Книга - A Maverick’s Christmas Homecoming

A Maverick's Christmas Homecoming
Teresa Southwick


When executive celebrity chef Shane Roarke went to Thunder Canyon, Montana to find his birth parents, he never suspected that his father was the most hated man in town, doing prison time for crimes committed against its citizens. He has a lot to lose if they find out he’s the son of the man they hate. Everything, in fact, including Gianna Garrison…












“It’s the holidays. I need to see my family.


“The one that actually does want me around,” Shane clarified. “I’m going to Los Angeles.”

Gianna had a bad feeling about this. “For Christmas?”

He went on as if he hadn’t heard her. “It’s time for me to move on. Like you said, I found out what I came here for.”

But was that all he’d found? What about her? What about the two of them? Instead she said, “What about the restaurant?”

“The sous chef can take over for me. I’ve trained her. No one is irreplaceable.”

He was wrong about that. He couldn’t be replaced in her heart. And that’s when she knew she’d fallen in love with him.


Dear Reader,

In childhood we pick up the traditions that are carried on throughout our lives and one of the most time-honored is to spend the holidays with family. Everything’s supposed to be perfect during this special season, at least that’s what I thought as a little girl. One year reality set in when my younger brother was in the hospital with pneumonia. He was a pretty sick kid. But on the morning of December 25th, he was discharged and the whole family went to spring him. All of us were together, which made the day even more special because it nearly didn’t happen that way.

At Christmas most people make family plans, and Shane Roarke, the hero in this book, is no exception. But he takes it to the next level. Adopted as an infant, he’s wondered all his life about the biological parents who gave him up. What he discovers about them will either give him more family than he’s ever dreamed of or threaten his career and a future with Gianna Garrison, the woman he loves.

Life has taught me that things aren’t always perfect. I make a conscious effort to treasure the crisis-free times and count on family for support during all the rest. But in my books there’s always a happy ending and every day I’m grateful for this dream job.

I wish everyone health, happiness, love and peace at Christmas and all the best in the New Year.

Happy holidays!

Teresa Southwick




About the Author


TERESA SOUTHWICK lives with her husband in Las Vegas, the city that reinvents itself every day. An avid fan of romance novels, she is delighted to be living out her dream of writing for Mills & Boon


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A Maverick’s

Christmas

Homecoming

Teresa Southwick







www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


To my brothers—Jim, Mike, Dan, and Chris Boyle.

I love you guys. Merry Christmas!




Chapter One


When he’d come to Thunder Canyon five months ago looking for his biological parents, Shane Roarke never expected to find out that his father was in jail for stealing from the town. So far his mother’s identity was still a mystery, but maybe that was for the best. Did he really want to meet the woman who’d shown the bad judgment to hook up with a criminal? And what did that say about his own DNA?

He’d arrived a city-slicker chef with a list of questions about who he was. Now he had half the answers and a lot to lose if anyone else found out. The information and what to do about it weighed heavy on his mind.

In June he’d taken the executive chef position at The Gallatin Room, the fine-dining restaurant at Thunder Canyon Resort. With successful restaurants in L.A., New York and Seattle it had been a career step-down, but necessary for personal reasons. Now he was the definition of a man in conflict—part of him wished he’d never come, while the other part really liked this town.

“Oh, you’re still here—”

Shane looked up from the glass of wine in front of him to the redhead who’d just walked into his kitchen. Gianna Garrison was a waitress and part-time bartender on his staff. In the big cities where he’d worked his name had been linked to models, actresses and celebrities, but he’d never seen a more beautiful woman than the one in front of him now, looking like a deer caught in headlights.

“I’m still here,” he agreed.

“Like the captain of a ship.”

“The last to leave.” He smiled.

Gianna was wearing the black slacks and long-sleeved white shirt all the waitresses wore but it looked better on her. The tucked-in blouse accentuated breasts, not too big or too small, which only left just right. Her waist was trim, her legs slim and that curly, shoulder-length red hair always got his attention even from across a crowded room. Close-up was even better.

“Sorry to bother you.” She started to back out of the room. “I’ll just be going.”

She wasn’t bothering him. In fact she’d done him a favor. Shane realized the last thing he wanted was to be alone with his dark thoughts.

“Wait. We were a waitress short tonight.” Pretty lame stating the obvious, but he’d just switched mental gears and it was the best he could come up with to stop her from leaving.

“Yeah, Bonnie has a bad cold. Coughing, sneezing and breathing germs on that party of ski executives from Switzerland seemed counterproductive to the goal.”

Shane nodded. “Convincing them that Thunder Canyon has the snow, slopes and service to make it a winter vacation destination for Europeans.”

“Right. And have you seen any of those movies on the flu pandemic and how disease spreads? We wouldn’t want Thunder Canyon identified as ground zero by the Centers for Disease Control. The Swiss would probably hear about it.”

“That wouldn’t be good. Bonnie was wise to call herself off.”

The humor sparkling in her eyes made them almost turquoise. He hadn’t noticed that before, which wasn’t surprising. Between work, looking for his birth parents and feeling guilty about it on account of his real parents who loved him unconditionally, he’d been a little preoccupied. Now she was only a couple of feet away and he noticed that her eyes were wide and beautiful, like the Caribbean Ocean. If he wasn’t careful, he could drown in them.

“So one waitress less means you worked twice as hard,” he said.

She lifted one shoulder in a no-big-deal gesture. “I just moved faster, smiled more and dazzled them with the Garrison wit, hoping they had no idea it was taking just a little longer to get their orders delivered. The complimentary bottle of wine you sent over to the table didn’t hurt, either. By the way, they raved about the food and seemed surprised. You’d think the invention of Swiss cheese entitled them to culinary domination of the universe.”

“I’m guessing you didn’t say that to them.”

“No.” She grinned.

“The head of the delegation complimented me on the food and service before they left. He promised me maximum stars, diamonds, happy faces, thumbs-up, however they designate their rating. Without you I couldn’t have pulled that off, Gianna.”

Her wit wasn’t the only thing about her that dazzled. When she smiled, her face lit up like the town square decorated for Christmas. “I’m flattered you noticed.”

“I make it my business to notice. It crossed my mind to come out to help serve, but I couldn’t get away.”

“Cooking is what you do. Delivering what you cook is my job.”

“There’s more to it than that. Even when the food is good it’s not always easy to keep the customer happy. But you make it look easy. Tonight you did a fantastic job.”

“I just handled it,” she said modestly.

“You always do. You’re one of my best waitresses. Thanks for all your hard work. I appreciate it very much.”

“No problem. It’s what you pay me for but it’s nice to hear you say it.” Gianna backed up a little more. “I’ll just be going now.”

No, he thought. Her dazzle kept the dark away and he wasn’t ready for it to come back yet. He wanted her to stay. Saying that straight out might make her nervous, think he was hitting on her. That wasn’t his intention. The pleasure of her company was his only goal; the question was how to achieve it.

All Shane could come up with was a delaying tactic. “Did you want something?”

“Why do you ask?”

“You came in the kitchen.”

“Oh, that. It’s just, you know—” Her shrug did interesting things to her breasts. “Tonight’s special looked and smelled amazing so …”

“You’re hungry.” Of course. What other reason would she have for coming here when her shift was over. After a mental forehead slap, he said, “Doing the work of two people didn’t leave time for a dinner break.”

“It’s my own fault. I missed the staff meal before service started. I’ll just grab something on the way home.”

“No.” He stood and walked over to her. “The least I can do is feed you. And there will be a glass of wine involved.”

“Don’t make a mess on my account. The dishwasher and prep crew already cleaned up.”

“But I’m the boss. I have a nice Pino Grigio already uncorked and it pairs well with the spinach and crab ravioli.” He led her to the stool he’d just vacated then pressed gently on her shoulders, urging her to sit. The slight touch ignited a need in his belly and the instinct to pull her against him was unexpectedly powerful.

It was his business to notice workflow in the restaurant and he had. Just because it wasn’t his job to be attracted to someone working the flow didn’t make the attraction any less real. But he still wasn’t hitting on her. This was just a gesture. A happy staff didn’t quit and contented workers kept things running smoothly. Training a new waitress was time consuming and costly.

“I was going to have something myself. Please join me.”

“Okay, then. Thanks.” She rested her heel on the metal rung of the stool and crossed one leg over the other.

The movement was graceful, sexy, and it was an effort to pull his gaze away. On his first day at The Gallatin Room, Gianna Garrison had caught his eye, but for professional and personal reasons he’d resisted the impulse to act on the temptation. Until tonight.

Just before Thanksgiving he’d received conclusive proof that Arthur Swinton, the most hated man in Thunder Canyon, was his biological father. The information had weighed on him over the last couple of days and he was low on willpower. That was the best explanation he could come up with for this lapse in professional judgment. It was time to do his chef thing and take his mind off other things.

While he worked assembling plates, warming food, pouring wine, Gianna chattered away. He let her, liking the sound of her voice, the warm honey with just a hint of gravel. Then something she said tapped into his dark mood again.

“The Thanksgiving dinner you prepared last week for military families was amazing. Everyone in town is talking about it. Angie Anderson and Forrest Traub told me how thrilled the families were, how special and appreciated they felt for their loved ones’ sacrifices.”

He’d been more preoccupied than usual since that night. People had looked at him like he walked on water and he felt like a fraud. How could he be a walk on water type when Arthur Swinton was his biological father? The man had been convicted and sent to jail for embezzling public funds. Not only that, he’d perpetrated a conspiracy to ruin the Traubs, one of the most prominent families in town. If there was someone who didn’t hate Swinton, Shane hadn’t met them yet.

Gianna smiled at him. “They said it really helped because of missing their loved ones overseas so much, especially around the holidays.”

“I know something about missing family,” Shane whispered.

“What’s that?” she asked.

He slid hot food onto two plates, then looked over his shoulder. “You’re missing something if you don’t eat this while it’s hot.”

“It looks wonderful and smells even better.”

He put the two steaming plates on the stainless-steel countertop, then pulled up another stool and sat at a right angle to her. “Dig in.”

“Okay.” After she did, her gaze met his. “This is sinfully good. I don’t even want to think about the calories.”

“It’s a little-known fact that when you do the work of two people calories don’t count.”

“Thank goodness. Because this tastes even better than it smells and it smells very fattening.” She licked a drop of white wine sauce from her lower lip.

For a second, Shane thought he was going to choke on his own food. The look on her face was the most unconsciously erotic thing he’d ever seen.

A sip of wine kick-started his brain again and he managed to say, “I’m glad you like it.”

The words almost made him wince. He had a reputation for being charming but tonight he wouldn’t win any awards for witty repartee. It was a miracle that she didn’t make an excuse and run for the hills.

“How do you like Thunder Canyon?” She took another bite and chewed.

“Actually, I love it.”

“Seriously?” She stared at him as if he had two heads.

“Cross my heart. If it’s not at the top of my list, it’s very close.”

“But you’ve been all over the world, no?”

“Yes.”

“Where did you go to culinary school?”

“CIA.”

“Does that mean you could tell me but you’d have to kill me?” The corners of her full mouth turned up.

“The Culinary Institute of America. Hyde Park, New York. About two hours from Manhattan.”

“Convenient.”

He nodded. “I got a degree in Culinary Arts management because I always wanted to open my own restaurant. But I went to Paris to learn baking and pastry arts. I’ve traveled to Italy and Greece to experience various cooking techniques like liquid nitrogen chilling, and experience different cuisines. CIA also has a campus in Napa where they specialize in a different area of food preparation and wine pairing.”

“So you’ve got a well-rounded culinary education.”

“Yes. My parents are well-to-do. I didn’t have to worry about student loans and could indulge every aspect of my curiosity about business trends and cutting-edge themes in the food-service industry.”

Her eyes filled with a little wonder and a lot of envy. “That sounds so exciting. How can the town square in Thunder Canyon, Montana, compare to the Eiffel Tower? The Louvre? The—everything—of France?”

“Paris is something to see. No question. But it’s not fair to compare places in the world. The favorites just speak to your heart.”

“And Thunder Canyon speaks to yours?”

“Yes.” It was true, but she probably thought he was a poetic idiot.

He didn’t understand his instant connection to this small town in Montana so far off the beaten path. It crossed his mind that the answer could be in his DNA, but that didn’t make sense. Not really. Arthur Swinton was a greedy opportunist who only cared about himself and that had nothing to do with the place that filled up his son’s soul.

“I’d like to hear about you,” he said. “Are you from here?”

“Born and raised. My mother, father, sister and her family are still here.” She put the fork down on her empty plate. “After getting a business degree, I went to New York.”

“And?” He poured a little more wine in her glass. “What did you do there?”

“I opened a travel agency.”

“So, you took a bite out of the Big Apple.” Brave girl. He was impressed. His first business venture had been close to home in L.A. She jumped right into the big time. “Apparently I’m not the only one who’s been all over the world.”

She lifted her shoulder, a noncommittal gesture. “I was pretty busy getting the company off the ground.”

“It’s a lot of work, but incredibly exciting turning a dream into reality.”

“Speaking of reality,” she said, clearly intending to change the subject. “You certainly turned your appearance on that reality cooking show—If You Can’t Stand the Heat—into culinary success.”

“I was lucky.”

“Oh, please. If you call talent, charm, good looks and a clever way with a wooden spoon luck, then I’m the Duchess of Cambridge.”

He laughed. “So you think I’m not hard on the eyes?”

“Are you kidding? You’re gorgeous.” She looked a little surprised that the words had come out of her mouth. “But, for the record, really? That was your takeaway from what I just said?”

It was better than wondering where his looks had come from. “Beauty is as beauty does.”

“What does that even mean?”

“You got me. Do you have someone running the travel agency?” Which begged another question. “Why are you here in Thunder Canyon?”

“Personal reasons.” The sparkle disappeared from her eyes and she frowned before quickly adding, “I’m only here for a little while. Not much longer.”

Shane understood personal reasons and the reluctance to talk about them so he didn’t ask further. “Are you anxious to get back?”

“Who wouldn’t be?” She took the stem of her wineglass and turned it. “There’s a rumor that your contract here at The Gallatin Room is only six months.”

“Yeah.” He’d thought that would give him enough time to find out what he wanted to know, but he’d only found out half of it. Now the question was whether or not to keep going and what to do with the information he already had. “So it seems both of us have a time limit here in town.”

It was weird, probably part of the pathetic, poetic streak kicking in tonight, but talking to her had made him realize that since coming here he’d been a loner. And suddenly he was lonely. But the last thing he needed in his life was a long-term romantic complication. She was beautiful, funny and smart. He wanted to see her again and she wasn’t staying in town. That made her the perfect woman.

“I guess you could say I have a time limit here,” she agreed.

“Then we shouldn’t waste any time. Have dinner with me.”

She looked at his empty plate. “Didn’t we just do that?”

“Sassy.” He grinned and added that to her list of attributes. “I meant something away from work. Monday is the only day the restaurant is closed and every place within a twenty-mile radius is, too. How about I cook for you at my condo? It’s not far, here on the resort grounds.”

“I know. But—”

“It’s just a home-cooked meal. How does six-thirty sound?”

“I don’t know—” Her expression said she was struggling with an answer.

That’s when he gave her the grin that reality show enthusiasts had called his secret ingredient. “Doing double-duty tonight deserves a double thank-you.”

“When you put it that way … How can I say no?”

“Good. I look forward to it.”

Gianna had been looking forward to this evening since Shane Roarke had invited her to dinner. She took the elevator to the third floor of the building on Thunder Canyon Resort grounds where his condo was located. After five months of nursing a crush on him she could hardly believe he’d finally asked her out. Or in. It felt surreal, with a dash of guilt for good measure.

What she’d told him about herself in New York was a little sketchy. She hadn’t so much taken a bite out of the Big Apple as been chewed up and spit out by it. Apartments were small and expensive. The travel agency didn’t survive, a casualty of the internet, with more people looking online, eliminating the middle man. And the recession. And she’d seen no point in sharing with Shane that she kept falling into the trap of choosing men who had no intention of committing.

She hadn’t lied about personal reasons bringing her back to Thunder Canyon. It was the elaborating part she’d left out. Being unemployed and penniless were personal and her primary motivation in coming home. A job at The Gallatin Room was getting her back on her feet. She had a small apartment above the new store Real Vintage Cowboy and the only car she could afford was a fifteen-year-old clunker that she hoped would hold together because she couldn’t afford a new one. Sharing all of that with a sexy, sophisticated, successful man like Shane Roarke wasn’t high on her list of things to do.

After stepping out of the elevator she walked down the thick, soft carpeted hall to the corner apartment, the one with the best views.

“Here goes nothing,” she whispered, knocking on the door. Moments later Shane was there. “Hi.”

“You’re very punctual.” He stepped back and pulled the door wider. “Come in. Let me take your things.”

She slipped out of her long, black quilted coat and handed it to him along with her purse, then followed as he walked into the living room. It was stunning. The wood entryway opened to a plush beige carpet, white overstuffed sofa, glass tables and twelve-foot windows on two sides. High ceilings held recessed lighting and the expanse of warm, wheatcolored walls were covered with artwork that looked like it cost more than she made in a year.

“Wow.” Gianna had been nervous before but now her nerves got a shot of adrenaline. “This is beautiful.”

“I think so, too.” Shane’s gaze was firmly locked on her face.

Her heart stuttered and skidded. His eyes weren’t the color of sapphires or tanzanite, more like blue diamonds, an unusual shade for a stone that could cut glass. Or turn icy. Right this second his gaze was all heat and intensity.

“I’ve never seen you in a dress before. Green is your color,” he said. “It looks beautiful with your hair.”

Outside snow blanketed the ground; it was December in Montana, after all. But this moment had been worth the cold blast of air up her skirt during the walk from her clunker of a car. She’d given tonight’s outfit a lot of thought and decided he saw her in black pants most of the time. Tonight she wanted him to see her in something different, see her in a different way. The approval on his face as he glanced at her legs told her it was mission accomplished.

“’Tis the season for green.”

She’d never seen him out of work clothes, either. The blue shirt with long sleeves rolled up suited his dark hair and brought out his eyes, she thought. Designer jeans fit his long legs and spectacular butt as if made especially for him. For all she knew they might have been.

“Would you like some chardonnay?”

“Only if it pairs well with what you’re cooking,” she answered.

“It does.”

She followed him to the right and into the kitchen with state-of-the-art, stainless-steel refrigerator, dishwasher and cooktop. It was most likely top-of-the-line, not that she was an expert or anything. Ambience she knew something about and his table was set for two with matching silverware, china and crystal. Flowers and candles, too. The ambience had date written all over it.

“Good to know. Because I’m sure the food police would have something to say about nonpaired wine.”

“I kind of am the food police.”

“That makes one of us.” She took the glass of wine and sipped. Not too sweet, not too dry. It was delicious. The man knew his wine and from what she’d been able to dig up on him, he knew his women, too. She was really out of her depth. “And it’s kind of a relief that you know your stuff. Because you know that thing about actors wanting to direct? I don’t think it works the same in food service. Waitresses don’t want to be chefs. At least I don’t. Boiling water I can do. Ham sandwich, I’m your girl. Anything fancy? Call someone else. Call you. You’re famous in food circles for—”

He stopped the babbling with a finger on her lips. “Call me for what now?”

“You tell me.” She took a bigger sip of wine and nearly drained the glass.

“You’re nervous.” He was a master of understatement.

“I didn’t think it showed.”

“You’d be wrong.” He smiled then pulled chicken, vegetables and other ingredients from the refrigerator—all obviously prepared in advance—and stuff from a cupboard beside the stove, probably seasoning or spices. Or both. He took out a well-used frying pan and placed it on the stove. “But I’m pretty sure I understand.”

“What?”

“Your nerves. Thanks to reality TV, exposure about everything from bachelors to swamp people, we chefs have earned something of a reputation.”

“What kind of reputation would that be?” She finished her wine, then set the glass on the granite countertop.

“Bad boy.” The devil was in the blue-eyed glance he tossed over his shoulder. “And I’m no exception.”

“Oh?”

“Think about it. What I do involves sharp knives and fire. Very primitive.” As he lit the burner on the stove, the fire popped as the gas ignited.

“I see what you mean.” And how.

“On top of that I invited you to my place for dinner. But let me assure you that I have no intention of making you the dessert course.”

“That never crossed my mind.” But why not? she wanted to ask. It hadn’t been on her mind until just now. Well, maybe a little bit when she saw him in that shirt and those jeans because that kicked up a curiosity about what he’d look like without them.

He glanced over his shoulder again while tossing in the air over the hot flame everything he’d put in that frying pan. “In spite of what you may have heard, I’m not that type. I like to get to know a woman.”

If he really got to know her, chances were pretty good that he’d lose interest. And speaking of types, she probably wasn’t his. She wasn’t a businesswoman now, more the still-trying-to-find-herself variety.

“So, what are you doing for Christmas?” Changing the subject had seemed like a great idea until those words came out of her mouth. Would he think she was hinting for an invitation? The filter between her brain and mouth was either pickled or fried. Or both.

“My holiday plans are actually still up in the air,” he said.

There was an edge to his voice that demanded another subject change so she did. “What are you making for dinner tonight?”

“It’s something I’m experimenting with.”

“So I’m the guinea pig?”

“Think of yourself as quality control.” He grabbed the two plates off the table, then slid half the contents of the frying pan onto each one and set them on a part of the cooktop that looked like a warming area. Then he put liquids into the sauté pan and stirred, fully concentrating on the job. After spooning what looked to her like rice from a sauce pan, he said, “Dinner is served.” He glanced at her. “More wine?”

“Please.”

After filling her glass and setting plates on the table, he held the chair for her to sit down. If a guy had ever done that before, she couldn’t remember. Then he sat across from her. The star lilies and baby’s breath with candles in crystal holders on either side gave it all a romantic feel.

Suddenly her appetite disappeared, but she was here to eat and figured she’d better do that. She took a bite of the chicken and the flavors exploded on her tongue. “Oh, my. That is so good. It’s like a party in my mouth and I thought only chocolate could do that.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

“What’s in here?” She chewed and swallowed. “Can you tell me or would you have to kill me?” At his wicked look she shrugged. “Bad-boy rep, remember? CIA. Fire. Sharp stuff.”

“I’ll make an exception for you.” He picked through the food on his plate. “Chicken. Asparagus. Mushrooms.”

“This looks like rice, but the consistency is wrong.”

“It’s risotto.”

“Ah.” The gleam in his eyes started pressure in the vicinity of her chest and she hoped it was nothing more than pre-indigestion.

They ate in silence for several moments before he said, “So how was growing up in Thunder Canyon?”

“It was great, but keep in mind that I didn’t know anything else.” She put down her fork and wiped her mouth on the cloth napkin. “The pace is slower here and kids don’t need to grow up so fast.”

“It’s slower for grown-ups, too.”

Gianna nodded. “Not everyone is happy about that. Maintaining the balance between status quo and development has been and probably still is a source of conflict here in town.”

That started a discussion about everything from population growth to weather to large holiday groups scheduled at The Gallatin Room the following week. It was interesting to hear about restaurant management, all that went into a successful business besides just preparing food. Time seemed to both fly and stand still.

Finally Shane looked at her. “Would you like more?”

“No, thanks.” Her plate was empty and she was so full. “I guess guinea pig was the correct term.”

“I don’t think so. Clearly you enjoyed the food. In some cultures burping is high praise and a compliment to the chef.”

“And in some parts of the country it’s a competitive sport.”

He laughed, then stood and picked up his plate. She followed his lead and carried hers into the kitchen, where he took it from her and set them in the sink.

“What can I do to help?” she asked.

“Nothing. You’re a guest and I have a housekeeper. Why don’t we sit in the living room?”

“Okay.” But when they walked in, the tall windows were filled with the sight of lights winking in the valley below and she walked over. “That is a pretty amazing view.”

“I think so. Would you like to see it from the balcony?”

“Oh, yes.” She might never have another chance.

Shane opened the French door, then let her precede him outside. The cold air hit her immediately, but when they moved to the railing and he stood beside her, his nearness and the warmth from his body took the edge off.

“Oh, Shane, this is so stunning. Is it always like this?”

“Well, the mountains are permanent and don’t change.”

“Duh.”

He grinned down at her, then pointed. “See the spotlights over there? That’s the slopes and they’re always illuminated for night skiing. But in the last few days since Thanksgiving, people are putting up Christmas decorations so everything is even more beautiful.”

She glanced at him. “There’s something in your voice, an awe, a respect, as if you’re whispering in church.”

“It kind of feels that way,” he admitted. “There’s a sense of being in the presence of God. The natural beauty here …”

“Speaks to your heart?”

“Yeah. I do love it. Especially on a night like this.”

She looked up at the moon and stars. “I don’t know what’s more beautiful, the sky above or valley below.”

“Maybe it isn’t either one.”

There was a raspy quality in his voice that made her look at him. Their gazes locked and his sparked with heat and intensity. His shoulders were wide, his arms strong. Suddenly she was filled with an ache to feel them around her. She wanted to be dessert.

As if Shane could read her thoughts, his mouth inched toward hers and again time stood still.

Until it didn’t.

One second passed with him just standing there, then two before he backed away even though the expression in his eyes hadn’t changed. “It’s getting late. I should probably see you to your car.”

Gianna blinked up at him wondering what just happened. She wasn’t so out of practice that she didn’t know when a man was going to kiss her, and Shane had been about to do that. Something had changed his mind, but darned if she knew what it was. But clearly she’d been dismissed for unknown reasons.

“It is getting late. I’ll just get my coat.”

Shane got her things, and if the atmosphere at the restaurant was as awkward as the walk down to where she’d parked her wreck of a car, work was going to be even less fun than being one waitress short while feeding the Swiss delegation.




Chapter Two


Three days later Gianna was stewing in The Gallatin Room kitchen, which was ironically appropriate. It had been three nights since Shane had made dinner for her at his place. Three nights of seeing him at the restaurant where they both worked and he hadn’t said a word to her—not about work, not even about things other than work. Even a hello, how are you, wasn’t in his repertoire. In fact he was going out of his way to ignore her and she didn’t understand why.

She also didn’t have time to think about it. Waitresses were hurrying in and out of the kitchen with orders and busboys handled trays of dirty dishes, utensils and glassware. It was busy and noisy and she was putting together a basket of bread for the order she’d just taken. Shane stood by the stove concentrating on sautéing seafood over a hot flame. She stared at his back and felt like a lovelorn idiot, but she couldn’t help it. When he was in a room her gaze automatically searched him out.

He, on the other hand, didn’t even look at her when he wasn’t cooking. Disappointment trickled through her and she felt incredibly stupid. Maybe she’d been hoping the third time was the charm—or third day post dinner he would finally break his silence.

No such luck.

Bonnie Reid pushed through the swinging doors separating the kitchen areas from the dining room. Her friend did break the silence.

“Wow, it’s busy in there tonight, G.”

“Tell me about it.”

Gianna rested her hip against the stainless-steel worktable. She’d become good friends with the other waitress, a petite brunette with a pixie haircut and big brown eyes. They’d both been hired at about the same time and bonded over the good, the bad and the awe of their celebrity boss. The other night she’d thought he actually was awesome, but now? Not so much.

“I’m very glad you’re over your cold and back to work.” Gianna dragged her gaze away from Shane and looked at her friend.

There was sympathy in those brown eyes. “If I hadn’t been too sick to crawl out of bed, I’d have been here. It must have been awful by yourself, serving that big party of Swiss businessmen.”

“I managed.” And now she heard Shane’s voice in her head, telling her she always did. The words still made her glow, but she was doing her best to get over it.

“I hated leaving you shorthanded. You must have run your legs off.”

Gianna looked down. “Nope. Still there. Cellulite, the extra two and a half pounds on each thigh and all.”

“Yeah. Right.” Bonnie grinned. “You’re fit and fine, my friend.”

“Not that anyone would notice.” She glanced at Shane who still had his back to her.

“Did something happen while I was out sick?” Bonnie’s tone was sharp with curiosity, but fortunately their boss was too far away to hear in the noisy kitchen. “What did I miss?”

“Nothing.” That was the very sad truth, Gianna thought.

“I’m getting a vibe, G.” Her friend glanced at Shane, then back. “Did Roarke the magnificent do something? Say something?”

“Said something, did absolutely nothing.” Darn him. Gianna picked up the silver basket in which she’d artfully arranged a variety of herb-covered rolls and cheese cracker bread, then started to walk back to the dining room.

“Uh-uh. Not so fast.” Bonnie shook her head. “You can’t drop a cryptic comment like that and not elaborate. It violates every rule of friendship and is just wrong on so many levels.”

“Really, nothing happened. I guess I just got the signals wrong. Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“You’re trying to deflect me. Even if this is about all the time you wasted on too many men who have an allergy to commitment, it’s not going to work. Did Roarke make a move on you?” Bonnie’s eyes filled with indignant anger and she looked a little dangerous.

“Nothing like that.” Gianna pulled her farther around the corner to make sure they couldn’t be overheard even with the sizzle of cooking and banging of utensils. “We had a moment.”

“What kind of moment?”

“When you called in sick I missed the staff dinner then did double duty and was starved at the end of my shift. I thought everyone had left and came in here to grab something to eat. Shane wasn’t gone.”

“You were alone with him? Did he try something?”

If only … “No. He made me food and gave me wine.”

“To lower your resistance? I’ll take him apart—”

“Stand down.” Gianna couldn’t help smiling at the thought of her tiny friend taking on tall, muscular, masculine Shane Roarke. “He asked me to dinner on Monday, at his place.”

“How was it? His place, I mean. I’ve got more questions, but first things first.”

“All I can say is rich people really are different.”

“That good, huh?”

“The artwork. Furniture. Spacious floor plan and high ceilings. The lighting.” She sighed at the memory. “And don’t even get me started on the view.”

“So he caught you in his web, or lair, or whatever, then pounced?” The fierce look was back.

“That’s just it. He took me out on the balcony to show me the view of the mountains, the valley getting ready for Christmas. There was a moon and stars and lights stretching across said valley.”

“Romantic with a capital R.”

“Romantic with every letter capitalized and the whole word italicized.” She sighed. “I was sure he was leaning in for a kiss and then—”

“What?”

“Nothing. He all but told me to go home, except he did it in his Roarke-like way. ‘I’ll see you to your car,’“ she quoted.

“Bastard.” Bonnie shook her head. “Gentleman bastard.”

“I know.” Gianna peeked at him again, busily sautéing something. “That was Monday night and he hasn’t acknowledged me here at work since. I’m not sure which is worse. The let’s-just-be-friends speech I’m used to or this cold shoulder.”

Bonnie’s frown went from fierce to puzzled. “I prefer the speech. At least you know where you stand.”

Maybe that was her chronic problem, Gianna thought. If the relationship status wasn’t spelled out, she went straight to hope. That meant she’d made no progress in breaking her bad habit of being a hopelessly romantic fool who wasted time on the wrong men.

“Anyway, that’s the scoop.” She angled her head toward the swinging doors. “I have to get back to work.”

“Me, too.” Bonnie gave her a sympathetic look. “I’ve got your back.”

“Thanks.”

Gianna put her shoulder to one of the kitchen’s swinging doors, then opened it and walked into the quiet and elegant world where special service was the key to success. A beautiful setting during any season, The Gallatin Room was even more so, decorated for Christmas. A ten-foot tree with white lights, red, green and gold ornaments and shiny garland stood in the corner. All the tables had red poinsettias in the center on white linen tablecloths.

Now that Gianna had seen the view from Roarke’s penthouse apartment, she knew this restaurant wasn’t the most romantic place in Thunder Canyon, but she’d put it very high on the list. This was a weeknight but the place was nearly full, and that happened when you served the best food in town. That’s what the two women at her table were after. Gianna had chatted them up while delivering menus and found out they were having a girls’ long ski weekend.

She put the breadbasket on the table, then looked at the beautiful blonde and equally pretty brunette, both in their late twenties. “Have you decided or do you need another few minutes to look over the menu?”

“Too many tempting choices,” the blonde said. “Do you know what you’re having, Miranda?”

“I should go with salmon.” She frowned, but her face didn’t move. “But Shane’s filet with that yummy sauce is to die for.”

Gianna didn’t recognize either woman and she had a good memory for faces. “So you’ve been here before?”

“Not here.” Miranda shook her head. “But I’ve been to Roarke’s in New York. Daisy and I do a winter ski trip every year and have been talking about trying the slopes in Thunder Canyon for a while. But we always decided on somewhere easier to get to that had restaurants with a reputation. Then we heard Shane Roarke was the chef here.”

“He definitely is.”

“Miranda says this menu is different from the one in New York,” Daisy said.

“He’s tailored his signature recipes specifically for The Gallatin Room. I can tell you that every one is fantastic.”

“What’s your favorite?” Daisy asked.

The chicken he’d made for her at his place. But that wasn’t for public consumption yet. She smiled 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 he’d have flirted back. Partly to fuel his reputation and get his name in the paper. Although he’d just mocked the tabloids, any marketing expert would tell you that even bad publicity is good, anything that gets your name out there. He was no expert, but knew the information that his biological father was a criminal would take bad publicity to a different, not good level.

“Shane,” Miranda said, “after opening restaurants in so many big cities here in the States, I expected you to conquer London, Paris and Rome. It was really a surprise to find you were the executive chef here in off-the-beaten-path Montana.”

“I had my reasons.”

“But Thunder Canyon? What’s the appeal?”

He spotted Gianna’s bright hair across the room, just as she was coming out of the kitchen and a knot of need tightened in his belly. She wasn’t the reason he’d taken the job but just being able to watch her was definitely appealing. The not-touching mandate was his cross to bear.

“That’s difficult to put into words.” He looked from one beautiful face to the other. “I simply fell in love with Thunder Canyon.”

“In that case,” Miranda said, “maybe you could suggest some places to visit while we’re here.”

It was a hint for him to show them around and not a very subtle one. Even if he had the time, he wasn’t interested. “It was actually love at first sight with Thunder Canyon. I haven’t been here that long and haven’t had time to explore much.”

“Then maybe old friends from out of town is a good excuse to see the local highlights.”

“As tempting as that would be, my schedule is really tight. I’ve got parties every weekend and several during the week until Christmas.” It wouldn’t be politically correct to tell her he wasn’t interested. “You’re better off checking with the concierge at your hotel.”

“I’m very disappointed,” she said.

“Me, too. You know what they say. This is the most wonderful time of the year.”

“Ho, ho, ho.” Miranda pretended to pout.

“It was wonderful to see you. Happy holidays.” He kissed each woman on the cheek. “Duty calls.”

He turned away and scanned the room, something he did frequently. It was a chance to make sure service was impeccable, that people were relaxed and happy. How he’d love to get a helping of happy for himself. Speaking of relaxed … He spotted a romantic booth for two and recognized the romantic couple occupying it.

Angie Anderson and Forrest Traub radiated love like a convection oven. That spontaneous thought begged the question: Where in the world had this recent poetic streak come from and when would he shake it?

He headed in their direction and when the two of them stopped gazing into each other’s eyes for a moment, they spotted him. After weaving his way through the tables, he slid into the booth against the wall on the seat across from them. The other side had plenty of room for several more members of a platoon since Angie sat so close to Forrest, there was no space between them.

“Hi,” he said to them.

“Merry Christmas.” Angie was a college student and a volunteer at the town’s teen hangout called ROOTS. In her early twenties, her shiny brown hair and dark eyes made her look like a teenager herself. “How are you, Shane?”

“Okay. What’s up with you guys?”

“I’m counting the days until classes are over and it’s vacation.”

“Even with studying for finals she finds time to help the kids out with the holiday letters for soldiers.” Forrest put his hand on hers, resting on his forearm. His hair was still military short and he had the muscular fitness and bearing of a soldier, even with the limp from a wound he’d sustained while deployed overseas.

“It makes me feel good to volunteer. What goes around comes around and I want this Christmas to be perfect for everyone,” she said. “It’s our first together.”

“It’s already perfect for me. Santa came early this year. I’ve already got everything I want.” The depth of his feelings for this woman was right there in Forrest’s eyes.

“Me, too.” Angie leaned her head against his shoulder for a moment.

Shane felt like an intruder at the same time he envied them. People Magazine’s most eligible bachelor chef had never felt quite so alone before and he was sure that information would surprise the inquiring minds that wanted to know. It wasn’t so much about this young couple as it was wanting to touch Gianna and not being able to. Denying himself the pleasure of kissing her under the stars seemed more than stupid when he looked at these two.

“Actually, Shane, I’m really glad they let you out of the kitchen tonight.”

“It happens every once in a while.” He grinned at them.

“We were hoping to see you,” she said.

“Planning to hit me up to cater your wedding reception?” he teased.

“Maybe.” Forrest laughed. “Seriously, we wanted to thank you again for all your hard work cooking such a fantastic Thanksgiving dinner for military families. Every single person said the only thing better would have been to have their son or daughter, father or mother home.”

“He’s right, Shane.” Angie glanced at the man she loved, then back. “We can’t thank you enough for what you did. You’re the best.”

“Not really.”

He knew it was meant as a compliment but he wondered whether or not they’d feel the same if the truth came out that he was the son of Thunder Canyon’s very own crook. He’d hurt Gianna tonight by brushing her off. If she knew the truth about him, she’d probably feel as if she’d dodged a bullet. Except for a strategically placed R, crook and cook were the same.

The burden of his father’s identity still weighed heavily on him. For now it was his secret and keeping it to himself was the only way to control the flow of information. That meant not getting close to anyone.

Or kissing anyone. Immediately he thought of Gianna. Even her name sounded beautiful and exotic. The fire in her hair and freckles on her nose were a contradiction that tempted him every time he saw her.

And he saw her almost every day.




Chapter Three


At work on Friday Gianna was crabby and it was all Shane Roarke’s fault. She’d seen him the previous night smiling his charming smile at the brunette and blonde, chatting them up as if they were the only two women in the world. That wouldn’t bother her so much if he hadn’t given her wine and food in this very kitchen and smiled his charming smile at her. Then he invited her to his place for a test run of a new recipe where he charmed her some more.

She loved being charmed but wished he’d kept it to himself because all of that attention had fed into her crush, the one now starved into submission because without fuel there was nowhere to go. She was doing her best to not think about him but that resolve was challenged earlier tonight when she’d seen him brooding. It was the same expression she’d noticed the night of her double duty, although what the handsome, successful, famous Shane Roarke had to brood about was beyond her.

She pushed through the double doors and he looked up from whatever he was sautéing. And that was the thing. He never looked up when he was cooking. The building could be on fire and he’d still focus on the food. A girl noticed stuff like that when she had a crush on a guy. For the last three days he’d ignored her unless special requests from a customer made a conversation necessary to get the order just right. Tonight Shane had looked at her every time she was around, no matter what he was doing.

Gianna ignored him as she put in the order for two salads with romaine lettuce and the most delicious croutons on the planet. The prep cook would toss it with Shane’s special dressing, then add freshly grated Parmesan cheese. She picked up the wide, shallow bowls and set them on a tray. As she went to the double doors to go check on her tables a feeling prickled between her shoulder blades. Glancing over her shoulder she saw a hot and hungry expression in Shane’s gaze. There was something up with him and she was involved.

As soon as she came back for the salads, she’d find out what was going on with him. After leaving the kitchen she walked through the maze of tables and stopped.

She knew these two, had seen them in here individually. Both were somewhere in their mid-fifties, and widowed. She saw they still had salad on the plates in front of them on the white, cloth-covered table. “Still working on those salads, Mrs. Bausch, Mr. Walters.”

He was a big bear of a man with the calloused hands and leathery skin of someone who worked outdoors. “When are you going to call me Ben, little lady?”

“As soon as you stop calling me little lady. My name is Gianna.”

“You got it, Gianna.” There was a twinkle in his blue eyes.

“I haven’t seen you two in here together before.” She was curious.

“This is a blind date.” Kay Bausch was characteristically direct. “Austin Anderson set us up. You probably know he’s an engineer at Traub Oil Montana where I’m the secretary to the company president.”

“Ethan?”

“Points to you, Gianna. That’s the right Traub. And there are so many of them that sometimes it’s hard to keep the names straight.” She looked across the table at her blind date. “Ben has known him since he was a teenager. Austin, not Ethan.”

“He’s a good kid,” Ben answered, his mouth curving upward to form a smile in his rugged face. “He was kind of lost after his mom died in a car accident when he was only a teenager. Turned out he just needed a steady hand.”

“That’s nice at any age.” Kay’s voice was a little wistful. “And now he’s got his wife, Rose, Ethan’s sister. They’ll have their first anniversary on Christmas.”

Gianna felt a twist in her chest that signaled a severe case of envy. She’d seen the couple in here for dinner and the glow of their love still radiated. It’s what she had once hoped to find and now had all but given up on. Still, feeling sorry for herself was something she tried to do on her own time.

“Apparently Austin is quite the romantic.”

“How do you mean?” Ben asked her, but the expression on his face said he knew where she was going with this.

“He fixed you two up. How’s that working for you?” She looked at Kay, then Ben.

His grin was full of the devil. “So far I’m not sorry I put on this coat and tie.”

“You look very handsome. And uncomfortable,” Kay added. “The effort has not gone unnoticed or unappreciated.”

“Good to know. Because it has to be said that there’s no way to beat a comfortable pair of jeans.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” his date said.

“Something in common already.” Gianna nodded approvingly. “Can I get you anything else right now?”

“Nope. Got everything so far.” Ben was looking at his companion, who smiled like a young girl.

“Okay, then. Bon appétit. You two enjoy.”

Again weaving through the dining-room tables filled with people, she made her way back to the kitchen. Shane looked up as he was arranging shrimp in wine sauce over rice on two plates. Bonnie grabbed them, threw a nod of support, then left with the plates on a tray. She was alone with the chef and it was a sign, Gianna thought.

She marched over to where he stood in front of the stove and not all the heat she felt was from the cooking. “What’s going on?”

“Excuse me?”

“Are you going to have me fired?” She folded her arms over her chest as she met his gaze. She didn’t know where the question came from but her luck had been so bad it was best to get the worst case scenario out of the way first.

The surprise in his eyes was genuine. “What?”

“You keep staring at me and it’s not a happy look. You’re going to tell the manager to fire me, aren’t you?”

“No.”

She waited for an explanation, but it didn’t come. “Then it’s my imagination that you keep watching me?”

“No.”

Again nothing further. He was the most frustrating, exasperating man she’d ever met and she had a talent for meeting exasperating men who frustrated her. “Then I don’t get it. I don’t understand what you want from me.”

A muscle jerked in his jaw and his mouth pulled tight. He was fighting some internal battle and it was anyone’s guess which way things would go. Finally he all but growled, “Then I’ll show you what I want.”

He took her hand and tugged her down the short hallway and into the large, walk-in pantry where nonperishable, industrial-size supplies were kept. Canned goods, jars of olive oil, flour, sugar and spices were all stored in here on floor-to-ceiling metal shelves. Shane shut the door, closing them in.

“You know,” Gianna said, her tone a little breathless, “you didn’t need to bring me in here to yell at me. Public chastisement is okay. I can take it. Just tell me what—”

The words were cut off when he pulled her into his arms. “This is what I want to tell you.”

And then he kissed her. His lips were soft, gentle, but there was nothing gentle about the effect on her senses. It felt as if a wave of emotions crashed over her and she was floating because her legs went weak. The scent of his spicy cologne mixed with the pleasant smell of oil, spices and fire. Blood pounded in her ears and the feel of her breasts crushed against his hard chest was simply scrumptious.

He cupped the back of her head in his palm to make the meeting of their mouths more firm, and the harsh sounds of his breathing combined with hers and filled the storeroom. She would have been happy to stay like that forever, but Shane pulled away. It could have been an hour or a nanosecond because time in this alternate sensuous universe was hard to quantify.

She blinked up at him and said, “Does that mean I’m not in trouble?”

“That’s what it means.” He leaned his forehead against hers. “I’ve been wanting to do that all week.”

“Really?” Since her thoughts were smoking hot along with the rest of her, Gianna had trouble pulling herself together to call him on the fact that he’d ignored her most of the week. Somehow she managed. “You have a very odd way of showing it.”

“You’re right.” He blew out a long breath and backed up a step, as if he needed distance to think clearly, too. “My behavior is inexcusable. Mixed signals.”

“You think?”

“I don’t think. It’s a fact I’ve been running hot and cold.”

“I noticed.” After that kiss she definitely preferred hot, but given his recent mercurial moods it was best not to have expectations.

“Personal stuff in the workplace is a rocky road to go down. It’s tricky to navigate. I was trying to take the high road, do the right thing. I’d never want to make you uncomfortable.”

“You could have used your words,” she pointed out, “said something. I know a thing or two about being conflicted regarding … personal stuff.”

“Oh?”

“Yes.” She lifted her chin a little self-consciously. In for a penny, in for a pound. Might as well use her words. Never let it be said she was a do-as-I-say-not-as-I-do person. “I understand how sometimes it’s easy starting down a path, but the right time to turn off it can be tricky.”

“Very Zen of you.”

“Okay. Here’s an example. I dated a divorce attorney for over two years before we had ‘the talk’ where I found out he never planned to commit. Should have turned off that path a lot sooner.”

“I see.”

“Then there was the accountant who saw too many joint checking accounts split, not necessarily down the middle, by messy breakups. There’s a year and a half I’ll never get back.”

“Okay.”

“The college professor who said up front that he was a loner. That one is my own fault.”

“You’ve definitely had a conflict or two.”

“Yes, I have. As with my job, I can handle it. You don’t need to protect me. I’m a big girl.”

“I noticed.” His eyes were like twin blue flames with the heat turned up high.

“Don’t hold back on my account.”

“It won’t happen again,” he agreed.

“That was a very nice kiss.”

One of his dark eyebrows lifted. “Nice?”

“Location, location, location.” She looked around the storeroom and wrinkled her nose. “For the record? The balcony of your apartment has much better mojo.”

“Everyone’s a critic.” He grinned. “Let me make it up to you.”

“How?” She should be ashamed at being so easy, but darned if she could manage that.

“Meet me here after work and I’ll show you.”

“Okay.” Way too easy. The end of her shift wouldn’t come fast enough.

All it took was Shane’s kiss to make her crabby mood disappear. Probably not smart, but definitely the truth.

After making sure everything in the kitchen was shut down and squared away to his satisfaction, Shane turned off the lights. Only the security ones were left on, making the interior dim. The frenzied chaos so much a part of the food-service business he loved was over for the night and eerie quiet took its place.

He waited for Gianna to get her coat and purse then meet him here. Keyed up from work, he paced while he waited. Part of him hoped she wouldn’t show because he didn’t need more complications in his life. Mostly he couldn’t wait to see her. Fighting the temptation to kiss her had given him a lot of time to imagine what it would be like, but the actual touching of lips had been everything he’d expected and more.

What he hadn’t expected was her straightforward sass and steadfast spunk. The way she’d challenged him about how peculiarly he’d been acting had surprised and charmed him in equal parts. He hadn’t been surprised in a good way since the first time he’d seen Thunder Canyon.

With his parents’ blessing, he’d hired a private investigator to find his biological parents and the guy had narrowed the search to this small town in nowhere, Montana. His restless need to connect the dots about himself had been stronger than his aversion to packing himself off to that small town. The surprise was his instant connection to the rugged beauty of the mountains and trees, being drawn in by the friendliness of the people.

He’d grown up in Los Angeles, for God’s sake, where freeways, traffic and smog ruled. He wasn’t a mountains-and-trees kind of guy. At least he’d never thought so. But the connection he’d felt had only gotten stronger in the five months he’d been here. That was already a lot to lose, and now there was Gianna.

That saying—the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree—was a saying for a reason. And the sins of the father … The rest of the words eluded him but when sins were involved it couldn’t be good. Something deep inside Shane rebelled at the thought of Gianna knowing who his father was.

The kitchen door opened and there she was, wearing a navy blue knit hat pulled over her red hair with curls peeking out by her collar. She had a matching scarf tied loosely around her neck and the ends dangled down the front of her coat. When she smiled, the beauty and warmth melted the place inside him that had started to freeze over.

“So,” she said, “just how are you going to make it up to me?”

He wasn’t quite sure, but when the moment was right, he’d know. “You’ll just have to wait and see. Let’s go.”

“Okay.”

There was a rear restaurant exit and she followed him past the pantry where he’d kissed her earlier and the big industrial-size refrigerator and freezer. He opened the outside door and let her precede him, then closed and locked it after them. The area was illuminated by floodlights at the corners of the building.

“That air feels so good,” she said, drawing in a deep breath. “So clean and clear and cold.”

“How do you feel about a midnight walk in the moonlight?”

Her blue eyes sparkled with merriment. “I feel like that’s a promising start to making things up to me.”

The restaurant employees parked here in the back and since they were the last two to leave, Shane figured the only car in the lot, an older model compact, belonged to Gianna.

He looked down at her. “You don’t come out here alone after your shift, do you?”

“No. It usually works out that several of us leave together.”

“Good.” But tonight he would make sure she was safe. “Are you okay with leaving your car here?”

“Because someone might break in? I should be so lucky it would get stolen.” She laughed and the cheerful sound magnified in the still night.

“Is it giving you trouble?”

“Trouble is too nice a word for what it gives me. Every day I cross my fingers and say a little prayer that it will start and get me to work.”

“If it ever doesn’t, let me know. I can’t afford to lose my best waitress.”

“You might regret that offer,” she warned.

They walked across the lot to the sidewalk that bordered an open grassy area. At least there used to be grass. He’d seen the green before winter rolled in and dumped a couple feet of snow. During the day the temperature was warm enough that the existing snow melted a little, wetting the walkway. The sun had gone down hours ago and it was freezing, making the sidewalk slippery. On top of that, a light snow had started to fall.

“So much for walking in the moonlight,” she teased.

“I’m trying to feel bad about that. But for a boy from Southern California, the excitement of snow still hasn’t worn off.”

“All that sunshine and good weather must really get old.”

“It’s a dirty job, but someone has to live there.”

She laughed. “Still, there’s something to be said for Montana.”

“Preaching to the choir, Gianna,” he said. “And it’s not just the landscape or weather. The people in this town are good, friendly, salt-of-the-earth types.”

“I know what you mean.” Her tone was serious and sincere. “I met people in New York. Still have a good friend there who used to be my roommate. But the city is so big and impersonal. There’s an intimacy here that’s unique.”

“Everyone has made me feel really welcome, embraced me as one of them.”

“Thunder Canyon spirit,” she agreed. “But they can turn on you in a heartbeat if you let them down.”

That’s what worried him. But it probably wouldn’t happen tonight. He made a deliberate decision to change the subject. “So, we had a pretty good crowd in the restaurant.”

“We did.” She glanced up at him. “Were you mad enough to spit when that man sent his steak back twice because it wasn’t mooing on the plate?”

He shrugged. “People pay a lot of money for service and food. It’s my job to make sure they’re satisfied.”

“For every persnickety person, there’s a Ben Walters and Kay Bausch.”

“I don’t think I know them.” When she slipped a little on the sidewalk, he took her hand and slid it through the bend of his elbow. It wasn’t an excuse to stay connected. Not really. He was responsible for keeping her safe.

“Ben is in his mid-fifties, a rancher born and raised here. He’s a widower. Kay is a transplant from Midland, Texas. She works for Ethan Traub and came with him when he opened Traub Oil Montana. She’s a widow.” She sighed. “I was their waitress tonight.”

“Nice people?”

“Very. And the best part is they were on a blind date. Austin Anderson fixed them up.”

“Angie’s brother?”

“Yeah. It’s really sweet. And I can’t help wondering if the two of them were meant to meet and find a second chance at happiness. Romantic drivel, I know.”

“Not here. To me it sounds like just another day in Thunder Canyon.”

“On the surface that’s sort of a cynical remark,” she observed. “But digging deeper, I can see the compliment buried in the words.”

They were walking by one of the resort’s Christmas displays with lighted reindeer and Santa Claus in his sleigh. Animal heads moved back and forth and Rudolph’s nose was bright red. The big guy with the white beard moved his hand in a wave. Old-fashioned, ornate streetlamps lined the walkways and the buildings were outlined with white lights.

“This is really a magical place, especially this time of year,” he said.

“I know.” There was a wistful tone to her voice as she stared at the decorations. “What is Santa bringing you this year? A Rolls Royce? 3-D TV with state-of-the-art sound system? Really expensive toys?”

Material things he had. And more money than he knew what to do with had paid for a private investigator to dig up information. But it was what money couldn’t buy that made him feel so empty.

“I actually haven’t written my letter to Santa yet.”

“I see.” She stared at the jolly fat man turning his head and waving. “Have you been naughty? Or nice?”

“Good question.”

The mischief in her eyes turned his thoughts to other things and he looked at her mouth. The memory of those full lips so soft and giving convinced him that this was the right moment to make it up to her for not taking advantage of the romantic mojo on his balcony.

Shane lowered his head for a kiss, just the barest touch. He tasted strawberry lip gloss and snowflakes, the sexiest combination he could imagine. And he could imagine quite a bit. His heart rate kicked up and his breathing went right along with it. Gianna’s did, too, judging by the white clouds billowing between them.

No part of their bodies were touching and she must have found that as dissatisfying as he did. She lifted her arms and put them around his neck, but when she moved, her foot slid on the sidewalk and she started to fall.

Shane shifted to catch her but couldn’t get traction on the icy surface and knew both of them were going down. He managed to shift his body and take the brunt of the fall on his back in the snow while Gianna landed on top of him with a startled squeal. Then she started laughing.

He looked into her face so close to his and said, “That couldn’t have gone better if I’d planned it.” If he had, he’d have planned to be somewhere warm and for her not to have so many clothes on.

“So, you think it will be that easy to have your way with me?”

“A guy can hope.”

Apparently the innocent expression he put on his face wasn’t convincing because she chose that moment to rub a handful of snow over his cheeks.

He sucked in a breath. “God, that’s cold.”

“I’m so sorry.” Clearly it was a lie because she did it again.

“Payback isn’t pretty.” He reached out to grab some snow, then lifted the collar of her coat to shove it down her back.

She shrieked again, then gave him a look. “You’re so going down for that.”

“I’m already down.”

“Then we need to take this battle to a new level.” She jumped up and staggered back a few feet, then bent down. When she straightened, she hurled a snowball with each hand, but missed him.

Shane rolled to the side and grabbed her legs, tackling her. “I learned to do that when I played football.”

He looked down at her laughing face and thoughts of war and retaliation retreated. She was so beautiful he couldn’t stop himself from touching his mouth to hers. Definitely going on Santa’s naughty list this year.

He deepened the kiss and caught her moan of pleasure in his mouth as she slid her arms around his neck. They were already down so he didn’t have to worry about losing his balance this time. That was fortunate because she felt so good in his arms, he had his doubts about maintaining emotional equilibrium.

He cupped her cold cheek in his palm and traced the outline of her lips with his tongue. She opened her mouth, inviting him inside, and he instantly complied. The touch sent liquid heat rolling through him and he groaned with the need to feel her bare skin next to his. The sensual haze lasted just until he felt her shiver.

He lifted his head and saw her shaking. “You’re freezing.”

“N-not yet. But c-close.”

Shane levered himself up and to his feet, then reached a hand down to help her stand. In the streetlamp he could see that her coat and pants were wet. “You’re soaked.”

Her teeth were chattering, but she managed to say, “Th-thanks for the news flash.”

“You need to get into something dry.”

“I need to go h-home.”

“My place is closer.” The next words just popped out, but as soon as they did he knew how much he wanted it. “You could stay tonight.”

“Oh, Shane—”

“Just a thought. No harm, no foul.”

“I’d really like to.” There was need in her eyes, but it was quickly followed by doubt. “But …”

There always was, he thought.

“I have an early day tomorrow,” she said. “It’s probably best if I go home. Rain check?”

“You got it.” He’d never meant a promise more. “Now let’s get you back to your car.”

He hurried her to the parking lot and took her keys when her hand was shaking too badly to fit it in the lock. When she was in the driver’s seat, she managed to get the key in the ignition and turn it. There was a clicking noise but the engine didn’t turn over.

Shane met her gaze. “Did you forget to say your prayer this morning?”

“That’s not the problem. This clunker is officially beyond the power of prayer. It’s dead.”




Chapter Four


Trouble wasn’t a four-letter word but it should be when talking about her car, Gianna thought. On top of that, she was freezing. Rolling around in the snow with Shane had seemed like a good idea at the time, but not so much now.

He leaned into the open door and met her gaze. “I think the battery’s dead.”

“Of course it is because that’s just how I roll—or in this case, don’t roll. And dead is good.”

“How do you figure?”

“It won’t feel a thing when I beat it with a baseball bat.”

“That won’t help the situation.”

“Says who? Hitting something would make me feel a lot better.” She got out of the car, shivering when the cold air wrapped around her, then dug in her purse for her cell. “It’s late. There’s no way I can deal with this now. No garage will be open, so I’ll call a cab to take me home.”

He put a hand on her arm. “Not while I’m around.”

“I don’t want to inconvenience you.”

If she’d taken him up on the offer to spend the night it would be very convenient, but she was pretty sure sleeping wasn’t on his mind when he’d offered. It’s not that she wasn’t interested in sex, but this was too soon.

“I’m happy to help you out, Gianna. And I won’t take no for an answer.” He plucked his cell phone from the case on his belt, pushed some buttons and hit Send. A moment later he said, “Rob? Shane Roarke. Can you do me a favor? Bring my car down to the restaurant, the parking lot out back.” Rob said something that made Shane grin. “Yes, a very nice Christmas bonus. Happy holidays.” He put the phone back in the case. “The car will be here in a few minutes.”

Gianna stared at him. “It must be amazing to be you.”

“And who am I?” The words were meant to be glib and lighthearted but a slight tension in his voice made him sound a little lost.

Shane Roarke, celebrity chef and wealthy eligible bachelor? Lost? That was just nuts. She must have hit her head when they were wrestling in the snow. Or her brain was frozen. He was rich, famous, handsome. Women threw themselves at him. If this was a dream, she didn’t want to wake up. And he was driving her home.

To her minuscule apartment above Real Vintage Cowboy. Yikes.

After seeing his place she was a little embarrassed to bring him inside hers. But that was just silly. After he pulled into the parking lot behind the store she’d just hop out and say thanks. There was no reason for him to know that her apartment was so small she could stand in the living room with a feather duster, turn once in a circle, and the place would be clean.





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