At Your Service. Amy Cousins Jo

that there would be no food served tonight and stay out of the kitchen completely. Hey, they could still drink.

      Just not eat.

      But damn the man, did he have to just go and kiss her?

      She was already having trouble enough, concentrating around him, trying not to trip over her own tongue or her false stories. She just couldn’t seem to catch her balance when she was in the same room as Tyler, and she wasn’t quite sure why.

      Okay, sure, the man was movie-star handsome. The kind of movie star that was inevitably referred to as having “rugged, good looks.” Which in Tyler’s case meant a heavy, sensuous mouth, cheekbones to die for and straight, dark brows over midnight eyes. Eyes whose favorite activity seemed to be taking long, sweeping looks over her body with half-lidded lazy indulgence. And it wasn’t fair that although she was tall enough at five foot nine to look most men in the eyes, she had to crane her neck to look up at Tyler when she spoke to him. But after all, the man was just a bartender.

      A gorgeous, hardworking, restaurant-opening bartender, whose family obviously adored him.

      But still, Grace argued with herself. She’d arranged cocktail parties for industry magnates, hosted political fund-raisers for senators and congresswomen and arranged for film and music celebrities to dine in her restaurants in privacy.

      The vice president of the United States had given a speech at one of her restaurants during the Democratic National Convention, for crying out loud.

      In all those different situations, Grace had kept her cool. She’d refrained from acting star-struck by actors who, when she was a girl, had shaped her idea of what handsome was, or intimidated by the men and women she met who had the power to alter the course of her country’s destiny.

      But Tyler didn’t even have to touch her to make her lose her train of thought.

      And when he did touch her…

      Be honest, Grace, you lost your mind. Completely.

      She decided that a bathroom visit was in order, if only to make sure that she didn’t look as disheveled as she felt. She hadn’t been in the ladies’ room yet, but it was easy enough to find. She’d just straighten herself up a bit. Perhaps reapply a little of the lipstick Tyler had kissed off her mouth.

      Ten seconds later she was back in the dining room, grabbing a protesting Addy and Sarah by the hands and dragging them into the bathroom.

      She flung open the door and waved ta-da with one hand.

      “Have you seen this bathroom?”

      Sarah and Addy looked at each other and then back at Grace, before Sarah said cautiously, “Yes. Why? Don’t you like it?”

      “Like it?” Grace stared dreamily at the charming little room in front of her. The walls were painted in blue-on-blue sponge paint and were hung with dried floral wreaths. Instead of a harsh overhead light, small shaded lamps were scattered around the room. A basket of potpourri, along with other baskets containing complimentary sample-size toiletries, sat alongside the marble sink. Even the floor was unique with a jigsaw puzzle pattern of flagstones in several muted colors. “I’d come to eat here just for the pleasure of visiting the ladies’ room.”

      “I know what you mean,” Addy murmured as the three women stood in the doorway and experienced a moment of pure, feminine pleasure.

      “Which one of you is responsible for this? Or was it your mother?”

      “Neither,” answered Sarah with a smug grin on her face.

      “Then who—not Tyler?”

      “None other,” Addy chipped in helpfully while pulling back her masses of wildly curly hair and attempting to impose some kind of order on the tangles. “He said that after a lifetime of listening to us complain about how awful women’s bathrooms usually were, he wanted to make sure we’d have nothing bad to say about his.”

      Just what I need, Grace thought. Gorgeous, hardworking and he listens to his sisters.

      She didn’t realize that she’d spoken out loud until both Sarah and Addy erupted with laughter.

      “Sounds like Grace has the hots for our brother dearest, doesn’t it, Addy?”

      “Sure does. We’ll have to check her out, you know. Make sure she’s good enough for him,” Addy teased. “Spill it, Gracie. Where’d you grow up? Go to school? Does insanity generally run in your family?”

      “Good question, sis,” Sarah quipped back. “Because you knew she’s got to be a little bit crazy to go for our brother. Even if he is gorgeous.”

      “But pushy. Don’t forget that. He can be a real pain in the—”

      “Listen.” The word came out sharper than she intended. “I don’t have the hots for Tyler.” She regretted the words already as she watched herself kill the laughter in the air. She knew they were joking about checking out her background, but she couldn’t stop the fear that rushed through her at the words. And she couldn’t begin to answer their teasing questions without making up even more lies. “I don’t have the hots for anyone, and I certainly wouldn’t be dumb enough to get involved with my boss, in any case. That would be completely inappropriate.”

      Sarah’s face froze, then drained of color. She crossed her hands over her chest and rubbed her arms tightly. Grace wondered if she’d just delivered yet another unintentional but deadly insult and hoped she was wrong.

      “I’m sorry.” Grace looked Sarah in the eyes as she spoke. “But maybe we should get ready. We’ll be opening the doors in a minute.”

      “Sure,” the other woman said and walked away.

      Grace turned to Addy, wanting to apologize further, and saw that the older woman was watching her sister leave and looking concerned. As if she felt the weight of Grace’s gaze, Addy shrugged and lifted her hands in a helpless gesture.

      “I was afraid she was dating that jerk of a boss she has. You just confirmed it for me.”

      “Addy, I’m sorry.” It felt as though she was doing nothing but saying she was sorry to these women, who were being so nice to her, for what must look like hypersensitivity and a brusqueness that bordered on rudeness. “I didn’t mean to make Sarah feel bad. I wasn’t even thinking about her.” She shook her head in frustration. Maybe she would be better off if these women didn’t like her. She really shouldn’t get involved here.

      Somehow, that didn’t seem possible though. And she did feel bad. “I didn’t even know she had a boss.”

      Addy reached out with a strong and graceful hand and squeezed Grace’s shoulder in sympathy.

      “Don’t worry about it, sweetie. You couldn’t have known, and we’re all a little nervous tonight.” She smiled gently. “What do you say we get ready for the ravenous hordes?”

      Grace decided that there was one last thing she needed to do first.

      Palms sweating like a teenager’s in the principal’s office, she marched straight back to the kitchen and, after a brief hesitation, slipped quietly through the swinging doors.

      Tyler’s mother was separated from her by the prep counter, over which she’d hand the dishes to the servers, and a stainless steel-top island that served both as chopping block and counter space. As Grace watched, Susannah wielded a large knife on a head of broccoli, slicing up florets as though the tough, fibrous stalks were made of butter.

      Don’t slouch, girl. She could hear her grandmother’s voice admonishing her. What do you think she’s going to do? Bite you?

      You never know, Grace retorted, and then gave in.

      “Mrs., um,” she began, and then realized that she had no idea what Susannah’s surname was. “Susannah? Excuse me?”

      “Yes? And it’s Mrs. Tyler, but that makes me feel old, so don’t