Ask Anyone by Sherryl Woods

“Can you stop this?”
    â€œNot a chance. My wife is an independent woman. So is your sister. You don’t have a prayer, my friend.”
    Bobby scowled at Anna-Louise. “I could pray about this, couldn’t I? And a benevolent God would take pity on me, right?”
    She grinned. “Maybe. Maybe not. It all depends onwhat He has in mind for you. He might have sent Jenna down here in the first place just to shake you out of the doldrums.”
    â€œIf He did, it was a mean trick,” Bobby retorted.
    â€œNo, in that case, it was a divine plan,” she countered. “Pay attention to it.”
    Bobby shot a commiserating look at Richard. “And you live with this kind of reasoning all the time? I feel for you.”
    Richard chuckled and put an arm around his wife’s waist as he steered her toward the door. “It has its compensations,” he said. “And since we’re already married, she doesn’t have to meddle in my love life.”
    Bobby laughed as he watched them leave, but as soon as they were out of sight, his expression sobered. For all of his tart comments, he envied what they had. He truly did.
    He just wasn’t sure he was ready to take the risks involved in trying to find something like it for himself. And even if he were, Jenna Kennedy would be the last person on earth he’d choose. He liked serenity, and the way he felt around her was anything but serene.
    Â 
    As he always did when he was stressed, Bobby retreated to the kitchen at the yacht center. The dinner rush was only an hour away, and he’d been in the middle of preparations when Richard had come by, ostensibly to get information about the stolen carousel horse. Since he’d come with Anna-Louise in tow, Bobby was a little suspicious of his real motives. Precious little of theirtime together had been spent talking about the theft. Once the conversation had veered off-course to the topic of Jenna, it had never gotten back on track again.
    As he walked into the kitchen, he found the air thick with the spicy scent of steamed shrimp and crabs. The pungent aroma of garlic for the night’s scampi special added to his sense of well-being. Based on the aromas alone, he was reassured that the food tonight would be incredible.
    This was his milieu. There was nothing he liked better than experimenting with ingredients, adding a dash of this herb or a sprinkling of that one to bring out the flavor of a dish in a whole new way.
    For a man who liked his life to be peaceful and calm, the commotion of a restaurant kitchen just before the crowds descended should have been disconcerting, but it suited him. He liked the bustle, the camaraderie, even the temperamental outbursts of his pastry chef, who was a perfectionist and tolerated nothing less from anyone coming into contact with the pies and cakes and light-as-air confections he created. The concept of great meals being orchestrated out of confusion was satisfying to him.
    Bobby moved from counter to gleaming counter, from oven to oven, to check on the progress of the night’s specials. Everything looked as delicious as it smelled. He clapped his hands and caught everyone’s attention.
    â€œWe’re booked to capacity tonight,” he announced. “Let’s everybody stay calm and focused and make this a memorable evening all the way around.”
    Suddenly the eyes that had been trained on him shifted their focus at the sound of a door opening.
    â€œSo, this is where you spend your time when you’re not trying to bribe people into leaving town,” a honeyed voice said.
    He’d discovered all too recently that only one person had a voice like that, only one had the capacity to make his blood pound, only one had the temerity to invade his space—Jenna. How could she possibly be back already? Bobby had been counting on having at least a few days to mentally prepare for her return. Her overnight return caught him