Seducing the Chef (At First Sight #1) Read online

  Seducing the Chef

  At First Sight

  By Janet Lane-Walters

  Digital ISBNs:

  EPUB 9781771458849

  Kindle: 9781771458856

  WEB/PDF 9781771458863

  PRINT ISBN 9781771458870

  Copyright 2016 by Janet Lane Walters

  Cover Art 2016 by Jasmin Attalla

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  Chapter One

  Morning sun streamed through the wide windows of the lower floor office of Five Cuisines. Greg Ramsey typed the last item on the week’s menus. He checked the list of supplies needed and sent orders to the various venues. Monday mornings when the restaurant was closed had become his planning day.

  He loaded the heavy paper in the printer and began the process of producing the menus for each of the five rooms. As the papers slid from the printer he heard a light tapping at the door.

  “Come in.”

  When his mother entered he rose and lightly hugged her. “Your timing is perfect. Just finished creating the menus for the week.”

  Stella Ramsey, tall, slender with a gray streak in her dark hair, kissed his cheek. “How is my handsome son?”

  “Pleased with our success.” Six months ago they had opened the restaurant and they were on their way toward becoming a profitable venture. For the past month there had been few empty tables at either evening seating. Even on Wednesday and Thursday they’d been solidly booked. The weekend brunches were gaining the attention of people who came to browse in the antique shops and other unusual stores in the Hudson River village.

  He reached for the letter that had arrived last week. The offer could make or break his dream. He knew little about the magazine Good Eatin’ other than a spread was eagerly sought by the nation’s restaurants. As his silent partner, his mother had a voice in whether they should chance a bad review.

  “What was so important you asked me to cancel my lunch date?” She smiled. “Please tell me you’ve found a weekend hostess.”

  He shook his head. “The job is yours until you say you’ve had enough.”

  “Might be soon.”

  He arched a brow. “Something serious happening in our life.”

  She laughed. “You’ll be the first to know. What about you? Have you met the woman of your dreams and the one who will make me happy?”

  “When do I have time?”

  “Make time. Several of the sous chefs are young and attractive. Ask one of them out.”

  He held up a hand. “Not going there. They’re taken and I only poach eggs and a few other foods.”

  She sat on the chair beside his desk. “So what’s the news you’re bursting to tell?”

  He handed her the letter. “This arrived the other day. The offer could be a sweet opportunity”

  As she read he studied her face. Her expression changed like the weather. His mother’s beauty always made him smile. He’d always wondered why she hadn’t married again. Had she mourned her father for fifteen years? He recalled the nights when he’d been awakened by their angry voices raised in accusations.

  She touched the silver streak in her dark hair. She scowled. “You will not let those people near Five Cuisines. I won’t have them here.”

  The venom in her voice surprised him. “Why not? I hear a feature in Good Eatin’ will place us among the top restaurants in the country.”

  “I won’t let him use his magazine to destroy you the way he ruined your father’s dreams.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Peter Blakely, editor of Good Eatin’ of the Good Magazine Group, deliberately used his wife’s magazine to destroy Le Provencal.”

  Greg rose and went to her side. He’d been sixteen when the tragedy had occurred. His father’s suicide had brought drastic changes in their lives. “Why would this Blakefield do that?”

  She stared at her hands. “Your father told me his family and Peter’s had been at odds since they arrived in this country during the colonial days. Your father and Peter became rivals in high school. I met Peter in college. We fell in love and were engaged but we had a fight. I broke the engagement. Peter wanted no part of my parents’ restaurant. Victor heard about the break-up and comforted me. He went to work for my parents and we were married. Peter was furious. He threatened to destroy Victor. He waited for years until he found the right time and he succeeded.”

  “How?” Greg met her gaze.

  “He wrote dreadful articles about the food and the ambience. Victor had made changes in the décor and the menu. People stopped coming. The shame caused your father to take his life. Victor had always been mercurial and volatile. When he drank depression brought him low.”

  “Do you have copies of these articles?”

  “Your father wouldn’t let me read them. He burned them. Promise you won’t let these people near Five Cuisines.”

  Greg looked away. Her comments disappointed him. Until he learned more about this feud he would hold off sending a letter of regret. “Are you sure this is the right decision?”

  She looked away. “Yes.”

  There was more to her story but he wouldn’t pry. He took the letter from her, folded the paper and placed it with the envelope in the center drawer. “I’ll handle this later. About the feud. Is there any reason for us to be involved?”

  “Drop the idea of a feature. Peter Blakefield doesn’t forgive or forget.” She rose and walked to the door.

  He had no idea how to discover what had been said about his father of Le Provencal. He didn’t want to slam the door on an opportunity. Maybe she would change her mind. He shook his head. An ancient family rivalry. How medieval.

  * * *

  Allie Blakefield stormed into her father’s office. “What is the meaning of this memo?” She slammed the offensive paper on her desk. Last week she’d submitted her plans for the six issues starting in January. “Let me read the memo. “Good Eatin’ will have no good or bad words for Five Cuisines, a restaurant owned by the Ramsey family.’”

  Peter Blakefield ran his hands through his thick blond hair where a few streaks of gray could hardly be seen. “The memo is clear and you will honor the terms. There has been bad blood between the families for generations.”

  Allie laughed. “Is this like the Hatfields and the McCoys? I thought as editor of Good Eatin’ I make decisions about the restaurants to be featured.”

  “In this case I’ve over-ruled you.” He leaned across the desk. “How was California?”

  Allie’s hands fisted. His change of subject rankled but she knew he’d told her all he planned to say about the Ramsey family. She would discover a way to learn more.

  “Warm. Some good food and some bad. The restaurants have been selected and the photo shoots arranged.” She curled in the chair across from his desk. “Why can’t I visit Five Cuisines? I’ve heard dozens of raves from people who have eaten there. Some family fight from years ago is a poor reason not to do a feature.”

  “Forget that restaurant. I made a similar decision fifteen years ago.”

  She frowned. Fifteen years ago her mother had been ill and had died. Back then her father had edited Good Eatin’. He’d become editor in chief for all four magazines and a single parent of four children. What else had happened then? Her curiosity simmered but knew he wouldn’t tell her more. “I still want to scout
the place.”

  “I said no. Stop pushing. Don’t you understand no means no.” He slapped the desk. “Have the galleys for the next issue been proofed?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then I’ll see you on Sunday for dinner.”

  Allie rose and turned toward the door. “I’m not sure I can make it.” Though Sunday dinners were a family affair, usually one or more of her siblings were absent.

  “Try.”

  “Always do,” His command followed her down the hall. She entered her office and slammed the door. Vowing to learn more about her father’s reasons for meddling in her territory she dialed her aunt’s number. When the older woman answered Allie grinned. Time for questions and answers. “Aunt Laura, what can you tell me about the Blakefield-Ramsey feud?”

  Her aunt laughed. “Why now? That ended when Victor died. His wife took their son to her family in Europe. Never heard of them since.”

  Allie leaned back in her chair. She talked about the restaurant and the raves she’d heard from people who had eaten there. “I want to feature the place. He forbade me to go near Five Cuisines or do an article.”

  Laura chuckled. “So he waved a red flag and like a bull you’ll charge.”

  “Yes, but I need the facts.”

  “I’ll tell you as much as I can. Let me refresh my coffee.”

  “Guess I’ll need some.” Allie filled her cup.

  “The feud began over loyalties during the Revolutionary War. They were Royalists and we were Rebels. There were ups and downs. All signs of the rivalry disappeared during the Civil War.”

  “So why now?” This whole matter was ridiculous.

  “Your dad and Victor attended County Day School. They were rivals in sports and academics. This followed them to college where they fell in love with the same woman. She and Peter were engaged but Victor married her.”

  Allie’s spine stiffened. “What about Mom? Didn’t Dad love her? Did he marry her or the magazines?”

  Her aunt sighed. “Peter married her on the rebound. They learned to value each other and I believe he loved her. When she died he was devastated.”

  “Nothing explains today’s attitude about me doing a feature. The past can’t be changed. Shouldn’t trouble the now.”

  Laura’s voice took on a knowing tone. “I know. This might give you a clearer picture. Several months before your mom died Victor Ramsey lost his restaurant. He killed himself. His wife blamed your father.”

  Hearing the final bit didn’t make sense to Allie. “Thanks for the info. Bye.” She hung up.

  The situation belonged in the dark ages. She couldn’t see why Good Eatin’ couldn’t do a spread on the most unusual restaurant in the area. A dining spot that produced raves by bloggers and reviews by customers intrigued her.

  She clenched her teeth. No matter what her father ordered she intended to visit the restaurant. She leaned back in her chair and made a decision. She had some accumulated vacation time. The latest edition was done and the next still being worked on. This was a good time to take a few days. The thought of driving across the bridge for five days in a row didn’t thrill her but she would unless she found another way.

  She booted her computer and searched the employee base for someone who lived on the west bank of the Hudson River. She found several, read the names and tapped an extension. One of the names belonged to a good friend. A deep voice answered.

  “Steve, Allie here. When do you leave for Alaska?”

  “Tuesday evening. Why?”

  “Do you have a guest room?”

  “Yes.”

  “Could I sack out there for five nights while you’re away? I promise I won’t snoop.”

  He chuckled. “You I trust. You’re too direct to be a snoop. Meg’s the one who pries. What’s up?”

  “I want to check Five Cuisines.”

  “You’ll love the restaurant. When you do I want to shoot the pics.”

  “This is only a preliminary look. Keep what I’m doing tucked away.”

  “Will do. The apartment is yours.”

  “Just where is your place?”

  He gave her the number. “Just a few blocks from your destination.”

  “Perfect.”

  “While you’re in town wander around. There are some neat shops and several other good restaurants.

  “Sounds like I’ll have a busy time. Where do I find the key?”

  “I’ll drop it off tomorrow and alert the doorman to your arrival,” he said. “Oh, I have a new neighbor. He’s a good-looking guy. Just your type.”

  “And just what is my type?”

  Steve laughed. “Not me.”

  “Which apartment?”

  “Directly below mine. If you score, I want a finder’s fee. He seems to be the strong silent type.”

  She grinned. “You’re outrageous. See you tomorrow.”

  * * *

  Allie tied her sneakers and walked to the sliding doors leading to the apartment’s balcony. She’d arrived in the Hudson River village late last evening and settled in. Before Steve left he’d made her reservations at Five Cuisines for her under the name she used when scouting restaurants. The reservations were for the six PM seatings for five nights in each of the rooms.

  She drew a deep breath of air not redolent with city odors. She walked to the railing. A warm early June breeze caressed her skin. Cloud puffs scudded across the blue sky. Several sailboats glided past. She watched until they neared the Tappan Zee Bridge.

  A sound caught her attention and she looked down. If this was the neighbor Steve had mentioned he had been right. The man was definitely her type. He wore black work-out silk pants and flowed from one Yoga position to another. His tanned sculpted body was glorious. Her blood stirred.

  She sucked in a breath. A man who looked as fabulous surely had been claimed years ago. Her last relationship had died four months ago and no one had appeared. The constant jetting about the country wasn’t conducive to long term relationships.

  Face it. None of the men she’d dated in the past had made her want to remain earth-bound.

  Though she had planned to walk to town for coffee, to browse in the shops and see what the local restaurants might offer for lunch she couldn’t move. She leaned on the railing and drooled. Her gaze focused on his broad shoulders, tight rear and muscular legs. His dark hair touched his shoulders. Was his face as striking as his body?

  He turned. A long sigh escaped. Definitely easy on the eyes. Too bad she couldn’t see his hands to search for a ring. If he’d been hers she would have banded him with a broad one.

  If you lean over the railing one more inch you’ll end up in flight. Though falling into his arms seemed a novel way to meet there was no guarantee he would catch her without one of them breaking bones.

  At that moment he looked up. Their gazes met. She felt the impact to her toes. Yes, yes. Those words formed a mantra in her head. Her breath caught in her throat.

  “Hello. Though my neighbor was off on a trip.”

  She grasped the metal railing. “He’s off to Alaska. He offered me a place to stay while I’m in town doing research.” Surely the man’s eyes were as dark as the midnight sky.

  “Are you a writer?”

  “You could say that.” After all, she wrote all the feature stories.

  “Need help with your research?”

  She released her grip on the railing. His voice sizzled along her skin. She’d better move away before she propositioned him. A foolish move. “At the moment no but I’ll let you know if I do. Right now I’m off to explore the town.”

  “See you around.”

  “I’m sure you will.” Allie backed into the sliding doors. She rubbed her rear. Boy was she rattled. She laughed at the foolish ideas circling in her thoughts. She ducked inside. From his approach, chances were he was single. Did she want a short-term involvement with a stranger? The way her body pulsed and the direction of her thoughts all pointed to yes.

  Slow down.

>   She slid her small bag over her shoulder, tucked the apartment key inside and left. On the ground floor she glanced at the number of the hot guy’s apartment. Maybe she could learn his name from the mailboxes. As she reached the lobby she made a face. The boxes were in a locked room. She didn’t have the key.

  Just my luck.

  She waved to the doorman and strode up the hill to Main Street. As she strolled toward town the aroma of coffee drew her to a storefront where several tables stood on the wide sidewalk. She read the name on the door and chuckled. The Coffee Mug.

  When she entered the scent of freshly baked bread blended with the rich aroma of coffee drew her to the counter. Trays of rolls, a variety of breads and assorted cookies lined the showcase shelves. She ordered a coffee to go and promised herself she would stop on the way back to the apartment for a loaf of rye bread, some rolls and a small bag of ground coffee.

  As she continued her exploration she sipped the amazing brew. The variety of small shops selling books, antiques, chocolates, dollhouses and jewelry. Restaurants were interspersed with the stores. At each eatery she paused to read the menus. Some tempted. Lunches became a matter of choice. Maybe Five Cuisines wasn’t the only game in town.

  A window display made her gasp with joy. The Peekaboo Boutique. She dropped the coffee cup in a trash container at the edge of the sidewalk and pressed her nose against the window. Mentally she flipped a two-headed coin and won. Lingerie was her downfall and many of the items on display were unique and sexy. The bras and bikini bottoms seemed to have been painted by hand with flowers and butterflies. As she opened the door a bell tingled.

  A middle-aged woman pushed through a beaded curtain with clacking and bell tones. “Hello, Welcome to Peekaboo. I’m Peggy Lou. New in town?”

  “Just visiting but I’m fascinated with everything I see.”

  “What would you like a closer view of?”

  Allie laughed. “Everything. Let’s start with those lace up thigh high stockings and a matching teddy.”