But he didn’t come.
She drank the iciest ice water to quell the longing for him that still heated her stomach. His kisses made her lose her blasted mind.
Heat. That had been their problem all along. If she made something for tomorrow, she knew it would definitely have heat—to symbolize the burning she felt for Zach. But it would have to be creamy too, to cool the heat. No matter what, it should be savory, and the most delicious thing she could imagine to make for him.
Food could be symbolic.
Whether or not he got the symbolism of it, she didn’t care. She’d know.
Teacup stirred, and Piper quieted her. Too bad she couldn’t quiet herself. Zach could come walking in that door any moment, ready to claim his husbandly rights.
Bzzzzzz!
Piper’s phone vibrated a text.
I’m sleeping at my office tonight. I’ll let you guess why. Love, Zach.
Love!
Chapter Twenty-One
Zach had Piper on his arm and a potluck offering in his hands as they came up the tree-lined walk to Crockett’s palatial house. Zach didn’t know what was under the swath of aluminum foil covering the dish he carried, but it smelled like savory, Southwest-cooking deliciousness.
“Is there jalapeno in it?” Zach lifted an edge of the foil and inhaled. “I smell garlic, too.”
“Both, and probably too much butter.” She seemed nervous.
“Don’t worry. I’m sure it’s going to blow away anything anyone else makes.”
“Haven’t I been telling you? That’s so not my plan.”
“Sure, but I still don’t get how a potluck dish could be a social minefield.” Zach helped her up the steps. She was wearing a skirt and some great heels. She looked so good, every other male lawyer there would be eating his heart out while they died of pleasure eating whatever it was Piper had made.
“Please. It’s fraught with danger.” Piper whispered as they approached the house. “Since this is your debut, I want the dish to be fabulous—but not too fabulous because everyone who made something wants their dish to be raved about. A good dish wins, but a too-good dish makes others feel like they lost. It’s a tightrope.”
“Fair enough. These are aspects I never would have considered.” But he got it now. Wow, Piper had more social acumen than he would have bargained for. With every passing day, he knew he wanted her to be a permanent part of his life, not just a temporary business deal.
Plus, she was killing him in that skirt. He’d exerted herculean effort and stayed away from her last night, but if she wore stuff like that, plus the heels, he’d be a backslider of the quickest kind, when it came to his intention to keep his distance.
Zach needed to focus. He had a professional minefield of his own to cross tonight too, one he’d never ventured into before: the married-couples staff party. Normally, he’d find a trusted guide who could help him navigate, but his go-to guy, Eisenhower, had turned enemy soldier at the last minute. He had no idea whether he was supposed to be jovial or professional at something like this, especially with the promotion looming.
All he did know was people would be watching him and Piper tonight.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a house with so many pillars.” Piper clung to his arm as they trekked across the flagstone portico. “It’s like it wants to be the Lincoln Memorial when it grows up.”
“I just hope there’s not an oversized marble statue of Garwood Crockett seated on a throne as we enter the foyer.” Zach had his hands on the tray, so he let Piper press the doorbell. It bonged like a cathedral bell tower.
Some people.
But there was no giant Crockett, only a piazza with a solarium and several fountains trickling here and there, with exotic butterflies flitting between the flowering plants.
“Oh, Travis. There you are.” Mr. Crockett greeted them personally, to Zach’s astonishment. “And what’s this?”
“It’s a surprise,” Piper said with a beaming smile at him. Well played. “I hope it tastes good. I can sometimes go a little crazy on the salt.”
“No, I mean this.” Crockett pointed a spindly finger at Piper. “You finally found your ticket into the tournament, I see, Travis. And a very fine season pass she must be. Well done. Very well done.” His eyes crawled over Piper, making the hair stand up on the back of Zach’s neck.
“This is my wife, Piper, formerly Piper Quinn. She’s a chef downtown.”
“Is she, now?” Mr. Crockett took the tray of food from Zach’s grip and nodded, still staring at Piper. Granted, Piper looked incredible tonight. In that bright blue blouse with the draping neckline, her long hair flowing down her back, and her eyes. Those green eyes that had captured Zach from the moment he saw them looked bigger in the evening torchlight of the solarium. Zach shouldn’t blame Crockett for staring too long, but it still got under his skin.
“I’ll look forward to a taste of this.” His eyes were still on Piper.
Well, that sounded wrong. Crockett left, and Zach had to shudder to shake off the ickiness.
“Sorry about that. I’ve never seen him act that way.” Come to think of it, Zach had never seen Crockett act in any way other than like a staunch old fogey in the boardroom. “He’s generally less…”
“Of a creeper?”
“Precisely.”
With his hands free of the food offering for this altar of potluck sacrifice, Zach slowly slid his hand down her forearm and let his fingers intertwine with Piper’s. The perfect fit should stop surprising him by now, but it hadn’t yet.
“So, you work with all these people?” They entered the main area of the house, which had better lighting but quite a bit more noise. At Du Jour, it was just the three people—Mitzi and Garrett and Piper. This crowd probably shocked her system.
“Just half of what you see, mostly. The rest are spouses.”
There had to be eighty people in the room, all couples. Zach recognized a dozen or so attorneys he’d worked with here and there on cases, but the rest looked like associates, partners, and office support staff. Well, so this wasn’t just a club for the up-and-comers on the career track; this was a genuine married people in-crowd.
Sylvia’s gossip hadn’t been wrong.
“Some of them are lawyers. Some work in other parts of the firm.” He shook his head. “Until a few days ago, I didn’t even know this fraternity-sorority existed.” He spoke only loud enough for Piper to hear.
“I guess it’s like the recipe for Coca-Cola or that fried chicken place. Guarded secrets can still be kept,” she said.
“Or the mafia.”
They rounded yet another pillar and Zach surveyed the guests. His eyes landed on a person he’d never expected to see here: Cora.
Cora knew—about the timeline of Zach and Piper’s relationship. Zach hadn’t counted on her being here tonight, considering he hadn’t known the Married Staff Club extended to non-lawyers. A pain pinched between Zach’s eyes.
The timeline was exactly the glitch Agent Valentine had pointed out at the airstrip the other day. It was suspicious, and nobody knew that better than Cora, whose conversation with Piper had capitulated this whole shenanigan of a business-arranged marriage. If she knew about the secret be-married-to-get-promoted clause, she’d see right through them, if she hadn’t already.
Would she tell Crockett?
Even more hazardous, would she tell Agent Valentine?
Zach’s throat tightened. If he could avoid any information leak until after Piper’s court case, and until after the partnership slot had been filled, then they’d be in the clear. They had to avoid Cora for now. Time to get out of sight.
“Mrs. Travis,” he said in his most charming and nonchalant voice. “Would you care to go for a walk on the veranda?” He maneuvered Piper away from the room milling with loud laughers and out a pair of French doors onto the pillared porch. It wrapped around to this back side of the mansion, and each pillar had its own burning torch to light the evening. Fireflies hung
suspended in a grove of trees out at the edge of the vast lawn.
If ever there was a romantic night in Texas Hill Country, this was one.
“You didn’t want to hobnob with the Great Ones in there?” Piper sat down beside him on a double-wide rocking bench that faced the fading sunset. “I thought that was the point of coming.” She smelled like honeysuckle. It was her shampoo. He knew this because the two of them shared a bathroom now, and Zach Travis was not above opening a woman’s shampoo bottle and taking a whiff.
“I’ve got the greatest of the Great Ones right here at my side. Why would I care about the rest of them?”
“Oh, Zach, you can go on flattering me like that all night long. It’s fine with me.” She nestled up against him, her shoulder hitting just under his arm, yet another position where their bodies fit to perfection, like they’d been factory retrofitted for each other. “But if we sneak out like this away from the crowd, doesn’t that kind of defeat the purpose of looking like the sparkling newlyweds of the firm?”
Zach pulled her closer and inhaled the scent of her hair again, more deeply, as if it might become permanently embedded in his senses.
“I don’t know how many newlywed couples you’ve been around, but most of them don’t mingle. They isolate.” Now he put both arms around her. “It’s far more convincing if I’m at this party but still trying to get you alone.” He pressed his lips to her hair now. Its strands ran smooth beneath his lips, like corn silk.
“It’s your company’s event, so I won’t argue with you.” She leaned her head against his chest, and her body was warm against his, just as a breeze came and ruffled the fern leaves on the veranda. “So if someone comes out here, maybe the best thing would be if we looked…close to each other.”
“The closer the better.”
“Like, maybe…this close?” In a second she had repositioned herself so her face touched his, her breath on his mouth, her eyelids floating shut as she leaned toward him.
“Closer,” he whispered, pressing a kiss onto her supple lips. “And closer.” He kissed her again.
The kiss got closer and closer—for the benefit of Zach’s coworkers, of course. Not for any other reason. This whole arrangement had to be as convincing as possible, and the energy generating between the two of them reached wattage high enough to power a small engine. It was high enough that Zach himself was at risk of being convinced.
“Hey, there. If it isn’t our newlyweds.” Mr. Crockett strolled out into their energy field, grounding it.
Barely a step behind him came another circuit breaker, only this was twice as strong and much more snide.
“Ha. Newlyweds.”
Eisenhower and Sylvia. Great. Zach had to take a second to control his breathing rate before answering.
“How’s it going tonight, Mr. Crockett? You met my wife earlier. Thanks for inviting us.”
“Us, too.” Eisenhower leapt into the conversation, like a grasshopper onto a perfectly good picnic blanket: unwanted and unnecessary. “Looks like Travis here snared himself an insta-wife. How did you two meet, Zach? Did you ever tell Mr. Crockett? I’m sure he would be interested to know.”
Zach got up and dusted off his pants, and Piper stood, clinging to his side, one arm around him, the other pulling her torso against his side, like they were Siamese twins. She did a great job of being convincing. He’d have to thank her later.
Sylvia, wearing far too many sequins, eyed Piper, and inched toward Eisenhower, mimicking Piper’s possessive side cling, but only to a fractional degree. The lack of chemistry between the two attorneys fell like a lump of lead on the veranda’s wood planks.
“Aw, shoot, Eisenhower,” Zach said. “I’m sure he’d be far more interested in the fact you and Sylvia hooked up. How’d you keep your workplace romance a secret for so long? Or, wait. How long had the two of you been dating? You sure kept it hush-hush.”
The tension snapped between him and the bulky Eisenhower, who had fifty pounds on Zach. Still, Zach could take him, if provoked.
Eisenhower looked ready to provoke.
However, Piper cleared her throat, inserting herself between them with a sweet voice.
“How’s the dinner going, Mr. Crockett? We haven’t eaten yet; we were just waiting for the line to die down and came out here to enjoy the night.” Piper’s sweet voice cut the night air and a fraction of the fury dancing between Zach and his coworkers. “What did you bring, Mrs. Eisenhower? It’s nice to see you again, by the way. How nice that we could witness your nuptials.”
Zing! And two points to Team Travis. Whether or not Piper had meant to slam dunk the ball, she’d done it with her offhand comment reminding Eisenhower that they both owed each other silence.
“Excuse me.” Crockett held up an index finger and took a call, turning his back on the intense foursome, whose intensity crackled even more without Crockett’s attention right on them.
“It’s Sylvia Nakamura.” The attorney pasted on a grimace that was half sneer, half smile. “And you’re Piper Quinn. I saw your face and name on that gaudy billboard on I-10.”
The detail cut Zach like a blade. He thought fast.
“Well, technically she’s Piper Travis. Piper Quinn is her professional name. She’s a chef, you know. In fact, she owns Du Jour. Maybe you’ve eaten there? It’s on the Riverwalk. She serves something new every day.”
“I’ll say,” Sylvia muttered, eyeing Piper with derision. “It’s as if someone tipped Travis off to the fact that this event is a bit of a cook-off and he hooked a wife who could show the rest of us up. Smart move Travis. Hire a professional culinary expert to pose as your wife until the promotion is secure.”
“Like he was a chef-seeking missile.” Eisenhower shot daggers at Zach with his eyes. “Jerk.”
Zach had had no idea this potluck had a competitive angle. But then again, this was CBH. First the big Secret Married People Club, now the Cook-off? What else had he been missing while he fired blanks at the target of trying to make partner?
“What’s that?” Crockett looked up from his phone. “I heard the word culinary. That’s why I’m out here. Arlette, my wife, insists I go around asking which couple brought the jalapeño corn. All that butter and garlic and cream cheese? Have you tried it yet? Arlette says she wants a vat of it poured into her coffin with her when she dies of ecstasy from eating it.”
Zach looked down at Piper. Even in this low light, he could see a blush creeping up her neck. “You made the jalapeño corn.” Zach had smelled the peppery goodness in the car on the way over but hadn’t been able to identify it.
“A triumph!” Crockett clapped his hands together, concussing the night air. “Come inside. We have a prize we’re awarding.”
A prize? So much for staying out of the spotlight.
“Uh,” Eisenhower trailed along after them. “Sylvia brought the pumpkin cheesecake, you know. Is there a dessert category?”
Crockett didn’t even look back. “Let’s just say there’s not a category for things purchased at a membership warehouse.”
Eisenhower was not easily cowed. In fact, he jogged around in front of Zach, Piper, and Crockett, blocking their way to the hallway to the main kitchen area.
“Yes, but the bigger question is—why is Zach Travis even here tonight? He and Piper Quinn, professional name or whatever, were married last Monday, less than ten days ago. That was basically hours ago. What kind of a real newlywed shows up at a work party during his honeymoon?” Venom dripped from every word, just as though Eisenhower had forgotten that he himself had been married within five minutes of Piper and Zach’s tying the knot. And weren’t honeymoons a week? Eisenhower was off his nut.
Crockett swung his head toward Zach. “Ah, is this true? You were married last Monday?”
Zach opened his mouth to answer, but no words came out. He wasn’t sure whether Crockett would offer felicitations or firing for fraud. He was dying to spill the beans of the pot calling the kettle black; but, if he outed Eisenh
ower, he’d look petty or petulant, not much like partner material.
“Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Travis.” Up walked Cora, and down sank Zach’s stomach, right into his shoes. “Is the married life treating you well?”
Eisenhower eyed her skeptically, and Zach gritted his teeth. This moment could sink the ship of Zach’s entire career. One word from Cora, and everyone at this party, including his boss and the one who held Zach’s career in his hands would know why Zach met and proposed to Piper in the first place.
But instead of her usual stink-eye, Cora gave him a surreptitious wink.
“I guess you and Mrs. Travis couldn’t stay long on your honeymoon Friday, since Du Jour’s lunch service needs your devotion, Mrs. Travis—but I guess that’s the breaks for its sole chef.” She turned to Mr. Crockett. “Piper is one of the best young chefs in San Antonio. I’ll bet you fifty bucks she’s the one brought the jalapeño corn. Either that or some army of angels dropped it straight from the heavenly realms of glory.”
At that Crockett gave a belly laugh. “Heavenly realms of glory. That’s a good one. Har-har. Here you go. Everyone?” He clapped for attention, and most conversations hushed in the din. “Let’s congratulate Piper Travis on her championship side dish, the jalapeño corn!”
Applause rose, and he handed her a silver platter with some engraving on it—Best Dish. Then Crockett angled himself toward the banquet tables.
“I’d better get another serving before it’s all gone. Before Eisenhower gets there and eats it all.”
Eisenhower and Sylvia stomped away.
Cora snorted.
“It was genuinely divine, Mrs. Travis,” Mrs. Crockett said. “How much butter was in that? Because if you tell me it was fat free, I’m going to kiss your shoes, I swear.”
“Bad news: two cups.”
“Two cups! That’s a pound!” Cora groaned. “So much for calorie counting today. But since it’s busted anyway, I’d better elbow my way back to the trough and get another bite of it. If you don’t ever make the same thing twice, it means I’ve only got the one chance, right?”
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