The Drifter

“Oh, yes,” Lily teased. “But I hear the chef at the Garden Gate is turning into a bit of diva. Television appearances, interviews in foodie magazines, a new cookbook and a possible television series for the Food Channel. Her partner has been having trouble finding toques that fit her ever-expanding head. Of course, she can’t be bothered with something as mundane as a handsome man.”

“One of the reasons we’ve been successful is that we focus on outstanding food and impeccable service. Not hitting on the customers,” Eve said.

“I’m not looking to date him,” Lily said. “I’m perfectly happy with Will. I’m just looking to … look. God, he’s gorgeous. You should go out there and ask him if he likes his curried carrot soup.”

Eve groaned. Since her divorce three years ago, she hadn’t put much effort into dating. In truth, she’d put more thought into becoming a NASA astronaut than she had searching for a new man. Not that she didn’t have a perfectly valid excuse for living like a nun. Her restaurant was growing in popularity. She’d already published one vegetarian cookbook and was working on another. Add to that the seminars she taught at three different cooking schools on the West Coast and there wasn’t much time for a social life. She was even in preliminary talks with an investment group about opening a new restaurant in Seattle and hosting a cable show on the Food Channel.

Men had simply drifted to the bottom of the list of important things on her agenda. After the mess that had been her marriage and the bigger mess that had been her divorce, Eve wasn’t sure she ever wanted to allow a man into her life again.

“Just take a look,” Lily said, pulling Eve away from the prep table. “You’ve been living in my guest room for three years. I see your social life first hand and it’s pathetic. Last week you alphabetized the spices on my spice rack. The week before, you cleaned the grease trap on the kitchen sink. You need to get a life, Eve.”

“I have a life. Here. In this restaurant.”

“This isn’t life. It’s work.” Lily gently took the knife from her hand and set it next to the red peppers Eve had been chopping. Then she reached up and snatched the colorful bandanna off Eve’s head. “Go ahead,” she said, ruffling Eve’s short-cropped auburn hair. “Just wander on out there, smile at the customers, and ask him how his soup is.” Lily shoved a basket of quick breads into her hand. “Offer him some three-grain nut loaf.”

Eve knew she ought to spend more time in the dining room. All the best chefs interacted with their clientele. But life inside the confines of the kitchen was so much easier than life in the outside world. She peeked though the window of the swinging door, searching for the object of Lily’s attention.

When her gaze finally found the lonely guy at table seven, her breath caught in her throat. “Oh, God,” she muttered, turning away from the door.

“You don’t think he’s cute?” Lily asked. “Oh, good grief, Eve, if you’re that picky you’re never going to have sex again for the rest of your life.”

“Yes, he’s cute,” Eve snapped. “But I’m not going out there.”

“Why?” Lily asked, taking a peek through the window. “Too cute?”

“Too … everything,” Eve said, shoving the basket back into Lily’s hands. “Been there, done that.”

Lily gasped. “You know him?”

Eve nodded. “Unfortunately, yes. In every sense of the word. I have seen him naked and trust me, the body matches the face. Utterly and unbelievably gorgeous.” A shiver skittered down her spine at the memory. There’d been a time when she’d had that body in her bed, lying on her sofa, standing in front of his refrigerator looking for something to eat at three in the morning.

“But … I don’t understand.”

Eve took Lily’s arm and led her over to the walk-in fridge, then pulled open the door. “Go ahead. I’m not going to spill my secrets unless we have complete privacy.” They stepped inside and Eve closed the door behind her.

Lily rubbed her bare arms. “If this is going to be a long story, I’m going to need a jacket.”

“Remember that night, after we got the good review in Food and Wine, and we drank those two bottles of Mendocino Monastery Reserve Cabernet? And I told you about that guy, the one right before I married Matt?”

“The ‘one last fling’ guy?” Lily asked. “That’s him?”

Eve nodded. “Charlie Templeton.”

“You dumped him for Matt?” Lily stared at her as if she’d just admitted to serving puppy fritters with kitten aioli to the customers. “Dweeby, whiny, needy Matt?”

“I didn’t know he was like that when I married him. He seemed—dependable. It was only after the wedding I realized he was looking for a mother, not a wife. And Charlie was everything a girl is supposed to be afraid of. After a month of nonstop sex, he told me he was going to be gone for six months. At the time, I needed a man who’d be there for more than a bi-annual sexfest.”

“Semi-annual,” Lily corrected. “And now he’s back.”

“Five years later. Five years and not a word. No phone call, no postcard. Now can you understand my decision?”

“Why do you think he came back?”

Eve had a niggling suspicion. In truth, she wasn’t proud of what she’d done. And it had come after another very expensive bottle of wine and an evening of feeling sorry for herself. She’d happened upon a Web site called SmoothOperators.com, a place where women could off-load all their dating horror stories. She’d been so fed up with men that night, she’d created a profile for every bad date she’d ever been on, full of all the tiny details describing the men who’d done her wrong. And Charlie Templeton had been at the top of the list. In many ways, she blamed him for her bad marriage and painful divorce.

Had he stayed, maybe just a few days more, even a week, she might have realized that marrying Matt was the wrong choice. She would have come to understand that passion was much more important than security.

“It could just be coincidence,” Eve murmured. “The last time he was here, I was just head chef. He doesn’t know I own the restaurant now.”

“Or maybe he does and he’s come to see you. You won’t know unless you go out there and talk to him.”

A knock sounded on the walk-in door. Lily grabbed the handle and opened the door. “We’re almost done,” she called.

Eve saw Sarah, their best waitress, standing outside and she stepped around Lily. “We are done,” she said. “What do you need?”

“There’s a gentleman at table seven who’d like to speak to the chef. I think he might know you.”

“See,” Lily said. “I told you he came here for a reason.” She grabbed Eve’s arm and steered her out the door. “Fluff up your hair, you still have hat head. And put on a fresh jacket. On second thought, don’t wear the jacket.”

Lily reached for the buttons and Eve slapped her hands away. “Have you been spending time with my mother? Because you’re beginning to sound exactly like her.”

She slipped out of her jacket and tossed it over a stool at the prep table, then ran her fingers through her short-cropped hair. For the first time since her divorce, she regretted not paying more attention to her make-up and wardrobe. Eve had always relied on her natural beauty to get by. So much for taking Charlie’s breath away.

Gathering her resolve, she pushed on the swinging door and stepped out into the dining room. The Garden Gate was a different restaurant during the daylight hours. Sheets of butcher paper replaced the linen tablecloths. A mish-mash of colorful ceramic stoneware stood in for the more elegant and refined china and crystal they used for the dinner crowd.

He looked up as she approached and her breath caught in her throat. She’d never forgotten those eyes, pale blue and penetrating, as if he could see right inside her soul. And that hair, thick and wavy and streaked by the sun. He was dressed casually, in a faded polo shirt and cargo pants.

Eve pasted a smile on her face. It wouldn’t do to seem rattled by his appearance. She’d treat him like any other customer. But try as she might, Eve couldn’t forget that this was a customer who had once made her moan with pleasure, who had taken her to places she’d never been sexually. She drew a shaky breath. “Hello, Charlie.”

He stood, dropping his napkin on the table. “Hi, Eve.” Before she could react, he stepped toward her and placed a kiss on her cheek, his fingers skimming down her bare arm. “It’s good to see you.”

Eve’s heart slammed her chest and she glanced down at the spot where his fingers had made contact. For a long moment, she couldn’t think of a single thing to say. Then she blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “Look at that. You’re out of water. I’ll go get you another glass.”

When she reached the safety of the kitchen, Eve headed right back to the walk-in fridge, ignoring the curious glances of the kitchen staff before slamming the door behind her. She sat down on a crate of potatoes and buried her face in her hands. After all this time, he still had the ability to make her pulse race and her head spin.

How many times had she thought of him over the past five years? As her marriage had deteriorated, he’d come to mind more and more often. She’d been left to wonder whether incredible sex twice a year might have been better than a husband who’d cheated on her with a series of college co-eds.

Her choice to marry Matt had been the biggest mistake of her life. In truth, she hoped that by accepting Matt’s proposal, Charlie might make a counteroffer. When he didn’t, she decided that Matt was a reasonable alternative. Though they didn’t share a wild, uncontrollable desire for each other, she and Matt shared the same goals—buying their own restaurant and turning Eve Keller into a household name.

When a knock sounded on the fridge door, Eve pushed to her feet. “I’m done,” she called. “Come on in.”

The door opened and to Eve’s astonishment, Charlie stepped inside, holding an empty glass. “I’m sorry, but I was getting really thirsty out there and you said you were bringing me water and I—” He closed the door and leaned back against it. Slowly, he took a deep breath, then let it out, the air clouding in front of his face. “You’re more beautiful than I remembered, Evie.”

Eve stiffened her spine. Evie. A tremor rocked her body and she rubbed her arms. She remembered how he’d whispered her name as he moved inside of her, his voice inviting her to join him. Come on, Evie. Come with me. Let go.

“What are you doing here? It’s been five years without a word. And now you show up and expect me to fall for that cheesy line?”

He glanced around and chuckled. “That’s right. You don’t serve cheese in this restaurant.”