All the Way

They spent the next half hour skating.



… Gavin exited the supply room with a satisfied grin.



After a spirited discussion with his pastry guy, he’d chopped away the cost by some serious poker playing. Adrenalin spiked through his bloodstream.



Nothing pumped him up as much as getting a deal, especially when Mia Casa profited. Funny, he prided himself on grinding down his opponents, but this time it seemed less for him than it was for his family.



Wringing out another dollar for McKenzie & Associates didn’t give him the same zing.



He stopped at the bar and watched his lady walk over. The swing of her hips accented the fire of her hair and melted his brain.



Damn, she was hot. He kissed her slow and deep.



“Hey, baby. I got lunch lined up for you.”



“Nice. I always enjoy Tony’s special treats.” She sat on the bar stool and greeted Dominick.



“I’m having a hell of a day and hoping it’ll get better.”



“Poor baby.



Maybe some—what’s the matter?”



She stiffened beside him. “I can’t believe she had the nerve to show up.”



Her eyes shot sparks of fury at the petite woman across the room. Gavin blinked and directed his attention to her table. Legs crossed neatly under the table, she perused the menu and sipped at the ice water, looking like the normal executive on her lunch hour. Her navy blue suit, pearls and pumps pegged her as a conservative businesswoman.



If the woman was all boobs and flash, he’d understand better.



“Who is she?” he asked.



She practically spit the name out.



“Allison Wheaton. The food critic from The Gazette. You know, her column, Allison Speaks.”



Recognition dawned.



Then worry. “Holy crap, is she doing a review? I have to let Tony know.”



Miranda shook her head.



“No, I doubt it. She likes to eat at the restaurants I’ve written about. I found her staking this place out during your opening night for the lounge.”



“Like a groupie?”



She huffed out a breath.



“No, more like a stalker.



She’s been pissed at me since my editor named my column Miranda Eats. She thinks I stole her tagline and wanted to humiliate her. Always states The Gazette has been around longer than us, and we’re a poor carbon copy. She despises the media attention I’ve received, and we’ve been battling ever since.”



He stared at the critic in fascination. Who would’ve known the food industry had its ruthlessness? Sure, he knew about epic chefs and restaurant wars, but critics? He decided not to let Miranda see the humor of the situation, since she seemed about to go all Mafia on him. “Why don’t you go, sweetheart? Come by for dinner later on, and I’ll be able to get off a bit early. We can take in a movie.”



Her gaze never broke away from the woman’s back. “Hell, no. I’m staying right here until I know what she orders. She stole my plum review of La Saveur and my feature in Gourmet magazine. What if she’s discovered we’re together and wants to hurt Mia Casa? I’ll kill her.”



He clamped his lips together.



“Umm, okay, then. I guess it’s to the mattresses.”



“Huh?”



Why didn’t any woman ever appreciate the sheer genius of The Godfather? “Never mind.



Brando’s covering, so I’ll make sure you get the details.”



“Thanks.”



He shook his head as he headed toward the kitchen.



He called over Anthony and Brando quickly. “We got a food critic at table four.” Gavin held up his hands. “I don’t want any panic or strange behavior.



Miranda just tipped me off and says she’s not here for a formal review. But I don’t want any screw-ups just in case. Capisce?”



They both nodded but didn’t move.



Anthony twisted his apron. “What do we do now?” he whispered.



“Cook, Tony. Take her order, Brando.



Get it together, guys!”



They burst back into movement and he double- checked the specials to make sure there’d be no surprises this time. He walked back out and motioned for Dominick to get Miranda a glass of Pinot Grigio to calm her nerves. She hadn’t moved yet from her spying position. “Any updates?”



“Nope. She hasn’t made any calls and just sips at her water. Vegan.”



He drew back. His lady was pretty much one of the sweetest, most forgiving on the planet.



This was quite serious. In moments, Brando rushed over.



“Miranda, she ordered fettuccine carbonara, meatballs, the house salad with Italian dressing, and a side order of broccoli rabe.”



Gavin winced. Ever since that night, he’d longed to take it off the menu, but Pop refused.



Miranda shot up. “That’s the same food I ordered when I wrote my review! What is she up to? I’ve had enough of this crap.”



Brando’s mouth fell open. Gavin watched as his normally serene lover stalked over to table four, dragged out the opposite chair, and plopped down on the seat. Brando looked at him. “What should we do? “I’ll take care of it. Just put in her order.” He walked over to the table and interrupted a fierce staring contest. The air sparked with tension and some other element.



Something purely feminine.



He cleared his throat.



“Excuse me, I’d like to introduce myself.



I’m Gavin, and I’m the owner of Mia Casa. I wanted to welcome you today, and check if you needed anything.”



The lady smiled up with a predator-like smile that scared the crap out of him.



Oh yeah, this was one straight from the movies— cold to the bone. She gave a brief nod. “A pleasure to meet you, Gavin.



I’m looking forward to my lunch before I return to the office.”



Miranda leaned forward.



“What are you doing here, Allison? First the lounge, now lunch. Don’t you have a snobby French place to review?”



The woman snorted.



“Maybe I’m just wondering what’s so fascinating about reviewing spaghetti and meatballs, Miranda eats.



Your readership must be slipping.”



Whoa. Miranda pushed up out of her chair, back ramrod-straight.



“Just trying to compete with the educational, inspiring review of the gyro from your review last month.”



The sweetness of her smile flashed pure malice.



“Take-out Greek must be the new rage. Or so says the truck on the corner of 8th Avenue.”



Allison gasped. Gavin looked back and forth between them, as if watching Wimbledon and refusing to miss a serve.



“Umm, ladies, may I get you a glass of wine on the house?”



They ignored him.



“You know how I like to encompass all food genres. All classes of people. Your work is so one-dimensional. Perhaps that’s why I’ve been invited to review Americanize Steak House before the grand opening.” Allison licked her lips in triumph. “I guess he’ll be calling to cancel your invitation.”



Miranda gasped. “I was supposed to do a column on his opening and you know it! We set this up months ago.” Her body shook. “What did you do to pull this coup off?”



Allison drew her lips back in a sneer. “It’s called talent. But I’m sure you could trade sexual favors to bump you back up the list.”



Gavin jerked back. Holy shit, were women allowed to trade insults like that? Miranda jumped up from the table, and suddenly Allison was in her face.



One glance around the room showed the men in his family completely entranced with the idea of a cat fight. Ah, hell, no one was breaking this up unless he stepped in.



“How dare you? I don’t need to mix business with pleasure like you do.



Favorably reviewing all of your boyfriend’s restaurants is despicable.



My career comes first, and I respect the public.”



“Umm, Miranda, maybe we should get some air?”



He grasped her shoulder to ease her back, but she shook him off like a prized fighter.



“I bet you’d sell out your career for a cheap lay.”



Allison sniffed and looked down at her. “I’ve been in the business much longer than you. It’s a proven fact in the industry.



Mix criticism with pleasure and you have a disaster.”



A stillness came over his lover and his gut clenched.



Uh-oh. Something big was going down, and he had a bad feeling. A triumphant expression crossed Miranda’s face. He didn’t have a moment to process the result.



“Maybe you don’t take your career as seriously as I do. You see, Gavin is both the owner of Mia Casa and my lover. I wrote the review while we were dating.”



With one quick movement, she grasped his head and pulled his mouth down to hers. He heard the whoosh of his own breath at the openly carnal, open-mouth kiss, the gasp of Allison, and the laughter of the crowd. With a huge wet smack, she released him, and gave her enemy a brilliant smile.



Allison stared at them both.



“Impossible.



You trashed your own lover’s restaurant?”



Miranda beamed. “Damn straight, I did.



I’m hardcore. Don’t forget it, Allison.”



With a saucy grin, she walked out the door.



Point, set, and match to Miranda.



Score.



Yeah, he loved the hell out of that woman. Now he had to find a way to keep her, save the restaurant, and get his partnership. He was due to hear back from his boss by the end of the week, and he hoped to God he wasn’t out of time.



… Gavin sat in his office and studied the spreadsheets.



A slight throb at the back of his neck warned him a headache was on the way.



He rubbed his temples and tried to concentrate. His future lay before him in all its former glory, and suddenly instead of the yellow brick road, it looked more like the road to Perdition.



He clicked the mouse and brought up the email.



His boss was quite clear in his intentions. Gavin’s time was officially expired. He was due in China by the end of the week. The airline tickets attached slammed him back into reality. If he did his job, he’d finally get his partnership.



A partnership he didn’t even know if he wanted anymore.



Everything seemed to have changed this past year. In a cutthroat world where profit and flexibility for travel meant success, he’d carved out a name for himself and a reputation that preceded him. He’d been proud of the accomplishment, but after walking into his fourth meeting of the day, he realized he’d reached thirty years old and lived on antacids and caffeine.



Burn-out flickered at the edges of his life. He lived in conference rooms and out of suitcases and briefcases. He’d been in Rome and never viewed the Coliseum. Lived in London for two weeks and couldn’t say what the Queen’s residence looked like. Life passed him by, and thoughts of what he gave up with Miranda tortured him.



Before his father called, he’d taken a long vacation and traveled for pleasure.



For knowledge. For self- actualization. He studied self-help books and got hooked on the mastery of ancient yogis who reached enlightenment and had nothing in their pocket.



When he reached India, something clicked deep inside. Finally, he found the truth. Peace was all from the inside, and had nothing to do with how many accounts can be closed in so little time.