“It’s good to see you too, Chad,” Lexi said, patting her thighs in a silent call for Wingman, who dutifully walked over to sit on her feet and lean into her legs. Chad would have to get past her keeper if he wanted to cop a feel.
“At first I thought you were avoiding me, running out of the supermarket, not returning my calls, but then I told myself that you were probably busy getting settled. How is the bistro coming along?”
“You know about the bistro?” Not that she had kept it a secret, but she hadn’t advertised it either. She had finalized the blueprints and design with her designer last week, perfected her summer menu, and met with the contractor—twice. Until they broke ground on the remodel, and she knew what her grand-opening date would be, she was keeping a low profile.
“Well, yeah.” He reached inside his jacket and fished around in the pocket. He pulled an envelope out, shoved it in her face, and smiled. “For you.”
Wingman barked in warning, but Lexi took the offered envelope. It was official looking, with the Stevens, Stevens, and Stevens corporate seal on the upper left corner. And it was heavy—way too heavy to be an invitation to the yearly office party. “What is this?”
“Alexis Moreau,” Chad began, “I hate to be the one to inform you, especially since I am planning on picking you up a week from Saturday for a picnic and maybe a little dip in the lake, but you’ve been served.”
After Lexi swallowed back the bile that rose at the image of the kind of dip he had in mind, she asked, “Served? I don’t understand.” Her divorce was final. The assets divided. What the hell was going on?
“Jeffery has gained a court-ordered cease and desist that prohibits any use of recipes served in his restaurant Pairing.”
“Those recipes are mine.” They were all hers. And they were all that she had. “I created them.” She had breathed life into them, and they into her.
Experimenting in the kitchen had been the only time she felt truly happy in New York. She couldn’t keep her husband satisfied, couldn’t be a mother, couldn’t recognize who looked back at her in the mirror most days. But she could cook.
“Actually, the recipes are assets of the corporation that now owns the restaurant.”
“What corporation? Pairing is a family-run business.”
Ignoring her last comment, Chad looked at his watch, stepped forward as though to kiss her good-bye, and wisely settled on an awkward shoulder pat when Wingman bared his teeth. “Gotta run, Lexi. Pick you up at nine.” And he was gone.
Natasha straightened her top and smiled. “I better get going since lunch is in a few minutes. Great to see you, Lexi. And I am so happy to hear what an amicable divorce you and Jeffery had. It warms my heart. Really.”
CHAPTER 5
It was official. Marc was a stalker.
It had started out innocently enough, a quick glance out his office window at the precise moment that a light flickered on across the alley. He’d never noticed before that his office window, situated on the northwest corner of the hotel, afforded him a perfect view of Pricilla’s apartment, and if he angled his chair just so, he could see directly into her kitchen. If he stood he was able to steal peeks through the breakfast nook area and get a great view of Pricilla’s dining table. And if he stood up and pressed his face to the window, he could see all the way through to the family room and partway down the hall toward the bedroom, which was currently housing a tight little ass that he had the pleasure of watching swish its way around the house.
That night, he should have packed up his things and gone upstairs to his suite. Instead he’d watched her move through the kitchen, her bare feet and legs dancing around the room to Louis Prima as she took out nearly every pan and utensil in the house and spent hours cooking enough food for a large dinner party, only to take a single bite, dump it in the trash can out back, and start over.
That had been six days ago, after she’d been served, after she’d posted a note on her door canceling their dinner, and after she’d refused to return his calls.
That look on her face when she’d been handed those papers still got to Marc. She’d been shocked, then confused, then hurt, which