All I Ask of You (Heron's Landing #2) - Iris Morland Page 0,1

with more speed than she thought possible, and then his arm was around her waist, keeping her from tumbling headlong out the window.

He hadn’t let her go yet—that was the first thing she noticed. The second thing she noticed was how warm his arm was around her waist. And the third thing was that he gazed at her with such naked longing that her skin prickled.

Her voice finally returned. She whispered, “I’ve wanted to tell you. I just, I’m…”

His gaze roved over her face. She could feel his fist clenching against her back. He opened his mouth to speak—

“Jaime,” Adam asked as he approached them, “why exactly are you holding my sister out a window?”

Grace squeaked. Jaime yanked her upward and then let go, so quickly that Grace felt dizzy. Had he almost kissed her? But now he wouldn’t even look at her, so was that just some kind of fluke?

Then she realized they hadn’t responded to Adam’s question. Her brother stood, his arms crossed, looking at them suspiciously.

“I almost fell out of the window,” Grace blurted. At Adam’s eyebrow raise, she explained, “I wasn’t paying attention and tripped. Jaime kept me from falling, that’s all.”

Jaime stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Yep, I didn’t want her falling into some prickle bush.”

“Uh huh,” Adam said. He kept glancing back and forth between the pair, and Grace could feel a blush climbing up her cheeks. Did he know that she’d thrown herself at Jaime? Her blush grew brighter. She couldn’t look at Jaime. She was sure her guilt was written all over her face.

“Well, I’m going back to my office. Jaime, could you give me the next week’s menu whenever you get a chance?” Adam uncrossed his arms, but he still kept watching them.

“Sure, I’ll get it to you within the hour.”

If Grace didn’t know any better, she’d say that Jaime’s voice was forced. If she strained her own eyes, she could make out how stiff his shoulders were and how he looked like he’d rather be anywhere else than in front of his boss and friend, Adam Danvers.

“Okay…I’ll see you two later. Be careful, Grace.”

As Adam left them alone, Grace let out a soft sigh of relief. She really, really, really didn’t want her older brother to know she’d confessed her feelings to his executive chef.

“I need to get to work.” Jaime didn’t even give her a chance to respond before stalking off to the kitchen. Grace watched him, his shoulders still stiff, his hands in his pockets, and all she could think about was how dark his eyes had gotten when she’d told him how she felt.

Guilt coiled in her gut, along with the desire and the emotions and the love that made Grace Danvers’s inner life more interesting than her outward life. Jaime obviously wasn’t happy about what had happened between them, and she’d instigated it.

Grace hated when people were upset with her; her family called her the queen of apologies, even when an apology wasn’t necessarily warranted. But she had a feeling she needed to apologize this time because she made things uncomfortable between them. Jaime wouldn’t be feeling so awkward if she’d kept silent.

She followed Jaime into the kitchen, where his sous chef, Eric O’Neill, worked alongside him. A few other younger chefs, including some interns, bustled about the kitchen, chopping carrots and cracking eggs and trying to avoid Jaime’s wrath if they dared to cut the carrots julienne instead of diced.

Jaime had created a reputation for himself as exacting and rather ruthless, but no one could say that he hadn’t also created a restaurant that happened to be a jewel in the middle of nowhere Missouri. When he’d first come on, the restaurant had been little more than a café. Now it was a four-star restaurant with reviews being published in international magazines and blogs, with government officials, celebrities, and other notable figures coming to sample the food.

“Eric!” Jaime picked up a plate of chicken with asparagus spears and polenta. “Did you look at this chicken? This is definitely not cooked through.”

Eric, a rather short, bland kind of man in his mid-twenties, made a mulish expression and continued chopping onions. “Yeah, I checked it. It’s done.”

Jaime just stared at him. Then he set the plate on top of Eric’s cutting board with a thump and snatched his knife. He cut into the chicken, revealing a pink center.

Grace winced.

“Does that look done to you? No? Then do it again, and do it right. You’re my sous