One More Taste (One and Only Texas #2)(75)

A zinger of pain shot up her arm and she yelped. She’d sliced the tip of her middle finger. A spray of blood smeared over the chopped herbs and cutting board. Horrified, she stared down at the mess, barely cognizant of the pain. She dropped the whole cutting board into a trashcan, then headed to the sink to flush out the cut. Her hands shook under the hot water as she scrubbed them clean. No wonder she’d cut herself. She was turning hysterical.

Nori, her sous chef, appeared at her side. “You okay, Emily?”

“I think so. I’ve had worse. Do you mind taking over for a little bit while I get this bandaged up?”

“Take your time.”

If anyone could talk Emily down from her panic, it would be Carina. She stole down the stairs and through the hall, racing to her office. When she stepped inside, she dug into her desk drawer for a bandage, which she applied to her still-dripping cut before pulling her phone from her pocket and dialing Carina’s number.

Carina answered on the second ring.

“I can’t do this,” Emily said in a quiet voice.

“Do what? Cook for the dinner party? Don’t go there, Emily. You know how you have a tendency to sabotage a good thing. Remember?”

“I know.” That was exactly what Emily had done. She’d sabotaged her success by sleeping with Knox. She’d let herself down. She thought about her crew of dedicated, talented sous chefs. She’d let them down, too.

“If this is out of loyalty to my dad about his retirement, then I’m going to stop you right there. It was his idea to retire early. He told us that this was for the best, so Knox could run the resort without feeling like my dad was looking over his shoulder all the time. He said it was to right the wrong from the rift so our family can move forward.”

To right the wrong from the rift.

Emily knew the next step in Knox’s plan to right the injustices that were done to his dad. She knew he was going to sell the resort as soon as it started turning a profit again, and then Emily would have to either find another location to move her restaurant or put her fate in the hands of the resort’s new owner. One thing was certain, she may never live down the reputation that she’d gotten this break because she was banging the boss. The restaurant world was cutthroat, and every perceived weakness—especially with female chefs—was exploited accordingly.

“Look, Carina. I need to tell you something. I did something—”

A knock on the glass interrupted her. Emily whirled around and nearly dropped the phone at the sight of Knox, dressed handsomely in a black suit with his lucky black Stetson secure on his head.

So much for Emily’s grand confession. “Carina? I’m going to have to tell you later. I’ve got to go.”

“Okay. I’ll be home all night, if you want to talk after the dinner party. Try to have fun. This new direction for the resort is a good thing, remember?”

Emily was trying to believe that, even though her success had come at the expense of her professional integrity. Jesus. When she thought about it like that, the situation felt even worse.

Knox gave her a sweet, lingering kiss. But even though none of her employees were likely to discover them, the display of affection still made her heart sink.

“Hey, there,” he said. “Nori told me you might be down here patching up a wound. Are you okay?”

She held up her bandaged finger. “Just a slice. You’re looking mighty fine,” she said as she straightened his tie.

“You’re looking mighty fine, yourself,” he crooned, tipping his hat to her like a good and proper cowboy. “Would now be a good time for me to whisk you out to the dinner party to meet my partners? I’d love for them to put a face with the chef before the meal begins.”

She was way too wound up at the moment to cope with vacuous small talk and artificial smiles. “You know small talk isn’t my thing. I’m the noodle maker, remember?”

“How could I forget? But listen, it would be great to have my partners’ support about your restaurant. I’m asking you to do this for me.”

She hesitated. “I thought the choice was yours, as the controlling partner.”

He shrugged. “It is, and I could overrule them if necessary. But their backing would be infinitely helpful to both our causes.”

She swallowed back a groan. She was going to have to do this. Shaking hands and kissing babies like a friggin’ politician. “Can’t my food speak for itself?”

He raised an eyebrow, then took her hand and tucked it into the crook of his arm. “I’ll be right there next to you. And I’ll make a deal with you. Do this, and then I’ll take you fishing in the dark after the party breaks up tonight.”

She let him tug her towards the double doors leading to the stairs. “Is that a euphemism?”

A rakish grin spread on his lips. “I guess you’ll have to wait and see.”

The private dining room in the steakhouse had been designed with the charm of an old hotel lounge, complete with brass fixtures, and elegant wood paneling. Lush velvet curtains were drawn back to allow access to a veranda that looked out over the gardens, with their strolling resort guests, and boasted a breathtaking view of the golf course and Lake Bandit. It was the perfect setting for Knox’s business partners to experience firsthand the magic of Briscoe Ranch after dark.

As they moved toward the nearest cluster of guests, Emily ruminated on the impressive wealth represented in the room, as she’d done so many times as a teenager at the dinner parties her parents dragged her to. No wonder Knox had had the confidence to sweep into Briscoe Ranch and assume control. This was the world he lived in, a world Emily had shed when she’d left her parents’ cavernous penthouse at sixteen. No doubt Knox could have privately financed Emily’s dream restaurant as easily as he’d arranged their dinner at The Smoking Gun. He could have rejected her proposal just as easily. No doubt about it, she was at the mercy of a powerful, wealthy man—a position she’d vowed to never find herself in again.