AllFreeNovel
Share Us
* * *
Jack sighed. While his own British voice accounted for much of his success with American women, over the years he had lost more skirt to that French accent than he'd eaten bowls of bouillabaisse. Laurent—brilliant sous chef, occasional best friend, and his most rigorous competition for the fairer sex—was the embodiment of the French lover. As good as he was in the kitchen, his talents would be just as well-suited to tourism commercials. All he needed was a beret, a baguette, and a box of condoms.
Jack’s head still hurt and weariness had set in bone-deep. He was sure he had lost consciousness for a few seconds in the fridge and now he battled the dizziness that threatened to engulf him. Coffee. That’s what he needed. Coffee and something to focus on. Something that wasn't curvy and soft-looking and radiating man-killer vibes.
“Any chance we can get on with what we were doing?” he sniped at Cara, more brusquely than he’d intended.
“Of course, Jack, babe. We'll let you continue.” Dragging her sister by the arm, Cara marched her out of the kitchen with a portentous, “Liliana Sophia DeLuca, a word in the office, if you please.”
Laurent stood with arms crossed, staring at the scene of departing female beauty. Jack eyed his friend. Here it comes.
“I think I'm in love,” Laurent groaned. “Is she not the cutest chérie you have ever seen?”
* * *
A laugh rumbled in Jack's chest. “That's the fourth time you've fallen in love this year and it's only June.”
“But did you not see her cute little nose wrinkle up when I offered her my hand? And that lovely derrière. What I wouldn't do for a piece of that.”
“She might have ‘zee lovely derrière,’ but she's got a dangerous bowling arm.” His fingers returned to the spot where the frying pan had connected. A bump was definitely forming.
Jack followed Laurent's gaze to the swing doors through which Cara and her sister had just exited. A sudden image of brushing his lips against Lili's and watching the pupils of those lovely eyes magnify in passion flitted pleasantly through his mind. It wasn't long before his imagination had wandered to stroking her inner thigh and inching below the hem of those tight, blue, shiny shorts.
Things were just getting interesting when the crash of a dropped serving pan knocked him back to the present. While Laurent muttered his apologies, Jack blinked to quell his overactive brain, the pain in his head briefly forgotten. Maybe he should apply that ice pack to his crotch.
Evie, his dragon-lady agent, had been clear. Think of the contract, Jack. Keep your head down and your nose clean. And whatever happens, do not engage the local talent. Right now,
that imminent network deal was the rocket that would propel his brand into the stratosphere. No more rinky-dink cable shit. Instead he would spread his message of affordable haute cuisine to as wide an audience as possible and garner fame for all the right reasons.
Which meant grasping women were an unnecessary distraction, even a tasty piece like Cara’s sister. He needed to forget about smart-tart birds with eyes and curves that would lead a good man, or one who was trying to be good, off the straight and narrow. After his last disastrous relationship, he wasn't looking to screw around with the help, even if she did have the best derrière in the Midwest.
Three
Lili trudged after Cara into the restaurant's back office, her focus on the platinum blonde cascade that swished from her sister’s ponytail. After three careful swipes of the swivel chair with a tissue from her purse, Cara sat, smoothing her cream silk skirt as she went.
“Nice costume,” she said with a knowing smile. “Jack seemed to like it.”
The absurdity of that statement canceled out the deceitful thrill Lili had felt while pinned by Jack Kilroy’s assessing gaze. She’d been right not to trust it. A man like that—too good looking, too charming, too everything—needed constant female attention to keep his ego afloat. Memories of her ex were still fresh: she’d been there, done that, bought the t-shirt.
Her long sweater hung on a hook inside the door, and she threw it on. “Have you seen Mom yet?”
Cara examined her nails, an avoidance tactic Lili immediately recognized because she was rather fond of using it herself. “I spoke to her on the phone. She sounds in good spirits. I was planning to drop over a gift later.”
Lili bit back a catty response. Cara’s ability to ignore the unpleasant was legendary and lately had become a source of ever-increasing resentment between them. Why bother to visit when nothing says ‘Congratulations on beating cancer, Mom’ better than a fancy gift basket, delivered weekly like clockwork? It was too late, or maybe too early, for a sister-on-sister confrontation. Besides, there was something about all that fragile beauty of hers that made it impossible to hate her properly. Lili needed to change the subject, though it would probably take some sort of power tool to chisel off the sour look she knew was cemented on her face.
“Cara, you could have warned me about the British Invasion.”
Her sister crossed her shapely legs and picked some imaginary fluff from her tulip-shaped skirt. Size zero or two, Lili was willing to bet, though she looked a little plumper than she had on visits past. Cara’s thinness was both an object of envy and awe, and Lili wondered how her sister retained such a rigid grip on her self-control. Occasionally, Lili speculated that Cara's distinctly non-Italian attitude to food could mean just one thing: her sister must have been adopted. If only.
She shrugged in that don’t-hate-me-‘cause-I’m-beautiful way of hers. “I talked to Il Duce last night and he's on board.”
Il Duce was the nickname for their father, coined to reflect his startling similarity to a certain Italian wartime dictator. Lili might be the de facto manager while her mother recovered, but her father was supreme ruler. She shouldn’t have been surprised that he’d make an end run on this. Standard operating procedure.
Lili knew she hadn’t hidden her hurt reaction in time by the way Cara quickly adopted a softer tone. “It's a once in a lifetime opportunity for the restaurant. Remember I told you we had Serafina's on Randolph lined up for the taping next week? Well, yesterday we find out they've
had to close for health code violations. Rats!” She waved her hands in the air as if she’d seen the vermin with her own innocent eyes. “We were scrambling to find an alternative and I suggested our place to Jack. To be honest, Jack's really grateful Dad can help out.”
In the five minutes Lili had spent with Jack Kilroy, gratitude was nowhere in evidence. In fact, he had acted like he was doing them the favor, though in reality, that wasn’t too far from the truth. Her earlier braggadocio about DeLuca’s healthy numbers couldn’t disguise the trouble they were in, a perfect storm of external pressures and internal entrenchment. They were lucky to boast eighty covers on a Saturday, never mind the buck and a half she’d tossed out back in the kitchen. Week nights were practically a ghost town. Classical Italian dining wasn’t quite in vogue anymore and as amazing as her father’s food was, it was getting harder to compete with the hipper, trendier eateries that had popped up all over Wicker Park. Lili had ideas for taking their game to the next level. Lots of ideas. But her autocratic father refused to play ball.
