Sugar

by Karin Kallmaker

  what Charlie had done for her already, she'd do just about any project for free. Charlie might know how to safely plug the laptop in—that's why she was calling. Of course.

  She had long enough while the phone rang to get a frog in her throat. The ringing was answered just as she coughed into the receiver. "Oh, hi. It's Sugar Sorenson."

  "Hi. Hey, I'm glad you called." Charlie's voice was as warm over the phone line as it had been in person. "How are you doing?"

  "Well, thank you. My grandmother has been great."

  "Good. I really am glad you called."

  Sugar broke an awkward silence by saying, "I wanted to follow up. And I have to admit, I need some professional advice."

  "Which would you like first?"

  Oh, my goodness, Sugar thought. Why on earth did that ques¬tion make her breathless? Was it that near-purr in Charlie's voice? "Well, you did ask me to call and I presume it's because you need a cake. Is now a good time to talk about it?" The trouble with mobile phones, Sugar had always thought, was that you never knew where the person on the other end of the line actually was.

  "You guessed right." It sounded as if Charlie was grinning. "I need a cake. Now's good because I'm on days off. My dad is retir¬ing at the end of this month and I've been looking around. I want something more than letters on frosting."

  "I can do more than letters on frosting. How many people are you feeding?"

  "Just us guys, so twelve. This is for the small party on his last official workday. There's a district-wide bash, for about two hun¬dred rank and file, brass, the works, but that didn't get scheduled until the end of June. I want to do something on his last day."

  "What's the date?"

  "A week from Monday. Is that too soon for you?"

  Visualizing her calendar, Sugar knew it was awfully close to when she'd want one hundred percent of her focus on the Seattle Eats contest. Entries in her category had to be delivered, com-

  pleted and presented for judging at noon on Thursday of that week. But it wasn't impossible and she owed Charlie a lot. "No, that's fine. Any thoughts about what you'd like it to resemble?"

  "He loves to fish, so . . . something . . . about that?" Charlie rushed on. "Except not a fish, because I'm not sure I could eat a cake in sockeye salmon colors."

  Sugar laughed. "How about a tackle box or a creel? In fact, I'd suggest a creel, because a design with lures and things like that would be interesting."

  "Okay, that sounds really fun. In fact, I could probably smuggle you his favorite lure. He's got one that he's had since he was a boy." There was a little sigh in Charlie's voice and Sugar pictured her stretching her legs out in front of her as she settled in to talk.

  Banishing the vision of just how long Charlie's legs were, Sugar said, "I'd love to copy something like that. I really like my cakes to have meaning to the people I create them for."

  "I could drop it by anytime this weekend. My next seventy-two-hour stint begins Monday at one p.m."

  "Okay." Sugar gave Charlie the address and Gran's phone number. "If I'm not home you could leave it in the mailbox, and I'll get it back to you."

  "Oh, well, I was hoping you'd be there. I was thinking we could go for coffee or ... something."

  "Okay," Sugar squeaked. That made three! Three dates in three days—it had never happened to her before. Charlie was so . . . attractive. And so was Emily. And so was Tree. What did they see in her?

  Charlie wasn't laughing but she sounded very close. "Good. I was hoping you'd say that."

  Smug, Sugar thought. Way too smug and poised and smooth at asking women out. She was probably dating a dozen women.

  Before Sugar could recapture any aura of aloofness, Charlie added, "And what was it you wanted professional advice about?"

  "My laptop. This will sound silly, but I've tried to dry it out and now I'm afraid to plug it in. Sparks, explosions, you know?"

  "It's not silly at all. You should be okay if you stick with a GFIC outlet and of course don't be holding it or anything like that."

  "Oh, of course." The special wiring for outlets outdoor or near water was required in restaurant kitchens. "One problem, though, my grandmother's house is about forty years old and I doubt the outlets are wired that way."

  "Do you have a surge strip? It's not as safe, but a good one will help insulate the appliance from the rest of the household electri¬cal load." Charlie was in full firefighter mode as she added, "And you could take it outside. Keep some cat litter or flour handy."

  "Okay. Thank you," Sugar said sincerely. "I think I'm making way too much of it—"

  "Better safe than sorry. Most people don't even think about it."

  "Most people didn't have their house just burn out from under them."

  "Oh, hey, the report on the cause of the fire will be filed by end of next week. Be sure to request a copy from the main district office." Charlie's voice grew warm again. "Are you sure you're doing okay?"

  "Yeah. I'm surprised tonight at how tired I am."

  "You had quite a shock to the system. Have you eaten?"

  "I suppose I should. Not since lunch."

  "How fortunate, because neither have I. Do you like Vietnamese food?"

  "Yes," Sugar said. She just asked me out, a little voice inside mar¬veled. "But I—"

  "You're busy, I understand."

  "Well, yes. I need to get the cake that's due tomorrow set up tonight so I can assemble the icing in time."

  "You do need to eat, though." It sounded as if Charlie had gotten to her feet. "Why don't I bring Pop's lure and some noodles over? We'll talk, you'll work and we'll both get fed."

  Marveling that such a flirtatious tone could come out of her own mouth, Sugar said, "Do you always have such efficient, well-thought-out plans?"

  "Not always, but I do try when it matters."

  "Okay." That's what you get, Sugar told herself. You flirt, she flirts back and now you have no idea what to say. "I'll be here."

  Charlie laughed. "Now that I've said I can find that lure, I'm not sure. I think I know where his tackle box is. Thing is, his side of the garage is so tidy that it'll be obvious if I move things around. But I'll give it a shot. See you in probably about an hour."

  Several minutes later Sugar shook herself out of a stunned reverie, her hand still on the phone. Was this a date? It seemed like a date. There had been flirting and suggestion of getting together. Now they were. Holy heaven, it was a date.

  She dashed to the bathroom, thinking to shower or something, but settled instead on a change of clothes. Charlie had seen her looking worse, and given how, well, how cocky she seemed in asking women out, she could just learn right now that Sugar was a busy woman who wouldn't primp and perfume herself at the slightest sign of interest.

  Good God in heaven, how long had that enormous black hair been growing out of her chin?

  Chapter 4

  Sugar peeked from behind the kitchen shades for the fiftieth time at the sound of an idling vehicle. This one was a truck, one of those shiny silver double-cab lands of trucks. The kind that sat up so high off the ground that it required skilled gymnastics to get in and out of with any sense of grace. Unless, of course, a person was tall.

  Charlie was tall. She exited the truck so nimbly Sugar would have awarded her a 10.0 for the dismount.

  Tall wasn't a requirement for her. Noor was shorter than she was. Things had worked out just fine for important activities.

  I'm unhinged, she thought as she went toward the door. The fire has smoked my brains. This wasn't a date, this wasn't anything. They'd just met. Charlie felt sorry for her. You're a stray puppy she's helping out, she told herself. It's not a date.

  She waited for the doorbell, counted to ten, then opened the door, hoping she was smiling.

  Charlie's jeans had razor-sharp creases, and the collar and cuffs

  of the denim shirt she'd pulled on over a close-fitting white tank were pristinely starched.

  It was a date.

 
; "Come in," Sugar finally managed. Without the layers of safety gear, Charlie's slenderness was even more apparent. Her short black hair, no longer showing the effects of the heavy protective helmet, was wavy with curls.

  "Thanks."

  "My grandmother is at Bible study. I was just getting ready to assemble the cake, that's why it's such a mess." Charlie's off-duty attire also included a plain gold earring clipped to each ear.

  "It smells heavenly in here." Charlie set the bag of to-go con¬tainers on the counter. "Can we talk and eat? I'm sorry, I'm starv¬ing all of a sudden."

  "Me, too." Sugar got out plates and cutlery. "My grandmother doesn't keep beer and wine, I'm sorry to say, and I haven't yet been to the grocery store for myself."

  'That's okay. I'm on call until midnight."

  "Tea?"

  "Sure, sounds great." Charlie set out the cartons and the kitchen was redolent with the aroma of savory, tantalizing herbs and spices. Sugar's stomach growled loudly.

  "I'm really hungry," she repeated unnecessarily. She started to blush but wasn't sure why.

  "I'm making you nervous."

  "A little. I'm out of practice at entertaining."

  "The women in this town are nuts."

  Sugar didn't quite know what to say to that, so she busied her¬self with mugs and tea bags.

  "I got to the restaurant and realized I had no idea if you ate meat. So I went with tofu in some, and one has shrimp. I hope that's okay."

  "That's wonderful. I do eat seafood and a lot of soy. It comes from working in a restaurant. Trust me, if you like dining out, don't ever go in a restaurant kitchen."

  "That bad?"

  "Sometimes, but actually it's the repetition. After the first thou¬sand you grill, a filet mignon is just another piece of meat. Is that torn nuong?" Sugar loved Vietnamese rice vermicelli dishes. Without thinking she made appreciative yum-yum noises and Charlie laughed.

  "Thank you," she said. "I was afraid I'd have to eat slow and be dainty. Which I can do, don't get me wrong. But I'm used to eating with big burly guys who pick rib bones cleaner than piranha."

  Sugar handed over serving spoons. "Dish up and don't be dainty." Feeling much more comfortable herself, she gestured at the table and they both sat down.

  For several minutes, they said little other than "Could you pass this" and "What's that?" and "Wow, that one's spicy."

  When the clink of forks against plates slowed a little, Sugar let out a satisfied sigh. "I didn't realize I was that hungry. Thank you so much."

  "It's my pleasure. Hey, on the way over I realized we didn't talk about the price of the cake."

  Firmly, Sugar said, "That's because there isn't one, not on this one. You saved my knives, let alone everything else, and you simply did not have to do that. So please let me say thank you this way."

  Charlie stared down at her food for a moment, and Sugar held her breath, hoping her rehearsed little speech would settle the matter. "Well, I, uh ... When you put it that way, I guess."

  Pleased, Sugar wondered if Charlie's head was down to hide a blush. Not that one would easily show through that lovely light mocha skin. "Good, I'm glad you're a reasonable woman."

  Charlie glanced up through her lashes with a look of pure mis¬chief in her light, almost golden eyes. "Reasonable? Depends on who's asking. But I'm not cheap and never free."

  Feeling better by the minute—gee, Sugar, think you ought to have eaten more than a handful of almonds and dried fruit today?—Sugar threw an unopened packet of soy sauce at her. "Flirt!"

  Charlie ducked it, looking shocked and pleased at the same time. "Be careful what you start. I finish everything."

  Sugar gaped, blushed and laughed. "I can't tell if everything you say is really about sex."

  "Good," Charlie answered. She dabbed at the corner of her mouth with her napkin. "I do like to keep a girl guessing."

  "Well, my grandmother will likely be home in the next hour."

  "Oh, then we should get to it, huh?"

  Something in Sugar stilled. "You're not serious, are you?"

  Charlie looked startled. "Of course not. We just met. I'm having a helluva good time flirting with you, though."

  Struggling to gain her composure, Sugar said, "Me too. I just... I haven't dated in a while. And even when I did I felt like I was a Studebaker in a Ferrari world."

  Her gaze narrowed, Charlie asked, "What did Gantry tell you about me?"

  "Nothing. I get the idea there's some history there, though."

  Charlie's expression was frozen. "Yeah. Someday I'll tell you my side."

  "She didn't say a thing. Really."

  "Okay, I believe you. We're on opposite sides of a couple of issues, that's all. We have friends in common, but we've always rubbed each other the wrong way."

  After she swallowed a last mouthful of rice, Sugar said, "The plot of nearly every romantic comedy ever made says that's a guar¬antee of happy-ever-after."

  Charlie rolled her eyes. "Life is rarely like the movies. Did you really think I was going to try to seduce you tonight?"

  "No." Shoot, she always blushed when she lied, and it wasn't fair.

  "All I can say is that if I want to do you, you won't have any question about it."

  How arrogant, Sugar thought. Stung, she fired back, "If I want you to do me, you won't be guessing about that either."

  "Good." Charlie's seriousness abruptly melted into a smile. "Well, I'm glad we're clear about that. Usually that doesn't get set¬tled until date three or four."

  Sugar didn't know quite what to say. She'd made it sound like all she was after was getting done, but she enjoyed doing, too. What if Charlie didn't like that? Why on earth was she thinking about sexual politics? "Isn't that when the U-Haul is already in the driveway?"

  "I don't do that U-Haul thing. Tried it. Hated it."

  "Tried it once. It was okay, but we weren't the proverbial soul mates." She rolled her eyes. The concept of soul mates had always seemed hokey to her. "I've been working since I was sixteen, plus six years of college and culinary academy. I worked in restaurants for nine years, including two at Prime Cassis, and had little to show for it. So I decided to work for myself. And I still have nearly nothing to show for it," she added ruefully.

  "But it's your nothing. You made it all by yourself."

  Uncertain if Charlie was making fun of her, Sugar shrugged. "Whatever happens, yeah, I own it."

  The cartons were empty, the tea all consumed. Charlie abruptly seemed at a loss for words.

  Sugar busied herself with carrying their plates to the sink. Charlie leapt into action, nesting empty containers into the bag she'd brought them in.

  "I should get to work on this cake," Sugar said, feeling unac¬countably nervous once her hands were dried. "That was part of the plan, right? I would work while we talked?"

  "Do you want to try plugging in your laptop first?"

  "Oh." She hadn't thought of the laptop since the moment she'd watched Charlie vault from her truck. "Yes, I would."

  Charlie followed her to the garage, where she'd set the laptop and power cord next to an available outlet on Grandpa Fulton's old workbench.

  Charlie lifted the slender case to her ear and shook gently. She closed her eyes and shook again.

  "What's that do?"

  "Only one thing." Charlie's eyes opened and Sugar almost couldn't breathe. Their depths were dancing with humor and something else Sugar had no idea how to describe. "Makes you think I know what I'm doing."

  Sugar blinked, then burst out laughing. "You are such a poser! Give me that."

  Charlie was all innocent looks as she handed the laptop back to Sugar. "I should have known you wouldn't fall for it. That's the trouble with smart girls."

  Sugar pushed the power cord into the back of the laptop and set it down. "Do you avoid smart girls as a rule?"

  Charlie sighed and Sugar looked up. She sensed it wasn't entirely a joke when Charlie said, "I've tried, but the older I get the more I like t
alking in addition to fuh—um, bedroom time."

  "You're all of, what? Thirty-five at the most?" Sugar tried to control her blush at the thought of what Charlie meant by "bed¬room time."

  "Thirty-eight, actually. But thank you, I'll take thirty-five."

  Sugar held the plug in her hand, a few inches from the outlet. "What do you think?"

  "Would you like me to do it?"

  Sugar bit her lower lip. The answer was very much yes, she would like Charlie to take over, but she'd already fainted once in Charlie's presence and it seemed important that Charlie not see her as a wilting flower. Controlling a tremor in her voice, she said, "No, I'll do it. But if anything with more than four legs ever shows up and it's just you and me, I'd really appreciate it if you'd be the butch."

  "I think . . ." Charlie's gaze swept over Sugar. "If it's just you and me in a room, I'll always be the butch."

  Sugar blushed. She couldn't help it anymore. "How do you do that? I am not the blushing type. I am so out of practice at this."

  "At what?" Charlie's voice was purring again.

  "As if you didn't know. You might get me to blush, Charlie Bronson, but I see through that innocent act."

  Charlie made a dramatic noise of pain. "That hurts."

  "Yeah, right." With no more ado, Sugar pushed the plug into the outlet. After a moment she saw that the power light was illu¬minated. "Wow, so far so good."

  She opened the case and, leaning away as far as she could, pressed the power button. For just a moment she heard the hard drive spin and thought everything was going to be okay. She yelped in surprise as a sudden crack from the case was followed by hissing.

  The lights went out.

  She yelped again and then realized the warm, strong, solid something she was clinging to had to be Charlie. Given the choice between the smell of burnt electrical components and the compli¬cated tang of Charlie's cologne, the cologne won hands down. She told herself that was the only reason her face was buried in Charlie's shoulder.

  After a moment, during which Charlie did not let go of her and Sugar wasn't about to ask her to either, Charlie said, "You wouldn't happen to know where the fuse box is, would you?"