fade until the front door was closed. The sidewalk was brightly lit and the streetlights on Ocean Boulevard gave off a soft, yellow glow, so she didn’t mind the darkness. It was actually a relief to get out into the cold, crisp night and away from the lingering smell of burned onions.
Kathy Robertson was determined to become a good cook—which made her an excellent client—but it wasn’t going to be easy. Still, that meant Mrs. Robertson was going to be a long-term project, and that meant solvency for Rose’s burgeoning business. A good thing. Smiling to herself, Rose stacked her supplies back in her van, slid the door closed and then jumped when a man’s voice spoke up from behind her.
“Been a while.”
She spun around, hand to her chest, and looked up at a man she hadn’t seen in two years. Not since he and her older brother had cut off all communication. As soon as her heart slid out of her throat, it started pounding in excitement. “Lucas?”
He was leaning against her van. How had he walked up without her being aware of it? Now that she knew he was there, her skin was prickling and her nerve endings were standing up straight, dancing in appreciation. He was wearing a pullover red sweater over a white T-shirt and black jeans. His boots were scuffed and his black hair was ruffled by the wind. His jaw boasted the shadow of a beard and his blue eyes were fixed on her.
“You scared me to death,” she admitted when she could find her voice again.
“Sorry,” he said, but didn’t sound apologetic at all. “Didn’t mean to startle you. But I wanted to talk to you before you left.”
“Where’d you come from?” She glanced up and down the street, idly noting the steady stream of traffic.
“I live next door,” he told her, jerking his thumb toward the two-story house boasting a wide, stone front porch.
“I didn’t know,” she said, which was a good thing. Because she might not have taken the Robertsons on as customers if she had known Lucas King lived right beside them.
A few years ago, she had spent a lot of time daydreaming about this man. It hadn’t gone any further than that, of course, because her brother, Dave, had made sure to keep Lucas at a distance from her. Still, it hadn’t been easy to put Lucas out of her mind. He continued to sneak back in at unexpected moments. Seeing him again was only going to refuel those old daydreams and make not thinking about him even more difficult.
But he’d made himself very clear three years ago. He hadn’t been interested in her enough then to go against her brother’s interference and there was no reason to think that had changed. Besides, she’d been through a lot in the past few years. She wasn’t the easily charmed or foolishly romantic girl she had been.
Sure, her mind taunted slyly, that’s why your heart’s still pounding and your palms are damp. Because you’re so cool and controlled.
Frowning at her own inner turmoil, she missed what Lucas said and was forced to ask, “What?”
He pushed away from the car, stuffed his hands into his back pockets and repeated, “I said, I’m glad to see you’re teaching Kathy to cook. I’ve been to dinner at their place. Not pretty.”
Wryly, Rose was forced to admit, “She is … challenging. But she’s determined to improve, and that’s good for all of us.”
Nodding his head, he glanced at the skillet on top of her car. “Interesting advertisement.”
She knew what he must be thinking, but Rose liked her skillet. An artist friend had made it for her and attached it to the roof of the van. “I think it’s quirky.”
“That’s one word for it,” he said.
Instantly, her back went up. She’d had to defend her new business to her older brother, and she wasn’t going to do the same with Dave’s ex-friend. Which reminded her of the fact that Dave and Lucas weren’t even speaking anymore. So why was Lucas talking to her now?
She pushed windblown hair off her face and asked, “Was there something you wanted, Lucas?”
He looked at her for a long, silent moment, those blue eyes of his shadowed in the dim light. But his stare was just as powerful as it had once been, and Rose felt her heartbeat quicken again in response. It was an involuntary reaction, she told herself firmly, and refused to acknowledge it further.
“Actually,” he said, “there is. You teach cooking classes in people’s homes, right?”
“Yeah …”
“Then I want to hire you.”
She hadn’t expected that and wasn’t entirely sure what to make of it. Lucas King was one of the wealthiest men in America. He could employ a dozen chefs and never once have to enter his own kitchen if he didn’t want to. So why learn to cook for himself?
“Why?”
He pulled his hands free of his pockets and folded his arms across his broad chest. “I should think that would be self-evident. I want to know how to cook.”
“Yeah, I get that,” she said, still not willing to believe that he was serious. “What I don’t understand is why you want to hire me.”
“Because I don’t want to have to go out to take classes. You coming to my home is more convenient.”
“Uh-huh.” She was thinking fast and trying to see the trap in what he was saying, but she just couldn’t. Maybe he was being sincere. Maybe he really did want to learn how to cook for himself and seeing her here tonight had just been a happy accident.
But even as she thought it, Rose told herself there had to be more to it than that. As far as she knew, Lucas and her brother hadn’t spoken in a couple of years. Though she had tried to find out from Dave what had gone wrong in their friendship, her brother hadn’t told her a thing.
All he’d been willing to say was that Lucas King was out of their lives and she had better leave it that way.
If Lucas felt the same, and she had no reason to think he didn’t, why was he trying to hire her?
“How much do you charge?” Lucas asked, splintering her thoughts.
She told him and he nodded. “I’ll pay you twice your usual rate.”
“What? Why would you do that?”
“For your undivided attention,” he told her. “I’d want you here every night. Teaching me.”
She took a quick breath and tried to put out the flickering flames in the pit of her stomach. Every night. Teaching him. It sounded way more sexual than it should have.
“I have other clients,” she told him, though the truth was, her new business was barely up and sputtering. Besides Kathy Robertson, there were only three other women who had hired her so far and they were only once-a-month commitments.
“Three times your usual rate,” he countered, his gaze fixed on her, his expression unreadable.
Rose blew out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. With that kind of money, she could get a running start on building her business.
