at the two women and hoped it was friendly because that’s not the way she felt.
“It would be easier to tell you what’s not my favorite. If you’re in the mood for beef, the filet is excellent, practically melts in your mouth. And the sauce only enhances the flavor. I’m not a fan of lamb, but people who are rave about it here. The stuffed, grilled salmon is wonderful. And a little lighter, which would leave room for dessert.”
“Tell me the chocolate, sky-high cake I had in New York is a choice.”
“I don’t know if it’s the same, but there is one that will tempt you to lick crumbs off the plate.”
“That does it.” Miranda smiled in rapture. “Shane’s desserts are the best. I’ll have the salmon. Tell me about The Gallatin salad.”
“It’s greens with avocado, tomato and goat cheese in a very delicate dressing. So delicious you won’t believe it’s good for you.”
“You talked me into it.”
“Make it two,” Daisy said. “And a bottle of the Napa Valley Chardonnay.”
“Excellent choice.” Gianna smiled at the two women. “On behalf of Thunder Canyon Resort and The Gallatin Room, I’ll do everything possible to give you a perfect dining experience. If there’s anything you’d like, just let me know. It’s our goal to make this your ski vacation destination every year.”
“Shane being the chef here made the difference in our choice this time,” Miranda said.
“He’s really something.” Just what, Gianna wasn’t sure.
“Is he by any chance here now?” Miranda asked.
“Every night.”
“I’d love to say hello again.” She looked at her friend. “And Daisy has never met him.”
“I’ve certainly heard a lot about him,” the blonde said. “Do you think he would come by the table?”
“I can ask.” And that would give her an excuse to talk to him. “Although he’s pretty busy.”
“I understand. I’m not sure he’ll remember me, but my name is Miranda Baldwin.”
Gianna walked back to the kitchen and her heart was pounding at the thought of talking to Shane. Maybe it would break the ice. Give him a chance to say he’d just been too busy, up to his eyeballs in alligators what with Christmas parties and planning menu changes to shake things up with new dishes in January. It was a slim hope, but hope was something and a hard habit for her to break.
She went through the swinging doors into the kitchen and saw Shane directing the sous-chef. He shifted to the cutting board on the stainless-steel table across from the stove.
“Can I talk to you?” she asked, moving beside him.
“What is it?” There was no anger or irritation in his tone. In fact there was no emotion at all, which was worse.
If only the world would open now and swallow her whole. Gianna felt her hope balloon deflate. His non-reaction made it unlikely that he would mention their dinner or anything about spending time with her. It was like nothing had ever happened. Situational amnesia. If he wasn’t going to bring up the subject, neither would she.
“There’s a Miranda Baldwin in the dining room who says she knows you from New York and wondered if she could say hello. I told her you might be too busy—”
“I can do that.” He started toward the door and said over his shoulder, “Thanks.”
“For nothing,” she whispered under her breath.
In every serious relationship she’d had, the guy had strung her along and when it was time to fish or cut bait, she got cut. But Shane couldn’t get away from her fast enough, which was a first. Apparently bad dating karma had followed her from New York and mutated.
Clearly he wasn’t into her. Since she wasn’t into wasting any more time, that should make her happy. Somehow it didn’t.
Shane pushed through the double doors into the dining room and left Gianna behind in the kitchen with the hurt he’d caused evident in her eyes. She probably thought he was crazy and who could blame her? Certainly not him. He’d invited her to dinner, then stood with her looking at the night sky and wanting to kiss her more than he wanted his next breath. Every day since then he’d fought the urge to tug her into a secluded corner and see if her lips tasted as good as he imagined. There were times he wished he was as good with words as he was with food and this was one of those times.
He liked her, really liked her. The attraction was stronger than he’d felt in a very long time, maybe ever. He was still coming to terms with the truth about his father’s identity so, for Gianna’s sake, he wouldn’t start something that he could really mess up. Cooling things was for the best and judging by the look on her face when he’d left the kitchen so abruptly, he’d done an exceptional job of it. The depth of emotion he’d seen proved that even though it would be temporary, she could get hurt and he wouldn’t do that to her.
Looking over the bustling dining room a sense of satisfaction came over him. Revenue was up from this time a year ago and if that was because of him, he was glad. If the information about who his father was got out, that could keep him from drawing a local crowd, so he planned to enjoy this while it lasted.
Shane knew which tables Gianna had tonight and headed in that direction, then recognized Miranda. She was a beautiful brunette and asking her out had crossed his mind while he’d been in New York. Now she seemed ordinary compared to a certain redhead he wished he’d met while they’d both been there.
He stopped at the table. “Miranda, it’s good to see you again.”
“Shane.” She smiled. “You remember me.”
He didn’t feel especially charming, but it was said that trait was what had won the reality cooking show and launched his career. He dug deep for it now.
“Of course I remember.” He bent and kissed her cheek. “A woman like you is unforgettable.”
“Then maybe it was my phone number you forgot. You never called me.” Her eyes both teased and chastised.
“Believe me when I say that you’re better off.” It was easy to look sincere when telling the truth. “And there was no one else.”
“Contrary to what the tabloids said.”
“Because, of course, we all know that every word the rag sheets print is the honest truth.” He grinned to take any sting out of that statement. “Truly, I had no personal life. It was all about opening Roarke’s and keeping it open. I was practically working around the clock.”
The blonde at the table cleared her throat, demanding her share of attention. “Hello, Mr. Roarke. I’m Daisy Tucker.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Tucker.”
“Daisy. And the pleasure is all mine.”
He didn’t miss the flirty expression, the seductive tone, and there was a time when
