Ring of Truth (12 page)

“It's pure heaven to me!” she assured him, laughing. “I'm excited about the other things you want me to do, and I don't want Jeremy to think I'm trying to replace him, but I just love that commercial kitchen of yours, and the vegetable garden right outside, to say nothing of the wonderful outdoor oven you've built. It's just that—” She paused, gathering her thoughts. “It's just that it's the perfect
combination
of everything I've dreamed I wanted in my life.”

Ren and Kerry locked glances and once again since meeting this man, their surroundings seemed to blur around the edges and all she could manage to do was gaze across the table as currents of unexpected elation filled her chest.

Just then, the waiter arrived with steaming plates of perfectly cooked
al dente
pasta coated with a rich lamb Ragu sauce for Ren, and another that was laden with freshly steamed mussels in a garlic-laced broth for Kerry.

The moment of intimacy was broken, but thoughts of Ren's nearness and the emotion that appeared to have passed between them lingered as she studiously focused on twirling her fork into the long threads of linguine placed before her.

Later, in the half hour it took to drive from Sausalito to the ranch, Ren outlined his strategy for the next business quarter. Before Kerry knew it, his car was turning left, past the ranch gate and down the hard-packed dirt road. Prego and Scusi bounded down the path, tails wagging wildly, as Ren collected her luggage from the trunk and led her up a gentle hill, past the large greenhouse situated twenty yards beyond the kitchen.

They approached a whitewashed, batten-board bungalow perched on the low rise, its two front windows anchored by dark green wooden flower boxes planted with squat holly bushes. Their bright red berries reminded Kerry that Christmas was a mere two weeks away. Could she sneak back to New York for two or three days and surprise Angelica, she wondered, as she noticed that lights glowed from the inside of the cottage, warm and welcoming.

“Here we are,” Ren announced, as he put a key in the lower portion of a forest green double Dutch door and pushed it open. Kerry heard the pride in his voice as he pointed out the stone fireplace, updated kitchenette, single bedroom, and a bathroom sporting a claw-and-ball tub.

“My grandmother used to come out here to paint in this little cottage.” He gestured toward the windows. “She said it has the kind of daylight that inspires creativity... so I thought it might be just the place for a writer. José spent all day getting it ready, and I got the tech guy out to install a router so you can have Wi-Fi up here.”

“Oh... that's fantastic!” Kerry replied, clapping her hands.

She followed him further into the living room where she noted the stacked logs awaiting a match to light a cozy fire. A small, round table for two took up one corner, and a hand-woven rug graced the hearth.

“What a little jewel box of a place!” she exclaimed. “And that's the perfect spot for my laptop computer,” she said excitedly, pointing to the little table. “I can crank out eight-hundred words at a shot within view of gorgeous olive groves climbing up the hill!”

“So, it's not too small?”

“Oh, no...” she said on a long breath, turning in a circle. “It's perfect! This is a dream cottage for someone like me.” She turned toward Ren and added gratefully, “I can't quite believe I get to live here!” As she spoke, Ren's steady gaze made her pulse speed up in dizzying fashion. “Thank you so much, Ren. I feel as if I'm in some dream...”

For a long moment, they simply stared at each other. Kerry felt in that instant that there was a strange force field drawing them inexorably closer to one another.

Finally Ren said, “I'd better go see how Jeremy is doing.” He turned away and strode toward the Dutch door whose top section was open, offering a glimpse of the greenhouse below. “He supervised José and Sara's putting together a farm-to-table dinner tonight that we served to a small group of local restaurateurs and I want to hear how he thinks it went.”

He paused at the door and although the distance between them had widened, Kerry continued to sense the same magnetic pull as before. Somehow, it seemed the most natural thing in the world when he asked, “Want to come with me?”

Kerry nodded as a little ripple of happiness skittered down her spine.

When Ren pushed open the screen door to the commercial kitchen, Jeremy was sprawled on the leather couch. José stood at the sink, rinsing the last of the dishes and putting them in the heat sterilizer, while Sara was sitting at the table with a large glass of cabernet at her side.

“Hi, all. How'd it go tonight?” Ren asked.

Jeremy looked up and greeted them wearily, “Hey there... and welcome, Kerry. We sure could have used
you
tonight. It's going to be so great having you here.”

Sara was staring sullenly into her glass.

“Oh? What happened?” Ren inquired.

Jeremy darted a glance at Sara and shrugged.

“I'm obviously not operating on all cylinders right now, and it just felt as if our timing was off. José was great following my instructions on making most of the food, but...” He paused and addressed Kerry. “You probably know what I'm talking about. It was one of those nights when we just weren't in the zone, you know what I mean?”

Before Kerry could respond, Sara spoke up with an unpleasant edge to her voice.

“You mean
I
wasn't in the
zone
,” she mimicked. “Well, what do you expect, Jeremy? I had to do the desserts
and
make the salad
and
serve and clear—which is usually José's job!” She shot a sharp look in Kerry's direction. “Of course, you probably think that everything will magically be peachy keen, now that
you've
ridden to the rescue.”

“Kerry's work the day Jeremy got sick speaks for itself,” Ren said, his exasperation evident, “and you could probably learn something if you'd drop the attitude and just pay attention.”

“Oh, really?
I'm
the problem? Just wait a while,” Sara predicted darkly. “I googled the words ‘Kerry Hannigan, chef.'” Her eyes narrowing, she pointed her index finger toward Kerry but addressed her employer. “The only paid cooking job this fraud's ever had that came up in the search results was at a sleazy pub in New York that her parents owned prior to her getting her high-and-mighty degree from the CIA.” She affected an innocent shrug. “I don't get it... why is she here, Ren, unless you've got something else going on you'd like me to break to my parents who still think you're in mourning over their
other
daughter.”

Ren's expression was a study in neutrality, although there was no mistaking the anger in his tone.

“Sara,” he said, “I hate to
sound
like one of your parents, but you'd better just say goodnight. Then, I'd like to see you in the office at nine o'clock, sharp,
capisce
?”

 Adding to the acute discomfort of everyone in the room, Sara stonily remained sitting where she was. Kerry wanted nothing more than to grab her suitcases out of the cottage on the hill and head straight back to San Francisco.

What in the world had she gotten herself into?

Uncomfortable silence continued to poison the air. At length, it was Kerry, herself, who ended it.

“Well, on that happy note, I think I'll leave you all.” She addressed the exhausted-looking chef. “I've been hired here to help on the business side, but call on me, Jeremy, whenever you need a hand. I am more than happy to offer it, including tomorrow night's dinner for the UC Davis Olive Oil folks.” She turned to face Sara. “I can understand how my being hired has upset you, but I am not the enemy, and you're only hurting yourself by behaving like this.”

And before anyone in the kitchen could say another word, Kerry was out the door and sprinting toward her little bungalow, its two windows glowing a warm welcome in the absolute stillness of the surrounding hills.

***

By the time Kerry reached her new front step, she heard the kitchen door down the hill open and slam shut and two angry, but indistinguishable voices floated on the evening air. She turned around in time to see Ren and Sara gesticulating at each other and walking swiftly along the lower path in the direction of the ranch office.

Ren had probably reached his limit and Kerry wondered what he would—or could—do to resolve the situation any sooner than scheduled.  She could only pray that eventually things would settle down and she could begin what she hoped was a completely new chapter in a wonderful lifestyle that had somehow fallen into her lap.

She turned her back on the drama unfolding in Ren's office and entered her new living quarters. Within minutes, she had unzipped her suitcase and hung her clothes in the bedroom closet. Her next task was to crank out two more blog assignments, which she did over the next hour and a half, despite her thoughts occasionally wandering down the hill. She'd brushed her teeth and was about to get ready for bed when she heard a knock on the door. Ren, himself, stood on the cement front step with a grim expression, his hands in his jeans pockets.

“That was bad,” he said without preamble. “I told her after you left that she has two weeks to find herself another place to live. Then I called her parents in her presence and asked them to alert Sara's shrink and make arrangements to house their daughter as soon as they can. I've had it.”

“But what about poor Jeremy? José's been great, but—”

“Plan B,” Ren cut in. “Like you said, you'll be Jeremy's backup, if that's okay with you, and the marketing side of things will definitely have to wait, because I fully understand that your first priority is pumping out those blogs and there won't be time—”

“As of today,” she interrupted him, “my first priority is
all
of it.” She was buoyed by the fact that Ren hadn't hesitated to make such a tough decision. “And we wouldn't be able to make progress with
any
of the things you want to do around here unless you ordered Sara Lang to go her merry way, as you just did.” She reached out and briefly touched his arm. “I realize that there are probably many layers to all of this that I can't possibly know about, but I truly appreciate what you just did. Keep the faith, Ren,” she added, echoing the Claddagh's earlier message. “We'll figure all this out.”

 “Well, all I can say to that is, thank God I made that delivery to Amphora Nueva in Berkeley last Friday.” Without warning, he reached across the threshold and took her into his arms, pulling her close. “Otherwise,” he whispered against her ear, “I might never have met you, and then where would I be?”

Kerry marveled at how natural it felt to be enveloped in Ren's embrace and she leaned into his torso, luxuriating in the mere feel of her cheek resting against his broad chest. At length, she pulled away and tilted her head to be able to look at him.

“If we
hadn't
met last week, you'd be in a lot less complicated situation than you're in right now,” she chided. “But since we can't turn back the clock, how about you step into my parlor and we close the door so that every ranch hand on the place doesn't have such a grandstand view?”

Ren didn't break his hold of her, but simply moved the two of them a few feet past the front door and pushed it closed with his foot. His hands then framed her face, his fingers threading through her hair, sending cascading warmth up and down her neck.

“I have wanted to kiss you from that first day I watched you close your eyes and run your tongue over that cube of French bread soaked in my olive oil.”

“Good food is a sensual experience, don't you think,” she whispered, “just like—”

“Oh... yes...” he murmured, stopping their exchange as he settled his mouth on hers.

His lips were soft, then insistent, then demanding, and Kerry suddenly wondered if she'd crossed some desert landscape in the past week to find a cool, comforting oasis where she could drink her fill. His arousal pressed against her midsection, signaling that the magnetic pull she was certain they'd both been sensing since the day they met had finally culminated in electrifying sensations coursing through every cell in her body.

When, at length, they allowed an inch of space between them, Kerry inhaled a shaky breath.

“This is pretty insane, don't you think? I haven't even slept one night on your ranch and look at us!”

“It's crazy good,” he said, his voice ragged. “I've never felt this... this
need
to be so close... wanting another person to be part of my life... being with someone who makes me feel as if I
have
a life...”

“I feel it too,” she replied, barely above a whisper, “but really, Ren, it hasn't even been a week since I found out about Charlie and—”

“Who
cares
about them?” He seized her by her two shoulders and looked as if he was almost angry.

“I don't care about them, either,” she insisted, “but I care about what's happening to
us.
How can we know this is real? Talk about crazy!” she added with a rueful smile. “We need to slow down. We're supposed to be boss and employee, remember—”

“We're partners! I felt it that first day when Jeremy got sick and you—”

It was Kerry's turn to cup Ren's face between her hands.

“I felt it that day, too,” she acknowledged, and stood on her tiptoes to kiss him briefly on the lips. “But we've only worked together
one
day. Let's take this partner business... and everything, really... in steps, or you'll scare me to death.”

“Well, we can't have that...” he mumbled, pulling her toward him again and nibbling her ear. “Okay then... so... since I'm still the boss, I say—let's go in
there
,” he declared, nodding his head in the direction of the bedroom.