"I can understand that." He picked up his water gla.s.s. "Did you like the city?"

"New York? G.o.d, yes. I loved it and not just the glamorous parts. I liked the way those street vendors' carts smell. You know the ones. With the roasting nuts?"

He nodded.

"And when I walked down Fifth Avenue at night, I could see that the sidewalk had flecks of mica or quartz or something in it that sparkled under the street lamps. I liked the rush of the taxis and the shouts of the drivers. The horns. I liked Times Square with all the people and the lights." She cut herself off abruptly, as if enjoying the memories was too much of a guilty pleasure.

"Do you get down much anymore?"

"No. Although I do fantasize sometimes of moving there still. Which is ridiculous."

"Why?"

"It's never going to happen."

"Why not?"

Her brows twitched and her mouth flattened into a thin line. "There's White Caps for one thing. And my family. Joy needs me."

"But she's in her mid-twenties now, right? She's an adult so you're free. What's holding you here?"

She waved her hand through the air, as if his challenge was smoke she could bat away. "Let's change the subject."

"Why?"

"Because you're my chef, not my psychiatrist." With that, she picked up the bottle of wine and seemed a little surprised when it was almost empty. She looked at his gla.s.s, which was full. "You didn't like the taste?"

He shrugged. "I'm not a big drinker. The stuff's good in sauces and to clear the palate. Otherwise I avoid alcohol."

She sat back, studied him. "Any particular reason?"

"My father was a drunk." Her brows lifted with compa.s.sion. "Yeah, the smell of mixed drinks, especially anything with scotch in it, reminds me of him so I can't stomach the hard stuff. Wine's part of my job so I have a professional relationship with it."

"Do you see your father at all?"

"He's been dead for almost five years."

She put her fork down. "I'm sorry."

"I'm still not sure if I am, to tell you the truth."

Frankie considered him thoughtfully. "And your mother?"

"A little of her goes a long way. Fortunately, my brother tows the mark on that one. He takes care of her, thank G.o.d."

"Is she ill?"

"Healthy as a horse. But she could never support herself." Not with the kind of money she burned through on a monthly basis.

Frankie pushed her food around. Her face was full of concentration, as if she was trying to frame a difficult question.

"Have you ever been married?" she asked abruptly.

"No."

She fiddled with her mashed potatoes. "You say that as if marriage is an ugly thing."

His chest was speared again and his eyes shot over to the children at the counter. He thought of Celia, the woman he'd almost made his wife because he'd gotten her pregnant. The woman who'd taken his child away from him by going to a clinic and terminating the pregnancy.

Their pregnancy.

"You need any dessert?" he asked, not interested in food anymore.

"Don't you want a family someday?"

"Nope." He'd already tried that and had gotten burned so badly he couldn't stand to be around kids anymore.

"Have you ever been in love?"

"I thought we weren't going to be friends," he said gruffly. "So what's with the personal questions?"

"I'm just curious. Most people want to get married eventually, settle down, have-"

"Not me." There was a pause as she seemed to digest the brush-off. "You want a doggie bag for all that?"

She looked down at her full plate.

"George would like this," she allowed.

He called the waitress over and managed to pay for dinner before Frankie could. When they stood up to go, she looked over at David and his daughters. Gave them a little wave on the way out the door.

Thanks to the surfacing of both his past and hers, the air was thick between them as they walked over to the Honda. Parked next to it was a ma.s.sive, shiny Mercedes Benz.

"I should drive," he said.

She tossed him the keys and then eyed the luxury sedan. "David always did like a big car. Fortunately for him, he could afford them."

When they were on the road, she looked over at him. "I don't want to go home yet."

"Fine with me. Where to?"

"Let's just drive. I don't care where we end up."

Frankie rolled down the window. She hadn't eaten much and the wine was doing its job, making her body lethargic and her head fuzzy. Because she was looking for a diversion and also because she really wanted to know more, she was tempted to press Nate about his past. But he was right. There was no need for her to be asking questions about his love life.Although she had to wonder about the bitterness in his voice when he'd spoken about marriage...Had some woman done a number on him? If so, she couldn't blame him for not wanting to go into his ex-files. David was a hot b.u.t.ton for her, too.

She looked at Nate. "I hate running into him."

His eyebrows rose. "David?"

"Every time I see him, he's wearing the same hangdog expression he had on the day I called off the engagement. It's like he knows he was a coward. And maybe I should get some perverse pleasure out of the fact that ten years later he still feels badly, but I don't. I see him and his children and that fancy car and I want to remind him that he has it all. What the h.e.l.l is he moping about? He's enjoying the big life in the city while I'm stuck here sc.r.a.ping out a living." She expelled a breath, anger surging as she imagined confronting him. "So don't come up to me looking like you're mourning something you're no doubt tickled freakin' pink that I let you bow out of gracefully! And grow up while you're at it! Be a man!"

She let her head fall back against the seat rest. "Sorry. I guess he's not in this car, is he?"

Nate laughed softly. "Not unless he snuck in the trunk."

"Then again, maybe he heard me back at the diner." She took a deep breath. "Sorry I yelled."

"I'd tell you to do it some more but I know that would shut you up faster than a strip of duct tape over that mouth of yours. So I'm just going to keep driving and hope you don't come to your senses."

"Why?" she whispered. "Why are you being so nice to me?"

He frowned, his eyes narrowing on the road. "Because you deserve it."

She fought against a tide of foolish grat.i.tude. "Even after what I said when you cleaned out the walk-in? Even after that day on the mountain?"

"Yeah. Even so. You can be a real pain in the a.s.s, but I think that's because you've had to be strong for so long. I don't mind cutting you some slack."

Tears p.r.i.c.ked at the corners of her eyes. "Well. How about that."

They drove along in silence for a while and then she said, "Take a left up here. There's a great view of the lake at the top of this mountain."

He downshifted and took them to the summit. There were a few other cars in a small parking lot, well-s.p.a.ced. It didn't take a genius to figure out what was going on inside of them.

Nate pulled into a slot at the far end and turned off the ignition.

She looked across the seat at his profile. "Tell me more about your family."

"Don't have much to tell."

"Which means there's probably too much to talk about, right?"

He smiled, his teeth flashing white in the darkness. "No. It means exactly what I said. They're not part of my day-to-day life."

"Where did you grow up?"

"Outside of Boston."

She waited for him to continue. When he didn't, she asked, "What about your brother. What does he do for a living?"

"He's a business guy. He's also into public service."

"That's admirable."

"Yeah. I respect the h.e.l.l out of him." Nate shifted in the driver's seat, turning so he was facing her with one arm draped over the steering wheel. "So about us working together. Some things have to change."

She let her head fall back against the rest again.

Maybe it was the wine, but she suddenly didn't want to talk anymore. What she wanted was for him to lean over and kiss her on the mouth. Hard.

"What are your terms?" she murmured. "And you might as well know you have me over a barrel. I have to come up with $150,000 by the end of October."

He whistled softly and rubbed his jaw. "Will you be able to cover the debt?"

"If we do six more weeks of good summer business, I think I can make it because the leaf peepers come in the early fall. But it's going to be really tight. Especially if you leave. I've already put some feelers out for someone to replace you, but everyone's committed through Labor Day."

She stretched her legs out, until her feet got squeezed under the glove compartment. She hated anyone having power over her, but she wasn't stupid. She really needed Nate to stay.

"So what do you want?" she asked, not bothering to hide the acrimony in her voice.

"First of all, tell the guests to keep their children out of my kitchen. Twice this past week, I've been at the stove and some kid's come running in, looking for something to eat. They stay out of my s.p.a.ce, got it?"

There was some serious tension in his voice and she wondered what it was all about. She could fully understand the safety issue, but she sensed there was something more.

"You don't like kids, do you?"

"Second, if business continues to be strong for another week, I want to hire a line cook. Nothing fancy and we could probably just find one through the want ads. George has come a long way, but he needs supervision and I don't want him hurt."

Nice avoidance of the question, she thought. Though the tone in his voice answered it well enough.

The man didn't want a wife. Didn't want children.

No wonder he was so comfortable with casual s.e.x. It was either that or the life of a monk. And given the strength of his s.e.x drive, she couldn't imagine he'd spend a single moment considering a life of celibacy.

"I have one more demand." Nate drummed his fingers on the dashboard. "If I stay, I want to spend some time with you. Alone."

Her head whipped around so fast, she pulled a neck muscle. "What?"

Nate watched her jerk to attention. "I think you heard me."

In the silence that ensued, she stared at him as if he'd lost his mind. h.e.l.l, maybe he had.

But that just meant he was a crazy man with some serious leverage. She needed him. And he knew what he wanted in return. He'd tried the direct route with her and been shut down. He'd tried ignoring the attraction. Yeah, right, that had worked. So maybe he could strike a deal.

"I am not going to sleep with you to keep my house," she told him flat out.

Ouch. That wasn't what he meant.

"d.a.m.n, woman, you really know how to throw an insult, don't you," he muttered. "Do you have a p.i.s.s poor opinion of all men or is it just me in particular?"

"Come on, what am I supposed to think? You remind me that we're not supposed to be friends and then want to spend time with me. What are we going to do? Play Scrabble?"

Well, jeez, he wasn't an animal, for G.o.d's sake.

Nate measured the curve of her lips.

He wasn't a total animal.

And the reason he'd brought up the friend's only rule was to get her off the subject of his past. It was just a conversational obstacle he'd put up.