“Alec Morgan’s return to the Portland restaurant scene is exciting news in the ‘Lifestyles’ space.” After introducing Colby to the photographer, Phillip, Melissa scanned the room with an alert gaze. She looked to be slightly older than Gentry. Although not as striking as Colby’s sister, Melissa shared a similar cavalier air and disregard for punctuality. The arrogance of people who valued their own time more than that of others annoyed Colby. “Is Chef Morgan here?”
Alec’s claim that the executive chef gets all the credit or blame was proving to be true. Not that that fact justified his periodic outbursts, which seemed to have increased since she mentioned her happy-hour idea the other night. If Ms. Westcott interviewed the staff, Lord knew what they might reveal.
“He’s in the kitchen at the moment.” For days now, Colby had mulled over his recent warning about keeping her distance. Naturally, it had only made her more curious. Her weakening resolve would frighten her if she had spare time to think about it. “Should we get started first and then call him in?”
“I’d prefer you to be together.” Melissa smiled and then mumbled something to the cameraman about taking some photos of the venue.
Colby could either bemoan the fact that, as usual, her desires ranked beneath everyone else’s agenda or exploit the reporter’s enthusiasm for Alec’s local celebrity. Intellect was always better—and less dicey—than emotion.
“Let me grab him.” Colby excused herself and scurried to the kitchen, where she found Alec criticizing one of the line chefs. Now wasn’t the time to address the untenable friction that had become commonplace in the kitchen. Privately, she conceded that the daily staff pep talks might actually be making things more awkward, not less. “Alec, the reporter is here.”
He swiveled, his mossy eyes darkened by impatience. “Good.”
After dictating a few orders to his sous chef, he crossed to her. While they walked toward the door, Colby muttered, “Please wipe the scowl off your face and smile.”
“I’m not scowling.” His scowl intensified.
“You are!” She waited for his expression to change.
“Colby, I’m not an idiot. This is my first opportunity to publicly announce my return, so I’m not going to scowl at the reporter.” Alec fixed the most ingratiating smile on his face and gestured toward the door.
His ability to shift from one emotion to another unnerved her, but she opened the door and crossed the dining room beside him.
He held out his hand to the reporter. “I’m Alec Morgan.”
“Alec, I’m Melissa Westcott.” When Melissa smiled, Colby noted the way she licked her lips. “I’ve been eager to speak with you both.”
Both? Hardly. Melissa had barely spared Colby a glance.
“Thank you. We’re equally eager to discuss the restaurant.” Colby took a seat beside Alec, while Melissa sat across from him. Colby noticed that she’d unbuttoned her blouse a notch, although Alec didn’t seem to be interested in Melissa’s cleavage, even as the flirt leaned forward to set the phone down between them.
“Gentry briefly mentioned some of the history between your two families.” Melissa looked innocent, but Colby sensed danger the way a dog could sense an oncoming storm.
Only someone as boundaryless as Gentry would arm this stranger with personal details. When Alec stiffened beside Colby, she recalled Sara’s remarks from the other night about his grieving, and her nurture reflex kicked in.
“History has nothing to do with our plans for A CertainTea.” Colby smiled, steering Melissa away from the topic of the tragedies and Une Bouchée so the woman couldn’t poke at Alec’s wounds. “We prefer to look forward rather than rehash the past.”
“Doesn’t everybody?” Melissa chuckled. “But this history gives an intensely personal angle to the piece, which makes it more engaging. So, Alec, you were the executive chef and owner of the former Une Bouchée.”
“Yes.” Alec’s controlled tone surprised Colby, although his smile had thinned. “Did you dine there?”
“Never that lucky, but I’m aware it earned the James Beard Award for Best New Restaurant.”
“It did.” Alec’s face remained impressively impassive.
“I understand that around the same time, your brother fell victim to the lure of cliff jumping at Punch Bowl Falls.” Melissa’s blunt delivery stunned Colby into silence. She watched Melissa study Alec to gauge his reaction.
He offered almost none. Only the slightest clench of his jaw signaled any discomfort. When no one spoke, he casually asked, “Is there a question?”
Colby wanted to slap him a high-five, but she kept a leash on her emotions. She needed this promotional opportunity, but she detested selling out to such a heartless witch.
Melissa intertwined her fingers. “Care to elaborate on how that accident played into the closing of your former restaurant?”
“Not particularly,” he said.
“I’m offering you a chance to explain what happened, and tell us why this new venture won’t fail.” Melissa tapped her pen on the table. “This is a golden opportunity to invite your fans back.”
“My former patrons’ foremost interest would be getting a sneak peek at the menu.” He smiled, but his shoulders remained rigid. “My brother’s death isn’t relevant to our plans.”
“On the contrary.” Melissa feigned compassion. “Readers will be hooked by your journey. Without that, this is just another new restaurant in town. So, please, tell me something about why you left and what brought you back. And why choose this suburban venue rather than something in the city?”
Alec’s gaze wandered up over Melissa’s shoulder. Colby sensed he might explode or bolt from his chair, so she surreptitiously clasped his hand, which he’d balled up on his thigh. She heard his breath catch, but then his fingers relaxed enough to close around hers. His hands—scarred from knives and burns—made Alec’s touch another newly callused thing about him.
“Melissa, let me answer that,” Colby interjected, trying not to wince from Alec’s tight grip. “As Gentry must’ve mentioned, Alec and I were childhood friends. When he returned to town, it seemed a natural fit to have him help me get this place off the ground.”
Melissa speared Alec with another stare but then shifted her attention to Colby. “Okay, let’s talk about you and your well-known family. You used to be a lawyer, and your family is in the tea business. What made you decide to open a restaurant?”
“I needed a change. Lawyering can be exhausting—always solving other people’s problems. I wanted to bring a little joy into the world. I envision this beautiful location as the site for many happy memories for families celebrating all kinds of accomplishments and milestones.” Colby noticed Alec’s grip loosening.
She could’ve eased her hand away, but she didn’t. Initially she’d reached out to comfort him. Now his touch soothed her, producing a pleasant hum in her chest. That should worry her, but at the moment, it didn’t.
“That’s sweet. Of course, you, too, suffered a loss not long after Alec. My sympathies.” Melissa briefly bowed her head in a phony show of empathy. “Did your husband’s suicide play a role in your career change?”