CHAPTER 19

“Going somewhere?” Sebastian asked casually. Even though he spoke the words calmly, his huge body tensed, belying his cool façade.

Lexie cleared her throat before speaking. “No, not yet.” She saw him visibly relax.

“Good.”

“Good?” Was he going to press her to talk?

“Yes, good. I’m making you breakfast this morning.”

“All right,” she said, happy he wasn’t going to press her. “I’m game. What do you have in mind?”

“It depends on what ingredients you have in your kitchen.”

“And in the garden.”

Seb looked pleased. “You keep a garden?”

“Yes, out back. I grow herbs, root vegetables, and New England staples like pumpkin, zucchini, and other squash.”

“Well, I’ll have to throw on some clothes and take a look.”

“Garden shears and spades are hanging by the back door if you want to take anything. I have some eggs, too, and some milk.”

“All right,” Seb said. “I can do something with that.”

Fifteen minutes later, Seb was showered, dressed, and out the door. While she prepared for her own shower, Lexie heard him shuffling along the garden path, whistling a classic rock tune she’d long forgotten. She wasn’t surprised that he liked that kind of music. It seemed to fit him. She tiptoed to the back door and snuck a peek at Sebastian. He was grinning as he snipped herbs and dug up some of her vegetables. He glanced around, as if to see if anyone was watching, then crouched to his knees, bent his face to the ground, and inhaled deeply. He looked like he was in heaven. Quickly, so he wouldn’t catch her watching, she crept away, smiling to herself at his exuberance.

As she took a leisurely shower, Lexie wondered if Seb would be able to find everything he needed in her kitchen. Then she realized that he was a professional chef who could probably find his way around anyone’s kitchen. Funny: she’d spent so much time thinking of him as a man that she’d almost forgotten.

She knew he was extremely well respected in the industry, and that everyone expected him to do great things with his career. But she’d never been to his restaurant or even eaten any of his food besides his competition crab cakes. After his new show was taped and aired, he’d be so popular that she probably wouldn’t even be able to get a reservation at Helena. The thought made her laugh.

She finished up her shower, then slipped on a pair of worn blue jeans and a black long-sleeved T-shirt and padded to the kitchen.

Seb was there, and as she stepped over the threshold and into the room, he gave her a look so intense it made her simmer.

“Beautiful garden,” he said.

Lexie smiled. “Thanks. I had one in California and I needed to have one here, too.”

“Do you use any of the produce at your restaurant?”

“Mostly the herbs. I’d need a huge garden to keep up with my vegetable demand, and I don’t have the time to tend to a garden of that size while running the business. So I compromise.”

“I wish I had a garden,” Seb said, almost wistfully. “I have to buy my produce at Union Square,” he said, referring to the farmers’ market in Manhattan. “Or get it delivered. It’d be such a treat to just walk outside and pick what I need.”

“I think a lot of people feel that way, but I know very few chefs on the East Coast who are able to pull it off. It’s much more prevalent on the West Coast. Look at Thomas Keller, for one.”

“He’s done amazing things in Napa. I was happy when he opened his restaurant in New York. Have you been there?”

“To Per Se?” Lexie laughed. “No. Way too rich for my blood. But I’ll make it there someday.”

“Maybe you will,” he said with a secret smile.

Lexie didn’t know what the smile meant, so she changed the subject. “What are you making for me?”

The corners of Seb’s eyes crinkled up. “I saw you had some mushrooms in your fridge, so I’m using those to make Eggs Waldorf, a New York regional twist on Eggs Benedict, with a potato leek hash.”

“Sounds incredible. Almost as good as the egg on toast Buster makes me every morning at the LMK,” Lexie said teasingly. To her pleasure, Sebastian rose to the bait.

“Spice, this is going to be a damned sight better than an egg on toast. Eggs Waldorf is a Sebastian Grayson specialty. People pay top dollar for this at Helena and you’re getting it for free.”

Lexie tried not to smile. “I’m getting other things for free, too.”

That elicited an even stronger response. Seb dropped what he was doing, wrapped his long arms around her, and kissed her passionately. “And that,” he said in a low voice, “is also a Sebastian Grayson specialty.”

Lexie had no tart response to that.

Before long the kitchen was filled with delicious aromas, and then the food was ready to be plated. They sat down together at Lexie’s sun-dappled kitchen table, an old farmhouse slab of wood she’d picked up at an antique sale a couple of years ago.

Lexie looked at Sebastian and realized he was waiting for her to take a bite. She did. The poached egg white was light and airy, and the yolk was wonderfully runny. The mushroom sauce—instead of the typical hollandaise—made an excellent complement to the egg and the toast underneath, which was slowly soaking up the runny yolk and the sauce.

The hash had just the right combination of earthiness, crispiness, and buttery chewiness. It was, for lack of a better word, perfect.

Lexie couldn’t even speak, so she made a little moaning sound in her throat and continued to eat. Seb must have taken her moan in the spirit in which it was intended, because he grinned broadly before turning to his own plate of food.

Lexie had fully finished before she turned to Sebastian.

“I hated it,” she said, deadpan.

“Little liar. You ate every bite.” His tone was hard, but he didn’t seem angry.

“I just don’t want to inflate your ego any more than it already is.”

“You already have, Spice. You did that when you mopped up the rest of the mushroom sauce with an extra piece of toast.” He leaned back in his chair, apparently satisfied. “I like cooking for you. You appreciate everything about a dish, from the way it’s prepared to how it’s presented.”

“Let’s not forget the way it tastes.”

“The most important part, of course. So,” he said, a picture of male grace as he crossed his arms behind his neck and stretched his legs out under the table, “why’d you choose to become a chef?” His gaze met hers evenly, and she didn’t look away.

“I love the idea of bringing things from land to table. I guess I was influenced by the sustainable foods movement, but really, I was always interested in cooking. My parents were really supportive of me. I remember one absolutely awful dish I prepared when I was eight—something involving acorn squash and mayonnaise. They told me it wasn’t one of my best efforts, but they ate it anyway.” She laughed. “I was lucky that they encouraged me to pursue my passion. What about you? Why’d you decide to go into this line of work?”

“Necessity,” he said flatly.

She cocked her head. “Really? I can’t believe that. You have such fire.” Both in the kitchen and out.

He shrugged and studied the ceiling. “Life wasn’t so easy for my mom once my dad died. With four boys to support and feed on her own, she was stretched pretty thin. I started cooking to help out around the house. Turned out I had a flair for it.”

“But that doesn’t explain why you kept doing it,” Lexie probed. “You dropped out of college to do this. Something was driving you.”

His gaze dropped back to hers, hot and fierce. “I’ll tell you what was driving me: payback. I wanted to make my mark on the world. To have everyone who said I’d never amount to anything sit up and take notice that Seb Grayson, hell-raiser, could raise some hell of his own—and make good doing it.” He swallowed. “I’ve never told anyone that before.”

“I’m glad you told me,” she said quietly.

He leaned forward in his seat. “I am, too. I used to be able to talk to my dad. He’d come home after a long day of fishing, crack open a beer, settle in on the couch, and tell us stories about the pirates who roamed up and down the Eastern seaboard. We all loved the legend of the Lorelei the best—even Val, though he was a couple of years older than us and he pretended like he was too cool to care. We hung on Dad’s every word. Then after our homework was done, he’d take us to the beach and we’d roughhouse and watch the harbor lights. He told me I could be anything I wanted when I grew up and I believed him. Then he died.” Seb’s voice was throaty now, and he swallowed. “I think Cole took his death the hardest, but I sure was a close second. I caused my mom all sorts of grief, and learning how to cook to make her life easier was just one way I tried to make amends. But I didn’t count on how it would make me feel. In the kitchen, I had control. I had power. I liked it.”

There was a moment of silence as his last words resonated in the kitchen. Then he blinked, and Lexie knew the moment was over. “So tell me what’s on our agenda for today,” he said. “I talked to my assistant. I told her I’m going to stay in Star Harbor for a while longer. Your restaurant is closed and for once, I have no meetings with my Realtor. Let me take you back to bed.” His voice was husky, and hopeful.

Lexie laughed, despite his utterly proprietary manner. “Unfortunately, no. Today is the one free day I have before LMK Catering officially opens to the public. Emma and Jimmy’s wedding was really just our test run. I need to prep and taste eight other dishes today. I’ve asked Buster to come in to assist, and Babs to come over for tasting.” Then she had an idea. “Want to help me out? Your palate would be a great addition.”

“Hm, let me think about that,” Seb mused, back to his usual arrogant self. “A beautiful woman to ogle, free food to eat, and Babs Kincaide to torment. It’s a no-brainer. Count me in.”

“I’m not sure I feel like being ogled, but it’s too late to disinvite you now. I promised Buster I’d be at the restaurant by ten. We’ve got ten minutes to clean up and get in the car.”

“We’ll make it,” Seb said confidently, as he tipped himself forward, stood up, and began clearing plates.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, they were at the back door of the LMK. Lexie let them in with her key, and they were greeted by a blast of warmth—the ovens were already preheating in anticipation of their cooking session. Buster was there, steadily washing the vegetables Lexie had asked him to prepare for the day’s work. He looked up briefly, gave a quick smile to Lexie and a nod to Sebastian, then bent his head down and kept working.

“What can I do to help?” Sebastian asked.

“Let me think,” Lexie said. “How are your butchering skills?”

“Top-notch,” he said without any hesitation.

“Okay. I have a rack of lamb that needs to be broken down.”

“Rack roast or chops?”

“Chops.”

“Single or double?”

“Single.”

“Frenched?”

“Yes, please.”

“I’m on it. Where’s the rack?”

“In the large fridge against the far wall.” Lexie pointed in the right direction. “Third shelf from the top.”

Seb went to wash his hands before grabbing the meat. Their whole conversation had taken place in less than ten seconds. It was such a pleasure to work with someone besides Buster who knew exactly how to follow her directions. Not that her line cooks weren’t good; it was just that Sebastian was on a totally different plane.

Once she’d established that Sebastian knew where to find the knives he’d need, Lexie turned to her own work. Babs would be at the restaurant at two to start the tasting, so they had only four hours to prepare the eight main dishes, sides, and appetizers Lexie had created. She mapped out a game plan and got to it.

Lexie barked out orders while simultaneously working her own fingers to the bone. They’d have to work utterly nonstop for the entire time to make sure everything would be done in time for Babs.

Lexie snuck a look at Sebastian, who was slicing a roasted beet with military precision. She felt a flash of guilt for roping him into the cooking. She’d only intended for him to taste, but he’d insisted on helping—and then some. He was pulling more than his fair share of weight today.

She took another quick peek. He was intensely focused on the task in front of him, but he looked happy. Exhilarated, even.

“You okay?” she called to him from across the room.

“You bet, Spice.”

“Good. Just checking.” Lexie bent her head back down over her own preparations—pan-roasted local diver scallops with cream sauce and chives. The plan was to use each small scallop as an appetizer.

Lexie hadn’t made many portions of food for the tasting. Initially, it was going to be just her, Babs, and Buster. Sebastian added only one more. The workload was intense simply due to the number of dishes that needed to be prepared.

Still, it would be worth the hassle to finalize the list of dishes her catering company would offer before the festival.

Lexie arranged the last curls of chopped chive atop one of the scallops. Done.

She went to wash her hands, sneaking a peek at the clock. One on the nose. She walked by Buster’s workstation. He had two dishes sitting to his left, already plated, and was working on a third.

“You good, Buster?”

He nodded curtly, not looking up from his work.

“Great.” She moved on to Sebastian’s station. He’d acted, in essence, as her sous chef, preparing components for her to use in her dishes. Just now, he was slicing some raw carrots into thin, elegant ribbons for a garnish. She stood next to him and watched for a few moments.

“Not bad,” she said admiringly. “It’s interesting to see it done without a mandoline.”

Seb snorted as he continued to work. “I could do this in my sleep.”

“I’m sure you could. I appreciate you helping out here today. You really didn’t need to, you know.”

He stopped slicing and looked up from his workstation, directly into her eyes. “I know,” he said slowly. “But I wanted to.” He held her gaze for a long moment, then bent his head back down. His hands resumed their expert rhythm, as if he’d never stopped using the knife.

“I appreciate it,” she repeated softly, before moving back to her own station to complete her dishes. Maybe she and Seb could work. They were compatible in both the bedroom and the kitchen, and he treated her like an equal. Respected her. She could get used to this.

By two, everything was done. The hot food was under the warmer and the cold food was on the counter. Lexie heard a knock on the restaurant’s front door just as she stuffed the last pan into the utility dishwasher. She signaled to Buster that he should go let Babs in, and asked Sebastian to help her carry the first few prepared dishes into the front room.

As soon as they emerged from the kitchen, each holding two dishes, Babs pointed a finger at Sebastian.

“What’s he doing here?” she asked in a loud voice.

“Seb?” Lexie glanced at him and tried to ignore the infuriating smirk blooming on his face. “I invited him to taste, but he insisted on helping with the preparations.”

“Hmph,” Babs muttered. “Well, I s’pose three mouths will be better than two.”

“You can say that again,” quipped Sebastian. Lexie shot him a look.

“Put the plates here,” she said, depositing the ones she was carrying on a long table. When he was done, she grabbed him by the elbow and steered him to the back room. “We’ll be back with the rest of the plates,” she called over her shoulder, just before they disappeared into the kitchen.

As soon as they were out of sight, she pushed Seb against a wall, pointed a finger in his face—well, more accurately his chest—and hissed, “Behave!”

Seb hardly looked contrite. “Ooh, you’re sexy when you’re angry,” he said, just before he took her by the waist, pulled her to him, and kissed her.

Lexie struggled against him. This was neither the time nor the place. Especially since she knew exactly where it was going to lead. “No!” she hissed again. “Not now.”

“Later?” he asked hopefully, the hint of a smile curling his lip.

“You are incorrigible,” she said, pushing away from him. But she wasn’t angry. Not really.

Together, they carried out the rest of the dishes and some forks. Lexie seated Buster in the middle. This proved to be a wise move, because Sebastian immediately threw Babs a saucy smile. Babs simply sniffed in response.

Lexie sat down across from them and flipped out her notepad and pen to take notes. She looked around at Babs, Buster, and Sebastian, the three experienced and trusted cooks who would give her an honest critique. It was game time. She took a deep breath. “Everyone ready? Good. Let’s begin.”

Over the next half-hour, Lexie called out each dish before it was tasted, detailing each substantial ingredient and the method of preparation. No one was cruel or rude. Just professional, succinct, and extremely helpful.

Lexie had just finished writing down “more salt” in the comments section for her rosemary chicken skewers. “Thanks,” she said. “Any other suggestions?”

“No,” Sebastian responded. “The spicing is otherwise excellent.”

“I agree,” Babs said, looking at Seb with what Lexie thought was a tinge of respect. Buster nodded in agreement.

“All right.” She went back to the kitchen to pull the last dish out of the fridge. “Our final course is a miniature panna cotta with seasonal berry compote. I decided to add it to the catering menu to make up for the lack of creamy desserts. I figured it’d be less fuss than a crème brûlée, since we won’t have to do any last-minute broiling. We can just prepare it in advance and serve it. What do you think?” She waited patiently while everyone took a bite.

“Perfection,” Seb said.

“Really? You have no constructive criticism for me?”

“No.” He shook his head. “It’s excellent. The vanilla note is just right, and the balance between the creamy cake and the compote is superb. I have no comments.” He looked at her and smiled before taking another bite.

She turned to Babs expectantly.

“Girl, it ain’t chocolate, and it ain’t your coconut cake, but it’s good. A keeper.”

“Buster?”

The older man merely smiled and gave her the thumbs-up sign.

“Well, I can see we’ve ended on a positive note. Thank you for helping me out. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate all of the work you put into this for me.”

Babs snorted. “I didn’t do anything except eat. And you didn’t even charge me.” She smiled. “When’s your next catering gig?”

“I’ve got a party for Pru Miller coming up mid-October, but I’m planning to debut my catering line at the Star Harbor Harvest Festival next weekend. I figure I’ll get the word out, have samples for tasting, and pretty much just let people know I’m open for business.”

“Sounds like a great idea. I’ll be there,” Babs said. “Well, girl, I always knew you’d do good. Lots of people come to town from other parts, but they don’t understand what Star Harbor is really about. I’d say you get it all right. It’s written all over you. And your food. You’re gonna be great.”

“Thanks Babs. That really means a lot to me.”

“And you,” Babs said, pointing a finger at Seb. “You’d better watch your step, boy. We’ve all got our eyes on you.”

“A pleasure, as always, Ms. Kincaide.” Sebastian inclined his head in a courteous nod.

“Hmph,” Babs snorted again as she rose from her chair.

Buster started to stand, too, but with a subtle gesture, Lexie indicated that she’d like to walk Babs to the door by herself. And she did just that, escorting the older woman and thanking her again, profusely.

“You keep in mind what I told you before about Sebastian Grayson,” Babs said, not even bothering to keep her voice down.

“I’ll do that. Thank you again, Babs. You’ve really helped get things off the ground for me. Please let me know if there’s ever anything I can do for you.”

Babs nodded, and threw her coat over her shoulders. “Be well, girl. And stay out of trouble!” With that pronouncement, she left.

Lexie locked the door behind her and turned around. Buster and Sebastian were already gone, and so were most of the dirty dishes.

Lexie let out her breath in a soft whoosh. It was only three in the afternoon, but she felt like she’d run a marathon. All she wanted to do was sink down into the nearest chair, but she knew she should help clear and clean. The day had gone well. Better than she’d expected, thanks to Seb’s assistance. She and Buster would have scrambled to complete the dishes in time for Babs’s arrival, but because of Seb, they’d had a nice cushion.

She stepped back into the kitchen, and was promptly ushered out again by Sebastian.

“No, Spice, sit down. Buster and I have it.”

“What? You’ve been working just as hard as I have.”

“Actually, no. We’ve just been following orders. You’ve been doing all the heavy lifting. Besides,” Seb said, “I haven’t really worked in weeks. This was just what I needed. So sit down. Please.”

“Buster—”

“… is fine. I am fine. The kitchen is fine. Just rest.”

Reluctantly, Lexie sat down and watched as Seb disappeared back into the kitchen. As exhausted as she was, she was hardly going to sit there idly. She took out her pen and pad and began to jot down some further modifications to her recipes. She also made notes to discuss with her PR contact about her new menus and her website. It required a lot of concentration, but at least she wasn’t on her feet.

She was just about finished when Sebastian and Buster came back into the dining room.

Buster looked a bit weary, but Seb seemed to be brimming with energy. They sat down at her table, and Buster pulled out a small piece of paper from his back pocket, placing it solemnly on the table.

Lexie stared. “Is that what I think it is?”

Buster nodded. “Yep. Found it on the back door this morning when I came to open up. This one’s pretty bad. I didn’t want to give it to you earlier because I was afraid it’d mess up the tasting.” He handed it to her.

A hard, tight knot formed in Lexie’s stomach as she read the note. It was violent and dirty. She couldn’t imagine Paige writing something so insidiously awful, nor could she picture the woman staking out her place. “This wasn’t here when Seb and I left last night.”

Seb scanned the note, a grim look on his face. “We’re going to get Cole out here the moment he gets back into town. I don’t know if he told you, but he’s in Boston for the week. In the meantime, I think it’s best if I stay with you at your place.” Seb turned to Buster and looked him in the eyes.

“What? Why is this being decided between you two? Don’t I get a say?” she asked indignantly.

“No,” both men replied in unison.

The eye contact between the two men remained unbroken for a long moment, and then Buster nodded his head.

“Just like that, it’s decided?” Lexie asked incredulously. No one answered her. “Well,” she huffed, “I object. This is ridiculous. You can’t unilaterally decide that I’m not safe by myself. He’s not coming home with me.” She crossed her arms under her breasts and sat back in her chair defiantly.

“Lexie,” Buster said gently, “please do as we ask. It would kill me if something happened to you. You’re like.…” He cleared his throat. “You’re like my own daughter.”

Lexie’s eyes grew misty. How could she stay angry at him? “Oh, Buster,” she said, reaching across the table to take his hand. “I’ll do it.” She turned to Seb, a harder look in her eye. “But you had better watch yourself.”

“I’m just here to help, Spice. Now,” he said with a roguish smile, “let’s go home.”