Page 7 of The Sweet Chef and the Corporate Queen

"Really?"

"No, they're actually James and Robert. But don't tell anyone."

Her laughter echoes through the kitchen, bright and uninhibited, and I catch myself wondering what it would take to make her mother laugh like that too.

Chapter Three

Jules

"Mommy, can I go to the kitchen again today? Please?"

It's 7:15 a.m., and Mia's already dressed, hair brushed, and practically vibrating with excitement. I haven't even finished my first coffee.

"Sweetie, Declan probably doesn't start work this early," I say, scrolling through my emails. Twelve new messages since I checked before bed last night. "Besides, Zoe is working on finding us a replacement nanny. She might have news today."

Mia's face falls. "But I want to help make breakfast. Declan said I could learn how to make special pancakes today."

I look up from my phone, studying my daughter's eager expression. In New York, I practically have to drag her out of bed for school. Here, she's up before my alarm, asking to go work in a kitchen.

"When did he tell you that?" My last check-in with them yesterday had been during the pre-dinner rush, when Mia was carefully arranging garnishes on salad plates.

"At dinner. When you were talking to that man with the shiny bald head."

"Mr. Rothstein. My CFO," I correct automatically. "And you shouldn't call out people's physical features."

"Sorry." She bounces on her toes, undeterred. "So can I go? Please?"

My phone pings with a text from Zoe:Still working on nanny situation. Top candidate can't travel until Friday.

Friday. Three more days of this childcare improvisation. I suppress a sigh.

"Let me call down to the kitchen first and see if Declan's even there."

Mia claps her hands, already celebrating her victory.

I don't have the lodge kitchen's direct line, so I call the front desk. A cheerful voice answers on the second ring.

"Mountain Laurel Lodge, this is Jameson. How can I help you?"

"This is Jules Sinclair in the Maple Suite. I'm trying to reach Declan in the kitchen."

"Oh, Ms. Sinclair! Declan mentioned you might call. He's already prepping breakfast and said to let him know Mia is welcome anytime. Would you like me to transfer you?"

Of course he anticipated this. "Yes, please."

There's a brief pause, then the sound of kitchen bustle fills the background before Declan's voice comes through, warm and surprisingly alert for this hour.

"Morning, Ms. Sinclair. Let me guess. You have an eager sous chef ready to report for duty?"

Despite myself, I feel a smile tugging at my lips. "How did you know?"

"Call it a hunch. Send her down whenever you're ready. Main entrance is unlocked, and I've got a special apron with her name on it."

"You bought her an apron?" I ask, surprised.

His laugh is easy, genuine. "Just wrote her name on one of ours with fabric marker. Nothing fancy."

I glance at Mia, who's practically dancing with impatience. "That's very thoughtful of you. But I can't keep imposing on your workday like this."

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