She peered at him as if that were a stupid question. "If it makes Emile cook in my kitchen and garners a lot of press, you're damned right it's good luck. Heck, the kind of press this will bring in is worth broken bones and stitches, maybe even a short coma. A little bump on the head is nothing."
Cale chuckled with disbelief.
"Oh geez," Alex said suddenly straightening. "I need to clean the restaurant."
"I thought you cleaned it every night after closing." Cale followed when she headed out of the kitchen.
"I do, but this is Emile," she said over her shoulder,speaking the name as if it were synonymous with King or God. "It has to be spotless."
"Would it pass a health inspection?" Cale asked, already knowing the answer. He had noticed the night he'd worked at the restaurant and then again the few times he'd stopped in at closing time, that Alex was very conscientious about that aspect of her business and had trained her people to be as well.
"Of course. I keep a clean kitchen," she said almost indignantly, stopping at the closet and dragging the door open.
"Then it's good enough for Emile," he said reasonably.
"That's different. I want to make sure there isn't even a speck of dust to be found. He's-"
"Alex," Cale said quietly, taking her coat from her when she dragged it off a hanger.
Scowling she turned on him. "Cale, give me that. I have to get to the restaurant and start cleaning. I want to scrub it from top to bottom, use bleach and a toothbrush in every crack and cranny." She frowned and added, "Maybe I should buy a new apron just for him."
She had been grabbing at the coat as she spoke, but Cale just kept shifting it out of her reach. Now he caught her arm, forcing her to a halt. "Scrubbing the kitchen today is not relaxing. In fact, it's more 'not relaxing' than if you were to cook tonight."
"Yes, but this is Emile," she emphasized with frustration. "I need to make sure everything is perfect."
Cale stared at her silently, and then sighed and lowered her coat. "Very well, if you insist that Emile's presence means cleaning all day, then I shall call my cousin and tell him to contact Emile and cancel his replacing you."
Alex had snatched her coat from him the moment he lowered it and immediately started to shrug into it, but froze now to turn shocked eyes to him. "What?"
"Well," he said reasonably, "the man is only coming up here to help out because you've been injured and are supposed to take it easy. How do you think he would feel if he went to all that trouble, and then arrived to find that the woman who was supposed to take it easy had worked herself like a dog today cleaning for his arrival ... Cleaning a kitchen which, by the way, was perfectly spotless when I saw it last night," he added grimly.
"He doesn't have to know," Alex protested.
"He would feel like he'd been taken advantage of, used for his reputation," Cale continued firmly, and then added, "And even if he didn't find out, I would know and not feel right. If you insist on this, I would rather cancel his replacing you, and let you cook, which is surely less strenuous than scrubbing a floor on your hands and knees. The doctor said you were to take it easy."
"But ..." She stared at him with frustration, but apparently unable to find a valid argument, sagged with defeat. Alex sighed, and her voice was resentful as she muttered, "I guess you're right. He'd probably be pissed to find out I'd been cleaning when I was supposed to be too sick to cook."
"You are too sick to cook," Cale said firmly. When she made a face at the claim, he added gently, "Alex, I know you feel fine right now, but your brain suffered a trauma last night. According to the doctor, it took a hard knock and was tossed around inside your skull when you fell. There could be bruising, or damage that isn't showing so far. Please do as he said and just take it easy? Just for one day?"
"Fine," she muttered, shrugging out of her coat and tossing it on the closet floor before slamming the door shut and marching off to the kitchen.
Cale stared after her with amazement, wondering if there really was some damage done. She was acting like a spoiled child who hadn't gotten her way. Fascinated by a side of her he'd never seen before, Cale followed her into the kitchen to find her leaning against the sink, staring out the window above it. When she sensed his arrival, she sighed and turned around muttering, "Sorry."
"I understand," Cale said quietly.
"So"-she forced a bright smile-"I guess I'll just putter around here today and rest. You can leave if you want, though I appreciate your staying last night. It was very sweet of you."
Cale narrowed his eyes, suspicion rising in him. His voice was easygoing when he said, "I'll leave if you like. I need to take your keys over to Lucian anyway."
"My keys?" she asked warily, her smile fading.
"He's going to take Emile to the restaurant. Probably a little earlier than is really necessary, but the man should have the chance to familiarize himself with thesetup," Cale lied. No one had mentioned plans on who should let the chef into La Bonne Vie, and he'd decided that morning that he'd do it himself. But he wanted Alex to know that she wasn't going to be rid of him and sneak off to the restaurant as he suspected she was planning. "And of course, I need to take your car keys as well to arrange to have it brought here to you. We were in my car last night, and you'll be without a vehicle until I can have it moved here, but since you plan to stay in anyway ..."
"Crap," Alex muttered, her smile definitely gone now. It seemed obvious she had been planning to sneak off to the restaurant.
"Or ..." he began, but paused to consider the plan that had just occurred to him. Cale was now worried Alex was annoyed enough with him that she might send him home out of irritation. But if he could tempt her with an antiquing trip ... If he left, she would be here without a car, so might be tempted, and he could see to it that she took it easy.
"Or what?" Alex asked scowling.