One More Taste (One and Only Texas #2)(6)

On his next breath, Knox frowned down at the soup, then pushed it ever so slightly away.

Emily gave a quiet gasp. The nerve …

“Agreed,” Ty said. “And we just so happen to have plans for a new restaurant in the works. It’s one of the reasons I asked our special event catering chef, Emily Ford, to showcase her skills by preparing us lunch today.” He gestured to Emily, who was still gaping at Knox’s untouched soup. It wasn’t until Knox’s eyes roved over her in a dispassionate study that she realized she was wringing the bottom of her chef’s jacket in her hands.

Ty continued, “She’s been working with me to develop a dynamic proposal for a world-class restaurant here at the resort. All we’ve been waiting for is the right investor, and here you are.”

Knox’s mouth gave an almost imperceptible frown. “No offense to Ms. Ford, but my investors have shelled out millions of their own dollars to transform Briscoe Ranch into a world-class luxury resort, so we need to aim higher.”

Aim higher? And here she’d thought Knox’s whole claim to fame in the business world was not being a jackass. Her loyalty to the Briscoes meant nothing to this man. And very little to Ty, either, obviously, who was allowing his family’s business to be yanked away from them. No, not yanked. Knox Briscoe had too much poise to do anything so passionate as yanking. Rather, this was chess. Or, perhaps, Monopoly. A slow, deliberate erosion of his opponent down to nothing.

Standing tableside, she touched the edge of the plate on which Knox’s soup bowl sat. Oh, how satisfying it would be to flip it over onto his perfectly pressed slacks. Her masterpiece deserved a better fate, but the temptation rippled through her with wicked glee.

Knox’s body tensed. He knew what she’d been contemplating, too. His hand twitched as though in preparation to grab her wrist and stop her before she could soil his clothing.

“Emily,” Ty warned.

Was she so obvious? So predictably reckless that both Ty and Knox could read her thoughts so plainly?

Screw them. Sure, they held her career in their hands, but neither deserved to eat her cooking today. With outrage pounding through her veins, she pulled out the seat at the head of the table between the two men and dropped into it. She slid Knox’s bowl in front of her, grabbed his spoon, and—as both men gaped at her—cracked through the br?lée and dipped into the sunset-orange soup.

The soup exploded in her mouth in a burst of complicated, unexpected flavor. Perfection. Better than sex. Better than just about anything else this heartless, cynical planet could offer.

She flattened her palm over the bound stack of papers in front of Knox. His grand plans for her home, her career, and the livelihoods of so many of her friends and colleagues. He was going to ruin everything, and there was nothing she could do to stop it; not if Ty was just going to roll over and let Knox walk all over him.

She pulled the dossier in front of her. Ty and Knox sat, stunned, watching her flip open the contract. Neither had yet to say a word about her brazen intrusion. How the hell was she getting away with this?

Her anger was too blinding for her to focus on the words or make heads-or-tails of the legal jargon. But she’d heard all she needed to know. Knox and his investors were going to turn the resort into yet another cookie cutter chain hotel. “Ty, this is a bad deal. He’s going to sell out. He’s a business flipper. That’s what he does. He doesn’t care about the Briscoes at all.”

“I am a Briscoe,” Knox said in a dull, even tone.

Emily was too pissed off to look him in the eye. She took another bite of soup to keep herself from telling him that he wasn’t a Briscoe in any way but his name. Instead, to Ty, she said, “If you do this, you’re going to lose everything your parents built, everything you’ve worked your whole life for.”

“That’s enough, Emily,” Ty said, but there was no mistaking the tinge of regret in his eyes.

Knox rose slowly, buttoning his suit jacket as he loomed over Emily. “Are you asking to be fired, Ms. Ford? Because I was hoping the chef I hire for the new restaurant would see the value in keeping on some of the resort’s restaurant workers as line cooks.”

Oh, this man. Emily visualized the way his perfect suit would look covered in mushroom reduction, sweet potato puree, and bits of roasted pheasant. In the end, she decided against the childish act, more out of respect for Ty than any sense of dignity or self-preservation.

Ty jabbed his spoon in the air at Knox. “You watch your tone with her. Emily’s too valuable an asset at this resort to work as a line cook.”

Spoken like the father figure he was to her. Emily’s heart warmed for the man who’d taken a huge risk in hiring her right out of chef school, homeless and without a penny to her name. Of course, she didn’t reveal any of that. She carefully schooled her features, refusing to splay open her chest and give Knox Briscoe one single glimpse of her heart. His careless response to her peaches was proof enough of his lack of a soul.

The gleam in Knox’s eyes turned cool and calculating as he turned his focus to Ty. “I wouldn’t have expected that from you, Ty. Sleeping with the special event chef. Interesting. And against my business policy.”

Emily’s self-control snapped. She pushed up from her chair, ready to get in Knox Briscoe’s face and give him a piece of her mind. She slammed her hands onto the table for emphasis, but instead of hitting the table, her right hand caught the rim of the soup bowl. As though in slow motion, the bowl launched itself at Knox. Emily lunged for it, but she was too late. Bright orange soup splashed all over the front of his suit.