“Yes. You and your team have done an incredible job transforming this tired place into something really cool. Somewhere I’ll be proud to work for hopefully years to come.” She hesitated before she continued. “And the kitchen is perfect.”
“Thank you.” Marcy looked genuinely surprised to hear her say this; there was even a slight glimmer of emotion in her eyes. “And now that we’re being nice to each other, I need you to know I think you’re an amazing chef.”
“How do you know? You’ve never tasted my cooking.”
“I had the amuse-bouche at the pre-opening dinner, and I tasted your gazpacho. Everything was delicious. I wouldn’t mind tasting more of your food, though.” Marcy raised a brow and held her gaze. “Maybe you could cook for me some time?”
Zoe threw her head back and laughed. “Don’t push it, Marcy. We may not be enemies, but I’m not inviting you to my parents’ house.”
“Oh. You live with your parents?”
“Just for now. I only recently returned from Hong Kong before I started here, so I’m staying there until I get settled into the job. I’ll start looking for a place eventually, but I’m not in a hurry.” Zoe shrugged. “It’s kind of nice to be home again; it’s been a while.”
“Then you must be close to your parents.”
“I am. I’ve missed them.” Zoe stood before Marcy had the chance to ask any more probing questions as it was starting to get too personal for her liking. Aside from that, she couldn’t ignore this damn attraction anymore, especially now that they were alone. “Well, I’d better get back to work.” She pointed to Marcy’s hand. “Your hand should be fine. Leave the dressing on until tomorrow, then put another one on if you need to. I think you’ll be surprised to see how quickly it heals.”
21
“What happened to your hand?” Abby looked worried when she spotted the dressing.
“It’s nothing. Just a cut from yesterday.” Marcy hadn’t taken it off yet; she kind of expected to find that the green paste had been absorbed by her open wound, making it look even more dreadful. It didn’t hurt anymore, though, and it wasn’t throbbing, which was a good sign that at least it wasn’t infected.
“Show me.”
“I’d rather not—”
“No, let me see that.” Despite Marcy’s protest, Abby pulled her onto the sofa and started unwrapping her hand. “You should check it if it happened yesterday. What if it’s all swollen and infected?”
“It’s not, it doesn’t hurt.”
“Goodness!” Abby’s big, brown eyes widened. “It’s green. You need to see a doctor.”
“It’s just some herbal stuff. I don’t remember what it’s called.” Marcy frowned as she stared at the palm of her hand and wiped the paste off with the dressing. She was surprised to see that the wound had already closed neatly. “See? It’s fine.” Her words came out hesitantly as she couldn’t believe how well it had healed. “Guess I won’t even need a new dressing.”
“How bizarre. Who gave you the paste?” Abby asked.
“Zoe, the executive chef at El Escondite.” Marcy wondered why she felt strange saying Zoe’s name out loud, and she hoped it didn’t show. “I should drop by there and thank her. She makes this stuff herself and I hadn’t expected it to work so well.”
“Yes, you should.” Something in Abby’s expression shifted. A subtle flinch, but Marcy noticed it nevertheless, and Abby’s voice was sharper than normal. Was she mistaken or was there a hint of jealousy in her eyes? “That was very nice of her.” Abby let out a deep sigh, and she shook her head, her expression softening. “Do you like her?”
There it was. So itwasjealousy. “No,” Marcy answered immediately. “I mean, I couldn’t stand her at first.” It was the truth, but she couldn’t deny that Zoe had been on her mind an awful lot in the past few days since their conversation in the dressing room.
“And now?”
“Now I get why she behaved the way she did, and I like her better.” Marcy shrugged, aware of the blush on her cheeks. “Why do you ask?”
“Because you didn’t look me in the eyes when you mentioned her name.” Abby turned to her, draping her arm over the sofa’s backrest. “Look, Marcy, we’ve always been clear about one thing. That this would never get serious between us, and that it would never stand in the way of my marriage or your love life.”
“I don’t have a love life,” Marcy said dryly. “I don’t want to be in a relationship; it’s not something I’m good at.”
“Right. But I get the feeling that there’s something there, with you and… what was her name again? Zoe?” Abby held up a hand to stop Marcy from interrupting her and continued. “As much as I look forward to our nights, I don’t want to stand in the way of your happiness, ever.”
“I don’t have feelings for her, Abby. In fact, I barely know her, and I’ll probably never see her again because I’m done with the project.”
“Well, whatever you tell yourself, I need to go with my gut,” Abby said. “And my gut just told me I didn’t like how your eyes lit up when you mentioned her name.” She reached out to stroke Marcy’s hair. “Nothing about this is right and you know it too.”
Marcy shivered at Abby’s touch, and she lowered her gaze to her cleavage. She understood where Abby was coming from. They’d probably reached the point where feelings were getting involved and she didn’t want that either, but it didn’t help that the woman was wearing a transparent, red negligée. “You’re right,” she said. “We probably need to stop doing this. You love your husband and you’re my mother’s best friend. Everything about this is wrong.”
