How would she go about setting such a meeting? Simply send Justin an e-mail or put in a call? He wouldn’t believe her. He’d think she was making some sort of pathetic attempt to extort money from him. He’d demand tests and lawyers and papers and court documents. What kind of damage would all that do to Max’s psyche? She supposed she could send Justin a picture. Could he possibly deny those Travati eyes? Once he saw Max, could Justin question that the boy was his?
Once home, she quickly changed into a slim black pencil skirt and a blue blouse that glanced over her round curves. She swept her auburn curls up into a chignon and secured them with an emerald clip. Fire-red tendrils framed her face. A quick touch of blush, a swipe of mascara, and a dash of lipstick and she was out the farmhouse door and down the path to The Red Barn.
Nina texted that the early service went well, but the nine p.m. was a bumpy ride. The guests were on their third course and Nina had yet to leave the kitchen. Aubrey pushed open the glass door and walked into the main room. The bar was pristine with its hammered copper and hardwood and lovely river rock stone. Brandon, one of two bartenders at Rockwater Farms, nodded to her. She forced a smile to her lips. Fear about Max’s future exacerbated by fatigue pitted her stomach, but she had no time for self-indulgence. She’d taken off the entire day to get Max to camp, and Nina and The Red Barn deserved her focus.
She walked through the bar and past the kitchen and into the giant dining room with high rafters, floor-to-ceiling windows, low lighting, and candles. Wooden sculptures by Dad and clusters of branches decorated the main room and provided privacy and sound blocks for the forty-eight diners, tonight forty-nine with the plus one who had joined them for the late-dinner service.
She pulled in a long breath, focused her attention, and attempted to center herself. Her gaze skimmed the room. She searched for flaws in service, hints of anxiety in the staff, empty wineglasses, any little detail that could throw off the experience for a guest at The Red Barn. Each of the twelve tables appeared happy. She skirted the edge of the dining room, smiling and nodding and stopping to speak with the many guests who’d made the pilgrimage to The Red Barn to experience Chef Nina’s amazing cuisine. Repeat business was pulling them out of the red. Repeat business and weddings.
Once past table twelve, she looked up. They’d brought in an extra table this night for the Times’s food critic’s friend. The special guest. The VIP. Aubrey looked over past the branches and the hanging wooden mobile titled Flight by her father, toward this special guest.
Her heart stopped.
Golden-brown eyes locked with hers.
His jaw tightened.
Not a flicker of a smile. Not a hint of kindness.
She forced air into her lungs.
He raised an eyebrow.
Justin Travati could only be here for one reason … because he already knew about his son.
Chapter 5
The pull of Aubrey’s beauty held Justin’s gaze. She walked toward him, her green eyes sparkling in the candlelight. Her figure was still full of curves that she chose to embrace and not hide. Her breasts were a little fuller, her hips a bit rounder, but there was still her lush mouth, her fair skin, and that damn red hair. Fire red, curls framed her face. Desire thrust through him.
Damn Aubrey. A man’s body was a betrayal. How unfair that he could be angry and certain of his dislike for this woman, a onetime lover who’d stolen the one thing he could never have, and yet still want her. His sex grew thick. Desire thrummed between them as it had when they’d worked side by side years ago.
“Justin.” Her voice was cool and firm, but her eyelashes fluttered. She patted her hair with her hand. He remembered both movements. He’d watched her negotiate deals, and both were tiny tells he remembered. While her eyes and her voice didn’t betray her nervousness, the touch of her hand to her vibrant hair did. That damn hair. His eyes roamed over the red he remembered running through his fingertips, mesmerized by the color, the feel of her curls against his skin.
“Aubrey.” He stood and leaned forward. He pressed his lips to her cheek, a European greeting, but in that moment the press of his mouth to her flesh held more meaning than hello.
Her body stiffened. Heat thrilled through him and also through her. This attraction was too intense for her not to feel. A wicked smile pulsed around the corners of his lips. Yes, let her be uncomfortable. He wanted her off-balance. Perhaps even with a hint of fear. She’d taken from him, lied by omission, kept him away from his son.
He held her upper arm and kept her close. Her breathing was short, and the pulse in her neck fluttered like a hummingbird escaping a cat.