Winning Her Heart
Harmony Evans
A recipe for desireBay Point ConfessionsCelebrity chef Micah Langston’s ambition keeps him successful, wealthy and single. His brother wants him to open a restaurant in their California hometown—and that means checking out the gorgeous competition. Jasmine Kennedy is falling for Micah’s intense seduction until she discovers his new venture will ruin her grandmother’s business. After tasting Jasmine’s sweet passion, Micah knows no other woman can satisfy him…but has betrayal spoiled her appetite for love?
A recipe for desire
Bay Point Confessions
Celebrity chef Micah Langston’s ambition keeps him successful, wealthy and single. His brother wants him to open a restaurant in their California hometown—and that means checking out the gorgeous competition. Jasmine Kennedy is falling for Micah’s intense seduction until she discovers his new venture will ruin her grandmother’s business. After tasting Jasmine’s sweet passion, Micah knows no other woman can satisfy him...but has betrayal spoiled her appetite for love?
HARMONY EVANS received the 2013 Romance Slam Jam Emma Award for Debut Author of the Year. Her first book, Lesson in Romance, garnered two RT Reviewers’ Choice Best Book Award nominations in 2012. She currently resides in New York City. Visit her at www.harmonyevans.com (http://www.harmonyevans.com).
Also By Harmony Evans (#u8b5865b9-933d-5d28-8247-201ee3f7f8fd)
Lesson in Romance
Stealing Kisses
Loving Laney
When Morning Comes
Winning Her Love
Winning the Doctor
Winning Her Heart
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Winning Her Heart
Harmony Evans
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-08480-2
WINNING HER HEART
© 2018 Jennifer Jackson
Published in Great Britain 2018
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
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www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
They both looked up at the same time as a seagull swooped down a little too close to their heads. She gasped and Micah clutched her body to his. He waved one hand in the air to frighten the bird away.
When it was gone, he didn’t let go, and she didn’t want him to. She was finally where she wanted to be ever since he’d set foot in her grandmother’s restaurant.
She laid her cheek on his chest and inhaled. If he wore cologne, it was very lightly applied, which was fine with her. She preferred the scent of clean skin as opposed to scents splashed from a bottle.
“That was scary,” she whispered, looping her arms around his waist. “But this feels nice.”
Enclosed in his strong arms and with her head nestled against his muscular chest, she did not feel confined. She felt empowered, free to say what she felt in her heart.
Micah placed his palms on her cheeks and stared into her eyes. He closed his eyes and brought his lips to hers.
“I bet this will feel even better.”
His kiss was sweet and tender, and she felt her body melt against his.
Dear Reader (#u8b5865b9-933d-5d28-8247-201ee3f7f8fd),
Since moving to New York City a few years ago, I’ve been able to enjoy eating at many of the area’s wonderful restaurants. Sharing a meal is one of the best ways to get to know someone.
Micah Langston and Jasmine Kennedy share a love of food and family, and a fear of commitment. I hope you enjoy their journey as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Thank you for purchasing and reading Winning Her Heart. Follow me on Facebook or Twitter, or just check out my website for news about future releases.
Best,
Harmony
Contents
Cover (#u95c407ea-7700-5eaf-95f4-b23a92d41eb3)
Back Cover Text (#u8959c511-05a9-5002-9b49-1cbbd97ac059)
About the Author (#u9ae8c434-e602-599c-9348-b603d8f578fa)
Booklist (#u4a373a69-1858-5009-8805-9b06cbd76803)
Title Page (#u03c2d9c6-5ea5-5bf4-886e-223d761c0894)
Copyright (#ud5eb3a38-dd86-5e7c-bc25-1b0bf372e14f)
Introduction (#u115cad95-fcef-5236-b12f-6a9506b10beb)
Dear Reader (#u7dc99785-609a-590d-a50d-eb33860acc4c)
Chapter 1 (#uba7259d1-3afb-5cbf-82f2-e16f58953742)
Chapter 2 (#u63ec8763-14d5-5bc2-bc76-55fdf5d82021)
Chapter 3 (#u1df1e179-10c5-5129-9ced-98c94a7760e6)
Chapter 4 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 5 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 6 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 1 (#u8b5865b9-933d-5d28-8247-201ee3f7f8fd)
Almost there. Almost home.
Micah Langston shifted his sleek black convertible into fifth gear as it zipped along the Pacific Coast Highway north from San Francisco toward Bay Point.
The midafternoon sun beamed down on his head. The air was fresh and clean, and the convertible, though it was a rental, made him want one for his own.
He loved the feel of the wind sliding over his hair like invisible silk. The unadulterated freedom, riding rooftop down, exhilarated him.
Watch it, Micah, he warned himself, frowning slightly.
You could get used to this.
To his left, the Pacific Ocean beckoned. Magellan, the Portuguese explorer, had coined it Mar Pacifico, which means peaceful ocean. Micah glanced over at the endless expanse of blue, wondering if he’d ever feel a sense of peace. But he’d given his word. He had to give Bay Point one more chance.
Micah left his hometown over ten years ago to attend the famed Culinary Institute of America in Hyde Park, New York. Once he’d graduated, he rarely returned home, except for important family functions.
Instead, he’d spent his time focusing on his career.
By the time he was twenty-eight, he owned three successful restaurants in New York City, San Francisco and Portland, Oregon. As executive chef of each one, he created his own recipes, specializing in southern cuisine with a Latin twist. All the restaurants were branded Society Red, were immensely popular and garnered rave reviews. And for good reason; he was a damn good cook.
His older brother, Gregory Langston, the mayor of Bay Point, wanted him to open up a restaurant downtown. He had lured him back home with the promise of big tax breaks and potentially big profits. Mayor Langston was convinced that Micah’s name would draw tourists year-round.
Micah exited the highway and headed east. In his mind, this trip was exploratory only. His brother might have a vision for the small beach town, but that didn’t mean he agreed with it, or necessarily wanted to play a role.
Now, at only thirty years old, he wasn’t sure Bay Point was the place to drop a permanent pin on all he had yet to accomplish in the culinary world.
But he loved his brother, so to appease him, he and his partners, who were also successful chefs, had gone ahead and purchased property in downtown Bay Point, at a very affordable price.
However, Micah had not decided if he wanted to actually install one of his restaurants there. His partners, who each had an equal stake, argued that since he was the most famous chef of the trio, his name and his restaurant would be the best option.
In other words, Micah was their golden ticket.
Work had already begun to restore the decrepit, seventy-five-year-old building. The exterior renovations would take several months, and they were having difficulty getting some of the permits approved. Micah was glad for the much-needed time to make a final decision.
A restaurant would be built in Bay Point, just not necessarily his. He wasn’t making any promises to his brother, or anyone else for that matter. He loved his family, but his ambition had always come first, a trait that had made him very, very rich.
Micah turned onto Magnolia Avenue and his eyes widened. Since he’d last visited a couple of years ago, Bay Point had undergone significant development. There were fancy boutiques, luxury condominiums and a slew of new restaurants lining the main road into town.
“That’s why I’m here,” he muttered. “To check out the competition.”
His first stop was 333 Magnolia Avenue, home of Lucy’s Bar and Grille, a local favorite that had been around for as long as he could remember.
The restaurant was located directly across the street from his property, which he thought was a major bonus. What better way to advertise a new restaurant than to open up right across the street from an old, outdated one?
He angled the convertible into a parking spot right up front and smiled, finding it comical that Lucy’s was even considered “competition.” Though he did have fond memories of eating there when he was a teenager, it was more of a diner than a fine restaurant.
Micah walked inside and stopped in his tracks, shocked to find the dining room full. Though it was way past the lunch hour, the only seats available were at the bar.
A few heads turned as he made his way back. Being recognized always gave him a rush. He openly welcomed fame, but even more, the money and notoriety that came with it.
He slid onto a wooden bar stool that had seen better days, and reminded himself that the only appeal of the place was the food. His stomach rumbled as he inhaled the comforting scents of garlic, hot pepper sauce and olive oil. He’d grabbed a quick bite at the airport, but hadn’t eaten since.
Several feet away, down a small hallway to his right, a door he knew led to the kitchen suddenly swung open. A woman emerged, holding a tray in one hand, high above her head.
She walked toward him, hips swaying side to side in the most tantalizing way. He envied the red-checkered apron riding shotgun on her short denim miniskirt. His lower body tensed and tightened, so much so that he was glad he was sitting down. Suddenly, Lucy’s had more than one thing going for it.
The woman reached the bar and frowned. Micah noticed that there was no place to set the tray.
He half swiveled in his seat. “Allow me.”
Facing her, without waiting for a response, he lifted the tray from her hands.
She cocked her head at him, gave a little smile and then served the elderly couple sitting on his left their meals.
When she was finished, he gave her back the tray, which she promptly stuck under her arm.
Since he was sitting right next to the pass-through to the bar, he lifted it, telling himself it was the courteous thing to do. But the truth was he just wanted to see her smile again.
With a nod, but not a smile, she skirted through, and he slowly released the counter into place.
She set the tray on top. “Thanks for your help. I’ll take your order in a moment.”
The southern accent he detected in her voice nestled into his senses as he watched her refill drinks and make sure customers were happy with their food.
Then, she took a rag and wiped down the counter in front of him.
“Sorry for the wait. Welcome to Lucy’s.”
Her T-shirt was black, V-necked, and her cleavage was as deep as her smile. The words Ask Me if I Care were emblazoned across the front in thin silvery cursive.
As she handed him a menu, her breasts riffed against the glossy surface of the bar.
Though it was difficult, he managed to avert his eyes as she poured him a glass of water, but his hard-on tightened uncomfortably as though she were standing in front of him, naked.
A customer a few bar stools down asked her a question and she turned her face away. He gave in to temptation, stealing the moment to soak up the woman’s tantalizing figure.
She was petite and curvy. Short hair spiked in a hip style. Bangs asymmetrical, the longer side skimmed her left eyebrow. Daring him to brush them away so he could see the color of her eyes.
She set a glass of water down in front of him. “Can I tell you about today’s specials?”
As she rattled them off, a pang of desire hit him, confused him.
That voice. That body.
She was the exact opposite of the model-thin types that normally interested him, at least for a night.
“Perhaps,” he said, wanting her to linger. “What’s looking good today?”
Besides you, he thought, biting back the words.
He wanted to tease her, to let her know that he found her very attractive, but it felt disrespectful to do that in a place like Lucy’s.
“All the food is good here,” she continued. “But we’ve been real busy today and have already run out of some of the menu items. Tell me what you want, and I’ll check in with the kitchen to see if we still have it.”
Micah set his menu aside. He already knew what he wanted, besides the luscious woman in front of him.
“How about one of Lucy’s famous jerk chicken sandwiches?”
She arched a perfectly curved brow. “Oh, so you’ve heard about those?”
“I’ve had one or two in my lifetime. I grew up in Bay Point, and used to eat here frequently when I was a teenager.”
“Hmm,” she replied, her eyes roaming his face. “You don’t look much older than that now.”
“Thank you. I guess I age well.”
He gave her his most disarming smile, happy that his boyish good looks had netted him another fine catch.
“I’m Micah Langston. And you are?”
“Jasmine Kennedy.”
He reached out his hand, and her palm felt cool to the touch. “Pleasure to meet you.”
“Langston.” She tilted her head. “Are you any relation to—?”
“The mayor? He’s my older brother.”
Jasmine’s cheeks dimpled and seemed to light up her face.
“The rumors are true then. Good looks do run in the family.”
He leaned back a little. Her flirtatious compliment spiraled through him, warming his insides, catching him off guard, though he suspected she didn’t mean a word of it.
Seconds later, he chided himself. When was the last time he ever cared what any woman thought about him?
“I like you already.”
She smiled and laid down a napkin, followed by a knife, fork and spoon on top. “I’ll bet you’ll like me even more if we have any jerk chicken left. Let me go see. Be right back.”
He turned his head and watched her leave. Her mini-skirt hugged her curves so tight he wished he had X-ray eyes.
Her hip bumped against the kitchen door, causing it to swing open. When she disappeared behind it, it was like all the air had gone out of the room with her.
Micah gulped down some water, icy cold, but not cold enough to calm the lust she had unknowingly kindled.
To distract himself, he glanced around the restaurant.
The decor hadn’t changed much from when he was a kid. Autographed photos of movies stars he didn’t recognize. African masks draped with Mardi Gras beads. Old porcelain signs that were likely reproductions and other so-called antique treasures cluttered the walls.
He wrinkled his nose. So different from his taste. He favored sleek, modern designs allowing his customers to focus on what was most important—the food.
“I thought I heard a Langston out here.”
He got off his chair and gave Lucy Dee Diller, the owner of the diner, a peck on the cheek. The aromatic scent of incense and coffee beans wafted over him. Her raspy voice had deepened, making her southern accent even more apparent. He wondered if she still smoked unfiltered cigarettes, and hoped she didn’t.
Moments later, Jasmine was back, plate in hand. When he saw what was on it, he wanted to kiss her.
“Is that what I think it is?”
Lucy took the plate from Jasmine and slid it in front of him. “My famous jerk chicken sandwich with apple chutney and hand-sliced sweet potato fries.”
Jasmine winked. “How do you like me now?”
“Like? I think I’m in love.” He grinned at the two women, and then pointed at the food. “With all three of you.”
Lucy laughed. “Didn’t I tell you, Jasmine? Just like a Langston. You’re all flirts, though your brother not so much because he’s married.”
Steam curled up from his fries. He could barely wait to dig in.
“After all these years, I’m surprised you still recognize me.”
Lucy nodded. “Of course, I do! And not just because you’ve been on television.”
“You’re on television?” Jasmine asked.
Her voice held a note of disbelief that threatened to irk his ego. Micah shrugged, as if it was no big deal, even though to him, it was. He considered being on TV one of his greatest accomplishments.
She lifted the pass-through, and Lucy joined her behind the bar.
“Don’t you know, honey? Micah is famous.”
“Ever hear of High Stakes Chef?” he asked. “That’s the name of the show.”
Jasmine shook her head defiantly. “I don’t watch television.”
Lucy cut in, nudging the plate closer. “I remember your appetite and I don’t like to see any man starve, famous or not. I made that sandwich just how you like it.”
“With extra pepper sauce?”
At Lucy’s nod, he picked up the sandwich and opened his mouth to take a bite.
“Uh-uh. Not yet. Napkin in the collar, please,” Lucy scolded, unfolding one and doing the honors. “You know the drill. I’m not paying for your laundry.”
When she was done, Micah grinned and fought to roll his eyes as he smoothed the napkin over his clean white button-down shirt. He wasn’t a teenager anymore, but apparently Jasmine thought he looked like one, and Lucy thought he ate like one.
“Now, you eat,” Lucy said.
He took a bite. “Mmm...this is as delicious and—” he paused to swallow and wipe some sauce from his lips “—as messy as I remember.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t order it that way,” Lucy said.
“I’ve been a little distracted ever since I walked in,” he replied, temporarily forgetting his hunger for food.
He looked up and caught Jasmine watching him, a little smile on her lips, as she poured a draft beer.
Lucy glanced between the two and narrowed her eyes. Known around town for having psychic abilities, Micah wondered if she saw the spark between him and Jasmine, or if it was just his imagination.
“Don’t you go taking up my granddaughter’s time,” she warned. She tossed her head to the side and flattened one hand on the bar. “She has other customers and besides, she belongs to me.”
Her voice, though kind, seemed overly protective. What did the woman think he was going to do? Kidnap the girl?
Micah lifted both hands up, hoping to quell Lucy’s fears.
“Hold up. You have a granddaughter?”
He didn’t even know Lucy had children. On the other hand, he wasn’t surprised. He wasn’t the type to delve into someone’s personal life or even listen to the gossip that ran rampant in the small town.
“Isn’t she beautiful?” She beamed a megawatt grin, followed by a dismayed frown. “Wait. Don’t answer that. Just eat.”
Between mouthfuls, he said, “You’re both beautiful. Must run in your family.”
Jasmine wiped her hands and leaned against the back of the bar. “I didn’t want to believe you, but you’re right, Gram. He’s just like a Langston. A total flirt.”
He put his sandwich down. “Takes one to know one,” he teased good-naturedly, unable to help himself.
“Come on, you two. Break it up,” Lucy said, waving her hands like a referee.
His eyes caught Jasmine’s again, and he shrugged in spite of the flame of interest he saw there. It was time to change the subject before he got into trouble.
“How long have you owned the diner, Lucy?”
“Over fifty years. I moved to Bay Point when I was twenty-two years old.”
“That’s the same age I was when I opened up my first restaurant,” he exclaimed, surprised he had something in common with the feisty woman. “Now I have three.”
Jasmine whistled. “Three restaurants!”
“It’s not easy, but somehow I make it work.”
“One is enough for me,” Lucy said. “I’m so blessed that Jasmine moved here to help out.”
“Oh? How long have you been in Bay Point?”
“Only a few months.”
“She’s been a godsend,” Lucy said, looking over her shoulder as she rang up a customer. “I don’t know what I would do without her.”
“It’s been about two years since I’ve been back in Bay Point,” Micah said, trying a more direct track to get the information he needed. He’d almost forgotten why he’d stopped there in the first place.
Although the restaurant appeared to be doing well, he knew that keeping it that way was tough. If he did choose to open up his own across the street, Lucy’s customers would have a choice. He was confident that most would choose to spend their hard earned dollars at Society Red.
“Things sure have changed. There are lots of new restaurants in town. Have they affected your business? Have you lost any customers?”
Jasmine cut in, her tone sharp. “That’s none of your—”
Lucy turned and laid a hand on her granddaughter’s arm. “Mind your manners.”
“I mean. We’re doing fine,” Jasmine amended, folding her arms.
Micah wiped his mouth with his napkin, hiding his frown of concern. Without meaning to, he’d stepped onto some invisible battleground between the two women.
He sighed inwardly. Though he was curious, Jasmine was right. It was none of his business.
“Lunch is our best time, though dinner is pretty steady, too,” Lucy added as she lifted the pass-through. “I’d better get back and start prepping tonight’s specials.”
“Anything I can do to help?” he offered. “I know my way around a kitchen.”
“Thanks, but no.” Lucy gave him a quick hug. “Careful what you ask for Micah or we’ll find something for you to do around here eventually. Won’t we, Jasmine?”
Micah finished his sandwich while Jasmine took care of other customers at the bar.
When she returned, she cleared away his empty plate and placed it underneath the counter.
“How long are you in town?” she asked.
“I’m just visiting. I’ve got to get back to Portland in a few days.”
“Is that where you live now?”
He shrugged. “Sometimes. I actually have an apartment in each city where I have a restaurant, so Portland, Chicago and New York City. I bounce around a lot.”
“Sounds like fun, but I prefer to call one place home.”
“You’ve only been here a little while. Is Bay Point ‘home’ for you already?” he teased.
“Time will tell.” A shadow crossed her face, and he sensed she was unhappy. “My grandmother needs me.”
She laid his bill on the counter. “I hope you enjoyed everything.”
He barely glanced at the amount and reached into his back pocket for his wallet, keeping his eyes on hers.
“I did, and if I said something that offended you earlier, I’m sorry.”
Jasmine bit her lip and she seemed nervous. “You didn’t. I’m just protective of her, that’s all.”
“And she seems protective of you,” he said, handing over his platinum credit card. “Sounds like she really relies on you.”
“Lunchtime is busy and she needs the help.”
She shrugged her shoulders, then glanced over at the kitchen. “But I do more than pour drinks, she’s been doing the books by herself all these years, by hand no less. I’m bringing her into the 21st century.”
“Kicking and screaming?”
Jasmine laughed. “Oh, yeah. Definitely.”
“That’s wonderful. Do you help with the cooking too?”
“No way. I try to stay out of the kitchen as much as possible.”
She asked him if he wanted anything else, and he shook his head. He had other things to do that afternoon, but he also didn’t want their conversation to end.
“I could give you a cooking lesson.”
Jasmine pursed her lips. “Oh really? Can you give me an idea of what the first class would be like, so I can judge if I’m interested?”
“How about I teach you how to make homemade spaghetti sauce? And then how to cook the perfect pasta al dente? There’s an art to cooking, you know.”
Her half smile was sexy and dismissive at the same time. “Thanks, but with all I have to do around here, I don’t think I have time.”
She handed him the receipt, which he quickly signed. She tried to reach for his pen, but he held on to it.
“Wait. Before I go, I have something to ask you.”
Jasmine furrowed her brow, but he couldn’t tell if she was annoyed or curious.
“What is it?”
“Do you?”
He watched her face, deliberately being obtuse.
“Do I what?” she repeated, drawing out the words as if she didn’t understand.
“Care.” He pointed at her with the pen. “Your T-shirt says Ask Me if I Care. So, I’m asking. Do you care?”
She stared into his eyes, challenging him. “That’s an odd question to ask someone you just met.”
“Let’s just say, I care about the answer.”
Smiling, she lifted her chin. “Rub the crystal ball and see.”
“That old thing is still here?”
He glanced toward the door surprised that he hadn’t noticed the large glass orb nestled on a gold-columned pedestal near the front of the restaurant when he’d first walked in.
Locals touched it on their way in or out, hoping it would bring them good luck. He remembered giving the thing a good rub on the night of his senior prom, hoping he’d get lucky with his date. But she’d slapped him in the face when he made his move. He didn’t even make it through the first kiss.
Over the years, his luck had changed. He had no trouble seducing any woman that he wanted, and Jasmine Kennedy would be no exception.
He gave her a large tip, and added his phone number before handing the receipt and the pen back to her.
“What’s that sly grin for?” she asked.
“Call me and find out.”
Micah winked and felt her eyes linger on his back as he headed toward the front of the restaurant. He knew she was waiting to see if he would touch the crystal ball.
But he refused, and sailed right past it. He wasn’t a superstitious man, just a cautious one, and he didn’t believe in magic. Just hard work.
The sun nearly blinded him when he emerged from the poorly lit restaurant. He’d forgotten his sunglasses in the car, so he shaded his eyes with his right hand and looked across the street at his building.
There was brown paper on the windows and the scaffolding was up, but no construction workers in sight. Checking his watch, he saw that it was nearly three o’clock. Were they already done for the day?
He stuck his hands in his pockets and jingled his keys, debating whether to check on the renovation, as he’d originally intended. He was expected for dinner at his family’s beach estate at five o’clock, but wanted to get there early for a relaxing shower and shave.
Temporary lodging in his boyhood bedroom, he told himself.
At this point in his life, he just wasn’t sure if his hometown was even worthy of his time, talent and money.
He traveled regularly, living out of one suitcase, trying new cuisines and meeting new people around the world. He loved his lifestyle too much to be snagged down in one place, with one woman.
Micah looked back over his shoulder at Lucy’s, and decided to visit his building later that evening, and check out the interior instead. There was a back entrance he could use to avoid attracting attention.
He got into his convertible and, after verifying that the road was clear, backed out.
All the way to his parents’ house, he denied that it was because of Jasmine that he had changed his plans.
* * *
“My, my, Micah. Talk about afternoon delight!”
The man had left her a twenty-dollar tip on a ten-dollar meal. She couldn’t decide whether he was a big spender or just trying to leave a big impression. He didn’t need to wave around his money. All he needed to make heads turn was to walk into a room.
Jasmine hurried to the front of the restaurant. She bumped one of the empty rattan dining chairs to the side with her hip and positioned herself at the window. The gold curtain rings that held red-checkered café curtains pressed against her cleavage as she peeked outside.
A local construction worker sitting the next table over cackled at her. She ignored him, though she could feel his eyes ogling her miniskirted behind. He’d finished two orders of buffalo chicken wings and a pitcher of beer, and she knew from experience that she’d get nothing from him but trouble.
“Just one last look. That’s all I need.”
She clicked her tongue against the back of her teeth.
Micah Langston was just the break she needed in the middle of a busy day.
Handsome, sexy and not planning to stick around.
His clean-shaven, medium brown tone skin was unlined and appeared as smooth as a baby. His nose was a little smaller than she liked, but still fit with his oval-shaped face that angled at his jaws.
He appeared to be in his late twenties, maybe early thirties. She didn’t see him pull out any reading glasses, and the piercing way he was looking at her made her think he could see just fine.
She wondered if the flecks of gray in his close-cut black hair were due to heredity, stress or age. She was twenty-three, so if they hooked up, they would be pretty close in age.
Those hazel eyes with specks of deep blue had sunk into hers, and she felt a little like when she slipped on her favorite fuzzy socks at night after a long day on her feet—warm, safe and a little thankful.
Micah had full lips that he knew to close when he munched on his food, unlike some of the customers that ate at Lucy’s. Some of the things she’d seen since arriving at her grandmother’s restaurant made her cringe even now. Just because it was cheap didn’t mean it was okay to leave one’s manners outside.
The black Audi proved he had terrific taste in cars, and the rental plates screamed just passing through.
Fine man, he was. Very fine.
She watched Micah slide his sunglasses over his nose, and check his rearview mirror, but not for his reflection.
A man that looked like him did not need to check his appearance, Jasmine thought. He was perfect.
She pressed the palm of her hand to the back of her neck. Her skin was hot, her secret gauge that indicated she was equally hot for a man, double verifying the exquisite pull in her loins that she felt when she first laid eyes on Micah.
He watched for cars, of which there were some crisscrossing the road, before pulling out onto Magnolia Avenue, heading west toward the beach.
She sighed and put one hand on her hip, watching until he disappeared.
“Get away from that window,” her grandmother said, picking up a set of rooster-shaped salt and pepper shakers from an empty booth. “Never let a man know you’re interested.”
Jasmine turned and plastered an innocent smile on her face. “I’m not interested and besides, he’s gone.”
“Excuse me, ma’am.”
She moved out of the way so Donnie, one of the busboys, could clear a table that was recently vacated. His arms stretched here and there removing every dish and piece of silverware into a square plastic tub.
As soon as he was done, Lucy slapped a wet rag down on the table and started to scrub.
“Great. A man like Micah Langston is no good for you.”
Jasmine spotted another patron in the corner gesturing for a check, and hurried over. After she’d run their credit card and provided the receipt, she joined Lucy back behind the bar.
“What do you mean that Micah is no good for me? I thought the Langstons were a little like royalty in this town.”
Lucy cocked a brow. “Just because Gregory is the mayor?”
Jasmine shrugged, placing a used beer glass on a tray under the bar.
Two years ago, Jasmine had graduated with honors from Tulane University with a degree in business administration, and a minor in accounting. Because of her strong internship history, she was lucky enough to land a job with a small advertising agency in the French Quarter as a junior account manager.
The pay was decent, the work interesting. She’d enjoyed helping the agency’s clients, who were mostly restaurants, shops and historical sites, with their marketing strategy in hopes of attracting increased numbers of tourists to their respective businesses.
Then one night she’d stayed until almost midnight to help finalize a new business pitch. Her boss put his hand on her thigh, and she gave him a right hook across his leering mouth, and she never went back. Broke her lease and used her rent money to fly one-way to California.
“The Langstons have been here for generations,” Lucy continued. “Micah is the only one who, after college, didn’t come back to stay.”
“He probably figured you were the best chef in town, so why stay here and get his butt beat?”
Lucy patted Jasmine’s cheek, and she relished the touch of her grandmother’s hand.
“You’re kind to flatter me, but I’m not the one who is on television, am I?”
“Did you ever want fame and fortune?”
Lucy shook her head. “No, I moved to Bay Point to brush shoulders with both from time to time.”
“The town used to be a weekend getaway for the stars, wasn’t it?”
Lucy wiped down the bar and smiled wistfully. “I’ve seen my fair share of Hollywood royalty during the almost fifty years this restaurant has been open.”
Lucy’s Bar and Grille was an institution in Bay Point. It was no Sardis, the famed New York City restaurant with hundreds of celebs and Broadway stars on the walls, both in atmosphere or price, but it was charming nonetheless. Several black-and-white or color autographed celebrity photos hung on the walls, alongside old porcelain, Cajun art and other antique treasures her grandmother had brought with her from her native Louisiana.
To most people in Bay Point, her grandmother’s restaurant was just a homespun place to eat, but Jasmine knew that it was Lucy’s life. And she also knew that as the town continued to grow, so would the competition to threaten its existence.
“The men and the women were gorgeous. Glamorous! And the directors?” Lucy wrinkled her nose. “Pigs, mostly, with hands like an octopus.”
She thought about her boss, Peter, and what he’d tried to do, what he wanted to do. A flash of anger rose up inside her, like bile, and Jasmine almost thought she was going to be sick. She poured herself a ginger ale and sipped it slowly until the feeling passed.
Donnie gathered up the last of the shiny aluminum carafes that held Lucy’s famous “bottomless coffee.” The lunch crowd was slowly filing out which meant only one thing. The dinner crowd would soon replace them, gathering again in the vintage button-tufted blue vinyl booths that lined the walls or at the green Formica tables scattered about the room.
Jasmine rang out the last customer at the bar and sighed. Since she’d arrived, she’d been so busy helping her grandmother that she barely had time to notice anything but receipts spitting out of a credit card machine, and the unpaid bills piling up in the back office.
Although Mayor Langston had done a great job revitalizing downtown Bay Point with new restaurants, housing and shops, and they had customers other than the regulars, they weren’t out of the hole yet.
She’d already talked the landlord, George Stodwell, off the cliff of eviction. He’d given them another six months to pay the back rent owed or she’d be selling jerk chicken from the trunk of her Mini Cooper.
Jasmine wrung a rag out in the bar sink, wishing for a moment that it was Stodwell’s neck. But she knew better than anyone that violence didn’t solve anything. It just made things worse.
Besides, her grandmother needed her, though she would never admit it. Now in her seventies, Lucy Dee Diller was as feisty and fierce as her Cajun dishes.
Growing up, Jasmine had never really known her. Lucy’d been so busy with the restaurant that she rarely returned to New Orleans. This was her chance to give her grandmother the love and affection she’d wanted to since she was a little girl. Lucy was trying to teach her how to cook, and now with her warning about Micah, also about men.
“Some guys are okay,” Jasmine said, handing Lucy the cash drawer.
“Yes, the mayor is a fine man. But he’s taken. Money and good looks flow throughout the Langston family tree, but as far as I’m concerned, Micah can plant his seed somewhere else.”
“Lucy!” Jasmine croaked out a shocked laugh, as racy images flitted through her mind, but her grandmother had disappeared through the swinging doors into the kitchen.
Leaning her elbows on the bar, Jasmine felt her nipples tighten involuntarily as she recalled Micah’s packed, athletic build. His white short-sleeved polo shirt and pressed khaki shorts, with just enough bulge in all the right places, and none of the wrong ones.
She licked her lips and drank the rest of her ginger ale to cool off.
Lucy reemerged and Jasmine crossed her arms over her chest.
“What are you standing around for?” Lucy called out, as she went to the front door and locked it. “Time to prep for dinner.”
Jasmine slipped under the counter, rather than lift it up. “I’m on it.”
“Whew, girl,” Lucy said, walking back. “You make me nervous every time you do that.”
“I’m ok. Besides it’s good for my thighs.”
“Honey, I can’t even remember a time when I was able to squat that low.”
She gave Lucy a hug. “Why don’t you go up to your room and rest? Donnie, Gloria and I will handle prep.”
Every dish at Lucy’s Bar and Grille was made from fresh ingredients. Even the spices were freshly ground just before use.
“I guess you’re right. I could use a little nap.” Lucy wiped her brow. “I hope I’m not keeping you from whatever it is you kids do these days. I love having you here, but—”
“And I love being here,” Jasmine interrupted. “We’ve got a lot of missed time to make up for, don’t we?”
“We certainly do, and I’m treasuring every moment.”
Jasmine backed against one of the swinging doors to hold it open so her grandmother could pass. At the end of the kitchen, which smelled of roasted chicken, allspice and thyme, there was a short hallway with stairs that led up to a small apartment, which she shared with Lucy.
Although Jasmine had a fair amount of money in her savings account, she wanted to take her time to find her own place. She was hoarding her tips to get her stuff out of storage, when the time came. For her, Bay Point was not only a place to reconnect with her grandmother. She hoped it would be a refuge.
After she got Lucy settled upstairs, she went back down and started to cut onions, while Gloria sliced the potatoes. She was almost finished when Donnie informed her she had a call.
She swung into the main dining area and picked up the cordless at the hostess station. “Lucy’s. This is Jasmine Kennedy. How can I help you?”
“Miss Kennedy. That sounds so presidential.”
The man’s low baritone voice, sounding vaguely familiar, sent a chill up her spine.
“Who is this?” she demanded in a sharp voice.
Donnie stopped stacking the highball glasses and frowned.
“Micah Langston.”
“Oh,” she said, letting Donnie know with a nod that everything was okay.
“Forget me so soon? I haven’t forgotten about you.”
Now that she knew who he was, his intimate insinuation transformed the chill in her spine into a pool of heat in her belly.
She sank onto a bar stool, not expecting to hear from him so soon, or even at all.
“What can I do for you, Micah?”
“I think I left my pen, a black Mont Blanc, very expensive, there at the bar. Can you check for me?”
Jasmine furrowed her brow. Pharmaceutical sales reps, who had Bay Point Community Hospital in their territories, often stopped in for breakfast or lunch on the way in or out of town. She distinctly remembered giving Micah a pen imprinted with the brand name of some kind of drug, but she’d humor the man. Besides, where would he have kept it? The polo shirt he’d worn had no pockets.
“Sure, hold on,” she said, and set the phone upright on the bar.
Just for kicks, she did check near where he sat, but there was nothing but some food scraps on the floor. Not from him, she knew, but from the previous customer who routinely dropped food in his lap, while talking to his coworker.
“I’m sorry, but there’s nothing here.”
“Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong.”
She narrowed her eyes. “What are you talking about?”
“You do have what I’m seeking. You just don’t know it yet.”
He sighed and the low sound vibrated, soft and sexy, against her ear as though he were right next to her.
Suddenly she knew what he was implying and her loins pulsed with need. And though he’d made her go chasing for something that didn’t exist, she found him very exciting.
She sucked in a breath, and he chuckled softly.
“Get lost, Micah,” she said, disconnecting the call.
Jasmine stuck her hands in her apron and brought out his receipt. She examined his signature, or autograph she supposed, if she were a fan, which she most definitely was not. Her eyes traced his phone number, committing it to memory.
Time for a fling? Perhaps.
Time for love? Not a chance.
Chapter 2 (#u8b5865b9-933d-5d28-8247-201ee3f7f8fd)
Micah chuckled as he pulled up to his parents’ beachfront estate. With Jasmine’s sexy New Orleans drawl still in his ear, his body hummed with desire. Even though she’d hung up on him, the call energized him.
Coming home always brought back the guilt that he’d left in the first place.
His parents were never happy with his decision to stay away from Bay Point after culinary school. Because of their deep roots in the community, they’d wanted him to start a business there, but he’d refused and his relationship with them had suffered.
It was important to him to make his own way, with or without their blessing. That feeling hadn’t changed, although sometimes he wished things could have been different between them.
The briny ocean breeze hit him as soon as he stepped out of his air-conditioned car. He got his suitcase from the back seat, relieved to see that there were no other vehicles in the area adjacent to the circular driveway.
His brothers, Gregory and Marlon, always parked their cars in the attached six-car garage on the other side of the Spanish-style home. His parents loved to entertain on a regular basis, but it looked like tonight would be a family-only affair.
Micah felt a pain in his gut knowing that after ten years as a successful chef and restaurant owner, his parents still didn’t respect his choice of a career.
This time, I won’t let them get to me.
The scent of sand and seaweed further boosted his positive mood as he wheeled his suitcase up the red brick path to the front door. He punched in the security code, went in and stowed his bag next to the curved staircase, just outside the expansive foyer.
He slipped off his shoes and peeked in the library, which his father also used as an office. It was empty, so he strode into the large living room. The floor-to-ceiling windows bathed the space in late afternoon light and he could see everyone had gathered outside.
Micah closed the patio door behind him and was soon enveloped in his mother’s embrace.
“It’s good to have you home, son.”
“For a small woman, you pack some powerful hugs,” Micah joked, giving her a tight squeeze back.
Helen Langston, only five feet tall, was a giant of philanthropy in Bay Point, raising thousands of dollars for causes she cared about. In her early sixties, her demeanor with her children was often cool and distant, but in public and at parties she always turned on the charm. Impeccably dressed, even when just relaxing at home, her short coppery-brown hair was always cut in the latest style.
“I’ve been saving them up for a while,” she said, after releasing her grip.
Gregory, the middle Langston, was lounging on a chaise. He uncrossed his ankles but did not get up.
“You can thank me for getting him back in town. I’m the one trying to get him to open up a restaurant here.”
Micah strolled over. “Lying down on the job again, Mayor? At least give me a proper greeting.”
He picked up Gregory’s legs and swung them out of the way so he could sit down, ignoring his brother’s protests.
“Okay, but I’m warning you, if I shake your hand, it’s a done deal.”
Micah got the hint and stood, a wry smile on his face, knowing his brother was dead serious. “My partners and I bought the building, but as you already know, we haven’t decided whose restaurant will be utilizing the space.”
Marlon, the eldest brother, strode over and draped an arm around his shoulders. He gave him a gruff, but hearty squeeze that almost caused Micah to trip over his own feet.
“If Gregory’s big tax breaks won’t work, can I tempt you with one of my not-so-famous mango margaritas?”
“Made with farm-fresh, organic ingredients?”
“Don’t ask, just drink,” Marlon teased.
Micah reached around and punched his brother’s right shoulder, a funny kind of “man hug” that was a tradition with them.
“Hangover coming right up.”
Marlon walked to the wrought iron patio table and grabbed a pitcher.
Micah chuckled when he poured a healthy serving of the frosty beverage into a margarita glass.
“Leave the man alone,” his father admonished. “Be glad he had the decency to grace us with his presence this time.”
Theodore (Theo) Langston swirled his half-filled glass of scotch and water from his seat under the edge of the table’s huge umbrella, setting himself apart from the family as usual. It occurred to Micah that he was somewhat like him, but in the next moment, he told himself that wasn’t true.
His father, a well-known personal injury attorney had the kind of class and style that could never be duplicated even though he was sometimes accused of being an ambulance chaser, mostly by jealous peers who couldn’t get, nor handle, his caseload. He dealt in slips and falls, auto accidents, medical malpractice and other injuries, for clients in Bay Point and surrounding cities in Northern California.
“Bad day at work, Dad?” Micah asked, dragging over a chair next to him. The harsh sound of iron on stone made everyone wince.
“Nah, the usual.” Theo raised his glass before draining the contents. “Since your brother became the mayor two years ago, my business has tripled, but I’m not complaining.”
He rubbed his stomach and turned to his mother. “When is dinner? I’m starving.”
She consulted her bracelet wristwatch, a family heirloom. Even though Micah wasn’t in to jewelry, the bone china face with tiny hands, surrounded in diamonds, always awed him. The elegance of the piece suited her perfectly.
“You know your father won’t eat a minute earlier than six p.m.”
Micah sighed. His family drove him crazy, but for the most part, they were normal. Still, he wasn’t so sure he liked being back home.
He stared at the ornate balcony that wrapped around the entire second floor. Growing up, the view from his room had beckoned him. First as a child watching the clouds move and the sun peek out, like his toes from under the bed sheets. Then as an adult, the view of the sun meant heat and surfing and pretty girls, and if he was lucky, a lot of sex.
There was Delores, his first, at age fourteen. Three years older with a driver’s license and a pierced tongue. Body shaped like one of his surfboards, small breasts, thin lips, she knew how to ride him. Whenever they made out, she had to tap him on the mouth to remind him to breathe again.
He wanted to breathe, soft and hot, with Jasmine, her accent curling his ear, her beautiful body cuddled against him. And then what?
I take off, he thought, just like the others.
Micah finished his margarita, his mind a whirl of thoughts as he fought again his desire for a woman he’d met only hours before.
He wouldn’t end up like Gregory who’d taken the plunge and married nearly two years ago. Vanessa was a florist and sole owner of Blooms in Paradise, a flower shop close to City Hall. They’d been childhood playmates that made mud pies and swung swings together. Now they were making babies.
“Where are Vanessa and little Lily?”
“Our sweet pumpkin has a bit of the sniffles so Vanessa decided to stay home and play it safe,” Gregory said.
Helen, who was delighted at having a grandchild, and a girl at that, frowned.
“She’s barely six months old. A cold could be dangerous. Was she seen by a doctor?”
“Yes, the very best,” Gregory replied. “Her grandfather.”
Helen closed her eyes briefly. “Of course she’d be seen by Vanessa’s father. He’s still chief of emergency, isn’t he?”
Gregory nodded. “Yes, and refuses to retire.”
“Likely because he would find himself with a new job, as your full-time babysitter,” Marlon drawled.
“Vanessa enjoys being at home,” Gregory shot back in a peeved tone. “Jewel is always happy to help out on our date nights.”
“She’s a nice woman,” Helen replied. “I’m glad you get along with your mother-in-law.”
Gregory gave her a kiss on the cheek, teasing. “I’m glad she gets along with you.”
She turned away. “What’s that supposed to mean? I’m easy to talk to.”
“In a crowd, perhaps, but not at home,” Marlon said, knowing everyone agreed with him. “You can be moody, Mom.”
“Why do you think Dad has to have two drinks before dinner?” Micah piped in.
“No,” his father insisted, drawing out the word. “It’s because I like them.”
“Wrong, Theo.” Helen placed a hand on his arm. “You like your little scotch and waters because you like to be right, and sometimes, when your sons or I am around, you have to admit you’re wrong.”
Micah popped on his phone. “It’s six o’clock. Time to go inside and chow down. I want to stop by the restaurant space and check it out before it gets too dark.”
The family left the patio and went through the living room to the formal dining room where Ginny Binslow, the Langstons’ longtime personal chef, was about to serve dinner. Micah didn’t know exactly how old she was, but she was like a second mother to him.
“I cooked your favorites,” she said, brown eyes in a round face gleaming. “Roast pork, mashed potatoes, fresh green beans and apple pie.”
“Thanks, you’re a doll.” Micah greeted her warmly with a peck on each cheek. “And if you want to hightail it out of this place, you know who to call.”
Ginny was the one who introduced him to a love of cooking by letting him help her prepare the meals at a very young age. He made his first Thanksgiving turkey by age seven, and won his first baking contest at age ten. She’d inspired and encouraged him to become a chef, much to the dismay of Helen, who only set foot in the kitchen to get to the second wing of the estate.
“Stop trying to steal Ginny,” Helen commanded, as they gathered around the large oak table.
Theo and Helen each sat at a head of the table, Gregory and Marlon on the side closest to the windows, and Micah opposite them. He felt like his two brothers were about to play good cop, bad cop, but at least he had a great view of the Pacific.
“Yeah, I’m hoping he’ll steal the hearts of Bay Pointers with his fabulous food,” Gregory said, accepting a platter of pork from Theo.
“If you need an architect, I know just the person. Liza Marbet. She designed the new cosmetic surgery clinic that opened six months ago. Her husband, Anthony owns it.”
“They had a huge gala there to celebrate the grand opening,” Gregory said. “Mom was in her element.”
“Dr. Marbet is a brilliant plastic surgeon. Although I don’t need their services, I did stop in to take a look,” Helen said. “It’s spa-like modern with clean lines and just enough oomph to make the space seem very personal.”
“Sounds nice, but I’ve got to get clearance on some building permits before I think about design.”
“I can take care of that, bro.” Gregory said. “Whatever you need.”
Micah dug in to his mashed potatoes and thought a moment before saying his next words. He didn’t want to offend his brother, but he had to make a few things clear.
“Gregory, I just want to make sure that nobody in town finds out about this project.”
His brother chewed, swallowed and stared at him. The other members of his family did the same.
“What’s the big secret?” Theo barked, waving a fork in the air. “Any new restaurant is great for business downtown. Yours is sure to be an instant hit.”
“More restaurants equal more competition, and some businesses can’t handle that,” Micah replied, surprised at his father’s positive comment. Maybe he was slowly coming around to the fact that his son was happy being a chef.
“I think he’s worried about generating buzz before any real decisions have been made,” Marlon guessed. “At this point, all you’ve done is buy the building.”
“Not me, personally,” Micah corrected. “It was purchased by a shell company managed by my business partners in order to make it difficult to trace back to me, to protect my privacy. But you’re right, I really need to keep a lid on this, and I’ll need everyone’s help.”
“We won’t tell a single living soul,” Helen said, patting his hand as her eyes met those of her husband and sons. “The Langston’s always stick together.”
Marlon made a big show of twisting his fingers to his mouth and fake-throwing away the key. He yowled when Gregory nudged him in the ribs. Even though he was the oldest, sometimes he was the least serious.
“The nondisclosure agreement the city signed helps, too,” Gregory affirmed. “But of course the family won’t breathe a word.”
Micah thanked them, and they continued with the meal.
The sun had nearly set over the Pacific, rendering the sky in painted stripes of orange and pink over twilight blue.
He had second helpings while Gregory and Theo argued over political issues, both local and national. Helen and Marlon talked about the books they were reading. He stayed quiet, and found his thoughts turning to Jasmine.
After dinner, he begged off coffee and left to go back downtown to check out the interior space, which he’d only seen in photos. To avoid any possibility of being seen by Jasmine, he would park in the alley behind the building and enter through the back door.
On his way there, he thought about his family. How he wished he could tell them the real reason why they had to keep his secret.
That a woman he barely knew had made his heart race, and his body heat, and he was already worried.
About her. About him. About their future.
* * *
Jasmine splashed cold water on her face, hoping it would perk her up. She’d been on the clock for over fourteen hours. Her feet hurt, her clothes were sweaty and her mood was dark.
When she told her closest friends she was leaving New Orleans to work in her grandmother’s restaurant, she’d laughed when they told her she was making a mistake.
She wasn’t laughing now.
They were building successful careers in business, law and medicine, while she was building blisters between her toes.
She grabbed a paper towel and dried her hands. It was nights like these, of which there were many, that she questioned her decision, and others, like hanging up on Micah. Disappointment spiraled through her whenever she thought about not hearing from him again.
If he wants me, he’ll call again, she assured herself.
Exiting the restroom, she stopped by the kitchen to make sure Lucy wasn’t there. After closing out the dinner register, she’d asked her to go upstairs and relax, but her grandmother was always hesitant. She was woe to admit she wasn’t as spry as she used to be.
Jasmine understood how hard it must be to let go of something she’d been doing for so many years. Her grandmother never said anything outright, but Jasmine could tell by the worry in her eyes that she was concerned about the future of the bar and grille.
Donnie and Gloria called out their goodbyes. When they left, she shut off the lights, removed her apron and sank down into a chair.
With a yawn she didn’t bother to cover, she trailed her hand listlessly across the café curtains, parting them, and looked outside. Night had fallen. The parking spaces were empty, giving her a clear view of the empty building across Magnolia Avenue.
She’d seen no work being done, at least on the outside, but there was brown paper on the windows so the inside of the space was hidden from view. Lucy said that the entire building used to be a grocery store, so the space was huge, and they often speculated what type of business might move in.
“It better not be another restaurant,” she muttered, letting the curtain fall back into place.
Although if it was, she was the best person to meet the challenge to her grandmother’s business. Her work at the agency on marketing strategies to identify and circumvent competition was one of the high points of her life and she was pretty good at it. Maybe she’d end up doing more for her grandmother than pouring beers and learning to cook.
Maybe she’d actually help Lucy save her business.
Jasmine decided to take a walk and clear her head before going to bed. After locking the front door, she glanced across the street and her breath caught in her throat.
A light swiveled inside the building, a muted glow like a flashlight under a sheet, intermittently and at different parts of the otherwise dark space. Before she knew what was happening, her feet began to move and she crossed Magnolia Avenue. Cupping her hands against the window glass, she peered in, not really expecting to see anything, and didn’t.
“What’s up, Jazzy?”
Jasmine spun on her sneakers, nostrils flaring, and was surprised to see Micah. She’d been so focused on trying to see the source of the light that she didn’t even see him approach.
“W-what are you doing here?”
She couldn’t stand it when folks called her “Jazzy” or worse, “Jaz,” and thought it was a form of subtle disrespect. But out of Micah’s mouth, it sounded sensual, like the flower for which she was named.
She looked left and right, disoriented to see him now, and so soon. The old-fashioned streetlights cast a yellowish glow on the sidewalk.
“Where did you come from?”
“My parents’ beach house. After dinner, I decided to come back downtown and see if I can get into any trouble.”
His eyes slid from her face all the way down her body, leaving jet-spurts of intense warmth she wanted to feel again.
She stepped closer, hand on her hip, wishing she’d changed out of her work clothes. He hadn’t changed his outfit either and she almost burst out laughing when she realized they were both undressing each other with their eyes.
“What did you have in mind?”
“A ride.” Her eyebrows shot up, until he thumbed backward. “On the Bay Point Carousel.”
“Oh,” she said, exhaling a slow breath.
“I detect a tone of disappointment, Miss Kennedy.”
“Not at all. The Carousel is fun.”
But not as much fun as riding on you would be, she thought, holding back a smile.
“Too bad it’s already shut down for the night. Last ride is at eight thirty.”
“Let’s go for a stroll anyway. I have a feeling that we both need to clear our heads.”
He crooked his right arm at the elbow. “Shall we?”
Jasmine ignored the gesture and walked away, knowing that if he touched her, she would find him even more difficult to resist. She told herself that the only reason she was heading east, and not going back across the street where she belonged, was because she was going to take a walk anyway.
“If you won’t take my arm, will you at least take my advice?” he asked, catching up to her.
Jasmine shrugged. “Depends on what it is.”
“Don’t go peering into windows that are papered over. Chances are the owner doesn’t want you to see what’s in there.”
She stopped in her tracks and stared up at him. “I was closing up the restaurant and thought I saw a light being waved around.”
At his skeptical look, she paused. “At least I think I did.”
“While you’re snooping, someone else is dialing nine-one-one.”
“I wasn’t snooping,” she insisted, poking him lightly in the chest. “Just like you didn’t lose your pen.”
He grinned. “The point goes to you. All I meant was that I would hate to have to bail you out of jail.”
“You could call in a favor with the mayor.”
“I could, if I knew you better.”
“Is that why you came back tonight, and why you called to bug me earlier today?”
“What do you think?”
“I don’t know. You just got home today. Any particular reason why you are back in town?”
“Just to relax and see my family.” He shrugged.
Jasmine folded her arms. “And you want to get away from them so soon?”
“Do you want to be around your family twenty-four-seven?”
“My folks don’t live on a palatial estate on the beach,” she tossed back in a breezy tone.
“Where are they? Back in New Orleans, I presume?”
She nodded. “My mother is but by dad lives in Baton Rouge. They divorced when I was twelve.”
As far as Jasmine was concerned, her grandmother was the only family she had right now.
He led her by the elbow to a bench near the carousel.
“I’d like to know more about you and Lucy.”
She glanced down Magnolia Avenue toward the restaurant.
“Why? The only thing you need to know is that she relies on me, so I better get back.”
He captured her hand, his touch gentle, but insistent.
“Stay with me a minute. Please?”
She paused for a moment, before sitting down.
“How do you like living in Bay Point so far?” he asked. “Complete opposite of New Orleans?”
She leaned back against the bench and nodded. “It’s small, quiet at night, maybe too quiet. I like the people for the most part. I like running on the beach, and the breezes that smell of salt and sand. I feel safe here.”
“Did something happen back in New Orleans?”
She swallowed hard, and wondered what he would think if she told him about her former boss.
“No, I just meant that there’s not a lot of crime here. I guess because it’s so small. I worry what will happen as the town continues to grow.”
“The police force will grow with it,” he said. “I know that Gregory is committed to continuing to bring new commerce into the town and more residents, but he’s also focused on keeping everyone safe, too.”
“That’s good to know. I heard he doesn’t want Bay Point to become a roadside tourist trap either.”
“I agree with him.” Micah crossed his legs at the ankles. “We’re close enough to the Pacific Coast Highway to be easily accessible, but not so close to have any drive-through restaurants. If people want to eat here, they have to park and get out of their cars.”
“Yes, people do tend to shop or check out the rest of the town, either before or after they eat.”
As the minutes passed, their conversation remained on the town. Micah, who claimed to be a local history buff, relayed some little-known stories that Jasmine found amusing, but far-fetched. She had a feeling that it would be easy for them to converse back and forth for hours on end.
“Tell me something. Why go through the trouble of getting to know me when you’re only just visiting for a few days?” she posed.
“That doesn’t mean we have to be strangers, does it?”
“I suppose we can start out as casual acquaintances,” Jasmine replied, giving in a little because she wanted to continue to see him.
“I don’t have a problem with that, if you promise to have dinner with me before I go.”
She pursed her lips. “I’m not sure I can spare the time. I work at the restaurant pretty much from sunup to sundown.”
“Doesn’t Lucy ever give you a break?”
“She’s the one who works too hard,” Jasmine said in her grandmother’s defense.
“Then I’ll just have to charm her into giving you a night off.”
“Ha! Give it a try, but she’s no fool, Micah. She told me all the Langston men were flirts.”
“And do you believe her?”
Jasmine folded her arms. “I’m still waiting for you to prove her right.”
Micah grinned. “Are you challenging me?”
“What do you think?”
He gave her a wide grin. “I think I like you. You’re beautiful, funny and—”
“Leaving,” she interrupted and stood, heart hammering in her chest.
Micah frowned. “Why so soon?”
“I’ve been away too long. I better go see if Lucy is okay.”
Living with her grandmother was a little like living with her parents, no privacy until after they were asleep. She couldn’t wait until she could get her own place.
“I’ll go with you.”
“No, I’d rather be alone right now. See you later.”
Jasmine walked away, feeling his eyes on her back. It took everything in her power to keep on going. When she got to the restaurant, she turned around and the park bench was empty.
* * *
Micah circled around City Hall, before heading back to the alley. Back in his car, he breathed a sigh of relief.
“That was too close,” he muttered and realized that keeping his restaurant a secret was going to be very stressful.
After he’d emerged from the alley next to Vanessa’s flower shop, which was seven stores down from his space, and saw Jasmine trying to peek into the windows, he’d hesitated even approaching her. But he had to find out what she’d seen, or even better, what she’d been doing.
She’d taken him totally by surprise.
Although she’d claimed she was only taking a walk, Micah was afraid that she’d already caught the “snooping bug,” which many residents seemed to have in spades. They were intelligent, inquisitive and never could seem to find the time to mind their own business.
Maisie Barnell, owner of the only bed-and-breakfast establishment in town, was known as the eyes and ears of Bay Point, but she did it because she cared about its people.
Micah twisted his lips, realizing that tonight at least, he was being somewhat of a snoop himself. At first, his whole point of inviting her to the carousel park was to distract her. He wanted to talk to her enough to make her forget whatever she saw even if it was only the light from his phone.
Later, as they began to talk, he wanted to learn more about her. When she talked about New Orleans, her tone sounded nostalgic, but he also caught a hint of fear when he asked if something bad had happened to her.
When she denied it, he sensed she was lying. Out of respect, he didn’t question her further, but he’d felt a surge of tenderness for her, wanting her to feel safe, no matter where she happened to be. Hoping that she felt at ease with him.
He felt confident she didn’t suspect him as the “intruder” or that she even saw anything at all. Still, he decided that he would call the contractor and have him triple the paper on the windows. He wasn’t going to take any chances of anyone in Bay Point finding out that he was part owner of the space.
He wanted to see Jasmine again. Not to cover his tracks, but to really get to know her this time. She’d been glib about his dinner invite, even though he was serious.
He knew firsthand that working in the restaurant business left very little time for a real relationship. Closing his eyes, he recalled hot and heavy trysts in supply closets, vacant hotel rooms in-between guest check-ins, even alleys like the ones behind his restaurant.
That’s not what he wanted with Jasmine.
He was eager to get back to his parents’ house and be alone in his room. He wanted to think about Jasmine, the glow of her skin under the streetlamps, and how the light cast shadows in the swell of her cleavage.
There was something about Jasmine that made him think she could be the woman who could finally make him set down roots, though not necessarily in Bay Point. He wanted her badly, but he had to move slowly. With so much at stake for both of them, he wasn’t sure it would be fair to take the chance, no matter where it would lead.
Chapter 3 (#u8b5865b9-933d-5d28-8247-201ee3f7f8fd)
Jasmine flipped the closed sign on the front door. Today was the annual Bay Point Bake-off, and apparently, it was a really big deal. For over thirty years, the event had been held at Bay Point Baptist Church. This year, the committee decided to move to Carousel Park, hoping the centralized location would help boost attendance.
Lucy had participated with one of her recipes for many years, but had never won anything except honorable mentions. She’d also been a judge. Several days ago, she’d fallen ill with a bad cold, and was too sick to work, let alone go anywhere outside of the apartment.
The bake-off had to be important for Lucy to close the restaurant early. Jasmine had told her grandmother that she could help Gloria cook, so they could remain open, instead of attending the bake-off. The event had been publicized on social media, and they were expecting a large crowd downtown.
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