Undercover Cook

Gabe pulled the door open. The quail instantly took cover in a juniper bush. “Why in the hell would I want to take cooking lessons?” he asked as he grabbed the bag of seeds off the bookcase by the door.

Because I want to take them.

“Lois says you guys need to eat better. This is one way to do that.”

“I’m eating just fine.”

“You’re downing too much salt and fat. She said your blood pressure has redlined a couple times. If you don’t start eating right, she’s going to sentence you to the cafeteria.”

“When did this happen?” Gabe asked, shaking his head before reaching into the bag and tossing a handful of seeds out into the grass.

“What?”

“When did I hit the point in my life when I have to be treated like a damned child?” He didn’t look at Nick, just threw more seeds, his movements jerky. Angry.

Nick didn’t have an answer for that. His grandfather was a seventy-five-year-old heart-attack survivor. After the heart attack it became apparent that living alone in his north Reno home was no longer a possibility, so Nick had helped him sell the house and move into the Candlewood Center, an assisted-living facility that would allow him the most personal freedom. It cost a bundle, but Gabe had made a huge profit on the house, which allowed him to pay the fees and still have money in the bank.

Not a bad outcome, except for the part where Gabe resented being told what to do.

He did okay with community living, and had made several friends. But while he happily played poker, took the weekly trip to the golf course, sat in front of the huge TV and ate low-sodium popcorn while watching sports with his friends, he steadfastly refused to partake in the meal plan offered by the facility.

After Gabe had balked, so had a couple of his new buddies. Their rebellion was driving the woman in charge of health care in Gabe’s block of apartments crazy as their blood pressures inched up. Fortunately, Lois was no pushover and had come up with this cooking-lesson angle as a way to get the guys to eat healthier meals.

And when she’d mentioned her plan to Nick—in hopes that he’d convince his grandfather, the ringleader, to cooperate—he’d had the happy suggestion that perhaps she’d like to contact Tremont Catering, which was less than a mile away, and see if they could rent their large kitchen for the lessons. It made more sense than trying to squeeze all the participants into the relatively tiny cafeteria kitchen at the facility.

The only downside was that instead of simply renting the kitchen, the Tremonts had insisted on being involved with the lessons. Nick would have preferred to have the place to himself, in order to snoop around while Lois did her thing, but this was definitely better than nothing.

“I’m not going to live forever,” Gabe said, pushing the door shut. Little quail heads appeared out of the juniper. “But while I am alive, I want to eat decent food.”

“That’s what the class is all about. Taking stuff you love and making it healthier.”

“Making it taste like cardboard, you mean. Your grandmother went on a health-food craze once. Let me tell you, that stuff she made with those healthy—” Gabe’s mouth twisted into a disdainful sneer “—recipes was awful. And you know your grandmother was a damned fine cook.”

Nick’s grandparents had divorced long before Nick had been born and Gabe rarely talked about the woman who’d left him. It was interesting that he appreciated what a fine cook she’d been. “Things have changed.” Nick assumed they’d changed, anyway.

He knew nothing about cooking, other than frying up the occasional steak. Everything he ate came from the freezer or a take-out bag.

“I was kind of hoping you’d take the lessons for my sake.”

“Your sake?” Gabe sounded surprised, then his expression shifted. “There’s no possibility that an attractive woman might be teaching these lessons, is there?”

Not that again.

Nick toyed with the idea of simply saying yes, but heaven only knew what his grandfather would do then. Nightmare scenarios shot through his head.

Nick’s wife, Miri, had died more than two years ago in a car accident and Gabe, who’d adored her, had grieved along with Nick. But after a year and a half had passed and Nick had remained buried in his work, with no social life and showing no sign of changing his ways, his grandfather had grown impatient. It was time for Nick to move on, “join the land of the living” as Gabe put it.

Nick was in the land of the living; he’d finally gotten over the raw pain of losing his wife, but he felt no desire whatsoever to try to fill the void she’d left in his life. Yes, the void was dark and unfulfilling, but it didn’t hurt. Why fill it with something that might cause him pain later?

“I want to learn some cooking techniques, Granddad,” he said in an exasperated voice. “Not flirt with the instructor.”

Gabe’s mouth twisted in annoyance. “Take your own damned lessons, then. Leave me out of it.”

“Darn it, Granddad. Stop being so effing stubborn.”

“Effing? In my day, we just came out and said—”

“I’m trying to be polite.”

“Why aren’t you at work?” Gabe suddenly asked.

Nick rolled his eyes. He wasn’t going to explain about his tool of a lieutenant or the reason he’d been suspended. For one thing, it was embarrassing. For another, Gabe would want every detail leading up to the suspension, and Nick wasn’t discussing the matter. Nick did not have a short fuse, but he’d been hot with the lieutenant. A little too hot. He honestly had a soft spot for the kid who’d been feeding them information and had then so abruptly disappeared. Wanted to look into the matter instead of having it shoved onto the back burner in favor of easier and more high-profile cases—such as busting drugs near the campus. Maybe they hadn’t made much headway in eight months, but in light of what had happened, pulling them entirely off the case made no sense, either.

“Different assignment, different hours,” he said dismissively. Gabe narrowed his eyes thoughtfully and Nick was suddenly reminded of all the times he’d unsuccessfully tried to pull a fast one on the old guy when he’d been a kid. “Come on, Granddad. Take the lessons. I want you to join, since I know jack about cooking, and I can’t if you don’t.”

“You want to take the lessons? You want to learn to make old-people food?”

“I want to learn to cook something healthy so I don’t end up having a heart attack.”

Gabe scowled at him, then shoved a hand through his thick white hair. “That’s dirty pool.”

“Only two of the guys have signed up, but more will if you do. And I honestly want to go.”

Gabe grunted, setting the birdseed bag down on the small table next to the window. “Sign me the hell up, then. You’re not going to rest until you do.”

“No. I’m not. It’s a win-win.”

Gabe then said the word that Nick had avoided in the name of politeness.

NICK WANTED TO take cooking lessons? Ha. Nick wanted to maneuver his grandfather into doing something he didn’t want to do and wasn’t above using emotional blackmail. Gabe still wasn’t quite sure why he’d let himself get wrangled into these lessons, except that it was obvious Nick had an ulterior motive and Gabe was curious as to what it was. Too bad it wasn’t the one he’d suggested—a cute teacher his grandson wanted to get to know.

Nick had changed since his wife had died. Drawn into himself, which was to be expected under the circumstances, and thrown himself into his work to deal with the grief. But after two years, he was still withdrawn, still totally focused on work and nothing but work, which worried Gabe.

He’d done the same back in his prime, after his wife had left him. And the result had not been good—in fact it had cost him dearly—and now here he was, alone, stuck in an old folks’ home. And he didn’t even have any decent memories to keep him company. The only thing that helped was that he was with some of his own kind. Lenny Hartman, the old son of a bitch, had been in law enforcement down in Vegas, and Paul Meyer had been a firefighter until he retired.

Both men had checked into Candlewood voluntarily, after their wives had passed away, something Gabe would never understand. He’d hung on to his independence until the last possible moment—where it was either Candlewood or Nick moving in with him after the heart attack. Nick had offered. Gabe had declined. His grandson needed to be in a position to get on with his life, and living with a cranky grandfather was not conducive to bringing home a hot woman.

Gabe walked over to his computer and brought up a screen, pleased that he was feeling a lot more comfortable using the contraption. For years he’d put off learning to use one, had allowed himself to be intimidated even though Nick had given him a laptop, until that damned Lois had forced him and the other guys into taking a basic class just a few months ago.

He couldn’t remember seeing a more intimidated group of men than he and his fellow inmates when they’d first settled in front of the computer screens at the community-college technology lab. Lenny’s first official act had been to pour coffee over his keyboard by “accident,” only to find that all the instructor had to do was unplug that keyboard, set it out to dry and plug in another.

After that they decided resistance was futile and discovered, grudgingly, that, yes, a computer could change a guy’s life. Open his world.

Make it seem less like he was in stir.

Gabe sat in his chair—an ergonomic model Nick had given him for Christmas instead of the recliner he really wanted, a blatant effort to get him to learn to use the laptop. He had to admit, though, that he liked the chair and because of it spent more hours on the computer than he had ever expected.

Which was how he knew that Nick didn’t even have a Facebook page. How in the hell was he going to socialize if he didn’t have the gumption to sign up for a social network?

Somehow Gabe had to come up with a way to kick his grandson in the ass and make him get on with his life—to not make the same damned mistakes Gabe had made in the name of professional achievement.

And fear.

CHAPTER TWO

EDEN TOOK A moment to survey her class: seven men of varying shapes and sizes, their ages ranging from sixty to eighty, and two younger guys. One of the latter was tall and thin, with a pale complexion, dark hair and a know-it-all expression. The other, standing next to an elderly man with an almost identical jaw and nose, was taller, broader, and also dark haired. Every now and then he would cut his eye toward the first young guy and frown slightly.

Tall, sturdy Lois, who had first contacted Eden about renting the kitchen, hovered at the periphery, keeping a close eye on her charges. During their initial conversation she had admitted that her own cooking skills were closer to survival level than teaching level, so Eden had offered to help with the class. Two hours a week for six weeks in the slower part of their catering year—March and early April—seemed like a decent way to give back to the community.

Lois had done all the groundwork, polling the men to find out what they wanted to learn, figuring out balanced menus with the help of a nutritionist, strong-arming a few of the guys into coming for their own health and well-being. All Eden had to do was instruct. Making food was empowering, and she enjoyed helping people move from intimidation to enthusiasm in the kitchen. She sensed that with this group, however, she might have her work cut out for her.

Several of the men appeared less than happy to be here, and Lois had told her that some had never fended for themselves before losing their wives. They ate whatever was handy, usually unhealthy fare. As for the younger two…Eden had no idea why they were there. Chaperones, perhaps?

“Shall we get started?” she asked as she walked over to the station where her demonstration was laid out.

Her remark was met by total silence. Finally a short, gnarled guy in a red plaid shirt growled, “What the hell. Why don’t we?”

Hearing Lois inhale deeply behind her, Eden smiled to herself. This guy she liked.

“WE’RE GOING TO begin with eggs,” Eden Tremont said. She was small and blond with cheerleader good looks. All the guys, even Gabe, seemed to be standing a little taller now that she’d started the class. “For some of you,” she said, “this may be new, for others it’s not, but practice never hurt anyone.”

Nick glanced to his left and then gritted his teeth. Again.

What in the hell was Marcus doing here?

Studiously avoiding his eyes, that’s what, which made Nick nervous. Marcus had somehow adopted Lenny, one of Gabe’s closer friends and an ex-cop, and was working at the counter right next to Nick and Gabe.

Eden quickly demonstrated what she wanted the guys to do, then set them loose and started circulating, calling out instructions. Gabe stood staring at his bowl. Nick shifted his weight impatiently, but kept his mouth shut, having learned a long time ago how to handle his grandfather.

“She said whip the eggs until they have some air in them, kid,” Lenny said to Marcus, whose hand was a blur as he beat his eggs with a fork, “not turn them into a foamy mess.”

Gabe exhaled heavily and morosely broke an egg, reaching into the bowl with one of his thick fingers to try and get out a piece of eggshell. He cursed under his breath.

“Gimme another egg,” he said after wiping his hand on a paper towel. Nick handed him another from the carton they were sharing with Lenny and Marcus. As soon as he could get Marcus alone…

“Don’t you want to join in?” Eden Tremont asked from behind him.

He turned. “I, uh, am just here with my granddad.”

“You can still cook.”

“I haven’t paid for the food or anything.”

“I’ll bill you,” Eden said. “I’m billing him.” She jerked her head toward Marcus, who was now ahead of everyone else and pouring his eggs into a pan. They practically exploded on contact.

“Too hot,” Eden said, stepping over to lower the heat under the pan. “Everyone, please make sure your burner is set on low heat.”

“I thought you said you were here to learn to cook, so you wouldn’t have a heart attack like I did,” Gabe said.

“I can learn by watching.”

Eden came back and set a clean skillet on the counter in front of Nick. “Use this pan. Cook some eggs. Make your grandfather happy.”

Gabe gave a soft snort as he started stirring his eggs in the bowl. A few minutes later, he said, “You know, she’s cute.”

“Yeah.”

His grandfather tapped the spoon on the side of the bowl. “Aren’t you ever going to start looking again?”

Nick sucked in a breath. It’d been over two years since he’d lost his wife in a car wreck. And no, he hadn’t started looking again. “This isn’t the time to discuss this, Granddad.”

“When is?”

Nick shook his head and reached for an egg. He cracked it on the side of the counter and the whole thing blew up in his hand, splattering yolk on his shirt and pants.

“Good one,” Marcus said.

Nick gave him a shut-up-or-you’ll-be-wearing-an-egg look. The accountant took the hint and went back to his stirring.

“Thin-shelled egg,” Eden Tremont said from behind Nick. “They need to feed the chickens more calcium.”

“Good to know,” he said, glancing down at the yolk spots on his pants. Eden smiled at him and he smiled back, wondering what it would take to get her to trust him.

“The cleanup towels are over there by the sink. Just throw them into that container when you’re done.”

“Will do. Thanks.”

“This is lame,” Gabe said as he poured his eggs into the pan, but Nick noticed he was smiling a little. His grandfather had never been much of a cook.

“Maybe,” Nick said, “but I learned some things about eggs.” Such as milk wasn’t good to use for scrambled eggs. Water was better.

Once they finished cooking, Eden talked about various kinds of bacon—beef, turkey, pork and a soy product she called bacon-oid. The guys got a kick out of that one, but when she offered them a taste they seemed to think it was a reasonable alternative for those who couldn’t eat regular bacon due to the high-fat and sodium content.

Lois had nodded with happy satisfaction during the mini lecture. Indeed, the old guys seemed more prone to listening to a pretty and petite blonde than to a woman who looked as if she could wrestle them into submission if they didn’t eat right.

While Eden was talking, Nick pretended to pay attention as he debated which of those closed door across the room might hold a computer and how he could get at it. There was a computer in the front reception area, but he doubted it was linked to financial accounts. He would check it out, though. When he got the chance. It probably wouldn’t be during cooking lessons, due to the open layout of the place.

Every now and again he caught Marcus shooting small glances his way. Another problem.

Oh, yeah. He and Marcus were going to have a discussion, and soon, because Nick was damned afraid of what the accountant might be up to. Especially after assuring Daphne he was not a dweeb.

As soon as class ended and Lois started the guys toward the bus, Nick said goodbye to his grandfather and sprinted a few feet to intercept Marcus on the way to his car.

“Why are you here?”

His colleague adjusted his glasses and squared his shoulders. “I have my reasons.”

“Why don’t you share them with me?” Nick’s worst nightmare was that Marcus was here on some kind of an I’ll-show-you mission.

“I want to learn to cook.”

“I’m going to count to three....” Nick said.

Marcus’s eyes got wider behind the lenses of his glasses. “All right. I came here thinking that maybe I could ask Eden Tremont out to coffee or something. Get to know her.”

This was his way of manning up? Proving he wasn’t a dweeb? Nick could live with that—he just didn’t know if Eden could.

“I thought I might be able to come up with a way to get at her computers personally, review the information, and save you the trouble of trying to hack in and download,” the accountant added.

Nick’s eyebrows rose. How had Marcus planned to do that? Maybe while Eden was in bed asleep, after an invigorating romp?

His mouth went flat. “I can see, though, that I’m not her type.”

“Yeah?” Nick asked. “How can you see that?”

“Because she was ogling you.”

Nick snorted. Ogling? Somehow he had missed that, and he didn’t miss much. But it had been a while since his woman radar had been up. Two years this past January.

“Therefore,” Marcus said smugly, “the obvious solution is for you to get to know her better. And I can help.”

“Please don’t help,” Nick said instantly.

“Too late.” He gave one of his superior smiles. “I’ve already laid the groundwork.”

“What groundwork?” Nick growled.

Marcus simply smirked and then started for his car without giving an answer, leaving Nick staring after him.

Groundwork… He hadn’t had time to lay any, whatever the hell he had in mind. Nick had been within a few feet of Marcus the entire night, and other than a couple quick conversations with Eden… The guy was delusional.

And a pain. “Hey!” Nick shouted. Marcus turned back. “How’d you hook up with Lenny?”

His colleague shrugged. “I stopped by Candlewood and asked the woman if I could put in some community service hours. Told her I worked for Reno PD, and showed her my credentials.”

“Well…it worked.”

“I know,” Marcus said smugly, before turning back toward his car.

GABE STOOD NEXT to the van, between the vehicle and the sidewalk, not exactly eager to settle himself in one of the uncomfortable seats, and heartily wishing that Lois would hurry up already. But he could see her through the kitchen window, still talking to Eden Tremont, the cute teacher who’d been watching Nick all night. Just as Nick had been watching her.

Gabe felt a stirring of hope. As far as he knew, Nick hadn’t shown any kind of interest in a woman since Miri, and he’d definitely been focused on the teacher tonight.

Gabe smiled a little as he recalled Nick telling him he wasn’t taking the class because of the teacher. Ha. So much for that. This was a good beginning and Gabe was going to see to it that Nick and the teacher got some alone time.

But right now he was tired and wanted to go home.

He resisted the urge to knock on the window to hurry Lois along and instead started up the steps into the van. Once he got into the van and took his seat beside Lenny, he could see that Nick hadn’t left yet. He was on the far side of the parking lot talking to that dark haired guy who’d attached himself to Lenny.

“So who was your little helper?” Gabe asked.

“Damned if I know,” Lenny said, half turning in his seat. He reached up to stroke the edge of his mustache, as if he was a detective solving a case in an old movie. Drove Gabe crazy when he did that. “Marcus somebody. He just showed up and told Lois he wanted to help out.”

“And adopted you.”

“Guess he knew talent when he saw it.”

Gabe snorted.

“You know what I think?” Lenny asked in his gravelly voice.

“No way of knowing,” Gabe replied sharply.

One last stroke of the mustache. “I think he’s hot on the teacher. Couldn’t take his eyes offa her. Probably doing this to get to know her better.” Lenny smiled. “Clever.”

“Oh, give me a break,” Gabe muttered. “That’s not clever. It’s so obvious that…well…it’s just obvious.”

“Nick was watching her, too.”

Gabe sucked a short breath in between his teeth. He didn’t want his grandson to be as obvious as that Marcus kid.

“You’d have to be blind not to watch her,” Gabe said. “In case you didn’t notice, she’s an eyeful.” And exactly what his Nick needed to ease back into life—a spunky, beautiful girl, who knew how to cook.

Even though he thought Nick had a much better shot at catching her eye than Marcus did, he was now feeling a whole lot better about setting things up so that the two of them had a chance to talk again—without eight other guys and hawkeyed Lois there to watch them.

“YOU WERE WONDERFUL with them,” Lois said after the last guy had taken off his apron and headed out to the Candlewood van. As near as Eden could tell after two meetings, Lois didn’t smile much, but she was smiling now. “I think this program could really take off.”

Eden’s eyes must have gone wide because Lois quickly added, “No, we won’t take advantage of you. But this could be just what we need to talk the shareholders into building a decent-size cafeteria on the premises.” She reached out and patted Eden on the shoulder. “I’ll be in contact about next week’s meal.”

Eden went with her to the door, pausing at the window to watch Nick walking back toward his black SUV, while Marcus got into his sports car. Odd pair. Marcus had chatted her up while he’d cooked his second pan of eggs, explaining that he was an accounts analyst and that his friend Nick was in home security. Both of them worked long hours and this was a great opportunity to spend time with their elderly relatives.

It had been a lot of information crammed into a very short conversation.

And now Marcus didn’t seem to be getting along too well with his friend. Obviously they’d had a discussion, and not a happy one from the look on Nick’s face. He glanced up as he approached his vehicle, and his eyes met hers through the glass. There was a frozen moment of connection before he looked away and opened the car door, his expression taut. Businesslike.

Feeling oddly unsettled, she turned as he got in his SUV, and went to finish closing down the kitchen.

“IT’S GOING TO be a surprise!” Tina Ballard said, leaning on the counter in the Tremont kitchen reception area, her gold bracelets rattling on the granite surface. Her younger son, Jed, stood behind her, jangling his car keys and generally looking bored as only a teenage kid could.