Her eyebrows rose. "Interesting. A gunslinger coming in to clean up the town. I think I like that." She drew in a breath. "How about five percent of the profits, a three-year deal, I get some say in the next GM and I take my specialty items with me." She held up her hand. "But only to my own place and you can keep them on The Waterfront menu as well."

He wasn't surprised she wanted to branch out on her own. Most good chefs did. Few had the capital or the management skills.

"Oh, and that salary you offered me before was fine," she said.

"Of course it was," he told her. "That a.s.sumed you didn't get this other stuff. How many are you bringing with you?"

"Two. My sous-chef and my a.s.sistant."

Chefs usually came with a small staff. As long as they worked well with the others in the kitchen, Cal didn't care.

"You'll never take the vacation," he said. At least she never had before.

"I want it," she said. "Just so we're clear, I will be using it."

He shrugged. "Not until we're up and running."

"I was thinking late summer. I'll have everything together by then."

Maybe. She hadn't seen the mess yet.

"Is that it?" he asked.

She considered for a second, then shrugged. "Get me the offer in writing. I'll look it over and then let you know if we have a deal."

"You'd never get this much anywhere else. Don't pretend you'll back out."

The smugness returned. "You never know, Cal. I want to hear what your compet.i.tion puts on the table."

"I know who's interested. They'll never cut you in for that much of the profit."

"True enough, but their restaurants are successful. A smaller percentage of something is better than a big chunk of nothing."

"This could make you a star," he said. "People would notice."

"People already notice."

He wanted to tell her she wasn't all that special. That he could name five chefs who would do as good a job. The problem was he couldn't. In the past three years, Penny had made a name for herself. He needed that to dig The Waterfront out of its hole.

"I'll have the agreement couriered over to your place tomorrow afternoon," he said.

She practically purred her contentment. "Good."

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"Oh, yeah. I won't even mind working for you because every time you p.i.s.s me off, I'm going to remind you that you came looking for me. That you needed me."

Revenge. He respected that. It annoyed him, but he respected it.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked as she picked up a pecan. "You got out of the family business years ago."

Back when they'd been married, he thought. He'd escaped, only to be dragged in again.

"Someone had to save the sinking ship," he said.

"Yes, but why you? You don't care about the family empire."

He threw twenty dollars on the table and slid out of the booth. "I'll need your answer within twenty-four hours of you getting the contract."

"You'll have it the following morning."

"Fair enough." He dropped a business card next to the money. "In case you need to get in touch with me."

He walked out of the restaurant and headed for his car. Penny was going to say yes. She would screw with him a little, but the deal was too good for her to pa.s.s up. If she pulled it off, if she made The Waterfront what it had once been, then in three years she would have more than enough capital to start her own place.

He would be gone long before that. He'd agreed to come in temporarily to get things up and running, but he had no desire to stay to the bitter end. His only concern was saving the sinking ship. Let someone else shine it up and take all the glory. He was only interested in getting out.

PENNY WALKED into the Downtown Sports Bar and Grill a little after two in the afternoon. The lunch crowd had pretty much cleared out, although a few diehards sat watching the array of sports offered on various televisions around the place.

She headed directly for the bar and leaned against the polished wood. "Hi, Mandy. Is he in?" she asked the very large-breasted blonde polishing gla.s.ses.

Mandy smiled. "Hi, Penny. Yeah. He's in his office. Want me to bring you anything?"

Caffeine, Penny thought, then shook her head. "I'm good."

She walked to the right of the bar, where a small alcove offered restroom choices, a pay phone and a door marked Employees. From there it was a short trip to Reid Buchanan's cluttered office.

He sat behind a desk as big as a full-size mattress, his feet up on the corner, the telephone cradled between his ear and his shoulder. When he saw her, he rolled his eyes, pointed at the phone, then waved her in.

"I know," he said as she wove her way around boxes he had yet to unpack. "It is an important event and I'd like to be there, but I have a prior engagement. Maybe next time. Uh-huh. Sure. You, too."

He hung up the phone and groaned. "Some foreign government trade show c.r.a.p," he said.

"What did they want you to do?" she asked as she swept several folders off the only other chair in the office and sank onto the hard wood seat. She dumped the folders onto his already piled desk.

"Not a clue. Show up. Smile for pictures. Maybe give a speech." He shrugged.

"How much were they willing to pay you?"

He dropped his feet to the floor and turned to face her. "Ten grand. It's not like I need the money. I hate all that. It's bogus. I used to play baseball and now I'm here. I've retired."

Just last year, Penny thought. With the start of the regular season just weeks away, Reid had to be missing his former life.

She poked at one of the piles on the desk, then glanced at him. "I distinctly remember you saying you wanted a desk big enough to have s.e.x on. It was a very specific requirement when we went shopping for one. But if you keep it this messy, no one will be interested in getting naked on its very impressive surface."

He leaned back in his chair and grinned at her. "I don't need the desk to get 'em naked."

"So I've heard."