A Convenient Scandal Read online

  “What?”

  Matt grinned. “Good, huh? My wife is teaching me Spanish. It means ‘she has the heart of a bull.’”

  “You like saying that word, don’t you?”

  Matt tipped his head. “Which one?”

  “Wife.”

  Matt had that look on his face—the “sneaking cookies and eating them in bed before Mom caught him” look. “Oh, yeah. You could enjoy saying the word, too, if you allowed yourself to find the right lady. You don’t let anyone get close, Jeff. Start putting yourself out there. Be real and you’ll find love. I swear it.”

  Jeff exhaled deeply. “Lightning doesn’t strike twice in one family. And I’m not like you. Never was. You and Julia were meant for one another, you’ve known it since you were, like, ten. Another woman like Julia doesn’t exist.”

  “You haven’t found her because you need to open up. Show her who you are without the smoke and mirrors. No stage lighting. No props. Just two real people being...normal.”

  Did he want normal? What did it even mean?

  “You could start with the lady you were making goo-goo eyes at. Along with her backbone, and pretty face, there’s something sweet about Michele Cox.”

  “That was Michele Cox from Alfieri’s? She made me one of the best chicken cacciatore dishes I’ve ever tasted. I still have daydreams about that chicken.”

  “Can I pick ’em or what?” Matt grinned and threw his arm over Jeff’s shoulder.

  “You’ve got it wrong. I’m not marrying any of these women, but I might hire Cox. I watched her on a cooking show once. Hell, she handled her kitchen with such passion, such flair. Spice and color all mixed together. I’ve never seen anything like it. She was poetry in action.”

  Matt cocked his head. “Poetry in action? Seems like you’ve thought about her a bit.”

  Had he? Sure. After seeing her on television, he’d made a point to visit her restaurant a few times. One night he’d even asked Alfieri if he could go back to the kitchen to meet the chef, but she’d left before he got a chance. The next time he’d gone in, he was told Michele had left the restaurant altogether. He’d been disappointed.

  “I see it on your face. You like her,” Matt said.

  “I’ve never met her.”

  “So now is your chance. Ask her out. I dare you.”

  Jeff shot him a dirty look. “What is this, middle school? Dares don’t work anymore. I’m not interested in searching for love. I just need a chef, and a wife who’ll satisfy Dad’s terms.”

  Matt shook his head, his voice sad. “You’ll never feel it that way.”

  “Feel what?”

  “Lightning.”

  Three

  Michele scoped out her beautiful bedroom. It had a sitting area, a desk, two televisions, two queen-size beds, Spanish tile and a balcony. The decor was tasteful and lightly Mediterranean. The room was twice as big as her bedroom at home. Heck, maybe it was bigger than her bedroom and living room combined. She opened the French doors and stepped onto the balcony.

  “Oh, hello!” The petite chef from The China Lily was sitting on the veranda. “Lovely view from here.”

  Michele looked out over the gardens below and let her gaze drift out to sea. “It’s beautiful.”

  “And overwhelming. This bedroom is almost as large as my flat in Manhattan.”

  “Mine, too.” Michele stretched out her hand. “We weren’t formally introduced. I’m Michele Cox, from—”

  “Alfieri’s.” Lily took her hand. “I know. May I say I love your lasagna? It’s the best Italian dish I’ve ever tasted.”

  “It’s my own recipe. The secret’s in the sauce.” Michele brought her finger to her lips. “And your dim sum is to die for.”

  “Ah, we’re a mutual admiration society.” Lily motioned to the other lounge chair. “Join me?”

  Michele sank into the plush cushions and exhaled deeply. She was tired, jet-lagged, and her feet hurt from running in heels. “It feels like I haven’t sat down in years.”

  “It has been a long day. I didn’t know there would be a competition. Did you?”

  “No. I might not have applied,” Michele said softly, thinking about how the competition complicated her plans. “Do you know any of the other chefs?”

  “Not personally, but I recognized Freja Ringwold, the gorgeous tall blonde? She’s very famous in Sweden with her own cooking show. Tonia Sanchez, the curvy brunette with green eyes, owns three high-end Southwestern restaurants in Arizona. Suzette Monteclaire is well-known for—”

  “French cuisine. Yes, I know.” Michele felt like a fish out of water. A really small, unqualified fish. “What about the dark-haired chef with amazing skin? Nadia something.”

  “I’ve never seen her before. But—” Lily held up her finger and took out her cell phone “—Google will know.” A short time later, she smiled. “Nadia is an award-winning Mediterranean chef in Saudi Arabia, oh, and her father is a sheikh. There’s a picture of him and RW Harper taken about fifteen years ago. So, she might be a shoo-in, with her connections.”

  Great. What were Michele’s chances with this group? “That’s all of us, then. An eclectic bunch. What is Jeffrey looking for?”

  “A fantastic chef. Any of us would fit the bill,” Lily said.

  Except she wasn’t the chef she used to be.

  “If you do not mind me asking, why did you leave Alfieri’s? It seemed like you had a good situation there. I read there was some sort of—” Lily ran her slender hand through the air—“shake-up?”

  Michele sighed. “You could call it that.”

  “Sorry. I shouldn’t pry.”

  Michele studied the woman who was her competition and didn’t feel any sort of maliciousness in her. It had been a long time since she’d had a friend to talk to. Mom was the person she had confided in her whole life and now that she was gone... God, her heart was so heavy.

  “It’s okay. Alfieri was—” how to describe the man who’d destroyed her? “—difficult. I couldn’t stay. Don’t get me wrong, I owe him my career. He took me in as a young apprentice. He was a great teacher, a fabulous chef who took a chance on me. When things were good, they were really good. I miss what we had together. What we created.” That last bit came out choked.

  “Oh,” Lily said softly. “You were in love with him?”

  The creative genius? She adored that part of him, but the rest terrified her.

  She shook her head. “He is fifteen years older than me and so full of life and experience. I was an innocent girl from Indiana who ventured to New York to hone my cooking skills. Alfieri became my mentor. Because I owed him so much, I overlooked—” she winced, remembering the night he’d tried to scald her with boiling sauce because it was too salty “—I tried to ignore his faults. Until things got too intense.”

  Her throat was dry. She reached for the mineral water on the table with trembling fingers. Damn that man! He still got to her. She tried to wash the memories down.

  “What happened?” Lily’s eyes filled with concern.

  She didn’t know if it was the fact that she was so far from home and missing her sister—and, of course, Mom—or because Lily had such a gentle way about her, but Michele felt like she could confide in her. Now that she was talking, she couldn’t stop. “I threatened to leave because parts of me, the best parts, were disappearing.” Now, thanks to him, she still second-guessed herself every time she stepped into the kitchen. Alfieri’s caustic words had dammed up her colorful river. “He apologized for his behavior, promised to go to anger-management therapy, and begged me to stay. Then he offered me a partnership. He was opening a second restaurant and said I could be the head chef there. We’d rarely have to see one another and I’d have full reign over the second location. It seemed like a dream come true. I agreed and gave him my life’s savings as my share of the partnershi
p. I trusted him.” She looked Lily in the eye. “Fatal mistake.”

  “Oh, no.”

  “Long ugly story cut to the chase—he hired another chef for the second location without telling me.” Another young woman to idolize and belittle. “I quit and demanded my money back. He said he didn’t know what I was talking about but I could hire a lawyer if I wanted. He knew I didn’t have money for lawyers. I was such a fool to trust him.”

  Michele didn’t realize she was crying until Lily got up from her lounger, went inside and came back with a wash towel.

  “You poor dear.” Lily handed her the towel. “I hope Alfieri gets his just deserts for treating you like that.”

  Michele wiped her face, grateful for the kindness. Lily was the first person she’d confided in about this. She didn’t talk about Alfieri much, because she was deeply ashamed. She should’ve left his restaurant long ago but she’d been in such awe of his brilliant mind that she’d made excuses for his behavior. As if cruelty was acceptable, even expected, from a head chef.

  What she hadn’t realized was that cruelty would eat goodness and destroy beauty. It had wormed under her skin, stealing the special gift her mom had given her, and even after that, she’d believed Alfieri.

  She should’ve known better than to put her trust in a condescending, egotistical man. She’d never make that mistake again.

  The door opened to the balcony, making Michele jump.

  “Here you two are.” Jeff’s sister stepped outside. “Lily, you’re the first chef to cook tonight. Please come downstairs to the kitchen in thirty minutes. Michele, you’ll be cooking tomorrow. Good luck to both of you.”

  Good luck she needed desperately, and she would work her backside off to get it.

  * * *

  Jeff paced the large kitchen.

  What in the hell was he doing?

  The first two chefs had created culinary masterpieces. He’d personally judged them both and gave them five out of five stars. Either one of the dishes would be perfect for his new restaurant. The chefs were both talented and intelligent. There wasn’t anything wrong with either of them. The problem? He hadn’t...connected with either one.

  There was no poetry.

  Who was up next? He looked at his clipboard and read the names. The second name from the bottom caught his eye. Michele Cox.

  A tiny spark zinged in his gut.

  He picked up his cell phone and dialed Chloe’s number. His sister had come home recently, too, and was helping with the candidate selection. Right now, he needed a clear head.

  “How’s it going?” Chloe asked. “Ready for Tonia?”

  “Skip ahead to Michele Cox.”

  “She’s not up until lunch tomorrow.”

  He couldn’t wait that long. He had to know if the zing in his core was real. “Move her up.”

  “Sure. I like her. She’s so, I don’t know...”

  “Sparkly.” The word left his mouth before he could shut it down.

  “Yes! That’s it. Her eyes, her dimples, there’s a shine there. Do you know her?”

  “Not really. Do not tell her I said that either. If her culinary skills don’t match my expectations I’ll send her home like the other two.”

  “You’re dismissing them already? Don’t move. I’m on my way.” Less than a minute later, Chloe rushed into the kitchen. “Seriously? Just like that, they’re done? You didn’t give those first two chefs much of a chance and one of them was Dad’s pick—the sheikh’s daughter.”

  “Dad isn’t making the decisions here. I am. Why waste their time and mine?” He leaned against the counter, crossing his arms.

  “Because this is just another example of how you don’t spend much effort getting to know people. Do you ever let anyone in, Jeff?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I worry about you. When was the last time you made a real connection with someone? Anyone?” She pressed her hand to his chest. “Here.”

  Never. “I don’t have time for real connections.”

  “You need to try or you’ll wake up one day, grumpy, old and lonely. There’s more to life than work, Jeff. More to relationships than three minutes in an elevator.” She softened the zinger with a smile.

  He wasn’t going to discuss the sex video with his kid sister. It had been more than three minutes, but few people knew what had really happened in the elevator and he wanted to keep it that way.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Are you?” Her gaze pored over his face, her expression sad. “After what Mom did to you? Of the three of us, you had it the worst. I still have nightmares about that night in the shed.”

  Suddenly, he felt cold, his heart pounding. “How? You were, like, three.”

  “I remember.”

  He squeezed his hands into fists. He was not going to talk about this. “I’m fine. You can stop worrying about me being old and lonely. Didn’t you hear the news? I’m getting married.”

  She shook her head. “Not funny, Jeff.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “Don’t believe me? Ask Dad.”

  She mimicked his pose right back at him. His little sister never backed down from a challenge. It ran in the family. “Stop teasing. When we were kids, you swore you’d never get married.”

  He shrugged. “People grow up.”

  Her eyes widened. “You’re serious.”

  “As a heart attack.”

  “I can’t believe it. This is great. Who is the lucky bride? Please tell me it isn’t the one from the elevator.”

  “Hell, no.” His insides shuddered. “No one from New York.”

  “A local sweetheart? Is that why you changed your mind and agreed to come home?”

  He frowned. “I’m not Matt. No one has ever waited for me.”

  “Then who?”

  “Beats me. Got any ideas?”

  She cocked her head. “I don’t understand.”

  “The great RW Harper proclaimed a marriage to be so and...” he raised his hands in surrender “...I’m tying the knot. Once a bride shows up and agrees to a loveless marriage.”

  “No. You can’t get married without falling in love. That’s...not normal.”

  “Must run in the family. Doubt Mom and Dad cared for one another.”

  “And look how that turned out!” She gripped his elbow. “Please, Jeff. Reconsider. I want you to be happy.”

  He patted her arm. “I don’t have a lot of options right now. In case you didn’t see it, there was another meme released this morning. It’s brutal.”

  “I saw it.” She leaned against his shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”

  Her small act of kindness tugged on the anxiety in his gut and made him question whether he should tell her what had really happened in the elevator.

  Would she understand?

  “You’re a good person who deserves to be loved. I’ll do whatever I can to help you find your soul mate, Jeff.”

  “That’s not happening,” he grumbled.

  “All you need to do is open your fourth chakra—your heart space. I’ll help you unblock it so you have a chance.”

  Did she think he was emotionally constipated? Hell, maybe he was. “Give it up, sis. I’m a lost cause. Besides, I’ve managed this long without love, why find it now?”

  “Oh, Jeff.” Her eyes were wet. “Managing is not happiness. I learned that the hard way. I can teach you how to let your feelings flow. To heal you.”

  He didn’t want to offend her, but yoga wasn’t going to fix his problems. She was lucky she hadn’t acquired Mom’s “incapacity to love” genes like he had. Damned lucky.

  “I’ve got a chef to hire and a hotel empire to build. And on that note—” he pushed himself up off the counter “—tell Michele Cox to come down in twenty minutes. She’ll be the last one tonight.”

/>   “Okay.” Chloe started to walk out of the kitchen but turned back to give him a big hug before she left.

  Jeff made sure no one else was around and then pulled up the application videos on his computer. He played the one labeled “Michele Cox.”

  “...When the dishes are excellent, the patron can ease loneliness with a bite of ricotta cannelloni. That’s what I do. I make patrons feel happy and loved. I can do that for your new restaurant, too. I hope you’ll give me a chance. Thank you.”

  Her voice and words were strong. Confident. So why did he get a sense that Michele was fragile?

  He played it again. “I want to work for Harper Industries because I need to believe good things can happen to good people.” He pressed Pause so he could study her. Zoomed in closer. There. In her light brown eyes, he saw a look he’d seen in his own reflection.

  It made his heart beat faster.

  Michele Cox was a survivor, too.

  Four

  Michele stood alone next to the island in the Harper family kitchen and pressed her palms against the cool marble countertop.

  She closed her eyes and silently breathed in, I am a cooking goddess. Amazing and talented. And exhaled, I will create greatness. And then she threw her arms up in victory. It was a superstitious ritual, one she’d done before big cooking nights at Alfieri’s to focus her thoughts. It used to work. Tonight? Not so much.

  Bad thoughts kept rushing in. Broken fragments of anxiety looped through her mind like a terrible song she couldn’t stop hearing.

  Why do you think you can do this? You’ll mess this up.

  It was Alfieri’s voice. She opened her eyes and squeezed her fists together.

  She couldn’t make a mistake tonight.

  Biting her lip, she debated long and hard before she finally gave in and pulled up her recipe on her cell phone.

  That’s right, you have to cheat. You are nothing without me.

  “Shut up, Alfieri!” she whispered.