Her New Boss: A Rouge Erotic Romance by Michelle M. Pillow Page A

and
Renée
sounded French. It wasn’t her specialty, but she could do it. She
would
do it.
    ‘Yes. I am the new head chef.’ Zoe lifted her chin, trying not to let her nervousness show. She had to keep a brave front, had to make everyone believe she knew she could do this when in truth she wasn’t so sure. What if she failed? What if Jackson hated her cooking? What if no one ate at the restaurant and she was the first Jackson Levy venture to fail miserably? She’d never get into another kitchen again.
    ‘You all right, ma’am?’ the driver asked. ‘You’re whiter than Sunday linen.’
    More of the dream surfaced. Her body had been covered in cream and Jackson had decorated her with pieces of fruit before slowly eating his way over her body without his hands. The wave of desire that flooded her made her actually gasp in shock.
    ‘Fine,’ she lied. ‘It was a long flight. Can you tell me if Mr Levy will be there?’
    ‘Jacky boy? I don’t rightly know, ma’am. His sister called me and asked me to pick you up from the airport. She’s a good girl, that Callie.’
    ‘His sister lives here?’ Zoe asked in surprise. She really knew nothing about the man aside from his work reputation.
    ‘His whole family moved to Dabery when those Levy kids were just young children barely out of diapers.’ The man glanced at her through the rear-view mirror, smiling kindly as he gossiped. ‘They have lived here ever since, more or less. Jackson’s been good to this town and owns a place outside city limits. The baby of the family, Jefferson, left for awhile but is back now. And Callie, the oldest, settled with a local boy right out of high school. They have three boys now – Tommy, Sammy and Peanut – ornery little rascals.’
    ‘And his wife?’ Zoe probed, finding herself holding her breath. Peanut? Jackson had a nephew named Peanut?
    ‘No, ma’am, he never did marry. We keep hoping, but no wedding bells yet. Though Jefferson is engaged to a fine lady from Savannah. I met her at the church potluck a couple weeks ago.’
    Zoe had a feeling she could get lots of information about Jackson from this man, but refrained from probing further. Instead , she turned her attention out the window. Trees thinned, opening up to a sloping valley. Nestled along the hillside were houses and farms, as beautiful as a painting. Horses grazed behind stark-white wooden fences, their sleek bodies gleaming in the sunlight. A red barn stood over a shorter brown building with black iron gates. Tall pines swallowed little trails that led off into their shadowed sanctuary, the limbs not as covered with moss as they had been earlier along the road.
    ‘This can’t be right. The restaurant is here? But this is …’ Zoe rolled down her car window, sticking her head out to look around. The smell of pine assaulted her, mixed with fresh air and dust. Eerie quiet surrounded them, punctured only by the sound of the car engine. To herself, she finished, ‘This place is too small.’
    ‘Is it done?’ Jackson asked, leaning against Mac’s car. He’d known the old man since he was a boy and Mac looked the same now as he had then, down to the arthritic hands. The only difference was a pronounced limp when he walked, the legacy of having fallen off a horse while drunk. Jackson made sure the man always had work with local stables and odd jobs around town.
    ‘Sure is, boss,’ the man said.
    ‘Good.’ Jackson discreetly handed the man a couple of hundred dollars before pushing up from his car. The warm spring air scented with wildflowers drifted from the forest behind Marta’s Twelfth Street Bed and Breakfast. Trails led from the back of the house into the oak and pecan trees, to a little pond and creek hidden from those not familiar with the area. Bass fishing, camping, hunting and hiking were popular pastimes for the residents of Dabery and they did not share their secret haunts with outsiders. It wasn’t unusual for people to see deer grazing along