Sugar and Spice: 3 Contemporary Romances

by Jenny Jacobs

  She brightened at that. “Not bad,” she said. “And maybe it’ll get you guys off the books faster. And then sabbatical here I come.”

  • • •

  Jeremy paused, chopsticks halfway to his mouth. Sabbatical? Wasn’t that where a person took time off work and did something else for a year? Traveled to Tibet, studied at libraries in Rome? She was planning to leave?

  He set the chopsticks down, food uneaten. Sugar gave him a disbelieving bark but he ignored her.

  “Sabbatical?” he said. His throat felt dry so he took a sip of water but it was hard to make it go down.

  “Yes,” Rilka said brightly. “I have a handful of clients left. I’m not taking on new ones. I decided to give it three months — more like two, now — and then I’m going to take some time off. I figure that’ll help clear my head and I’ll be ready to do something else. I might even sell the house and move to a new town.”

  “Uh huh,” he said. “So why are we discussing how you can do your job better, then? If you’re going to leave it?” He felt a little sick.

  “I have two months left,” she said. “And clients to get off the books. So I needed the pep talk.”

  “Well, okay. Would’ve hated it to go to waste.” He tucked his napkin next to his plate, no longer hungry.

  Two months. Was that enough time? To get her to see him? Maybe if he waved a big red flag in her face.

  “Two months,” he said. “You’re gonna have to work extra hard to fix me up, then.”

  • • •

  “Reston, I had an idea,” Rilka said. She’d thought about what Jeremy had said. It didn’t have to be only about matching people. It could be about helping them. About not being so damned alone in the world. Right? “I’m hoping you’ll do a favor for me.”

  “You need money?”

  God, yes.

  “No. I was thinking about the situation with Hilda — ”

  “Girl scientist? Industrial espionage?”

  “That’s the one. It occurred to me that if I sent you two on a date, you just might be able to set her straight. Without, you know, her really realizing it.”

  “Hmm,” Reston said. “She’s not twenty, is she?”

  “No,” Rilka said patiently. “And she’s not looking for a sugar daddy. I told you this was a favor for me. I can reimburse you the expense — ”

  “It wouldn’t be much of a favor if I expected you to do that,” he said.

  “Will you?” Rilka let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

  “But you need to find my protégé Rafael someone,” he warned.

  “Trying,” Rilka said. “Trying.”

  • • •

  “You seem distracted,” Jeremy said.

  “I am distracted,” Rilka said. “I’m planning a party.” She slewed around to look at him and he wheeled back before she tripped over him and fell into his lap. Then realized too late that was a bad strategy. With her looming over him like that it was kinda hard to lean in for the kiss. With her in his lap, who knew what might happen? Maybe it wasn’t too late to trip her.

  “You know what?” she said. “It was your idea. You can help me plan.”

  “Plan a party?” he said and shrugged. “You need music, booze, and food.”

  “It’s not that simple.”

  “Sure. I’ll bring the music — ”

  “I’ve got a perfectly good selection.”

  “You listen to Frank Sinatra.”

  “How do you know? And what’s wrong with that?”

  “I asked Marilyn and what’s wrong with that is you need music from this century. So I’ve got it covered and that’s the music done. Now, booze.”

  “So that depends on what people will want to drink, and I don’t know — ”

  “You’ve got a liquor store buyer who clearly knows his stuff — ”

  “Her stuff.”

  “Okay, her stuff. Tell her that you’re having a party and she’ll fix you up.”

  Rilka sat down on the sofa, which was good. He could look right at her as she ran an agitated hand through her hair. So maybe he would just lean in and kiss her. And if she reacted badly, then she was leaving in two months and he’d never have to see her again and if Nate suggested seeing a matchmaker again, Jeremy would just punch him.

  There. A plan.

  He wheeled a little closer to Rilka but the damned coffee table was in the way. Thwarted by his environment. Dammit. He scooted back and came from another angle, but that put the arm of the sofa between them. He sighed. Once he’d been pretty smooth. Now he said, “Will you move the damned table?”

  “What? Oh.” She finally realized his situation and hooked the table aside with her foot. Then she patted the sofa next to her. “You come equipped with your own seating so it never occurs to me that you’d like a change.”

  “Yeah,” he said tightly and maneuvered himself onto the sofa and now he didn’t feel like kissing her, especially when she gave him a bright, patronizing smile and said, “Better?”

  “You bet,” he said. He was only kidding himself. Even with the patronizing smile, he still felt like kissing her. He was pretty sure she couldn’t do anything that would make him not want to kiss her.

  She tucked her legs under her and said, “Party planning.”

  “Right. We’re two-thirds done, what more do you want on a Tuesday afternoon?”

  “I want it all,” she said with a grin.

  I want it all, too, Jeremy thought, and was leaning in for the kiss when she jumped to her feet, clipping him on the chin.

  “Ow,” he said.

  “Sorry. I just remembered I told Mrs. Olsen I’d check on her and bring a casserole over.”

  Jeremy eyed Sugar, who barked once at him. “She’s home? That’s good.”

  “Yep,” Rilka said. “Not able to take care of a dog just now but she’ll be ready for that in a couple weeks. Sorry to make you move again but this is going to take a while. She likes to talk.”

  I like to talk, Jeremy thought. “No problem.” He got back in the chair. “I know the way out. See ya, Rilka.”

  Chapter 12

  Music, booze, food. That was all that was required for a party. Jeremy arrived first and squeezed Rilka’s hand, then grabbed a stuffed mushroom from the platter and popped it in his mouth. She was grateful for his presence because if the night turned into a total disaster, she was going to blame it on him.

  Hilda arrived next, with Reston, who kept a proprietary hand on her back as they walked into the living room. The shocking thing was, Hilda did not seem to mind the proprietary hand. Rilka narrowed her eyes. What was going on?

  Hilda chatted easily with Jeremy, who fixed her and Reston each a scotch on the rocks. They seemed to be enjoying themselves, but the way Hilda looked up at Reston — Reston, who was dating her as a favor to Rilka and who was on the lookout for a trophy wife —

  “Oh, damn,” Rilka said, and tossed back the margarita Jeremy had made for her. Leave it to Hilda to like a man who had no interest in her. Honestly, it was a wonder the species was able to perpetuate itself. What had she been thinking, listening to Jeremy?

  Marcus came in next with a bottle of wine, distracting her from her musings. He kissed her on her cheek and went to mingle with the others. Then Marilyn was there and Rilka gave her a hug. Marilyn could only stay a few minutes but was able to meet Julia and Duncan, Rilka’s only recent success story, and the one that she hadn’t actually had anything to do with. Julia flashed an enormous engagement ring and a cat-who-swallowed-the-canary smile.

  “Congratulations,” Marilyn said to the happy couple. And they certainly seemed happy. Rilka thought about what Jeremy had said. Maybe you’ll find a person to be with for a while. And that was fine, too.

&n
bsp; Then there was dancing and Hilda happily went into Marcus’s arms despite their past and Reston looked on with a smile.

  “I appreciate this,” Rilka told him.

  “She’s a lovely woman,” Reston said. “Look at her smile.”

  “Lovely. Yes.” Rilka had never thought of that adjective in connection with Hilda before.

  “Smart as a whip, too,” he said. “Just a little lonely, which was what all that balderdash with the lab assistant was about.”

  “Yes,” Rilka said, looking around for Jeremy and her next drink, which she needed desperately. “So did she break it off with him?”

  “Of course,” Reston said. “I told her I wanted to be exclusive. That she means enough to me that I don’t want to share her.”

  “Reston! I can’t believe you’d do that.”

  “Why not? She’s a very special lady.”

  “But — I don’t want you to mislead her. That wasn’t my intention at all. I just wanted her to avoid getting tangled up in some problem at work.”

  “Yes, yes,” Reston said, waving a hand at her. “Maybe it started that way. Or maybe you pretended that’s what you were doing — ”

  “But you want a trophy wife.”

  “I was being a foolish old man,” Reston said. “I — honestly, I believed that at my age, who would genuinely care for me? But Hilda doesn’t want my money or my status. She has her own money and status. You see, I thought if I had a trophy wife I’d know exactly where I stood and I’d be fine with that. But you knew better, didn’t you? Your gran always did, too.”

  No, I didn’t know better, Rilka thought. I was trying to find a trophy wife for you. She sighed. “Hilda seems very happy.” That was a safe and reasonable statement to make.

  “Ah! I know how to play the game. She has the sensibilities of a woman of my generation, despite her being so much younger than myself. We understand each other perfectly. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to take a turn dancing with her.” He set his drink down and made his way over to Hilda.

  Rilka stared after him as he cut in on Marcus and Marcus surrendered Hilda to him. Hilda smiled up at Reston with such delight that Rilka felt a claw of jealousy at her heart.

  She looked for Jeremy. He was talking with Ducan and Julia. She took a step in their direction, but then the doorbell rang and Rilka went to answer it. At first she didn’t recognize the glamorous blonde who stood there. Then she spotted the scar.

  “Daphne?” she faltered, then, recovering herself, said, “I’m glad you could make it.”

  “Thanks for inviting me,” Daphne said, stepping over the threshold. Rilka bit back a gasp of surprise at Daphne’s dress, with its plunging neckline and sleek fit. If she didn’t want people staring at her, she’d definitely chosen the wrong outfit.

  Daphne sauntered into the living room. Rilka saw Marcus’s jaw drop as Daphne entered, like walking onstage, and then he grabbed a drink from the side table and headed in her direction.

  • • •

  Rilka kicked her shoes off and fell onto the sofa with a heartfelt sigh. Jeremy looked at her feet. Even her feet were pretty. Of course, he was a sucker for everything about her.

  “Mind if I join you?” he asked.

  “Not at all,” she said, leaning back and closing her eyes. “That was fun but I’m glad it’s over.”

  He transferred himself to the sofa. His thigh bumped hers accidentally but she didn’t flinch or move way, so he let it stay. You are so fucking pathetic, he told himself, but it felt good to have Rilka close to him, so he couldn’t even dampen his own spirits.

  “Headache?” he asked.

  She opened her eyes and glanced over at him. “Not so much. Just a little tight in my shoulders and neck. That was a little nerve-wracking.”

  “You mind?” he asked, touching her shoulder, pushing her hair aside. His heart beat unsteadily in his chest. “I’m good at shoulder rubs.”

  “God, yes,” she said, shifting to give him better access. “I would love that.”

  He swallowed hard and put his hands on her shoulders, feeling the heat of her body through the thin T-shirt she wore.

  “Mmm,” she murmured as he worked his thumbs into her tight muscles. Bit by bit she relaxed and then she was in the curve of his arm, and her head tilted into his chest, and — she snored.

  • • •

  “Who is she?” Marcus demanded the next morning.

  “Who is who?” Rilka asked. One too many margaritas last night had made concentrating a difficult matter this morning. She gripped the phone tighter. Marcus. She was talking to Marcus. She shot a glance at the clock. At least it wasn’t three A.M. He’d waited until a barely decent nine A.M. to call. She would have appreciated a more thoughtful noon call but she wasn’t going to complain. At least he wasn’t calling from jail again.

  “The blonde. Daphne,” he said. “Who is she?”

  She was about to say “a client” but stopped herself in time. Daphne could tell him that if she wanted to.

  “Someone I know,” she said vaguely.

  “You’ve got to tell me. Who is she? Is she even American? Where is she from? What does she do?”

  “I can’t tell you that,” Rilka said, because she’d forgotten and didn’t have the folders in front of her. And besides, that was for Daphne to tell if she wanted to.

  “I thought so,” he breathed. “Just tell me — she’s not Interpol, is she? She’s not after me?”

  “If you mean will she arrest you, the answer is no.”

  “Thank God. I — she left without giving me her number.”

  Good for her. It wouldn’t do any harm to make Marcus work for it.

  “I will give you five hundred dollars for that number.”

  “Yeah, but who will you have stolen it from?”

  “For her, I would even seek gainful employment.”

  • • •

  “He’s a jewel thief,” Rilka said flatly. “He says he’ll change for you, but don’t hold your breath.”

  “I don’t want him to change,” Daphne said. “He is the most thrilling man I’ve ever met and he thinks I’m hot. He thinks I’m an adventuress. Maybe I’ll get him to teach me how to do second-story jobs.”

  Shoot me now, Rilka thought.

  • • •

  “So I turned a formerly shy girl and perfectly law-abiding citizen into, what, a gun moll?”

  “Yeah, I’d keep that out of your company bio,” Jeremy said. They were on the front porch with Sugar, enjoying the spring afternoon. “You told her to be an adventuress, so she just did it?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “Awesome,” he said.

  “At least I’m clearing them off the books,” Rilka said.

  “Not all of ’em,” Jeremy said.

  “I’m still working on you,” Rilka promised him. “I can concentrate now that everyone else has gone totally insane and found completely unsuitable matches with each other.”

  “I’m fine with an unsuitable match. I’m just looking for — ”

  “I know,” Rilka said.

  • • •

  “I’ve found someone!” Natalia crowed.

  “Congratulations,” Rilka said.

  “Now you can put my card in the inactive file.”

  “Will do. Who is he?”

  “She. I met her clubbing and realized I’ve been looking for all the wrong things.”

  “Hmm,” Rilka said. “I’ll say.”

  Chapter 13

  Rilka looked at the file box in front of her. It had thinned down considerably. Three cards left. Then … she could do anything. Be anything.

  Rafael, the CEO. And Marilyn, who would kill Rilka if she even found out she was in the file. And Jeremy.
If Jeremy and Marilyn were going to hit it off, they would have done so by now, what with Jeremy visiting Henry’s regularly when Marilyn was behind the bar.

  What she needed was to let Marilyn be in her element.

  Rafael. Could there be anything there? CEO and bartender/artist. At first blush, no. But … but opposites did attract. And they weren’t in directly competitive fields. And if Marilyn could have time to do her work during the day then she’d be happy to throw all those dinner parties for Rafael. And they were the only people left in her box. But how would she get Marilyn to cooperate?

  • • •

  “Reston, I think I have someone for Rafael.”

  “Excellent. You do have your grandmother’s gift.”

  If only you knew, she thought.

  “The problem is, the woman I have in mind isn’t really looking.”

  “Ah.”

  “She’s an artist. A sculptor.”

  “Ah,” he said again. “You know, this is fun. Let’s see. A sculptor. I think we may need to redecorate our lobby. What’s her name?”

  “Marilyn Knight.”

  “One of Ms. Knight’s works would be perfect. I’ve heard a great deal about her. Let me see … I need Rafael to take a look and tell me what he thinks before I authorize the expense.”

  “Perfect,” Rilka said.

  • • •

  Marilyn wiped her palms on her jeans and said, “God, I’m nervous. I hope he likes the stuff.”

  “Me, too,” Rilka said, a hint of despair tweaking her heart. Marilyn was wearing her working clothes: heavy boots, heavy workshirt, old jeans, hair pulled back in a haphazard ponytail. Not exactly making the most of her feminine attributes. But she’d wanted Marilyn to meet Rafael in her element, and this was it.

  They heard the sound of the elevator gate sliding open and then Rafael was striding into the room, glancing at his watch as if he were wasting valuable time on nonessentials. Rilka’s heart sank further.

  “Hi, Rafael. This is the friend I mentioned to Reston. Marilyn Knight.”

  Marilyn held out a hand that trembled with nerves. Rafael took it briefly then dropped it.