demanded perfection.
“Impressive,” she commented. Normally gregarious and bent on putting people at their ease, she held herself in check. There wasn’t an ounce of emotion evident in her voice. She raised her eyes to his. “You seem to move around a lot.”
“Not a lot,” he countered. She noticed no trace of a regional-defining accent in his voice. “Just New York City and Dallas. I always wanted to see them,” he added in a tone that seemed unsettlingly intimate, as if he was sharing a secret with her. “And a man has to eat.”
“That’s what we’re counting on,” she responded in her most crisp, distant voice.
The open door wasn’t helping. The air stood still today. His eyes looked as if he could see right into her thoughts, her sudden vulnerability.
She liked to think of herself as a confident woman. Despite everything that had happened in her life, or maybe because of it, she hung on to confidence as if it were a cloak. It shielded her from unsettling situations. She worked hard to make sure that nothing interfered with that confidence and sitting across from this man with the bedroom-green eyes made her feel anything but.
She wanted to have as little to do with men like Jared Stevens as humanly possible.
Outstanding résumé or not, hiring him as assistant chef wouldn’t be wise. She wasn’t given to agonizing over her decisions, but she wasn’t prone to snap judgments, either. Except in this one sensitive area.
Maren made up her mind without bothering to call either of the two highly regarded restaurants he had listed, or the names he’d included under references.
He wasn’t going to get the job.
She’d sooner go with the woman who had come in yesterday. The small, chatty blonde was fresh out of cooking school and eager. Eager could be molded and taught. She knew that firsthand. She’d been eager. Once.
Jared leaned over and broke the pregnant silence. “Would you like to give me a test run?”
Maren’s head jerked up as surprise blossomed all through her. Was the man propositioning her in exchange for a job? “Excuse me?”
“In the kitchen.” He nodded his dark head toward the area just beyond the office. “Would you like me to cook something for you? I can whip up anything you name.”
Arrogant, just like Kirk.
Maren shored up her beaches. Turning someone down for a job was always done best swiftly, like ripping off a Band-Aid from a wound. Going slowly only prolonged everyone’s agony.
“No, I don’t think that’s going to be necessary. I’m really sorry, Mr.—” Stumbling, Maren glanced at the top of the form again. “Mr. Stevens. But—”
She saw him open his mouth, undoubtedly to argue her out of her decision or perhaps to bargain his way into a trial period, but just then a blood-freezing shriek filled the air. Maren’s eyes widened as she turned her head toward the source.
The shriek came from the kitchen.
Before she could gain her feet, the would-be chef whose interview she was terminating was dashing toward the origin of the sound.
Right behind him, she saw it the second she crossed the threshold into the kitchen.
Flames shot up from within one of the frying pans on the stove. The blaze looked ready to cut loose and spread throughout the kitchen in less than a heartbeat. Max, the head chef, April, the salad girl, and Rachel, one of the dessert chefs, were all backing away from the stove. April had been the one to scream, and she was still screaming.
Only Jared was moving toward the fire.
It was a grease fire, Maren realized. She saw the man who’d just been in her office, the man she’d been ready to send away, grab a cast-iron lid and quickly drop it on the pan.
“Fire extinguisher!” he yelled to her. “Where’s your fire extinguisher?”
Rather than answer, Maren yanked it from the wall and rushed toward him. Jared grabbed the canister out of her hands and liberally sprayed directly at the flames that were trying to escape the pan. The sparks vanished, but he still sprayed all around the area. The fire was out in less time than it took to tell about it, leaving behind an awful smell that threatened to hang in the air for hours.
Jared switched on the two exhaust fans directly above the frying pan.
Lowering the now-empty canister, he glanced at Maren over his shoulder. “Is this what you call trial by fire?”
She could only shake her head. This could have really been a disaster. If it had gotten out of hand, at the very least, the fire could have forced them to close down for several weeks. Maren looked at the man with new eyes.
She wasn’t being fair to him, condemning him because of his face.
“That was quick thinking. Thanks. Just put it down out of the way,” she instructed when he offered to hand her the extinguisher. Max, April and Rachel had all come forward again, gathering around her. Relief was etched on each of their faces. Maren looked from one to the other. “What happened?”
Rachel, the oldest, looked somewhat chagrined. “I don’t know, Maren. I was just preparing the sweet tarts and I must have knocked over the oil. The pan was still hot and…” Her voice trailed off as her thin shoulders rose and fell. “I’m sorry, Maren, I don’t know how that oil got there. I know I didn’t put it there myself—”
Maren raised her hand, waving away the apology before it made a reappearance. She wanted this behind them.
“That’s all right, nothing happened,” Maren said, her eyes shifting toward the man who had just possibly saved her from an incredible amount of inconvenience. Things could get out of hand quickly in a kitchen. “Thanks to Mr. Stevens.”
There was that smile again, the one that could melt concrete, she thought. “Jared,” Jared corrected.
Max looked him over. It was evident that the man regarded Jared as competition. “You the new guy?” he asked.
“I don’t know.” Green eyes turned toward Maren. “Am I?”
That uneasy feeling was still there, making her feel as if she were searching for a door that had been there a moment ago but had somehow disappeared. The feeling was not unlike the one generated by similar dreams she’d had. It made her leery.
But after what he’d just done, added to the résumé that sat on her desk, it didn’t seem fair to turn him away. His only flaw was that he reminded her of someone she didn’t want to remember.
Jared Stevens was too good-looking, she thought again. Good-looking men tended to wait for things to be handed to them. Like opportunities. And hearts. She was being childish. As well as unfair. And Maren had always believed in being fair.
She dragged her hand through dark blond hair the color of gold nuggets at sunset. “After what you just did, it wouldn’t seem fair to turn you down without a trial run.”
She saw him breathe a sigh of relief. It made her think that he really needed this job.
“That’s
