All the Way

Chapter Two

The woman on stage moved toward the center. She flung her arms outward in a symbol of surrender, acceptance, power. Her voice, delicate as a spider’s web, skimmed over the room. She invited her audience to share her journey, to open their hearts and souls for this brief moment in time; to share the pain and pleasure of life. And, suddenly, the voice grew larger, booming and echoing off the walls as she challenged the Gods to one final battle. The music became her defender, swelling with majestic force, and the audience held their breath as they hoped. They knew the ending, and yet, a tiny voice whispered in their ears to wait. Perhaps, this time, love will conquer all. Even death.

The last note of her aria rang through the air as she fought her fate. For one instant, Miranda believed the woman had won. Then she collapsed as the curtain crashed to the floor.

Miranda sucked in a ragged breath. The thunderous applause of the audience comforted her as she brushed away the stray tear and remained seated in the darkness. Years ago, she vowed never to cry over life’s events, but allowed herself this one luxury. Weeping at the opera was entirely acceptable.

“Are you okay?”

She turned toward Andy with a smile. “I’m fine. I hope you weren’t too bored.”

Her friend gathered his cashmere coat as the lights went up. “It was fine,” he responded gruffly.

She wiggled herself into the sleeves of her lime green raincoat. “No matter how many times I see La Traviata, I always hope the ending will be different. Didn’t you think—” she stopped short when she caught the telltale dampness on her friend’s cheek. “Andy, you were crying.”

He gave a disgusted snort and turned his back. “Don’t be ridiculous. Real men don’t cry.”

She laughed and trotted behind as they left the Metropolitan Opera house. The chandeliers dripped with opulence and shimmered over the crowd as they fought their way down the elaborate staircase. The dark wine carpeting cushioned her step.

“Liar, liar, pants on fire,” she sang. “You loved it and you were crying. Admit the truth, or I’ll tell Elaine you sobbed and caused a scene.”

“The pasta sauce went to your brain,” he said.

Miranda made a face as the icy blast of New York City air hit her full force.

He pulled his lapels up around his neck. “Anyway, stop distracting me. You never told me what your boyfriend wanted to talk to you about.”

“Ex-boyfriend.” She cinched the belt tighter as they headed toward the parking garage.

“He looked like he wants to rekindle the romance. What’s the deal?”

They ignored the flashing Don’t Walk sign and cut in front of a hurtling taxicab. The driver beeped and stuck up a middle finger, but she shrugged it off. She knew deep down the driver wouldn’t have thought twice about running her down and leaving her carcass in the street. God, she loved the ruthlessness of the city. And how sick did that make her? The conversation she’d been desperate to forget hovered on the edges of her sanity.

“The deal is quite simple. Asshole wants to explain why he left.”

Andy snickered. They paid the attendant, hopped in the car, and cut into a throng of traffic. Her friend didn’t speak for a while, as they eased one inch per minute, until his curiosity finally won. “What do you want?”

She shrugged. “I want him to leave me alone. I want to forget I ever fell in love with him and was stupid enough to think he loved me. He completely humiliated me. I opened up to him, let myself be vulnerable, and he left. Now I want to get on with my safe, orderly life.”

“So, what are you afraid of? You’re in control now. Maybe it’s time you proved that to yourself.” He grinned. “Maybe it’s time you taught Asshole a lesson.”

“What do you mean?”

“Why do women let men walk all over them? Look, he acted like a jerk and now he thinks he can corner you in the hallway and go back to the way things were. Think like a man. Hit him where he hurts the most.”

Miranda winced. “Doesn’t sound very charitable. Aren’t I supposed to be the better person?”

“Didn’t you ever hear of eye for an eye?”

“What am I supposed to do, get a couple of hoods to do a number on him?”

“Actually, I know this guy from the Mafia who—”

“Andy!”

“Kidding, just kidding. You’ll think of something. Picture thousands of women across the globe, waiting for you to bring justice to their gender.”

“Do you eavesdrop on Elaine’s conversations to come up with this stuff?”

“I watched Oprah once. But now that she’s retired, I’m into Dr. Phil. My therapist approves.”

She adjusted the heat of the vents and fought a shiver. “This whole conversation is ridiculous. I’ll never see him again. He may want me back, but I’ve moved on.”

“Why don’t you sound convinced?”

She looked out the window and tried to hold back the memories. “You don’t know how the relationship was. He had this sort of spell over me.”

“Like a weird sexual power?”

Miranda smothered a laugh. “Close. He’d just scored a partnership in MacKenzie & Associates Advertising, where he was used to getting what he wanted. And he wanted it all. Travel, power, money.” She shook her head in disgust. “But I saw something else in his eyes.”

“Uh-oh. Let me guess. A gleam of vulnerability. A bit of loneliness. All the things that trip up a woman.”

“Yep.” She nibbled on her bottom lip. “Of course, he told me the rules up front. He didn’t want any heavy commitments, and I accepted the terms. Until I fell in love with him.”

“I assume he didn’t suffer from the same emotions?”

The car pulled up to her apartment complex. “Guess not. After my big confession, he left. I never saw him again.”

“Until tonight.” Andy cursed and gripped the steering wheel. “He was probably running scared. We tend to flee when things get too heavy. God knows Elaine freaked me out when I realized she was the one, and it took a long time for me to finally realize it, too. Think about what I said. A little revenge may teach him a lesson. Not to mention how good it would feel.”

“Good night, Andy. Thanks for going to the opera with me. You can drop Stephen off at my house Saturday night.”

A flicker of guilt crossed his face. “I didn’t really mean we had to trade services, Miranda. You don’t have to babysit if you don’t want.”

“A deal’s a deal. You go to the opera with me, and I babysit. Besides, I love Stephen.”

“Oh, you like horns on a kid, huh?”

She grinned and got out of the car. “Like father like son.”

“Ouch. Get some sleep.”

She shut the door and shivered in the damp air. With a quick wave to the security guard, she took the elevator up and hurried inside. Her heels came off in record time, and she quickly stripped, threw on a T-shirt and shorts, and collapsed on the slate gray sofa.

Silence enveloped the room. A silence she’d become used to. A silence she learned to cultivate after realizing her life had become a series of adventures with no end, turning her into an excitement junkie.

So, she’d changed.

Quiet now meant peace. Security. Safety.

Miranda listened to the steady pelt of rain against the window. So why did the silence suddenly feel so empty?

She groaned and buried her face in the velvety cushion. What was the matter with her? She was a strong, capable woman, and Gavin’s crazy declaration meant nothing.

Just like she hadn’t meant anything to him.

The demons rose before her, flashing and taunting even as she squeezed her eyes shut and tried to block out the images. But they were stronger than her will and dragged her back. Forced her to remember.

“Talk to me, baby.” His mouth nibbled on her ear, did delicious things to her neck, and with one quick movement, strong hands ripped open her blouse.

She gasped, knowing this was the beginning of the game that would end in a rocket of pleasure. Knew the rough play ended in the most explosive orgasm she’d ever experienced.

“Tell me where you want to be touched.”

She guided her hands to her breasts and arched. “Here. Oh, yes, like that.”

His mouth replaced his fingers as he took one ruby crest between his lips and sucked hard. Her skirt fell around her feet and he caressed her buttocks through the silk of her panties. Liquid fire pooled between her thighs.

“More?”

“Yes.”

“Where?”

She grabbed his hand and pressed it against her throbbing clit. His leg hooked under her knee and lifted her up, bracing her against the wall so she was splayed open. One finger slipped beneath the elastic edge. Paused. And plunged deep. “Here?”

Her head hit the wall and her teeth bit down on her lower lip. On the verge of orgasm, she fought for control. “Yes.” She fumbled with his belt buckle, frantic to get him as deep inside her as possible.

He gave a low laugh filled with satisfaction. “You’re a greedy woman, Miranda.” Her hands closed around hard, silky flesh and squeezed. His gasp drove her on as she stroked his hard length. “Tell me what I want to hear.”

“I want you.”

He lifted her up. “Wrap your legs around me tight,” he commanded. She obeyed immediately, knowing he liked control, liked watching her lose her sanity before he gave in to his own satisfaction. “Look at me.”

Steel-blue eyes caught and held hers. Raw emotion and need exploded from her gut and shimmered through her and suddenly she knew. Knew he claimed more than her body in that moment. Somehow, in a matter of weeks, he’d claimed her mind and heart and soul.

“Say it again.”

Her flesh burned and shivered, as if caught between excruciating heat and bitter cold. “I want you, Gavin.”

He plunged hard. A cry escaped her lips as he buried himself deep and her body welcomed him. He moved, and she dug her nails into the hard muscles of his shoulders.

“Show me how much. Give me what I need.”

He rocked his hips against hers and took her on a wild ride. With each thrust, he made her beg, until the familiar ritual became much more. The orgasm screamed through her as loud and harsh as her words exploding in the air.

“I love you Gavin, I love you, love you…”

Miranda shot off the sofa with an agonized moan and headed toward the kitchen. With deliberately steady motions, she went through her nightly ritual of making tea. But the familiar actions didn’t bring back the numbness. Pain bubbled up deep and demanded entry into vulnerable crevices shut down long ago.

Damn him for leaving her.

Damn him for coming back.

He fled with her humiliating words echoing in the air between them, leaving something bigger than she’d ever thought possible. Alone—with a decision that could change both of their lives forever. She rested her hands on her belly and remembered. Like mother, like daughter. Except she would have made the right decision. She wouldn’t have abandoned her baby.

Miranda slammed the mug down on the gleaming white counter. Oh, what she would give to see him suffer emotionally as she had. Just once. Andy mentioned revenge, and Lord knows she was tempted, especially after the stunt Gavin pulled tonight.

Her gaze snagged on the pile of newspapers stacked neatly on the side. No use wasting time on crazy daydreams. She needed to write up her review on the new Thai restaurant, and plan the angle she wanted to approach her column. Her fans were wild about her sharp witty banter and ability to honestly pick apart a dining experience like a story, rather than the mean club approach too many critics prided themselves on.

She’d finally achieved her dreams and reached a semi-celebrity status in the foodie world. Between her regular critic reviews and her HotSpot feature for Foodie magazine, she was well recognized and respected in the industry.

Her mind sifted through the possibilities, remembering that awful spaghetti she’d consumed a few hours ago. Too bad Gavin’s restaurant sucked. How did he possibly make a profit? She figured Mia Casa wouldn’t be in business too much longer with a chef like that, and—

Gavin’s restaurant.

Column.

Miranda froze. The idea danced before her, ripe with possibilities. She quickly sorted through the ethics of her decision, but after a few moments, the plan hit in vivid, shattering force.

Oh yeah. She had a new idea for Sunday’s issue.

And it was going to be a doozy.

…

“We’re ruined! Completely ruined!”

Gavin shifted in the leather barstool. His mother threw up her hands in typical Italian fashion. He wondered if it was too early to have a drink. Usually, prepping for the day’s work gave him a surge of adrenalin. This morning, the scene reminded him of a funeral, and nobody could do a funeral as well as his family. Pop sat across from Brando with a look of doom on his face. His younger brother already had a pout to his lip, which meant he was on the defensive. And Antonio glanced from one to the other as if just waiting to be challenged.

With resignation, Gavin picked up the paper and stared at the Miranda Eats column. The heading jumped out at him and made his fingers itch to hold a shot glass:

Mia Casa Caves In.

His mother paced and wrung her hands. “In all the years open for business, we’ve never had such a review. Giovanni, what did you do to this food critic?” She peered over her glasses in accusation.

He winced again at his God-given name and reigned in his patience. He hated the family name, and changed it to Gavin years ago. His parents refused to acknowledge the change, so now he felt as if he had two identities. Of course, he could’ve been named Sonny from The Godfather, their favorite movie, so he figured he was lucky.

“Nothing, Mama.” He took note of his father’s frown and obvious disappointment. “We had some problems last night, but I had no idea she was doing an official review.”

Antonio slammed a meaty fist down on the table. “How can I work in such chaos?” he demanded. “Waiters call in sick, Brando’s on the phone all night with his girlfriend, and my wife is having an affair.” He let out a long stream of Italian curses. “I cannot perform under such conditions.”

He pointed to the quote in stark black and white. “It states here she spoke directly to the chef of Mia Casa. Are you crazy, Tony? Why did you answer a call from a critic without putting me on the phone?”

His chef straightened to full height. Unfortunately, since he only topped five-six, he didn’t have a long way to go. “She identified herself as Miranda Storme. How am I to know she is from Miranda Eats? She said she dined here and asked what I thought about the food I served.”

The awful finality of the quote slammed into Gavin’s brain and he read it aloud. “Anthony Riccio is the head chef of Mia Casa and states this about a customer’s dining experience: ‘The food is of the same high quality no matter what day or time a diner visits. I pride myself on consistency and good cooking.’ If this is the truth, don’t bother going in for lunch, either, unless you want to keep chewing your vegetables throughout the day.”

Tony threw his head up to the sky and spit out his declaration. “A lie! We shall sue and regain our reputation!”

Gavin surrendered the battle and reached for the crystal shot glass to pour a stream of whiskey. He ignored his mother’s shocked gasp and directed his words toward his chef. “Tony, the waiters told me they never served so much water. We want the bar bill up, not the water bill.” He cut his hand through the air for silence when his chef opened his mouth. “Enough. What’s done is done.”

“Tracey said I don’t spend enough time with her and she’s thinking about going with this other guy,” Brando said. “I had to convince her not to. Why am I always working anyway, when Gavin gets all the credit?”

His father reached out and grabbed his brother by his ear like he was three. “Brando, I am the one who called your brother and asked for help. He took a leave from his job to help us, and you will respect this.”

One lower lip jutted out in a sulky expression to rival Marlon Brando. “I bet I could’ve gotten a better review from Miranda Storme.”

“Brando Luciano, respect your older brother,” boomed Archimedes Luciano, patriarch of the family.

Brando stood up. “Why should I, Pop? I was the one who was supposed to inherit the restaurant. He goes away for three years, decides he wants the business, and you go and give it to him. Now look what happens. If business sucked before, it’ll be worse after the review.”

Gavin hated to admit his brother was right. His gut told him there was more to that review than just business, and he was to blame. “Mia Casa was going bankrupt, Brando,” he said quietly. “It’s a family business and we’re all involved, but this place needs some changes to keep up with the times. Dating and partying is fine, but the restaurant needs twenty-four hour attention. Are you ready to do that?”

“Sure. I’ll just imitate you. Abandon the restaurant and achieve a crappy review from the most important food critic in town. Pure genius.”

Mama shook her finger at his brother. “Language!”

Gavin squeezed his eyes shut. Unfortunately, his brother spoke the truth. Crap, why hadn’t he suspected she was on a formal review? Because the moment he laid his gaze on her, he’d been toast. When he left her years ago, she’d been ready to embark on her studies at the culinary. He figured she’d be a prestigious chef, and kept track of her progress while overseas.

Instead, she exploded in the papers and high-profile magazines as the hot new reviewer in the city. He studied everything she’d ever written. Her work demonstrated a sharp-witted style, a wicked sense of humor, and an old-fashioned tendency toward fairness.

But Sunday’s column was personal, and Mia Casa took the hit. How much money had he already sunk into the renovations and big-time advertising to build a new client base? A menu overhaul almost put him in the hospital, as each item needed to be argued over with his parents, while his mother mourned the loss of traditional favorites.

The celebrity chef stunt almost lured him to quit. Almost. He demoted Antonio to assistant, and splashed the announcement of the big new hire of a well-known chef from the Food Network. His grizzled appearance and world-weary expertise was impressive. Gavin figured the guy could take any crap his family threw at him and get Mia Casa big exposure.

Wrong.

His family plotted the chef’s demise from the beginning. Expensive truffles suddenly disappeared. The clean and white pressed uniforms the chef insisted on showed up soiled and smelly. The small group of waiters left his food under the warmer for too long, so complaints trickled in about dried up fish and meat. Seven full days, and the Lucianos toppled the big cheese. The chef quit and walked out in an old-fashioned temper tantrum, while Tony threw up his arms and pretended he didn’t understand.

More money down the tubes. And Gavin learned his lesson. He could dump his money, hire who he wanted, but the core group would never change because they were family.

Gavin grabbed for patience as his family continued bickering. When Pop called him and asked for help, he never hesitated. He figured it would be the easiest job of his career.

Not.

His one step forward with the renovations just took five steps back. Now he had to deal with the aftereffects of negative publicity. Why had she picked his restaurant at this time? Had she written the column to guarantee he’d track her down? An unconscious attempt to get him so angry, he’d be sure to initiate another meeting?

Gavin threw back the last of his shot. Hmmm. Sounded good, but he guessed she’d scoff and tell him his massive ego was twisting things again.

Didn’t matter. She’d thrown down the gauntlet and opened the door of the past, whether she knew it or not. He was just going to walk right through.

Gavin scooped up the paper and tucked it under his arm. “I’ll take care of it.”

“How?” Archimedes asked.

“I’ll get her to write a second review.”

Silence settled over the dining room. His family looked at him as if he’d taken leave of his senses.

Brando snorted. “She never does second reviews—that’s part of her style. Once she tags a place unfit, it’s tagged for life. You’ll never get her to do one.”

He gazed at his brother with narrowed eyes. “Watch me.”

He strode out of the restaurant.

…

“Ouch. Stephen, that hurt, you devil.”

The little boy screeched in delight as his pudgy fist came away with a few strands of red hair. Miranda rubbed her scalp where her new bald spot lay. “Manda, do it again!”

She shook her head and swung him high in her arms. “Don’t think so, flirt. If that’s how you show affection for a girl, you’re gonna be in some trouble.”

He kicked his feet and laughed as he played the familiar game of airplane. “Fly me, fly me!”

The doorbell rang, and Miranda made a landing noise as she settled him against one hip. “Come on, flirt. Daddy’s here to pick you up. Said you were going to the zoo today.”

“Aminals!” he shouted. “Daddy said I could see the lion in The Wizard of Oz.”

“That’s right. Lions and tigers and bears, oh my.” She grinned and threw open the door. “And here’s your—oh, my God!”

“Oh my God,” the toddler boy mimicked.

Gavin took one look at the toddler perched on her hip and grew pale. “Oh, my God.”

Silence fell between them as they glanced at one another, and Miranda tried to gather her wits. She knew writing the column had been a risk. With Gavin’s massive ego, she bet he thought she wrote it in the hopes he would contact her. Still, revenge had been too sweet to ignore.

But she’d never expected him to show up on her doorstep.

“What are you doing here?” She moved her head away as Stephen reached for another red curl. “How did you find me?”

Gavin’s gaze never left the boy’s face. His voice came out ragged. “I needed to talk to you. We never finished our conversation.”

Miranda snorted. “No, you just can’t handle a woman walking away from you. I was finished with the conversation. I think you’d better go.”

She tried to shut the door but he blocked it with the toe of his leather shoe. “We have a lot more things to discuss.” He studied the toddler. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Stephen must have sensed the growing tension and let out a cry. She spoke softly. “You’re upsetting him. I don’t have time for this right now.”

Gavin’s olive skin seemed to grow a shade paler. He propped himself up against the edge of the door. “I’m a little upset myself.”

“Look, if you have a problem with the review, take it up with my editor. Every word was valid and—what’s the matter?”

He ran one hand through his hair. Oaky brown strands flopped across his forehead. “Can I sit down for a minute?”

She opened her mouth to tell him no, but he moved through her apartment and settled on the sofa. Odd, he looked almost sick as he stared at the toddler. Almost as if…

Understanding dawned. He thought Stephen was hers! The humor of the situation put her back in a good mood. Good. He believed she had a husband tucked away in the back room and a full, happy life. The faster she got him out of here, the better off she’d be. He’d never bother her again. His monstrous ego probably shuddered at the thought she’d moved on without him.

“Are you happy?”

Miranda sucked in her breath as she caught the look on his face. Raw hunger. As if he wished the child was theirs. But of course, she was imagining things. Gavin told her many times he didn’t want children. Another reason she’d never told him the truth or tried to contact him.

She opened her mouth to tell the truth but the doorbell rang.

Miranda took a deep breath and let Andy in. “Hey, sorry I’m late, but Laura’s dance class ran over— Oops, didn’t know you had company.”

“Gavin stopped by to discuss a few things.”

Andy gave him a nod, then crouched and held out his arms. “Come here, buddy.”

The toddler ran toward his father and flung himself into the embrace. Andy swung him up, the look of fatherly pride gleaming in his eyes, but she made sure not to glance back. “You better get going if you want to have enough time at the zoo.”

“Was he any trouble?”

She absently rubbed her head and grinned. “Of course not, he’s an absolute angel.”

Andy laughed. “You’re a great liar. Come on buddy, time to see the animals.”

“Aminals! Bye, Manda.”

She gave the child a kiss and shut the door behind them. Then slowly turned around.

Electricity pulsed and crackled through the air. One very tall, very pissed off male rose from the couch and closed the distance between them. She watched in fascination as he stopped right before her. His jaw clenched with tension. “You should have told me.”

Her eyes widened. “You come storming into my apartment, make the assumption Stephen is mine, and you’re mad at me? You didn’t even give me a minute to tell the truth.”

He frowned. “You know what I thought.”

“What’s the matter, Gavin? Did you really believe I’ve wasted the past few years waiting for you to contact me again? Sorry to disappoint you, but I’ve moved on with my life. Now get out.”

“Soon. Why did you do a review on my family’s restaurant?”

She moved away and walked into the kitchen. Grabbing the kettle with unsteady fingers, she filled the pot with water and flicked on the flame. “All of my reviews aren’t planned. I do many impromptu visits.”

He followed. “Why do I have an idea you didn’t plan to write up Mia Casa until our encounter?”

Miranda focused on her soothing ritual. She took down a box of green tea bags, hoping the magical healing qualities of the herbs soothed her. One delicate teacup embroidered with roses clicked on the small plate. Sugar, milk, lemon. The tea set was an antique find in a second-hand shop and came from royalty. She liked to imagine a queen sipping the brew with ladylike restraint, her emotions firmly in check as she relaxed within the constraints of tradition.

God, how she longed to be that person. God, how hard she’d tried to change. “Does this really matter? What do you really want, Gavin?”

“I want you to do another review.”

She removed the kettle and poured. Fragrant puffs of smoke rose from the cups. She picked one up and handed it to him. “I see.”

“Your column was personal. Not up to your standards, Red. You always talk to the owner after a review to see if he or she had any comments, especially if you decide not to recommend the restaurant. You’re usually fair, but you didn’t write one decent comment about Mia Casa.”

“I liked the bread.”

He snorted. “I understand you wanted revenge. But your review can hurt my family, and they have nothing to do with the mess I made out of our relationship. I need a fair deal. Do a second visit, unscheduled.”

Her will shook, then stilled. He was a master at closing a deal and getting what he wanted. He rose up from the ranks at demonic speed, and became the top closer for a valid reason. He never took no for an answer. Even now, she fought her natural ability to surrender, and allow herself the pleasure of his approving smile, or the flash of satisfaction in his eyes. He was Dom material down to the bone, and she refused to play the game any longer. This time, he’d never get what he wanted. It was the last shred of pride left, and she’d be damned if she showed any weakness.

“No.”

He blinked. “No?”

She placed her teacup on the table. “I’m not doing a second review. I’m sorry it will affect your family, but I was fair, impartial, and I told the truth.” She quenched the tiny flicker of guilt and soothed herself with the knowledge she followed the basic regulations of rating a restaurant. Showing Gavin a lesson was just an extra perk in the process. “I told my readers I never tried the dessert. I called to speak with your head chef and get his comment. Talking with the owners is not a necessity, and doesn’t make or break a review. My motto is clear. I never do second reviews. Our business is concluded—on all matters. If you’ll excuse me, I have a number of things to do this afternoon. You know the way out.”

She took the cup from his hands, set it on the counter, and walked away. A rush of triumph raced through her. She was free. This time around, her old love was not in control, and it probably drove him crazy.

Andy was right. Revenge was sweet.

She stood by the door, ramrod straight, but he didn’t move. Just leaned his hip against the island with a casual laziness. Miranda knew better. He seemed to assess his options with lightning speed, before settling on his new path. “Wanna know how I felt when I saw you with Andy’s son?”

“Don’t.”

“What I was really mad about is how I felt at the idea of you having a child with another man. I hated it.”

Numbness overtook the anger until she felt limp. Her voice was toneless when she finally answered. “What we had wasn’t real. It was just sex.”

He pushed away from the counter and crossed the room. “You’re wrong, Red. That’s what I wanted to believe. Hell, I wanted to believe it so bad I traveled a thousand miles across the globe to prove I didn’t love you. Nothing worked. I made my money, accomplished my goals, and tried to be happy without you.” He paused. “But I never was. When Pop called and asked for help, all I could think of was the idea of running into you again.”

“You expect me to believe you took three years to realize you love me? Why didn’t you fly home immediately after you came to this startling conclusion?”

“It wasn’t like that. We were at a crossroads, and I didn’t want to interfere with your own goals.”

“Very convenient.”

“It’s the truth. You were off to study at the culinary. I had just scored a partnership. I completely panicked and made the biggest mistake of my life.”

She snorted. “Yeah, so big you jet-set around the world, being miserable.”

He seemed to think over her statement, and a misty longing edged his voice. “Most of the time, yes. But I decided to take some time off and travel to India. Everything started to crystallize there.”

“You went to India?”

He nodded. “I was taught a different way of life. I learned I’d been trying to find myself on the outside, but I needed to find out who I was on the inside. I didn’t track you down because I thought it was too late.”

“Right.”

He groaned. “I have a feeling you don’t believe me, but I never expected this to be easy. I didn’t want to come barging into your life again, Red, when there was a good chance you’d already forgotten me. Gone on with your life.”

“I have, Gavin. That’s the whole point to this conversation. Unfortunately, it didn’t stop you from cornering me in the restaurant, or leaving after I asked you to go.”

“Because I knew it wasn’t over the moment you looked into my eyes.”

The tears were trapped deep inside, but she refused to let them surface. Instead, she faced him with a deep calm. “You’re too late.”

“I don’t believe that.”

He stepped in front of her and laid both palms flat against the wood, trapping her head in between them. She let out a soft whoosh as the air left her body—faced with his full power. His warm breath struck her lips, a delicious mixture of whiskey and mint.

Miranda realized he was still in control.

The gleam in his eyes reflected a knowledge he affected her in the most primitive way possible and intended to use it to his advantage. The spicy scent of him teased her senses. She decided the best way to play the scene was flippant. “Seems we’ve been here before, huh? Me, Tarzan. You, Jane. Simply charming.”

His lower lips quirked. “You always were a hellcat, Red. I never knew whether to strangle you or drag you to the nearest bed. The latter proved more pleasant.”

She smiled sweetly. “I wouldn’t do a second review if you offered me a million dollars. I wouldn’t do a second review if I was sick, and dying, and you were the only man to help me. If you were the last man on Earth standing between me and a nuclear bomb blast I wouldn’t—”

“I get the message. You won’t do the review. Fine, I’ll change your mind later.” He ignored her outraged squeak and continued. “Time to take the first step, sweetheart. I’m going to prove your body hasn’t forgotten me, even if you want to deny your feelings.”

Her heart thundered and skipped like Derby day. “Arrogant, aren’t we? You were good, babe, but not good enough to span three years. I’ve had better.” Did her nose grow longer from her lie?

He lifted her chin up, forcing her to face him. Grim resolution shot from blue-gray depths. His body heat was almost tangible, tempting her to surrender and reach out to touch him. “Ouch. That’s gonna make me up my game. But I want more than your body. There’s been an empty ache in my gut from the day I walked away from you. I searched Godforsaken places to fill it and I never got close. Until now. I want another chance, Miranda. I want to know how you changed and who you are. I have eight weeks to prove myself again and I’m not wasting another second.”

He closed the inch of space between them by pressing solid muscles against her curves. His head lowered. Carved lips stopped inches from hers, and his breath rushed across her trembling mouth. “Tell me what you want, baby.”

The familiar command took her back. Nights of naked skin and sweat and orgasms. She gasped at his cruelty. “Damn you to hell.”

His hands slid down her body to link her fingers within his. “Already been there.”

His mouth stamped over hers.