Secret Ingredient: Love. Teresa Southwick
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“I forgot,” she admitted. “But this is too classic, too characteristic of reverse psychology.”
“How do you figure?”
“You’re here, aren’t you?”
“Unless this is the Twilight Zone it would be pointless to deny it. But I refuse to believe strategy played a part.”
“It’s so obvious.” She shook her head sympathetically. “Guys always want what they can’t have. If anyone knows about this it’s me. With four brothers, I’ve had lots of practice studying how the male mind works.”
“And how is that?”
“It has something to do with that whole prehistoric hunter-gatherer thing. Deny them, and they’ll go out with single-minded determination and intense focus to hunt it down and bring it back to the cave. So Rosie’s method worked. She said you couldn’t bag me. Now you’re here, spear in hand.” She watched him for a moment, then added, “So to speak.”
“You’ve been reading too many of the psychology books in Rosie’s store.”
Instead of taking offense, she laughed. “Probably. No doubt it’s nothing more than a man’s competitive nature.”
He nodded. “I’ll go along with that. So, I’ll bite. Why can’t I get you?” That sounded way too personal. “As in why can’t I get you to work for me?”
She set her empty teacup and saucer on the end table beside the sofa. As she leaned sideways, the lamp’s glow highlighted the flush on her cheek. She’d noticed his double entendre.
When she didn’t answer right away, he asked, “Do you have something against Italian cuisine? Either cooking or eating?”
She shook her head. “I love it.”
“So your schedule is tight? You’ve got more work than you can handle? You couldn’t fit me in with a shoehorn?”
“Nope. After the baby food contract is satisfied, I’m up for grabs.”
Did she realize she’d lobbed a double entendre of her own? “Then you’re taking some much needed time off,” he suggested. “Haven’t had a vacation in years?”
“Wrong again. In fact, just before you rang my doorbell, I was wondering where my next job was coming from. I had the want ads out, and marked a few things that looked promising.”
He reached over and picked up her marked up classifieds. Looking at the ads she’d circled, he read, “‘Experienced cook. Must know breakfast.”’ He lowered the newspaper and met her gaze.
She shrugged. “I know breakfast. Never met one I didn’t like.”
He glanced at the paper again. “‘Busy retirement resort seeks chef experienced in home-style volume production.”’
The corners of her tantalizing mouth turned up. “I lived in a home once, and believe you me, in my house you didn’t learn anything if not cooking food in volume. The Carlino boys could put it away faster than you can say hot and hearty.”
Another circled ad caught his eye. “‘Accepting applications for grill and taco bar positions.’ Isn’t this beneath you?”
“It’s honest work.” Her mouth pulled tight.
“Seems to me your family would help out if you’re strapped and between assignments for a while.”
She shook her head. “I’d rather not.”
“Why?” If he was in need, his family would be there for him, as Fran had said, faster than you could say hot and hearty.
“I can take care of myself.”
He decided to leave it at that. Fran Carlino had a story and he didn’t want to hear it. Nothing personal. This was all about business. “So you’re actively looking for work,” he concluded.
“Yes,” she agreed.
They looked at each other and said at the same time, “Definitely matchmaking.”
“With overtones of reverse psychology,” Alex added. “And just to clarify—I could get you? To work for me, that is?”
“Make me an offer.”
The first offer that came to mind had nothing to do with a job and everything to do with exploring the curve and circumference of her mouth. Hello! There it was again. That weird attraction, and it didn’t seem to want to let up. The realization rocked him. It had been a while, but he was pretty sure he hadn’t reacted so strongly to a woman, not even Beth. This was different. And it was something he didn’t want to think about.
Pushing the feelings aside, he reminded himself he was here on business. And if he knew anything about anything, it was work. He’d buried himself in it to get through every day without Beth.
He stood up. “An offer is a little premature. I’d like to see a résumé and references. Then…”
“What?”
“Well, I’m not sure. This isn’t normally my area of expertise. My brother Joe is in charge of human resources. He’s the recruiter.”
“So should I see him?” she offered, seeming relieved somehow.
Alex shook his head. “I’d like to handle this. Partly because it’s my project, but mostly because my brother is getting married soon.”
“When?”
“Valentine’s Day.”
“The only day of the year set aside for lovers,” she said.
“Yes,” he agreed.
“So you believe in love. You’re just not looking for it yourself.”
“That doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate the significance of the day for others,” he clarified. Just not himself. “You probably have a guy to Valentine with,” he guessed.
“No. But I think it would be very romantic as a wedding day.”
He grinned. “That from the woman who would say Joe bagged a female and is in the process of dragging her—by the hair, I might add—back to his cave.”
She smiled at him. “There’s no keeping a steadfast hunter-gatherer down,” she said. “Apparently it doesn’t run in the family.”
“How’s that?”
“You’re not looking for a woman,” she reminded him.
“Right.” He cleared his throat. “If I were in charge of recruiting, I would probably want to know what job experience you’ve had.”
“Okay, I’ll get you my résumé and work history.”
He pulled