The Offer She Couldn't Refuse Read online

  Jared paused to look at her as he finished mixing the last batch of drinks that had been requested. He placed them on the bar beside a half-empty bottle of wine. She was positively glowing, he thought.

  The glow of what his father had once referred to as “honest toil.”

  God, he hadn’t thought of that term for a long time. Or of his father, he realized.

  He supposed it was only natural. The familyoriented restaurant conjured up images of his own family, long since gone their separate ways. His mother, a widow now, had moved up north to be closer to her sister. His brother and sister lived in different cities these days. It had been a while since they’d all gotten together. What, four, five years now? He wasn’t sure. Maybe he’d give his mother a call later this week. Put Theresa on. He knew his mother would get a kick out of talking to her granddaughter.

  Jared roused himself. This wasn’t the time to get nostalgic. He was here to accomplish something. To find a chink in that coat of armor Demi wore like a second skin, and work at it until he got it to come off. If she was just willing to listen to reason, he knew he could make her see the merits of selling to Winfield rather than working herself into a frazzle trying to run a business.

  Not that she looked frazzled, he noted, wiping the water spots off the counter. That in itself seemed incredible, given the fact that she seemed to be everywhere at once. Every time he turned around, she was either checking on the food, helping to serve it or mingling with the guests.

  Eavesdropping, he’d discovered that she ran the kitchen like a drill sergeant, even ordering Theo around. But everyone accepted it and seemed to take it in stride. And no one took offense.

  Placing a tray with empty glasses on the counter, Demi came around to Jared’s side of the small, portable bar she’d put up in the room earlier:

  “You’re behind with the drinks.” Finding fault with him heartened her. Up until now, he seemed to be handling everything almost too well. “Need a hand?”

  Maybe it was his imagination, but for once she didn’t sound as if she absolutely loathed him. Progress.

  He offered her a contrite smile. “Sorry, I was just watching you in action and I guess I got caught up in the tailwind.” He took out more glasses from beneath the counter and started pouring wine into them. “You always move around this fast?”

  “Just when I’m awake.”

  Loading the glasses onto the tray faster than he was pouring, Demi elbowed Jared out of the way. She reached beneath the counter for a bottle of anisette. They were running low, she thought, wondering if she should send Lena to get another bottle.

  She poured two fingers’ worth of the clear liquid into a glass. “Things don’t get done by themselves.”

  “Apparently,” he said. Demi began to pick up the tray. “I’ll do that,” he told her. Very carefully he removed her hands before she had the opportunity to lift the tray. “It’s what I signed on for, remember?” he added when she looked at him in surprise.

  Inclining his head toward her, he picked up the tray and went to make the rounds.

  Demi reached for the glass of anisette and took the tiniest of sips as she watched Jared weaving through the crowd. Watched, too, as he garnered more than his share of appreciative looks from the women.

  Nothing had changed. She didn’t trust him. Not any further than she could throw that handsome, six-foot-something body of his. But she had to admit, she did like watching it move away from her. The man had a hell of a butt.

  Stunned at the direction her thoughts were taking, Demi pushed the glass of anisette aside. She hurried back to the kitchen to check on the main course.

  The warm flush that insisted on winding its way through her body only became more intense as she entered the kitchen.

  Theo looked up as he closed the oven door. “So, how is he doing?”

  Demi shrugged. It took her a second to remember why she’d come here. Panetta was definitely having a bad effect on her, she thought moodily. Was that why he’d volunteered? To make her crazy? “He hasn’t broken anything yet.”

  George floured the top of the worktable before he began making the next batch of pastries. He slanted a look toward his cousin. “I saw the way Melina Planteous was looking at him when the party started. I’d say he’s got her sewed up if he wants her.”

  “Melina?” She hooted. Jared and Melina—now that made a picture. “Well, she’s welcome to him.” For her money, they deserved each other. Melina was a twenty-four-carat gold digger. There’d be poetic justice in the two of them getting together.

  So why didn’t the thought give her any comfort?

  Demi blew out a long breath, her hands making fists on her hips.

  “What he wants, ladies and gentlemen,” she announced in case anyone was being taken in by Jared’s little volunteer act, “is the restaurant, and don’t you forget it. That’s why he’s putting on this whole act. Why should he help us?” she wanted to know. “The man doesn’t even know us.”

  “Maybe this will give him the opportunity to get to know us,” Theo pointed out.

  Demi smiled patiently at her grandfather. The man had a simple, kind heart. He didn’t understand devious people. That was for her to deal with. And deal with it she intended.

  But for now she allowed her grandfather his illusion that there was good in everyone. “If he wants to help out, fine. As long as he doesn’t mess up our system, he can help. But that doesn’t get him any closer to his goal.”

  “What if his goal isn’t the restaurant?”

  Demi turned around to look at her mother. She would say that. But her mother saw only what she wanted to see: a potential son-in-law in every man.

  Demi opened the oven door, determined to make her own assessment of the main course. “Of course it’s the restaurant.”

  Antoinette wiped her hands on her apron, her eyes on Demi. “And what if he is interested in you?”

  Demi sighed, closing the oven door. The lamb was progressing well. She, however, was not. They’d been through this already.

  Trying to talk sense into her, Demi placed her hands on her mother’s shoulders in a mute plea for support. “Ma, please, not now. He’s not interested in me. He just wants to get his hands on the restaurant for his boss, the almighty Winfield Monopoly.”

  Lena walked in on the last part of the minidebate. She set her empty tray on the edge of the worktable, eyeing Demi. “Maybe, but I’d say that’s not all he’d like to get his hands on.”

  Vindicated, Antoinette gestured at the younger woman with a triumphant sweep of her hand.

  “See, Lena agrees with me. She has eyes. You,” she lamented, “you are like your father.” Antoinette shook her head sorrowfully. “You see nothing but work, work, work.”

  She’d had enough of this. Demi wiped her hands and swiftly loaded several orders of freshly baked bread onto her tray.

  “That’s because we have bills, bills, bills, Ma. Not to mention a very hefty note coming due from the bank.” She looked at the woman pointedly. “Somebody has to take care of business around here.” Her mother was a babe in the wood when it came to figures in a column. Her understanding of finances ended with the amount of money she found in her wallet.

  “You tell ‘em, kiddo,” Theo encouraged, his thick Greek accent incongruent with the American slang.

  He had a weak spot in his heart for his only granddaughter. Far too busy working to notice his children when they were growing up, he’d tried to make up for what he had missed by being part of Demi and Guy’s formative years. And so far he was well pleased with the results he’d seen.

  “Thank you.” Demi kissed her grandfather’s grizzled cheek. At least someone was on her side, she thought, walking out.

  “You did well,” Demi said grudgingly.

  Jared looked over his shoulder, surprised. He hadn’t heard her walk up behind his chair. He’d thought he was alone in the banquet room. The party had finally broken up half an hour ago, running two hours over. He’d seen a
heavy-set, florid-faced older man he’d assumed was the head of the large, sprawling clan slip Demi a wad of money earlier. It was to buy them a little extra time, Lena had explained to him when he asked.

  Jared had a strong hunch Demi would have allowed them to remain even without the added money.

  The bits and pieces of conversation he’d picked while serving and clearing, bits and pieces he’d hoped would ultimately help him when he tried to convince her to sell again, confirmed the preliminary check he’d run himself on her business. Demi knew how to run a restaurant efficiently, but she allowed her heart to get in the way of accounts due. It gained her gratitude and a growing number of friends, but didn’t put a dent in the debts that were mounting somewhere on her desk. Growing like mushrooms in the dark.

  He wondered if she even knew they were there. Probably not, given the condition of that claustrophobia-inducing room.

  He smiled up at her. It’d been a long time since he’d felt so physically tired. Even workouts at the gym hadn’t produced this kind of exhaustion. This was the first time he’d sat down in over five hours. Demi, he noted, had been on her feet just as long. In heels. And she was still standing.

  “You say that as if you expected me to break every dish in the place.”

  She shrugged. “Not every dish. Besides, I told you earlier you’d have to pay for them if you did. I wasn’t worried.”

  He saw what looked like a smile playing on her lips. Nice, he thought. A smile looked nice on her. “You looked too busy to be worried about me.”

  And there was why he wouldn’t win, she thought in tired satisfaction. He underestimated her. “You’re wrong. I always watch my back.”

  He pretended to lean around her to look at it himself, then raised his eyes to hers.

  “Neat trick. You’ll have to teach it to me sometime. I’d say that would be anatomically tiring. How about I watch your back for you for a while?” His eyes teased her. “It’s a very nice back to watch.”

  Her brow rose. She had to be careful. She must really be tired. Panetta was beginning to sound charming to her. But as long as she knew his motives, she’d be all right.

  “You’re the reason I’m watching it.” Maybe it was because she felt so tired, but she couldn’t seem to keep the smile from her lips. “You always flirt with everyone you try to take over?”

  He rose to his feet. His body just missed brushing against hers. Jared silently lamented the extra space. It would have been nice to feel her against him, even fleetingly. Maybe even safer that way.

  He looked down into her face now. “No, flirting isn’t part of the job description.”

  It was getting warm again. She was going to have to take a look at the thermostat and see what was wrong with it. “But deception is.”

  “I’m not deceiving you, Demi,” he said softly. “I said I was a nice guy and I am.”

  She felt as if her breath had suddenly lost its way. “How nice?”

  The look in his eyes made her even warmer. “What did you have in mind?”

  She stepped back. She had to. All the air was gone from where she’d been standing. “The kitchen needs cleaning.”

  It took him a moment to regroup. Her answer wasn’t what he’d expected.

  “Okay,” he allowed gamely. “Just let me call my daughter and say good-night and I’ll get right on it.”

  Demi waved him back before he had a chance to go to her office and use her phone. A man who remembered to call his daughter before she went to bed at night couldn’t be all bad. Even if Demi wanted him to be.

  “I was just kidding. Go home to your daughter, Mr. Panetta,” she told him, sighing. “You did your part.”

  He turned and this time, he did brush against her. The resulting spark smoldered until it ignited something else within him. He searched her face, wondering if what he felt was just his imagination. Or if she’d felt it, too.

  “Do you think that you could find it in your heart to call me Jared?”

  She slowly moved her head from side to side, held fast by the look in his eyes. “No.”

  “What can you find it in your heart to call me?”

  His smile coaxed an image from the recesses of her mind. An image of him holding her. She tried to banish it.

  But when he slipped his hands around her waist, she didn’t back away. “You don’t want to know.”

  “Yes,” he said, his arms tightening just enough to make her move closer to him, “I do.”

  Demi swallowed. Move, damn it, she warned herself. She didn’t listen.

  “An oily snake.”

  “Ouch, that’s a cruel one.” Linking his fingers with hers, Jared took her hand and slowly ran it through his hair. “See, dry. No oil.”

  A feeling swirled through her. A feeling that quickened in places she didn’t want quickening. Tired. She was definitely tired. Otherwise, she would have never been here, in this position. In his arms.

  With his lips coming far too close to hers for comfort.

  And, if she hadn’t been so damn tired, she would have certainly had more sense than to be standing up on her toes to cut the last bit of distance between them.

  But she was, and she did.

  And as soon as she did, she knew there was going to be hell to pay.

  5

  If this was hell, it certainly wasn’t the one she’d been taught about as a child. That one, an ancient priest had warned her and the other children in her class, was comprised of fire and brimstone, reserved for the wicked of heart.

  This wasn’t like that at all.

  Not that there wasn’t fire, or at least heat, because there was. Lots and lots of heat. So much so that Demi felt as if she were going to melt right here in his arms. Any minute now, he was going to find himself trying to hold on to a puddle instead of a woman.

  Her heart pounding rapidly, Demi slanted her mouth avidly against his. Passion surged through her as she lost all feeling in her legs.

  Didn’t matter. She didn’t need them. She was holding on to him.

  No, not hell, heaven, she amended as she completely lost her way and herself in the bargain. Very definitely heaven. Heaven with a broken thermostat.

  She felt like a tuning fork that had been struck on the side of a cast-iron cannon; every bone, every muscle, every single fiber in her body was vibrating madly as Demi clung to his arms. Vaguely she realized that she was trying to rally enough strength to push away, but she wasn’t entirely sure why.

  Why would anyone push away from heaven?

  Framing her face between his hands, Jared deepened the kiss.

  Pleasure spilled over him. It drew him further and further into the kiss, into a wonder he couldn’t begin to understand or even describe to himself. His resistance to it was like a handkerchief being dropped on top of a grape juice stain. More and more of the stain crept into the fabric until all of it was completely consumed with it.

  Consumed with her.

  Resistance, if he even had enough brain power to contemplate it, was futile.

  He gave up all attempts at thinking clearly. Jared wrapped his arms around her. Whether it was to bring Demi closer to him or to seal himself to her, he wasn’t sure.

  What he was sure of was that he wanted more of whatever it was he was sampling. Infinitely more. His thirst wasn’t quenched, it was merely whetted.

  She made him feel like a man walking out of a tomb, into the light. He’d been buried too soon. He was still alive, very much alive.

  A door slammed somewhere in the distance. Maybe even in another world. The sound penetrated their world only slowly.

  “Demetria, do you want me to lock up?” The question, guilelessly posed, was followed by an abrupt, deafening silence.

  Theo’s voice dropped on her like a bucket of cold water, making her gasp. Demi jerked away from Jared, pushing him back for good measure. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, in her throat, even in her ears. This was not good.

  Theo looked from one to the o
ther, realizing only belatedly, that he had walked in on something.

  “Oh, I see. You are already locked up.” He raised his hamlike hands to ward off his own words. “Excuse an old man, I make a mistake. I see nothing.” He began to back out of the banquet room, taking small, cautious steps. His hands remained raised. “The doctor, he says I should have glasses, but me, I say no. I see what I need to see, nothing more,” he assured them. He turned, his hand on the doorknob. “So, I do not see this.”

  Oh, Lord, not only had she done something incredibly stupid, but she had done it in front of a witness.

  “Theo—”

  Her grandfather’s name came out in a squeak. Demi cleared her throat, trying again, not having a clue what to say to him. All she was aware of was that the rat next to her had the gall to grin at her dilemma.

  “Theo, I—we—that is—” The words came out no better without the squeak.

  “Yes.” Her grandfather’s broad, amused smile lifted his bushy mustache. “I know.” His eyes were twinkling. “I will go now.” He left before she could make a move to stop him.

  Annoyed, frustrated and flustered, Demi dragged her hand through her hair. Why had Theo have to pick this moment to walk in? Why hadn’t he just gone home the way she’d told him to? And why the hell had she allowed Panetta to kiss her when she knew what kind of a snake in the grass he was?

  And worst of all, why had she enjoyed it?

  Her hair fell back against her face like a swinging, black mop. “Well, that’s going to be impossible to explain.”

  Maybe it was a good thing the old man had walked in when he did. Otherwise, Jared wasn’t sure he could have readily stopped what they were on the edge of having happen. Now he’d never know, but it was probably better that way. He didn’t want to get into any sticky, unethical areas.

  Because his body still felt relatively unstable, Jared leaned a hip against the portable bar. He nodded toward the door Theo had gone through.

  “Do you always explain to your grandfather what you do?”