"What? Drop into your palm like a plum, ripe for the picking? " Bricker tore his gaze from the road to glance at him with obvious amusement. When Cale merely scowled, he shook his head and turned his attention back to the road. "You weren't paying attention back there at the house, were you? Didn't you catch the fact that Mortimer and Sam are life mates, have been together for eight months, and yet she's only now agreeing to the turn? Mortal women do have free will, you know."
Cale's eyes widened as he realized that was true.
"And contrary to what the movie claims, Earth girls aren't easy."
"What?" Cale asked, completely bewildered by the reference.
"Never mind," Bricker muttered with disgust. "Thepoint is, while we grow up with the knowledge that someday we will meet that special someone who can't read us and whom we can't read and so will, therefore, be our perfect life mate, mortal women don't. They grow up being taught that men are cheating, lying bastards and being told that they will have to kiss a lot of toads before they find the one who will be their prince. And then they're taught to be cautious because some princes are actually wolves in princely clothing."
Cale peered at the younger immortal with dismay. "Are you serious?"
"You don't watch much TV, do you?" Bricker asked dryly, and then suggested, "Get a clue, watch a movie or two tonight. It will bring you up to date on the state of the war of the sexes."
"War?"
"Yes, war," Bricker said solemnly. "Women aren't the sweet little biddable gals pleased just to have a bit of attention anymore. If they have a man in their lives, it's because they want him there, not because they need him to take care of them. Today's women can take care of themselves. At least a lot of them can. And as a successful businesswoman, Alex is one of the ones who can. In fact, dragging her attention away from her business is most likely going to be more of a struggle than anything. Especially right now," he added grimly.
"Why especially right now?" Cale asked.
"She's in the midst of opening a second restaurant," Bricker informed him. "She started with this little hole-in-the-wall. It was fancy," he added, in case Cale got the wrong impression. "But small. Only she's onehell of a cook, and it was a raging success. You had to book months ahead to get a table. So she decided she needed a larger venue, only from what Sam has said, that's been one problem after another, and Alex has been running in circles trying to get it together in time for opening night."
"When is that?" Cale asked.
"In two weeks," Bricker said dryly. "Trust me, she'll be running around like a chicken with her head cut off and-life mate or no life mate-you'll be lucky if she gives you the time of day if she finds out you're not a chef."
Cale was silent for a moment, and then undid his seat belt and shifted around to reach in the back for the cookbook. It seemed to him it was better to be safe than sorry.
"There's absolutely no one you can think of who's even a halfway-decent cook and presently unemployed?" Alex asked unhappily, and then listened to the voice over the phone as Gina, a dear friend who was also a chef, told her no. Alex grimaced, and murmured, "Well, thanks for trying, anyway."
Alex set the phone back in its cradle with a weary sigh. She'd spent the last forty-five minutes since talking to Sam making calls, but there didn't appear to be any chefs out there in search of a position ... which was just ridiculous considering the state of the economy, but it was also just her luck lately.
Growling with frustration, Alex scrubbed her hands over her face, and then dropped onto her desk chairwith a groan. She'd continued with her calls in case the chef whom Sam was sending over was completely unsuitable, but it seemed he was her only hope at this point. If he wasn't up to scratch, she would have to cook here herself tonight, which meant she couldn't see to the things she needed to do to get the larger restaurant opened on time at the new location.
Why on earth had she set herself up for this hell? Alex wondered miserably. It had seemed such a simple and easy plan at the time. This restaurant had been going like gangbusters, always full, the money rolling in. She'd been the fat, happy cat enjoying the cream of her success ... and then some little devil had whispered in her ear that she should expand and, like an idiot, she'd rushed impulsively forward with the idea.
Originally, Alex had hoped to purchase the storefront next door and simply knock down the wall between and make this restaurant larger. But then she'd realized it meant canceling several bookings to get the work done, and then someone suggested simply opening another restaurant at the other end of the city. She might bring in a whole new clientele.
With visions of a chain of La Bonne Vie restaurants dancing through her head, Alex had set out to find the perfect building in the perfect location. Then she'd settled down to decorate and market the opening of the second La Bonne Vie. Everything had gone smoothly at first, and then bad luck had begun to plague her. The perfect spot had been an old Victorian house at the edge of a busy shopping area. It was newly renovated, charming, and perfect-until an electrical firehad broken out late one night shortly after she'd started decorating it.
Fortunately, Alex had already had an alarm system put in, and the fire department had gotten there quickly. Unfortunately, while the fire itself hadn't spread far, there had been smoke damage throughout the entire building. Suddenly, instead of some light redecorating, Alex had found herself faced with the necessity of gutting the interior and fully restoring it.
Her luck hadn't gotten any better from there. The last few months had been spent putting out fires of a different sort: chasing down shipments that were delayed or just seemed to have disappeared, workmen who suddenly quit or simply didn't show up, orders that had somehow gotten confused so that the wrong products arrived. In a couple of instances, the workmen had started to install the wrong items before she got there, and the companies refused to reimburse her for "used" products.
Soon the money had started to run out, and she'd had to dig into her private savings. That was when Alex had begun to panic. With the opening date already set and promoted, she'd fired the project manager who had been overseeing the redecorating and promoted Peter from sous-chef to head chef at the original La Bonne Vie, so that she could be on site at the new building all the time to ensure that there were no more foul-ups ... which had apparently convinced the little weasel that he was a world-class chef worthy of scads of money.
"The ass," she muttered to herself, her glance sliding unhappily to the clock on the wall. Dinner bookings started at five, and it was nearly that now. If Sam'schef didn't show up, she'd have to start cooking herself. Not that she minded. Cooking was Alex's first love, all she'd ever wanted to do. It had been a terrible wrench to her when she'd had to pass the head-chef hat to Peter so that she could oversee the renovations at the new restaurant. But she'd had no choice.
Normally, Alex wouldn't even have been here today when Peter arrived with his announcement. She'd only popped by the restaurant to check on things and grab some paperwork she was hoping to go over later tonight. Her intention had been to head back over to the new restaurant in time for the delivery of paint the painters were supposed to get on the walls before the diningroom tables and chairs arrived tomorrow. At least that had been the plan before Peter had turned up with his announcement that he'd been offered that ridiculous sum of money to go to work for Chez Joie.
Alex scowled at the very thought of the nasty trick being used by her biggest competitor, Jacques Tournier. They had always been competitive, their respective restaurants vying for the same upscale clientele, but this was going too far. Not only could he ruin her, but he was definitely going to do Peter and his career some damage. But then Jacques had always been a jerk.
She glanced to the clock to find that while she'd sat fretting, time had continued to crawl forward. Alex could no longer put it off; she had to get out there and get to work. The first guests would have arrived by now, and their orders were no doubt already appearing in the kitchen. She would just call the painters at the other restaurant and-
A tap at the door sounded as Alex reached for the phone. Calling out for whoever it was to enter, she started to punch in the number to the new restaurant but paused as the door opened, and Justin Bricker appeared, his usual cheerful smile in place as he stepped into her office.
"Hey, Alex. How are tricks?" he greeted easily.
Alex stared at him nonplussed, and then groaned. "Dear God, surely you aren't the chef Sam was talking about?"