Avery shot her daughter a grateful glance, the only sign she gave of seeing through Kate’s cheery facade. “I’ll treat you to dinner first,” she said, stripping off her rubber gloves. “We’ve both been working long enough. You get to pick the restaurant.”
The way Kate’s stomach was churning right now, cream of wheat struck her as about as daring a meal as she should risk. “Actually, Mom, if you don’t mind, I’ll skip dinner. Given the way Luke runs between restaurants, it might take me the rest of the evening to track him down. If I do manage to reach him, I’ll get back to you tomorrow morning, okay?”
“That’s fine. I suppose there’s no real rush.” Avery’s voice became acerbic again. “Ron’s been missing for six months. I daresay I can wait a few more hours to discover whether he’s dead or moved on to greener pastures and a younger woman.” She ruined the effect of her breezy indifference by walking out of the room at high speed.
Her mother was crying again, Kate reflected grimly. Damn Luke! And double damn Ron Raven. Her confusion finally gelled into certitude. She hoped her father was alive, she realized. That way she could have the pleasure of killing him as soon as she found him. Maybe she could build a bonfire and tie her loser ex-boyfriend and her loser father to opposite stakes. The way she felt about them right now, that would make a definite two-for-one bargain.
Six
It was late that night before Kate caught up with Luke at Luciano’s II, his restaurant in Winnetka. Walking into the once-familiar surroundings, she was impressed all over again by the subtle welcome offered by the clever layout and the classic Tuscan decor. The damp October night turned the log fire burning in the brick fireplace into a cheery focal point. The ocher of the rough plaster walls blended soothingly with the rusty-coral table linens, and an inviting aroma of herbs and simmering sauces seeped out from the kitchen. Cilantro and garlic, Kate thought, and red wine. If her stomach hadn’t been giving such an excellent imitation of a butter churn in full operation, she might actually have felt a spark of appetite.
The dining room was full, and the hum of conversation was loud enough to suggest everyone was having a good time without being intrusive. Luke had been working to upgrade the acoustics of the room at the time their relationship ended, and his investment had apparently paid off.
She hadn’t called to let Luke know she was coming. Talking to him on the phone would be difficult in any circumstances, given the way their relationship had ended. She’d decided it would be impossible with Ron Raven as the subject of their conversation. Now that she was here, though, she wondered if a phone call might not have been smarter after all. At the best of times, thinking about her father tended to provoke the urge to scream with rage or sob inconsolably, and meeting with Luke Savarini was light years away from the best of times. Kate broke into a sweat just imagining the horror of bursting into tears when she was around him.
By a significant effort of will, she brought her feelings under control. She was cool, she was calm, and there was no reason to suppose she’d embarrass herself. Provided she didn’t allow her fears about her father and her worries about her mother to bleed over into what should be a brief, polite conversation, all would be well. God knew, Luke was likely to be as anxious to end the discussion as she was. Neither of them had any interest in reigniting a flame that had caused burns of life-threatening severity without providing either warmth or light.
The hostess waiting by the door was new, which was a relief. Kate spoke her carefully rehearsed piece before her courage ran away and died. “Hi, I understand from the executive sous-chef at Luciano’s on Chestnut that Luke Savarini is working here this evening. Would you tell him that Kate Fairfax would like to speak with him? I realize this is a busy time and I can come back later if that would be more convenient.”
“Kate Fairfax, did you say?” The hostess smiled, giving no hint that she’d ever heard Kate’s name before. The TV coverage had been so blistering when her father disappeared that Kate still half expected to be recognized everywhere she went. The gradual return of anonymity was a blessing she appreciated every day.
“Yes, that’s right. Luke and I are old friends.” A slight misrepresentation, but she could hardly announce she was a former lover who, in normal circumstances, would prefer being locked in a small cage with a large crocodile rather than spend time with him.
“I’ll let him know you’re here.”
“Thanks so much.”
The hostess headed toward the kitchens and Kate gratefully stopped smiling. She picked up one of the heavy, leather-bound menus to check what was new since her last visit. She soon realized she was only pretending to read and put the menu down again. Her stomach continued to whirl. She strove to ignore it. For the past several months, it sometimes seemed that denial had become her default state of being.
The hostess returned. “Luke says he’ll be right out. He asked me to bring you a glass of wine from the bar while you’re waiting. Our house white is a Garofoli and the house red is a Valpolicella—”
“I appreciate the offer, but I’m fine, thanks.” Sipping a glass of wine struck Kate as an invitation to disaster. She’d changed into dress pants, a cream silk blouse and a cropped, brass-buttoned black jacket before coming in search of Luke, and she hoped she looked reasonably put together. Sadly, the aura of a woman in charge of her life was sheer illusion. Unlike her mother, who had clearly been a princess in a previous incarnation, Kate often felt that her social graces were no more than a paper-thin layer stretched over a seething swamp of klutziness.
She heard a slight stir in the dining room and looked up. Luke had come out from the kitchen and was walking toward her, leaving little ripples of interested conversation in his wake. The seven months since she’d last seen him had clearly done nothing to dim his charisma. Kate accepted, almost with resignation, that her skin pricked and her nipples tingled in automatic response to his approach. Even her stomach stopped whirling long enough to clench with sexual tension.
She supposed she shouldn’t be surprised by the instant tug of desire. Somehow, though, she’d managed to forget the power of Luke’s sexual magnetism. Still, they hadn’t broken up because they’d fallen out of lust, she reminded herself. Lust had worked well for them, right up to the end.
What the two of them had lost was mutual respect and any vestige of trust. Which made for a pretty comprehensive indictment of their relationship, she thought wryly. Her own final act of betrayal had simply been an exclamation point to punctuate the end of a relationship that had already died.
Luke was wearing the traditional starched white chef’s jacket and black cotton pants. The jacket was pristine, presumably because he’d changed before leaving the kitchen. He’d discarded the mandatory head gear and his short-cropped hair stood up in a thick, dark crest above his tanned complexion and smoke-gray eyes. Despite spending twelve-hour working days inside various kitchens, Luke looked as if he made his living outdoors. She knew he started each morning, almost regardless of the weather, with a five-mile run along the lakeshore, which partly explained the permanent tan and the impressive physique. She admired his self-discipline, but even when they first started dating and the gloss was still pretty blinding, she’d wished he could be a little less perfect.
They’d needed to break up before Kate was willing to admit the extent to which she’d been intimidated by Luke’s assets. He had so darn many, aside from self-made wealth and good looks: his warmth, his friendliness, his easy sense of humor and his ability to roll with the punches while still working at a fiendish pace.
Then there was his storybook Italian family. She’d loved hearing tales about his brothers and sisters, not to mention his ever-expanding crop of nieces and nephews. She’d envied him the casual camaraderie of his five siblings and the general aura of controlled chaos surrounding his family life, although toward the end of their relationship she’d begun to wonder why she’d never met any of his relatives face-to-face. She knew Luke