As a chef and restauranteur, Alex Willan had enjoyed
so much success she allowed herself to be talked into
opening a second restaurant. It’s a decision she’s
come to regret. Calamity after calamity have slowed
the opening and driven her to the edge of bankruptcy.
But things go from bad to worse when a competitor lures
away the chef at her original restaurant leaving her
torn between the choice to keep the original restaurant
running, or getting the second restaurant going. With
so much happening, Alex simply doesn’t have time
for her sister Sam’s attempts at matchmaking,
so when Sam calls with yet another man she “just
has to meet” Alex tells her that if the man doesn’t
cook, don’t even bother. Imagine her surprise
when Sam says he’s a chef from Europe. He appears
to be the answer to her prayers.
Cale Argeneau was finding himself somewhat world weary
and bored so when his Aunt Marguerite suggested a visit
to Canada to spend some time with his cousins, he thought
“why not?” What he didn’t realize
was that the intrepid Marguerite Argeneau thought she
might have a match for him. Once he finds out, he’s
less than excited. He’s waited centuries for a
life mate and finds it hard to believe this Alex woman
his Aunt keeps going on about could be the one. It was
the shock of his life when he met Alex and found she
was indeed a possible life mate. But that wasn’t
nearly as shocking as the realization that the only
way he was going to get anywhere near the woman was
if he claimed to be a world class chef. Cale couldn’t
even boil water, but he was about to take a crash course
in cooking. He was also going to have to find out who
was behind the calamities that were plaguing this new
restaurant endeavor before someone got hurt. He’d
do that and more to be near the woman who had reawakened
his appetites, because it wasn’t just food he
now found himself hungry for, but also Alex herself
and the life he could have with her.
was just raising his hand to knock at the door when
it swung open. A tall fellow with short dark hair
and a phone pressed to his ear peered out at him.
“Yes,” Cale answered, knowing the guards
at the front gate had called up to the house warning
of his arrival.
“Come on in.” The fellow stepped back to
make way, pushing a button to end his call before offering
a hand to Cale. “Justin Bricker. Most people call
Cale accepted the hand, shaking it politely as he stomped
his feet on the welcome mat a couple of times to remove
the worst of the snow on his boots. He then stepped
inside. “I was told I should speak to Garrett
“Yeah, I know. The boys at the gate called the
house and said as much, but Mortimer’s down at
the garage with Sam.” Bricker shut the door and
then turned to face him, waving the phone vaguely. “I
was just calling down there to tell him you were here,
but there’s no answer. Hopefully that means they’re
on their way to the house.”
“Hopefully?” Cale removed his brown leather
“Yeah, well, they may have been getting busy in
one of the cells,” Bricker explained wryly as
he took the coat and quickly hung it in a closet beside
the door. “They’ve only been life mates
for eight or nine months and are still pretty into each
other.” He closed the closet door, swung back
to Cale, and then headed up the hall toward the back
of the house. “Come on. I’ll get you a bag
of blood while we wait.”
Cale followed, recalling what his uncle Lucian had said
about these men. Mortimer and Bricker used to be partners,
enforcers hunting rogues vampires, but now they ran
the enforcer house together. Bricker was the younger
man and backed up Mortimer, who was now in charge of
all the rest of the enforcers.
“One bag or two?” Bricker asked, leading
him into a large, cupboard-lined kitchen with an island
in the middle.
“One is fine,” Cale murmured.
The younger immortal immediately opened a refrigerator
to reveal a large amount of bagged blood stacked up
alongside various mortal foodstuffs. The sight was a
bit startling. Cale hadn’t eaten mortal food in
more than a millennium and only ever had blood in his
own refrigerator. The thought crossed his mind to wonder
if it was really hygienic to have raw meat and vegetables
so close to the blood.
“O positive all right?” Bricker asked, sorting
through the bags in the fridge.
“Fine.” Hygienic or not, he was hungry.
“Here you go.”
Cale accepted the bag Bricker held out with a murmured
thanks, waited the few seconds it took for his canines
to descend, and then quickly popped the clear bag of
crimson liquid to his fangs.
“Grab a seat,” Bricker urged, using his
foot to hook one of the wooden barstools tucked under
the island and dragging it out for himself. He slapped
a bag of blood to his own teeth as he sat on the stool.
Cale pulled a second stool out, but had barely settled
on the high seat when the soft shush of sliding glass
doors opening and closing sounded from the next room.
He followed Bricker’s glance expectantly to the
open door across from them. It led into what was obviously
a dining room. The end of a dark oak table was visible,
as well as an end chair, but the door and whoever had
entered were out of sight. However, their voices reached
the two of them easily, and Cale found himself unintentionally
eavesdropping on what he soon realized was a private
“Are you sure you’re ready, love?”
a man asked in solemn tones.
“Yes, of course, I’m sure,” a woman
answered, although she didn’t sound all that certain
in Cale’s opinion. He wondered who she was and
what she was claiming to be ready for.
Apparently the male speaker had noted the uncertainty
as well. “Are you, Sam? It’s been eight
months and you—”
“I know,” the woman interrupted. “And
I’m sorry I’ve dragged my feet about it
as I have. It wasn’t because I don’t love
you, Mortimer. I do, but—”
“But you didn’t want to leave your sisters,”
the man said with apparent understanding.
Cale felt his eyebrows rise as he recognized the names.
Mortimer was who he was here to see, but so was Sam.
She apparently had a sister named Alex, and Aunt Marguerite
had a “feeling” this Alex might be the woman
he’d waited for his whole life. Cale wasn’t
holding out much hope that Marguerite was right. As
old as he was, he’d pretty much given up hope
on ever finding a life mate. He’d pretty much
resigned himself to being eternally single. But he also
hadn’t wanted to offend the woman, so had agreed
to come meet this Alex.
Curious now to see the couple who were speaking, Cale
shifted slightly on his stool, leaning to the side,
but it was no good. They must have stopped at the door
they’d just entered. They also obviously thought
they were having a private conversation, and he glanced
to Bricker, expecting him to make some noise to alert
them to the fact they weren’t alone, but the younger
immortal almost seemed to be holding his breath as he
waited for what they might say next.
Cale found himself frowning around the bag in his mouth
and was about to scrape his stool back to warn the couple,
but the woman’s next words made him pause.
“It wasn’t because of Jo and Alex.”
Cale stilled curiously, hoping to hear more about this
“That was just an excuse, Mortimer. One I even
had myself half convinced of,” the woman admitted
on an apologetic sigh. “But Jo said something
to me after she met Nicholas that made me realize it
wasn’t the real reason.”
“What was that?” Mortimer asked quietly.
“She pointed out that, after you turn me, I would
still have ten years to try to find them life mates.
She said I was just afraid, and I think—no, I
know now she was right.”
“Afraid of what, Sam?” Mortimer asked with
quiet concern. “The pain of turning?”
“No … … Although that’s scary
on its own,” she admitted on a wry laugh. Her
voice was more serious when she added, “But really
I was afraid that you would wake up one day and realize
… … well, that I’m just me,”
she finished helplessly.
“I don’t understand. I know who you are,
“I know, but—This is silly, but, while I’m
smart, and hardworking, and basically nice, I’m
not …” … Sam’s voice was slightly
embarrassed as she said, “Well, I’m just
not some sexy, gorgeous vamp type of gal who can hold
the attention of a guy like you for eternity.”
“Honey, you’re beautiful. I—”
“I look like Olive Oyle, Mortimer.” The
words burst into the air on a breath of exasperation,
as if she thought that should be obvious.
Cale tore the now-empty bag from his mouth and glanced
to Bricker with confusion, his voice a bare whisper
as he asked, “Olive Oyle?”
Bricker removed his own bag and explained in a hushed
tone, “Popeye’s girlfriend.” When
Cale continued to stare at him blankly, he rolled his
eyes. “She’s a cartoon character; dark hair,
huge eyes, and spindly as a stick figure. Sam is—”
“Honey, I have eyes. I know you look like Olive
Bricker stopped his explanation on a low curse and squeezed
his eyes closed briefly. He then turned his head back
toward the door, muttering with disgust, “You
old guys are so bloody smooth. Honestly.”
Cale would have liked to argue the point, but really,
even he—who hadn’t bothered with women in
what seemed like forever—knew Mortimer’s
words had been the wrong thing to say. Obviously, Mortimer
realized it too because he began to babble, “I
mean, you’re beautiful to me. I love your smile
and the way your eyes twinkle when you’re amused
or teasing and—”
“But I still look like Olive Oyle,” Sam
said in tones that made it obvious she wasn’t
impressed with the man’s efforts to save the situation.
“Not really.” There was a distinct lack
of conviction in Mortimer’s voice, but it was
stronger when he added, “Look, honey, the point
is, I don’t see you through rose-colored glasses.
My love isn’t based on some shallow fantasy image
of you, and I’m not going to suddenly wake up
one day and notice you have knobby knees.”
“Knobby knees?” she cried.
“I—No,” he assured her quickly, sounding
a bit panicked now. “No, of course they aren’t
knobby. I just mean I know exactly how you look. I do
see you, and you’re what I want, not some silly
fantasy like Jessica Rabbit was.”
“Jessica Rabbit?” Sam echoed with disbelief.
“You had fantasies about Jessica Rabbit? A cartoon
Cale’s eyebrows rose at that. He’d been
alive a long time and had fantasized about a lot of
things, but never a cartoon rabbit.
“Well not as a rabbit,” Mortimer muttered,
sounding a bit chagrined. “And not as a cartoon
character. I wasn’t really—I mean, I didn’t
want to hook up with her or anything. She was just a
representation of the type of woman I thought I might
end up with.”
“Voluptuous and sexy,” Sam suggested.
“Exactly,” Mortimer said, sounding relieved.
Cale didn’t need Bricker’s groan to tell
him that was possibly the stupidest thing the man could
say. Dark hair, huge eyes, and a stick figure didn’t
suggest voluptuous and sexy to him.
“Mortimer,” Sam said, her voice hard, “I’m
neither voluptuous nor sexy. If that’s what you
want, why spend eternity with me?”
“Honey, you are sexy. You’re smart, and
brains are really sexy as hell.”
“Right,” Sam snapped, obviously not buying
“Gad!” Bricker barked.
When the younger immortal leapt off his stool and hurried
toward the dining-room door, Cale followed. He entered
the room on the other man’s heels, his eyes moving
with interest over the couple peering toward them with
Bricker’s description of dark hair, big eyes,
and spindly as a stick figure fit Sam, Cale decided.
It was probably also the most unattractive way to put
it. The woman did have dark hair, but only in that it
wasn’t blond. There were tints of light brown
and even red in her hair that made for a lush, almost
auburn. As for her eyes, Cale had always found large
eyes an attractive feature, but they did tend to dominate
this woman’s thin face. He suspected they would
be lovely if she had a little more meat on her to round
her cheeks out a bit. Actually, the woman could have
done with a little more rounding everywhere. Her body
was on the point of being emaciated. It made him wonder
if she didn’t have some ailment of the thyroid
He shifted his gaze to Garrett Mortimer then, but barely
got an impression of fair hair and a muscular body before
Bricker paused before the couple, and snapped, “For
cripes sake, you two! What are you doing? Sam, you love
Mortimer, and he loves you, and that’s what he’s
trying to tell you, he’s just too stupid to get
it out right. But he loves and wants you just the way
you are.” He shook his head with disgust. “You
should be secure in that knowledge by now for God’s
sake. The two of you have been going at it like a pair
of bunnies for months, with no sign of letting up.”
“Bricker!” Sam squawked, flushing bright
pink as she glanced from the enforcer to Cale with a
mortification he suspected wouldn’t be nearly
as strong had he, a stranger, not been present.
“Oh, right,” Bricker muttered, glancing
back toward him with a sigh that suggested he’d
briefly forgotten Cale’s presence. “Sam,
Mortimer, this is Cale Valens. Cale, this is Garrett
Mortimer and Sam Willan.”
“Cale,” Mortimer said slowly, offering a
hand, and then recognition lit his face. “Martine
“Yes.” Cale shook the offered hand politely
and then glanced again to Sam. Much to his surprise,
the embarrassment that had been coloring her face a
moment ago appeared to have slipped away, replaced with
an interest that was sharp and focused.
“Are you single, Mr. Valens?” Sam asked
as she moved forward to shake his hand as well.
Cale raised an eyebrow at the blunt question, but glanced
to Bricker when he released a short, sharp laugh.
“I see your agreeing to turn hasn’t dampened
your determination to see Alex settled with an immortal,
Sam,” Bricker commented with amusement, then warned
Cale, “Look out. She’ll be holding a dinner
party and introducing the two of you by week’s
“Well, why not?” Sam sounded a touch defensive.
“You never know. They might suit each other.”
“Honey,” Mortimer said on a sigh, “the
chances of Alex’s being a possible life mate for
an immortal are pretty slim. It’s amazing that
Jo turned out to be Nicholas’s life mate. It’s
very rare to find three mortal sisters who suit—”
“Chances shmances,” Sam interrupted firmly.
“Besides, there’s no harm in introducing
them and seeing if they wouldn’t suit. Alex would
make a good immortal. She’s smart, successful,
and already works nights. I’ll just call her and
see if she can come over for dinner.” Sam started
to turn away, but Mortimer caught her arm.
“Why don’t we find out why Cale is here
and see if he even has time to stay for dinner first?”
he suggested quietly.
Sam hesitated, but then glanced to Cale. “Can
you stay for dinner?”
When he nodded, she grinned and then whirled away again.
“Thank you for humoring her,” Mortimer said
on a sigh, as they watched her cross the room.
Cale shrugged. “I am not humoring her so much
“Marguerite?” Sam stopped abruptly in the
kitchen doorway and spun around, her already large eyes
appearing even larger in her startled face.
Cale’s eyebrows lifted. The woman was almost vibrating
with an emotion he couldn’t quite identify. He
was about to read her mind when Mortimer captured his
attention by echoing her exclamation in a deeper, though
no less startled, voice.
Cale glanced to the man, and then to Bricker, both of
whom were now peering at him with intense interest.
Grimacing, he admitted, “Marguerite seems to have
a bee in her bonnet about me meeting Sam’s sister,
“She does?” Sam breathed, taking several
steps toward them.
Cale found himself shifting uncomfortably as he admitted,
“Yes. She seems to think we might suit each other
… … I expect she’s wrong, but it can’t
hurt to humor her and meet your sister to see one way
or the other.”
“I’ll have Alex come over at once!”
Sam spun away again, this time making it out of the
room before anyone spoke.
A snort of amusement brought Cale’s glance to
Bricker as the younger immortal asked, “You’re
“About what?” Cale asked, scowling. He didn’t
like being laughed at, and the younger man was definitely
laughing. He was also eyeing him with a combination
of pity and, strangely, what appeared to be envy.
“About not expecting Marguerite to be right,”
Bricker explained, and then slapped him on the back.
“Buddy, if Marguerite is having one of her ‘feelings’
that you and Alex will suit, you’re as good as
mated. It’s what Marguerite does. She finds life
mates for anyone and everyone she can. She’s hooked
up every single couple who have found each other the
last few years.”
“Every Argeneau couple,” Mortimer corrected
firmly. “She was not responsible for Sam and me.”
“Yeah, well I wouldn’t be too sure about
that,” Bricker said dryly. “She probably
suggested Lucian send us to that job in cottage country
in the hopes that one of us would suit one of the sisters.”
Mortimer rolled his eyes at the suggestion. “She
couldn’t have known about Sam and her sisters.
I don’t think she’s even been to Decker’s
“Oh, he didn’t tell you?” Bricker
asked with amusement.
“Tell me what?” Mortimer asked, suddenly
“Marguerite helped him find the place. Since he
was always so busy on the job, she vetted the available
properties and suggested the one next to Sam and her
sisters was the nicest.”
“Christ,” Mortimer muttered.
Bricker laughed, but Cale simply peered from one man
to the other curiously. “Is she really that good
at finding mates for immortals?”
“Oh yeah,” Bricker assured him. “So,
if Marguerite thinks Alex is the one for you, it’s
in the bag. It looks like your bachelor days are done,
my friend. Bet you can’t wait.”
Cale found himself frowning at the suggestion, and said
a bit stiffly, “Not all of us are lonely and in
need of a life mate. Some of us manage to live relatively
happy, busy lives without one.”
“Yeah right,” Bricker said with disbelief.
Cale scowled, but didn’t argue the point further.
Why bother? It wasn’t really true anyway.
“You have to be kidding me.” Alex Willan
stared at the man standing on the other side of her
desk. Peter Cunningham, or Pierre as he preferred to
be called, was her head cook. He was also short, bearded,
and had beady little eyes. She’d always thought
he resembled a weasel, but never so much as she did
at that moment. “You can’t quit just like
that. The new restaurant opens in two weeks.”
“Yes I know.” He gave her a sad little moue.
“But really Alexandra, he is offering a king’s
ransom for me to—”
“Of course he is. He’s trying to ruin me,”
Peter shrugged. “Well, if you were to beat their
Alex’s eyes narrowed. She couldn’t help
noticing that he’d said “beat” rather
than “match” or even “come close.”
The little creep really was a weasel with no loyalty
at all … … but she needed him.
“How much?” she asked sharply, and barely
managed to keep from hyperventilating at the amount
he murmured. Dear God that was three times what she
was paying him and twice what she could afford …
… which he knew, of course.
It was a ridiculous sum. No chef earned that, and he
wasn’t worth it. Peter was good, but not that
good. It didn’t make any sense that Jacques Tournier,
the owner of Chez Joie, would offer him that much. But
then Alex could suddenly see what the plan was. Jacques
was luring the man away in a deliberate attempt to leave
her high and dry. He’d keep him on for two or
three weeks, just long enough to cause scads of trouble
for her, then he’d fire him under some pretext
Alex opened her mouth, prepared to warn Pierre, but
the smug expression on his face stopped her. Peter had
always been an egotistical bastard. It was bad enough
when he was only the sous-chef, but in the short time
since she’d promoted him to head chef, his ego
had grown to ten times its previous bloated state. No,
she thought with a sigh, he wouldn’t believe her.
He’d think it just sour grapes.
“I know you can’t afford it,” Peter
said pityingly. Then with something less than sympathy,
he added, “Just admit it so I can stop wasting
my time and get out of here.”
Alex’s mouth tightened. “Well, if you knew,
why even bother suggesting it?”
“I didn’t want you to think I was totally
without loyalty,” he admitted with a shrug. “Were
you to beat their offer, I would have stayed.”
“Thanks,” she said dryly
“De rien,” he said, and turned toward the
Alex almost let him walk out, but her conscience got
the better of her. Whether he’d believe her or
not, she had to at least try to warn him that he was
setting himself up for a fall. Once Jacques fired him—and
she didn’t doubt for a minute he would—Peter
would be marked. The entire industry would know that
he’d left her for them, and then lost that job.
Even if people didn’t suspect the truth of what
happened and label him a putrid little weasel, they
would think he’d been fired for something.
Alex had barely begun to speak her thoughts, however,
before Peter was shaking his head. Still, she rushed
on with it, warning him as her conscience dictated.
The moment she fell silent, he sneered at her with derision.
“I knew you would be upset, Alexandra, but making
up such a ridiculous story to get me to stay is just
sad. The truth is, I have been selling myself cheap
for some time now. I’ve built up a reputation
as an amazing chef these last several weeks while cooking
in your stead—”
“Two weeks,” Alex corrected impatiently.
“It’s only been two weeks since I promoted
you to head chef. And you’re cooking my recipes,
not coming up with brilliant ones of your own. Surely
you can see how ridiculous it is that someone would
pay you that kind of money for—”
“No, I do not see it as ridiculous. I am brilliant.
Jacques sees my potential and that I deserve to be paid
my value. But you obviously don’t. You have been
trying to keep me under. Now I will get paid what I
deserve and enjoy some of the profits produced by my
skills.” Mouth tightening, he added, “And
you’re not going to trick me into staying here
with such stupid stories.”
With a little sniff of disgust, Peter turned on his
heel and sailed out of her office with his nose up and
a self-righteous air that made her want to gag.
Alex closed her eyes. At the moment, she wanted nothing
more than to yell a string of obscenities after the
man, and suspected she would enjoy his fall when it
came. Unfortunately, her own fall would come first.
Cursing, she pulled her Rolodex toward her and began
to rifle through the numbers. Perhaps one of her old
friends from culinary school could help for a night
or two. Christ, she was ruined if she didn’t find
someone and quickly.
An hour later, Alex reached the W’s in her Rolodex
with no prospects when the phone rang. Irritated with
the interruption when she was having a crisis, Alex
snapped it up. She barked “hello,” the fingers
of her free hand still flipping through the cards one
after the other in quick succession.
“I have someone I want you to meet.”
Alex frowned at the strange greeting, slow to recognize
her sister’s voice. Once she did, a deep sigh
slid from her lips, and she shook her head wearily.
She really didn’t need this right now. She was
heartily sick of the parade of men Sam had been presenting
her with over the last eight months.
It had been bad enough when she and their younger sister,
Jo, had both been single and available, but now that
Jo had Nicholas, Sam was focusing all of her attention
on finding Alex a man. She supposed it wouldn’t
be so bad if even one of the men Sam had insisted on
introducing her to had shown some mild interest in her,
but after barely more than a moment, and sometimes as
little as a few seconds, every single one had simply
ignored her, or in some cases, even walked away.
It was giving her a complex. She’d even started
dieting, something she’d sworn she’d never
do, and exercising, a pastime she detested, as well
as trying different makeup and fashion choices in an
effort to boost her now-flagging ego.
This really was the last thing she needed, but Alex
knew Sam’s heart was in the right place and forced
herself to hang on to her patience and even managed
to keep her tone to only mildly exasperated.
“Sam, honey, my head chef just quit, and I have
one hour to replace him before the dinner set start
to arrive. I don’t have time for your matchmaking
“Oh, but, Alex, I’m pretty sure this is
the one,” she protested.
“Right, well, maybe he is, but if he isn’t
a world-class chef, I’m not interested,”
Alex said grimly. “I’m hanging up now.”
Alex paused with the phone halfway back to its cradle
and pulled it back to her ear. “What? He is what?”
“A chef?” Sam said, but it sounded like
a question rather than an announcement. It was enough
to make Alex narrow her eyes.
“For real?” she asked suspiciously.
“Yes.” Sam sounded more certain this time.
“Where did he last work?” she asked cautiously.
“I—I’m not sure,” Sam hedged.
“He’s from Europe.”
“Europe?” Alex asked, her interest growing.
They had some fine culinary schools in Europe. She’d
attended one of them.
“Yes,” Sam assured her. “Actually,
that’s why I was sure he would be the one. He’s
into cooking and fine cuisine like you.”
Alex drummed her fingers thoughtfully on the desk. It
seemed like just too much good fortune that her sister
wanted to introduce her to a chef the very day she was
in desperate need of one. On the other hand, she’d
suffered enough bad luck the last few months that a
bit of good luck was surely in order. Finally, she asked,
“What’s his name?”
“I’ve never heard of him,” Alex murmured,
and then realized how stupid it was to say that. She
didn’t know every single chef in France. In fact,
she only knew a few from her days in culinary school
… … and the names of the famous ones of
“Look, he’s a chef, and you need one. What
can it hurt to meet him?” Sam asked. “I
swear you won’t be sorry. I really think this
will work out. Marguerite is never wrong. You have to
“Marguerite?” Alex asked with confusion,
recognizing the name. She was the aunt of one of Mortimer’s
band mates, Decker Argeneau. Alex had never met her,
but Sam mentioned her a lot. However, she had no idea
what the woman had to do with any of this.
“Just meet him,” Sam pleaded.
Alex sighed, her fingers tapping a rapid tattoo. She
could sense that Sam was lying about something in her
determination to get her to meet the man, and really,
she didn’t have time to waste at the moment. On
the other hand, Sam hadn’t hesitated to say he
could cook and had even said it was why she’d
thought they might hit it off, so Alex suspected that
part of it was at least true. At least she hoped it
was. The fact was, she was desperate. And, frankly,
beggars couldn’t be choosers. If the man could
cook even half decently, she was definitely interested
in him though not the way Sam was obviously hoping she
“Send him over,” she barked, and then slammed
the phone back in its cradle before she could change
Cale was telling Bricker and Mortimer about the wedding
he’d attended in New York for several of his family
members and their life mates when Sam came hurrying
back into the room. “It’s all set,”
she announced excitedly. “You have to go to her
restaurant right away.”
Cale frowned. “You said you would have her come
“Yes, well, there was a change of plans. Alex
has a small crisis at the restaurant and can’t
leave,” Sam announced, catching his arm and urging
him toward the door to the kitchen. “Actually
that reminds me. Can you cook?”
Cale stopped, forcing her to a halt, and announced stiffly,
“I don’t eat.”
“I didn’t ask you if you eat,” she
pointed out. “Can you cook?”
“Why would I cook if I don’t eat?”
he asked dryly.
“Not doing one doesn’t preclude your doing
the other,” Sam said impatiently, and then clucked
with irritation and tried to urge him to continue forward
as she pointed out, “Male designers don’t
wear women’s clothing, but they design it.”
“How do you know they don’t wear it?”
Bricker asked lightly, drawing Cale’s attention
to the fact that he and Mortimer had followed and now
stood behind them.
chuckled at the words, but Sam didn’t seem to
see the humor. Grinding her teeth together, she tugged
at Cale‘s arm again. “Come on. You need
to get to the restaurant before she changes her mind
and takes off for the new place or something.”
Cale tugged his arm free of her hold. “I do
not cook food and have no desire to visit a place
filled with the stench of it. You’ll just have
to arrange a meeting for a different day. I have no
desire to go to her place of business.”