Lori froze. Technically she’d had sex with Reid under Gloria’s roof, but it had never occurred to her that her patient knew about it. She couldn’t. That would be too humiliating for words. They had to be talking about something else. Reid in general. Or the fact that Lori had a crush on him, which no one was supposed to know either.
“I didn’t do this for Reid,” Lori mumbled.
“Of course not, dear. I just want you to be careful. I care about you and I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
Lori appreciated the gesture. She knew Gloria spoke from a place of caring and concern. But what really got her was the assumption that Reid would do the hurting. That there was no way she could ever be the one to leave or wound him.
Yes, it was realistic, but just once she would like to be the one with the power instead of the one left begging.
“I’ll get your coffee,” Lori said, and walked out of the room.
She entered the kitchen and was startled to find Reid already there. He looked up, started to speak, then stopped and stared at her.
“What?” she demanded. “Is there a problem?”
“No. Hi. I’m glad to see you. I missed you yesterday.”
“I get a day off.”
She knew she was being a bitch and the real reason had nothing to do with him.
“No one’s saying you don’t.” He moved close and kissed her. “I like your hair.”
“I got it cut.” She felt stupid and self-conscious.
“You weren’t sure you wanted to before. It looks good.” He smiled. “In fact, you’re gorgeous.”
“Now,” she said, unable to keep the hurt out of her voice. “You forgot to say now. But, hey, it’s great to be out of the ugly camp and in with you beautiful people.”
“What’s wrong? Why are you mad at me?”
She wasn’t. She was mad at herself, but he was easier to yell at.
“I’m pathetic,” she announced. “Horribly pathetic and I hate it. Why can’t you have a crush on me? Why can’t you be worried I won’t be interested anymore?”
“What makes you think I’m not?”
She grabbed the coffee pot and poured, then glared at him. “Oh, please. Get real. I had a makeover. I’m actually wearing makeup and a thong. And I’ve done it all for you. To what end? What’s my point? This is crazy and it’s all your fault.”
“My fault? What? How?”
She heard him sputtering as she left, but didn’t turn around. Talk about a mistake, she thought grimly. Who was she fooling? She didn’t fit in. She never would. Trying was a mistake. Better to be safe and not risk the pain.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
VALERIE’S GARDEN WAS a restored old Victorian on an acre lot. To the right was the parking lot, but the rest of the house was surrounded by a wild and beautiful garden. Even in winter there were lush plants and hedges, trees and pathways that called to Dani. She wanted to wander the stone walkways and discover all the secrets of the beautiful space.
Instead she walked through the front door and into the open dining area.
She was greeted by a young woman in khaki pants and a white long-sleeved shirt covered by an apron edged in embroidered flowers.
“We’re closed for lunch,” she said with a smile, “but I can probably persuade the chef to whip up something to go. How does that sound?”
Dani appreciated the effort and made a note of the server’s name. “Thanks, Bethany. I’m Dani Buchanan. I have a two-thirty appointment with Valerie.”
“Oh, right. She’s waiting for you. Her office is right this way.”
Bethany took her to the back of the house, then up a narrow flight of stairs. Valerie’s office had once been a bedroom. The wallpaper was floral and mostly purple. Valerie herself was a fifty-something woman who had long graying blond hair pulled up on top of her head and wore flowing, romantic clothes.
“Dani Buchanan, Val,” Bethany said.
“Wonderful.” Valerie stood and stepped around her painted desk. “Dani, I’m so happy to meet you. I’ve been looking for a manager forever. It’s so difficult to find the right blend of philosophy and talent, but based on everything Penny told me about you, I have a wonderful feeling about this interview.”
“Me, too,” Dani said, shaking the other woman’s hand and making a mental note to call her sister-in-law and thank her for the plug.
“Good, good. All right. Let’s start with talking, then I’ll show you around and we’ll finish up with a mini-tasting. I told Martina, our head chef, to dazzle you.”
“I look forward to it.” Dani sat in a white wicker chair that was surprisingly comfortable.
“She’s brilliant. Beyond brilliant. Are you a vegan?”
Dani hesitated, then shook her head. “I’m sorry, I’m not. The job description said that wasn’t a problem.”
“It isn’t,” Valerie assured her. “The only issue we’ll have is a familiarity with the various dishes. While you’d have that anywhere, it’s more important here. Our serious vegans want to know exactly what they’re getting, while those who are experimenting often want ideas for home cooking.”
“Learning the menu isn’t a problem.”
“Good. We’re fanatical about fresh here. I have seasonal vendors who provide most of our produce. They’re amazing.”
Dani thought about Penny’s insistence that everything be as fresh as possible.
“The right ingredients make all the difference,” she said.
Valerie smiled. “I like you already. Come on. I’ll show you around.”
They toured the supply areas upstairs, then moved downstairs and met the few members of the serving staff who were still hanging around, having a late lunch together and talking. She saw the wine cellar, the two main dining rooms along with three small rooms that could be used for private parties.
The kitchen took up the rear of the house. It was light, bright and filled with delicious smells. Martina was a tiny woman with a big smile.
“I know Penny,” she said by way of greeting. “She says good things about you.”
She and Dani shook hands, then Martina introduced her staff.
“Most kitchens are difficult, stressful places,” Martina said. “I try to be different. We all want to please our guests. I prefer harmony. Of course I’m more than willing to knock a few heads together if necessary.”
Dani really liked the restaurant. She liked the staff and Valerie and Martina. She liked the location, the ambience and how no one seemed terrorized.
“Go on and sit,” Martina said. “I’ll have Gerald bring out the first course. I did up a little tasting menu for the two of you.”
“Wonderful,” Valerie said. “Thanks, hon.”
Valerie led the way to a small table by the window. In winter the view of the garden was impressive. Dani could only imagine what it would be like in summer.
“I hope things work out with you,” Valerie said as they took a seat. “But even if they do, I’m tempted to pretend to interview a couple more people just to have Martina keep making her tasting menu. It’s delicious. The best of what she does. We’re starting with a vegetable quesadilla with a few spicy surprises and a leek soup you’ll die for.”
Gerald, a good-looking guy in his early twenties, appeared with a tray and a pitcher of iced tea.
“House blend,” Valerie said as he poured.
He then served small cups of soup and set a plate of steaming tortilla wedges between them.
Dani sipped the tea, then stared at her glass. She wasn’t a huge tea drinker, but she certainly enjoyed a glass of it from time to time. But this one tasted odd. Like it had been steeped in celery juice or cucumber water. It wasn’t a great combination.
She then tasted a spoonful of the soup. Leeks were fairly innocuous, so she wasn’t expecting much. Certainly not the sharp tang of licorice.
“Anise?” she asked after she’d forced herself to swallow the unpleasant liquid.
“Fennel mostly. A few other herbs
that bring out the distinctive flavor. The stock is a cauliflower base we make up fresh every day. Guests beg us for the recipe or to at least sell the stock to them, but Martina keeps it all a secret.”
Dani nodded and smiled, but on the inside, she felt the first hint of worry. She loved Valerie and her restaurant. It had never occurred to her that she could find the exact place she wanted to work and be unable to eat the food.
Things would get better, she told herself. They had to.
But they didn’t. The vegetable quesadilla was more awful than the soup, which turned out to be the highlight of the meal.
Part of working in a restaurant at the manager level was the need to be enthused about everything served. Not only would Dani be eating it herself every day she worked, she would also have to talk about it with guests and make recommendations. How could she do that if she couldn’t even choke down one meal?
“Isn’t this incredible?” Valerie asked as she scooped up a forkful of a lentil casserole with an unfortunate spice combination that tasted and smelled like bad tuna.
“Martina is innovative,” Dani said.
This was so unfair, she thought bitterly. The restaurant was her dream job. Why couldn’t Valerie have a passion for steaks or Thai food or anything else? Something she, Dani, could enjoy, or at least tolerate. And how could she tell Valerie the truth?
She was saved from having to come up with a polite version of “yuck” when Valerie got an urgent call from her root vegetable vendor. She promised to be in touch with Dani shortly.
As Dani walked to her car, she glanced back at the beautiful old house. If Valerie called with an offer, she would have to figure out a polite way to tell her no. Then she would have to keep looking.
Her dream job was out there…it had to be. She would keep looking until she found it, no matter how long that took.
LORI HOVERED by the stairs for most of the afternoon, wanting to see Reid, but in a casual way. The most sensible plan was to simply go up to his rooms, knock on the door and talk to him. It was the mature thing to do. The problem was, she wasn’t feeling especially mature these days.
She’d been lurking for so long that she was startled when he finally appeared and she didn’t know what to say.
She stood at the foot of the stairs for his whole journey down and still couldn’t come up with a way to say what she needed to.
“I was scared,” she said at last, which without an explanation probably didn’t make much sense.
Reid stood in front of her and waited.
“I don’t want to do this,” she continued. “I don’t want to try. I don’t want to risk the pain.”
“Are you breaking up with me?”
She tried to read his expression and couldn’t. What was he thinking? Did they have enough of a relationship for there to be a breakup?”
“It’s too hard,” she admitted. “I’d done all this stuff and sure, some of it was me, but it was mostly for you and what if you didn’t notice or didn’t care? What if I’m yet another in a long line of one-night stands? Does any of this matter to you? Am I getting involved with someone who has no plans to be involved with me? I’ve never gone out with a guy like you. I don’t know the rules. I’ve been warned to protect myself from you and while I appreciate the information I want to know why no one is warning you. Maybe I’ll break your heart.”
“Maybe you will,” he said.
“I’m not saying I want to,” she clarified.
“Yes, you do.”
Did he really think that? “No. I just want to be equals in this. I want to be more than a supplicant at the altar of Reid.”
“I have an altar?”
“You know what I mean.” She shrugged. “That was all.” She turned to leave.
He grabbed her arm and held her in place. Then he moved close, put his hands on her waist and drew her against him.
“Why do you doubt yourself?” he asked. “You look great. You looked great before. If you’re happy with what you did, then I’m happy. You don’t have to change to get me interested.” He smiled, but continued to stare into her eyes. “I think I’ve already proved that. Several times over.”
She appreciated the reassurance and refused to let herself point out that there hadn’t been a repeat performance of that single, amazing night. She stepped back.
“I’m not looking for a one-night stand,” he continued. “As for you hurting me, of course it could happen, Lori. I have as much on the line as you do. You’re right—we’re not equals. You have the advantage.”
“Oh, please.” Who was he kidding?
“You don’t trust me,” he said. “Why?”
“Because…Because you’re Reid Buchanan and I don’t know how to be in a relationship. Because I’m afraid. Because this is hard.”
“So you run?”
“It seems a good plan.”
“Maybe you could find another one.”
She stared at him, not sure what to say. Did she want to stay? Not because he asked or because Madeline said it was a good idea, but for herself?
“I’m not running,” he said. “You think that doesn’t terrify me?”
“You’re trapped here.”
He touched her face. “You’re wrong. There are a thousand places I could be. I’m here. With you.”
She liked how that sounded. In the past, she’d always avoided making the effort. Maybe it was time to change that.
“I’ll stay,” she whispered.
“I’m glad.”
DR. GRAYSON WAS a friendly woman who listened as Lori told her sad tale of being unable to wear contacts.
“How long has it been since you tried?” the doctor asked. “The new soft lenses are mostly water and many of my patients don’t feel them at all.”
“It’s been about five years,” Lori said. “Maybe longer.”
“Do you want to try a pair now?”
Lori really didn’t but somehow her makeover seemed incomplete. Besides, as spineless as it made her, her recent encounter with Reid had inspired her to go to the next level, or at least talk about it.
Dr. Grayson pulled out a plastic container of contacts. “You’re a perfect candidate for Lasik,” she said. “If that interests you.”
Lori was too caught up in watching the doctor put liquid onto a seemingly innocent piece of flexible plastic to do more than murmur, “I’m not wild about the idea.”
She swallowed hard, then tried to relax as the contact got closer and closer to her eye. When it was nearly touching, she flinched.
Dr. Grayson chuckled. “This goes better if you leave your eye open. Do you want to try putting it in yourself?”
“Not even for money.”
“Okay. Deep breath. Here we go.”
The contact slipped onto her eye. Lori could instantly see better out of that one eye, which was kind of nice. Maybe this wasn’t so bad. Maybe she’d overreacted to the whole contact lenses issue. Then she blinked.
It was like having a boulder in her eye. Pain shot through to the back of head and tears poured down her cheek.
“Get it out, get it out,” she said quickly.
“Okay. Look up. Keep your eye open.”
Then it was gone. Dr. Grayson handed her a tissue. “So maybe contacts aren’t for you.”
“Maybe not.”
“There are a lot of great styles in glasses.”
Lori blinked several times to clear the tears, then looked down at her glasses. Maybe it was time to admit defeat.
Five minutes later she walked out into the waiting room. Madeline stood up.
“You’re not wearing contacts.”
“I’m not a good candidate.”
“Oh. Okay. Now what?”
Lori pulled the appointment card out of her back pocket and tried not to hyperventilate.
“Now I get my corneas burned off by a stupid laser.”
A TRUTH OF BASEBALL IS that the pitcher is going to get hit by a few balls. Either throws that go wild or a
n unexpected low hit that flies right down the middle. Reid had taken his share of knocks and he remembered how each one hurt like hell. The ones that hit him in the gut had pushed the air out of his lungs.
He felt like that now—as if he’d been sucker punched. He wondered if he would ever catch his breath again. Sure he’d done the right thing, but damn.
He walked into the kitchen and saw Lori making Gloria’s lunch. She turned, smiled, then put down the knife she’d been using and hurried over to him.
“What’s wrong? Do you feel okay? Are you sick?”
“I’m good.”
“You look awful.” She touched his forehead. “You don’t have a temperature, but you’re a little pale.”
“I’m fine. Just getting used to the fact that I gave away one hundred and twenty-five million dollars.”
Her eyes widened. “You did what?”
“Gave it away. I’m starting a foundation. Its mission is to help get kids involved with sports. We’ll give away equipment, build play fields, send kids to camp, that sort of thing. At least that’s what we’re working out right now. The details.”
Lori touched his arm. “Impressive. That’s a lot of money.”
“I’m just getting that.”
She smiled. “So are you poor now? Do you have to get a job?”
“I’m trying to do the right thing, but I’m not crazy. I have money left. Besides, I have a job. I’ve quit the sports bar and now I’ll be working at the foundation.”
“Running it?”
“No. I’m hiring experts for that. I’m going to be the front man. I was talking to Cal about it. I want to do something. Those letters…” He shook his head. “They haunt me.”
She squeezed his arm. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“It was my picture and fake signature that got sent to those kids. When I think of how disappointed they must have been…” He didn’t want to think about it, but he couldn’t seem to stop.
“I don’t want it to happen again,” he said firmly. “I’m going to make sure I get it right. I’m a celebrity of sorts. I can use that. I’ll go out there and meet people. I’ll get other donations, bring focus to important causes. Who knows—maybe I can even make a difference.”
Susan Mallery Bundle: The Buchanans Page 17