by Piper Rayne
Or was it?
Jillian was just as determined to see her business succeed. She was as dedicated to the inn as he was to contracting. She was ambitious. But she was also satisfied with growing her business here in the city, laying a foundation here.
Since meeting Jillian, Scott realized that he hadn’t even concerned himself too much with thoughts of big, out-of-state contracts. He was happy doing jobs here in the city and helping Jillian and her assortment of nuts at the Breakfast Nook.
He only hoped Jillian felt the same way about him. It would devastate him if she spurned him.
His attitude toward Kayla came to mind, and he sighed. He should not have snapped at her. He supposed he owed her an apology as well. But he also needed to have a talk with her to make sure she understood that they were, and always would be, nothing more than friends.
Getting up from his desk, he walked to the outer office to where Kayla sat at her desk. Without preamble, he patted her on the back. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound so grouchy. Was there something you wanted to talk to me about?”
“Yes, but it can wait,” Kayla said, wondering what had Scott so upset. She wanted to console him for whatever reason, but dared not. If she pushed too much, he might shut her out completely.
Kayla wanted to share Scott’s life and all his woes, although she wasn’t so sure anymore that she’d be able to do so. In a few short weeks, Scott had gone through a dramatic change. It had all happened in the amount of time he’d been working for the innkeeper. He was like a starry-eyed kid, with his first crush. None of it was directed toward Kayla, either. And she’d tried everything to win Scott for herself. Using all of her feminine wiles, she was still unable to garner his attention, let alone get him into bed. Even all the special attention she’d paid to Timmy hadn’t moved him. Oh, she was certain she had his gratitude, but his gratitude wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted his love, his body, his children. If only she could get him into her bed, he’d forget all about the innkeeper.
Perhaps, if he thought she was leaving, he’d be a little more attentive to her. With that in mind, she forced a chuckle. “Well, on second thought, Scott, I would like to talk to you about something personal.”
“I’m all eyes, bud.”
“Well,” Kayla began slowly. Her mind whirled with ideas. Scott would never let her go without a fight. He’d told her often enough how important she was to him and the business. She almost laughed out loud at her own cleverness. Why hadn’t she thought of using her supposedly imminent departure as a way to win over Scott? She cleared her throat, her insides humming with anticipation. “Why don’t I cook dinner, tonight, at my place, and we can talk there?”
Scott stared at her. A variety of emotions crossed his handsome features, so quickly Kayla found it impossible to read any of them. “Sounds ominous,” he finally said.
Standing, Kayla faced him. “Ominous?” she asked with a nervous laugh. “How could a dinner invitation from me sound ominous? You already know I can cook.”
“You cook quite well, Kayla,” Scott agreed, with a short laugh, more annoyed sounding than amused. “But I was half-joking when I said your invitation sounded ominous. Especially before since you’ve never before extended such an offer.”
With as much nonchalance as she could muster, Kayla shrugged. “There’s always room for change, you know.”
“Yes. Always. I much appreciate the offer, Kay. But I don’t want to see you spend an evening in the kitchen on my account.”
“But—”
“No ‘buts’. Let me treat you to a great Italian meal at Pascal’s Manale tomorrow night. That way we’ll both win. I would do it tonight, but I have to meet with the owners of the Memphis project that we’re bidding on.”
“Really?” Kayla asked glumly, referring more to his logic about his invitation than about his plans for the evening. Scott had treated her to lunch and dinner a thousand times. At his house, whenever Kayla dined there, Timmy was always present. They’d never shared a quiet evening alone together, as she’d intended for them this evening. “How will we both win?”
“You won’t have to clean up afterwards and I won’t feel guilty watching you do it.”
How could she respond to that? His demeanor, his words, seemed like a death knell to her dream. Only fools spent their lives nurturing unrequited love. The thought that Scott might never be hers cut.
If things didn’t go as planned tomorrow at dinner, she’d tender her resignation then and there. Scott wouldn’t be left in the lurch. He was very in tune to his business. If this all-out effort failed tonight and she left, she’d miss Scott, but she refused to spend her life pining after him.
“Well,” Kayla said. “You talked me into it. What I have to say can be said over dinner at my house or in a restaurant.”
“Good. We’ll leave early this evening, and go out and pal around.”
Kayla laughed at that expression. “I’m with you, bud.”
15
Bright and early the next morning, Jillian met her parents at Lake Front Airport where the private planes in New Orleans are kept. It felt as if she and her parents had never lost contact as they chatted throughout their breakfast of grits and grillades.
Camille promised to pick up a few items for Jillian, while in Paris, while Taylor swore he would watch the European investment markets.
Jillian stayed until the plane was taxiing down the runway toward Lake Pontchartrain, then she headed for Commons Bank, where she met Howard and two assistants who sat and spoke with her for two hours about her options now that she was a rich woman. Before she returned to the Breakfast Nook, she went and placed ads for hired help. Finally at noon, she returned to her inn, only to find that Scott still hadn't come nor had he called.
Forcing herself to relax in her apartment, her concern for Scott increased. Perhaps, when he did return, it would be for a final good-bye. At the thought of losing him, her grief nearly suffocated her.
If she’d kept the Breakfast Nook as it was, old-looking, she probably wouldn’t have met Scott. But, noooo, she had to complicate matters by renovating the place to make it look prosperous.
With a stroke of her parents’ pens, her financial burdens had been lifted. Perhaps she would have succeeded without their help, but she’d never know.
Sighing, she rubbed the back of her neck, faced with a glaring truth. Without their help, she probably wouldn’t have made it. The very thought made her a traitor to her own ideals. Although she might have been idealistic, she wasn’t crazy. After struggling for so long and attempting to get help from the bank, she realized she needed help from some other source. Some other monetary source. Besides, Scott was right. She couldn’t keep depending on Marley and Rave to donate their time to her cause. They had families of their own to concern themselves with.
Her unsettling thoughts relentless, Jillian sighed again. Where was Scott? She believed he was genuinely interested in seeing her succeed, and his generosity towards her really touched her. And, now, she had absolutely no reason to fail. She wanted to prove to both Scott and her parents how astute she was, how through their help and belief in her as well as her own dedication, what a roaring success the Breakfast Nook would be. She was determined to make them proud of her.
The abrupt ringing of the phone startled her, evaporating her thoughts. Her heart pounding, she crossed her fingers, wishing it was Scott. She lifted the receiver without looking at caller ID. “Hello,” she said, forcing calm into her voice, hoping the caller wouldn’t hear the pounding of her heart.
“Hi, Jilly,” Marley said cheerily.
Jillian’s heart plummeted. “Marley, hi,” she said, hoping Marley didn’t detect the disappointment in her tone.
“I promised you a night on the town, and tonight is it.”
“Oh no, not tonight,” Jillian began in protest. “I have guests coming and—”
“Yes tonight,” Marley insisted with a no-nonsense attitude. “Tonight is perfect. You’ll o
nly have a handful of guests on hand. Rave and Howie can easily handle such a small load. We’ve hired a sitter for the kids and have all decided that you need this time away from the Nook.”
“Oh, Marley,” Jillian said, undecided now as to what to do. They had so carefully planned everything, she really hated to disappoint them. And she did need a night out. But, if she left, she might miss Scott’s call. “Er—” How could she reject Marley’s kindness? She was so lucky to have such concerned and loving friends. Sometimes, however, they truly overwhelmed her. Still, she’d had a life before she met Scott Martin and it would behoove her to remember that. Besides, she and Marley hadn’t been out alone together since before Marley married Howie. It appeared Marley needed a night out as much as she herself did. It would be good for both of them. “All right, Marl. Tonight is perfect. Where shall we meet and what time?”
“Why don’t I come to the Nook. Either we go together in my car, or I’ll park mine and we can go in yours.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Jillian said. “I’m easy.
Having chosen Marley’s car, at Marley’s insistence, they ended up at Pascal’s Manale on Napoleon Avenue in Uptown New Orleans.
“Italian,” Jillian said with satisfaction after they had been seated. “I love Italian food.”
“I know,” Marley said with a smile. “That’s why I brought you here.”
Bringing them each a menu, their waitress asked if they cared to order from the bar. Marley ordered a bottle of Beaujolais, which they shared throughout the entire meal. Jillian enjoyed a Caesar salad, shrimp fettuccine and cannelloni for dessert. Marley’s salad and dessert were the same, but her entrée was chicken parmigiana.
“I must learn to cook Italian,” Jillian said, taking a sip of her wine. The thought that she needed to learn to cook, period, crossed her mind, and she scowled.
“Then you can serve Italian food to your guests,” Marley offered.
“Guests my eye. That would be for my own enjoyment.” Jillian set her glass down, reached across the table and caught Marley’s hand, stopping Marley from picking up her own glass. “Marley, I have so much to tell you.”
“What? That you and Scott are now an item?”
Some of Jillian’s enthusiasm dissipated as her heart twisted at Marley’s words. “No,” she replied, more subdued. “As much as I’d like that to be true.”
“You’re in love with him, aren’t you, Jilly?
Jillian hated the sympathy lacing Marley’s voice, but she knew that was Marley’s way of lending support. She smiled. “Yes,” she said, uncomfortable. “But I’ve overcome everything else. I can overcome that. But that’s not what I wanted to tell you,” she said, lightening her tone once again.
“Don’t keep me in suspense, Jillian Riley! What gives?”
Hold on to your seat,” Jillian began with a laugh. “I know Howie doesn’t discuss customers’ affairs with you, not even if they are friends—“
Marley glared at her. “Jillian, just get to the damned point,” she ordered impatiently.
“I had lunch with my mom yesterday. This morning, I saw her and Daddy off to another one of their European jaunts.” Reconciling with her parents was compensation for the loss of Scott. They couldn’t take his place, but she now knew, without a doubt, that they would always be there for her. Upon their return from Europe, she’d certainly tell them about Scott.
“Don’t keep me in suspense, Jillian,” Marley said, nearly bursting with curiosity. “How did your lunch date turn out with your mother, and what does Howie have to do with all of this?”
Jillian giggled. “Howie couldn’t tell you that Mom transferred ten percent of my inheritance into my bank account.”
“She did?” Marley blinked. “She didn’t!”
Jillian nodded her head with vigor.
“Omigod, Jillian! How wonderful! Was it enough to pay off some of your debts?”
“It was ten percent of my inheritance,” Jillian stressed, as if Marley should know what that meant.
“Well, was it enough?”
“Let’s see. I have the mortgage and the remodeling, and I owe Lucy and Scott,” Jillian explained, her face a mask of feigned despair.
Marley patted Jillian’s arm. “Oh, honey,” she said with sympathy, her features taking on the same mask. “Take heart. At least they gave you something. Right? I mean, that’s the best way to look at it.”
“Yeah,” Jillian agreed, draining her glass of the last drop of wine. “The stingy darlings. How far do they expect two hundred and fifty thousand dollars to go?”
Marley gasped and sputtered, nearly choking on the wine she was sipping. “Surely, you jest!” she managed, catching her breath and taking a drink of water. “Jillian, are you serious?”
“Marley, I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you choke. And, yes, I’m serious. Mom said the whole of my inheritance is two and a half million dollars. Tell Howie to explain it to you with my permission.”
“Oh, my goodness! You’re rich!”
“Isn’t it wonderful?” Jillian laughed, the sound genuine and joyful. Money certainly wasn’t a cure-all to all of her problems, but it would help to relieve her financial difficulties. “I knew my parents were loaded, but I never knew to what extent,” she added with good-natured crassness.
“This calls for champagne. But since neither one of us are drinkers, maybe we should pick up a bottle and share it with Rave and Howie.”
“Only if I’m allowed to pick up the tab for both the champagne and this dinner.”
“Well, Miz Rich Witch, I hope you didn’t expect me to spring for all this,” Marley said, chuckling.
Jillian beckoned for the waitress. It took a little more than five minutes to settle the tab. Taking up her purse, she stood and looked at her watch. “Let’s go to Martin’s Wine Cellar for the champagne. We’re not too far away and should make it before they close.”
“That’s fine with me,” Marley said, standing from her seat also.
Habit made Jillian peruse the restaurant, looking for familiar faces. All of a sudden, her gaze fell on Scott and a pretty, dark-haired woman, sitting three tables behind them. Jillian’s stomach lurched and her body seemed to turn to stone. Scott and his date seemed oblivious to their surroundings. The woman was crying and Scott was drying her eyes with his handkerchief. That done, he caressed her cheek as she held onto his hand and leaned into it.
Scott’s actions toward the other woman jettisoned Jillian into action. Shock almost overtaking her, she pinched Marley’s arm. Marley pulled away, rubbed the spot Jillian had abused, and opened her mouth. Her chastisement fell away when she noticed what was holding Jillian’s attention.
“It’s Scott!” Marley whispered incredulously. Without another word, she grasped Jillian’s arm and steered her out of the restaurant.
Outside in the parking lot, Jillian leaned against the car. It felt as if her heart had shattered into tiny little pieces and each shard now pricked her. But why should that be? She’d been right in her suspicions all along.
In a comforting gesture, Marley slid her hand over Jillian’s back. “Are you okay, honey?”
Jillian smiled too bright, light-headed, sick-at-heart, and so hurt she didn’t know whether she wanted to laugh, cry, or scream bloody murder. “I’ll be fine, Marl.” Of course she would be fine. Given time. Maybe the next hundred years would be enough time to overcome a broken heart. What a fool she was! It was totally ridiculous for her to even have a broken heart, given the circumstances.
She and Scott were never really involved. They’d shared a few kisses and even that shouldn’t have happened. Scott was married, which meant he cheated on his wife. And what did that make Jillian, lusting as she did after a married man. The woman with Scott seemed so distraught. Recalling her stricken face, Jillian was barely able to hold back her own tears. “Yes, I’ll be fine,” Marley,” she repeated, a mantra she would have to repeat over and over again before she truly believed it.
�
�Let’s go home, Jillian.”
Jillian looked at her and smiled with trembling lips. “Yes, let’s go home. But I believe we had a stop to make first. I could really use that champagne now. I’m thinking Dom Perignon. What do you think?” She forced her smile to broaden. She wouldn’t allow what she saw to bring her into a deep funk. The best way to do that was not to dwell on what was hurting her so terribly.
Marley laughed. “I’m thinking you’re terrific,” she said, hugging her. “When you want to talk, you know I’ll always be here.”
“I know. I think two bottles of champagne seems sufficient, don’t you?”
“Why not?” Marley said, unlocking the car door and climbing into the driver’s side. She waited until Jillian had seated herself in the passenger’s side before speaking again. “Maybe even a case or two. Little Miss Moneybags can afford it.”
“Damn right! Let’s get rolling, peasant. Tonight, I want to find out what inebriated means.”
“Right. And I’ll just stay to tuck you in. Dom Perignon is pretty strong stuff, you know? I guess Rave will be there in the morning to help you nurse the hangover you may get.”
“Oh, God forbid!” Jillian said. They both laughed, knowing Rave’s remedy would be far worse than the hangover.
16
Jillian dragged herself into the kitchen at seven-thirty the next morning. Rave had her croissants and biscuits already baking in the oven. The fresh fruit, jams, and jellies were lined on the counter, ready to be placed on the sideboard in the dining room. The milk and orange juice had been poured into their respective pitchers and the aroma of fresh brewing coffee permeated the air and turned her stomach.
Slowly, so as not to further unbalance her aching body, she made her way to a stool by the counter and plopped down on it. Materializing suddenly, Rave shoved a glass containing a green liquid concoction at her.