“I hope you’re not breaking your diet, Emma.”

Inwardly she fumed. How dare her mother tell her what she could and couldn’t eat. She wasn’t a toddler anymore.

“His food is divine,” she declared.

“You cannot be serious.”

“I am, Mother. And his food isn’t the only thing that’s wonderful.”

She barely stopped herself from saying,He’s the best lover I’ve ever had, hands down.

“I have to go now. Give my love to Daddy.” She put her thumb on the end button. “I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

Closing her cell, she turned off the ringer and shoved it in the back of the top dresser drawer.

“Nice performance,” Jason said, leaning against the open French doors.

“I didn’t know you were listening.”

Raising an eyebrow, he said, “I’ll make you breakfast.”

She followed him through the garden and into the patio door that lead to the kitchen, wondering if she’d unwittingly passed another test.

“Think your parents are going to send out the cavalry?” Jason asked as he whipped eggs, butter, and fresh feta cheese for omelets. His words were light but he wasn’t joking.

“No,” she said, thinking,I hope not. “They’re just over-protective,” she said, sighing and wondering why she was defending them to Jason. She should have been apologizing to him for how they’d treated him all those years ago. Jason slid a full plate across the island and she admitted, “You know what I’m just starting to realize?”

“What’s that?” he asked, a bite halfway to his lips.

She watched him chew, unable to turn off the part of her brain that wanted to leap across the granite and French him, all discussion of her parents instantly forgotten. Dipping her fork into the light and delicious looking omelet, she worked to get her mind around something other than orgasms.

“It’s not all their fault.”

Her companion didn’t bother to mask his surprise. “How so?”

She took a bite and swallowed, closing her eyes with delight. “My God, you really do incredible things with food.”

“Nice try.”

She held up one hand in defense. “I’m not trying to change the subject, I swear.”

“So then, back to mommy dearest?”

Emma tried to frown, but gave up with a giggle. “You really shouldn’t call her that. She’s not that bad.”

“Emma,” he growled.

“Sorry. What I was going to say before I got distracted by your godliness in the kitchen and your nasty nicknames for my mother is that all this time,I’m the one who has let them dictate my life to me. You’re going to laugh, but this morning on the telephone was the first time I’ve ever really stood up to her.

Ever.”

Saying it out loud felt impossibly silly and immature. What kind of thirty-two-year-old woman took so long to grow a sliver of a backbone?

“What a wimp I am. Especially since I already feel guilty for hanging up on her.”

Jason reached for her hand across the countertop. “You’re here, aren’t you?”

She nodded, unable to take her eyes from his strong hand across hers. It was the first time he’d reached for her, the first time she hadn’t been the one to make the first move.

“Nothing wimpy about that.”

It was the nicest, most encouraging thing anyone had ever said to her. And coming from Jason, she felt that it was almost absolution for her sins.

He couldn’t believe she’d told her parents about him. He’d been so sure she’d make up some story rather than admit to slumming it with the poor boy they’d never had the time of day for. Stranger things had happened, certainly, than Emma standing up to her parents. Right now, though, he couldn’t think of too many.

“Got any plans for today?” he asked, wishing for the first time that he didn’t have to head into the restaurant.

He’d been torn all night long by his opposing goals. On the one hand, he desperately wanted to trust Emma, to be with her, to let himself love her. On the other, he’d never allowed a woman to come between him and his career, never planned on letting Emma get such a strong hold over him again, and all the sane voices in his head told him to watch out.

But in the end, he wanted to be with her more than he wanted to be without her, payback be damned. So he was shutting the voices of reason down. Pussy-whipped idiot that he was.

In an uncertain voice, she said, “Um, I was hoping I could help you out.”

He raised an eyebrow in question. “With what exactly?”

His lavicious intent was clear and she laughed.

“At your restaurant.” Before he could shoot down her idea, she added, “I could fold napkins or shine silverwear.”

This time he laughed. “Nothing like putting your Stanford Economics degree to good use, is there?”

She snorted. “Putting my degree to good use is highly overrated, trust me.”

It was the perfect opening, so he took it. “You haven’t talked much about your job since you’ve been here.”

Her face changed from bright and open to slammed shut. “That’s because I haven’t wanted to think about it.”

“Don’t tell me you got fired? Not Emma the perfect?”

Poking her fork in his direction like a deadly weapon, she said, “First of all, I’m not perfect. We both know that.” She looked the fork in her hand as if seeing it for the first time and put it down. “And no I wasn’t fired.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Unless I fired myself and forgot about it, yeah, I’m sure.”

He whistled. “Of course you own the company. What was I thinking? You working for someone else?

Laughable.”

She bristled at that. “How so?”

“Let’s put it this way,” he said as he leaned across the table, “I’m not entirely sure that you won’t have completely revolutionized the way my staff folds napkins and shines forks by the end of the day. They’ll probably start calling you boss and saluting.”

She grinned, all bright happiness again. “So I can come with you?”

“If you’re sure you wouldn’t rather be wine tasting and laying out by the pool?”

“I’m sure.”

Emma’d never had a job like this before, one where she could let her mind wander and actually talk to the other employees. She’d either worked for her father’s financial planning company or been building up her own mortgage brokering business. Serious, serious, serious. That had been her working life.