Tempting Donovan Ford (20 page)

So he kept his seat, pleased when Julia looked directly at him and her smile changed, warmed her eyes and made them glow with a look that was for him alone.

She stayed another minute and then excused herself to visit other tables. Donovan watched her move through the crowd, his eyes tracking the way she stopped to say hello, shake hands and offer a kiss if it was someone she knew well enough. Even under her bulky chef’s coat she looked great. Or maybe that was because he knew every inch of the lush curves that lay beneath it.

* * *

J
ULIA KNEW THE
night had been an utter success. No one would disagree. Not if they had eyes and taste buds.

The plates had been cleaned, no scraps left behind. The dining room had been full and there hadn’t been any major hiccups in service. There were always little things that could go better. A server had tried to verbally call the order instead of printing a ticket when they had a last-minute change; the bar had run out of the wine they’d suggested as a pairing for her signature dish; and one of the commis chefs had misfired an order and been unable to get back on pace. He’d struggled until Sasha had jumped in and taken over.

Julia would have to watch him closely, see if he could handle the pace she expected to be the norm. Tonight might not be out of the ordinary for a weekend, and if the cook couldn’t keep up, he’d have to go.

But even the possibility of letting someone go wasn’t enough to dim her good cheer. She oversaw the kitchen cleanup with a smile that she couldn’t contain. No matter that she’d been up for close to twenty hours and on her feet for the past sixteen of them. It had been worth it. Worth every worry, panic, fight to have everything turn out exactly as it had.

“Chef?”

Julia turned to find her head server standing in the pass between the kitchen and the dining room. She bestowed a smile on him, too. He’d been fantastic tonight, keeping everything running smoothly and ensuring all tables were well cared for. “Great job tonight, Jase.”

He smiled. “Mr. Ford is waiting at the bar. He’d like to see you when you’re done.”

“Which one?”

“Donovan.”

A wash of pleasure increased her already-high spirits. She nodded. “Thanks.” She’d been hoping Donovan might stick around so they could celebrate their success together. Because it was their success. Another trickle of pleasure flowed through her. Them. A pair. Who’d have thought?

The closing routine was finished twenty minutes later and Julia shooed everyone out with her thanks and congratulations. Stef was the last to leave, making sure there was nothing else she could do before she finally headed out the door.

Julia had no doubt the entire staff was headed somewhere together. There was too much adrenaline, too much excitement to call it a night so early. No doubt there would be much hooking up, too. She hoped her own night would follow suit.

She flipped the lock on the front door and then returned to the bar, where Donovan sat, nursing a soda water. “We did it.”

His eyes followed her as she moved closer to him. Heat pooled in between her thighs. “You did it.”

“No.” She threaded her fingers through his hair just above each temple. “This was definitely a team effort.”

Donovan looked at her but didn’t lean forward for the kiss she’d been anticipating. His brow creased. “Are we a team?”

Julia tilted her head and looked at him. She’d pulled out her hair tie before leaving the kitchen and her hair spilled over her shoulder and down her arm. “I think so.”

“Good.” He patted the stool beside him at the bar. “Let me get you a drink.”

Julia wavered and eyed the bar. The light was out behind the wall of bottles and there was no one to serve from it anyway. “We’re closed.” And she really wanted to go home.

“Our license allows us to serve until midnight.” He got up, his arm brushing hers as he moved. She felt a small jolt rock through her, felt it grow when he pulled down a bottle, twirled the neck over his fingers. “Water? Soda? Something with a little bite?” He spun the bottle over the back of his wrist and caught it neatly.

“Exactly how many times did you watch
Cocktail
?” The movie had always been one of her favorites.

“No more than ten. And it was for business, so a tax write-off.” He flipped the bottle behind his back, letting it spin end over end before catching it at hip height. Julia just stared at him. “What?” His lips curved into what could only be deemed a smirk. “You think I just walked into my job based on nepotism?”

“Um...yes.”

He laughed. “I won’t say that didn’t help, but no. I worked at Elephants as soon as I was legally permitted to do so. First as a busser, then a bartender. I did that all through university, and after I went back East for my master’s, I worked at the wine bar every summer.”

“Did you really? Spinning wine bottles before serving them?”

“You know we serve more than wine, and the ladies used to go crazy for my moves.”

“I’m sure.”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “Test me. Order something crazy and I’ll make it.”

She crossed her arms on the bar and leaned closer. “What if I don’t want something crazy?”

“Then that will make it much easier to impress you.”

“And why are you trying to impress me?”

“Maybe
impress
isn’t the right word. Soften, win over.” He put the bottle down and leaned forward to kiss her. “You tell me which one you like best and that’s the one we’ll go with.”

“You don’t need to do any of that.” She felt her breath catch. His lips hovered just over hers, so close she could feel their warmth.

“You sure?” he murmured.

Julia didn’t feel like talking anymore. She nodded.

“Then why was my brother allowed to kiss you in public while I had to keep my distance?”

If he’d told her that he’d decided to give her the restaurant free and clear, she couldn’t have been more surprised. She slumped against the back of the bar stool. But when she studied his face, she saw he wasn’t kidding. Oh, sure, he was smiling and there was a slight lift to his eyebrow, but his eyes were serious. He really wanted to know. In some little way, it thrilled her. That he cared enough to ask. That he cared enough to notice.

“Donovan.” She reached out to cup his cheek. “Are you jealous?”

“Yes.” He pushed the bottle farther to the side and levered himself half onto the bar so they were within kissing distance again. “I know you said you wanted to keep things casual, but I’m not crazy about the idea of my brother macking on you in public.”

“I’d hardly call a peck on the cheek
macking
.” She peered up at him. The main overhead lights were off, only the sconces behind the bar glowing, leaving little pools of soft lights and pockets of shadows. It was a warm and secretive ambience. One where people wouldn’t be afraid to share what lived in their hearts. “You could kiss me now.”

“I could.” And he did. A light press of lips that felt as soft as a feather. She shivered. “And what if I want to do more than kiss you?”

Her breath slipped out, the opposite of a gasp, as if it was being tugged from her lungs. “I think that could be arranged.”

She watched him through hooded eyes as he came back around the bar. There was purpose and intent to his gait. God, it was hot. He was hot. And when Donovan flicked open the top buttons of her chef’s coat and dipped his fingers into the now-exposed neckline, she shivered again.

“Because I want to do this.” He pressed a kiss to the swoop of her collarbone and then drew a line along the ridge with his tongue. Julia felt her legs begin to shake. More wobbly than the perfect panna cotta. “And I want to—” The rest of what he said was drowned out by the roar of lust that filled her ears.

Julia sucked in a loud breath. What had he said? Had it been important? “Hmm?”

But Donovan didn’t answer. He nibbled his way down her chest, flicking open more buttons as he went. She had only a thin tank top on underneath her coat, the kitchen too warm for anything heavier. He licked up her chest, into the slight hollow of cleavage, and swirled his tongue in the dip at the base of her throat. Her hands dropped from his head to his shoulders. She clutched him, holding tight to both his body and her heart.

Except she was dearly afraid it was already too late for that. Her heart, her body, her everything, they were all his. No, they weren’t. She sucked in another breath. They were hers. And she was sharing them with him only temporarily.

“Donovan?” Now it was her voice that shook like panna cotta.

As though he knew exactly what thoughts were spinning through her head, as though he knew she was on the verge of tumbling, he moved forward one last step so that he was nestled between her legs. A support beam, strong and tall and unmoving. He didn’t say anything. Didn’t ask why her voice had shaken or why she was clinging to him as though he was a lifeline.

He just let her hang on. Let her know that whatever this was, it was okay with him. She couldn’t have been more grateful.

Finally, when Julia was sure her voice was under control and her legs were no longer quivering, she cleared her throat. “What were you going to say?”

He tilted his head back to look at her. “I want you to come to a party at my parents’ place next week.”

“To cater?” Julia’s mind made the most obvious connection. They’d loved her food and they owned the restaurant. It would make sense. Plus, it would be another opportunity to get her name and food into the brains and mouths of people in the industry. People who would talk about her and the restaurant and make sure that tonight’s full dining room wasn’t an anomaly.

“Not to cater.” A small smile made the corners of his eyes lift up. “As my date.”

His date? Julia blinked and then swallowed. She shoved those earlier, dangerous thoughts out of her head. This wasn’t going to last forever. They were just enjoying each other for now. “Don’t you think that’s getting a little serious?” They’d been clear on this, hadn’t they? That she needed to focus on the restaurant, keep things between them from getting too deep. But he only stared at her, and what she saw in his eyes frightened her. “Donovan?”

“It is serious, Julia. We both know that.”

She could hear the thundering of her heart. He hadn’t needed to tell her. She already knew. Still, she did her best to hold strong. To pretend that her newly reawakened sex life was just a casual thing—and besides, they’d been together only a few weeks. Not long enough to know. Not long enough to love. “Do we?”

He frowned. “Don’t belittle this. Us. I care for you.”

She was glad he didn’t say
love
. She didn’t know what she would have done if he had. Run away? Thanked him? Thrown herself more fully into his embrace and told him to take her to bed or lose her forever? Okay, she really needed to stop watching ’80s Tom Cruise movies. “I care for you, too.”

“I know. So come with me.”

She wanted to say yes. She really did. But the restaurant, her reputation, her—

“Please. It would mean a lot to me.”

And how was she supposed to say no to that? She wasn’t made of stone. And it wasn’t as if she and Donovan were going to start making out in the middle of the living room. She didn’t think. She looked at him. He looked back and her stomach did one of those low swoops. Oh, God.

The word came out in a whisper before she even had time to consider the implications. “Yes.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“
W
E NEED TO
talk about Owen.”

Donovan looked up from his computer to find Mal already making herself comfortable in one of his guest chairs. “What is with this family and the barging in lately? Whatever happened to social niceties?”

Mal leaned back as though she owned the place, which, in a way, she did. They all did. “Don’t consider this a change of subject, but fine.” She widened her eyes and gave him a fake smile. “Hello, brother dear. How are you?”

“Brother dear?”

“You wanted niceties.” Mal shrugged. “And now my niceties aren’t good enough. Maybe Owen is right about you.”

Donovan snorted. “First time for everything.” He turned back to his computer, hunting and pecking away. It might be Friday afternoon, but that didn’t mean the end of the workweek. Like all of their bar and restaurant staff, Donovan worked into the evenings and through the weekend. “So.” His eyes stayed on the line items in his spreadsheet. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit and why were you and Owen discussing me?”

When Mal didn’t answer, Donovan was forced to turn away from his computer screen. Which wasn’t much of a trial, since even he didn’t find capital expenses and inventory reports fascinating.

She smirked. “Family secret.”

“Oh?” Donovan lifted an eyebrow. “Are we keeping those now?”

“If we’re not, we should. Anyway, Owen.”

Donovan had known it would be difficult to budge Mal’s focus, but he’d felt the need to try. Older-brother privilege and all that. He folded his hands on the desk and gave his sister his complete attention. “What about him?”

“We need to talk about him.”

“Which we were just doing.”

“A different talk.” She pinned him with her best don’t-mess-with-me stare. “I think he should take over management at La Petite Bouchée.”

Donovan felt a slow trickle of unease work its way down the back of his neck. He wasn’t sure he liked this idea. Wasn’t sure at all. “Do you?”

“Yes. He’s been running Elephants for five months now.”

Donovan blinked. Had it really been five months? He was surprised to count off in his head and discover it had been. But still. It was five months of work against years of playing. As far as Donovan was concerned, Owen was still a long way from proving himself. “Five months isn’t very long in the big picture.”

“No, it’s not.” He hadn’t expected her to agree, which meant she had more to her pitch. Of course she did. She was Mallory Ford. She didn’t come in with one lone suggestion. She came in with a detailed list, all with reports to back it up and a plan ready for implementation. Donovan should know. He’d taught her those tricks. “But he’s good, Donovan. Have you looked at the latest returns and the profit projections for next year?”