PERFECT (3 page)

“I appreciate the
offer, but I sort of would like to make dinner on my own. Let the girls help.
Make it a family event. I was thinking of making something Elly made for them,
like her Flaming Maple Salmon. The girls asked for it several times—whenever
I’ve made them tuna sandwiches for dinner.”

“Whoa, I have one
friend who is getting over a fire loss this week and holding it together by a
mind thread. I don’t need another one.”

“Knock it off. I’m
not that incompetent in the kitchen. Who—”

Tom’s cell rang
and he snatched it off his belt. “Hold that thought,” he said, holding up an
index finger, and then spoke into the phone. “Hey. Where are you? Great. The
door’s open. I’m in the bar.”

The guy’s face
beamed as he laid the phone down on the polished wood. “I’m glad you stopped in
tonight, buddy. I want you to meet someone special. She’s going to be staying
with me for a week. Hopefully longer.”

Surprise cocked
his brow. He really didn’t feel in the mood to meet anyone, but Tom hadn’t
mentioned a woman before and his curiosity level shot toward the rafters twenty
feet above. “You have a woman?”

“A friend. You’re
going to love her.” Angleman’s eyes lit up as they lifted over his head and the
guy’s grin stretched from dimple to dimple. “Here she is. Hi, sweetheart. My
God, look at you.”

As his friend
circled the bar, Dylan swung the bar stool around, meeting the sparkling green
eyes of the woman entering the room. His stomach did a backflip. Never in his
wildest dreams would he have guessed quiet Tom, the burly giant who spent ten
hours every day slaving over the food he prepared for customers and another six
hours serving it, would have the time or the energy to find a woman as gorgeous
as the one that walked toward them.

“I almost didn’t
recognize you.” Tom hoisted her small frame into a bear hug and whirled her
around.

“I know.” She
laughed. “It’s been a long—”

Dylan slid off the
chair, admiring the women’s long, auburn waves. Her leather coat shifted up on
her hips to her trim waist as she laced her arms around Tom’s stump of a neck, offering
Dylan a nice view of her heart-shaped rear end encased in designer jeans. She
stood on tiptoe to peck Tom’s cheek, leaving a nice full mark of wine-colored
lipstick behind.

“I finally
convinced you to visit,” Tom cooed, smiling down at her.

“You’re the only
one I’d drive through hell freezing over to see.” She pinched the man’s cheek
with long fingers without a bit of nail polish. “Oh, it’s so good to see you.
I’ve missed you,” she purred in a southern accent that made Dylan’s male
hormones spike even higher.

Tom’s blue eyes
twinkled like old St. Nick pictured in Katy’s Christmas storybook.

Dylan wondered
when and how the pair had met. If he’d seen this girl in Black Moose Ridge
before, he surely would have noticed her.

“I’m glad you
listened to me,” Tom said, lifting her up against his barrel chest again. She
looked like an oversized rag doll in the man’s embrace. “It’s been way too
long.”

“I agree. A year
is way too long.” She struggled to touch her leather-clad toes to the plank
floor.

Okay, so their
relationship was long distance. That would explain why he’d never seen her
before. Still, Angleman never mentioned her. They’d been friends for over five
years, ever since Tom moved to the mountain, bought the oldest structure in the
small village and began work on The Lone Grist Mill restaurant.

“Ah, hum.” Dylan
coughed, tired of being the proverbial third wheel during the joyous reunion.

Tom’s grin wilted
only to a respectful level as the petite woman slid to the floor. “Sorry,
buddy. Darcy, this is my friend Dylan Kincaid. Dylan, Darcy Witherspoon.”

A name like that
sounded like a lot of very old money, and, again, he wondered where the two had
met and what they had in common. Angleman was a working stiff—a self-made man.

She straightened
her sweater under her jacket. Then she righted her leather coat over her full
breasts and the scarf draping her neck, before pulling off her leather gloves
and offering her right hand to him. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Kincaid.”

There was strength
behind the softness of her grip. “Dylan. Call me Dylan.”

She batted long
lashes at him and smiled, tilting her head ever so slightly, like she was shy.
Scarlet O’Hara had nothing over Darcy.

“All right,
Dylan.”

He could get use
to her saying his name real quick.

“And you do the same.
You may call me Darcy. Miss Witherspoon is my sister. And I’m not her by long
shot.”

Her hand was as
soft as Jillian’s and Katy’s and he wondered if she lived the life similar to
Scarlett’s, before the Civil War.

“So how do you
know this guy?” He poked his free thumb toward Tom.

“We went to Le
Culinary of America together.” Angleman dropped an arm over her shoulders,
anchoring her against him and caused her hand to yank from Dylan’s grasp. Tom
smiled down at her. “Darcy graduated top of our class. She’s an awesome chef.”

Her cheeks,
already pink from the temperatures outside, brighten a bit. “You almost toppled
me with your desserts.”

She wrapped an arm
around Angleman’s backside—at least as far as she could. Tom wasn’t fat, but he
wasn’t small and she looked like a dwarf standing next to the mountain-sized
man.

“Ah, but I
didn’t.” Tom pecked her head. “And we’ve been best friends ever since.”

It was clear Tom
was marking his territory. “Ah, that’s the connection. I didn’t think a guy
like him could attract a woman like you.”

Her brow arched
up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Angleman squeezed
her. “He’s just stating what’s obvious. I’m a hulk and look at you.” He twirled
her. “You’re hot.”

“You’re just
trying to make me feel better.” She laughed and hugged Tom. Her eyes closed
momently and Dylan noted their long length resting against her tawny
peach-colored skin.

Her sweet scent
made him want to step closer. Remembering she was Tom’s girlfriend, he took a
step back and inhaled a deep breath to clear his head and cool his libido.

“If you haven’t
figured it out from her accent, Darcy is from the south,” Tom said.

“Charleston to be
exact,” she added, clearly stating her pride.

Tom slid his hand
down her arm. “So how long did it take you to drive up here?”

She moved away
from Angleman’s side which shot happiness through Dylan.

“Twenty drive
hours. Coming around Philly was a nightmare. I heard on the radio later they
had both a football and a hockey game on the same night. I think both events
ended at the same time.” Her curls reached her waist as she lifted her chin to
look up at Tom. “I stopped over in D.C. and spent the night with Tony and
Mark.” She glanced at Dylan, including him in the conversation. “Tony and Mark
were in our class too. They now work under one of the greatest chefs in the
White House.” Then she turned back to Tom. “They say hi, by the way.”

“I still haven’t
made it down to see their place. I’ve just been too busy, working on this
place.”

“Their place is
nice. Small.” She shrugged. “But we’re talking D.C. They’re happy.”

“So, the two of
you meet in culinary school.” Dylan said. “Are you in the restaurant business?”

“I ah... I own … I
mean I did own…”

Sadness filled her
mumble and the joy she apparently felt at seeing her friend again faded from
her expression. Her situation dawned on him. “You’re the one with the fire?”

Golden ambers
flared in her eyes and they slanted toward Tom. “You’ve been talking about my
situation like an old woman hanging wash?”

Angleman took a
step back. “Nah. I just mentioned I had a friend who had a fire this week.
That’s it. He must have guessed it was you.” The big guy’s gaze flew to Dylan
like a man searching for a lifeline. “Right? I didn’t say who.”

Imagine that. A
woman who didn’t like gossip. Darcy clearly was a little peeved that Tom
might’ve blathered about her loss. Her backbone was as straight as a yardstick.

Dylan jumped to
Tom’s defense. “No. He didn’t.”

Larus Roth, one of
Tom’s assistant chefs, chose that moment to push through the kitchen door
located at the end of the bar.

“Hey, Tom, we have
a problem. Hi, Dylan.” The hand he lifted stopped in mid-wave as his gaze
landed on Darcy. Larus smoothed his white chef’s smock over a flat stomach, and
straightened to a full height of not too tall. He took on a Jack Sparrow
swagger. “Hi, Ms. Ah…”

Dylan’s fingers
curled. The guy had to stand on tiptoes to look through the porthole in the
kitchen door, but he was built like a brute.

“What’s wrong?”
Tom stepped in front of Darcy and Larus pulled up short, having rounded the
bar.

“I just checked
the walk-in fridge, and I can only find three pork loins in marinade. That’s
not enough for a special. We’ll run out before seven.”

“You’ve got to be
kidding me.” Tom’s face tightened into an angry mask. “I told Butch to put six
loins in the marinade. Did you check all the containers?”

“Yeah,” Larus
said.

“Double check.
I’ll be right with you.”

“I’m Larus, by the
way,” he said, after rounding the bar again and waving at Darcy. “I hope we see
you again.” He winked and pushed through the kitchen door, whistling.

Angleman blew out
his aggravation before facing Darcy. “Always a problem. Look, sweetheart,
really, I didn’t tell Dylan about your misfortune.”

They both glanced
at him and Dylan hoisted a smile.

“Okay, I believe
you,” she said, arching her neck back to look up at Tom.

A smile softened
the creases in his friend’s forehead. “Good. Now, excuse me for a moment. I’ll
be right back and then I’ll show you the way to my house. You must be tired.”

“No problem. I
know how it is. Take your time. I’ll have a cup of coffee.” Darcy pointed to
the pot still on the burner. “And take a look around.”

“Dylan, I know you
have to get home, so I’ll catch you later,” Angleman said while back-peddling
toward the kitchen entrance. “We’ll talk later about your problem. You’re
delivering my maple butter tomorrow, right? And those pine greens?”

“Yeah, I’ll be
here by ten. Thanks for the drink.”

“No problem,
buddy.” Tom disappeared around the corner.

“Maple butter?”
Darcy looked at him quizzically.

“Come on. You’ve
heard of it.”

“Sure, but you.”

“Yeah, I own a
maple farm. I make syrup and with a local dairy farmer butter.”

“I thought you
worked at the ski lodge.” She pointed to his parka, lying over the barstool.
The ski slope’s black moose insignia showed plainly against the yellow and
orange nylon.

“I do. There’s not
much happening with the maples during the winter, so I keep busy with the job
at the ski lodge, among other things.”

“Other things?”

“You know.
Hobbies.”

He liked the way
she combed her long fingers through her hair and flicked it over her shoulder.
In fact, there wasn’t anything about her that he didn’t like, which was very
bad. She was Tom’s woman. He’d lay odds her lips were sweeter than maple candy.

He cleared the
want from his throat before saying, “I’m sorry about your restaurant.”

“Thanks. It was a
freak accident. I’d intended to remodel next year. It’s just going to happen
sooner than later.”

Darcy’s light tone
didn’t match Tom’s depiction of someone on the verge of a meltdown or her reaction
to him guessing her situation. If it wasn’t for the way her lips had tightened
and her gaze lifting to somewhere over his shoulder, he would’ve bought the
line.

“That’s the
spirit.” He liked her smile better than the frown she now wore and wanted to
see it again. “Tom didn’t tell me it was you. He had mentioned a friend had a
fire when I said I wanted to cook Christmas dinner instead of eating out.
That’s all.”

“That sounds like
you’re not very good in the kitchen.”

Her smile was
back.

“Maybe not as
skilled as the both of you, but I don’t burn water.”

In that moment, a
bolt of attraction came out of nowhere, arched and sizzled between them. Dylan
knew Darcy had felt it too. Her gaze had dropped to his lips and her nostrils
had flared just enough to be noticed. His mouth went dry. This was beyond bad.

She stuffed her
gloves into her coat pocket. “Well, I think I’ll have that coffee. Can I refill
your mug?”

Passing by him, he
drew in her floral scent. “Ah, no.” He had to get out of there. The more time he
spent with her, the more he wanted to spend time with her. “I’ve got to get
home to the girls.”

“Oh.” Her reach to
the shelf over the back counter stopped, her hand poised over a coffee mug. A
second passed before she picked up the cup and poured coffee. “Okay.”

Had he seen, via
the mirror over the bar, disappointment in her eyes before she lowered them?

Darcy turned,
lifting her chin and wearing the smile that made his pulse race. “It was nice
meeting you, Dylan. I hope I’ll see you again before I go back to Charleston.”

She kept her
fingers wrapped around the mug.

“Black Moose isn’t
all that big, so no doubt we’ll run into each other.”

Not if he could
help it. Every moment he spent staring into her almond-shaped eyes, his
willpower weakened. Thank goodness a solid oak bar stood as a barrier between
them now.

“Right. It is
small.” She sipped her coffee, still holding his gaze.

“Yes. Small.”
Dylan fought the force pulling him toward her and grabbed his parka. “I’ve got
to go. Goodnight.” He nodded, turned, yanked on his coat and stalked out of the
restaurant, feeling lower than he had when he arrived.