Chapter Four
Ransom was seated behind his desk, his office door open. Which was why he heard and saw the commotion. A beautiful woman with hair the color of garnets pushed past his two assistants.
“Ma’am, you can’t—”
“Please, we need to—”
She answered imperiously, “I can and I will,” with a slight curve of her lips.
He’d know that luscious voice anywhere. Still heard it in his dreams, in fact, though he hadn’t spoken to her in fifteen years. He’d seen her at Gideon Jones’s New Year’s Eve gala in Napa, but somehow she’d eluded an actual meeting.
He’d followed her career through tidbits Dane Harrington had shared. Proud of his two sisters and two brothers, Dane often spoke of them. Ransom had also read articles in business magazines about her company’s meteoric rise in the senior living and health management field.
He’d met her when she was still working at a nursing home, but he’d known even then that Ava Harrington was a determined woman. She had brought her dreams to life.
And she was still his dream woman.
There’d been times he might have thought about standing on her doorstep and asking, What went wrong? Why did it all just end in the blink of an eye? But he never had.
He flashed back to the first time he’d seen her. As he sat by his grandmother’s chair, talking with her, laughing, Ava had walked into the room. She was twenty-one, and he was ten years older, but the age difference hadn’t mattered.
His heart and every other part of him had said, It’s you.
Feeling the same thing now as she marched into his office, he wondered how he could have buried all of this for so many years. She stole his breath, she stole his voice, she even stole his ability to think. He could only look.
She was sexy as hell in a tailored business suit that hugged her backside when she turned to close the door. Her heels were so sharp she could stab him right in the heart. Her legs were long and shapely, the suit jacket molded to her beautiful breasts, her hair pulled back in a knot that made him want to pull out every pin, one by one, and let it fall like silk over his fingers.
In that moment, he wanted her so damn bad, he ached deep inside.
She was a beautiful, intelligent, determined woman. Even more than she’d been at the tender age of twenty-one.
Back then, he couldn’t get enough of her fast enough, even as he’d poured all his energy into his career. He’d made decisions at thirty-one that seemed right for him at the time, even if they were wrong for their relationship. His career was paramount, and he’d done what he had to do. That’s what he’d been telling himself all this time. He hadn’t wanted to squash her dreams, but he’d absolutely had to go for his.
But he’d never forgotten Ava. When she left him, it hurt like hell, even as over the years he’d acted the ultimate chef playboy, indulging in a few affairs, some with the groupies who came with fame. But none of that truly meant anything.
Not after Ava.
Work and his career had been his solace, and he’d put everything into it. He’d still had so much to prove back then. But he’d done it. He’d reached the pinnacle.
But he’d reached it alone.
Poleaxed by all the memories and feelings, by her, standing in his office, up close and personal, so beautiful, so desirable, so perfect, he had to ask himself: Did I make a mistake?
* * *
They didn’t need to exchange pleasantries. She and Ransom weren’t buddies. They weren’t even enemies—though at one time she’d thought she hated him. She didn’t now. She hadn’t for a long time. She was just angry.
And she was even angrier at the way the sight of him affected her.
His tailored white dress shirt fit his chest snugly and showed off his perfect muscles, his toned physique. She’d thought his picture on the bus might have been airbrushed, but no. He was really that handsome, with a few more lines maybe, but they only enhanced his features. His dark hair was frosted with the slightest, sexiest bit of silver, and his eyes were such a dark mocha they were almost black.
As he sat back casually in his chair and steepled his fingers, her heart wanted to pound right out of her chest. Her body had an instant reaction to him, the way it always had in that first moment when he returned from a business trip or she came in late from a night class. They could barely get out of their clothes before they were in bed.
But that was long, long ago. She wouldn’t allow herself to feel that way now.
“I’m assuming—” Even his deep, sexy voice made her want to melt right there in front of him. “—that you need something pretty damn bad, because clearly I’m the last person you’d come to.”
His voice was calm, without inflection. He didn’t even sound antagonistic.
She answered the only way she could. “Right on both counts.”
But there was something else going on behind his hooded gaze and in the way she’d caught him looking at her after she’d closed the door.
Her outfit had the exact effect she’d wanted. As she’d turned, she could almost sense his tongue falling out of his mouth. The suit, the high heels, her hair, her makeup—she’d wanted to make him drool; she’d wanted him to see all that he’d given up.
It had worked. She felt utterly triumphant.
And horribly conflicted.
If he really meant nothing to her, then why did she have to shove her sensuality in his face? Was it revenge? Or did she have secret hopes they could start again?
Of course she didn’t. She couldn’t. But she also admitted that her plan had backfired. She was the one drooling over him.
Because Ransom Yates was still the sexiest man alive. Dammit.
If his face on the side of a bus gave her heart palpitations, standing this close to him, with only his desk between them, turned her completely combustible.
But she couldn’t let him know that.
“If it wasn’t the best reason in the world,” she drawled, “you’d better believe I would never walk in here.”
He might think the slap-down was for him. But truly, it was for herself. She absolutely could not allow her emotions to get muddled over him. She’d tried to forget him, tried to numb all those latent feelings bubbling inside her. He’d pretty-womaned her, he’d deemed her dreams and goals unimportant compared to his, and yes, dammit, she was still angry.
But in the moment of seeing him, after scenting him—something slightly spicy and all male that was uniquely him—after being wowed by his potent sexuality, more than anger, she was wary of her own feelings resurfacing.
She absolutely could not allow herself to want a man who’d rejected her. She was beyond that.
He rose. “I’m waiting with bated breath to hear all your reasons.”
I’m waiting with bated breath.He used to say that to her over the phone, when he was at the airport or driving back to her, when she was leaving class to come home to him. When he couldn’t wait to get his hands on her. With a superhuman effort, she didn’t allow the memory to thaw a single chip of the ice inside her.
He rounded his big desk and headed to the sideboard along the wall opposite the full-length windows. Filled with a variety of machines—microwave, coffee maker, espresso maker (was that a waffle iron?)—it was everything a celebrity chef could want.
She’d been so intent on him that she hadn’t even glanced around his office. The carpet was plush beneath her shoes, her heels sinking slightly into the pile. Everything was made of rich mahogany, from the desk to the conference table to the end tables and coffee table. The buttery soft leather sofa was inviting enough to fall asleep on.
Or to make love on.
The small collection of paintings on the walls made her mouth dry up. Was that a Degas?
But it was the view from the top-floor windows that almost blinded her with its brilliance. Was it better than hers? The sun sparkled on the bay waters, and sailboats drifted across its glassy surface as if they’d been painted there. From the corner office, she could see all the way from the Golden Gate to the Bay Bridge.
Behind her, the steamer frothed in whatever brew he was preparing, then she smelled the pungent aroma of a perfect chai.
How could he remember her favorite café drink after all this time? Chai latte. He’d probably made it to throw her off balance.
He carried two mugs to the conference table, a design expertly rendered in the foam on top. For a moment, she thought it was a heart, but realized quickly it was a leaf. Thank God. She couldn’t have handled a heart.
As she took a seat before that glorious view, her first thought was to ignore the latte, but that might reveal her roiling feelings. Picking up the mug, she savored the brew and, in the process, showed him she was totally over him. Setting it down, she said, “It’s as good as you always made them.” Smiling, she added the zinger. “I’ve trained my barista to make them the same way.” She’d found a replacement in one area, at least.
“You were so good at training me to do it the way you liked it.”
Was that a sexual innuendo? Definitely. It set her pulse racing all over again.
She’d never trained anyone to duplicate the sensual things he’d done with her. She hadn’t even tried. Because his talents in bed were innate. He’d always known just how to touch her, exactly where, and for how long.
Something lit up his eyes as he sipped his own latte. Something that said he knew the thoughts running through her mind. The sizzle of that look was like his fingers stroking her skin.
Oh yeah, she felt the sizzle. As much as she didn’t want to.
The man was the devil incarnate, always knowing exactly what to say at just the right moment. Until that last night. When he’d said all the wrong things.
She thought he might go on, sending out veiled innuendos, teasing her, testing her, but he sat back in his chair and smiled. “So how’s the family?”
She wanted to say something pithy. But what could possibly be pithy about that answer? “They’re all doing great. But you see Dane often enough. I’m sure he’s kept you up on everything Harrington.” Then she raised an eyebrow as if she were a teacher telling off a student. “But I’m not here for small talk.”
And she certainly wasn’t here to rehash their long-ago relationship.
Or to start it all over again just because she hadn’t been on a date in two years and no man had ever touched her, kissed her, pleasured her the way Ransom had.
* * *
Ransom thought he’d seen a spark there, for just a moment, a flame in her mesmerizing amber eyes that he wanted to fan into a conflagration.
But Ava Harrington turned all business right before his eyes. The CEO of an empire. The sight of her doing her thing made him even hotter.
He couldn’t help wondering what life would have been like if he’d never made that fateful offer.
“I have five Bay Area facilities,” she began.
She had over a hundred retirement communities, nursing homes, and senior care facilities around the country and was expanding internationally as well. Dane was extremely proud of everything his sister had accomplished. The man was proud of all his siblings, and he’d never been shy when talking about any of them. But it was talk of Ava that always pricked up Ransom’s ears. He wondered if Harrington had ever suspected the affair. If he had, he’d never given a single sign during any of the events or projects they’d worked on together.
“And I need someone to take over the catering for those five facilities,” she said.
She paused long enough for him to wonder why only those. But then, it made sense to split up catering between regions. He said nothing, though, letting her go on.
“I’d like you to design menus for older adults. We can’t have food that’s too exotic. They need meat and potatoes, but they also need nutrition. But most of all, they need to feel like food is something to be enjoyed during their later years.”
There was the Ava he remembered. She’d always operated on a huge scale, not just with her job, but with her heart. Now that she’d brought her dreams to fruition, so much more was at stake for her residents.
He gave her a nod, indicating she should continue.
“We have breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and a snack bar in the afternoons where we offer things like soups, salads, and sandwich fillings. Something to tide people over until dinnertime or if they missed lunch altogether.”
He sat back, propped his ankle on his knee. “That all seems like a normal schedule. Definitely doable.”
Finally, she smiled, the beautiful smile he remembered playing on her lips. “They have their favorites too. We always have a hot-dog-and-beans day, a pizza day, something for them to look forward to. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard them say excitedly, ‘It’s hot dog day.’ One woman at my Los Gatos facility plans her daughter’s visits around hot dog day. Mrs. Anderson told me I can never cut out hot dogs, or her daughter might stop coming to visit.” She looked at him, her head tipped, a dazzling smile on her kissable lips, not the harshness she’d shown him when she walked in. “Her daughter would visit her anyway, but we like to joke about it. So you can see that it’s much more than just the food. It’s about the community.”
No, Ava hadn’t lost her huge heart. “What’s wrong with your current caterers?”
He saw the hesitation in her eyes. But the only thing she gave him was, “They no longer meet my company’s standards.” Holding his gaze, she added, “Or my residents’ needs.”
He waited, but she said nothing else. He’d have time to push her about the real reason later on. If he decided he could work with her.
“I’m assuming you’re not just talking about menus, but that you want procurement, preparation, and staffing for both kitchen and dining room as well.”
“Yes. I’ve always found that’s much more efficient than doing it all in-house. Our caterers also handle special events within the complexes, such as providing drinks and appetizers for recitals or lectures.”
In addition to the cookbooks, restaurants, and TV show, he catered special events—anything from elite private parties to huge galas like the one for Gideon Jones at Dane’s Napa resort. He also created menus for resorts, cruise ships, retreat centers, and more.
But this was an entirely new field for him. “You’re asking a lot.”
She picked up her latte, took a long swallow, then set it down again, the mug’s clink on the table sounding empty. “Yes, I am. But my residents deserve it.”
He understood completely. This was about her community, and that was everything to her. It was even in the name of her corporation: Harrington Community Care International. But he had to warn her. “This isn’t exactly what I do.”
Years ago, he’d done the cruise ship circuit, but then he’d been more concerned about enticing passengers, and his responsibility had been only the food.
“Maybe not, but it’s something you can do.” Maybe she was remembering his cruise days as well. “It could be a win-win for both of us—a new sector for you to move into. And it doesn’t have to be forever.”
Forever. What they’d never had. It had ended all too soon.
She went on, “I just need someone to fill in until I can do a more exhaustive search.”
“How long?”
She shrugged. “Three months? Six months? I don’t have an exact timetable. It depends on how soon I can find a suitable replacement.”
He looked at her a long moment, considering, the gears in his mind already engaging with the problem. Just as she had, he took a long swallow of his latte. Finally, he said, “We just wrapped up filming for the cooking show, so okay, I’ll do it. When do we start?”
He had the feeling she wanted to punch her fist in the air, but she maintained her cool fa?ade. “I need this done in two weeks.”
Oh, she’d gotten him. Hook, line, and sinker. Allowing him to say yes before she gave him the most pertinent detail. But then, he should have asked before he agreed.
Although it was Ava. He would have said yes anyway.
“I know you can do it.”
Was she pandering to his ego? Not that it mattered. He wanted more time with her, and this was the only way he’d get it.
She stood, bringing the meeting to an end. “I’ll have my assistant send you all the details.”
Even though she must have known the shock he felt at the two-week deadline, she was still trying to dictate the terms.
“I’ll only work with you personally.” He dealt the coup de grace. “Or the deal’s off.”
* * *
Ava should have known he’d play that card. He knew she was in a bind. But despite the shock she’d seen in his eyes when she’d said two weeks, he hadn’t backed down.
She, however, could fight back. “I have an extensive business to run. My assistant will be much more suited for the job.”
But he stood, shaking his head and smiling. “I run a vast business too. And this project will get done a lot faster if you and I work together. So that’s my deal—you or no one.”
Dammit. She was stuck with only one answer. She had to give it for the sake of her people. “All right. Fine. We’ll do it your way.”
When the words were said, she tamped down a secret little place inside her that was jumping up and down with joy.
God, when would she ever learn to crush her feelings for him? Except anger. But how could she be angry with the man who’d just agreed to bail her out of a mess?
She said the polite thing. “Thank you. I appreciate it. My situation is dire enough that we literally need to start tomorrow. I’ve got a company willing to handle two weeks for me, but that’s it. So the catering issue can’t linger.”
He nodded. “I’ll clear my schedule for this.” Was that triumph in his eyes? Probably. But she had no other choice.
She’d gotten exactly what she’d come for. With that one little exception of working personally with him. He truly had saved her, and she appreciated it more than he could ever know. She left him with another, “Thank you,” but as she turned for the door, she felt his eyes on her as she walked out.
From another man, it might have been creepy. But with Ransom, it felt more like—
She wouldn’t even think about what it felt like.
Striding from his office, she passed his two assistants, a man and a woman, who were still agog at the way she’d barged in. And at the fact Ransom hadn’t thrown her out.
In the elevator vestibule, she stabbed the button, watching the numbers flick up and taking way too long.
She felt him beside her before he said, “That’s the problem with being on the top floor. The elevator takes forever to get up here. Sometimes I just take the stairs.”
They both looked down at her shoes. No way could she take the stairs in her killer high heels.
He did not go away. “I look forward to working with you on this project.”
She simply smiled. Why was he being so friendly, making chitchat, when they’d already said everything that needed to be said back in his office?
Finally, finally, the elevator arrived, and she stepped inside the empty car. The doors were about to close when he smiled. Just that, saying nothing.
But that sexy smile on his lips hit all her buttons.
Though she tried to maintain control of her emotions, all he had to do was smile and her legs melted like butter in the sun.
Dammit. How easy it would be to fall for him again.
But that she would never do. Not ever.
At twenty-one, loving him more than she’d ever thought possible, she’d been crushed to know that when he looked at her, he saw nothing more than his mistress.
* * *
The elevator doors closed on his view of her.
Ransom had been so close to stepping in there with her. His brain felt muddled just standing beside her. Still wanting her. It took all his willpower to stop himself from touching her, kissing her, even from saying anything at all.
After fifteen years, he’d actually grown up a little, and he was emotionally aware enough to know that he needed to process this inconceivable situation. Not just her showing up in his office wanting him to work for her, but the stunning realization that he’d never truly forgotten her. Even as he watched the floor numbers descend, he recognized that she still blew any other woman he’d ever dated clear out of the water.
Damn, did I ever screw that up.
Slowly, thoughtfully, he walked back to his office. Since he was being totally honest with himself, he had to say he’d been thinking about her not only in sexual terms and the sparks he was sure still flew between them, but also as the woman she’d become. A woman to be reckoned with. She was nothing like the groupies he occasionally slept with out of sheer loneliness. Or the few women he’d met and dated through his work. Ava Harrington was a smart, confident, indomitable woman. The woman he’d walked away from. She’d accused him of treating her like his mistress, but she’d never been that.
And yet, had he seen her as the woman she would become in just a few years?
He’d wanted her in his life, had cared about her, but he hadn’t treated her as a strong-minded woman with plans and dreams. He hadn’t valued her the way she should have been valued.
Maybe he’d begun recognizing that as he listened to Dane’s tales about his siblings. He just hadn’t wanted to consider why he’d glommed on to every detail Dane revealed. She’d grown into a powerful woman, even more beautiful than he remembered, even more dazzling and brilliant than Dane had described.
And if she thought she could palm him off on her assistant, she had another thing coming.