Abby raced back and forth, taking time to greet friends at the door while she supervised Lena and Archie in the kitchen, oversaw the waiters, and prepared the entrees herself.
“Try a little of that flowering thyme on the salads, Lena,” she suggested, reaching over to taste a pinch of the herb. “And, Archie, add a little more rind to that next individual orange soufflé. I want it perfect. It’s for Dr. Dellarossa, and you know how fussy he is!”
“No problem, boss. They’re good as ever. Everything’s good.”
“I know, I know.” She congratulated them and herself. “Isn’t it wonderful?”
Surely all the hard work, the past days when she had wakened at six and gone to the markets and worked all day, all that time when she hadn’t seen Jack and known his time here was flying by … surely this was worth it.
Suddenly a strange, unexpected dissatisfaction rose in her. It was a longing as strong as hunger or thirst. It flickered to life deep inside and burned outward along every nerve. Is this enough? Is this all I want? No! her heart insisted with every beat. No! And suddenly she couldn’t stand still, couldn’t concentrate on the lovely, firm fish, the pale-peach-colored sauce, and the plump avocados.…
The whole room spun. Grabbing the edge of the counter, she fanned her face with a towel. “Get hold of yourself, girl! Remember who you are and all the people counting on you!”
Stubbornly she straightened her shoulders and tightened her apron strings. Grabbing a knife, she quickly reduced a mango to a fan of sweet, pale-orange slices.
“What in the world are you doing, Abby?” Simon asked as the kitchen door swung shut behind him. “You’re supposed to be out there looking stunning in that little green dress of yours and mingling with the guests.”
“I’m supposed to be doing exactly what I am doing, Simon. It’s what I do best!” she insisted, trying not to be annoyed with him that night. “You go on and mingle. Just let me know how everything goes out there.”
“Need you ask? It’s fantastic. Absolutely fantastic. By the way, I think we could save a bundle by setting out brown-’n’-serve rolls instead of those piña-colada muffins of yours.”
“I don’t serve frozen rolls, Simon.”
“Well, other than that, dear one, everything is just wonderful.” He smoothed his tux and smiled at his reflection in the oven window. “And now I’d better get back to greeting our customers.”
He pushed open the door to the dining room, but then popped his head back in. “Hey, your family’s here.”
A rush of happiness filled her heart. Whipping off her apron, she hurried past him.
Her parents stood there in the doorway, side by side, dressed in their very best, beaming with pride and happiness. Above the knot of his unaccustomed tie, her father’s Adam’s apple bobbed with emotion. Her mother had tears in her eyes.
At the sight of them, Abby’s own eyes filled with tears. She hurried over and hugged them, then reached past them for Jeanette and hugged her too. “I’m so happy you’re all here with me!”
Then she stole a glance over Jeanette’s shoulder. “Where’s Jack?” she whispered. “I thought you were coming together.”
“Oh, he’s around,” Jeanette said, and grinned.
“Maybe he had to go find him a parking spot way up in Leesburg,” her father said teasingly. “This little place of yours has brought people from all over!” He gave her hand a quick squeeze. “We sure are proud of you, girl.”
“Thank you. Thank you all.” She led them to a special table by the window. “This,” she said with a flourish, “is our new menu, and I want you to try everything! And Simon’s opened lots of champagne, so have a good time, and I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
She raced back to the kitchen.
Jack was there, making Lena and Archie nervous as all get-out with his presence, and Abby only made it worse when she ran to him and wrapped her arms around his neck.
“What are you doing coming in the back door, stranger?”
“I needed one minute alone with you. Just to congratulate you—and give you these.” He pulled a dozen long-stemmed yellow roses out from behind his back. “Success and happiness, Abby,” he whispered, filling her arms with flowers. “I love you.”
Abby pulled him into the pantry.
“Hush, Jack. Not in front of my help!” she whispered, But, lifting herself on tiptoe, she kissed him full on the mouth.
Laughing, he gazed at her with tender exasperation. “How typically Abby! I know it’s a four-letter word, darlin’, but I don’t think they’ll be too shocked—or are you just afraid they’ll know you’re human, and want this as much as I do?” And he kissed her right back, long and hard enough to make her knees buckle.
A sudden sharp knock on the pantry door made them both jump. “Ms. Clarke, you in there? There’s orders comin’ in. You want me to do the cookin’ for a while?”
She yelped. “No, of course not, Lena!” She spun and brushed a hasty kiss across Jack’s lips. “Thank you for the flowers, Jack, and for bringing my family, and—”
“Go cook!” He laughed.
“Later,” she swore as she hurried through the kitchen to put the roses in a vase. “Later we’ll have time.”
“I know. Later,” he repeated as he followed her.
She turned and froze as she saw the flicker of something deep in his dark eyes. Her heart thudded once, twice, against her ribs. “Jack, is everything all right?”
He looked into her hopeful upturned face.
“Yes. Fine,” he assured her, and leaned one broad shoulder against the kitchen wall. “I’ll just stand here and watch you. I’ve missed doing that these last few days.”
“And I missed you too!” She laughed as she put the roses in a vase.
Simon came in and caught her blushing. His sly glance swung around the kitchen. “Oh, look who’s here.”
“Hello, Simon.”
“Hello, Jack.”
The greeting was cold. Although they had crossed paths only a few times during the week, it was obvious the two men didn’t like each other, and they didn’t waste much effort trying to hide it.
“Archie,” Simon ordered, “go get me another case of champagne. I’ve got it chilling in the walk-in.” He swung back to Jack. “So, what do you think of our grand opening?”
“It’s great. Congratulations. And I wish you both the best of luck.”
“Thanks. You’re a prince.”
Anyone who knew him better would have cringed at the flash of anger in Jack’s dark eyes. But Simon blandly drew two bottles from the case Archie carried in and headed for the door. “Bring the rest, Archie,” he commanded, and disappeared.
Abby let her breath out with a hiss. “Ohhh, that partner of mine!”
Jack stared at the closed door, willing the anger out of his face, but his voice still had an edge to it when he muttered, “There’s some safety in being stupid.”
Then he turned to Abby and drew a finger across her cheek. “Just don’t let him spoil your night, Abby. He isn’t worth it.”
Abby took his advice and reveled in the rest of the evening. As she cooked, she kept up a stream of chatter about the dishes she was preparing, the customers, the town, old local yarns about citrus and railroads and Seminoles—and about her own childhood. She felt as though she had the best of everything: The Paradise open again and Jack there to share it!
All of a sudden it was midnight. The last customer was ushered, full and smiling, out the door. Abby dropped back against it, radiant with happiness. “We did it! Boy, oh boy, did we ever! Did you hear those compliments? Did you feel that excitement? They loved us!”
“What’s not to love?” Jack answered, grinning back at her.
“Damn right!” Simon chimed in. “Here, let’s drink to the best partnership south of the Mason-Dixon!” He poured two glasses of champagne, then reluctantly filled a third.
“Oh, let’s have everyone celebrate!” Abby said, too happy to pay any at
tention to his pettiness. “Everyone front and center!” she called, and poured glasses of champagne for Lena and Archie and even a tiny bit for her two busboys. “Okay, crew, here’s to all of us!”
Cleaning up, they finished off another bottle of champagne. Tipsy, tired, but totally happy now, Abby turned on the radio and did a little two-step around the room.
Jack watched her for a moment, his dark eyes reflecting a slim, pretty girl in an emerald green dress, its thin straps falling off her shoulders, its skirt swinging about her legs—and then he had to hold her. When he took her in his arms, they danced around the tables. He moved lightly for such a big man, country-dancing her around the room, then swinging her into a little lindy. Happy, laughing, they looked deep into each other’s eyes.
Simon’s jealousy was written plainly on his face. “Well, if you don’t need me, I’m going home.” His voice was a whine. “I’m exhausted!”
“ ’Night,” Abby replied, matching her steps to Jack’s, swinging out to the beat of the music, catching Jack’s hand and sliding back into the warm curve of his arm. Spinning out and back, she felt the world spin with her like a merry-go-round, while she held the golden ring. When a slow song came on, she leaned contentedly against Jack’s chest, wrapped her arms around his neck, and closed her eyes.
There was a knock on the door.
“We’re closed!” Abby called happily, resting her cheek against Jack’s shoulder. “Come back tomorrow for lunch!”
The knocking continued, growing louder and more insistent.
She and Jack shared a quick, puzzled look, and then Abby shrugged out of his arms and opened the door.
Two men, dressed by Gentleman’s Quarterly, but nasty-looking, leaned against the doorway.
Abby took an involuntary step back. “I’m sorry, we’re closed.”
“But we were invited to the party,” the older, slicker of the two answered with a leer. “We’re here to see Simon.”
“Simon’s left,” Jack said, stepping from the shadows. He placed himself between Abby and the door. “You can leave a message.”
The two laughed unpleasantly, as if sharing some in joke. They looked casually around Jack’s solid bulk at the dining room. “Sure, tell him his partners were here. Tell him we drove all the way from Miami and were sure sorry to miss all the fun.”
“I’ll tell him.”
“Hey, is that the little lady he’s in business with?”
Jack stiffened. Abby could almost see the hair rise along the back of his neck. It was like seeing two hyenas taunt a lion. But Jack only shifted his weight, took his hands from his pockets, and stared at them coldly.
“Hey, no problem, man!” The first backed off. “See, we’re his partners, and she’s his partner, and that sort of makes us relatives, don’t it? We’re just looking to be friendly.”
“Nice of you,” Jack said.
“Yeah,” one said. “We’re nice guys.”
In tandem they swaggered over to a silver Mercedes and drove away.
“Yuck!” Abby exclaimed, wiping her damp palms on her apron skirt. “That was like a scene from ‘Miami Vice.’ ”
Jack shut the door and turned to her. “What do you know about Simon?”
Abby shrugged. “Not that much. I had my lawyer check him out when he approached me with the partnership offer. He ran a credit check, got references, all of that stuff.”
“And what did you learn?”
“He’s rich. Family money. He’d made some good investments in real estate down in Coconut Grove and the Keys. He even owns a restaurant, a raw bar, in Key Largo, and it’s making money. He sounded good. And he was willing to let me keep control of the operations end.”
“Then why the complaints that he’s always butting into your ordering, your menus, your kitchen help?”
“Well”—she sidestepped, feeling horribly uncomfortable—“he hasn’t quite stuck to that part of the bargain.”
“Make him,” Jack said shortly.
“Make him?” Abby gasped. “How?” She jutted her chin out at him, her eyes flashing.
“Tell him to stay the hell out of the food end or it’s finished.”
“Finished?” she echoed, her hands and voice suddenly trembling, “I’d be finished! I haven’t got a cent without his money, and I’m up to my ears in debt for all this remodeling, and—and I probably shouldn’t have done it all, but I’ve always had this dream, and—and—” Tears spilled down her cheeks.
“Hush, darlin’. Shhh.” He grabbed her and held her close, his handsome face twisted in pain. “Hush, don’t cry. I’m sorry. Damn me, I didn’t mean to make you cry!”
There was a haze of pain in his eyes, and his voice was a strangled groan as he tipped her face up and wiped it with the tips of his fingers.
Some salty tears escaped his hands and raced to the corners of her mouth. She swiped at them with the tip of her tongue. “Now, why did I do that?” She laughed in embarrassment. “Oh, goodness, this isn’t like me at all!”
Jack’s laugh was husky with relief. “Sure! I’ve heard that before.”
“Oh, Gallagher, you do bring out the baby in me.” She shook her head in dismay.
“I can love the baby in you as much as I love the woman. Just let me take care of you a little. I’ve got two strong arms. Let me hold you safe. It would do me good too,” he whispered, and wrapped her in his arms.
“Oh, you’re sweet, Gallagher.”
“No, not sweet. Selfish. I’m running out of time, darlin’. I’m going to have to go back—at least for a while—”
“No!” she cried with sudden, unexpected fierceness. “No, don’t say that. I won’t let you talk about that tonight!”
“But, Abby—”
“No! It’s too unfair. I had to work hard this week, and I lost all that time with you, and I will riot talk about your going back. That’s all. That’s final.”
He stood still, a war raging silently inside him, visible only in the muscles tensing in his jaw.
Abby refused to see. Letting go of the stranglehold she had on him, she raised her hands to his strained face and playfully lifted the corners of his mouth. “Don’t look so worried. We’ll work it out, Gallagher.”
“I know that, dammit!” He groaned. “But it isn’t easy.”
“Who said anything about easy?” she murmured, leaning her cheek on his shoulder. “But we got through opening night—”
“Had a fabulous opening night!” he corrected, stroking the delicate ridge of her spine.
“Yes, you’re right. And tomorrow night will be a breeze. And then I have all Sunday off! Interested?”
“Vaguely,” he answered softly. He bent his head and nuzzled against the tender skin of her throat, then caught her earlobe between his teeth and gave it a sharp little nip.
“Jack!” Giggling, she wriggled against him, flooded by the now-familiar stirring of her passion. “Let me turn off the lights, and we’ll go home,” she whispered.
He leaned back, narrowing his eyes. “We’ll go to my place.”
“Your place?” she echoed. “You mean your motel?”
“I found a houseboat for short term rental on the St. Johns. Docked it at a curve of the river. And I’ve got a Jeep to get us there.”
“Oh, you’ll never change.” She laughed.
“Do you want me to?” His expression was serious.
“No, not at all.”
They locked up the Paradise and stepped out into the heavy, sultry night. “Whew!” Jack muttered, drawing a deep breath. “This is like filling your lungs with wet cotton!”
“It gets better,” Abby assured him, slipping her hand into his. “The rain will start soon. Then you’ll see something!”
They were quiet as he headed the car out onto the highway. She sat close to him, absorbing the reassuring solidness of his body through her arm, her hip, her thigh. The warm, hard length of him was more soothing than all those glasses of champagne.
“It will all
be okay, won’t it?” she asked, looking up at him.
“Yes, darlin’, it’ll be okay. I’ll help you make it okay. I promise.” And he dropped an arm around her shoulders.
She rested her cheek against his shoulder, and never felt the rising tide of her exhaustion as it rose up to claim her.
The next thing she knew was that she was being carried somewhere, as lightly and carefully as a baby, and dropped down into the cool, floating peace of sleep.
She woke up early and alone, and looked around in surprise. The sun was streaming in the windows, a thousand frogs were singing, and the bed rocked gently back and forth, back and forth.
And then she realized where she must be, and hurried, dressed only in her sleep-wrinkled slip, through the short hallway of the houseboat.
Jack was sitting at the kitchen table, reading a month-old copy of Sports Illustrated and drinking coffee.
“ ’Morning,” she said softly, and then steadied her footing as the boat rode the wake of a passing motorboat. “This is fun!” She smiled, feeling suddenly shy.
Jack was bare-chested, his jeans slung low on his hips, his bare feet pushed into a pair of sneakers. His hair was rumpled, but his eyes looked as if he hadn’t slept in weeks. His gaze lingered hungrily on the silk-covered curves of her breasts and hips, the hollow of her throat, the tousled blond hair.
With great effort he offered her a smile. “Glad you like it, Abby.”
“Oh, I do. Okay if I get a cup of coffee?”
“Of course,” he answered, his voice low and husky.
She sat across from him at the table. “Funny, but I guess I didn’t realize how worn out I was. I fell asleep, huh?” She bit her lower lip. “So—what happened?” She was teasing, trying to be cute.
“Same as always, darlin’. Nothing at all.” He was also teasing, but only partly.
This was getting damn hard to deal with, and he could feel the tension rising within him, building, threatening to explode. A few more days like this and there’d be hell to pay. Dammit! And there she sat, all tanned skin and blond hair, that mouth that kept him from wanting any other mouth, those eyes that gave back the only image of himself he wanted.
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