Buchanan: Delicious Part 3

Reid Buchanan was legendary. Not just for his incredible career as a major league pitcher, but for the way women adored him. Part of it was the Buchanan good looks and charm that all the brothers had. Part of it was that Reid just plain loved women. All women. Former girlfriends ranged from the traditional models and actresses to mother-earth tree huggers nearly a decade older than him. Smart, dumb, short, tall, skinny, curvy, he liked them all. And they liked him.

Penny had known Reid for years. She'd met him two days after meeting Cal. She liked to joke that it had been love at first sight with the latter and best friends at first sight with the former.

"You'll never guess what I did today," she said.

Reid raised his dark eyebrows. "Darlin', the way you've been surprising me lately, I wouldn't even try."

"I had lunch with your brother."

Reid leaned back in his chair. "I know you mean Cal because Walker is still stationed overseas. Okay, I'll bite. Why?"

"He offered me a job. He wants me to be the executive chef at The Waterfront."

"Huh?"

Reid might be a part of the family but until he'd blown out his shoulder in the bottom of the third late last June, he'd never been involved in the business.

"That's the fish place, right?" he asked.

She laughed. "Yeah. And Buchanan's is the steak house and you're running the sports bar and Dani takes care of Burger Heaven. Jeez, Reid, this is your heritage. You have a family empire going here."

"No. What I have is a two-for-one appetizer special during happy hour. You gonna take the job?"

"I think so." She leaned forward. "He's paying me an outrageous salary and I get a percentage of the profits. It's what I've been waiting for. In three years I'll have enough money to open my own place."

He looked at her. "I told you I'd give you that money. Just tell me how much and I'll write you a check."

She knew he could. Reid had millions invested in all kinds of businesses. But she wouldn't take a loan from a friend. It was too much like being bailed out by her parents.

"I need to do this on my own," she said. "You know that."

"Yeah, yeah. You might want to think about getting that chip off your shoulder, Penny. It's making you walk funny."

She ignored that. "I like the idea of bringing back The Waterfront from the dead. I'll become even more of a star, which will make my restaurant even more successful."

"Not that you're letting all this go to your head."

She laughed. "Look who's talking. Your ego barely fits inside an airplane hangar."

Reid walked around the desk and crouched next to her. He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her cheek. "If this is what you want, you know I'm there for you."

"Thanks." She brushed his dark hair off his forehead and knew that in many ways life would have been a lot simpler if she just could have fallen in love with Reid instead of Cal.

He stood and leaned against the desk. "When do you start?"

"As soon as the paperwork is signed. I've heard the old place needs a total renovation, but we don't have time for that. We're going to have to make do. I need to put together menus, hire a kitchen staff."

Reid folded his arms over his chest. "You didn't tell him, did you?"

She squirmed in her seat. "It's not important information."

"Sure it is. Let me guess. You figured he wouldn't hire you if he knew, but once you're in place, he can't fire you for it."

"Pretty much."

"Slick, Penny. But it's not like you to play games."

"I wanted the job. It was the only way to get it."

"He's not going to like it."

She rose. "I don't see why it matters one way or the other. Cal and I have been divorced nearly three years. Now we're going to work together. It's a very new-millennium relationship."

Reid looked at her. "Trust me, when my brother finds out you're pregnant, there's going to be h.e.l.l to pay and for more reasons than you know."

CHAPTER TWO.

FOUR DAYS LATER Penny drove to The Waterfront and pulled into the empty parking lot. The day was typical for March, cool, cloudy with a promise of rain later. As she stepped out onto the cracked pavement, she inhaled the smell of wet wood, salt water and fish. There were seagulls crying loudly and an air of desolation to the old building. Several remodels and patch jobs couldn't disguise that the structure had been through tough times.

There was nothing sadder than a deserted restaurant, she thought. It was midmorning. There should be activity as the prep cooks arrived to start their day. The chef should have already planned the specials and checked on deliveries. There should be the scent of lingering wood smoke from the grill and a savory hint of spices. Instead a page from the Seattle Times blew past her car.

This was her place now. She'd signed the papers and delivered them back to Cal's office. For the next three years, this was her world and she was master of its fate.

Excitement and antic.i.p.ation knotted in her stomach. Under normal circ.u.mstances she would celebrate with friends, food and wine. For now the wine would have to wait.

"For a good cause," she whispered as she put a hand on her stomach.

A car pulled into the parking lot. She turned to watch a dark blue BMW Z4 pull up next to her. She eyed the expensive convertible and thought of at least a half-dozen comments she could make when Cal climbed out. Had he been paying attention to the weather for the past thirty-one years? Was a convertible in winter really a smart idea?

But when he opened the door and stepped out, she found herself unable to do much more than smile and wave. As he straightened to his full six-plus feet and adjusted his leather jacket, she felt like a bit player in a men's cologne commercial. Her job was to watch the male model in question while staring with slack-jawed adoration. Any speaking parts would have to be played by someone with a functioning brain.

Not good, she thought as her throat got tight, her thighs trembled and her already sensitive b.r.e.a.s.t.s seemed to strain toward him. Under the circ.u.mstances, a visceral reaction to her ex-husband seemed like a very bad idea.

She wasn't worried about them actually meaning anything. She was pregnant, which meant spending her days in a hormone bath. She teared up at Hallmark commercials, sobbed when little kids clutched puppies and generally wanted to send the world a candygram.

Nope, whatever she felt this moment about Cal had nothing to do with him and everything to do with the pencil eraser-sized zygote in her tummy.

But that didn't mean she wasn't fully capable of making a fool out of herself.

She had to remind herself she was a big, bad chef with a reputation for being tough and difficult and something of a perfectionist. She worked with very sharp knives for a living. She could snap chicken bones with her bare hands.

"Ready to take on the world?" Cal asked as he approached.

"Sure. At least my little part of it." She followed him toward the front door. "I'm going to need a key."

He reached in his pocket and pulled out a ring. "They're marked. Front and back doors. All the storerooms. The wine cellar and liquor storage."