A month passed and the barefoot angel still plagued Jack’s mind. He hadn’t seen her again, though he looked for her wherever he went. But it was like she’d never existed.

“I still can’t believe Rebecca Finlay dined in our restaurant,” April jabbered to a customer whose table was close to the kitchen.

Jack shook his head.

It had happened weeks ago, but she still went on and on about a woman named Rebecca Finlay.

He didn’t know anything about the woman, just that she was some famous writer who made a ridiculous amount of money selling made-up stories.

He was sick of hearing about it, and snapped when MJ broached the subject in bed one night.

“April’s the one who saw her, not me. For all I know, she’s making it up. What would someone that famous be doing at my mother’s restaurant?”

MJ raised an eyebrow. “Funny how nobody that famous ever goes to the Boathouse.”

“The Boathouse receives a different caliber of celebrities,” Jack scoffed. “Sophisticated ones. Just because the celebrities dining at the Boathouse don’t make it onto the radars of people like you and April, doesn’t mean it hasn’t seen its fair share of star action.

MJ chuckled. “Sheesh, down boy. I was just kidding. Anyway, I wonder what Rebecca Finlay is like.”

“Oh, ask April. The way she’s going on about the woman, you’d swear they exchanged their deepest, darkest secrets with each other.”

MJ laughed. “Your sister isn’t that bad. I actually like her, even though she can’t stand me.”

“That’s because she thinks you’re a gold digger.”

MJ slapped his arm.

“Ow! She said it, not me.” He kissed her.

They were in the room he kept at the Boathouse, which he frequently used whenever he had to work late and was too tired to go home.

The room was below deck and underwater, and he’d replaced the portholes with windows, so he could admire the fish in the Hudson River.

With the blue lights he’d added above the window, it made the room feel more Caribbean than New York.

Their conversation died down, and it wasn’t long after that MJ fell asleep in his arms.

He pulled his arm out from under her and went to take a shower.

Even though MJ was naked in his bed in the next room, the mystery woman from the play area occupied his thoughts.

He couldn’t stop thinking about her. He wished he knew who she was, or where she came from. Any detail would do.

The only person he had told about her was a thousand miles away, though that did nothing to deter Adrian from teasing Jack about being obsessed with a woman he had never spoken to.

When Jack mentioned that she’d vanished into thin air while he was in the kitchen prepping the meat, Adrian’s playful mood shifted. Jack knew it was because his own mood had been high when he described her.

Now, every damn time they skyped, Adrian asked him if she’d reappeared at the restaurant, or if he’d seen her again somewhere. And Jack’s response was the same time and again. It frustrated them both.

Would he ever get to see her again? Maybe she’d just been a figment of his imagination.

Sitting as his desk, Jack raked a hand through his hair and groaned. But what he really wanted to do was bang his head against the wall.

He hated when Paul called him. Paul Weaver was one of the Boathouse’s more elite customers—a big hotshot at FireQuill Studios.

Jack didn’t watch a lot television, and he rarely went to the movies, but he’d have to have been born under a rock to not know that FireQuill Studios was one of the biggest production companies around.

Which only inflated Paul’s ego even more. He was an asshole, and he gave men a bad name.

But that asshole had just paid him five grand for a deluxe experience.

Paul hadn’t made that request in ages, so whoever this woman was, Paul must have had his eye on her for a while.

It had been Paul’s requests over the years that had made Jack consider pursuing the career his mother wanted. She’d longed for him to become a celebrity chef, and though there had been offers—Jack’s culinary skills were superb, right up there with the likes of Anthony Bourdain and Gordon Ramsay—that life wasn’t for Jack. It was too complicated, too stressful. He was hardly the type to dress up and serve A-list celebrities. If they wanted his food, they could come to his restaurant.

Apart from Paul’s requests, he was content with the Boathouse. Hence, he’d passed on every offer, and heaven help him if his mother ever found out he’d declined; she’d beat his ass three ways to Sunday.

He groaned and leaned forward to rest his head on his desk. He felt sorry for Paul’s date, because he knew exactly how the night would end, and what an ass Paul would be the next day.

Paul’s routine was to wine and dine them, then screw them. And in the morning, he’d say he’d had fun, but he wasn’t a one-woman guy.

And that was what pissed Jack off. He’d respect the guy somewhat, if he told his dates straight-up that he was only after a one-night stand.

Truth be told, he’d have told Paul to shove his money up his ass if he didn’t need it to get Adrian, Anna, and Bea here.

At least he had that to look forward to. Adrian had managed to persuade Anna to make the trip to New York, although she flat out refused to get on a plane.

Luckily, they’d found a forty-night cruise that left from Sydney and docked in New York, so in three months, he would finally be seeing his brother again. And they’d have an entire month to spend together.

Both Adrian and Anna had telecommuting jobs, so the Wi-Fi on the ship would allow them to keep working an uninterrupted schedule.

Jack had so many plans for that month-long visit already. It would be hard to squeeze everything into thirty days.

“You okay?” Masterson asked.

He lifted his head from the desk and eyed the new chef he was training to take Tony’s place. Just thinking about Tony soured Jack’s mood even more—the man was suffering. He’d gone over to Tony’s place a few times, and from what he saw, it was evident that this time around, Tony was not going to beat cancer.

What made it worse was that Tony had a family. Each time he paid him a visit, each time he saw the man’s loved ones, it just made him think of Kate.

She hadn’t been on his mind as much as usual since he’d seen the barefoot angel, and though he felt a twinge of guilt, more than anything, he wanted that woman to be real.

“Yeah. Just got a call from this hotshot executive who wants tonight to be extra special for him and his date.” He stood up and headed back into the kitchen to prepare pastries with phyllo dough.

“And that’s not a good thing?” Masterson frowned.

Jack understood his trainee’s confusion. The news should have made Jack happy.

“Not this one.”

“Hmm, what’s his deal?”

“You see that spot?” He pointed to the cozy, elevated alcove close to the kitchen. “Tonight, we’ll deck it out with finery, and that’s where the jerk will wine, dine, and charm a woman who won’t know what hit her, and then tomorrow morning, he’ll dump her like yesterday’s garbage.”

He punched the phyllo dough.

“I don’t think you are supposed to do that with phyllo.”

“I know,” he bit out, angry at himself. He threw the ruined dough into the trash.

“If you really don’t like this guy, why do you let him in?”

“Because the asshole pays a ridiculous amount of money, and I need to buy cruise tickets for my brother and his family. I haven’t seen my brother since the birth of my niece.”

“The Boathouse not doing so well?” Masterson asked, a hint of worry in his tone. Probably worried that he’d wasted his time in taking the job.

“No, it’s raking in cash as usual, but I just purchased another one, and it’s sucked me dry.”

“You opening another? Expanding the name?”

“In the future, perhaps. I’m not sure yet. Maybe I’ll just use it for what yachts are meant to be used for.”

“I’m sorry this guy pisses you off so much.”

“I’ll just do what I do best, then get him and his date out of here as fast as I possibly can.”

“I like that plan.”

Jack grinned and slapped his back. He had a feeling that they were going to get on like a house on fire, plus it didn’t hurt that the guy had skills in the kitchen as well.

Stepping over to the Bluetooth speaker, he switched it on, then swiftly connected his phone. With a couple taps on his screen, alternative rock filled the kitchen.

He needed to get his head on track. And with the special treatment he had to provide for Paul, he’d need classical music on in the kitchen. Which meant he’d be on edge the whole time while trying to be as professional as possible.

With a sigh, he got to work.

Seven o’clock drew nearer.

Jack was already tense, and Paul hadn’t even arrived yet.

If he hadn’t bought the second yacht, he wouldn’t have had to take the asshole’s money.

He was looking at one hell of a long night. First, he had to deal with the asshole himself, and then he’d spend all night tossing and turning, worrying about the woman he’d helped Paul lure into his bed.

Even worse was the fact that there was nothing he could do about it. Paul was a serial womanizer, but it wasn’t like what he did was illegal or nonconsensual. Jack had witnessed firsthand how Paul charmed a woman’s panties off with little effort.

But he always felt guilty that he played a role in whatever heartache Paul’s newest victim would have to endure.

Lilly walked through the door. She’d been his hostess since he’d first opened the Boathouse.

“He’s here.” She glared at Jack, her lip curling in distaste as she tilted her head to the side. She despised Paul as much as Jack did. She turned on her heel and Jack followed her out to where Paul was waiting, decked out in an expensive suit.

“Jack,” Paul greeted him.

“Paul.”

“I trust you’re ready for us?”

“We are.” He swallowed hard and forced a smile. “It’s all set up.” He looked behind Paul for his date, but she was nowhere to be seen. “She’s not here yet?” A smidgen of hope arose; maybe the woman had wised up and decided on a no-show.

“Nope. She thinks it’s a business meeting, so she’ll be here soon.”

“Wonderful,” Jack replied.

While Lilly led their loathsome customer to the intimate table, Jack watched them with hawk eyes.

Maybe, just maybe, Paul would see his ass tonight.

He could only hope.

They returned to their various tasks in the kitchen in silence. Jack flicked his gaze between Paul and the door as he cooked.

A few minutes later, the door opened again. Lilly stood framed in the doorway, eyes wide, and a broad smile on her face. She looked nervous and excited at the same time.

Jack frowned. That was how Lilly looked whenever a celebrity popped in.

Was Paul manipulating some actress into sleeping with him? After all, Paul had said that his date thought it was a business meeting.

But when his eyes locked on Paul’s date, all sorts of things happened with his heart, one of them being that it dropped right down to his feet.

It was his playground angel.

To say that he felt nauseous was an understatement.

He struggled to tear his eyes away from her as Lilly showed her to her seat, the smile on the woman’s face one hundred percent genuine.

What type of business could his mystery woman have with Paul?

She was as exquisite as the day he had seen her at his mother’s restaurant. Her jumpsuit was cut short, accentuating her legs—legs that, he now saw, went on for miles. He hadn’t paid much attention to her body when he’d seen her that day—he’d been more focused on the happiness on her face as she’d played with the little boy.

She was beautiful, and so fucking hot.

She was also quite short, but somehow managed to handle herself with style on those sky-high heels. Her golden hair was pulled up into a sophisticated bun, with lose strands framing her face.

Hot damn, she was stunning.

He stared at her as Lilly pulled her chair out—something Paul should have done.

He clenched his jaw.

Why her?

“You okay?” Masterson asked for the second time that day.

“I think I’m going to be sick.”

“Dude, chuck him out.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I sort of know the woman he brought in here.”

“You do? Well, warn her, then.”

“Yeah, that’s a bit complicated.”

“She an ex?”

“I wish. No, she doesn’t know me.”

“But you said—”

“That’s the complicated part.” Jack went back to his station and kept a sharp eye on Paul.

She was already eating out of the palm of his hand by the time the first course was ready, and she was laughing at his stupid jokes—the same jokes Jack had heard him tell every girl he brought there.

They really seemed to have hit it off; there wasn’t a single lull in the conversation. The asshole was reeling her in.

Please, don’t disappoint me.

It would have been amazing if she could’ve somehow heard his thoughts, or just picked up on his emotions, as Adrian did. But unfortunately, she had no idea that Paul was a complete and utter asshole.

He headed up to the deck to get some fresh air. Watching Paul flirting with her in his kitchen was suffocating. He had to find some way to warn her.

Leaning against the deck’s railing, Jack looked out at the far bank of the river.

The Boathouse was still a yacht, which only made the experience that much more entertaining for sleazeballs like Paul. It was impressive, though—exactly what he’d aimed for.

The door opened and Lilly walked out just as he unbuttoned his top button.

“We need to do something.”

He saw the worry written on her face.

“I know, but…”

“No buts, Jack. Do you know who that is? If word gets out that your little restaurant had anything to do with whatever that jerk has planned for her, you’re going to suffer the consequences. You may even be closed down.”

“Wait, what?”

“That’s Rebecca Finlay. You know, the author? She’s crazy famous. Most of her novels have been turned into movies. We need to treat this with discretion, same as with any other celebrity. You don’t understand, but this woman’s influence is far-reaching.”

“Rebecca Finlay?” he asked.

The Rebecca Finlay his sister had been going on about was the woman who had occupied his mind this whole damn time? He couldn’t believe his barefoot angel was a celebrity of her caliber.

“Hey, you okay? You look a little pale all of a sudden.”

“I’m going to be sick.”

“There’s no time for you to be sick. Warn her.”

“I’ll find a way to warn her. Don’t worry.”

“Please. She’s sweet, and down to earth. Nothing like other celebrities.”

“What do you mean?”

“She hates the limelight, and she writes stories you never want to end. I’m a huge fan, Jack. Please warn her.”

Understanding dawned on him. “That’s probably why she’s here. She thinks she’s signing off on a book-slash-movie deal.”

“Believe me, she gets those a lot. She would fry his ass if she knew his intentions, I’m sure of it. But you need to tell her. Find a way. You don’t want to be the owner of the place responsible for her being used by that jackass.”

Turning, she walked back inside.

He shook his head in disbelief, staring after her.