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felt like a bit player in a men’s cologne commercial. Her job was to watch the male model in question while staring with slack-jawed adoration. Any speaking parts would have to be played by someone with a functioning brain.
    Not good, she thought as her throat got tight, her thighs trembled and her already sensitive breasts seemed to strain toward him. Under the circumstances, a visceral reaction to her ex-husband seemed like a very bad idea.
    She wasn’t worried about them actually meaning anything. She was pregnant, which meant spending her days in a hormone bath. She teared up at Hallmark commercials, sobbed when little kids clutched puppies and generally wanted to send the world a candygram.
    Nope, whatever she felt this moment about Cal had nothing to do with him and everything to do with the pencil eraser-sized zygote in her tummy.
    But that didn’t mean she wasn’t fully capable of making a fool out of herself.
    She had to remind herself she was a big, bad chef with a reputation for being tough and difficult and something of a perfectionist. She worked with very sharp knives for a living. She could snap chicken bones with her bare hands.
    “Ready to take on the world?” Cal asked as he approached.
    “Sure. At least my little part of it.” She followed him toward the front door. “I’m going to need a key.”
    He reached in his pocket and pulled out a ring. “They’re marked. Front and back doors. All the storerooms. The wine cellar and liquor storage.”
    He unlocked the right side of the wood-and-glass double door, then stepped aside to let her enter. She pushed into the dim, open space, then wished she hadn’t when the smell hit her.
    “What is that?” she asked, waving her hand in front of her nose. The odor was an unfortunate combination of singed fur, decaying fish and meat and rotting wood.
    “It’s a little strong,” Cal admitted. “The storerooms weren’t cleaned out before the place was shut down. When I came by last week, the smell was worse.”
    She couldn’t imagine worse. As it was, she had to fight to keep from throwing up. In the nearly fourmonths she’d been pregnant, she’d never had a moment of nausea until now.
    Cal propped open the front doors and turned on the fans. “It’ll get better in a moment.”
    She rubbed her shoe against the carpet. “The stink isn’t going to come out with just a cleaning.”
    “I know. There’s hardwood everywhere in the dining room but here. We’ll refinish the floors, then replace this carpeting.”
    She hoped that would be enough.
    At least the space was good. High ceiling and big windows. People dining on the water generally wanted to look at the view. She saw large easels with renderings of the dining room. Cal stepped toward them.
    “As you can see, we’re making cosmetic changes. We don’t have time for a total remodel.”
    “Uh-huh.”
    Penny walked past him. The front of the store wasn’t her concern, nor did it interest her all that much. She had other places she would rather be—namely the kitchen.
    She walked to the back of the dining room and through the large, single swinging door. The smell was worse here, but she ignored it as she took in what would be her domain.
    At least it was clean, she thought as she looked at the large wood grill, the steamer, the eight burners, the ovens. There was the prep area, a long, stainless counter with a sink for salad, stacks of pots, sauté pans and bowls. She didn’t even have to close her eyes to know what it would be like. The blinding heatfrom the grill and the burners. The hiss of the steam, the yells of “order up” or “ready to fire.”
    Because of the age of the restaurant, the kitchen was large and well ventilated. The mats looked new and when she picked up one of the pots, it was heavy and of good quality. Now for the storeroom.
    “You could pretend to be interested,” Cal said from just inside the kitchen.
    She turned to him. “In what?”
    “The front of the store.