The Daddy Gamble Read online

  Kate gulped in a breath of fresh air then pushed to her feet, arching her back slightly. “I’ll get them.”

  “No. You deserve a break. Point me in the right direction, Mom. I can handle this.”

  “Absolutely not,” Kate countered, blocking his return to the kitchen. “You need to get back to the party. Don’t you have toasts to make or something? Besides, you’re a guest. You should be eating.”

  “Children, stop bickering. Somebody rescue my parfaits.”

  They looked at each other. “She’s feeling better.”

  “The aspirin must have helped.”

  Jo’s low growl and threatened attempt to stand sent them both hurrying indoors. “The walk-in is over here. I think there’s only one tray. The party planner wanted a vegan option for people who don’t eat cake.”

  Rob followed her, his senses on high alert. He’d never in his life experienced such a powerful, exciting rush of emotions as he had working in Kate’s kitchen. Even waiting for a verdict was low-key compared to the orchestrated flurry of food preparation. The combined energy of her assistants and various helpers along with the servers coming and going and his mother shouting orders should have spelled chaos, but he’d never felt that things were out of control. Because of Kate, who was both commander-in-chief of her kitchen and a sexy, powerful woman.

  Damn, he wanted to kiss her.

  And they were alone for the first time all night.

  He opened the freezer door for her. The chill, so inviting after the heat of the kitchen, enticed him to step inside even though this put him in close proximity to Kate. Encircled by chrome shelves, he pivoted to take it all in.

  “I’m still not completely restocked,” she said, apparently noticing his interest. “We lost a lot of inventory because of the E. coli fiasco. You don’t make that up overnight.” Her tone was resigned. “Oh, there’s the tray your mom made.”

  She rose up on her toes to reach for the shallow pan, which was resting on an upper shelf just beyond Rob. On impulse, he intercepted her hand and drew it between them. She tensed, but allowed him to turn it palm-up. His thumb skimmed over calloused ridges that made her skin feel different from any other woman he’d dated. Hers were not pretty fingers with long, sculpted nails.

  He felt an odd pang deep in his chest. He didn’t know why or what it meant.

  Kate yanked her hand away and hid it behind her back. “What are you doing?”

  “Something I shouldn’t,” he admitted before he took a step closer.

  Her chin rose and her eyes narrowed—a warning, if ever he’d seen one. But he had to do what he’d wanted to all night. And while Kate might deny it later, Rob knew she felt the sizzle between them, too.

  “Rob. This isn’t—”

  He pressed his lips to hers, stopping her protest. Not the most chivalrous thing to do, but when she melted against him a heartbeat later, he stopped thinking. His right hand moved behind her back to pull her closer. His left brushed against her neck, expecting to find the mass of curls that fascinated him, but her hair was braided and pinned—unreachable.

  She made a little moan—that Rob realized a second later was the sound of regret. “No. Stop. Bad idea,” she said, pushing him away.

  Rob stepped back and took in a deep breath of icy air. The sharpness didn’t jibe with the heat that still surged through ninety percent of his body. But as his rational mind kicked in, he admitted to himself that she was right. This was madness.

  “Good call. My mother will be hopping in here on one foot if we don’t show up with her parfaits.”He aimed for a normalcy he didn’t feel--and was pretty sure he’d missed the mark.

  He turned and picked up the tray. “Can you get the door for me?”

  “Of course.” Her voice was husky, the sound so sexy he almost changed direction. Almost. Fortunately, sanity was slowly returning, and with it, all the reasons why he needed to keep his distance.

  Once outside, she directed him to place the tray on a counter in the kitchen. “You’d better take off that apron and rejoin the party.” Her tone brisk and businesslike. “Don’t you have to make the best-man toast?”

  Her reminder hit him like a glass of ice water across the face. What kind of son am I? My mom is hurt, Dad’s wedding reception is only half over and I’m playing kissy-face in the freezer.

  He yanked on the tie at his waist, which only served to tighten the knot. “Damn,” he said, frantically picking at the strings.

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Kate muttered.

  She brushed his hands aside and took over. Her nimble fingers worked quickly, but not fast enough.

  “Hmm, what’s going on?”

  Kate let out a low groan. “What does it look like?”

  Rob turned his chin to see over his shoulder. Liz and Alex Parlier were standing a few feet away with matching smirks on their faces. He quickly looked down to see if Kate had succeeded in setting him free. Not even close. In fact, she was actually leaning over, her face just inches from his groin.

  “Umm…I…I’m dyslexic. I’ve never been able to tie anything right,” he said, hoping to distract them.

  “Oh, hell,” Kate said sharply. “This is going to take all night. Liz, hand me that knife on the counter.”

  Before he could protest, the largest butcher knife he’d ever seen was resting against his belly—sharp side out, thank God. Kate looked him in the eye—and Rob could have sworn he saw her grin—before she made a slight flick of her wrist. The apron strings fell away.

  “Coffee, people,” she shouted, motioning toward a group gathered by the back door, where he’d left his mother. “Break’s over. We aren’t done yet.”

  Rob pulled off the apron that was hanging loosely from his neck. He handed it to Liz as he walked past.

  “You’re a brave man,” she said, with a wink.

  “You’re right. I have a toast to make.”

  Two hours later, after supervising the cutting of the cake, Kate leaned against the back wall of the dining room and watched the man who had kissed her in the cooler step up to the microphone. A four-piece band was set up to entertain the party until the wee hours of the morning, but first, the best man had to make a toast.

  “Dad…Haley…may your life together be blessed with good health, happy memories and the harmony of love, and may the road you travel together be filled with joy.”

  Short. Simple. Elegant.

  And for no reason that made sense, tears raced to her eyes.

  She blinked them away and quickly lifted her glass. That damn kiss. She chugged her champagne. That and the wedding. The combination had stirred up too many emotions. She’d been down this road before. A bride. Filled with hope and wonder and fear. Wed to a man who, at face value, was all any woman could ever ask for. Tall, handsome, charming. Romani.

  She and Ian had tied the knot at a tiny wedding chapel that went out of business about a month later. Then, with their attendants, Grace and Ian’s friend and mentor from Reno, they’d joined a huge gathering of friends and family for a block party in the cul-de-sac in front of her parents’ home. She’d danced till her feet hurt, then the limo her father had hired drove Kate and her very drunk husband home—to the little house they’d rented.

  She was the first of her sisters to marry.

  For love, of course.

  But for another reason, too.

  “Mom, I’m pregnant. Ian wants us to get married. I love him. He’s fun and ambitious, but sometimes he seems so autocratic. We butt heads over the silliest things. What should I do?” Kate had asked Yetta once she’d finally admitted to herself that the flu she’d been experiencing wasn’t the flu.

  Yetta had deliberated on the question for nearly two days. Finally, she’d told Kate, “You need to marry Ian.”

  Any reservations Kate might have had about committing to the smooth-talking Gypsy who’d entered her life so suddenly were assuaged by the conviction she heard in her mother’s firm, deliberate tone. Everyone came to Yetta
for advice. Only a fool would ignore the word of a Romani fortune-teller, right?

  Kate took another gulp of champagne. The bubbles burned going down her throat.

  Tempting as it was to blame her mother for what had followed, Kate was a realist. No one had forced her to say “I do” in front of the Elvis-impersonator justice of the peace. She could have listened to the little voice inside her head that said, “You don’t need a man to help you raise this child. Not if he’s the wrong man.”

  But she hadn’t trusted her instincts. And she’d paid dearly. As had her family and her daughter.

  Now, her instincts were harping again. The voice in her head said, “Run.” From Rob? Or Ian? Both, she decided. There would be no repeat of that kiss. No matter how wonderful it felt.

  “Kate.”

  Rob had spotted her standing alone at the back of the room when he’d made his toast. She was sipping from a champagne flute. He’d never seen her drink anything but cola. Was she celebrating? She certainly had a right to. The reception had been an unqualified success, but he had one more thing to do before he could call it a night.

  “Here’s the woman of the hour,” he told the three reporters—two men and a woman—he’d asked to follow him. “Gentlemen. Ms. Chamberlain. It’s my privilege to introduce Katherine Parlier-Grant. She and her sister, Grace, own Romantique.”

  “Hi,” the senior of the two men said. “Nice to meet you. Thanks for all the samples you sent out to us. Delicious.”

  “Yeah. What were those rolled-up thingies?” the heavy-set man asked. “I’d like to get my wife to make them. Where do I get the recipe?”

  “Do you mean the dolmas? They’re stuffed grape leaves. I add my own twist. I’m so glad you liked them.”

  “Kate and her staff put in hours designing a personalized menu for the bride and groom,” Rob said. “And I just happen to have copies of it for you.”

  Kate appeared surprised but her smile didn’t change. Is she mad at him about the kiss in the freezer? He didn’t blame her. It was a stupid impulse. He planned to make sure it didn’t happen again. Once this party was over, there was really no reason for them to see each other.

  “I understand this restaurant was closed recently because of an E. coli scare. What’s that about?” one of the journalists asked.

  Kate’s shoulders stiffened.

  “The unsubstantiated charge came from a man who is looking at serious jail time,” Rob said without giving her a chance to answer. “A thorough investigation failed to turn up any trace of contaminants. Isn’t it a shame how the innocent wind up paying for one man’s malicious accusations? Thank God Kate stood up and fought for the truth.”

  The reporters asked a few more questions before they wandered off to sample his mother’s fabulous cake.

  Rob let out the breath he’d been holding, then turned to Kate, who appeared slightly shell-shocked. “Sorry for jumping in that way. I was afraid that question might come up and I didn’t get a chance to warn you. I know you’re completely capable of handling reporters, but I figured there was a reason you normally put this kind of thing in Grace’s hands.”

  She set her empty champagne flute on a table then looked at him. “You’re right. I’m happiest behind the grill, not being grilled by reporters. And I appreciate everything you did for me…for Romantique, but Rob…” She frowned and took a breath.

  Rob had a feeling he knew what she was going to say—that the kiss they shared was a mistake and they shouldn’t see each other again. And even though he agreed with her in theory, he wasn’t ready to hear the words.

  “Oh, look, Dad and Haley are getting ready to smash cake in each other’s faces. Don’t want to miss that. I’ll call you later. Maybe we can settle up the final bill over a drink.”

  She didn’t argue. How could she? He’d tied their future meeting to money. A trick he’d learned years ago. People were usually willing to talk if you offered a strong incentive.

  Chapter 6

  “Ethically, I can’t discuss your daughter’s case with you, Yetta,” Rob said as gently as possible. A week and a half had passed since the wedding and he’d only seen Kate once—not for that drink he’d suggested. When he’d called to set up the date, she’d explained that his PR efforts on behalf of Romantique had been such an unqualified success she was too busy to spare a minute.

  “Grace will fax you the final bill,” she’d told him.

  Not what he’d hoped to hear, but then she’d added, “You’re our hero, Rob. Any time you’re hungry, you know you’re welcome here. On the house.”

  He didn’t want food. He wanted…he wasn’t sure what he wanted, but Kate was an increasingly familiar face—and sexual fantasy—in his dreams.

  When Yetta had called the night before and asked him to stop by her house on his way to work, he’d been happy to comply—on the off-chance he’d get to see Kate. Plus, he had a gift for Maya.

  Gift? Or bribe to try to get on her good side?

  He pushed the question away. If his overture failed, he’d blame Eric, one of the lawyers in his office.

  They’d had dinner together the night before as part of Rob’s attempt to get to know each member of his team a bit better. Eric told him the complicated saga of divorcing wife number one to marry wife number two after he’d handled her divorce. She’d brought two children—a boy and a girl—to the union, and they’d since had one more of their own.

  Responsibility for the three youngsters had fallen entirely on Eric’s shoulders after his wife took off with another man, and when Rob first arrived in Las Vegas, Eric had been in the habit of bringing the children to work with him. As a result, his job performance had suffered.

  “If you want to date a single mother, you start by courting the child,” Eric had counseled after Rob had accidentally mentioned Maya. He’d quickly tried to disabuse his colleague of the notion that he had designs on Kate, but the idea of making friends with Maya had stuck. Which explained the present in his pocket.

  “I’ve had the most disturbing dreams this past week,” Yetta said, interrupting his thoughts. “I’m very worried about my daughter and my granddaughter.”

  “I can appreciate that, but Kate was my client, and anything we discussed is privileged. Since she’s working with someone else now, I don’t really know what’s going on in her custody battle. Why don’t you ask her?”

  “I did. She said everything is fine. But Katherine is a lot like her father. Plays her cards close to the chest, as they say.”

  Rob took a drink of butterscotch-flavored coffee and looked out the window to his right. He could see the house next door, which belonged to Rob’s former client Claude Parlier, Yetta’s brother-in-law. Claude, Rob knew, was now living with his eldest son and had rented the home to Jurek Sarna. Jurek, who was Yetta’s shirttail cousin, was also the birth father of Grace’s fiancé. Rob spotted Jurek standing in front of the house with a hose. According to Jo, Jurek was recovering from a bout of cancer.

  “How’s Nick’s dad doing?”

  Yetta, who was sitting across from him at the round table, took a sip from her cup then said, “Much better. He’s planning on visiting Grace and Nikolai in Detroit as soon as he’s up to it.”

  “Mom told me the story about Nick meeting his dad after all those years. Must have been pretty emotional.”

  “Yes. The possibility of establishing a relationship with his son has really lifted his spirits. Jurek may have signed away his rights to raise Nikolai, but he never stopped being Nikolai’s father. Not deep inside.”

  Rob nodded as though he understood, but he didn’t. His father had lived in the same house with Rob and his mother until Rob was seventeen, but Adam had never been overly involved in Rob’s activities. He’d provided for his family, but his life revolved around his classes, his romantic liaisons, his writing and golf.

  “Are you telling me this because you think Maya’s father feels the same way?”

  Yetta smiled. “No. I’m not sure why Ian
appears so determined to reestablish a relationship with his daughter. At one time, I was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, but he proved unworthy. Unlike you.”

  Rob blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

  Yetta chuckled warmly. “You have been nothing but a boon to this family.”

  “Well, that’s nice to know. I’m a lawyer, I don’t hear that a lot.”

  “You breathed life into Katherine’s restaurant.”

  “No. Not me. Kate did all the work. I…was mostly in the way.”

  Yetta looked at him shrewdly. “You’re quite modest for a young man. But you can’t deny what you did for Mary Ann.” Mary Ann Parlier was another of Rob’s clients who had been caught in the same net as Charles Harmon. She was married to Claude’s youngest son, Gregor. “Claude was at the hearing. He said your eloquence alone got the poor girl into one of the best psychological facilities in the area instead of going straight to jail.”

  “Mary Ann needed help. The judge saw that. And Grace’s letter went a long way on Mary Ann’s behalf. I just did my job.” He pushed his cup away. “Not to change the subject, but is Liz around? I wanted to talk to her about my mom. She can’t seem to shake this cough. The doctor who X-rayed her foot wanted to run tests, but Mom refused. Maybe some herbal tea would help.”

  His mother’s cough was only one of the problems he’d had to deal with this past week. Two people in his office had the flu—he hoped. If they’d called in sick just to avoid hearing their performance reviews, he would soon be even more shorthanded than he was now. Plus, he’d offered to oversee the shipment of his father’s wedding presents. Who knew there’d be a zillion?

  “Elizabeth and Katherine are out back by the pool. They’re trying to talk Maya into taking swimming lessons.”

  “Maya’s going on five and she doesn’t know how to swim?”

  “Oh, she thinks she does. She gets around with the floaty things on her arms, but she won’t get her face wet. For a smart child, she can be downright muleheaded over certain things. And swimming is one of them.”