The Saturday Night Supper Club Read online

  “Yes, you are. But lucky for me, I’m not easily scared. For the record, I’m very certain I would have liked you even when you were running the restaurant. There’s something sexy about a woman in charge.”

  He edged closer, and she turned into him. “Oh yeah?”

  He tipped her chin upward and kissed her again, her response immediately igniting desire in him. It didn’t take a mind reader to know she’d avoided men in the past, so her openness with him was an undeniable stroke to his ego. When she pulled away and whispered, “Maybe you should take me home now,” it took several seconds to grasp her true meaning and not the racier alternative that sprang to mind.

  “Are you sure?” His lips found her neck for the briefest, most tempting moment. “It’s such a pretty night for stargazing.”

  “Liar.” Her voice came out breathless. “You’re not paying attention to the sky anyway.”

  He nipped her earlobe with his teeth, and her hands fisted his shirt in response, giving him another jolt of serious want. “Maybe you’re right. Much longer and I’m not going to want you to leave.”

  “Much longer and I’m not going to want to leave.” She muttered the words to herself like a warning as she put aside the blanket and got to her feet.

  “Hey.” He tugged her back into his arms and pressed a barely-there kiss to her lips. “I want you to know I wasn’t trying to pressure you into anything. You can trust me.”

  Her eyes searched his face as if she were trying to read the truth of his words. Then she gave him a little enigmatic smile. “Drive me home now?”

  “Of course.” He picked up their dishes and carried them downstairs. He watched the unsteady, uncertain way she gathered her things, simultaneously puzzled and fascinated. This might be the first time he’d ever really seen her unsure of herself. Even after their first kiss, she’d taken back her control immediately, the capable chef firmly back in place. The tentative way she took his hand now screamed vulnerability.

  He wasn’t sure what to do with that.

  They rode down the elevator in companionable silence, then slipped into his car. He reached for something to say and realized he’d been too distracted to let her in on the news. “I talked to a potential investor today. Mitchell Shaw, Bryan’s dad.”

  Rachel straightened, her attention riveted on him. “And?”

  “He’s leaving town for a few weeks, but he’s interested in meeting you before he goes. I invited him for Saturday.”

  “Wait. This Saturday? As in, eight days to prepare?”

  “You’ve been preparing all week. Besides, I figured sooner was better than later.”

  “Yes, I suppose it is. He doesn’t have any dietary restrictions, does he?”

  “Not that I know of, and I’ve eaten with him hundreds of times.”

  Rachel nodded, but she didn’t seem to notice him anymore. He suddenly wished he’d called her tomorrow with the news, but he’d only found out this afternoon and she would kill him if he didn’t give her every hour’s notice possible. He reached for her hand again, aware it was a needy thing to do and yet not able to stop himself.

  When they parked in front of her house, he walked her to the door. “When can I see you again? Dinner this week? Tuesday, maybe?”

  “I don’t know, Alex. I need as much time to prepare as possible, and when I get really involved in something . . .”

  “I understand. I don’t like it, but I understand.”

  She moved into him and pressed an all-too-brief kiss to his lips. “It’s only this week. And then I’ll be free.”

  “Fine. But you’re coming with me to pick up Dina on Friday. Deal?”

  “Deal.” She turned to the door, her key in her hand. “I’ll give you progress reports in the meantime.”

  “I’m counting on it.” He waited on the step until she went inside and locked the door behind her, then returned to his car. He didn’t immediately twist the key in the ignition, instead sitting alone with his musings in the dark.

  Rachel was holding back. There was no denying their chemistry—he’d felt it since that dinner at Equity, and it had only grown since then. She’d been all-in every time they’d kissed, responding with the passion he suspected drove her determined nature. And yet she seemed hesitant to trust him. To trust whatever this was developing between them.

  Maybe she simply didn’t want to admit there hadn’t been many guys before him—it didn’t take a genius to read between the lines. Or maybe she thought things were moving too fast.

  On the elevator ride up to his apartment, another, more worrisome option occurred to him. Maybe her talk about her life as a chef had been meant as a warning. She wanted to have a restaurant again, missed the job fiercely, had devoted herself completely to it.

  That didn’t sound like a life that had room for him.

  Briefly, selfishly, he reconsidered his invitation to Mitchell, and just as quickly tossed out that impulse. He wasn’t going to go back on his promise. It sounded like Rachel had had plenty of that already. He wouldn’t be another person who failed her.

  Even if the prospect of letting her go felt like being sentenced to a life of bread and water moments after he had been given a taste of an exotic banquet.

  “Man up, Kanin.” He cleaned up the remaining dishes, switched the dishwasher on, wiped down the countertops. Then he moved to his bedroom and booted up his laptop. He surely wouldn’t be sleeping soon, so he might as well get some words on the page.

  For someone who was hopelessly blocked, he seemed to gather plenty of inspiration from Rachel. Words poured onto the screen, tapped out on his keyboard like the falling of raindrops, until he had several pages of another completed essay.

  He sat back in his chair and read the three pieces he had so far.

  “Not bad.” A cohesive theme was beginning to emerge, unexpected as it might be, and it was compelling. Burning with new enthusiasm, he opened the empty proposal and pasted in the three essays, then began filling in the marketing and positioning sections.

  Well after three o’clock, it was complete. Alex gave it one last once-over, attached it to an e-mail, and pressed Send.

  Now that his proposal was done and no longer hanging over his head, he could turn all his attention to his new and thoroughly unexpected muse . . . for as long as he still had her.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  ANA AND MELODY had demanded that Rachel call them once she was home from her date, but when Alex left her at her front door, she was too conflicted to do anything but analyze and decompress. Instead, she tapped in a message saying she had a great time and inviting the girls over for breakfast at her house, where she would no doubt be peppered with questions. At least that would give her time to formulate answers.

  Normally, she’d go straight to the kitchen and cook something to let her percolating thoughts straighten themselves into some semblance of order, but she’d meant it when she said she was stuffed. Alex was actually a good cook—the food had been hearty, filling, and well prepared, even by her standards. Ana would probably dismiss the dinner as his way of getting off the hook for coming up with an elaborate date, but Rachel had to believe that Alex had known exactly what would be meaningful to her.

  She turned on the electric kettle and then retreated to her bedroom to change from her filmy dress into a pair of lounge pants and a T-shirt. After she poured herself a cup of herbal tea—no point making it any more difficult to sleep than it already would be—she climbed into bed and turned on a late-night TV show she knew full well she wouldn’t watch.

  She’d never met anyone like Alex Kanin. Driven, yet grounded and playful. Principled, even moral, but with a wicked sense of humor. Rather than being scared off by a woman in charge, he seemed to appreciate her strength. Found it appealing, even.

  Impulsively, she flicked on her reading lamp and reached for the journal that sat on top of her Bible on her nightstand. She’d continued with her daily readings, but she hadn’t been able to write more than a few w
ords in the journal since leaving Paisley. Not because she was still mourning that loss—even though she was—but because somewhere inside her, she was afraid naming those happy moments in her day would cause them to flee as quickly as they’d come.

  Slowly, she opened the journal and wrote today’s date, her heart thudding dully in her throat. It took her several moments to get the courage to write the word.

  Alex.

  Rachel snapped the book shut and pressed the top edge to her lips, trying to push down the flutter of panic that welled up inside her. Silly, maybe. No, definitely. But putting him in the journal was like acknowledging he’d earned a permanent place in her life.

  The thought was simultaneously more thrilling and more terrifying than she’d expected.

  Her phone screen lit up on her bedside table, and she snatched it up, hoping it might be a message from Alex. Instead it was Melody’s reply: I’m there. I want details!

  Almost immediately, Ana responded: Me too! See you tomorrow.

  Rachel put the phone back down, cursing the renewed surge of adrenaline coursing through her system. She’d never get to sleep at this rate. Instead she picked up the composition book on her nightstand and looked over the menu she’d set for the following weekend.

  She’d been so sure about it before, but now it seemed simplistic. Appropriate for an impromptu gathering with friends, but not an accurate example of the kind of food she’d want to cook in her new restaurant. She needed to up her game. Show Mitchell Shaw that she could match any of the big-name chefs in New York or London.

  All of whom had worse reputations for being prickly than she did.

  Rachel pushed away the flash of irritation at the double standard, flipped to a clean page, and began making notes until she had line after line of different dishes. She tossed aside the notebook and strode into the living room to her bookshelf. She filled her arms with cookbooks thick and thin, cuisine and home cooking, then struggled back to her bed with them.

  Hours later, multiple books lying open around her, she thought she’d found her new menu. It was perfect. Elegant and balanced, light enough to account for the heat but still satisfying. She had sketched plating ideas on the following pages, using the blooming plants on Alex’s patio for inspiration. It would require some careful thought to tie each dish together, but she could do it. As she looked at the page, her chest filled with a determination she hadn’t felt since the day she walked out of Paisley. She would have her own place again, and this was the menu that would do it for her.

  * * *

  “Okay, spill. You’ve been tight-lipped since we walked in.”

  Rachel threw a look at Melody over her shoulder. “I’m busy. I’m cooking. You should know better than to ask me to answer questions when I’m cooking.” She pulled open the oven to check on the cheese-and-bacon scones currently baking in the oven and then closed it quickly. Two more minutes, maybe three. Saturday breakfast had turned out to be more of a brunch anyway. Melody liked to grab a couple of hours’ sleep when she got off at six, so the clock was already edging toward noon.

  Ana, on the other hand, had probably been up since sunrise, hitting the gym first thing before her day got started. If Rachel had her discipline when it came to exercise, the waistband of her jeans wouldn’t be digging into her stomach quite so much right now.

  “I think she’s avoiding the question,” Melody said to Ana.

  “I’d say she’s definitely avoiding the question.” Ana reached for her coffee and took a sip.

  “I’m not avoiding, I promise. I will answer any and all of your questions as soon as we sit down to eat.” Rachel wrapped a towel around the handle of the cast-iron pan that held their veggie frittata and transferred it to the table, then put the lightly dressed salad next to it. She pulled the tray of scones from the oven, now turned a lovely golden color. Those went onto a plate along with a small bowl of bacon gravy. “I think that’s it. Did I forget anything?”

  “Maybe a dolly to wheel us out of here when we’re done?” Ana stared wide-eyed at the spread. “Seriously, Rach, you made enough food for ten people.”

  “Then take it home and have it for breakfast tomorrow.” Rachel slid into her chair. “Besides, how long have you known me? I cook.”

  “Especially when you have something on your mind.” Ana waggled her eyebrows at Rachel. “Or is it a someone?”

  Heat rose to her cheeks. “Whatever. Does someone want to say grace?”

  Melody jumped in to say the blessing as eloquently as ever, and then the only sound was that of serving spoons against platters and forks and knives against plates.

  “These scones are amazing,” Melody said.

  “They should be. It’s your scone recipe. I just added the bacon, cheese, and chives to make them more savory.”

  “Really good,” Ana mumbled, covering her half-filled mouth with her hand. “Worth the extra four thousand sit-ups I’m going to have to do later.”

  Rachel laughed and turned back to her own food. When she’d been working, they managed to do this sort of thing once a month, if they were lucky. She’d probably seen her friends more the past few weeks than she had all year. “I’ve missed you guys.”

  “We saw you yesterday,” Melody said. “Stop stalling. Tell us about this date of yours.”

  Rachel smiled, trying to keep it a notch below a Cheshire cat grin, and sketched the outlines of the evening for them. “You know, he’s a pretty good cook. I was surprised. I was fully preparing myself to lie.”

  “Rachel lying about food?” Ana said. “Must be serious.”

  Melody looked impressed. “He made you his family recipes? That takes some guts on multiple levels. I like this guy already.”

  “Me too,” Rachel said.

  They stared at her.

  “What?”

  “You . . . no.” Ana cocked her head. “Maybe?”

  Rachel frowned. “What are we talking about?”

  “You and Alex. What exactly is it that you like about him?”

  The smile came back, unbidden. “He’s a good guy. Principled, more down-to-earth than I would have expected considering the press and the fancy condo. The unreasonably hot part aside, it’s easy to be around him.” She caught her bottom lip between her teeth at the jitter of pleasure that came along with the thought. “It feels good to be with him.”

  Melody gasped. “You are! You’re in love with him!”

  She couldn’t even deny it. “What do I do?”

  “What do you mean?” Ana asked. “Seems pretty clear to me.”

  All the pleasure she’d felt, all the nervous excitement, seemed to drain out of her, leaving only a cold knot of dread. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. I don’t want a relationship. Besides, it’s not like he feels the same way. This is temporary. He knows it. He wouldn’t have hustled me out of his place so quickly if he didn’t.”

  They continued to stare at her. Rachel sighed and recounted the intense moments on his roof deck, leaving out the part where thoughts of staying for more than dessert had flitted through her mind.

  “Does he have a brother exactly like him?” Ana asked. “Usually on a first date I have to explain why I’m not going to sleep with the guy, and suddenly I’m frigid.”

  “What Ana’s trying to say is that Alex obviously respects you. Or has some personal convictions of his own. Or both. That’s not the kind of thing a guy does when you’re just temporary. Trust me. He doesn’t want to do anything to ruin this.”

  Rachel looked between her friends, trying to ignore the way their words buoyed her heart. “Maybe he doesn’t, but I’m not willing to sacrifice everything I’ve accomplished for a man. My mother did that, and look where it got her.”

  “Alex is not Dale,” Melody said. “Has he ever once said anything to make you think he’d want to change you?”

  “No,” Rachel said. “But my stepfather never gave us any hint he wanted to change us either. He seemed perfect . . . right up until he wasn’t. And
by the time we got a look at his true nature, it was too late.”

  Ana and Melody exchanged a look, clearly not swayed. Melody took her hand. “At some point you’re going to have to take a leap of faith. Rachel, in all the years I’ve known you, I’ve never seen you light up like this. You’re passionate about your cooking, yes. But you attack that like a challenge to be conquered.”

  Ana smiled. “You’re happy. That’s not something you run away from.”

  Rachel looked between them, conflicted. “So what? I just . . . keep seeing him? Hope I don’t find any deal-breakers? Or better yet, hope that I find them before I invest too much time in the relationship?”

  “That’s pretty much what dating is,” Melody said with a smile. “Just don’t . . . you know . . . get carried away. You think you’ve got those borders drawn pretty well until things get serious. Trust me, the whole ‘saving it for marriage’ thing sounds a lot easier than it is, especially when you’re kind of inexperienced and the guy is hot.” She sighed. “If I could go back and have this conversation with past me, I’d save myself some idiotic mistakes.”

  Rachel flashed Melody a sympathetic smile. Deep down, she was a trusting soul who wanted to see the best in everyone; unfortunately, she’d run into some men who viewed that tender heart as something to exploit, who said all the right things to bypass her best intentions.

  “Don’t worry,” Ana said. “You’ll find out fast whether Alex’s convictions are real when he’s not getting any.” Ana threw up her hands at Rachel’s look. “What? I call them like I see them. Maybe I should just take a break from dating for a while. I’ve got plenty going for me without a man. If God really has the perfect guy, I’ll run into him at the grocery store or something, right?”

  “I hope so,” Melody said with a sigh. “I’m too tired to put any effort into looking for one.”

  “I really hate to bring this up,” Ana said, “but does Alex understand what your life is like when you’re working? Right now you have all this time on your hands, but eventually you’ll open another restaurant. Is he ready for that?”