The Bachelor's Baby Surprise

A lot of money.

An obscene amount of money.

The Bennington could use that kind of income since the runaway bride curse had put a serious dent in their cash flow. They were bouncing back, but not fast enough.

Ryan frowned and smoothed down his tie. “Three stars? Do you really think that’s doable?”

They didn’t even know if Bennington 8 was on Carlo Bocci’s review list. The list was secret. Ryan suspected he booked his reservations under an assumed name and showed up when least expected, as most restaurant reviewers did.

Zander shook his head. “No, not the way we stand at the moment. Which is why you and I will be in interviews all afternoon today and tomorrow. As long as it takes.”

“You want to hire a new chef? I’m not sure that’s a wise idea.” The chef they had was one of the best in the city. They’d never get anyone else of his caliber on such short notice, much less someone better.

“Agreed. Patrick is as good as we’re going to get. As far as food is concerned, we’re golden. But that’s only half the battle, isn’t it?”

Ryan glanced back down at the newspaper and his gaze zeroed in on three italicized words—Food & Wine magazine.

“Wine,” Ryan said, nodding slowly. “You want to hire a sommelier.”

“A wine director—someone with impeccable credentials. Without a good somm, we haven’t got a chance. Have we got room in the budget to hire someone?”

“I’ll make room.” He’d be staring at spreadsheets all day, trying to make it work. But that was fine. Numbers were Ryan’s specialty. There were no gray areas with numerical figures, only black and white.

Just the way Ryan liked it.

Zander stood, folded the copy of the Times and tucked it under his arm. “Great. I’ve already put out some feelers. I’ll start lining up interviews. Clear your calendar.”

“Done.” Ryan rounded the desk and reclaimed his seat.

Zander lingered in the doorway. “Let’s hope we find someone immediately. This could be tough, but surely there’s an out-of-work somm somewhere in the city who’s also charismatic enough to impress Bocci.”

Ryan’s thoughts flitted back to six weeks ago. To a little wine bar in the Village. To Evangeline Holly, her butcher knife and the way her lips had tasted of warm grapes, fresh from the vine.

He pushed the memory away.

Zander was asking the impossible, but Ryan was grateful for the challenge. He needed to get his focus back. He needed to forget about the numerous women who wanted to marry him. He especially needed to forget about the one who didn’t.

He shot Zander a look of grim determination. “If the right person is out there, trust me, we’ll find ’em.”

* * *

Evangeline was getting desperate.

If she was being honest with herself—truly, brutally honest—she’d passed the point of desperation a few days ago.

Six weeks was a long time to go without a paycheck, especially when she was already contributing more than she could afford to her grandfather’s care.

Maybe she’d been impulsive.

So she and Jeremy had broken up. So he’d been sleeping with his sous chef. Did that really mean Evangeline couldn’t stay on at the restaurant?

Of course that’s what it means. Are you insane? Don’t even think about crawling back.

She lifted her chin and marched through the revolving doors of the Bennington Hotel.

She had to get this job. If she didn’t, crawling back to Jeremy was exactly what she’d be forced to do by day’s end.

“Can I help you?” The woman behind the reception desk gazed impassively at her.

“Yes, I’m here for an interview. I have an appointment at four o’clock.” Evangeline forced a smile and tightened her grip on her Everlane tote bag—a leftover luxury from her previous life.

It was startling how much things could change in a month and a half. She’d thought she’d had everything figured out. She’d been happy.

At least she’d thought she had been happy. Now she wasn’t so sure.

You were happy. You were perfectly content with Jeremy. Stop thinking about that night.

She swallowed. The one-night stand was still messing with her head, six weeks after the fact. Which was all the proof she needed that one-night stands were not her thing. Lesson learned.

In the days since she’d woken up to the sight of those unfamiliar cuff links on her bedside table and the outrageously handsome man in her bed, she’d questioned nearly everything about her past relationship and life in general.

How was it possible to feel such an intense connection with someone she’d only just met? She’d gone to bed with the man, and she hadn’t even known his last name.

She knew it now, though. Wilde. Ryan Wilde. It was kind of hard not to notice his name and face on every newsstand in Manhattan. Gotham magazine had named him New York’s hottest bachelor or something ridiculous like that.

Of course. No wonder she’d been so charmed by him. There hadn’t actually been anything special about their night together. He was just really, really good at sex. He probably couldn’t even help it. It was an occupational hazard of being the city’s biggest playboy.

Out of all the men in Manhattan, she’d fallen into bed with him. She was so mortified that she hadn’t even bought the magazine with his face on the cover. She wanted to forget that night had ever happened.

Unfortunately, she couldn’t. It was too damned memorable.

She blushed every time she thought about it, and she’d spent far too long trying to figure out why she’d never felt so passionate in bed with Jeremy.

So maybe she hadn’t been as happy with him as she’d thought. Clearly she’d been wrong about things. A lot of things.

But she’d at least been on the verge of having her dream job handed to her on a silver platter. And now...

Now here she was, applying for a position she was in no way qualified for. Her only hope was that the Bennington Hotel was every bit as desperate as she was.

“Have a seat, Miss Holly. The general manager will be with you in just a moment.” The woman behind the reception desk motioned toward one of the lobby’s plush velvet sofas, situated beneath a glittering crystal chandelier.

“Thank you.” Evangeline flashed another smile and headed across the marble floor.

She could do this. The hotel was, in fact, desperate. At least that’s what Colin, one of the study partners in her wine group, had told her when he called to tell her about the job opening. They needed a sommelier, and they needed one fast.

Surely all the best somms in Manhattan were already employed. Evangeline hoped so. If she had to compete for this job against even one sommelier with actual credentials, she was toast.

“Hello,” she said to the three other women sitting in the waiting area. Her competition, she assumed.