“The Waterfront is in trouble,” he said, then paused as the waitress came by to take their order.

When the woman left, Penny leaned back in the tufted seat of the booth and smiled. “I’d heard it was more than in trouble. I’d heard the place was done for. Hemorrhaging customers and money.”

She blinked, going for an innocent expression. No doubt Cal would see through her attempt and want to strangle her. But he couldn’t. Because he needed her. Was, in fact, desperate for her help. How she loved that in a man. Especially in Cal.

“Things have been better,” he admitted, looking as if he hated every second of the conversation.

“The Waterfront is the oldest restaurant in the infamous Buchanan dynasty,” she said cheerfully. “The flagship. Or it used to be. Now you have a reputation for bad food and worse service.” She sipped her water. “At least that’s the word on the street.”

“Thanks for the update.”

His jaw tightened as he spoke. She could tell he was furious about this meeting. She had an idea of what he was thinking-of all the chefs in all of Seattle, why did it have to be her?

She didn’t know either, but sometimes a girl couldn’t help catching a break.

“Your contract is up,” he said.

She smiled. “Yes, it is.”

“You’re looking for a new position.”

“Yes, I am.”

“I’d like to hire you.”

Five little words. Words that weren’t significant on their own, but when joined together, could mean the world to someone. In this case, her.

“I’ve had other offers,” Penny said calmly.

“Have you accepted any of them?”

“Not yet.”

Cal was tall, about six-three, with dark hair. His face was all sculpted cheekbones and stubborn jaw, and his mouth frequently betrayed his mood. Right now it was thin and straight. He was so angry, he practically spouted steam. She’d never felt better.