The Cost of Silence by Kathleen O'Brien

Author:Kathleen O'Brien
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2011-10-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER ELEVEN

WHEN ALLISON AGREED to be friends with Red Malone, she’d assumed it wasn’t a particularly dangerous promise. In her experience, that kind of guy—the charismatic, self-assured playboy type—didn’t really have female friends. He merely had women who were still lined up in the relationship queue, waiting their turn to take a spin on the Red Malone love machine.

Once the possibility of progressing to sex was off-limits, he’d lose interest in a hurry. So when she didn’t hear from him over the next three days, she wasn’t surprised.

She assured herself she wasn’t disappointed, either. They’d left their temporary association in a good place, considering how rocky their early meetings had been. When Red came to the restaurant the night the plumbing went wacky, he had clearly been looking for a way to close things amicably. Which was not to say she didn’t appreciate his help. He’d been a godsend, especially considering Jimbo didn’t return her SOS until midnight.

So Red had kept the boat from sinking. And on that chivalrous note, he could leave with a clear conscience. Now he could return to his real life, and his real women. He could go back to hanging out at the country club with Victor’s “real” family.

And she could once again focus on the business at hand. Which, right now, was an entrée-tasting session with Jimbo and Meg Bretton, the farmers’ market find who was quickly becoming a good friend. Allison sat at a small table in Summer Moon’s kitchen, waiting, while the two foodies worked side by side at the newly installed range, concocting marvels and dueling for Allison’s approval.

Eddie was staying with Sue for the afternoon. What with hot burners and spitting oil, with knives flying, cleavers hacking through melons and ten-inch blades spinning through vegetables, this competitive kitchen was no place for a baby.

“Here you go. Pork chops with melon salsa.” With a flourish, Meg set a plate in front of Allison. The scent rose invitingly to her nostrils. If this were a cartoon, Allison thought as her mouth watered, the steam would consolidate into a hand, with a bent finger beckoning her in.

“Don’t fill up on that,” Jimbo cautioned from the stove. “I’ve got a salmon skewer coming next…same salsa.”

“My salsa.” Meg’s smile was smug. She tossed her shoulder-length blond hair triumphantly. “Remember how you predicted it would taste like bilge water?”

He grumbled something inarticulate, then turned his focus to the stovetop. “Okay,” he said grudgingly. “I admit it. The salsa isn’t terrible. In fact, Alli, we need to get her under contract right now. Exclusive contract.” He seemed to notice Meg’s triumphant grin, and rolled his eyes. “Not that anyone else is exactly beating down her door.”

“Really?” Meg gazed at him, one hand on her hip, her expression arch. “And you would know that…how?”

Allison covered her smile with a forkful of pork chops. If Jimbo and Meg had already progressed to affectionate insults, the intimacy was developing even faster than she could have hoped. Jimbo’s insults were reserved for two groups—the people he couldn’t stand and the people he was crazy about.

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