The Millionaire's Deception, page 6
…
Rafe was on a roll. Just like always. And that little hitch in his gut was only because she was hot and sexy, and when she learned what he’d been up to, any chance he had of getting up close and personal with that hot bod of hers was pretty much shot out of the water.
He’d opened his arms wide and she’d given him the ammunition to make it all happen. He had to finesse the money to make it palatable to her sensibilities. Even if she wasn’t a person who enjoyed the finer things in life, the reality of her situation had to be closing in on her. Although she didn’t admit as much, he couldn’t miss the gleam in her eye when she talked about seeing the world and settling down to raise a family.
No doubt about it, her financial situation was dire. Her income last year barely put her above the poverty line, as he’d suspected based on his recognizance Friday night. If she lived in Manhattan on that income she’d be out on the street. Still, she stood by her convictions when she turned down the offer a week ago. He had to admire that, even if he thought she was a little crazy. What was she holding out for? Maybe she wanted some input into how the new place would be run or what it would look like. She was a great chef; maybe Probst would consider ensuring she’d be in charge of the new restaurant they’d planned on constructing. That would increase her cash flow and give her more leeway to take time off. It could be a win-win for her.
Then again, maybe she was hoping to squeeze more money from Probst?
He shook his head. Nah, he was excellent at reading people, and that wasn’t how she operated. Unlike him, she was a straight shooter. What you saw is what you got with her.
How much of what he’d learned should he share with Probst? Normally, he used this kind of intel for leverage to get the deal done. But telling them about her financial trouble made his gut twitch.
What in the holy hell was the matter with him? Since when had ethics stood in the way of him and his payday? Never. He was only out for himself. Nobody else. He worked too hard to rid himself of his past to get mired in the muck of small-town craziness.
The sooner he got out of this place, the better.
Instead of dwelling on what kind of man he’d become, he bundled up the stuff she’d given him and walked down the back steps. This was a case where he didn’t have to spin information to get someone to make the choice he wanted them to make. The facts were there in blazing Technicolor. No spinning necessary.
He knew she wouldn’t be ready to accept the inevitable. Her ties to this town, to this restaurant, seemed unbreakable.
He needed to figure out a way to couch the offer so she felt like it was a win for her. What would entice her to leave? What carrot could Probst dangle to make it possible?
He knocked on the unlocked back door—of course it would be unlocked, because everyone in this f-in’ place was in a state of denial about the real world—and walked inside. She wore a white apron and had her curly hair pulled back as she stirred a big pot of something on the stove.
To say she looked like the sexiest women he’d ever seen seemed ludicrous, considering her attire, but damn if she didn’t. Testosterone seemed to be in abundant supply when she was around. Damn if he could explain it in any rational way.
“Smells really good in here.” He ambled over and took a whiff of the red bubbly stuff in the humongous pot.
“I made some lasagna tonight with two choices, either veggie or meat.” She turned her head to look at him and smiled. He nearly lost it. Damn it. What the hell was wrong with him? “I forgot to tell you, to make my life easier on Sundays, it’s chef’s choice for dinner. We have it buffet-style with music and wine.”
“Sounds amazing.” His loft was close to Little Italy in New York, and he frequently ate there, but her cooking seemed to take Italian to another level. This business could work if it weren’t in a place where the population was not only small but destined to die off soon.
“Any ideas after looking through my data?” She chewed her lip as if she were nervous about letting him be privy to her personal information. She was too damn trusting. And he was too damn untrustworthy.
He could hear the helpful lilt to her voice, and he quashed the hint of guilt lingering in a part of his brain he hadn’t realized he had. This whole thing should be easy. It wasn’t as if he was lying to her…well, except about who he really was, and why he was really here. But facts were facts. She’d be happy she made the decision to sell. He just had to get her over the initial reluctance.
“You need to make more money.”
“Brilliant. They pay you big bucks for that kind of insight?” She smiled and her eyes twinkled. Trust, hopefulness, and optimism shown through. “Sign me up for that gravy train pronto.”
What was it with these people? This town was like Mayberry. One big happy family, with each one happier than the next. They whipped themselves into a happy frenzy on a daily basis. Their house might be on fire, but they found the positive in it. He needed some of that happy juice. Then again, he liked his realist foundation. It kept him from being disappointed. And poor.
“To be honest, I don’t know how you’re surviving. You’re one major furnace repair away from bankruptcy.” Shit. He didn’t mean to say it so callously, but she needed to consider the bid from Probst, especially if he could get them to come up. This place was one strong wind away from rubble. She could make friends anywhere. Ones that would be a whole lot closer to her age, too. She could date. Have a real life. It shouldn’t be that difficult to convince her.
Her smile faltered. “Geez, talk about mood killer.”
“You could raise your prices and develop an emergency fund.” Or she could do some promotional stuff and get people to drive the twenty minutes from Vicksburg to dine here. No doubt she’d be turning people away if she did that, and her profit would go through the roof. She had a gold mine here if she’d do a little promotion. But he wouldn’t tell her that and shoot himself in the foot. “Or maybe you could make people pay for their food.” He shrugged. “Just a thought.”
She winced. “They pay. Most times.”
“Like that family of six that came in last night. And the couple that sits by the window.”
“I went to high school with Paul. He lost his job a while back and has been struggling. His wife just had their fourth child, and I know times are tough. I usually give him leftovers from the kitchen every night.” She held up her hand when he started to talk. “Health code regulations. It’s not like I can serve the stuff, so it’s going to get thrown out anyway. They’re appreciative, and I feel better knowing I could help.”
Damn, this woman was amazing, but he needed to stop thinking about her great qualities. His killer instinct needed to get back in control. She was the obstacle in his pursuit to financial freedom. And he was here to bring her down way one or another. “Okay, I get that, but there are others here you give a free pass to.”
“It’s the end of the month, and social security checks don’t come until the first. They pay me back.”
“Are you sure?”
She huffed. “Another hundred or so dollars isn’t going to be life or death for this restaurant. Besides, these people are my family. I don’t keep a running tab on anybody.”
“Maybe you should. I think people take advantage.”
Her back went ramrod straight as she folded her arms across her chest. “You’ve been around for two days and suddenly you’re an expert on what goes on in this town?”
“I’m a good observer of people.”
She chewed on the corner of her lip. “I appreciate that you looked over my books, but I’m going to do what I’m going to do.”
“Absolutely. I’m only giving you an objective opinion.” This was not going well. He needed to up his game.
As she pulled the lasagna bubbling from the oven, she hip-checked the door a little more forcefully than he would have expected. The front door opened and she snapped to attention and waved to the crowd that filtered into the dining room. She turned toward him, a tight smile on her face. “Would you let them know I’ll be out in a minute with the food?”
This should be a cakewalk. But somehow it wasn’t.
He ignored the pinch in his chest and walked into the dining room. For the first time, he noticed she’d rearranged the tables. One long table was set against the front windows, while the other tables had been pushed together in two rows.
“Good evening, ladies.” Pulling out the charm that let him get the job done was easy. “How are you this evening?”
“Just fine, handsome. What were you and our girl Frankie whispering about in back?” Before he could formulate a response, Louisa continued, “I hear you’re living together.”
He held up his hand to stop the swell of excitement he saw building on their faces. “Not exactly true. My bike broke down, and she’s letting me stay in her parents’ old apartment. There’s nothing going on between us.”
“That’s a darn shame. To be honest, I think the poor girl could use a little adventure in her life,” Louisa responded.
Bette slammed her palms around the table. “For heaven’s sake, Louisa, don’t beat around the bush. What she means is the poor girl hasn’t seen any action in very long time,” Bette added in a voice so loud it seemed to reverberate along the walls in the diner.
“I heard that,” Frankie yelled from the kitchen as she smiled. Apparently, she was used to other people talking about her love life. He’d thought that would have been enough to get her to sell. It sure as hell would have for him.
“And the guys around here aren’t exactly swoon-worthy,” another one of the women whispered.
“I know what we need. Come on, help us, handsome.” Bette pulled out what looked like a iPod and put it in a speaker, sending music through the restaurant. “We need to get some real music to get this Sunday night party started.” She stood and grasped Rafe’s hands. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
Before he knew it, he was doing the Electric Slide with a group of senior citizens. Wouldn’t Probst have a field day if they knew this constituted getting the job done?
“Well, ladies, that was fun, but I’d better see if I can help Frankie bring some stuff out from the kitchen.” When he tried to scoot away, Louisa grasped her arms.
“You’ve passed test one.” Without another word, she and the ladies went back to their table.
He walked into the kitchen as Frankie sampled the sauce by dipping a chunk of bread and taking a taste. Something foreign shimmied through him, and he fought it back.
Seal the deal.
A nice healthy nest egg was only the beginning. Maybe he’d retire to a tropical island and live the remainder of his life free of any encumbrances. Maybe then he could shake his past and know he was better than his lineage would portray. The bonus was Frankie would be free of the chains this place kept around her, too.
“I see you’ve been indoctrinated.” She smiled. And it was genuine, although he didn’t understand why. The woman was broke and had no life in this godforsaken town, but still she seemed happy. He didn’t get it. You couldn’t pay him enough to live in this place. He’d seen too many towns like this when growing up, each one snubbing their noses at him and his family.
“Huh?”
“The ladies like to try out all eligible gentlemen to gauge their dancing moves. They believe there’s a correlation between rhythm and…well…you know…rhythm.”
“You mean sex?” He shook his head. “Don’t tell me one of them is going to proposition me?”
She laughed so hard she dropped the spoon into the sauce. “Now look what you made me do,” she uttered in between giggles. “If you could see the look on your face.” She broke into more peals of laughter. “I can see you thinking, how am I going to let them down gently…funny.”
“Glad you’re getting off on this.” Okay, bad choice of words. “Being a sexual object is not what it’s cracked up to be.” He shook his head while he laughed.
“I hate to burst your bubble, but I think they’re scheming to write a book like Fifty Shades for senior citizens, from what I’ve heard around town.”
“Spare me the details.” He did not want to go there.
She giggled. “They’re having fun making up stories, so what’s the harm?”
He shrugged and fought off the sexy lure of her innocent demeanor. Had he ever possessed the guilelessness he spotted in her? If he ever did, it must have been when he was very young, because as far back as he could remember, he’d figured he would get screwed over and acted proactively. It seemed like she expected the best in people and shrugged off the idea of setting them straight.
Why? That was the question tunneling through his brain.
“Let me bring out the water pitcher. No doubt they’re thirsty after dancing.” He had to get some space between the two of them. Seeing her always happy and trusting struck him as odd. There had to be another side to her. Or was he the odd one?
Nobody could be that naive.
“And grab the salad bowl and garlic bread if you could?”
“Sure.” When he walked back to the dining area, he noticed the place was nearly full. The jar left on the bar was filled with bills of all denominations, but mostly ones as far as he could tell. She must trust people to pay their share. Interesting concept, but in his reality incomprehensible.
He dropped off the stuff and went back to help her bring out trays of food, placing them on the table under the window. As soon as the trays hit the table, people started to line up to get their share. After everyone had filled their plates, he went with her to get some food. The scene seemed right out of a movie script with everyone laughing and talking together.
Most nights in New York he ordered takeout and ate alone at his kitchen table, poring over financials of one company or another while eating. The concept of conversing during dinner seemed foreign, but it appeared to be the norm in Podunk, USA.
Upping the charm, he pulled out Frankie’s chair. She smiled in return and sat down. He didn’t think he was being paranoid when it seemed like everyone had stopped talking to stare at the two of them. Quiet descended as if they expected something momentous to happen. Frankie poured wine from the pitcher to fill both their glasses and raised hers. “Salute.” They all raised their classes and clinked.
After imbibing wine and food, one by one, people started dancing. Some couples, some women dancing in groups, and a whole lot more younger people than he’d seen since he hit town. Did people congregate here for the food, the company—or more than likely, the cheap dinner?
“Is it my imagination, or do we seem to be objects of speculation tonight?” Sitting this close to her made him hyperaware. Sexy hair combined with olive-toned skin, big brown eyes, and pouty red lips blended together in a breathtaking mix. Unlike most women he knew, she wore very little makeup other than some liner around her eyes and deep red lipstick accenting that amazing mouth of hers. Despite her nickname from long ago, the aroma around her smelled citrusy and inviting. Way too inviting for what he had on his agenda.
She glanced at him and smiled. He cursed the way his heart sped up from that briefest of gestures.
“I’m sure there’s some betting going on about the two of us, especially after Ty caught us in a compromising position this afternoon.”
“But that could be explained.” Everything but his bodily reaction, but that was only physical. Nothing more. Nothing less.
She patted his hand. “Not in small towns. They’re famous for making mountains out of molehills to make things interesting. In case you haven’t noticed, nothing much to do around here except gossip, and when that fails, they make up stuff to gossip about.”
“Sounds a little pathetic, if you ask me. Why is it you want to stay around here again?” Whenever possible, he needed to drive home the point of the incongruence of her living here.
Before she could respond, Dustin ambled over and held out his hand to Frankie. “They’re playing our song.” He spoke the words loudly, and everyone started to clap as if the whole thing were rehearsed.
Chris Issak’s “Baby Did a Bad Bad Thing” began to play, and she shimmied out of her seat to join him on the dance floor. Clearly, everyone knew what to expect and contributed to the moment with wolf whistles and catcalls. Another guy followed; maybe it was that Ty guy from earlier. Hard to know when the haze of what seemed like jealousy hung before his eyes. He shook his head. This was not happening. It had to be only because they were interfering with his goal.
When her endless dance card had finally been depleted, she sat down next to him. “Given the song choice, I have ask, what was the bad, bad thing you did? Everyone seemed to be in on the joke but me.”
She threw back her head and laughed. “When I caught Dustin cheating the last time, I filled his new car with spaghetti sauce, pasta, lasagna. Every speck of leftovers we had that night. He told me he’s still finding foodstuff after five years.”
“Remind me not to get on your bad side.”
She smirked. “I can’t imagine you’ll be here long enough to get on my bad side.”
Rafe held out his hand, liking the touch of her skin much more than he should have. “I do believe I’m the only guy in this place you haven’t danced with.”
She smiled and rose to her feet as the song changed to “You and Me” by Lifehouse. He wouldn’t have trusted himself with her alone, but in a room filled with people figured he was safe from the effects of the lust running roughshod through him since the day he walked into her café.
As she snuggled against him and the whiff of tangerine drifted under his nose, he had an inkling he was in deep shit. When the song ended, and he wove his hands under her hair and kissed her, he knew he’d lost his damn mind. Which was bad enough. But he couldn’t stop himself and be satisfied with a slight touch of his lips to hers. No, he had to go all Neanderthal and slide his tongue inside her mouth. The worst part was he’d forgotten they weren’t alone, so when he stopped and placed his forehead against hers and the room exploded into claps and cheers, he knew he’d opened up a can of worms he didn’t see coming.
