She shut down the computer and reached for the phone.

As she took a long swig of soda while listening to her twelve new voicemail messages, her eye caught on the garment bag hanging from the coat hook on the back of the door. Her stomach gave a little flip. In half an hour, Ward Breaux would arrive to take her on a date. A
date.

She wrote down the messages on the page for Monday in her planner. Finished with those, she scanned the sticky notes scattered around her desk and stuck to the sides of her computer monitor. Half of them referenced completed projects, so she threw them away. The rest she stuck to the appropriate pages in her planner to deal with next week.

The phone rang, and she picked it up without looking at the caller ID window. “Events and Facilities Management. This is Meredith Guidry.”

“Well, hello there, Meredith Guidry.” Ward Breaux’s voice sent goosebumps racing down Meredith’s arms. “I just wanted to give you a heads-up that I left my job site earlier than I thought, so I’m probably going to be there about ten or fifteen minutes early. I hope that doesn’t mess up your schedule.”

She glanced at her watch. “No, I was just wrapping things up, as a matter of fact.”

“Great. I’ll see you in a few minutes then.”

As soon as she hung up, Meredith jumped up from her desk and closed her door so she could change clothes. The dress was something Anne had talked her into buying a couple of years ago, and it had hung in Meredith’s closet ever since. The chocolate brown matte-silk sheath topped with a three-quarter sleeve bolero had a very 1940s vibe to it, which was the only reason she’d been cajoled into buying it. Her round-toed brown pumps had a similar retro feel to them. She hoped she didn’t look like she was wearing a costume.

Hanging the gray tweed suit in the garment bag, Meredith slipped into the marble and cherry powder room that connected her office with her mother’s. She added a little makeup—but didn’t go for the full war paint that she wore for formal events—and let her hair down from the clip she’d pulled it back with at the height of her frustration this afternoon.

The intercom on her phone buzzed. She jogged over to grab the receiver.

“Miss Guidry, there’s a Ward Breaux here to see you.”

“Yes, thank you. I’ll be out in a moment.”

Heart trying to make a jailbreak through her rib cage, she grabbed the small purse she’d tucked into her larger bag that morning, draped her burgundy wool car coat over her arm, and left the security of her office.

Most of the lights were out except for in the main hallway and the reception area, which the girls were getting ready to close down. Standing with his hands clasped behind his back, engrossed in the images of all the Boudreaux-Guidry properties mounted on the wall, was Ward Breaux. His charcoal overcoat made him look even larger than she remembered, and instead of the jeans and boots she’d seen him in before, dark pants and shiny black shoes showed beneath the hem of the coat.

She stopped, stomach knotted, and nearly turned tail and ran back to her office. No. She could do this. She
needed
to do this.

“Ward.” Could she have sounded more breathless? She moved forward and extended her right hand. “It’s good to see you again.”

“Meredith.” His grin was somewhat lopsided. She hadn’t noticed that before. His large hand wrapped around hers, not in a businesslike handshake, but as if he were going to raise it to kiss the back of it. “When I met you, I thought you were beautiful. But I was wrong. You’re gorgeous.”

Her toes curled in their cramped confines. Heat prickled her face, knowing the two receptionists were gawking at them. “Thanks.”

“Ready to go?” He turned and swept his arm toward the main doors.

“Yes.” She allowed him to take her coat and assist her into it, and her breathing hitched when he settled his hand in the middle of her back to walk her to the door. Deep smile lines appeared in his cheeks when she looked up at him.

The front door swung open before they got to it. Meredith stopped, mortified.

Of anyone who could possibly walk through those doors at five twenty on a Friday evening, why, oh why, did it have to be Major O’Hara?

Major stopped and did a double take of the couple standing in front of him. Some guy had his arm around Meredith—who looked absolutely stunning. Something hot and sticky and ... and ... green oozed through every piece of Major’s being.

She had the decency to blush almost as dark red as her coat. “Major? Did you need something?”

The temptation to hide the Styrofoam box behind his back and make up some other excuse for his presence made his hand start to shake. How could he have forgotten she’d mentioned she had plans tonight?

“I—one of the sauté chefs didn’t show up, so we got into the weeds this afternoon, and I forgot...” He held up the box. “I forgot to bring you a dinner box.”

“Oh.” An expression that looked quite close to pity flickered across Meredith’s face. She glanced at her companion then back at Major. “It’ll keep till Monday, won’t it?”

He was the biggest idiot in the world. “Yeah ... yes, it should. I’ll put it in the fridge in the executive kitchen just to make sure it stays cold enough.”

“Thanks. I have so many meetings on Monday, it’ll be nice to know I don’t have to worry about scrounging up lunch.” She twisted the shoulder strap of her briefcase with her left hand.

When Meredith again glanced at the man beside her, Major turned his attention in that direction as well. Because he was six foot one, not many men made Major feel short—but this guy did. He towered over Meredith, even in her high heels, by almost a foot.

“I’m sorry. I should have introduced you. Major, this is Ward Breaux. Ward—Major O’Hara, B-G’s executive chef.”

The curly-haired giant didn’t even have the decency to take his left arm from around Meredith when he shook Major’s hand.

“So, how do you two know each other?” Major cringed, but the words were out of his mouth before he could stop them.

“I had the very good fortune of running into Meredith at the hardware store on New Year’s Day. I knew it must be fate—how often does a guy run into a gorgeous lady like this buying wood epoxy on a holiday?” Breaux smiled down at Meredith with a proprietary gleam in his dark eyes.

Molten heat roiled in Major’s stomach. “Really?”

Meredith cleared her throat. “Ward is a contractor. He’s going to give me a bid for finishing the work on my house.”

“Oh.” That didn’t explain why Meredith was wearing a silk dress and looking like a movie star.

“Yes—but I do have to admit, I’m much more interested in the
owner
of the house right now.” The interloper glanced at his watch—and returned his arm around Meredith’s waist. “If we’re going to make our six o’clock reservations, we should go.”

“I’ll put this away for you.” Major wanted to draw her into his arms and show his previous claim but settled for giving her the warmest smile he could muster. “I’ll see you Monday.”

“Bye.”

He turned when he reached the executive dining room, hoping to see Meredith watching him with longing in her gaze. But she and Breaux were already disappearing through the frosted-glass doors.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid,” he mumbled, making his way through the dining room by the dim light from the cityscape beyond the windows. In the kitchen, he felt his way along in the dark until he found the handle on the door of the reach-in refrigerator.

The reception lobby was dark when he came out, and he had to unlock the doors to exit. He fished his keys out of his pocket and locked up before heading toward the elevators. They took too long, so he opted for the stairs instead.

He should have been happy for Meredith finding time to date, having a social life, allowing room for romance in her busy schedule. But seeing her with another man only made Major want to make her part of his life all the more.

Who was he kidding? He’d seen the amount of work she was taking home with her to do this weekend. If he had the added pressure of getting a restaurant started, not only would his social life become nearly nonexistent, but what little personal time he might have would need to be spent with Ma. He had to let go of Meredith.

Knowing his brain wasn’t going to easily let go of the image of Meredith with the Jolly Green Giant, he pointed Kirby toward Beausoleil Pointe Center.

The receptionists greeted him by name at the front desk, and many of the residents did the same as he made his way to Ma’s apartment. When she didn’t answer the door, he walked down the hall to the common room.

“Major, what are you doing here?” Ma looked up from her hand of cards when he approached her table.

“I came to see you.”

“Today isn’t your regular day to come. I’m busy. You’ll have to come back another day.”

After all these years, his mother telling him to go away shouldn’t have stung like it did. But after being rejected by Meredith a little while ago, albeit in a roundabout fashion, it hurt that the person he was giving Meredith up for didn’t want to see him either.

“Fine. You know how to reach me if you change your mind.”

He trudged back out to the Jeep and squealed the tires a bit pulling out of the parking lot. If he were already running a restaurant, he’d be there on a Friday night and not worrying about how the two women in his life didn’t want him. He also wouldn’t have to face the fact that he’d done such a good job of keeping everyone out of his personal affairs that he found himself in this situation.

Would it really be so terrible if Meredith knew about Ma?

Major’s mind went back to the last time his mother had a real, full-blown schizophrenic episode. He shuddered. Yes, it really would be so terrible if Meredith had to witness that. Just like the few other women he’d dated, if she found out, she would look at him in disgust, wondering when that was going to happen to him—and then hightail it out of there. And he wouldn’t blame her. There were times he wished he could do the same.

He stopped at the international market on the way home and picked up a bunch of random, interesting ingredients. Back at the condo, he put
The Fighting Seabees
DVD on and started cooking—thinking about and planning for what he might put on the menu of his restaurant.

The opportunity offered by the Guidrys looked more and more like the only future Major had.

“You’ve hardly touched your
cordero.
”

Meredith cut another small piece of the braised lamb. Cooked with honey, garlic, and onions, and topped with crumbled Cabrales cheese, the strong flavors burst in her mouth. But nerves kept her from enjoying it as she should.

She set her fork and knife on the edge of the plate and raised her napkin to wipe her mouth. “I think I ate too much of the tapas. Of course, they gave me enough of this”—she indicated the large lamb chop atop a mound of garlic mashed potatoes—“to feed three people.” And plenty to take a sample to Major, who always liked trying new dishes.

Her chest once again felt like it would cave in at the memory of the look on Major’s face when he’d seen her with Ward. Had she imagined the flicker of jealousy in his eyes?

Ward waved the server over and asked for a takeaway box. “And two flans for dessert with
café con leche.
” He gave Meredith a slow smile.

She couldn’t help but smile back at him, though his high-handed manner was starting to grate on her nerves a bit. Just because they were in a Spanish restaurant and he spoke the language didn’t mean she couldn’t order for herself.

Nevertheless, it was kind of charming and old-fashioned in its way. And if she were out with Major, she’d allow him to order for her. But of course, she had good reason to trust Major implicitly when it came to food.

“You were telling me about your college major,” Ward reminded her.

“Art history. I specialized in the arts and crafts movement.”

“Thus your love of the craftsman style of architecture?”

“Yes. I’ve wanted a craftsman bungalow since I was a little girl.” She grinned. “And now I have one.”

“One that isn’t livable.” His dark brows arched over gray eyes twinkling with amusement.

His flirtatiousness had made her uncomfortable at the beginning of the meal, but now she rather enjoyed the focused attention. “But you’re going to help me remedy that, aren’t you?”

“I’ll do my best.”

“I do have one request—I’d like to ask Major O’Hara to help with the kitchen design. He worked with the architects who designed the kitchens at B-G—the large one for Vue de Ceil and the smaller executive kitchen—and I’ve seen some of his ideas for his dream home kitchen that I hope to incorporate in my house.” Of course, when she’d originally come up with this idea, it had been with the thought in mind that the kitchen might one day be his, if he ever woke up and realized she was in love with him.

No. She couldn’t allow herself to think like that anymore. He’d had eight years. She couldn’t waste any more time on him.

“That’s an excellent idea. When we get to that point, I’ll be happy to work with him.” Ward looked down at his buzzing phone.

Meredith grimaced but quickly schooled her expression. While Ward hadn’t actually answered his cell phone during dinner, several times he’d looked down when it vibrated to see who was calling him. She’d have to check with Anne and Jenn, but she was under the impression that proper etiquette was to turn one’s cell phone off when out on a date. That’s why hers was currently just a deadweight in the bottom of her purse.

He glanced across at her. Some of what she was thinking must have shown in her expression.

“Sorry. I’ll turn this off. I’m such a phone addict, it’s hard for me to ignore it.” He looked up and leaned back when the server brought their desserts.

The baked custard with the burnt-sugar syrup was almost as good as Anne’s favorite dessert—crème brûlée—but not quite as good as cheesecake. She savored each bite slowly.

“If you majored in art history, how did you end up becoming a big-time corporate executive? I mean, I know it’s your parents’ company and all, but it seems like you’d have gone into some kind of design work, or maybe become curator at an art gallery.”

“I thought about that—actually, I minored in interior design as an undergrad.” She put her spoon down after about half of the rich dessert. “When I finished my master’s degree, I was ready to get out of Mom and Dad’s house, to live on my own. But the part-time job I had at the city art museum wasn’t enough to pay rent and utilities and buy groceries.”

She tried not to stare at the way Ward’s long, tapered fingers curled around his spoon. She could get used to eating out with him.

Clearing her throat, she continued. “At that time, my cousin Anne was the event planner for B-G—and the company was much smaller then with just a couple of event venues. But they’d just acquired Lafitte’s Landing, which almost doubled the amount of work Anne had to do, so she needed an assistant. And I needed a full-time job.”

“And your cousin ... she doesn’t work there anymore?”

“She started her own wedding- and event-planning business almost six years ago. As the only person left in the department, I was promoted.”

“Now you’re an executive director.” He spooned up the last bit of syrup on his plate. “And from your title, it sounds like you do a whole lot more than planning events.”

“Yeah.” Meredith let out a sardonic chuckle. “I do a lot of paperwork.”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

“It’s my job. I do what’s required of me.”
And I try to live with the fact that my parents have no respect for my title or authority.

“So the reason you bought a house that’s gutted inside is because you wanted to get back to your first love—designing?”

She shrugged. “I guess that had something to do with it. I love renovation projects. I’ve done most of the interior renovations in the triplex.”

“Triplex?”

“Where I live. About a year ago, Anne bought the old Victorian where we live—it’s split into three apartments. She and my sister Jenn and I have lived in those apartments for five or six years.” She sipped the café con leche—rich, bitter coffee tempered by scalded milk.

“You live with your cousin and your sister; you work for your parents. Do you ever get away from your family?”

“Get away from them?” She thought about the glorious hours she’d spent at her house Monday, relieved that after Anne’s and Forbes’s phone calls, everyone had left her alone. “Not very often. But I have a large family—immediate and extended—and we’re all very close to each other.”

“I’ll bet I could beat you on family size. I’m one of six.” Ward pushed his dessert plate aside and lifted the delicate china cup. It could have looked awkward in his large, calloused fingers, but he moved with grace, making it look as if he was accustomed to such finery.

“I have four brothers and three sisters.” She pursed her lips together, daring him to challenge her, ready to pull out a family photo to prove it.

“You’ve got me there. Do they all live in town?”

“Every single one.”

“Let me guess. You’re the oldest?”

“Second. I have one older brother.”

“And does he work for your parents’ company as well?”

“No. He’s a lawyer.”

“A respectable choice if he wasn’t going to go into the family business.” He swirled the liquid in his cup. “You said your sister lives with you. I guess she’s next oldest to you?”

“We don’t actually live
together
—we do have separate apartments.” Which was a good thing, given Jenn’s penchant for not picking up after herself.

“Let me guess—doctor?”

Meredith laughed at the image of Jenn dealing with sick people. “Restaurateur. She owns The Fishin’ Shack down in Comeaux.”

“I’ve heard about that place. You’ll have to take me there sometime.”

Ward continued questioning her about her family until he’d heard what each of her brothers and sisters did, about Marci’s engagement, and what Meredith knew of the plans for Anne’s wedding.

When the bill arrived, Meredith reached for her purse.

“What are you doing?” Ward asked, his thick, dark brows drawn together.

“I ... I guess I’m just used to going out with friends and having to pay my own way.”