DANI BUCHANAN LOVED everything about her job. As assistant to the executive chef, she was in charge of reviewing food orders, making sure the kitchen staff showed up when they should, acting as liaison between the front of the house-the dining room-and the back of the house-the kitchen. During the dinner rush, she expedited plates and made sure the right orders got to the right table at the right time.

With Penny approaching zero hour on her pregnancy, she was spending less and less time at the restaurant, which meant more responsibility for Dani. Instead of feeling the pressure, Dani felt energized. She loved the challenges, how no two days were the same. She enjoyed the foul-mouthed cooks who had made her prove she wouldn’t blush at the raunchy jokes. Here in the kitchen of The Waterfront, she was just staff. Not Penny’s sister-in-law, not one of “the” Buchanans. She was judged on the job she did, nothing more.

She finished checking the produce delivery and signed the receipt. As the delivery truck rumbled away, Edouard, Penny’s sous-chef and the man now temporarily in charge of the cooks, walked in.

Dani eyed his scowl. “Someone not getting any?” she asked sweetly.

“This job is cutting into my social life,” Edouard told her with a sniff. “I am forced to leave the clubs before I am ready. Sometimes I am forced to leave alone. I do not like that.”

Edouard was French, moody, brilliant and recovering from a breakup. He could have made a reputation for himself, but he didn’t want the responsibility. Instead he was happy to be highly paid by Penny and have a life outside of work. Except while she was on semimaternity leave.

He walked into the kitchen and looked at the list of specials.

“You change them every day,” he complained. “Why is that?”

“Partly tradition and partly to annoy you.”

“We do not have the same people dining here night after night. They would not know if the specials remained the same for a week or so.”