Tempting Donovan Ford (31 page)

Her eyes shot toward him, her body tense. But he remained relaxed, hands easy on the wheel as he steered the car through the heavy throngs of summer crowd and pulled up in front of La Petite Bouchée.

Julia balked. She hadn’t been back since quitting. Not once. She feared it would be too easy to fall into the rhythms she’d built and created, to take up as executive chef once more. Her hands fisted.

“Donovan?” She glanced at him. True to his word, the restaurant was still part of the Ford Group. Even though she happened to know that he’d received three offers on the property in the past month, each one more generous than the last. “What are we doing here?”

“It’s time to come back.” He climbed out of the car, came around to the passenger side to help her out.

Julia didn’t move, didn’t even unbuckle her seat belt. She stared at the hand Donovan held out to her. She wasn’t ready to come back.

Her flowing peach dress felt constricting, as though the straps were going to reach up and wrap themselves around her throat, and the gold belt seemed to cut into her waist. Even her strappy gold shoes, which she had to buckle on the last hole to fit her narrow feet, felt tight, as if everything was biting into her.

“I know you’ve missed it.”

His voice was gentle and warm. It rained down on her like a summer drizzle. “It’s time to face the kitchen.”

She smiled and some of the panic abated. She had missed it. Desperately. She put her hand in his and climbed out of the car.

The air, cooler near the water, eased some of the tightness in her throat. She heard the familiar call of seagulls scavenging for food on the pier just off the market, smelled the briny scent of the ocean and felt it ease a little more. She’d missed this. Not just the cooking and the people, but the place and the location. She probably shouldn’t have stayed away.

She took strength from Donovan, absorbing it the way her pans absorbed heat from the stove. “I have missed it.” And she let him lead her down the walkway to the window beside the front door, still emblazoned with her name.

La Petite Bouchée

Executive Chef: Julia Laurent

She didn’t say he should change that. She didn’t mention it at all. But her eyes stole back to the gold script as they walked through the door. Her name. Her restaurant.

The hostess blinked when she saw her. “Chef.”

“Just Julia now,” she said, though it made her heart hurt. But it was true. Her name might be on the door, but she was no longer the chef here and the staff shouldn’t refer to her as such. She forced a smile.

The hostess nodded. “The rest of your party is already here.” She led them out of the small entry and into the main dining room. Julia was pleased to see the place was hopping.

La Petite Bouchée might not be hers right now, but it was still her hard work that had helped make it a success. Her opinion that had gotten the beautiful walnut bar instead of the glossy white one Donovan had wanted. Her food on the menu.

Her smile grew in size and sincerity when she saw who made up the party waiting for them. She turned to look at Donovan. “What’s all this for?”

“You’ll see.” He merely guided her toward a table at the back. She tensed when she saw who was waiting for them. His parents, Owen and Mal. She was half thrilled, half panicked and sent him a questioning look.

“They missed you, too.” His hand was warm on the small of her back. “Almost as much as I did.”

Julia wanted to say something. To him, to them. But she couldn’t get anything past the lump in her throat.

“Where have you been hiding yourself?” Gus rose to pull her into a warm bear hug. His arms were strong and protective. “Tell my son to stop hogging you to himself.”

“Can you blame me?” Donovan moved to tug her back, but Gus spun them away.

“I’m not done with her yet.” He gave her another hug then a stern look. “I’m not very happy that you haven’t been to see us, young lady.”

And Julia felt the lump become a boulder. Maybe she should have gone to see Gus and Evelyn. Should have looked past her own hurt, sucked up her fear and knocked on their door. “Sorry.”

“No need to apologize.” He smiled, and the boulder shrank to a pebble. “Just make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

Because they missed her and they wanted to see her. The affection they shared with her wasn’t wholly based on her relationship with Donovan. Julia realized she was accepted and it was the greatest feeling in the world. “Yes, sir.”

“And don’t call me sir. Makes me feel old.”

Owen cleared his throat noisily.

“That’s enough out of you,” Gus told his younger son. He turned Julia back to the table. “Did you hear I’ve taken up gardening?” He looked awfully pleased with himself, which surprised her, given his less-than-enthusiastic response to foods that were green.

She nodded as pleasure spiraled through her. It was as though she’d never been apart from them at all. But maybe that was how it was with family. “I heard you’ve got quite the green thumb. How’s that going?”

“Why don’t you come by and see for yourself.”

“Dad.” Donovan took Julia’s hand back. “Now you’re the one hogging her.”

“I’m just making up for lost time.”

“Gus.” Evelyn rose and put a hand on her husband’s arm. “Let the rest of us say hello, too.”

“Fine, fine,” Gus grumbled, but he sent Julia a wink over his wife’s head. A private communication between the two of them. Like an inside joke that could be shared only between loved ones.

And for the first time, it really became clear what she’d missed by letting go of them. The support, the cheer, just knowing they’d be there for her.

She wanted to bury her face in Evelyn’s shoulder, the way she might have as a child with her mother. She didn’t, but Evelyn seemed to sense what she needed anyway.

“It’s good to have you back, dear.” And though her hug wasn’t as strong or bone-crunching as Gus’s had been, it was just as powerful. She stroked the back of Julia’s head. “Just give it a minute.”

And when Julia felt the prickling behind her eyes subside, she gave Evelyn another squeeze. “Thank you.”

“Anytime. You’re family now.”

Not
like
family. Family. Julia darted a look at Donovan. It was the same thing he’d said.

“Told you,” he mouthed.

“Did you tell them to say that?” she whispered in his ear a minute later when she finally let go of Evelyn.

“Have you met my parents? No one tells them to do anything.”

Julia received a hug from Mal, too, which was just as warm if less effusive.

“My turn.” Owen, the only one she hadn’t let go because he refused to be dropped, horned his way in.

“I don’t think I’m talking to you,” Julia told him. “Since you can’t keep a secret.”

“I didn’t tell your secret. Sasha told your secret.” He pulled her into a hug. “It’s good to see you. And if my brother blows it with you again, I’d like to state for the record that a) he didn’t come to me for advice and b) I’m available to travel.”

“She’s not going anywhere with you,” Donovan said. But there was a smile in his voice and on his face.

As they settled into their seats and conversation, Julia’s heart grew full. This was how family should be. Loving, welcoming, supportive. She’d missed it. And them.

The food was good, though her chicken was just a shade overdone. Not enough that most people would notice and nowhere near the point of dry. But verging on it. She wouldn’t have let it out of her kitchen.
The
kitchen, she reminded herself. No matter that her name was still on the door. No matter that it looked good there. This was no longer her restaurant or kitchen. But she made a mental note to talk to Sasha about it.

Just because La Petite Bouchée was no longer hers didn’t mean she wanted it to fail.

They laughed and talked, enjoying their meals and dessert, and as the night wore on, Julia felt some of her fears slide away. She was happy here. She looked around the room, taking it in as a customer instead of a chef. It was classy and comfortable. She and Donovan had done a good job. An amazing job.

And she wasn’t the only one enjoying it. The Fords were, too, along with everyone else in the restaurant. Julia felt a niggle of loss. That she’d let this go and walked away. She missed it. Maybe she always would.

But that was her issue to deal with.

A round of coffee had just been poured when Donovan stood up, drawing the attention of everyone at the table. “I think now is a good time.”

A good time for what? But when Julia glanced around the table, no one else seemed surprised by the announcement. The Fords didn’t seem to think anything was odd or amiss. They all watched Donovan with the occasional eye flick to her. She looked back to Donovan, intending to ask what was happening, but she didn’t get her chance.

“As many of you know, I didn’t want to buy this restaurant.”

Julia wondered where he was going with this. They’d been back only a week, and during that time, he’d promised to let her figure things out on her own. Of course, he’d also forced her to come to La Petite Bouchée.

“And as I’ve told Julia, I’ve come to realize the error of my ways.”

“Donovan.” She tried to interrupt. Other people were beginning to notice him standing in the middle of the room making a speech. “What are you doing?”

“I’m making a speech.” He winked and plowed ahead as though she hadn’t warned him at all. “Some of you may know that I’ve been trying to work out ownership terms with my lovely and talented chef.” Julia opened her mouth to tell him that she wasn’t the chef here anymore, but he just kept talking. “But no matter what I offer, she turns me down. It seems I might have said something during our initial meeting about keeping all ownership in the family.”

“You did say that,” Julia felt obligated to point out. She could feel the eyes on her now. Her face felt hot and she shifted uncomfortably. She didn’t want to talk about this. Not here and not in front of his family.

“I did.” Donovan looked only at her. “And I’ve thought of a solution.”

Julia caught movement by the kitchen door, saw Sasha and some of the other staff come through. What was going on? Were they all going to try to convince her? And would she be able to keep up the pretense with all of them watching her, urging her to admit what was in her heart? That she was afraid, but she still wanted the restaurant more than she could say.

“Julia Suzanne Laurent.”

She whipped her head around and saw that Donovan had gotten down on one knee.

“Donovan.” Julia’s voice was a whisper now. “What are you doing?” But she didn’t need to ask. It was pretty obvious when he got down on one knee and pulled out a black velvet box and flipped the lid to reveal a stunning ring. A single square diamond surrounded by a circle of sparkling diamonds.

“It was my grandmother’s ring that I had repurposed. A little bit of tradition and a little bit of innovation. Just like us.”

Her chest felt full—too full. “When did you do this?”

“I called my mom from Paris, asked her to take it to a good jeweler.”

She swallowed and looked at the ring again. It wasn’t at all what she would have picked herself, but now that she’d seen it, she couldn’t imagine anything else. “Pretty sure of yourself, weren’t you?”

“Hopeful.”

Owen cough-talked into his hand. “Desperate.”

Julia bit her lip to keep from laughing.

Donovan shot a glare at his brother and continued. “I had a special chain made, one with hooks where you can attach the ring, so you don’t have to worry about it when you’re working. So I’d like to know—will you marry me?”

Julia looked at him, then the ring, then him. He was offering her everything. His heart, his name, his family. All she had to do was accept. All she had to do was believe. Believe that he meant what he said. That he loved her. She looked into his eyes and saw there was only one possible answer.

“Yes.” And the band, when he slid it on her finger, felt warm and comforting. The people at their table began to clap, as did the rest of the restaurant.

Donovan rose and gathered her into his arms. “I love you.”

“I love you more.”

He laughed quietly, the sound rumbling against her ear. “I love hearing you say that. Tell me again.”

She obliged twice before Sasha interrupted them, demanding a hug from the soon-to-be bride, then Mal, Owen, Gus and Evelyn, and Julia found herself surrounded by friends and family, those she loved and who loved her in return. It felt good.

Sasha pulled her aside for another hug as the rest of the staff filed back into the kitchen. “Donovan was so sweet. Do you know he came by and asked for my permission?”

“He did?” Julia glanced over her shoulder at Donovan. At her fiancé. More love than she’d thought existed filled her up. Her mother was gone and she didn’t know who her father was, but Donovan had still given her the traditions she needed in the only way possible. She wiped at her suddenly wet eyes.

“Yes. And once I was assured that he could be trusted with your heart, I told him I’d be thrilled.”

Julia wiped her eyes a little harder. “Does this mean you’re planning to give me away?” She sniffled as she thought of her mom and of the family she was about to join. “Because I sort of thought you’d be my maid of honor.”

Sasha flung her arms around her. “I can do both. I’m so happy for you.”

Julia sniffled some more.

“Do not get snot on my chef jacket. Food safety.”

Julia gave a watery laugh. “Then you’d better stop hugging me.” But she was grateful that Sasha didn’t. She was grateful for everything right now.

Sasha had to go back to the kitchen and invited Julia to come with her, to say hello to those who hadn’t come out and show off her ring. Julia’s initial instinct was to decline. Actually, no. That wasn’t true. Her first instinct was to fly back there to greet everyone with a big hug and make sure they were taking care of her kitchen.

“I don’t want to interrupt service.”

Sasha’s eyebrows lifted. “And why not? Too good for the likes of us now that you’re an owner?”

Julia glanced over at the swinging door that led to the kitchen and, at one time, her salvation.