CHAPTER 5

Lexie woke up on Saturday to the gentle rustle of the reeds by Harper’s Pond. A heron called out, its cry echoing through the woods. In a few months, the birds would be gone and the reeds blanketed with snow, leaving the pond quiet and still for the winter. She loved these crisp fall mornings.

Dim pre-dawn light shone into her room. Her home was a one-story cottage with two bedrooms, a small study, and a well-laid-out kitchen that opened up into a tiny sitting room. The whole place couldn’t have been much more than a thousand square feet, but to her, it was as spacious as a Marin County mansion

She’d spent more than a few years living in a large college house in Berkeley with ten other people while she was in school and working part-time as a volunteer in the kitchen at Chez Panisse, Alice Waters’s famous restaurant. Despite the size of the house, space had been at a premium and privacy had been nonexistent. Her housemates—mostly artist types—had brought people home at all hours of the day and night. Sometimes their “guests” had stayed for weeks, or even months. It all got old fast—stepping over people in the morning to get from her futon to the bathroom, dealing with messy cleanups after meals for twenty, the sheer volume of noise, and the piles of garbage outside the back door.

She didn’t miss it at all. After leaving, she’d vowed never to have a roommate again for as long as she lived.

“Aahh,” she sighed, stretching her arms out in her comfortable, oversized bed. Even though she was a small woman, she loved her large bed. And she’d slept very, very well, despite—or maybe because of—her exhausting day yesterday. She glanced over at the clock. Five in the morning on the button. She’d get up, get ready, and—she squinted outside, gauging the weather—walk to work.

As she prepared for the day, Lexie felt her thoughts drift back to a certain pair of otherworldly green eyes, a strange mix of light green, amber, and gray, and the steady gaze that went along with them.

“Keep your eyes on the prize,” she mumbled to herself around her toothbrush. “Don’t let him knock you off your game.”

Lexie dressed in a plum-colored blouse and a swingy cranberry skirt, and then tugged on a pair of sneakers, tossing her kitchen clogs into her tote bag for later. She threw on a suede jacket and slipped out the front door, locking it securely behind her.

Stepping briskly into the damp morning air, she began the two-mile trek to Star Harbor’s downtown area. Harper’s Pond Road, the street she lived on, was the longest stretch she had to walk. It hadn’t been repaved in years, and as a result, it was riddled with holes. Small bits of gravel lay on each side of the road and down the middle, acting as the center line.

Lexie walked along in the quiet, the only other sounds the crunch of her shoes on the pavement and the herons calling out to each other by the pond. She took a deep breath of the early September air, inhaling the aromas of the sea and freshly cut grass. Autumn was her favorite time of year in Star Harbor.

The picturesque little Cape Cod town had once been a sleepy fishing village. It was now enjoying a kind of resurgence, tempting artists, craftsmen, and even young families who wanted a change of pace. Its quaint loveliness and charm were big draws, and Lexie had been noticing more and more new faces in her restaurant.

A quick glance at her watch told her she was making good time. At this rate, she’d be at the Kitchen by five forty-five to form the pastries from the dough she’d made the night before. Lexie always baked more for the weekends, anticipating a larger crowd. Mentally, she ran through her checklist of everything she needed to get done before the place opened.

Lexie turned down a side street—an alleyway, really—so that she could enter the kitchen through the service door. She always kept the front door of the restaurant locked until it was time to welcome her customers. When her field of vision widened, she stopped short.

There in the dimly lit alleyway, with his long frame leaning against a dark motorcycle, was none other than Sebastian Grayson, the very man she’d been hoping to avoid. He was wearing blue jeans today, but he still sported a tight black T-shirt under his leather jacket. His head was bent over a book and he was reading it intently, not noticing that she was just ten feet away.

Lexie cleared her throat. At the sound, Seb looked up and shut his book quickly, jamming it into an inner pocket of his jacket.

“Hi,” he said, giving her a big grin.

“Hi,” Lexie responded warily.

Seb didn’t speak. He just pushed himself off the motorcycle with a large hand and stood there, staring at her. Immediately, her relaxed mood vanished, and a hot mixture of anticipation and nervousness swept over her. Inwardly, she groaned. She didn’t need this today.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, crossing her arms under her chest.

“I came to see you. Where’s your car?”

“I walked to work, and I meant what are you doing here? In Star Harbor. Why are you hacking around this little town when you could be in New York City building your empire?”

Seb thought for a few moments before speaking. “I always spend Labor Day weekend in Star Harbor, but this time I’ve decided to stay for longer. I need some space to think away from my restaurant—from New York. Taping on my new show doesn’t start until January, and I want to get my head clear. Plus, I’m looking to open a new place, and I’m scouting out properties in Boston.”

“Okay, now the million-dollar question. Why are you standing outside the back door of my restaurant at five forty-five in the morning?”

Seb shrugged. “I want to watch you work.”

Lexie let out a brief laugh. “I don’t think so.” Sebastian standing over her while she worked would be like Picasso watching a cartoonist draw.

“Oh, come on. I might pick up a few pointers from you.” He gave her a sly smile.

She looked at him dubiously. “Don’t insult me, Chef Grayson.”

“I’m not,” he said earnestly. “I’m dying to know what’s in that coconut cake.”

“Well, you’re out of luck,” she snapped. “I always bake my cakes at night. I just ice them in the morning.”

“Let me stick around anyway. I promise I’ll stay out of the way. I want to see you in action.” As he spoke, he took a few steps toward her, closing the distance between them.

Lexie held up one of her hands, both to keep him physically at bay and to stop him from speaking. “Just so I have this straight, a nationally acclaimed chef whose star has only begun to rise wants to observe me in my no-name restaurant to see if he can ‘pick up a few pointers’?”

“You think my star is rising?” He looked pleased.

“That is beside the point,” Lexie said in a disgruntled fashion. “I’m asking you if that’s what you actually intend. To learn from me?”

“That’s right.”

“What’s the catch?”

“No catch.”

“All right then, what’s the joke?”

“No joke.”

“Well, okay then, let me think about it.” Lexie struck a pensive pose for all of two seconds. “No.”

“Please reconsider.”

“Why should I?”

“Because I’m a famous chef who needs to work on his people skills. My assistant told me I had no warmth. Yesterday, when I was in your restaurant, I watched you work. You’re full of passion and you have a way with people. You always have a smile on your face, even under pressure. You were the only one on the floor, but you didn’t yell or snipe at anyone. I want to watch you. Learn from you.”

Lexie fell silent and looked down. Seb pressed his advantage, taking another few steps toward her.

“It would mean a lot to me.”

She stayed quiet, head down, considering his request.

He was right in front of her now. “Please,” he asked.

She looked up at him. The heat from his gaze burned into her. It was difficult to think clearly when he was staring directly at her like that, and from less than a foot away. He was just so large, so masculine. His hooded green eyes, the planes of his face, and that mouth. Oh, that mouth. She tried to push the thought from her mind.

Privately, she had to admit that it would be something to be able to say that the famous Sebastian Grayson had been in her restaurant. In her kitchen. She could handle a day with him, right? Besides, all of the kitchen staff and customers would have their eyes on him. It wasn’t as if he’d be able to try anything.

Lexie brushed off the nagging feeling that something could go wrong. “This definitely goes against my better judgment, but I’ll say yes.”

He grinned. “I’m glad you changed your mind. You won’t be sorry.”

“I’m already sorry. And you might be, too, when you hear my conditions.”

“What conditions?”

“One, you stay out of my way. No talking, no messing around, and definitely no helping.”

“Done,” Seb agreed.

“And two, no touching me.”

Seb groaned. “Aw, c’mon. I’m dying to touch you right now,” he murmured, his voice roughening.

“No dice,” she said, holding up a warning hand as she took a step backward.

“Cole already told me he’d kill me if I touched you.”

“Cole’s a wise man,” Lexie said, her eyes locked on Seb’s. He was a bit too close for her comfort, regardless of her “no touching” rule. “He knew I wouldn’t like it if you did.”

“No one said I couldn’t look at you, though.”

“So look.” Lexie shrugged her shoulders before raising a brow. “It’s not your eyes I’m worried about.”

Seb threw back his head and laughed heartily. “There’s that sassy mouth. I like it. No one ever talks to me like that.”

“Well, there’s a lot more where that came from, buddy,” Lexie muttered, as she walked around him to the service door. She fished the key out of her pocket and fit it into the lock. As she jiggled the key to open the sticky lock, she made the mistake of looking up over her shoulder. Seb had one hand on the side of the building, effectively trapping her between the door and his body.

He smiled, a slow, sensual smile that reached his eyes. “You look delicious,” he said in a low voice. “I’m tempted to break rule number two right now.”

Lexie swallowed but collected herself before he could notice. “Don’t even think about it, Chef,” she said as she turned the key and slipped inside. “I have the sheriff’s department on speed dial. Now I’ve got to get this place in order before we open, so sit down and stay out of my way.”

Seb stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. “I can’t snoop around to find your coconut cake recipe?”

“There isn’t one. It’s all up here.” Lexie tapped her temple with her forefinger.

“Guess I’m out of luck for now. But I’ll get it out of you.”

“Not a chance.”

“I can be very persuasive.” He moved closer to her.

Lexie stiffened. “Pretend I’m immune to your methods.”

“I’d rather find out for myself.”

The service door creaked as Buster walked in. Lexie breathed a sigh of relief. Seeing Seb, Buster gave her a quizzical look.

“He’s observing for the day. And he’s already driving me nuts.”

Buster shrugged and nodded once at Seb. “Hullo,” he said softly, and without further ado, he took off his jacket and methodically began setting up his workstation.

Lexie looked at Seb. “Well?”

“I’ll sit right here,” Seb said, gesturing to a small wooden bench by the service door. Lexie nodded, shucked off her jacket, and went to work. As she prepped her station and began organizing the pastry dough, she snuck a glance at Seb. He was watching her intently, his large body dwarfing the tiny bench. He’d taken off his own jacket and had slung it beside him.

Quickly, she shifted her attention back to her work. No use dwelling on his presence; she’d already wasted enough time arguing with him. She kept working, noticing that Buster kept one eye on Sebastian the whole time he was chopping vegetables.

Lexie spoke into the silence. “Glad the produce came this morning. What explanation did Art give for the missed delivery yesterday? I meant to call him to complain, but I never got the chance.”

“Wasn’t Art. Some kid named Jake dropped the stuff off,” Buster said.

“Weird,” said Lexie, puzzled. “I really have to call Art to see what’s going on. Remind me to do that after breakfast. And Luke is coming later to fix the gas line?”

“Yep. Can’t imagine how it broke again. But don’t worry. We can set up the grill room like we did yesterday to pick up the slack until the stove is working again. You also asked me to remind you to call the lawyer.”

“Oh, yes, thanks. I need to get the paperwork squared away for the catering business.”

Buster grunted. “When are you planning the launch?”

“In a few weeks. I was thinking about making Emma’s wedding our first official event—you know, cater to a friendly crowd, then open up LMK Catering for business afterward.” And with Paige Sinclair lurking around, it couldn’t be soon enough.

“Smart.”

They continued to work in companionable silence, and the only sounds in the kitchen were related to food preparation. Soon, her line cooks came through the door. They must have been studying up on their culinary knowledge because they knew exactly who Sebastian Grayson was. Unfortunately, the moment they clapped eyes on him, they were completely useless. Lexie was forced to continue chopping and grating for half an hour while her assistants drooled over Seb.

He didn’t have to look so smug while he was signing autographs and telling war stories. Nor did he have to look so good—his long, strong body leaning back against the wall—as he spoke with them.

Finally, Lexie got her cooks back on track and handed the rest of the prep work off to them. She returned to her baking, and threw on an apron in case it got busy and she needed to cover for her waitstaff. She jumped in and out of projects, picking up the slack, urging her staff on, and taking care of LMK’s customers.

She completely ignored Seb, even though he was helpfully doling out suggestions to her cooks and flirting with her waitresses, blatantly breaking Rule Number One. Everyone except her and Buster plied him with food and drink, going out of their way to make him comfortable and happy—at the expense of their own work. As she became increasingly exhausted, Seb was living the good life.

Before she knew it, the entire day had slipped away and it was dinnertime. There was an especially busy crowd, and she was dashing around so much that she forgot Seb was even there. But when she straightened from bending down to take several roast chickens out of the oven, she realized Seb was sitting on the bench behind her, eating a piece of her coconut cake and staring at her ass. She glared at him as he took a forkful of cake and popped it in his mouth, giving her a wickedly lascivious look.

“All right. That’s it,” she said angrily. “You are driving me insane. You have to go.”

He swallowed the bite of cake. “What?” he asked, his impish grin belying the innocent tone of his voice.

“What? I’ll tell you what. All day you’ve been distracting my staff, eating my food, and generally annoying the hell out of me. I want you out of here now.”

“I’ll tell you what,” Seb said easily, standing as he spoke and setting the cake plate on one of the prep tables. “I challenge you to a culinary throw-down. You choose the dish, and we’ll both make our own versions. We’ll get friends to judge. If I win, I get to shadow you for a week.”

Seb’s large body filled up the space around her, but for once, she didn’t care. “Why should I accept your challenge? I could just kick you out right now.”

“What’s the matter?” he smirked. “Afraid you’ll lose?”

Lexie straightened her back. “Quite the contrary. But why go to all the trouble when I know I’m going to win?” she said in as condescending a tone as possible.

“Big talk, but I haven’t seen too much action here,” he goaded, gesturing toward her two line cooks. “You have other people doing your dirty work.” It was a deliberate provocation and she knew he knew it.

“What?” Lexie sputtered, outraged. “You are such a hypocrite. Like you don’t have line cooks and a sous chef working for you?” While her staff watched with openmouthed expressions, Lexie motioned for him to follow her out the service door and into the back alley. He casually slung on his jacket and did as she asked.

The door slammed behind them.

“How dare you imply I don’t do my own cooking,” she hissed. “I created every single recipe this restaurant serves. I handpick each ingredient and taste-test everything half a dozen times before I even let Buster try it. I trained my assistants. I determine what is good enough to leave this kitchen. You see me in there busting my butt to provide the best food and service the LMK can offer.”

He looked at her and raised an eyebrow. “And what a fine butt it is,” he said.

She looked at him in disgust. “Fine. I accept your challenge, and I can’t wait for the chance to wipe that ridiculous, smug expression off your face,” Lexie said, lifting her chin up slightly. “And when I win, you will not return to the LM Kitchen. Ever.”

“Agreed.”

“Good then.” She held out her hand for a handshake.

Seb looked down at her outstretched hand, and then up again at her face. “Oh, no,” he said, shaking his head. “If I’m going to break your second rule by touching you, it’s damn well not going to be your hand.”

“What are you talking about?”

“This,” he said, closing the short distance between them. Without any other preliminary, he wove his fingers through her hair and bent his head down to kiss her firmly on the mouth.