The memory wafted past her and the familiar hurt panged. “No. I didn’t know Andy at the time, and my grandmother was too old to bother with my problems. She ended up passing months after the miscarriage.”

He cursed and squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry, baby. I hate knowing you were alone.”

“I don’t feel alone anymore.”

Gavin sucked in his breath at her admission. Pressed a tender kiss against her palm. “You’ll never be alone again.” They ate their cereal in comfortable silence, until all the chocolate milk had properly been slurped up. “Tell me about your grandmother. I want to know more about her. Did she get you into cooking?”

“Yes. We were really close, and she inspired me to be a chef. She believed in making everything by hand, and we didn’t even own a microwave. Food was an art form, and I was taught about texture, flavor, herbs. She had a palette like a master.”

“She sounds just like you.”

Miranda nodded. “When I brought my dolls in for a party, we never had just tea. We had a four-course meal.” Gavin laughed. “She had bright red hair like me and a famous temper. If I stepped out of line, I paid dearly.”

“You never talk about your parents.”

A breath shuddered from her chest. He reached over and cupped his palms over her cheeks. As if he sensed something deep shift inside of her, he pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. “You can tell me, Miranda.”

She nodded, and confessed another one of her secrets. “My mom got pregnant with me when she was a teenager. My grandmother encouraged her to have the baby and marry the father, but my dad refused and took off before I even came. He didn’t want to be married, or be tied down with a child. After my mom had me, she had a rough time with depression. She got into drugs, and spent years on the street. My grandmother raised me, and tried to get my mom help, but she didn’t want any. She disappeared, and we’ve never heard from her again.” A shrug lifted one shoulder. “I guess no one really wanted me enough.”

He pressed his forehead against hers and spoke the words against her lips. “Your grandmother wanted you and loved you.” Gavin paused. “And I want you and love you, Miranda.”

Joy shimmered in waves and crushed the last of the dark. Gavin put the bowls in the sink, wiped her mouth carefully with a napkin, and placed a kiss on her lips. She leaned into his strength and rested her head on his shoulder. This time, when he led her back to bed, their lovemaking took on a sacred tenderness that shook her soul and made her realize she’d never be the same woman again.

…

Gavin punched in the number of the code for the conference call and set up the Skype. The last thing he wanted to do was play corporate executive, but Sam insisted. The younger executive was Gavin’s right-hand man, and if Gavin succeeded, he succeeded. He was due in China soon, and the set up was key. Unfortunately, MacKenzie and Associates believed he was the only one able to target the huge electronics corporation and make their dream come true.

Dreams in the business world revolved around money. Or prestige. Or power.

Now, he’d be at the top of the food chain, amidst it all. Full partner.

So, why did the thought of leaving make him slightly ill?

The familiar pang beat through him as his colleague came over the screen.

“Tell me you’re done playing waiter and getting your ass on a plane, Gavin.”

He chuckled at the image before him. The pinstripe suit, red tie, and conservative hair cut looked the same on everyone at the firm. His hand automatically checked the length of his hair and realized he needed to get a cut. The shaggy ends looked ragged and reminded him of a surfer dude.

“My three months aren’t up, Sam. Don’t tell me you’re so intimidated you can’t take a step without me.”

His friend flashed a set of perfect white teeth. “Touché. I’m sending you some files I need you to study. Weaknesses and strengths of upper management. Some names of the lovely administrative assistants.” He waggled his brow. “Janitorial staff is pretty tight, but I found a guy who’s willing to tattle if we need leverage.”

His normal business tactics suddenly seemed…wrong. If they battled with another company, creativity for the campaign was number one. Number two was who you knew, what information you owned, and a little blackmail never hurt gaining the upper hand. Gavin shook off the wimpy inner voice causing havoc with his meeting. “Sure. I’ll look at them tonight. I need to—”

“Gavin! We got a crisis, you gotta get out here.”

He swiveled in his chair and glared at his brother. “Out, Brando. I’m on a conference call.”

“Dude, you know that new assistant chef you hired?”

“Yeah.”

“Tony found him tweaking the special behind his back. They had a fight about how to prepare it, because this guy thinks he’s a serious foodie. Tony put him in his place, but just found him changing the spices on his own. He insisted on saffron, saying it brought the fish to a higher flavor, but it’s a fucking Italian special!”

His head pounded and Gavin rubbed his temple. “Umm, okay, I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Fine. But the dude has a black eye and he called the police to press charges against Tony.”

“Fuck. I’m coming.”

“Thought so.” Brando waved to the guy on the screen and left.

Sam cackled. “You have got to be kidding me. You’re settling brawls between chefs? You’re starting to scare me, Gavin. Come on, leave early. It’ll be like the old days. The lure of a challenge, partying at the top clubs, posh hotels. I’m setting up some free time while we’re there, for touring. I know you like that.”

The world he lusted after throughout his youth now seemed tainted and old. He should be dying to get back in the game. He always hated the restaurant industry. Late nights, hard work, low profit. Crazy chefs, hard ass critics, and nothing to show for it but a plate of good food.

Then why did it feel lately like he was finally home?

“I’ll get back to you tomorrow, Sam. I can’t leave yet.”

“Your funeral, man. See ya.”

The screen went dark.

He jumped out of the chair and shot into the kitchen. Jules, the assistant chef, held a piece of raw meat on his eye. Why the hell did he use the good ribeye instead of an ice pack? Tony ranted in Italian about betrayal and codes and honor. Brando hung on to Tony’s arm, and Pop looked on the whole episode with a confused expression on his face. Ah, crap, another nightmare. What would happen when he left?

“Jules, let’s talk. No need to bring police into our business.”

“Bullshit.” The rounding out of his consonants gave him an odd accent Gavin could never place. “I am humiliated. I try to make the food better and I get a black eye. I will be throwing him into jail.”

Tony’s face reddened. “Try it. I’ll smear your reputation all over the city. You will never work again in this town!”

Yep. Tony had been watching those damn Italian movies again and was deep into his role.

Pop recovered and looked Tony in the eye. “As Sinatra would say: ‘I did what I had to do and saw it through without exemption.’ You must do it your way.”

Everyone stopped and stared at his father. Then, with a serious nod, he lapsed back into silence.

Gavin quickly grabbed Jules and walked him away, murmuring soothing phrases and swearing to fire Tony’s ass. As he spoke, he swiftly catalogued all the information he’d learned before hiring Jules. “I understand your situation. I just hope you will understand mine once the police arrive.”

The chef frowned. “What do you mean?”

Gavin sighed and lifted his hands. “You call the police. Tony goes to jail. I have no recourse but to call my lawyer. He will dig into your past and find that awful predicament you were in.”

Jules cringed. “No! You would dredge up something so painful? I had nothing to do with that girl. She was legal.”

Gavin nodded. “I know. Again, my hands are tied. It is the way the game is played, no? Lawyers are a horrible bunch.”

One beat. Two. Three.

“Forget it. I’m leaving. I want nothing to do with this restaurant.”

Gavin watched as the man untied his apron, ripped off his hat, and marched out.

His muscles sagged with relief. Another disaster averted. His father patted him on the shoulder. “Good work, son. That could have been an extremely bad scene.”

The realization socked him in the gut. His father couldn’t run this place anymore. He had no idea how to solve a crisis, other than quoting Sinatra. Brando tried but was just too young. Tony’s temper was legendary. He turned and faced his staff. “How are you going to handle these situations when I’m gone?”

The men shared a shocked look. Brando lifted his chin. “What are you talking about? I thought you decided to stay. Work with us long-term. You can’t run off when Mia Casa is just starting to turn around.”

His voice came out cold and clipped. “I can’t keep babysitting everyone. I told you up front I had twelve weeks and then I was going back. They need me.”

Tony cleared his throat. “We need you, dude. You belong here.”

His father inclined his head. “A choice must be made soon. Frank faced many in his day. We need you to seriously consider staying with us, Gavin. Promise you will at least think about the possibility.”

The words stuck in his throat. The faces in front of him reflected an open longing that tore him apart. He’d never asked for this. His intentions had always been clear, and God knows, the guilt began to choke him. “Fine. I’ll think about it. That’s all I can say for now.”