“Okay, let’s get to work,” she told Dana as she switched off the computer and stood up to follow her to the kitchen.
Chapter Seven
Three days later, they were still baking up a storm. Several of the orders had already been sent out, but too many more still had to be prepared, packaged, and shipped.
Six-o’clock mornings and nonstop days became the pattern of Meredith’s life, but she still tried to save an evening or two for some downtime with Vlad, even though when they were together, her mind often wandered into thoughts of work, finances and, most of all, the unattainable Ogilvy account.
So close, and yet so far.
She sighed as the thought invaded her mind again one evening when she stood in her kitchen with Vlad, making dinner.
“Meredith,” he said.
Not that it ever left her completely alone, of course.
“Meredith!”
Usually it was there from the moment she got up until the moment she—
“MEREDITH!”
She turned to Vlad, startled when she realized he’d been talking to her about…something.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you. I was thinking of—”
He gave a curt nod. “I know what you were thinking of.”
“Do you?”
“Damn right I do. This is the fourth time you haven’t heard me since I arrived, and the cause is always the same thing.”
Meredith saw something spark in his eyes and knew he was pissed. All right, so she’d been a little inattentive, but it wasn’t personal. She was just weighed down with problems. Surely, he should understand that.
She fisted her hands at her sides, trying not to become too annoyed. “Oh? And what might that thing be?”
“Those damn hearts.”
And that ripped it wide open. Obviously he didn’t understand, and despite her vow not to overreact, Meredith felt the heat of anger set up a slow boil in her veins. She narrowed her eyes at him, suddenly ready for a fight, and when she spoke, she didn’t try to hide the frost in her voice. “That’s right. Those damn hearts and how my company could fail without them. I’m sorry if you don’t think the success of my business is worth a little worry.”
“Look, you’ve got other customers, right? From what you’ve told me, you’re loaded down with Valentine’s Day orders.”
“That’s true, but the amount she’s agreed to pay will take care of my bills for months.”
“For God’s sake, Valentine’s Day isn’t the only holiday that people celebrate by buying cakes. Mother’s Day will be here soon, and right after that there’s Father’s Day and—”
Meredith shook her head. “That’s all in the future and completely speculative. This is real, and a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”
“It’s still not worth making yourself sick over.”
“Well, to me, it is. So I’m sorry if you’re not interested in my success.”
“I’m interested in your success. I’m just more interested in your not turning yourself into a basket case because you’re so obsessed with your success that you forget there’s another part to life.”
Meredith snapped the oven off before the meatloaf baking there turned into a charred brick. “And just what might that part be?”
“How about simply living? You know, breathing the fresh air, taking a walk without that worried frown I usually see on your face, kissing me good night as if you were really thinking about what you’re doing instead of about some mega-bucks customer.”
Meredith pressed her lips together. Her kisses were lukewarm? That’s what the man thought of them? Then from now on he could bloody well kiss himself. “I apologize if I’m not fun enough for you…if I’m too focused and serious to waste your valuable time on.”
He folded his arms across his chest, legs apart, biceps bulging in the short-sleeved T-shirt he had on. It was the same hyper-masculine pose that always made her hormones teeter somewhere between anger and the urge to simply rip his clothes off.
“That’s not what I said, and you know it. So stop trying to turn my words around to mean something they don’t,” he countered.
Despite her anger, Meredith steeled herself against succumbing to the irresistible sexiness she always found in that damn pose of his.
Do not succumb to it, she warned herself. So, instead, she turned even angrier. “Oh, now I’m some sort of manipulative female, is that it?”
In answer, he blew out an exasperated breath. “Okay, you’re doing it again—taking everything I say completely out of context.”
Meredith moved to the other side of the table to be farther away from him, because if he kept that stance long enough, she was sure she’d probably melt and give in.
But he didn’t keep it. He simply threw his hands up in frustration.
“You know, this conversation is getting us nowhere, except to aggravate the hell out of both of us. So I think I should be leaving. I made a reservation for that restaurant on Lenox Street. I’ll be here on the fourteenth, and hopefully we can start over again without all the hostility.”
He turned to go.
“I don’t think so,” Meredith said.
For an instant, he froze, then he turned slowly back to her. “You don’t think so, what?”
“I think I’ll be too busy on the fourteenth to spend any time at a restaurant.”
“All right, then I’ll cancel the reservation, and we can order something special and eat it here.”
Meredith shook her head firmly. “I don’t think I’ll be eating anything special here that day. With anyone.”
For a moment, he simply stared at her in silence, then he nodded. “Fine, if that’s what you want.”
What she really wanted was to cave right then and there. But she was already too deep into her anger, so she just stiffened her resolve and let the anger speak for her. “That’s exactly what I want.”
“Does that apply to the rest of the month too? All of February?”
“It does.”
“And the month after that?”
She took a deep breath and forced herself to push on till the end. “Yes, March, too, and April and—”
He held up a hand to stop her. “You don’t have to recite the whole calendar. I get the idea.”
For a split second, his face contorted with an expression that seemed to be caught somewhere between hurt and anger. Then in a tone so calm and frigid it chilled her bones, he said, “No problem. If that’s the way you want it, consider it done. Permanently!”
Swinging around, he stormed out of the kitchen without looking back.
A moment later, Meredith heard the front door slam with a finality that startled her. She felt a flow of tears dampen her cheeks and dashed them away with the back of her hand because, damn it, their fight wasn’t completely her fault. If only he’d sympathized a little more, told her that her success was just as important as any other part of her life, instead of spouting off about wanting her to enjoy a life of sunshine and laughter and let’s-all-just-stop-and-smell-the-flowers blandness.
All right, it was true she had a hard time not thinking about the Ogilvy loss. But that made perfect sense. Without the money it brought and the potential for other lucrative contacts, she could be struggling for years to keep her business solvent.
Maybe she’d succeed, but she could just as easily fail, and then her lifelong dream would be dead.
Somehow Vlad couldn’t understand that. Or if he did understand, then he just didn’t want to appreciate it and what it was doing to her.
Well, what did she expect? He’d once claimed he had the tenacity of a junkyard dog when something was important to him or someone he loved. That meant just one thing—her success wasn’t important to him, and neither was she. And if that was the case, then to hell with him.
Sniffling back any more stupid tears, she marched into her office, took a pen, and slashed a big X through February fourteenth on her desk calendar, happily obliterating the note she’d mad
e about spending the evening with him.
Spend Valentine’s Day with Vladimir Nitwit? Not likely.
****
The next morning, when Meredith strode into the Divine Desserts kitchen, even the makeup she’d slathered on her face couldn’t disguise the evidence of all the tears she promised herself she wouldn’t shed the night before, but had.
“Oh my gosh, you look terrible,” Dana said when she turned to say hello. “What happened?”
Meredith dumped her bag in the corner and reached for an apron. “Vladimir Wiznitsky happened.”
“You had a fight?”
“More than a fight. A screaming match par excellence.” Meredith yanked the apron around her waist and tightly secured the strings. “We are, as the gossip columns love to phrase it, dunzo…completely, mutually, and irrevocably.”
Dana rushed over and grasped her in a comforting hug. “Oh, sweetie, I’m so sorry.”
Meredith took a sniffling breath to keep any more useless tears from falling. “Thanks, but everything’s fine. I can handle it. The most important thing now is that we’ve got a ton of cakes to make and only four days to make them in.” She eased out of Dana’s embrace and headed to the fridge. “So let’s get moving.”
****
“That’s the end of it,” Dana said, sounding every bit as tired as Meredith felt. “The last order just went out and should reach its destination in…” She glanced at the kitchen wall clock. “…fifteen minutes.”
Meredith nodded as she shucked her apron and prepared to call it a day—Valentine’s Day, to be precise. “Just in time for the customer’s party.”
“Yeah, thank God.” Dana stored a stack of bowls in a cabinet before removing her own apron and hanging it up.
Meredith sighed and scanned the room to make sure everything was in order after their recent whirlwind of almost nonstop activity. Thirty-nine orders in the past week—twelve of them that had to be shipped to nearby areas, twenty-one that were delivered to various parts of the city, and six local emergency requests they’d received just a day ago.
But at least it had somehow all worked out well. The customers would be happy, Divine Desserts would have a little more loot in its meager coffers…Meredith exhaled another weary sigh…and she’d spend the rest of Valentine’s Day alone.
“Jake and I plan to have dinner at that new Italian restaurant near our house, then take in a show,” Dana said as she put on her coat. “What about you?”
Meredith shrugged. “I’m a little tired, so I think I’ll just go home, have some wine, then check on our current finances and watch a movie.”
Dana frowned. “Vlad’s still a no-show?”
Meredith nodded, knowing there was no use in lying about it. She’d mentioned their disastrous head-butting session to Dana, so his continued absence wasn’t really surprising.
“Hey, I basically kicked him out, so yes, he’s still gone.” She shrugged as if she couldn’t care less.
Dana grinned and snapped her fingers as though the greatest idea had just come to her. “Hey, come with us. We’d love having you.”
Meredith took a breath. The last thing she wanted was pity, even from someone she loved as much as she did Dana. “Thanks, you’re a real friend. But Valentine’s Day is for duos, not trios. Come on, don’t worry about me. Just get out of here so I can close up.” She hugged Dana. “Kiss Jake for me, and have a great evening, both of you.”
Dana didn’t look convinced, but she nodded anyway. “Okay, if you’re sure.”
“Positive. Now go home and enjoy.”
After Dana left, Meredith gave the kitchen one more brief inspection. Then she locked the place up securely and went home, unlike Dana, who had Jake waiting expectantly for her, completely alone.
Chapter Eight
As soon as Meredith entered her apartment, she poured herself some wine and went to her office so she could fire up her computer and look at the cake she’d created for Julia Ogilvy’s wedding.
“Perfect,” she murmured. “A masterpiece. My masterpiece.”
At least the cake would have been her perfect masterpiece if Julia hadn’t demanded a retired candy-heart saying…or else no sale, no valuable customer referrals, and soon probably no Divine Desserts. Unless she found another way of earning enough to pay the bills.
Then to add insult to injury, Vlad had acted like the ultimate jerk just because she was understandably concerned about the situation. Okay, maybe slightly more than concerned. Maybe just a wee bit obsessive.
But so what? High-powered businessmen did it all the time, and wives and girlfriends were always expected to understand and to at least send a lousy greeting card for Valentine’s Day.
But here it was, February fourteenth, and did the man have the decency to do that? Ha!
Well, she was a big girl and couldn’t care less about a silly holiday that glorified some naked kid shooting arrows at people. Talk about idiotic concepts.
She sat at the desk and stared at the computer screen. The image of the mock-up cake she’d designed stared back at her, and Meredith blinked away a tear that she refused to let fall.
No problem. She’d always been able to handle any romantic debacle life threw at her, and she could damn well also rise above a professional setback.
She’d just admit to the Ogilvys that she’d hit an unavoidable roadblock and couldn’t deliver. There was still time for them to find another baker. Maybe one who’d welcome having almost two-million candy hearts inscribed with the words “Adore Me” on hand, or at least one who had the room and could afford the expense of doing so.
Meredith drained the wine glass and reached for the bottle to get a refill. As for her, she’d be fine, and someday the cake, sans candy hearts, would find another well-heeled bride who’d be thrilled to ooh and aah over it and welcome it to her wedding.
“Right.” She set the wine bottle back on the desk with a decisive thump. “No question about that.”
Then she remembered the candy-hearts company website. A week ago, before all those last-minute orders derailed her schedule, she’d planned to directly contact the people there to see if they had any advice for solving her problem. She still had some time before she had to give Julia the bad news, so maybe it wasn’t too late to do it now.
Finding the URL for their website, she began keying it in as she prayed. “Maybe they can help,” she murmured. “Maybe they’ll even take pity on a poor business owner who—”
The doorbell’s shrill blast cut her off, making her heart pump triple-time.
“Crud,” she muttered and went to answer it, opening the door a crack.
A deliveryman stood outside, cradling a large box in his arms. “Meredith Crismis?”
She nodded and opened the door wider so he could come in.
He plunked the box on the foyer table and shoved a pen and paper at her. “Delivery for you. Sign this.”
Meredith glanced from man to box to man again, equally surprised by both of them. “What is it?”
The man looked at her as if she was terminally dense. “A package,” he finally said.
She narrowed her eyes at him. The one thing she didn’t need at the moment was snark. “I mean, who sent it, what’s inside?”
“Damned if I know, lady. But if you sign on the dotted line, you can open it and find out.”
She snatched the pen out of his hand, scrawled her name on the paper, and crowded him toward the door so he’d get the idea and make a speedy exit.
“Smart mouth,” she muttered, but she was too intrigued by the delivery to spend time haranguing the deliverer. So she just slammed the door shut as soon as he left and carried the box to her desk.
“With my luck, it will probably explode when I take the cover off,” she murmured as she pulled a pair of scissors from one of the drawers
She was just about to snip the wrapping tape when someone began pounding at the door. Meredith groaned. If that was the delivery guy saying he’d made a mistake and the
box wasn’t really for her, she’d heave the thing at his head. She tossed the scissors on the desk, thought better of it, and picked them up again before she went to answer the door.
“Forget the deliveryman,” she said as she snapped the locks open and grasped the knob. “It’s probably an axe murderer, and if it is, I’m gonna whack the bum’s skull off.” She yanked the door open and came face-to-face with Vlad.
“You.” She glared at him.
“That’s right. Me,” he said, glaring right back as he stormed into the apartment, dragging Randy with him.
“And him.” He pointed at Randy, who looked like he had eaten some year-old unrefrigerated fish and was going to be sick.
Vlad held up a heart-shaped box of candy, then smacked it onto the foyer table. “Here, before I forget. Happy Valentine’s Day.”
“Thanks a lot,” she snarled. “Now why are you manhandling Randy?”
Vlad elbowed Randy in the ribs. “Tell her.”
She watched in confusion as Randy hemmed, hawed, shifted from one foot to the other, and kept clearing his throat nervously as he looked everywhere but at her.
“Um,” he finally said. “You see, it’s like this. I’m the one.”
Meredith shook her head. “You’re what one?”
“Will you just get it out, for God’s sake.” Vlad gave Randy another poke, and Randy stumbled sideways before catching himself and letting out another hesitant “uh.”
Then he seemed to suck up his courage. Clearing his throat, he looked Meredith straight in the eye and said, “The viruses on your computer…I put them there. I did it remotely. Right at the office, and no one ever suspected until Vlad figured it out. I mean, I didn’t want to hurt you, but I needed the money she gave, and I didn’t use dangerous viruses, the way she wanted. I just installed sort of mild ones.”
He went silent, and Vlad snapped his fingers in Randy’s face. “Tell her the rest,” he ordered.
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