Almost all meals and certainly all dinners were prepared by Kelly and she thrived on her small but special audience. Jill’s farm assistant, Denny, often joined them for lunch and sometimes for dinner. He was a handsome young bachelor of twenty-five, perpetually cheerful and funny. “I thought I’d stumbled on the perfect job in Jilly Farms, and that was before you showed up, Kelly,” he said. “Now I have the perfect job and restaurant! I don’t think I’ve ever eaten this well in my life! Kelly, you’re not only a genius but a gorgeous genius.”

And Kelly looked at the square, dimpled jaw, bright eyes, hard-muscled physique on his six-foot frame and said, “Oh, Denny, I wish I’d met you ten years ago!”

“Well, I’d have been fifteen, but that’s no big deal,” he said with a sly grin. “I’ve always liked older women.”

Older woman? She wasn’t that much older! She glowered at him and said, “You wanna eat, smarty pants?”

Rather than short nights or sleep that came on the heels of exhaustion, she slept a good, peaceful eight hours or more. Her head was clear; she didn’t face daily conflict.

She’d only been at Jillian’s for a week when Jill said, “When the movers empty your flat of household goods, have everything brought here. Take the whole third floor—it’ll give you space for your sofa, favorite chair, TV, desk—it’s more spacious than your flat was. You’ll have as much privacy as you want and if you want to be around people, you know where we are.”

“I wasn’t planning a long stay—”

“Listen, you could live in this house for a year without even bumping into anyone, if that’s what you want. But let me tell you what I want,” Jill said. “I want you to give yourself enough of a break to be sure your health is good, your emotions level and positive and your poor heart mended. The first thing to do—let Dr. Michaels give you a quick checkup to be sure your new blood pressure medicine is doing its job. My guess is that once you’ve had some time away from that nuthouse of a restaurant, you won’t even need it anymore.”

Kelly had spent most of her adult life avoiding doctors, and she hadn’t had a single symptom or incident since moving into Jill’s house. But it made sense to see the local doctor.

As for her positive emotional state and poor broken heart? She was working on it. Things were coming into perspective—all her fantasies about life with Luca were a mistake and she should have known better.

Getting herself kissed by a sexy guy didn’t hurt. Whatever it was with Lief—not quite a romance but something more than simple friendship—it made her feel better about herself. When he was near, she just couldn’t stop looking at him—that thick, burnished blond hair, expressive brows, warm brown eyes all combined to make him so handsome. But that body and what he did to a pair of jeans just knocked her out.

Lief dropped by daily. Determined not to be a drain on the household, he took it upon himself to chop wood, getting Jillian started on a big pile that would get her through winter. He’d show up in the morning and split logs for a while before sitting at the work island while Kelly was cooking. Problem was, it was pretty hard for her to focus on her project of the day while he was hefting that ax out by the storage shed. The beautiful strain on his shoulders, back and arms could send her right into an erotic trance.

And he caught her staring out the kitchen window every time. He would flash her that wide, white grin before getting back to work.

He never mentioned it, though. Once his log-splitting was done for the day, he was content to sit in the kitchen and talk.

“Tell me how one goes about writing a movie,” Kelly said.

“Just about the same way one creates a recipe,” he said. “You experiment with taste, I experiment with words and feelings and settings. I have an image in my head that I try to get on the page. The script is like an architectural drawing with details and directions to build a movie.”

“How many have you actually sold?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Half a dozen. The selling isn’t the important part—it’s the filming and releasing. Lots of original scripts are optioned, which is kind of like ‘reserved’ for a period of time. Then when there’s principal photography, when they begin to actually shoot the movie, they’re officially sold. But they still have a long way to go before a viewing public might see them.”

“But when do you write them? Late at night?”

“I haven’t been doing that much writing lately—I’ve been setting up a home, spying on Courtney, fishing, chopping wood, thinking and trying to get things under control. Like things were once upon a time.”

“I take that to mean, when Courtney’s mother was alive.”

He nodded. “Lana worked in wardrobe for a production company. She was a single, working mom when I met her and she was getting along very well. We were married four years when she died, suddenly. Aneurism. She was at work. We were in shock, me and Court, but I love writing and was trying to work my way through the grief when I realized Courtney’s life was going to hell. She was being shuffled between her dad and his second family and me, not sure where she belonged anymore. Her appearance and behavior changed—I think it was gradual but I felt like I looked up one day and here was this Goth creature with felonious tendencies.”

“And you decided to come here?”

“Not fast enough,” he said. “I got advice from everyone I knew—friends and family. The names of counselors, grief groups, child-raising experts from Tough Love to Dr. Spock. I floundered and Courtney got in trouble. This was a pretty desperate move to help her. Us. To help us.”

She leaned on the work island and asked, “Who helped you?”

“Oh, I managed. I had a support group through a Unitarian church and a couple of good friends who hung in there with me long after I’m sure I’d become a huge, depressing downer.”

She smiled at him. “In spite of the harsh realities of what you’ve been through, you’re not a downer now.”

“Thanks, Kelly. I’m ready for the next phase of my life. I just have lots of things to work out before that’s my only priority.”

Sometimes they walked around the property, of which there was plenty. Lief and Kelly were kicking around the pumpkin patch in back of the house when he asked her, “What really happened in the restaurant to make you run away to Virgin River?”

She took a breath. “There’s a long answer and a short answer to that one. The long answer involves years of education, culinary training and apprenticeships in several different countries, including the U.S., with the single primary goal of rising to the position of chef de cuisine or head chef in a major restaurant and then being a partner in a very well known, five-star restaurant. Every institute I studied in or kitchen I worked in was crazy. The competition was always brutal, the personal relationships were complex and often destructive and dysfunctional…”

“Hollywood can be like that,” he said.

She stopped walking. “Yeah. I bet. We should compare notes…”

“Your notes first, Kelly,” he urged. “Go on.”

“Hm. It takes a certain kind of person to make it in that life—a person with nerves of steel, confidence that’s immune to constant criticism, single-minded goals, a profound determination and belief that you will ultimately not only survive but win the war—and it is a war. On top of that you’d better have a very strong support team to watch your back. Of course at the same time it’s a jealous, competitive business and no one trusts anyone. Everyone is trying to rise to the top. I didn’t realize it was taking its toll until I crashed on the job—passed out and had to be taken to the hospital. Scared me to death.” She stopped walking through the beautiful big orange pumpkins and said, “I’m a great chef.”

“I know,” he said with a smile. “I’m a witness.”

“I’m so organized, it would scare you. I have good instincts about the use of food. And, I truly and honestly believe I could run a big kitchen without all that insanity. In fact, if I had the chance and could hire the manager, I could run the whole house without craziness!”

“I believe you.”

“But I bet I’m kidding myself if I think I’m going to get the chance. My biggest chance on the horizon was Luca. One of the first things I loved about him was that he was not insane. When he came to the kitchen, the whole place fell into order. No one dared raise a voice or argue with him. He was more than a mentor, he was a role model. He promised me a shot at leading one of his five-star restaurants. And you know what happened there.”

“That might not be the only route to your success, Kelly,” he said.

“Maybe not. But right now the economy is down, big fancy restaurants are struggling. When I find my next job, it’s not going to be as classy as La Touche.”

“I’ve actually eaten there, you know,” he told her.

“Not really!”

“Really. Might’ve been before your time.”

“Do you remember what you thought of it?”

“I thought it was arrogant and nouveau. Making people who have had reservations for weeks or months wait two hours for a table? Stupid arbitrary move—trying to make the establishment rather than the fare appear high-end. The waitstaff was good but the management should get people to their tables. A really good restaurant relies on their food. As I recall, the food was good, but I’d never go back.”

“That’s what I think, exactly. I bet you hardly remember the meal because you were pissed at the treatment!”

“So in a word, what would you say was the main issue?”

“No quality of life,” she said. “After over fourteen years of hard work, I wasn’t getting any closer to my goal, didn’t have friends, didn’t have a lover, didn’t get to create my best work in the kitchen. What did I have besides high blood pressure? Jillian at least has giant pumpkins. I walked out. I usually plan my life years in advance—but I just walked out.”

He smiled at her. “I think you’re very smart. Now,” he said, looking around, “what are we doing here?”

“I’m going to pick some acorn squash. I have a squash bisque that will kill you, it’s so good. I also have a tomato bisque that’s heaven on earth. I like to serve it with a gourmet grilled cheese—something with roasted red peppers.”

“Sounds perfect. Courtney has a homework date at Amber’s house on Thursday night,” he said, pulling her against him.

“Why do I feel like I’m cutting class to make out?”

He laughed at her. “Because you are! If I can just get my daughter on track, I’ll have more freedom to move around in. But I’ll take what I can get—and for now I’m so grateful for that homework date, I’m breaking out in a sweat.”

Their next unofficial date was to the river on a beautiful October afternoon. He had all his fishing gear with him, but instead he spread a blanket and they sat together near the river’s edge, talking. He kissed her and said, “I’m counting on you to tell me when this is no longer a rebound. It’s probably too soon for you to get involved with a man.”

“I don’t know that there is a rebound situation,” she explained. “If there is, it’s probably all in my head. I can see now that I nurtured a lot of fantasies about Luca—his importance in the food world is pretty sexy and overwhelming to someone like me. He’s a handsome, influential man. I think his power attracted me. And then there was his attempted seduction.”

Lief lifted a brow, tilted his head and asked, “Attempted seduction?”

“Oh, I was totally hooked. I adored him. But I must have been out of my mind. He’s not only one of the most successful and important chefs in the world, he has a huge family. If all my fantasies had come true and I’d ended up as his second wife, they would have tortured me. As it is, I couldn’t even get a message to him through his assistants. Can you imagine what it would have been like?”