She put a spoonful of tea leaves into the pot while she waited for the water to boil. As she reached for a mug, she almost called out to ask Madeline if she wanted tea, then remembered Madeline was gone.
The wave of agony was sharp and fresh. It cut through her, slicing away her strength until she could only collapse and slide toward the ground.
But instead of falling, she was caught in strong arms. She turned and saw Reid standing there.
Gratitude replaced a little of the pain. She threw herself at him.
“You came back.”
“I had to,” he said, his eyes dark with emotion. “To tell you I’m sorry. I know this is all my fault. I know I’m the reason she’s gone.”
The kettle began to whistle. Lori released him and turned off the burner.
His fault? How could he think that? “You don’t have anything to do with Madeline dying.”
“I found the donor. I pushed for the surgery. I made it happen. She wasn’t ready. She made that clear. If I hadn’t pushed, she could have survived another year.”
Lori supposed a soft, gentle caring response was in order, but she was too stressed. She folded her arms over her chest and shook her head.
“I’ve always suspected you had delusions of grandeur, but I never expected this. Madeline died because her heart stopped beating. That’s it. Unless you have a direct line to God and put in a request to end my sister’s life, you had nothing to do with it.”
“But I—”
“Stop,” she told him. “Just stop. Madeline was going to die from her disease. One way or the other, she was lost to us. Do you know what it’s like to live day after day, knowing the end is coming? Sure, we’re all going to die eventually, but most of us get to pretend that moment is a long way off. We get to live normal lives. But that wasn’t going to happen for her. She was going to get more and more sick. The liver cleans the body from the inside. So she would get more toxic as time went on. Massive bruises would cover her torso. She would be poisoned to death by her own body.”
She dropped her arms to her side, but she didn’t touch him. She wanted him to listen, to not be distracted by anything else.
“You gave her what no one else could, Reid. You gave her hope. In fact you gave it to all of us. Don’t ever make that less than it is. Hope is everything. Hope is a miracle.”
“So if you don’t blame me, why did you send me away?”
“What? I didn’t,” she said. “I thought you wanted to be gone. I know I’ve been caught up mourning Madeline. It just seemed like you would want to be somewhere else.”
He glared at her. “Dammit, Lori, why do you always do that? Why do you assume I’m here because it’s convenient or easy? Why do you think I’m going to disappear at the first sign of trouble?”
His temper surprised her, as did her reaction to it. She was more than ready to fight. “Because you have a long history of taking the easy way out. We’ve talked about it. You don’t hang around when things get difficult.”
“In my past,” he said. “When, with you, have I ever flaked out?”
Good question. “You haven’t had the chance.”
“Oh, great. So you’re just waiting around for me to screw up? Because that’s what I do, right?”
“No. I don’t mean that.” She didn’t. Not exactly.
“So what did you mean? You dumped me before I could dump you?”
“No,” she told him. “I’m in mourning here.”
“A convenient excuse.”
“You should know—you’re the king of them.”
He shook his head. “You talk about me. Sure I’ve spent my life taking the easy way out. Well, you’ve spent your life not even trying. At least I show up.”
The unfairness and the truthfulness of the statement cut her. “You don’t know anything about me,” she said, her voice getting loud. “You don’t know what it’s like to live in someone’s shadow.”
“Bullshit,” he said in a low voice. “You called me on using my sad past with Jenny as an excuse to hide. Allow me to return the favor. You stopped hanging out in Madeline’s shadow a long time ago. Sure the story worked while you were still a kid, but you’ve been on your own for a long time now. You have a career, a house, you’re more than capable of taking on the world. So why are you so damned afraid to step up and take a chance?”
How could he be hounding her like this? Didn’t he know what she was going through?
“Why were you always so convinced that I could never really want you?” he asked when she didn’t say anything.
“Because you couldn’t,” she yelled.
“So this has all just been a game? I’m playing you?”
“Maybe,” she muttered.
“Maybe?”
“Yes,” she told him. “Yes, this is easy and convenient and fun and when it gets hard, you won’t be here.”
Then she started to cry because as she said the words aloud, she knew that the last couple of weeks had been hard and he’d been with her every step of the way. He’d never flinched from any of the emotional messiness. She’d been the one hiding, the one afraid to believe she was worth loving.
“If that’s what you really think,” he said quietly, “then I don’t belong here.”
He turned to leave.
It was like drowning. In that second, Lori saw her entire life flash before her. But it wasn’t the years she’d already lived—it was the years to come. The old, empty years of regret. Years where she would search the local papers for some word of Reid. Where she would waste her life wondering how things could have been different.
She could see herself hiding in a crowd, hoping to catch a glimpse of him, wishing he would look up and see her and give her another chance. She could see years of playing it safe.
“Don’t go!”
She ran into the living room and grabbed his arm before he could reach the front door. “Don’t go. Please. Don’t.”
She brushed at the tears in her eyes so she could see him. “Reid, don’t go. I love you. I love you so much. I’m terrified you’ll leave and I’ll never survive that. So I thought it was better to get over you now. To hold back, to push you away. I’m afraid. But that’s not fair to either of us. I’ve always hidden because it was easy and safe. But it’s lonely and not how I want to live my life anymore.”
“What if I don’t love you back?” he asked.
She felt cold all over. “Then you’re really stupid,” she said, trying for bravado and failing. “It’ll hurt, but I’ll recover. It’s easier to get over a heartbreak than it is to try to heal from regrets. And I would regret pushing you away. I’d regret it for the rest of my life.”
She decided to be more honest with him than she’d ever been with anyone…including herself. “I’ve spent too long not trying. Giving up instead of risking. That stops now. I love you, no matter what. You are a part of who I am.”
“I love you, too.”
She blinked at him. “You do?”
“I do. I love you in a way I’ve never loved anyone. You bring out the best in me, Lori. You don’t let me get away with anything. You’re not easy, but you’re the greatest time I’ve ever had.” He grabbed her hands, raised them and kissed her knuckles.
“I love you,” he repeated. “Seriously, deeply, forever. I only want to be with you. I want to marry you. I want to have babies with you.”
“I love you so much,” she said as she threw her arms around him and pressed close. “How could I not? You’re everything to me.”
He grabbed her upper arms and held her far enough away so that he could see her face. “Yeah?”
She smiled. “Yeah.”
“And you’ll marry me?”
“Yes.”
Something light and warm brushed against her arm. It wasn’t Reid and the air wasn’t blowing. Still she felt the touch and knew she’d made the right choice. For the first time since her sister died, her heart was at peace.
Thank you, she said silent
ly.
The soft brush came again and with it, a faint whisper: “Be happy.”
If she hadn’t been saving money to stay home with Madeline, she wouldn’t have taken the job with Gloria. If she hadn’t taken the job, she would never have met Reid, wouldn’t have known what it was like to be loved by this man. She might never have found him, or herself.
For the first time in her life she knew what she wanted and where she belonged. With Reid. She’d finally reached the place where she could not only believe in him…she could believe in both of them.
SUSAN MALLERY
Delicious
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER ONE
PENNY JACKSON KNEW that it was probably wrong to be so excited to see her ex-husband come crawling back, but she was willing to live with the character flaw.
“You know he’s going to want to hire you,” her friend Naomi said.
“Oh, yeah. The sweet smell of validation.” Penny leaned back in her chair and considered the possibilities. “I want him to beg. Not in a vicious, I hate your guts way, but more as a…”
“Show of support for divorced women everywhere?” Naomi asked.
Penny laughed. “Exactly. I suppose that makes me petty and small.”
“Maybe, but you’re looking especially fabulous today, if that helps.”
“A little.” Penny smoothed the front of her loose sweater and glanced at the clock. “We’re meeting for lunch downtown. A neutral location—no memories, good or bad.”
“Stay away from the good ones,” Naomi warned her. “You always were a sucker where Cal was concerned.”
“That was so three years ago. I’m completely over him. I’ve moved on.”
“Right.” Naomi didn’t look convinced. “Don’t think about how great he looks in his clothes, or out of them. Instead remember how he broke your heart, lied about wanting children and trampled your fragile dreams.”
Easy enough, Penny thought, a flicker of annoyance muscling in on her good mood.
Nearly as bad, four years ago she’d applied for a job as a cook in Buchanan’s, one of Cal’s family’s restaurants. The job had been strictly entry-level—she would have been in charge of salads. There had been ten other applicants. Worried she wouldn’t make the cut, Penny had asked her then-husband to put in a good word for her with his grandmother. He’d refused and she hadn’t gotten the job.
“This time the job is coming to me,” Penny said. “I intend to take advantage of that. And him. In a strictly business way, of course.”
“Of course,” Naomi echoed, not sounding the least bit convinced. “He’s trouble for you. Always has been. Be careful.”
Penny stood and reached for her purse. “When am I not?”
“Ask for lots of money.”
“I promise.”
“Don’t think about having sex with him.”
Penny laughed. “Oh, please. That isn’t an issue. You’ll see.”
PENNY ARRIVED EARLY, then stayed in her car until five minutes after the appointed time. A small, possibly insignificant power play on her part, but she figured she’d earned it.
She walked into the quiet leather-and-linen bistro. Before she could approach the hostess, she saw Cal standing by a booth in the back. They might have friends in common, and live in the same city, but since she’d done her darnedest to avoid close proximity to him they never ran into each other. This lunch was going to change that.
“Hi,” she said with a breezy smile.
“Penny.” He looked her over, then motioned to the other side of the booth. “Thanks for joining me.”
“How could I refuse? You wouldn’t say much over the phone, which made me curious.” She slid onto the seat.
Cal looked good. Tall, muscled, the same soulful eyes she remembered. Just sitting across from him caused her body to remember what it had been like back when things had been good and they’d been unable to keep their hands off each other. Not that she was interested in him in that way. She’d learned her lesson.
Plus, she couldn’t forgive the fact that in the three years they’d been apart, he hadn’t had the common courtesy to get fat or wrinkled. Nope, he was gorgeous—which was just like a man.
Still, he needed her help. Oh, yeah, that part was very cool. While they’d been married the message had been she wasn’t good enough. Now he wanted her to save the day…or the restaurant, in this case. While she planned to say yes, eventually, she was going to enjoy every second of making him beg.
“The Waterfront is in trouble,” he said, then paused as the waitress came by to take their order.
When the woman left, Penny leaned back in the tufted seat of the booth and smiled. “I’d heard it was more than in trouble. I’d heard the place was done for. Hemorrhaging customers and money.”
She blinked, going for an innocent expression. No doubt Cal would see through her attempt and want to strangle her. But he couldn’t. Because he needed her. Was, in fact, desperate for her help. How she loved that in a man. Especially in Cal.
“Things have been better,” he admitted, looking as if he hated every second of the conversation.
“The Waterfront is the oldest restaurant in the infamous Buchanan dynasty,” she said cheerfully. “The flagship. Or it used to be. Now you have a reputation for bad food and worse service.” She sipped her water. “At least that’s the word on the street.”
“Thanks for the update.”
His jaw tightened as he spoke. She could tell he was furious about this meeting. She had an idea of what he was thinking—of all the chefs in all of Seattle, why did it have to be her?
She didn’t know either, but sometimes a girl couldn’t help catching a break.
“Your contract is up,” he said.
She smiled. “Yes, it is.”
“You’re looking for a new position.”
“Yes, I am.”
“I’d like to hire you.”
Five little words. Words that weren’t significant on their own, but when joined together, could mean the world to someone. In this case, her.
“I’ve had other offers,” Penny said calmly.
“Have you accepted any of them?”
“Not yet.”
Cal was tall, about six-three, with dark hair. His face was all sculpted cheekbones and stubborn jaw, and his mouth frequently betrayed his mood. Right now it was thin and straight. He was so angry, he practically spouted steam. She’d never felt better.
“I’m here to offer you a five-year contract. You get complete control of the kitchen, the standard agreement.” He named a salary that made her blink.
Penny took another sip of her water. In truth she didn’t want just another job. She wanted her own place. But opening a restaurant took serious money, which she didn’t have. Her choices were to take on more partners than she wanted or wait. She’d decided to wait.
Her plan was to spend the next three years putting away money, then open the restaurant of her dreams. So while a big salary was nice, it wasn’t enough.
“Not interested,” she said, with a slight smile.
Cal’s gaze narrowed. “What do you want? Aside from my head on a stick.”
Her smile turned genuine. “I’ve never wanted that,” she told him. “Well, not after the divorce was final. It’s been three years, Cal. I’ve long since moved on. Haven’t you?”
“Of course. Then why aren’t
you interested? It’s a good job.”
“I’m not looking for a job. I want an opportunity.”
“Meaning?”
“More than the standard agreement. I want my name out front and complete creative control in back.” She reached into the pocket of her jacket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “I have a list.”
DOING THE RIGHT THING had always been a pain in the ass, Cal thought as he took the sheet and unfolded it. This time was no different.
He scanned the list, then tossed it back to her. Penny didn’t want an opportunity, she wanted his balls sautéed with garlic and a nice cream sauce.
“No,” he said flatly, ignoring the way the afternoon sunlight brought out the different colors of red and brown in her auburn hair.
“Fine by me.” She picked up the sheet and started to slide out of the booth. “Nice to see you, Cal. Good luck with the restaurant.”
He reached across the table and grabbed her wrist. “Wait.”
“But if we have nothing to talk about…”
She looked innocent enough, he thought as he gazed into her big blue eyes, but he knew better than to believe the wide-eyed stare.
Penny could be convinced to take the job; otherwise she wouldn’t have bothered with a meeting. Playing him for a fool wasn’t her style. But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t enjoy making him beg.
Given their past, he supposed he’d earned it. So he would bargain with her, giving in where he had to. He would even have enjoyed the negotiation if only she didn’t look so damn smug.
He rubbed his thumb across her wrist bone, knowing she would hate that. She’d always lamented her large forearms, wrists and hands, claiming they were out of proportion with the rest of her body. He’d thought she was crazy to obsess about a flaw that didn’t exist. Besides, she had chef’s hands—scarred, nimble and strong. He’d always liked her hands, whether they were working on food in the kitchen or working on him in the bedroom.
Susan Mallery Bundle: The Buchanans Page 26