Hired: Cinderella Chef

“Not a clue, Liv, but I’ll find out soon enough. Until then, I’m really not going to worry about it.” No, and she wasn’t going to bother thinking about Patrick Judson’s upcoming engagement, either. Still, Liv’s mention of her boss’s relationship with the apparently beautiful and hot Angelise Marsdon was a solid wake-up call, a smack upside the head, Darcy thought. What had she even been thinking about noticing the man’s eyes and getting all gooey just because he had a deep voice and a nice smile?

“Breakfast first,” Darcy said, forcing herself to stop dwelling on her boss’s ability to make a woman feel hot even when she was holding the refrigerator door open. “I am not going to let you get stuck with extra chores just because I have to leave the kitchen for a few hours. Let’s get started.”

But she had barely managed to get the coffee made when she felt a presence at the door and turned. Patrick Judson was just entering the kitchen, and the way he was studying her…

Over the past few years Darcy had grown to expect and dread the pitying looks people sometimes sent her way, or worse, the way they glanced away self-consciously, but this was different. There was genuine interest in his gaze. And something else that made her feel like blushing when she was just not the kind of woman who blushed.

Anger sluiced through her. She liked this job. She needed it, too. Romantic or lustful thoughts were off-limits, and not just because the man was practically engaged. It went deeper than that. She’d already had a man destroy her heart when she was at her lowest. Her career had been snatched away. She’d lost her baby and more. Everything she’d dared to reach for was gone, so she no longer risked dreaming. She grasped only for the attainable. And Patrick Judson? He didn’t even come close to being attainable. The man might as well have had a big, flashing Not For Darcy light on his forehead. Only a self-destructive fool would risk being attracted to him, and she was a survivor, not a fool.

Life had boiled down to the practical, the doable, and even if she had still been the type to indulge in romantic dreams, this man was way out of her league and would have been even before the accident.

“Excuse me for invading your kitchen before you’re done, but what can I say? That is one of the most incredible scents in the world,” he said, glancing at the coffeepot. “A man would do a lot for a cup of that. Is it ready?” he asked with a smile that would have coaxed a snowman into a sauna.

Darcy couldn’t help smiling back just a little. “It’s ready. Coffee is a major food group, you know.”

He grinned and that darn snowman melted a little more. “I see we share an addiction.”

Darcy’s body turned to fire. That deep voice and the way he breathed in the aroma of the coffee she handed him before he took a sip… Darcy could so easily imagine him nuzzling a woman’s neck, breathing in her scent and telling her she smelled wonderful.

Darn it, no, where had that thought come from? Instantly she tried to blank out her thoughts. Some men could home in on a woman’s attraction. She prayed that Patrick wasn’t one of them. “Breakfast will be ready in mere minutes,” she said, the words coming out in a rush. Thankfully the act of promising results “in mere minutes” was enough to get her back on track. The meal would have to be something uncomplicated. Omelets, she decided, with fresh vegetables and herbs and cheese.

“Sounds great,” he conceded. “And after breakfast, you and I have things to do. Would you dine with me?”

Mind reading men became the least of Darcy’s worries as she thought of sitting across a table from him. There was something about a meal that suddenly seemed very intimate.

“No,” she said, too hastily. “I mean, thank you, but no thank you. Work to do, you know. Olivia is on her own today. I need to…” To what? Olivia was more than capable of managing on her own when Patrick wasn’t around to be fed. When Darcy had arrived, the young woman had been relying on a cache of frozen casseroles the former cook had made up. There were still plenty of those.

But this is my kitchen now, Darcy reminded herself. And she didn’t like falling back on the former cook’s meals. So, there. She did have a good excuse for not eating with her boss. She wasn’t a coward.

“Work,” she repeated.

“Coward,” he said with a smile. “As your employer you know I’d give you a pass on the work, but…maybe work isn’t the problem? You told me that you don’t like being the center of attention. You must have thought I would grill you.”

Darcy blinked. “Would you have?”

He smiled again. “Not until after breakfast.” Then, he picked up his coffee, turned and left the kitchen. “A few minute’s reprieve, Darcy,” he called back. “Then you and I begin.”

Silence filled the kitchen after he had gone, but Darcy’s mind wasn’t quiet at all. Begin what? she thought.

Less than an hour later, Patrick stood outside the house looking down at Darcy and reminded himself to tread carefully here. Darcy was his employee as well as a resident of Able House, and both of those facts made him responsible for her. It wasn’t right for him to notice those warm brown eyes or the way her hair caressed her jaw when she moved. His unexpected interest in her wasn’t acceptable. Especially since he would soon be leaving the country.

“Are you ready?” he asked, holding out his hand.

Those brandy eyes widened and she looked at his hand as if it was some sort of harmful weapon.

“I’m sorry. Have I…offended you?” he asked.

Quickly she shook her head. “No, not at all. And yes, I’m ready.” Then she tilted her head slightly. “You just caught me off guard, that’s all. People generally don’t hold out their hands to me.”

He nodded. “Because you need them to operate your wheels, I assume.”

Darcy hesitated. “Yes, that’s probably why.”

But it wasn’t, he could tell. What kind of people had she been dealing with? “If anyone at Able House has been unkind…”

Instantly she went on full alert. “No! They’re wonderful people, all of them. I love that place! No, the handholding…I think it’s just that the metal gets in the way in people’s minds. It’s like having one of those force fields around you from a sci-fi movie. For the record, I don’t think it’s an intentional snub, just an oversight.”

“Good, because you would tell me if there was a problem at Able House, wouldn’t you?”

She laughed. “And rat on my friends? Not a chance.”

He shook his head but smiled. “You’re an interesting woman, Darcy. I have the feeling there’s a lot more to you than great food.”

“Well, there’s great coffee, too.”

Patrick chuckled. “Absolutely. Now, are you really ready?”

“Not really. Last night you told me that you needed me to let my light shine. I assume that means you want me to be an ambassador for Able House. But, as I tried to explain, I’m a pretty private person. I don’t think I’ll ever be ready for the spotlight.”

That complicated things. Could he let this drop? Not when there was so much at stake.

“I respect your desire for privacy,” he said. “But Able House hasn’t had nearly enough time to prove itself to the world, and now I’m leaving. The timing isn’t great, but it can’t be helped. My overseas project has been in the works for five years, long before the opportunity to create Able House came about. Before I go, I have to make sure Able House’s standing in the community is solid.

“That’s a necessity. The people in the neighborhood have to grow comfortable with the residents of Able House, to think of them as contributors and assets. And yes, it’s unfair that Able House should have a higher bar than the other locals do, but fair or not, you and your fellow residents have to show the community that the project wasn’t a mistake.”

The hurt, angry look in her eyes got to him. How many times had she been forced to prove herself to others?

Patrick could see the strain this conversation was having on her. Her face was pale, her body rigid.

“I’m not the only resident,” she told him.

“No, but you’re going to be my connection to everyone else.”

“The directors?” she asked.

“Are directors. They don’t have an in like you do. Caring as they are, they’re outsiders. They don’t live your life. They don’t really know what it’s like to be you. And neither do I. Besides, didn’t you tell me that you were a police officer, a public servant? Darcy, you can still do something like that, but instead of chasing bad guys, you’ll be serving Able House and this community.”

While the kitchen clock ticked away, she sat there, looking angry and rebellious and sad all at once.

“You don’t exactly fight fair,” she said.

“My sisters would agree with you.”

She tilted her head. “Were you a tough guardian?”

“A total bully.”

“And not very truthful,” she said with a small smile.

“Ah, the lady wants truth? All right, I let them twist me around their fingers all too often, but not when their well-being was at risk. You’ll help?”

Slowly she nodded. “I don’t really have a choice. Able House is special. In the short time it’s been here, most of us have bonded. It’s our home.”

He held his hand out in a gesture of acceptance. “I promise I’ll fight for you while I’m here.”

This time when he held out his hand, she took it. Patrick had meant it to be a symbolic gesture, a joining, the beginning of a pact, but as she lay her slender hand in his and the pads of her fingers slid against his palm, every nerve ending in his body switched on. He was aware of her in a way he hadn’t been only seconds earlier. She was no longer just a compelling, interesting woman and a great cook, no longer just his bridge to the residents of Able House. She was a flesh and blood woman who drew him in ways he didn’t want to acknowledge.

He let her go as they began to move down the path toward the gardens.

“So, what do you want me to do?” she asked.

“Fill me in on your background and what life is like for you now. Give me a tour of Able House. I’ve been there, of course, during the building stages and at the opening ceremonies. But I’ve stayed away since the residents arrived. It’s your home, not an institution. I haven’t wanted to intrude.

“I am aware that some of the neighbors haven’t been welcoming, and…now, after meeting you and given my upcoming departure, I’d say I dropped the ball.”

“We’re fine,” she said.

Not true. There had already been problems with a couple of neighbors who didn’t seem to understand or to want to understand how great a barrier their parked cars posed when they placed too many vehicles on the driveway so that they stuck out over the sidewalk. Or that sprinklers that overshot the grass and hit the walkway would soak anyone rolling past. They’d been parking their cars like that for years. They’d never had to think about the impact of how they positioned their sprinklers and they resented having to change their habits for people they hadn’t wanted in the neighborhood in the first place. Patrick had heard their complaints many times, and he was beginning to think that what might originally have been unconscious rudeness and laziness had become, to some extent, a form of harassment. There was still a sense that Able House would drag down property values and decrease the elite atmosphere of the neighborhood. That kind of resentment wasn’t easily overcome.

“Darcy, the plan was to integrate you so deeply into the neighborhood that you become a necessary part of the whole. That would help Able House become a springboard for similar residences. But, to achieve that you have to be visible, not flying under the radar. I’m sorry if we didn’t make that clear when you moved in.”

“People in wheelchairs often fly under the radar.”

He held up his hand. “I would never say that I understand your life, your experiences or how you feel. I don’t and I can’t, because I haven’t lived your life, but I know this much. Your legs may not work the way they used to, but other people with functional limbs lack your talent. Hiding that talent would be a mistake.”

She frowned.

So did he. “A mistake,” he repeated. “Living at Able House comes with strings attached. It isn’t a retreat. Retreats are fine. They have their place, and we all need to hide away now and then, but Able House is your job as well as your home, and your job requires you to go forth and be visible. All right?”

Darcy nodded, but he could see that she wasn’t happy. No wonder. She had just told him that she was a private person and here he was digging into her life.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a stubborn man?”

Patrick chuckled. “Yes, as well as bossy and arrogant. So, are you still in?”

“I’m still here, aren’t I?” she asked. “And please don’t make some lame joke about how I couldn’t get away. I could totally leave you in the dust if I wanted to.”

“I’m sure you could,” he said, and he wasn’t lying. He had watched her deftly and seamlessly maneuver her chair over a place where a tree root had forced the sidewalk up a good four inches. And given her current pace, he was already taking long strides to keep up with her.

When they reached the fountain surrounded by yellow roses in the middle of the gardens, he motioned for her to stop and sat down on a bench facing her. “All right, here comes the part where I’m not only stubborn but pushy and nosy as well. So, how did you end up at Able House?” he asked.

“Don’t you already have all that information?”

“I don’t intrude on the residents’ lives.”

She gave him a wide-eyed look of disbelief. Given all that he’d told her and the demands he was making on her, he could understand her incredulity.

“Okay, I didn’t intend to intrude. I carelessly assumed everything was going as well as could be expected, given the neighbors’ initial reluctance. I didn’t realize that there might be any other complications until you told me that you didn’t want to be visible. And, okay, that stuff about not butting in? I’m making an exception in your case,” he agreed. “But I’m not digging through your files or asking one of the directors to break trust with you—which they wouldn’t do, by the way. I’m just…asking you. I won’t know if you leave something out.”

Darcy frowned. “So, I could lie to you…”

“And I’d be clueless.”

“That wouldn’t be very helpful, though, would it?”

He laughed. “No, it wouldn’t.”

“So, you’re trusting me?”

“Looks that way.” He waited.

She gave him an incredulous look. “That is so lame. How did you ever grow up to be such a success? In the part of town where I grew up, you would have been taken advantage of on a daily basis.”

He gave a casual shrug and continued to wait.

“I hate that you’re trusting me. It means I have to be honest. I do have a code of honor.”

Now, he couldn’t contain his grin.

“You knew that, didn’t you?” she asked.

Patrick tipped his head. “The directors spent a lot of time choosing the residents. Honor would have been important and they would have gone over every detail of your situation, your personality and your accomplishments. They probably know things about you that you don’t even recognize yourself.”

Her frown grew. “I doubt that very much, but…all right. I’ll give you the abbreviated version of how I came to be where I am. I wasn’t always in the chair, only for the past couple of years. Actually I was born in a very poor part of the city and ended up in an experimental suburban school program where a group of us with meager means but a decent stash of brains were thrown in with the cream of the elite. We were not welcomed or popular, as you might imagine, but the leaders of the program patted themselves on the back for helping the disadvantaged, the elite parents patted themselves on the back for allowing us to mingle with their children, the teachers patted themselves on the back for having to put up with our presence—the administrators hated the extra paperwork. Knowing that we were unwelcome charity cases, we had chips on our shoulders and bad attitudes, and the other students barely tolerated us. In addition, the district had budget cuts and the following year we were sent back to our own neighborhood schools where we were considered to be uppity for having mixed with the rich kids. The whole experience left me with a bad attitude about certain types of philanthropy.”

“And you think Able House is like that?”

“No, but I don’t like to be held up as an example or a poster child.”

“Understood.”

She gave him a small, resigned smile. “But we’re still going forward with this.”

This time he couldn’t smile back. “Darcy, I was nineteen when my parents died and I was left to raise my three sisters. If I’ve committed myself to a cause or to individuals, I don’t want to be like those people who dropped your project after a year. I intend to follow through and make sure that Able House will survive whether I’m here or not.”

“Well, then, you’ve got your woman. Survival is something I know all about.” Her smile and her attitude practically blew him away. He had a feeling it would be dangerous to underestimate Darcy Parrish. Or his reaction to her.

CHAPTER THREE

WELL…this was certainly stressful, Darcy thought as she and Patrick continued on, proceeding down the path toward Able House. She was constantly aware of the man by her side. In a physical way. In an emotional way. She hated losing control of her emotions, but her unexpected and completely feminine and foolish reaction to Patrick Judson was leading her to do just that, and now he wanted her to—

“All right, here’s the rest of my story,” she said, rushing ahead in the hopes that reliving those bad old days would smack some common sense into her. “After that wonderfully humiliating experience I told you about, I turned into a rebel, got in trouble, but quickly realized that was a road to disaster. Eventually I somehow got my act together enough to get into and graduate from the police academy, but just as I was about to achieve that dream, I ended up in a one-car accident that left me with some sensation but minus the ability to walk and chase down the bad guys. And then…a few things happened and I ended up here. So there, now you know everything about me.”

His smile was warm, even as he shook his head. “I said that I was going to trust you. I didn’t say I was a fool. Some things happened, and you ended up here? All right, I won’t ask for the details, but it’s obvious even from that brief introduction that you’re a much more complex woman than you care to admit. So no, I don’t know you.”

“And I don’t know you.”

“Touché. I’m asking you to share, but not reciprocating?”

“I’m not complaining. You’re not really my business, are you?” she challenged.

“Maybe not, but I’m asking a lot of you. So, what do you want to know about me?”

“Why did you fight to get Able House into the neighborhood? Why does it even matter to you?”

Patrick stopped walking. “Partly selfish reasons. My life has been taken up with my sporting goods business and my sisters, and when Lane—who is eighteen and heading off to college—was in a serious accident and we didn’t know what condition she would be in six months down the road, I had to wonder what her life would be like if I weren’t a rich man or if I weren’t around. How would the world treat her? What opportunities would she have? Who would she become? Would the world even realize what a gift she was? And, when I mentioned my concerns to a physician friend and heard that there had been interest in starting something like Able House for several years, it was an easy choice to donate the land and the money. But, I would never have thought of getting involved at all if my sister hadn’t had the misfortune to have a skiing accident.” He shrugged.

But Darcy wasn’t about to let that pass. “Lots of good things wouldn’t happen without a catalyst or a defining, life-changing moment. I haven’t run into her, but I assume she recovered.”

“Completely.”

“I’m glad.” Without thinking she reached out and touched his hand. Instantly awareness of him as a man kicked back in full force. Warmth, pulsing energy, a frisson of excitement ran through her. Was she insane? She’d barely been able to sit still when he’d been holding her hand earlier. Now, she had initiated contact? The instinct to jerk away was strong, but she couldn’t let him know that one totally innocent brush of her fingertips against his skin had affected her this much.

“Almost to Able House,” she managed to say. As if he didn’t know that.

“Lead on. You’re the expert here.” His low voice resonated through her body. Darcy kept moving, hoping none of her friends would notice how flustered she was.

“Hey, Darce, why are you back so soon?” someone called out as she rolled within view of the center. “Aren’t you working?”

“Detour of duties today. We have a visitor,” she said, happy that her voice sounded reasonably normal. As they neared the building, which was surrounded by deep green lawns, winding walkways, fountains, flowers and sculpture, more people appeared. All were in wheelchairs.

“Is that Mr. Judson?” one older man whispered to the man next to him, loud enough to be heard.

The other man smiled. “Sure is,” he said. “You’ve seen his pictures in the paper and he’s been here before.”

“But he’s with Darcy,” the man said.

“Edward, you know I work for Mr. Judson,” Darcy said, raising her voice a bit because Edward’s hearing was less than perfect.

Still, everyone looked a bit perplexed and concerned. “I know what you’re thinking. I didn’t mouth off and get fired. He isn’t here to return me for a better product.”

Patrick chuckled and everyone turned to look at him.

“She’s an excellent product,” he said to Edward. “Not the type to be returned as unacceptable. A great cook. Have you eaten her chocolate mousse?”

“Oh, chocolate,” Maria said, her voice worshipful. “I love that stuff. But ask her to make you a lemon meringue pie next. It’s better than sex.”

Instantly Darcy felt uncomfortable—and hot. She was afraid to look at Patrick but she did it, anyway.

“Better than sex? Well, I wouldn’t want to miss that.” he said with that lazy tone that made Darcy feel shivery. For some reason the fact that she even felt that way when he talked made her angry.

“People think that a person stops thinking about sex when they have a spinal cord injury, but we don’t,” she said defiantly.

“Why should you?” Patrick asked. “Sex is complicated. It involves the mind, not just one or two body parts.”

Darcy noticed that Maria was looking at Patrick with lust in her eyes. In fact, she was looking very much like a woman on the verge of propositioning the man, and Maria was a beautiful redhead, an intelligent and capable woman.

“Now that we’re all settled in, Mr. Judson is here to learn the ins and outs of Able House. He wants to make sure we’re well established when he goes overseas soon, and he might be expecting us to go out in public and do some promotion,” Darcy said, a bit too primly.

“Hey, okay by me. Whatever Mr. Judson wants,” Maria agreed.

Patrick looked a bit uncomfortable. “For starters, I hope you’ll all call me Patrick,” he said as Darcy made the introductions and Patrick shook hands all around. Later, when they were alone and back at the house, Darcy repeated the details he wanted.

“Edward is an electrical engineer. Maria is a computer programmer. Cerise was an Olympic swimmer who now teaches and coaches at a local fitness center. Laura is a fashion designer. Aaron is a dentist. If this weren’t the weekend, most of them wouldn’t be here. They have jobs.” Her tone was a bit defensive, she realized.

“I’m not the enemy, Darcy,” Patrick said, sliding to the floor beside her wheelchair.

“I know you’re not the enemy,” she said. “But I—I feel as if you want something from me that I’m not sure I can give and I don’t even know what you want from me yet. Do you?”