Page 1 of Quarterback Sneak

Chapter One

Seattle, Washington

“Once upon a time, there was a chef who lost her faith in true love—”

“Not funny, Beth.” Chef Ivy Turin slipped through the late-morning crowd at Pike Street Market, a cloth bag full of heirloom tomatoes tucked protectively against her side. “I haven’t lost my faith in true love. I’m just having a hard time remembering where I put it.”

Beth, her sous chef, stopped at a table arrayed with brightly colored scarves. “So Kevin was a mistake. There are plenty of good guys out there.”

“I’m well aware of the fact.” Ivy paused at the next stall to browse through several jade necklaces displayed on a bed of black velvet. Although nine months had passed since the breakup, Kevin’s betrayal still stung.

“Maybe you should start dating again. Even a fairy-tale princess has to kiss a few frogs before she finds her perfect prince,” Beth said.

“Are you searching for your perfect prince, Beth?” Sham, the elderly jade vendor, asked. The r’s rolled off his tongue in a jaunty Irish accent.

Beth released a snort, followed by a low chuckle. “I have a boyfriend. Ivy’s the hopeless romantic—well, she used to be—a hopeless romantic.”

Nodding his head, Sham lifted a silver chain adorned with a heart-shaped jade pendant the vibrant shade of a sliced avocado. He held the pendant in his palm before he offered the necklace to Ivy. “Then please, take this necklace as my gift to you. If you truly want to find this elusive perfect man and restore your faith in true love, it’ll be your good luck talisman.”

Sham had been at the market for as long as Ivy could remember. Nobody knew his real name. Everybody called him Sham, whether it was short for Shamrock or for the fact that he used this same line on all the tourists to con them into buying his products, she had no idea. She wished the stone could perform a miracle, but it would take more than jewelry to mend her broken heart.

“The Market is holding a raffle for the homeless veterans. If you’d consider donating another dinner for two at Vicenzo’s, this lovely necklace will be yours,” Sham said.

“I’d love to donate, but giving me the necklace isn’t necessary.” Ivy clutched at the cloth strings of her bag while she studied the jade necklace he held out for her inspection.

“Take it. You know you want to,” Sham said with a wink, his arthritic hand beginning to shake.

Ivy’s heart softened and she flashed a resigned smile. She accepted the necklace, palming its weight. “In that case, I’ll donate a dinner for four.”

“You have a generous heart.” He closed his hand over hers and squeezed, his intense regard meeting hers. “Take the necklace as my gift to you. The first step to finding true love is acceptance. Wear it with hope in your heart, and when you find the perfect man for you, everything will become clear.”

Meeting Beth’s amused gaze, she suppressed a grin. Remaining friendly with the local vendors, even the eccentric ones, could garner her more customers at Vicenzo’s, her family’s restaurant located in the heart of the Market. “I’ll leave the gift card at the hostess desk at Vicenzo’s.”

“Bless you, Ivy and good luck with the magazine shoot, I can’t wait to read the article.” He released her hand and after a brief nod, he turned to greet a new customer.

“Thank you.” Ivy put on the necklace as she and Beth made their way through the gathering tourists. The mere mention of the upcoming photoshoot sent a boost of nervous energy into her body. The magazine cover and five page spread was part of the prize for winning 3Square, a top rated cooking show on the Epicurean Network. “I still don’t know what to make for dessert. You know it’s my weakest dish.”

“Please, your weakest dish is most peoples best. Stop worrying. Your star is on the rise, and Vicenzo’s is already shining brighter since you took over as Executive Chef. Check out the line.” Beth pointed to the crowd gathered outside the restaurant. “That’s what I’m talking about.”

Vicenzo’s glass double doors stood open like welcoming arms, and the aromas of oregano, garlic, fragrant cheeses, and freshly baked bread wrapped Ivy in their embrace. The second she crossed the threshold, her gaze went to the huge painting hanging on the stucco wall behind the elaborate antique wooden hostess desk. The portrait of her grandparents, fresh off the boat from Italy, greeted the guests with bright smiles.

Ivy lowered her arms and tucked the bag closer to her side, careful not to squish the ripe tomatoes. She never tired of looking at the picture. Maybe one day she’d find a man who would love her the way her grandfather still loved her grandmother. Despite Kevin’s betrayal, she wanted to believe in happily-ever-after. She looked down at the pendant, caressed the smooth stone, and whispered her deepest desire under her breath. “I wish it were truly possible to meet the perfect man for me.”

Sam Rockney entered the restaurant lobby, the savory aromas drifting from the kitchen enticing his nose, making his stomach growl. After months of eating simple food in the rural villages of sub-Saharan Africa, Vicenzo’s smelled like nirvana. Except he wasn’t here to eat. His ex-girlfriend Raina had asked to meet him away from the office. It would be the first time he’d seen her since their breakup and he wasn’t certain what to expect.

It’s just Raina. If you can take on the entire Scorpion defense, you can handle her.

More people entered the crowded lobby and forced him closer to the bar, where she had texted him to meet her. Time to get it over with. He scanned the lounge area, finally spying Raina sitting at the end of the polished marble bar. Pretty in a sophisticated way, he’d enjoyed her company, but the spark between them had fizzled out before it ever had a chance to ignite.

“Sorry I’m late, traffic was a bear,” Sam said.

Raina flipped her long dark hair over her shoulder, an amused grin curving her wide mouth. “Geez, what happened to Mr. Clean Cut? Shaved head. Sexy stubble. Add a few tattoos, and you could pass for a biker.”

He scratched at his jaw and took a seat on the bar stool beside her. Along with his ultra-casual clothes, the week’s worth of beard was a deliberate bit of camouflage. If things got out of hand, he hoped no one would recognize him. He’d purposely returned to Seattle a week earlier than his publicized arrival date. Thus far, the team of photogs who usually stalked him had been thankfully absent.

“You wear the look well, of course. No surprise there,” she said, a familiar bite to her tone that promised trouble.

Perhaps meeting her in a public place wasn’t the best course of action. He just prayed some random stranger with a cellphone wasn’t capturing their exchange.

---