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vacation in three years. Have you ever been to Tahiti?”
    “Tahiti? No. Bali. Fiji. The Philippines. Trust me, I understand the appeal of a tropical holiday after a long winter. Why didn’t you just say no?”
    “Say no to the illustrious James MacDonald? I wouldn’t dream of it.”
    He laughed, and she couldn’t deny she found the sound appealing. Deep, warm, free. It twined itself into her middle and radiated warmth into her chest. She tamped the feeling down. That response was just the sort of distraction she didn’t need.
    “You had no idea who I was. That much was obvious last night. Why didn’t you just say you were taking time off? With your sales record, I doubt you’d get sacked.”
    “No, probably not. Passed over for promotion, maybe. I’ve worked too hard and too long for a chance at VP to throw it away over a vacation.”
    “So I’m standing between you and a corner office? That puts a bit of pressure on me.”
    Maybe she shouldn’t have been so frank about her objectives. Somehow, her mouth always seemed to run away with her where he was concerned. “I hope it doesn’t put pressure on me.”
    “I already told you, I compartmentalize well. Tell me, Ms. Sullivan , how did you get into the business in the first place?”
    No harm in answering that question. He could pick up almost as much from reading her biography on Morrison’s website. “I worked in pharmaceutical sales to put myself through my MBA at Cornell, but it was too hard to keep up with classes when I traveled. One of my professors mentioned a market research position at Morrison, I got the job, and you can guess the rest.”
    “Somehow I wouldn’t have pegged you for a researcher.”
    “Me neither. But I was good at it. I also worked in creative in London for six months before I decided I’d rather gouge my eyes out than sit in an office and write copy for one more second. By that time, I knew so much of the business, Michael—Mr. Halloran—figured I was better out front anyway.”
    “You’re their closer.”
    It was exactly what she was. She handled the largest and most difficult clients, because she never walked away without the deal. Until recently. She wasn’t about to admit it to him though. “Something like that. How about you? Did you always want to be a chef?”
    “Not always. I wanted to drive grand prix cars for a while. At some point, I may have conceived a plan to swim the English Channel.”
    “Seriously.”
    “I am being serious. But yes, my aunt taught me how to cook at a very young age, and I loved it. My mother, of course, wanted me to do something ‘useful.’ So I suffered through my business studies until I’d finally had enough and went to culinary school.”
    “Your mother doesn’t like what you do for a living?” Andrea asked in surprise.
    “Oh no. Quid pro quo. You can’t start questioning me about my mother unless you give me something that’s not on your CV.”
    “Not going to happen.” Andrea crossed her legs and planted her hands firmly in her lap.
    “You can start small. Your favorite color. Your favorite movie. Favorite television program.”
    She almost refused, but that was just silly. It wasn’t as if he were asking her to spill her deepest secrets. “All right. Purple, North by Northwest , and I don’t own a TV. Your turn.”
    “Hang on a moment. I want to explore this. We’ll ignore the fact that purple is a very girlish color for someone like you, though you wear it well. Why would you choose a movie that’s over sixty years old as your favorite?”
    “That wasn’t the deal. You asked, I answered. Now, why doesn’t your mother like what you do for a living?”
    James made a face. “She wanted me follow in my brother’s footsteps and become a lawyer. Or an investment consultant. Or anything respectable. In her mind, cooking in a restaurant is one step above being a servant. Owning said restaurant is only marginally better. Your turn, answer the question.”
    Andrea