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listening again. “I have to make a fresh start at the beginning of the second semester. I just have to.”
    Mike nodded, fiddling with his napkin to keep his eyes off her face. “You will. You did the right thing,” he said, and there he was, gazing at her again. “You figured out you’d made a mistake and you did something about it before you invested too much in it to quit.”
    “I guess,” she said, “but I feel better when I have a plan.”
    “You’ll have a new plan in no time at all.” He had to stop wanting to touch her. He was behaving like an idiot. So he’d start babbling like an idiot instead. “I’d always wanted to be a chef, and when I got tired of being yelled at by pretentious chefs dreaming up pretentious food to serve to pretentious people, I decided instead to open a down-home diner. I was scared out of my wits. What if I replumbed this place, redid the electrical system, decorated it and bought all that kitchen equipment—and then it failed? My only option would have been to drown myself in vinaigrette.”
    Instead of laughing, she looked at him in a way that made his heart pound. “But you didn’t fail. The diner’s doing great.”
    Something in her voice touched him. She sounded as proud as if the diner belonged to her. “Yeah, actually it is. I don’t know why or how.”
    “I do.” She smiled. “Great food, a staff that loves working for you…”
    “I work them to the bone,” he said.
    “So I’ve noticed.” Her smile was warm and rich.
    Scrounging desperately for some impersonal small talk and coming up with nothing, he was deeply relieved when their breakfast plates showed up. It pleased him no end to see how enthusiastically Allie dug in.
     
    “T HIS BISCUIT is too good to be true,” Allie said, spreading the homemade strawberry preserves Mike bought from a local woman on top of enough butter to block even the healthiest aorta. “Barney got it right for sure.”
    “Want another one?”
    “No, please, no. I’m going to have to run to Holman and back to work off this one.”
    She was glad to be home. Glad to be working for Mike. Hanging around with him had always made her feel good about herself. He teased her, laughed with her—he was like the big brother she’d never had.
    Yes, just like a brother. She’d been, thank goodness, a sensible enough girl not to get a crush on her boss, so they’d had an easy friendship. She hoped they could go right back to it as if time hadn’t passed, but she realized she was noticing things about him now that she hadn’t all those years ago. How green his eyes were. That his light-brown lashes were thick and long. That his body was lean but powerful-looking, and his shoulders had that broad, muscular look that made you feel safe when he was around.
    She suddenly didn’t feel safe and dragged her thoughts away from Mike’s body. He’d invited her to breakfast to talk about menus, and she felt it was definitely time to get started. “I’m so glad you can cater the benefit dinner. It’ll be an affair to remember.”
    Good grief, could she have said anything more Freudian? She’d never for a moment dreamed of having an affair with Mike. She barreled on. “I haven’t spoken to Daniel’s wife about the details yet, but it’ll be a seated dinner, so the sky’s the limit where the menu is concerned. I thought we’d spend about forty-five minutes just standing around talking, so do you think some simple hors d’oeuvres would be in order? We’ll hire valley kids to serve, of course—”
    Mike was listening intently, the gleam of his amazing eyes heightened by the morning sun coming through the windows. “Yes, definitely hors d’oeuvres, scattered around on a few tables. Incidentally, the food and labor will be my contribution, so don’t worry about the cost. I was thinking beef Wellington, potatoes Anna, roasted asparagus, sautéed grape tomatoes as a surprise, an endive salad to start and a knock-’em-dead dessert