Delicious

“I don’t usually.”

She hadn’t before, either. She’d been content to whip up something incredible in their kitchen and he’d been happy to let her.

He returned his attention to her demands. He wouldn’t give her everything she wanted on general principle. Plus it was just plain bad business.

“You can have creative control over the menus and the back half of the store,” he said. “Specialty items stay with the house.”

Anything a chef created while in the employ of a restaurant was owned by that restaurant.

“I want to be able to take them with me when I go.” She forked a piece of lettuce. “It’s a deal-breaker, Cal.”

“You’ll come up with something new there.”

“The point is I don’t want to create something wonderful and leave it in your family’s less than capable hands.” She glanced at him. “Before you get all defensive, let me point out that five years ago, The Waterfront had a waiting list every single weekend.”

“You can have your name on the menu,” he said. “As executive chef.”

He saw her stiffen. She’d never had that title before. It would mean something now.

“And three percent of the profits,” he added.

“Eight.”

“Four.”

“Six.”

“Five,” he said. “But you don’t get a say in the general manager.”

“I have to work with him or her.”

“And he or she has to work with you.”

She grinned. “But I have a reputation of being nothing but sunshine and light in the workplace. You know that.”

He’d heard she was a perfectionist and relentless in her quest for quality. She had also been called difficult, annoying and just plain brilliant.

“You can’t dictate the GM,” he said. “He’s already been hired. At least in the short term.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Who is it?”

“You’ll find out later. Besides, the first guy’s just coming in to do cleanup. Someone else will be hired in a few months. You can have a say on him or her.”

Her eyebrows rose. “Interesting. A gunslinger coming in to clean up the town. I think I like that.” She drew in a breath. “How about five percent of the profits, a three-year deal, I get some say in the next GM and I take my specialty items with me.” She held up her hand. “But only to my own place and you can keep them on The Waterfront menu as well.”

He wasn’t surprised she wanted to branch out on her own. Most good chefs did. Few had the capital or the management skills.

“Oh, and that salary you offered me before was fine,” she said.

“Of course it was,” he told her. “That assumed you didn’t get this other stuff. How many are you bringing with you?”

“Two. My sous-chef and my assistant.”

Chefs usually came with a small staff. As long as they worked well with the others in the kitchen, Cal didn’t care.

“You’ll never take the vacation,” he said. At least she never had before.

“I want it,” she said. “Just so we’re clear, I will be using it.”

He shrugged. “Not until we’re up and running.”

“I was thinking late summer. I’ll have everything together by then.”

Maybe. She hadn’t seen the mess yet.

“Is that it?” he asked.

She considered for a second, then shrugged. “Get me the offer in writing. I’ll look it over and then let you know if we have a deal.”

“You’d never get this much anywhere else. Don’t pretend you’ll back out.”

The smugness returned. “You never know, Cal. I want to hear what your competition puts on the table.”

“I know who’s interested. They’ll never cut you in for that much of the profit.”

“True enough, but their restaurants are successful. A smaller percentage of something is better than a big chunk of nothing.”

“This could make you a star,” he said. “People would notice.”

“People already notice.”

He wanted to tell her she wasn’t all that special. That he could name five chefs who would do as good a job. The problem was he couldn’t. In the past three years, Penny had made a name for herself. He needed that to dig The Waterfront out of its hole.

“I’ll have the agreement couriered over to your place tomorrow afternoon,” he said.

She practically purred her contentment. “Good.”

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Oh, yeah. I won’t even mind working for you because every time you piss me off, I’m going to remind you that you came looking for me. That you needed me.”

Revenge. He respected that. It annoyed him, but he respected it.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked as she picked up a pecan. “You got out of the family business years ago.”

Back when they’d been married, he thought. He’d escaped, only to be dragged in again.

“Someone had to save the sinking ship,” he said.