Tempting Donovan Ford (6 page)

“And?” Sasha asked.

“And we came to a mutually agreeable solution.” One that Julia hoped would see her vision of the restaurant become a reality. She saw no reason it wouldn’t, since Donovan had confirmed that he hoped to sell the restaurant in the near future. But she popped the bubble of excitement that threatened to rise. They still had a long way to go before then. “Is the prep done?” Because no matter what else had happened today, she still had a service to run tonight. With a newly signed contract, it now felt more important than ever that things go well.

“Almost.” Sasha turned back to her station, checking the sauces and stocks simmering on the burners.

Julia didn’t need to look in the pots to know what was there. Variations on the five master sauces that were the basis of French cooking, stocks that would be used in the sauces and reduced to glaze certain dishes.

She inhaled the scent of tarragon and basil, parsley and chervil being chopped as she headed to her office to check on the delivery and change into her chef whites. Tonight would be a good night in the kitchen. No specter hanging over her head, no worry that she was going to be bounced out of the kitchen and restaurant. Nothing but cooking.

“Did you see the delivery in your office?” Sasha called from the kitchen a few minutes later. “I put it on the chair by the door.”

Julia hadn’t noticed anything, but then, she hadn’t looked, either. She’d been thinking and swapping her business suit and heels for her comfy pants, T-shirt, chef jacket and Converse runners. “Anything important?” She received plenty of deliveries during the week. Invoices for food, bills for their linen service, samples from suppliers.

“I don’t know. A bottle of wine with a gold bow around the neck sound important?”

“What?” Julia’s head whipped up to look at Sasha, who was smirking in the doorway.

“I sense you haven’t told me everything about the meeting.” Sasha gestured to the chair with her head. “Well, go look at it and then come back to the kitchen and tell me everything.”

Julia almost didn’t. She didn’t even know whom the bottle was from. But the excitement bubbling inside her did. An instinct confirmed when she pulled the note from the envelope attached by the ribbon.

To a bright and satisfying future.

Donovan

She recognized the
label. An expensive and uncommon bottle. She hadn’t needed to read the card to know it was all Donovan. All class. Attraction flared. Which showed just how long she’d been without a boyfriend, if a bottle of wine, even one that cost more than most people’s weekly paychecks, was enough to get her all heated up.

Well, that may be so, but she didn’t have to act on it. Couldn’t act on it. Her focus needed to be on the restaurant. She didn’t have time for anything else. Maybe in a few years when her name was on the deed, when La Petite Bouchée was spoken about in the same breath as other great Vancouver restaurants, she could ease off a little. But until then, she’d accept the gift at face value, a way of welcoming her and her team to the company. Nothing more. Then she went out to tell the staff they were going to have a treat with family meal tonight, the meal she cooked and served before the start of service to make sure everyone was fueled for the long night ahead.

Because what was the point of having such a fantastic bottle of wine if not to share it with the ones you loved?

* * *

D
ONOVAN LOOKED AROUND
La Petite Bouchée
with a discerning eye. In the glow of the lights, without the sharp, exposing brightness of the sun, the space looked better. Not good but better.

The walls were plain but clean, as were the tables and chairs. The bar was too small and should extend another couple of feet to make full use of the space. They could easily fit in three or four more stools at a longer bar, which would mean three or four more people eating and drinking and adding to their profits.

The parquet flooring was worn and scuffed, and even if it was salvageable, Donovan had no plans to keep it. It was just a dated look that added nothing to the space. He was bringing in the designer next week to look the place over and discuss some potential changes. Hopefully, it could be done quickly and cheaply.

“Stop working,” Mal said, shooting him a withering stare. “Enjoy your meal and the fine company of your siblings.”

Donovan hadn’t wanted to bring them along when he’d decided to pop in for dinner tonight. Well, not entirely true. He never minded Mal tagging along, not even when he’d been twelve and she an annoying seven-year-old, but he could have done without Owen, who had already hit on both the server and the hostess and was even now eyeing up the bartender.

But he supposed they provided a better cover story than the one he’d come up with on his own. That he just happened to be in the neighborhood when what he really wanted was to see Julia.

He’d debated sending the wine. It was a vintage bottle, one from his private collection. Not the sort of thing he generally sent to staff no matter their level in the company hierarchy. But there was something different about Julia. A fact he’d been forced to acknowledge that night at Elephants
when, instead of going home and enjoying an athletic and gratifying bout of sex with Tatiana, he’d sent her off with the clear disclosure that while he’d enjoyed dating her, he didn’t see it going any further and saw no point in continuing.

“I’m not working,” he said and forked up another bite of his meal. He’d selected the steak frites despite Owen’s advice that if he was going to be stubborn and not get the coq au vin blanc, he should choose the boeuf bourguignon. And he was perfectly satisfied with his meal. “I’m just looking around.”

“You’re making mental notes. And, Owen,” Mal said, turning her attention to him, “stop flirting with the staff and pay attention. Maybe if you thought about business once in a while instead of your sex life, you’d be able to convince Donovan to give you that promotion you want.”

Donovan blinked at his brother. “You want a promotion?”

A flash of panic tightened Owen’s face before it smoothed out into his usual laissez-faire expression. “Of course not. I don’t know what Mal’s talking about.”

But Donovan wasn’t sure he believed him. Still, he didn’t chase his brother down. Owen had shown little interest in the business. While Donovan and Mal had worked summers in the office and gone to university to learn skills that would help them one day take over the business, Owen had preferred to spend his time lounging at the beach and had flunked out of university after two semesters.

Even now, while Donovan and Mal held management positions that helped shape the future of the company as a whole, Owen seemed content to manage Elephants. It was a mind-set that Donovan simply couldn’t understand, and he’d long since given up trying.

He understood that Owen might not be interested in the food-and-wine industry. He might not even be interested in business. But Owen didn’t seem to be interested in anything else, either. He flicked from hobby to hobby and woman to woman like a butterfly. Barely settling anywhere long enough to get a feel for the surface, let alone mine the depths. But that wasn’t Donovan’s problem. So long as Owen managed to keep Elephants
running, he would leave him be.

They talked about other things. How their father was doing, the local sports teams, a ski vacation Owen was planning on taking next weekend. “And then maybe somewhere tropical.” Owen looked at Mal. “I thought I might go and visit Travis.” Owen and Travis had always gotten along well, far better than Owen and Donovan.

Donovan saw the way his sister seized up at the mention of Travis’s name, though she covered it well, smoothing her napkin and picking up her wineglass without the slightest shake. Yes, there was definitely something going on, but she didn’t seem inclined to talk about it, and Donovan wasn’t about to bring it up here. He changed the subject, noting the release of his sister’s shoulders.

The conversation meandered after that, and Donovan was grateful when their server came by to ask if they’d like anything else.

“Yes,” Owen said. “Could you ask the chef to come out? I’d like to give her my compliments personally.”

Donovan felt something strange and sharp bite through him. Owen shouldn’t be asking for Julia, implying that he was the one who knew her. He glared at his brother. Kept glaring when Julia came out, looking warm and sexy, and allowed Owen to kiss her on the cheek and then kissed him in return.

“Julia, I’d like to introduce you to my sister, Mallory.” The two women greeted each other with a friendly smile and murmured pleasantries. “And you know Donovan.”

Julia’s gaze barely flicked to him, fluttered over like nothing. It cut. He wasn’t used to being passed over and he decided he didn’t care for it.

“How was your meal?” Julia didn’t even mention the bottle of wine, which surprised him. Unless she hadn’t received it?

No, he knew it had arrived. He’d insisted on a signature upon delivery and recognized Sasha’s name. While Donovan didn’t know her well, he found it highly unlikely that Sasha would have forgotten to give Julia the bottle or kept it for herself, which meant Julia didn’t want to acknowledge it. Or him.

His brother was practically falling all over himself and Julia, praising the excellence of the meal. Mal was a little more circumspect, but she was incredibly complimentary, too. Of course, they hadn’t had their gifts ignored.

“Did you like your gift?” Donovan said when Julia finally looked at him.

She jolted. “Yes, thank you. The staff and I enjoyed it very much.”

She’d shared it with her staff? The thousand-dollar bottle he’d handpicked from his stash to give to her personally had been passed around the kitchen? But even as the thought flashed through his mind, Donovan could appreciate the magnanimity of her gesture. What better way to show people how much you appreciated them than by sharing your good fortune, which was exactly what he’d done with her. He’d just hoped she might return the favor by sharing the bottle with him. “I’m glad to hear it.”

Julia nodded, a light flush rising on her cheeks. “Well, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to the kitchen.”

“Of course,” Donovan said before Owen could. He watched her walk away, the sway in her step that made him forget all about the skinny blondes of his past. Tatiana who?

“I didn’t know we were sending wine to our staff now.”

“We’re not.” This was a personal gift from him. But he didn’t tell his sister that. And he wasn’t even sure what had brought on the generosity. He needed to concentrate on getting the restaurant up to par so that when he managed to get his father’s agreement to sell, they could list the property immediately. He needed to focus on work. They all did.

Donovan glanced at his brother, who was smiling at the bartender across the room. “Owen.” His voice was sharper than he’d intended, but first Julia and then the bartender? Was there anyone safe from Owen’s charms? “Don’t you have to work tonight?”

Owen should be on-site at Elephants,
making sure everything was running smoothly, not sitting in a restaurant. He didn’t appear upset by Donovan’s tone. “I’m heading over after dinner. The staff can handle things without me.”

Donovan was sure they could, since the assistant manager at Elephants
was incredibly competent. She could probably handle the Apocalypse without batting an eye. Still, that didn’t excuse Owen from his work. If he wanted to get paid, he needed to put in the hours. “You’re expected to be there—”

“I haven’t had a day off in two weeks and I’m working tonight. Okay?” Owen patted his lips and then rose. “If it makes you happy, I’ll go now.”

But Donovan noticed that Owen stopped by the bar, charmed the woman working behind it, and chatted with the hostess on his way out. Donovan wouldn’t have minded any of that. Owen’s people skills were his greatest attribute. But when Donovan saw Julia duck back out of the kitchen and head straight toward his brother, saw them hug and kiss each other once more, his hands fisted.

No. His brother was welcome to spread his charm across the city. He could date a different woman every night. He could bring them into his bar and comp them drinks and food all night. But he could not date Julia. Hell, no. Donovan had just gotten her to sign a contract. He wasn’t about to have Owen risk that for a quickie.

But he kept his aggravation hidden under a polite smile. This was nothing to get into now. Especially since he’d be sure that it wouldn’t amount to anything.

Donovan and Mal chatted about work for a while, and when their server came by to ask if they’d like anything else, he ordered dessert and coffee. Just getting the full meal experience provided by the restaurant. And if he got another look at Julia, that would be okay, too.

Mal declined. “I’m exhausted,” she told him. “If I have coffee this late, I’ll be up all night.” She did look tired.

“We can go, then.” He started to lift a hand to call for the check and cancel the dessert.

“No, no.” Mal waved a hand. “You stay.” She stood and came over to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Enjoy the dessert. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He considered leaving anyway. He didn’t need the dessert, but he really should try to get a handle on the customer service provided by La Petite Bouchée
.

Instead of remaining at the table, he caught the server’s attention and said he’d like his coffee and dessert at the bar. The server nodded and walked him over, making certain he had everything he needed before disappearing. Donovan was impressed. Julia had trained her staff well and the food was excellent, which would make his job much easier.

The bar stool he was on was rickety and the cushioning was almost nonexistent, but the bar was clean and the woman behind it was friendly. She answered all of Donovan’s questions knowledgeably, keeping an eye on the other customers and segueing between all of them easily.

While he sipped his coffee, Donovan studied the beer-and-wine list. Satisfactory, but with the number of craft breweries and boutique wineries that permeated the West Coast, Donovan knew it could be better.