He didn’t want her here.
Shivering, she hugged Luna closer, warming herself on soft fur and unlimited doggy affection.
She was a burden, cramping his style, ruining his carefree life.
Maybe if she could prove to him she could ski the way he did, he’d be pleased to have her around. Maybe then, he’d think she was cool.
Maybe then, everything would stop hurting.
Kissing Luna on the head, she slid off the window seat. She dug her scrapbooks out from under the mattress, pushed the photograph of her baby sister inside her favorite, then picked up her pen and wrote Jess O’Neil on the cover in curly writing.
KAYLA HAD EXPECTED something in keeping with the rustic setting. A place a family could gather after a day of skiing and fun in the snow to exchange stories of daring exploits and slopes conquered. She hadn’t expected elegance, but the Inn at Snow Crystal was definitely elegant. Candles and fresh flowers adorned the center of tables dressed with pristine white tablecloths. A large fire flickered in one corner of the restaurant adding a cozy, intimate feel.
She’d chosen to wear her favorite black dress. It had frequently taken her from a day in the office straight out to a dinner meeting with clients.
And that was what this was, she reminded herself. Dinner with a client. It didn’t matter that their table faced the illuminated ski slopes and was perfect for a romantic, intimate dinner.
“Thanks, Tally.” Jackson took the menu from the waitress. “How are things in the kitchen now?”
“All fine, sir.” Tally’s gaze slid from his, but not before Kayla had seen anxiety.
Jackson saw it, too. “Tally?” His voice was gentle, and Tally cast a desperate look over her shoulder just as a crash came from behind closed doors.
Calm and controlled, Jackson rose to his feet. “It seems I need to visit the kitchen before we eat.”
Before he could take a step across the restaurant the kitchen door opened and a burly man dressed in chef’s whites blundered out.
“That’s it.” He ripped off his chef’s hat and thrust it at Jackson. “I’m done being told what to do by a woman half my age and height. Either she goes or I go, O’Neil. Your decision.”
Tally stood there, frozen with dismay, and Jackson smiled at her. “Thanks, Tally. We’re going to need some time with the menu. We’ll call you when we’re ready.”
The waitress shot him a grateful look and shot off, relieved to be out of the line of fire, while Jackson squared up to the furious chef.
“This is not the time or the place for this conversation.” He spoke in a low voice that couldn’t be overheard by the other diners. “Be in my office at nine tomorrow. We’ll talk then. And now I’d like you to return to the kitchen. We’re full tonight and I can’t be a chef down.”
“You should have thought of that before you hired that French bitch.”
Jackson’s expression didn’t flicker. “You’ll call her Élise, or Chef. And if you want to be on the team at Snow Crystal, you’ll work with her.”
“I won’t work with her. One of us has to leave.”
“If that’s your decision, then of course you must go. I won’t stop you.”
Darren’s face worked in fury. “Wait a minute—you want me to leave?”
“I have no use for people who won’t work as a team.”
The chef blustered for a moment and then stabbed a finger into Jackson’s chest. “Your grandfather hired me. He never had any complaints.”
“I’m not my grandfather.” Those blue eyes were icecold, that same mouth that could deliver a smile both sexy and wicked, hard-set and grim. “Go. Now.” His tone made Kayla wish she’d escaped along with Tally, and apparently Darren felt the same way because the bluster left him in a rush. He deflated like a balloon popped at a child’s party.
“I’ll reconsider if you’ll talk to her.”
“You threatened to walk out in the middle of service. I accept your resignation.” The softness of his voice was a contrast to the flint in his eyes, and Darren’s expression was wild.
“No one can reasonably expect me to work with that woman! Do you know what she said to me? She told me to get out of her kitchen because male chauvinist pig wasn’t on the menu.”
Kayla kept her head down and focused on her phone. She mustn’t smile. There was nothing to smile about.
Jackson’s chef was about to walk out and the restaurant was fully booked.
Darren was still blustering. “If you fire her, I’ll reconsider.”
“Élise has a job and a home here for as long as she wants.” Something in the way he said it caught Kayla’s attention, leaving her with the feeling that there was more behind his words, but Jackson was already walking the man to the door and she could no longer hear the conversation.
When he returned, she could sense anger simmering beneath the calm. “You’re going to have to excuse me for a moment while I go and talk to my remaining chef.”
At that moment a young woman with short dark hair emerged from the kitchen. She walked with the energy and grace of a dancer, head held high, eyes gleaming.
Assuming this to be Élise, Kayla braced herself for another explosion, but instead, the woman approached a young couple dining at one of the tables by the window. “You wanted to see me, non? You enjoyed my langoustines.” She spoke with only a trace of a French accent, her movements fine and delicate as she used her hands to illustrate her speech. “You will come back again and I will cook you my pot-au-feu. It is perfect for this cold weather. When you ’ave tasted it you will never want to eat anything else.” She beamed at the dazzled couple and then virtually danced across the restaurant to where Jackson and Kayla were sitting.
“Jack—” She softened the j, turning it into the French Jacques, and he rose to his feet, controlled and professional.
“Élise. Darren won’t be coming back.”
“Vraiment?” Something that looked suspiciously like happiness brightened her eyes. “He has decided he can no longer work with ‘that French bitch’?”
Jackson had clearly decided to be economical with the truth. “I’m going to try to get you some help in the kitchen for tonight.”
“There is no need. The French bitch can manage perfectly, thank you. You just sit down and enjoy your meal with your beautiful friend.” She beamed at Kayla, but Jackson wasn’t smiling.
“You can’t manage on your own, Élise. We’re full tonight.”
“And each person will enjoy the best meal they ’ave ever eaten. I can ’andle it. I will promote Jeff for the night. He is excellent chef de partie. He will be excellent sous-chef. I ’ave—have—” her cheeks dimpled as she corrected herself “—taught him to swear in French so the customers aren’t offended.”
Kayla gave a choked laugh, and Élise looked at her with that bright, direct gaze. “You have ordered your food?”
Jackson picked up a menu, but Élise leaned across and removed it from his hand.
“I will decide. If you want to help me, you could find me one more kitchen assistant. Someone willing, with a good work ethic and strong, because a chef spends long hours on their feet.” She eyed his shoulders and her eyes sparkled. “You are strong. If you are bored being the boss, I can find a use for you.” Without giving them