Authors: Jennifer Probst
He pointed to the quote in stark black and white. “It states here she spoke directly to the chef of Mia Casa. Are you crazy, Tony? Why did you answer a call from a critic without putting me on the phone?”
His chef straightened to full height. Unfortunately, since he only topped five-six, he didn’t have a long way to go. “She identified herself as Miranda Storme. How am I to know she is from
Miranda Eats
? She said she dined here and asked what I thought about the food I served.”
The awful finality of the quote slammed into Gavin’s brain and he read it aloud. “Anthony Riccio is the head chef of Mia Casa and states this about a customer’s dining experience: ‘The food is of the same high quality no matter what day or time a diner visits. I pride myself on consistency and good cooking.’ If this is the truth, don’t bother going in for lunch, either, unless you want to keep chewing your vegetables throughout the day.”
Tony threw his head up to the sky and spit out his declaration. “A lie! We shall sue and regain our reputation!”
Gavin surrendered the battle and reached for the crystal shot glass to pour a stream of whiskey. He ignored his mother’s shocked gasp and directed his words toward his chef. “Tony, the waiters told me they never served so much water. We want the bar bill up, not the water bill.” He cut his hand through the air for silence when his chef opened his mouth. “Enough. What’s done is done.”
“Tracey said I don’t spend enough time with her and she’s thinking about going with this other guy,” Brando said. “I had to convince her not to. Why am I always working anyway, when Gavin gets all the credit?”
His father reached out and grabbed his brother by his ear like he was three. “Brando, I am the one who called your brother and asked for help. He took a leave from his job to help us, and you will respect this.”
One lower lip jutted out in a sulky expression to rival Marlon Brando. “I bet I could’ve gotten a better review from Miranda Storme.”
“Brando Luciano, respect your older brother,” boomed Archimedes Luciano, patriarch of the family.
Brando stood up. “Why should I, Pop? I was the one who was supposed to inherit the restaurant. He goes away for three years, decides he wants the business, and you go and give it to him. Now look what happens. If business sucked before, it’ll be worse after the review.”
Gavin hated to admit his brother was right. His gut told him there was more to that review than just business, and he was to blame. “Mia Casa was going bankrupt, Brando,” he said quietly. “It’s a family business and we’re all involved, but this place needs some changes to keep up with the times. Dating and partying is fine, but the restaurant needs twenty-four hour attention. Are you ready to do that?”
“Sure. I’ll just imitate you. Abandon the restaurant and achieve a crappy review from the most important food critic in town. Pure genius.”
Mama shook her finger at his brother. “Language!”
Gavin squeezed his eyes shut. Unfortunately, his brother spoke the truth. Crap, why hadn’t he suspected she was on a formal review? Because the moment he laid his gaze on her, he’d been toast. When he left her years ago, she’d been ready to embark on her studies at the culinary. He figured she’d be a prestigious chef, and kept track of her progress while overseas.
Instead, she exploded in the papers and high-profile magazines as the hot new reviewer in the city. He studied everything she’d ever written. Her work demonstrated a sharp-witted style, a wicked sense of humor, and an old-fashioned tendency toward fairness.
But Sunday’s column was personal, and Mia Casa took the hit. How much money had he already sunk into the renovations and big-time advertising to build a new client base? A menu overhaul almost put him in the hospital, as each item needed to be argued over with his parents, while his mother mourned the loss of traditional favorites.
The celebrity chef stunt almost lured him to quit. Almost. He demoted Antonio to assistant, and splashed the announcement of the big new hire of a well-known chef from the Food Network. His grizzled appearance and world-weary expertise was impressive. Gavin figured the guy could take any crap his family threw at him and get Mia Casa big exposure.
Wrong.
His family plotted the chef’s demise from the beginning. Expensive truffles suddenly disappeared. The clean and white pressed uniforms the chef insisted on showed up soiled and smelly. The small group of waiters left his food under the warmer for too long, so complaints trickled in about dried up fish and meat. Seven full days, and the Lucianos toppled the big cheese. The chef quit and walked out in an old-fashioned temper tantrum, while Tony threw up his arms and pretended he didn’t understand.
More money down the tubes. And Gavin learned his lesson. He could dump his money, hire who he wanted, but the core group would never change because they were family.
Gavin grabbed for patience as his family continued bickering. When Pop called him and asked for help, he never hesitated. He figured it would be the easiest job of his career.
Not.
His one step forward with the renovations just took five steps back. Now he had to deal with the aftereffects of negative publicity. Why had she picked his restaurant at this time? Had she written the column to guarantee he’d track her down? An unconscious attempt to get him so angry, he’d be sure to initiate another meeting?
Gavin threw back the last of his shot. Hmmm. Sounded good, but he guessed she’d scoff and tell him his massive ego was twisting things again.
Didn’t matter. She’d thrown down the gauntlet and opened the door of the past, whether she knew it or not. He was just going to walk right through.
Gavin scooped up the paper and tucked it under his arm. “I’ll take care of it.”
“How?” Archimedes asked.
“I’ll get her to write a second review.”
Silence settled over the dining room. His family looked at him as if he’d taken leave of his senses.
Brando snorted. “She never does second reviews—that’s part of her style. Once she tags a place unfit, it’s tagged for life. You’ll never get her to do one.”
He gazed at his brother with narrowed eyes. “Watch me.”
He strode out of the restaurant.
…
“Ouch. Stephen, that hurt, you devil.”
The little boy screeched in delight as his pudgy fist came away with a few strands of red hair. Miranda rubbed her scalp where her new bald spot lay. “Manda, do it again!”
She shook her head and swung him high in her arms. “Don’t think so, flirt. If that’s how you show affection for a girl, you’re gonna be in some trouble.”
He kicked his feet and laughed as he played the familiar game of airplane. “Fly me, fly me!”
The doorbell rang, and Miranda made a landing noise as she settled him against one hip. “Come on, flirt. Daddy’s here to pick you up. Said you were going to the zoo today.”
“Aminals!” he shouted. “Daddy said I could see the lion in
The
Wizard of Oz
.”
“That’s right. Lions and tigers and bears, oh my.” She grinned and threw open the door. “And here’s your—oh, my God!”
“Oh my God,” the toddler boy mimicked.
Gavin took one look at the toddler perched on her hip and grew pale. “Oh, my God.”
Silence fell between them as they glanced at one another, and Miranda tried to gather her wits. She knew writing the column had been a risk. With Gavin’s massive ego, she bet he thought she wrote it in the hopes he would contact her. Still, revenge had been too sweet to ignore.
But she’d never expected him to show up on her doorstep.
“What are you doing here?” She moved her head away as Stephen reached for another red curl. “How did you find me?”
Gavin’s gaze never left the boy’s face. His voice came out ragged. “I needed to talk to you. We never finished our conversation.”
Miranda snorted. “No, you just can’t handle a woman walking away from you. I was finished with the conversation. I think you’d better go.”
She tried to shut the door but he blocked it with the toe of his leather shoe. “We have a lot more things to discuss.” He studied the toddler. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Stephen must have sensed the growing tension and let out a cry. She spoke softly. “You’re upsetting him. I don’t have time for this right now.”
Gavin’s olive skin seemed to grow a shade paler. He propped himself up against the edge of the door. “I’m a little upset myself.”
“Look, if you have a problem with the review, take it up with my editor. Every word was valid and—what’s the matter?”
He ran one hand through his hair. Oaky brown strands flopped across his forehead. “Can I sit down for a minute?”
She opened her mouth to tell him no, but he moved through her apartment and settled on the sofa. Odd, he looked almost sick as he stared at the toddler. Almost as if…
Understanding dawned. He thought Stephen was hers! The humor of the situation put her back in a good mood. Good. He believed she had a husband tucked away in the back room and a full, happy life. The faster she got him out of here, the better off she’d be. He’d never bother her again. His monstrous ego probably shuddered at the thought she’d moved on without him.
“Are you happy?”
Miranda sucked in her breath as she caught the look on his face. Raw hunger. As if he wished the child was theirs. But of course, she was imagining things. Gavin told her many times he didn’t want children. Another reason she’d never told him the truth or tried to contact him.
She opened her mouth to tell the truth but the doorbell rang.
Miranda took a deep breath and let Andy in. “Hey, sorry I’m late, but Laura’s dance class ran over— Oops, didn’t know you had company.”
“Gavin stopped by to discuss a few things.”
Andy gave him a nod, then crouched and held out his arms. “Come here, buddy.”
The toddler ran toward his father and flung himself into the embrace. Andy swung him up, the look of fatherly pride gleaming in his eyes, but she made sure not to glance back. “You better get going if you want to have enough time at the zoo.”
“Was he any trouble?”
She absently rubbed her head and grinned. “Of course not, he’s an absolute angel.”
Andy laughed. “You’re a great liar. Come on buddy, time to see the animals.”
“Aminals! Bye, Manda.”
She gave the child a kiss and shut the door behind them. Then slowly turned around.
Electricity pulsed and crackled through the air. One very tall, very pissed off male rose from the couch and closed the distance between them. She watched in fascination as he stopped right before her. His jaw clenched with tension. “You should have told me.”
Her eyes widened. “You come storming into my apartment, make the assumption Stephen is mine, and you’re mad at me? You didn’t even give me a minute to tell the truth.”
He frowned. “You know what I thought.”
“What’s the matter, Gavin? Did you really believe I’ve wasted the past few years waiting for you to contact me again? Sorry to disappoint you, but I’ve moved on with my life. Now get out.”
“Soon. Why did you do a review on my family’s restaurant?”
She moved away and walked into the kitchen. Grabbing the kettle with unsteady fingers, she filled the pot with water and flicked on the flame. “All of my reviews aren’t planned. I do many impromptu visits.”
He followed. “Why do I have an idea you didn’t plan to write up Mia Casa until our encounter?”
Miranda focused on her soothing ritual. She took down a box of green tea bags, hoping the magical healing qualities of the herbs soothed her. One delicate teacup embroidered with roses clicked on the small plate. Sugar, milk, lemon. The tea set was an antique find in a second-hand shop and came from royalty. She liked to imagine a queen sipping the brew with ladylike restraint, her emotions firmly in check as she relaxed within the constraints of tradition.
God, how she longed to be that person. God, how hard she’d tried to change. “Does this really matter? What do you really want, Gavin?”
“I want you to do another review.”
She removed the kettle and poured. Fragrant puffs of smoke rose from the cups. She picked one up and handed it to him. “I see.”
“Your column was personal. Not up to your standards, Red. You always talk to the owner after a review to see if he or she had any comments, especially if you decide not to recommend the restaurant. You’re usually fair, but you didn’t write one decent comment about Mia Casa.”
“I liked the bread.”
He snorted. “I understand you wanted revenge. But your review can hurt my family, and they have nothing to do with the mess I made out of our relationship. I need a fair deal. Do a second visit, unscheduled.”
Her will shook, then stilled. He was a master at closing a deal and getting what he wanted. He rose up from the ranks at demonic speed, and became the top closer for a valid reason. He never took no for an answer. Even now, she fought her natural ability to surrender, and allow herself the pleasure of his approving smile, or the flash of satisfaction in his eyes. He was Dom material down to the bone, and she refused to play the game any longer. This time, he’d never get what he wanted. It was the last shred of pride left, and she’d be damned if she showed any weakness.
“No.”
He blinked. “No?”
She placed her teacup on the table. “I’m not doing a second review. I’m sorry it will affect your family, but I was fair, impartial, and I told the truth.” She quenched the tiny flicker of guilt and soothed herself with the knowledge she followed the basic regulations of rating a restaurant. Showing Gavin a lesson was just an extra perk in the process. “I told my readers I never tried the dessert. I called to speak with your head chef and get his comment. Talking with the owners is not a necessity, and doesn’t make or break a review. My motto is clear. I never do second reviews. Our business is concluded—on all matters. If you’ll excuse me, I have a number of things to do this afternoon. You know the way out.”
She took the cup from his hands, set it on the counter, and walked away. A rush of triumph raced through her. She was free. This time around, her old love was not in control, and it probably drove him crazy.