at least thirty people down there. Kids splashing, old men in shorts with white legs and socks sitting under umbrellas. Gorgeous women sunbathing in bikinis. And where did his eyes end up?
On a pregnant woman.
Dammit!
He turned and started to pace. Kiera was just as attracted to him as he was to her, there was no question about that. She’d been just as wild for him as he’d been for her. God, he could still taste her, still feel her body pressed against his.
He dragged both hands through his hair and linked them behind his head. What the hell was she hiding from him? he wondered. Or, more likely, who? Why wouldn’t she tell him anything? And why wouldn’t she let him help?
She was driving him crazy.
I don’t want this complication, he told himself. I like my life just the way it is.
So why couldn’t he stop thinking about her? Why couldn’t he stop worrying if she was all right, if she needed anything?
If the test was positive …
He continued to pace. In spite of his lack of knowledge regarding “female stuff,” he just couldn’t believe she was pregnant. Kiera hadn’t missed a beat since she’d been hired at Adagios. She worked as hard, if not harder, than any other server on staff. Weren’t pregnant women supposed to throw up a lot, turn green and sleep all the time?
Shoot, Clair was acting more like she was pregnant than Kiera, he thought. Just yesterday she’d fallen asleep in the middle of a presentation by that publicist for the Cattlemen’s Association, and she’d had that bug she hadn’t been able to shake—
He stopped, furrowed his brow.
Clair?
Where the hell had that thought come from?
Clair had been acting strangely the past two days. He’d assumed because she’d suspected something had happened between him and Kiera.
But what if he’d had it all wrong, and she’d been distracted for another reason? Lord knew nothing had been as it seemed since Kiera had shown up. Why should this be any different?
Why indeed?
He squared his shoulders and set his back teeth. Enough already. He wanted answers.
And he wanted them now.
“Imbecile!” A loud clash of pots and pans followed Chef Phillipe’s ringing insult. “This is repulsive. Mon dieu, I would not feed this slop to the pigs, let alone people.”
A plate of grilled salmon in her hand, Kiera listened to Chef Phillipe berate Robert, Adagio’s sous-chef. Phillipe was on his usual daily rampage and poor Robert was his most recent victim.
“This is what I think of your so-called food.” Phillipe picked up the pan and turned it over, spilling the sauce onto the floor. For good measure, he then tossed the pan on the floor, as well. “You are a disgrace to chefs everywhere.”
Red-faced, Robert glanced from the mess to Phillipe. “But I did what you—”
“Silence!” Phillipe bellowed. “Your brain is like a petite pea. Who taught you to cook? The man who cleans out your plumbing pipes?”
Kiera winced. While she was grateful that Phillipe’s anger hadn’t been turned on her for once, she couldn’t help but feel sorry for the young man. He was fresh out of culinary school and from what she’d seen, quite talented, though still unsure of himself. Kiera figured any confidence that Robert had would quickly be beaten out of him by Phillipe.
Stay out of it, she told herself. Just turn around and walk away.
“Must I do everything myself?” Phillipe towered menacingly over Robert, who was visibly shaking. “You are incompetent.”
She clamped her teeth together and turned away. Haven’t you got enough problems of your own? This is your last order of the day. Just keep walking …
“You will never be a chef,” Phillipe continued. “You are not even fit to serve the food that I prepare.”
Unable to help herself, Kiera glanced over her shoulder, saw Robert’s eyes welling up.
Oh, hell.
She sucked in a breath, let a heartbeat pass, then dropped the plate in her hand. Well, more like threw the plate, she supposed. It landed with a loud, satisfying shatter.
Phillipe spun around, his eyes bulging with fury.
“Sorry,” she said innocently. “It slipped.”
Launching into his native language, Phillipe rounded on her, his fists clenched. Kiera spoke, and understood, enough French to know that his insults were as vile as they were insulting. The man was an ass, and she knew she should probably back away—or at least be afraid—but anger overrode her good sense.
And the expression on poor Robert’s face—a mix of horror and relief—was enough to make her stand her ground.
If there was one thing Trey had taught her, Kiera thought, it was how to drop a man—any size—to the floor. When Phillipe strode toward her, she waited for the man to even lift a finger. Almost hoped that he would. With all the frustration that had been building in her since she’d left Stone Ridge Ranch, she was certain her knee would pack quite a wallop.
When Phillipe moved into her space, she tightened her leg—
“What the hell is going on here?”
Kiera froze at the sound of Sam’s voice behind her. Dammit! Would this man forever be sneaking up on her?
Still, she didn’t turn, didn’t take her eyes off Phillipe, who looked as if he was about to pop a blood vessel in that thick neck of his.
“What is wrong?” His chest heaving, Phillipe glared at Sam. “I will tell you what is wrong. I am surrounded by complete idiots.”
From the corner of her eye, Kiera watched Sam’s jaw tighten. He glanced at Robert and the mess at his feet, then the plate she’d dropped. When he lifted his gaze back to her, she saw the controlled anger there. Her spine stiffened. Believe whatever you want, she thought. He’d already tried and convicted her yesterday when he’d seen the pregnancy test. What possible difference could it make to add one more crime to her long list of offenses?
“He is a buffoon.” Phillipe pointed a sausage-thick finger at Robert, then narrowed his beady eyes at Kiera. “And she is a clumsy, insolent—”
“That’s enough.”
The chef puffed up his chest. “You cannot expect me to work with such dim-witted, abruti—”
“I said, that’s enough.”
Stunned at the steel-edged tone in Sam’s voice, Phillipe clamped his mouth shut and gave an indignant tug at the hem of his shirt. “I will return in fifteen minutes. I expect them both to
