Just Add Spice

To Tad, Jenna said, “I like all the memories Rafe and I made. I mention them to him from time to time. He hasn’t forgotten a single thing, a single detail.”

“You could have a very good life with him,” Tad told her in a quiet voice. “If you’d stop running from it.”

“I know. Only this time, Tad, I’m not running.” She stared him in the eyes and said, “I didn’t want to leave. But I can’t let other people down when I’ve given them my word.”

“You gave him your word once too.”

Jenna glanced away. “And he gave me his word, Tad. To love me for better or for worse. But when the tough times set in, he cut me loose.”

Tad fell silent as the attendant served them cocktails. He took a quick drink, then gently said, “There’s a saying that goes hand in hand with that.”

Her gaze snapped back to him. “What? He set me free?”

Tad’s ebony eyebrow lifted. “And how difficult do you think that was for the poor man?”

She slumped against her seat.

“Pretty damn difficult, I’d say,” Tad told her. “Considering how much he loves you.” He set his glass on the armrest between them with the slide-out tray and added, “Thing is, he’s got to realize he could also be more proactive in making your relationship work.”

Jenna eyed her best friend curiously. “I don’t know what else more he could do, Tad. He’s always been there for me. And it’s quite obvious he’s been showing me all along that I’ve got a place to return to. If I want.”

“I think you do want to consider San Francisco your home. But you’re still a free-spirit, sugar plum. And that’s something the man is going to have to accept.”

* * *

The Vandenberg project was a nightmare of epic proportions. But Jenna had anticipated that, given the reputation that preceded the infamous, surly chef of three New York restaurants, Neil Vandenberg.

But his son, Mason, was a dedicated manager of the flailing flagship and he’d stepped up to ensure Jenna, Tad and her crew had the opportunity to do everything they could with the money Mason had set aside for the remodel. They’d all parted on amiable terms, with a revitalized customer base for the restaurant.

Then Jenna and Tad moved onto Texas. In a traditional steakhouse with a savory, smoky scent drifting on the air, she found it hard to believe the patronage had dwindled to almost nil. Then she’d met the wait staff. What a collective train wreck. Orders were constantly incorrect. Food was deposited carelessly on tables before diners. Cold beers were left sitting on the bar, waiting so long for pickup that they turned warm.

A week into the rescue operation and Jenna found herself at the hotel bar with a raging headache. She sat in a quiet corner, breathing in the jasmine-scented candle that flickered in the dim lighting. The bartender appeared at her elbow and set next to her a free-standing chiller with champagne in it.

“Compliments of Mr. Montgomery. He said he’s running late.”

Of course. He was looking at artwork for the restaurant, and that always diverted his attention. Yet the bartender set two crystal flutes on the table.

“I’ll just need the one glass,” she said. “He’s looking at paintings and that means much more than simply running late.”

The bartender grinned. “I’ll leave the extra glass just in case.”

He poured Jenna some of the bubbly and she sipped while scrolling through messages on her iPad.

“So this is how you spend your nights when you’re not with me.”

Her head snapped up at the deep, intimate voice that instantly seeped into her soul.

“Rafe.” Her heart slammed against her ribcage. Her pulse soared. The mere sight of him brought tears to her eyes.

Jenna was on her feet in an instant. She threw her arms around him, to hell with whoever noticed.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, breathless.

Rafe held her firmly as he said, “It occurred to me that I always expect you to come to me. Why the hell haven’t I ever come to you?”

“Oh, God, Rafe.” The tears fell fast. She tightened her hold on him. Her heart swelled with emotion.

“Jen,” he whispered. “I have people in place at the restaurant who can cover for me—and I trust them explicitly. Why the hell can’t I hop a plane and meet you somewhere for a night or two, especially when you’re close by?”