A Tablespoon of Temptation (A Recipe for Love Novel Book 1) Read online

  Silence filled the inside of the car. The only sound was the thunk of her tires moving over uneven asphalt.

  “I hoped that you’d have my back like you did last time.”

  “I won’t tell them you bang the guests in their rooms if that’s what you mean, but I won’t lie to them if they ask.”

  “So, you won’t tell them about Margie?”

  She laughed. “You mean Margie, Laurie, Stella, and Angie?” She turned onto Freida’s street. “Nope, that’s not my business. Not my stories to tell, and you’re not mine to protect. I’ve got to go.”

  “Where are you?”

  “You’re no longer entitled to information about my private life.” She would have loved to tell him she was on a date, but she didn’t like to lie.

  “I’ll see you Monday,” he said.

  “Thanks for the warning.” She hung up and cussed at him the rest of the way. She didn’t normally swear, but Chris brought out the absolute worst in her. She let out expletives that could make a sailor blush.

  Now pushing the time, she climbed out of the car and raced up the sidewalk. With each step, she tried to forget that she’d been driven batshit crazy by two annoying men in as many days. Maybe Freida could tilt the scales for her.

  She stood on the welcome mat, took a deep breath, and replaced her frown with a smile. As she raised her hand to knock, the door opened.

  “You’re late.” Freida was a sight to see with her black hair and white sweep of bangs. She looked Danielle up and down like she was a stray. “And you’re a mess.” She stood aside for her to enter.

  She should have realized from the outside that the house would be over the top inside as well. She had rushed past hedges trimmed to look like animals and flowerbeds that had a June bloomed look in April.

  “Sorry, there was traffic.”

  Freida lifted a jet-black brow. “On a Sunday?”

  “Church services and garage sale seekers.” She stood on the marble flooring and visually followed the spiral staircase to rest her eyes on a big portrait of Freida and her husband taking up the entire wall of the landing above.

  “Peter Rosenberg painted that picture,” Freida said with pride.

  Danielle didn’t know who that was, but if Freida paid more than a nickel for that portrait, it was too much. “It’s lovely.” She hated to lie, but sometimes it was necessary. There was no way she’d tell Freida that the head of the fox on her fur stole appeared ready to bite her jugular. Her husband leaned so far away from her she feared he’d fall off the canvas.

  “Follow me. We have so much work to do and so little time. Every second that passes makes you less desirable.”

  She wanted to take offense, but the woman was a matchmaker with a sixty percent success rate. That was better than her one hundred percent failure rate. How could she argue?

  Freida led them into a living room decorated in white and gold. She pointed to the sofa, but Danielle was afraid to sit on the pristine white fabric. Instead, she took a seat on the gold silk footstool.

  “Doesn’t follow directions,” Freida said and jotted down something on a piece of paper laid out on the grand piano.

  “That’s not true.”

  “Argumentative.”

  Danielle opened her mouth to say something, and Freida made a zip motion across her lips.

  Danielle’s mouth snapped shut.

  “Stand up.”

  She did as Freida asked and waited for her to complain about her black slacks, her silver blouse, and her hair that needed a cut.

  “You have good posture.”

  That came as a surprise. “Thank you.”

  “But that’s about it.” Freida touched Danielle’s hair. “You need a cut, but the color is lovely. It’s like a high-end whiskey. And your eyes, they are interesting. Like a green meadow during a landslide.”

  She wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or a put-down. “Thank you?”

  “Since we can’t turn back the clock, we have to find other selling points. Do you have money saved?”

  “I’m comfortable.”

  Freida’s eyes lit up. “That’s wonderful. Are you six-figure or seven-figure comfortable?” She tapped her pen on the paper. “Eight?”

  The embarrassment tasted like dirt and lodged like a boulder in her throat. “I’m four-figure comfortable.” She would not mention that her savings were low four figures. It had only been a year since she finalized her divorce, and she’d spent the entire time paying down the debts Chris had accrued on her credit cards. It was her fault she let him transfer his debt under the guise of consolidating.

  “Destitute.” Freida scribbled on the paper. “What about assets? Do you have stocks or bonds?”

  That good posture commented on earlier appeared to sag when the weight of her shoulders rolled forward.

  “I have a house?”

  “In Aspen?”

  She shook her head. “Timberline.”

  Freida scribbled something else on the paper.

  “What did you write?” Danielle swiped the page from the piano. The last entry was “Hopeless.” She pulled out her phone.

  “Who are you calling?”

  Freida sat on the sofa. Her black skirt hugged her legs as she swept them to the side. If Danielle had to describe the woman, she’d say she was a cross between Cruella de Vil with her black and white hair, and Joan Collins with her attitude and fashion sense.

  “I’m calling your niece to tell her to bring over the cats.”

  Freida leaned forward and covered the phone. “Don’t fret. I’m not a quitter. I had a caliber of man in mind, but lowering our expectations could open the window to love.”

  “How far do we need to lower the bar?” Was she talking about going from dating a rich man to seeing a blue-collar worker? At that thought, a vision of James floated through her brain. Jeans that hugged strong thighs. A T-shirt that stretched across broad shoulders and tapered down to the washboard abs she knew were hiding beneath the cotton. She perked up. “I have no problem with a working man.”

  Freida laughed. “Oh honey, we’ll be lucky to find any man to take you on. You’re past prime birthing. You’re attractive in a girl-next-door way, but this is Aspen. Unless you’re willing to nip, tuck, and fill, we have to be realistic. A rich man? That’s like putting nothing on a hook and hoping to catch a marlin.”

  “So now I’m a worm?”

  Freida shook her head. “No sweetheart, you’re the hook.” She rose from her seat. “I have one option. He’s a nice man. He’s got a good job. I think he’d be happy with a project like you.”

  “Is he Jewish?”

  “Yes.”

  “And that won’t be a problem because I’m not?”

  Freida laughed. “You can convert, lots of people do. There’s Sammy Davis Junior, Isla Fisher, and Tom Arnold.”

  “Who is this guy?” She turned and twisted the fabric of her pants.

  “His name is Gene Horowitz.”

  Danielle nearly fell off the stool. “No way.” She popped up, grabbed her bag, and headed toward the door.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To the store. I’ll need litter and cat food. Thanks for everything Freida, but I fear you might be right. I am hopeless.”

  She’d had reached her car when her phone rang. This time she knew it was Trish.

  “You owe me,” Danielle said as she climbed inside. She took off so quickly she could hear the box in the back shift.

  “I heard. I’m sorry.”

  “You should be. This was worse than having a waxing. Your aunt stripped me of my confidence and self-esteem.”

  “She can be harsh, but she’s got a—”

  “I know, a sixty percent success ratio. She’s also got horrible taste in furniture and art.”

  Trish laughed. “You saw the Peter Rosenberg?”

  “Hard to miss. It’s like looking at a six-inch pimple on a two-inch nose. Impossible.”

  “What will you do no
w?”

  “I’m going to the store to buy a gallon of birthday cake ice cream, and then I’m heading home to watch episodes of Murder, She Wrote to see if there’s a way I can kill you and get away with it.”

  “But it isn’t your birthday.”

  Leave it to Trish to skate over the murder plot and go straight to the ice cream. She knew Danielle only ate birthday cake flavor on her special day. In her opinion, a gallon of ice cream was a good starting point to sweeten her sour mood.

  “I’m starting over, a rebirth if you will.”

  “That’s my girl, and while you’re there, pick up whatever you need to bake with because I told you I’d be your first victim.”

  “I don’t think they sell arsenic at Safeway.” She hung up and went home because there was already a gallon of chocolate peanut butter cup in the freezer.

  Once her car pulled to a stop in the drive, she got out and walked to the back. The books were still in the box, but one caught her attention. She hadn’t noticed it when she purchased the box and wondered if the vendor had added it after she paid. It was a tattered, well-worn book with a big heart on the cover. In bold black print was, Recipes for Love-Unlock Your Heart’s Desire. In smaller letters on the bottom were the words, For your eyes only.

  She opened the hatch and pulled it out. There was something intriguing about secrets.

  Danielle brushed past the cookbook on her counter to the coffee pot. Once she’d gotten home yesterday afternoon, she wasn’t in the mood to look at recipes for love, especially since she was a recipe for disaster.

  She poured a cup of coffee and added in her usual heavy-handed helping of sugar. She picked up the folder she’d spent all night assembling. It was a mini dossier of her department and their accomplishments. If she was one thing, she was prepared. She’d learned early on to have what her bosses wanted before they knew they wanted it. She hoped the new owners of the resort found value in her professionalism.

  If she left now, she’d arrive at least twenty minutes early which was basically her idea of being on time.

  It wasn’t that she agreed with the adage that the early bird got the worm. In her mind, the early bird kept her job, and that was her top priority.

  Her insides crawled with nerves as she climbed behind the steering wheel. Was Chris right? Would they fire them all and start fresh with a new team?

  Halfway to the meeting, she glanced down at the folder on her passenger seat. A horn blared, and when she looked up, a yellow lab was cowering in the center of her lane. She slammed on the breaks and attempted to steer clear of the dog, but with cars on both sides, there was nowhere to go. She held her breath and waited for the sound of impact as she screeched to a stop, but she heard nothing.

  After a quick once over to make sure she was in one piece, she jumped out to make sure the dog wasn’t injured, but when she rounded the SUV, the dog was gone.

  “Thank God,” she said out loud. It was a blessing that she hadn’t hit the dog. Outside of not being able to live with herself if she had, the whole ordeal would have made her late. She climbed back inside, took a deep breath and picked up her coffee to take a sip. Just as the cup touched her lips, a jarring crunch sent her SUV lurching forward and her coffee toppling down the front of her shirt. In her rearview mirror, she could see the flailing arms of the angry man who had hit her. “You’ve got to be kidding me?”

  Chapter 4

  James

  The two-way mirror once drove James crazy, but now it served a purpose. As the department heads filed into the conference room, he sat behind the mirror and took notes.

  First impressions were important. He figured an invitation to the cooperate offices meant business, and he expected people to be in uniform or dressed to impress.

  Sitting on the desk in front of him were the employee files with their pictures clipped to the front.

  The head of security walked in first. His name tag was chipped, and James could barely make out the name Paul Bradley.

  James wrote his first impressions.

  Uniform is too small. Buttons ready to burst.

  Big man–order for his size.

  Wrinkled and stained—sloppy.

  It didn’t matter because no one was staying in their current uniforms. Luxe had its own look and ready-to-break-free bellies weren’t in the brand. They’d custom make a shirt for Paul if necessary.

  Next was Willetta Frost. Housekeeping had good reviews, and she was being considered for advancement.

  Pressed uniform.

  Put together.

  The door opened and in walked Flynn McHale who apologized profusely for being a few minutes late. He said he liked to oversee all produce deliveries and today’s order got delayed.

  Clean uniform.

  Neat appearance.

  Flustered.

  Product quality conscious.

  James put a star on the corner of his employee file. Running at a deficit in food and beverage wasn’t unusual. Food was always a loss in resorts, and when this one went all-inclusive, keeping food costs down would be important, but keeping customers’ satisfaction up was key. Flynn McHale might be a candidate for general manager.

  He turned to the man arriving with Flynn. This guy had to be Chris Putnam and he delivered a good first impression.

  Khaki shorts.

  Polo shirt.

  Boat shoes.

  Hair neatly trimmed.

  Dressed appropriately for his outdoor recreation department.

  He glanced around the table once more and found that the department head for guest services was still missing. He was generally good at reading people, and Danielle didn’t seem like the type to be late.

  His sister Allie arrived wearing some kind of designer suit. It was a soft pink to put people at ease. She was good with people and never put them in a defensive position at the first meeting. She only brought the black suit out for serious situations, like firings and takeovers. She referred to it as her Gucci guillotine. Allie was a force of nature.

  “Good morning, everyone. Welcome to the Luxe family. This is the tenth property under the Luxe name. We apologize for not meeting you sooner. When the property became available, we had to move quickly. Our lawyer Michael Stratton brokered the deal while we tied up loose ends at our last location.” She pointed to the table where name tags sat in front of each chair. “Find your seat, and let’s get started. Future meetings will take place at our offices at the resort.”

  “You’re moving to the offices?” Willetta asked.

  “Yes, it makes sense to be on the property,” Allie answered.

  The door opened and Danielle nearly fell into the room looking flustered and disheveled. Pulled tightly to her chest like an armor breastplate was a folder. The kind that opened to show three brass tacks down the middle and a pocket to each side.

  “Way to impress,” Chris said. “Glad you could make it.” He glanced at the clock on the wall. “You’re only ten minutes late.”

  “I’m so sorry.” Her head shook back and forth. Tiny strands of brown hair escaped the tight bun at the nape of her neck. “I had a fender bender …” She let out a whoosh of air. “I apologize for being late.” She took the empty seat next to Chris. He whispered something to her, and she gave him a hard glare and turned away.

  James wrote down his first impressions.

  Hot

  After crossing out that word, he began again.

  Frazzled.

  Late.

  Nervous.

  Did she think she was losing her job? They never cleaned house on the first day. Everyone from vendors to employees deserved a chance to prove their worth.

  The Pines Resort was a mess when they made the deal. Buying the place was a huge risk given they’d be upside down for several years, but the forecast showed that once they converted it into a Luxe property, they would quickly make up the deficit. Anything with value was worth the investment, whether money, time, patience, or people.

  Allie looked t
oward the mirror as if she were saying “Are you getting all of this?”

  She cleared her throat. “As I was saying, welcome to the Luxe family. As a family, we are all on a first name basis. I’m Allie, your Chief Operations Officer and the person now in charge of Human Resources.” She pointed to the name tags on the table. “If you will be kind enough to grab your new badges and put them on, it will help me remember who you are.” She picked up Todd Lundgren’s name tag. “Engineering won’t be present because of a problem at the resort. Something about a water leak in the basement.”

  “That would be boiler number one,” Danielle said. “It’s been a problem for years.” She continued to hug the folder to her chest.

  James knew his sister. She was smiling, but she was a savvy businesswoman. She watched everything and was taking mental notes.

  The first to comply was Danielle. She picked her tag up and pinned it perfectly straight to her lapel without losing her shield. The other’s haphazardly put theirs on. All but Chris. He didn’t budge.

  Allie walked around the table and picked his up. “Hi Chris,” She placed the tag in his hand. “Put this on, so I don’t forget you.”

  “Oh darlin’, I’m unforgettable. You won’t need a nameplate to remember me.”

  Her heels clicked on the tile floor as she went back to the head of the table. “You’re right. I’ll make a note that you’re the one who can’t follow directions.”

  A knock sounded, the door opened, and Julian stepped inside carrying a travel container from Pikes Perk, and a box of pastries.

  “Did I miss anything?” He placed the items in the middle of the conference table and told everyone to help themselves. Food had a way of putting people at ease.

  “Just introductions,” Allie said.

  “I’m Julian. I’m the Chief Financial Officer.”

  Chris held up his name tag. “I’m Chris.” He opened the box and touched several pastries before he settled on the cherry danish.

  Paul was next, followed by Flynn, and then Willetta. Danielle passed.

  “Just coffee for me, please. I’ve eaten already.” She reached one hand out for a cup and filled it, then looked around the table as if searching for something. “Do you have sugar?”