by Mary Campisi
Gina shook her head and sighed. “She’s got a wicked tongue.”
He raised a brow. “She’s got a wicked tongue? Interesting, coming from you.”
“I use mine for protection; she uses hers for destruction. There’s a big difference.”
He had to say he agreed with her. Ben had known a lot of Cynthia Carlisle types, and most of them had no remorse about scratching their way to the prize—usually, a man. He’d been that man a time or two. “If she starts talking trash about you, I’ll take care of it.”
“You?” Those dark eyes sparked. “What are you going to do?”
“Shut her down.” He shrugged. “Make her wish she’d kept her mouth shut and stayed in her big fancy house, using her daddy’s charge card.”
“That’s pretty accurate.”
“Right.” There’d been too many Cynthias before and after Melissa. They were the real vipers, not Gina. “Now about that dinner? What time should I pick you up?”
***
When Ben asked if he could borrow the Heart Sent’s kitchen to fix Gina Servetti dinner, Mimi hid a smile and said, “Absolutely,” followed by, “Lovely girl,” and then, “Need help?”
She’d taught Paul how to make macaroni and cheese, and he grew so skilled at the dish that she served his version to guests. He said white sharp cheddar was the trick and bits of pepper jack gave it a zing. Oh, but that boy had lots of ideas and so much energy; always moving and talking and making plans for his life. He wanted to move out West, live near the ocean, climb a mountain, see a volcano. But he’d done none of those. His life had been ripped away, his hopes splattered on a slick road one night. He’d just turned seventeen.
If he’d lived, she thought he might resemble Ben Reed, if only in the eyes and shape of the mouth. But she pictured her son tall and strong, too, confident and unafraid. Like Ben. Mimi pictured a lot of things for her dead son and found comfort in her mind’s ability to re-create a world where her son still lived. Sometimes that was the only way to get through the day, breathing in, breathing out, waiting for the night to come so you could rejoin the person who owned your heart.
Mimi had loved her husband, too. He was a good man, a hard worker with quiet dreams and a bad heart. Losing him was painful, but expected, and though she grieved the man she’d slept beside for more than thirty years, she did not lose her ability to breathe, as she had when she lost Paul. Losing a child stripped the color straight out of a person’s life, leaving the world bleached out and brittle.
And now Ben Reed was here, and if Mimi looked at him long enough, her vision would blur and she could almost pretend he was Paul. Her heart thanked the good Lord for this small joy, and her soul joined in.
“I want to bake the chicken. No frying, no breading.” Ben pulled two breasts from the package, placed them on a cutting board. “I think I’ll sauté the asparagus with a little olive oil, no butter.”
Mimi adjusted her reading glasses and glanced up from the recipe for mashed cauliflower. Her friend Wanda Cummings swore it was just as good as mashed potatoes and a whole lot less calories. Hmph. How could cauliflower taste as good as creamy mashed potatoes? She guessed if you wanted to take the pounds off bad enough and keep them off, you could convince yourself of anything.
Speaking of convincing, how on earth had Ben Reed talked Gina Servetti into dinner? He’d mentioned bumping into Cynthia Carlisle, “Miss I’m Rich and Make My Own Rules,” but he’d been vague on the dinner invitation with Gina. Well, there was more than one way to ask a question. “I’ve known Gina since she was a little girl and she’s very private about the company she keeps.”
“Uh-huh.” He grabbed a few asparagus, cut away the woody parts, and placed them on a platter. “I can tell.”
“I’m a bit surprised she accepted your dinner invitation.”
He slid her a smile that was so like her son’s, she had to look away. “Me, too.”
She turned back, placed a hand on his arm. “Don’t hurt her.”
Ben set down his knife and met her gaze, his expression serious. “I wouldn’t hurt her.” Pause. “We’re friends.”
Had his voice tripped over the word friend just now? “Does she know that?”
His sigh meant one of two things. Either he was losing patience with her questions, or Gina’s behavior toward him was causing serious aggravation. “What? That we’re friends or that I wouldn’t hurt her?”
“Both,” Mimi said, her voice soft, encouraging.
“Gina’s not like most women. You don’t exactly have a conversation with her about emotions and what things mean.”
“No, I don’t imagine you do. But then, with a family like hers, she’s got reason to keep her true feelings buried so deep inside, she’ll never unearth them.”
***
She should never have agreed to have dinner with him. Why had she done it? Why hadn’t she simply forced a smile and told him “No thank you”? How hard would that have been? With a person like Ben Reed, he probably would have persisted and demanded to know why she turned him down. So, had she come to dinner because he’d coerced her? Of course not. She did want to ask him why he’d conveniently neglected to tell her he’d taken care of Bree, clean feet and all. Why hadn’t he told her? She had a right to know. After all, it happened in her home with her pasta pot and dish towels.
But curiosity about the details of his time with Bree wasn’t the only reason she found herself sitting across from him, eating the chicken he’d prepared, savoring each bite. Ben Reed was a puzzle, a complicated one with missing pieces she hadn’t quite figured out yet. He wasn’t exactly as he appeared, though she wished he were. It would make it so much easier to study his traits and compartmentalize the man. He was arrogant and yet he’d taken care of Bree and somehow kept news of her barefoot travels out of the Magdalena Press. She was sure foot washing wasn’t in the police handbook. Ben Reed was too good-looking and darn it, too well dressed, and yet he’d pushed aside “gorgeous and don’t I know it” Cynthia Carlisle, an almost impossible feat. And what about—
“More wine?”
“No. Thank you.” Gina stared at her empty wine glass. Mindful eating. Mindful drinking. Isn’t that what she’d practiced these last five years, analyzing what went in her mouth, how large the bite, how long she chewed, what state of mind she was in when she sat down to eat? The setting mattered, too. No more on-the-run, multitasking dinner and snack time where she synchronized her book reading to the amount of food on her plate, so engrossed with the story, she could easily triple the serving size she ate by the time she finished a chapter. That all ended the morning she woke up and said, “Enough.” She’d never said anything to her family about her decision to work on her weight and hadn’t dared mention it to Tess and Bree until she’d had bits of success. With time, patience, and more willpower than she thought she possessed, the transformation began. Slowly at first, a quarter inch more room in a shirt, a less uncomfortable pair of jeans, an extra hole in the belt, leading to the need for a better-fitting bra and underwear, and finally, the ultimate reward: buying clothes from the same racks Tess and Bree did. Maybe not the same size, okay, obviously not the same size, but at least in the same section of the store or catalog.
Ben Reed had distracted her and she’d polished off a glass of wine she couldn’t recall drinking and gasp, eating three quarters of her meal. She’d tasted the chicken and the asparagus, commented on the tenderness and flavor, but when had she scarfed it all down? A queasiness grabbed her stomach, threatened to eject the food she’d just eaten. Gina sucked in a deep breath, blew it out through her nose. She could not regress to those earlier days of mindless eating and misery, she simply could not.
“Gina? What’s the matter?”
She glanced up and there he was, looking down at her, studying her face with what looked an awful lot like real concern. “Nothing.” She shook her head, rubbed her left temple. “I’m fine. Really.”
He touched her shoulder and when she tensed,
he removed his hand and stepped back. “Can I get you a glass of water? Fresh air?”
“No. Just go sit down, and give me a minute.” Calm, must remain calm. She inched her gaze to the remaining food on her plate. Mindful eating…mindful eating.
“You know, I think you’re fine just the way you are.”
Gina’s head shot up. “What?”
He pulled out his chair, sat down, his eyes on her. “You.” His gaze slid from her face to her neck, skittered past her breasts, and stopped where the tablecloth hid the rest of her body. “You don’t need to lose any more weight. You’re fine.” That gaze slid back up, slow, slower. “Really.”
What on earth did a woman say to a man after an inappropriate and embarrassing comment like that? Gina opened her mouth to blast him out of his chair, but she couldn’t quite get the words out. While the comment had been inappropriate and definitely embarrassing, it had also been a compliment of sorts. Hadn’t it? She wished Tess or Christine were here to correctly interpret for her. Bree would take anything as a compliment, at least the old Bree would. Who knew what the new one would think.
“Gina?” A dull red crept from his neck to his cheeks. “I’m sorry, that was out of line.” He shrugged and threw her a smile that made her insides twitch. “For a guy whose never bungled conversations with the opposite sex, I’m crashing and burning when I’m around you.”
So, he was uncomfortable, too. The acknowledgment relaxed her. She settled back in her chair and cleared her throat. “Thank you for admitting you’ve been less than chivalrous.”
The smile slipped. “I didn’t say that. I said I bungled my lines.”
“Same thing.” It was her turn to shrug, her turn to smile.
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Yeah, okay, you win. But I meant what I said about you being fine just the way you are.”
“I know that.” Would he just stop?
“Good.” He rubbed his jaw and picked up his glass of wine. “Now your attitude and that mouth of yours? That’s where you might need a little improvement.”
Gina stared him down. “Should I toss the mashed cauliflower at you now, or wait for the next insult, so I can dump the asparagus on your head?”
“See what I mean?” He pointed a finger at her. “You don’t have to get all huffy. I was simply trying to have a conversation and make a suggestion or two.”
“Well, don’t.” Maybe she should toss her water at him, too.
“Not even if it makes you more approachable?”
“I’m as approachable as I want to be.” He really thought he was doing her a favor.
“You don’t have a boyfriend.”
“Is that a question or a statement?”
“Both.”
“None of your business.” And then because he’d annoyed her, she countered with, “Do you have a girlfriend?”
He grinned and studied her. “No. Are you applying for the position?”
“You really are a jerk, you know that? I don’t know how you could be so kind to Bree, which reminds me, you had no business using my pot and dish towels for bathing purposes. Did you not hear of a bathtub?”
“Did you want me in your bathroom, invading that privacy of yours you work so hard to protect?”
He had a point. “No, but I didn’t want you in my house either, and that didn’t stop you.”
“Damn but you are tiring.” He sighed. “Does that sniping never stop?” He uncorked the wine, filled his glass, and took a sip. “No wonder you don’t have a boyfriend.”
“Of course, it couldn’t be because I have no interest in a boyfriend, right? We all know women live and breathe for a man.” I had a boyfriend and he betrayed me.
“Do you really dislike me that much, or is it men in general that you dislike?” he asked, his voice quiet, his expression serious.
She opened her mouth to spit out another biting remark, but the look on his face stopped her. He really did want to know. She should tell him it wasn’t his business because it wasn’t, but when the words slipped out, they were more truth than she’d intended. “I don’t dislike you, but I have a lot of trust issues.”
“Ah.” He nodded, his gaze intense. “Me, too.”
Chapter 9
“When are you coming back?”
Ben sat on the bed and pulled on a shoe. “Why do you want to know, little cousin? So you can clean up my place before I get back?”
“No. Because I miss you.”
“Uh-huh.” Paige either needed money or a favor. Or she was bored. He laced up his shoe, reached for the other one. “Why are you calling me so early?”
“I couldn’t sleep. I can’t believe you haven’t reported those people next door. Their dogs barked all night.”
Jed and Clara, a Golden and a Lab. He thought the owner’s names were Mark and Jennifer, but he couldn’t be sure. “I like those dogs; besides, they’re good deterrents from break-ins.”
“Right. And your high-tech security system isn’t?”
He smiled. Once in a while, his cousin actually saw through his bullshit. “Extra layer of security.”
“Uh-huh. I’m stuck in Philly for the next four weeks.” Her voice dipped into pitiful mode. “I sprained my ankle and they bumped me from the L.A. trip.”
“Damn, I’m sorry.” Ben fastened his utility belt and grabbed his keys. He had three minutes to get out of here or he’d be late for work. “Can’t you just relax?”
“Do you know how hard it is to relax when everybody tells you to relax?” She sighed. “It’s impossible. All you can think about is the reason you aren’t relaxing.” Pause. “Are you sure you can’t get away from that super-secret operation you’re involved with to come home for the weekend?”
Poor Paige, she really thought he was doing undercover. Better she thought that than knowing he was in the same town as Cash Casherdon. That would not sit well. “Sorry, kid. I can’t.”
“You must be in deep.”
If the town ever found out why he’d come here and how he had no intention of staying, he’d be in deep all right, real deep, as in quicksand-sinking deep, with Cash and Gina Servetti at the head of the line to push him in. “Yeah, you could say that.”
“Well, be careful.”
“I always am.”
“And, Ben?”
He paused, hand on the knob. “Yeah?”
“Melissa’s getting married next week.”
Paige’s revelation lodged in his gut, made him queasy with thoughts of Melissa’s future husband next to her in bed, his baby filling her belly. If he thought that jerk really loved her, maybe he could let her go, but how could an arrogant sonofabitch like that love Melissa? Worse, how could she love him? Was Kenneth Stone, Assistant District Attorney, another emotional fixer-upper, like Ben had been? And did she think if she nurtured him with love, kindness, and a baby, then he’d shower her with the one thing she truly wanted—real commitment? Maybe that was it. Maybe Melissa needed to be needed and damn, maybe Kenneth realized that, something Ben hadn’t considered until a few seconds ago. He was still thinking about Melissa and her new family when Jeremy Ross Dean sauntered in with a brown lunch bag and a big grin.
“Hey, Ben, I brought you something.” He dropped the bag on Ben’s desk and pulled up a chair. His blue eyes honed in on the bag as Ben opened it and removed a sandwich.
“Thanks, but you didn’t have to do that.”
“I was getting tired of seeing you eating Lina’s chili.” He lowered his voice and said, “She should use black beans and kidney beans. Mixes things up a bit.”
“Huh.” Who would have thought the kid knew the difference between a black bean and a kidney bean?
“Sorry the chief’s been riding you so much. It wasn’t right that he made you hand out those crosswalk fliers, and when he sent you to Mrs. Tessler, he knew dang well she’d be waiting on you, in that forty-year-old red negligee and nothing underneath.”
That had been a sight. When Rudy sent him to handle Paulett
e Tessler’s call that she’d seen a man running from her house with a bag, Ben hadn’t expected the front door to be ajar, or the woman to call him from upstairs. When he entered the bedroom, he’d gotten an eyeful all right; he’d never seen a seventy-two-year-old woman in a negligee, see-through, no less, and he hoped he’d never have to see one again. He’d covered her with a bathrobe and taken her report on the intruder, even though they both knew there’d been no intruder. “I can’t say I’ve ever encountered that situation before.”
Jeremy grinned and shook his head. “She does that a couple of times a year. Some say she used to be movie-star beautiful, but kind of lost it when her husband up and took off with their cleaning lady.” He shrugged and added, “That’s why the chief goes easy on her; says the husband was her life, seeing as they couldn’t have kids and all.”
Ben had never gotten this much detail on a call before and he wasn’t sure he liked it. Taking off with the cleaning lady? Couldn’t have kids? That should be cataloged under Too Much Information.
“My mother says people go a little nutso sometimes as a way to deal with a pain that’s too deep. That’s what she said happened to Mrs. Tessler.” He paused, his voice turning solemn. “She gave him everything, even gave up having kids because he didn’t want them. Mom says she gave up so much of herself, there was nothing left.” He looked at Ben, his expression puzzled. “You think that a person can do that?”
“Give up so much there’s nothing left of that person? Yes, I do.” He thought of Bree Kinkaid and how she was headed down that path if she didn’t start sticking up for herself.
“I guess. I don’t think my mom and the chief have to worry about that.”
Ben wanted to ask Jeremy what he meant, but before he could ease into the question, the boy slid him a grin and said, “Heard you made dinner for Gina Servetti the other night.”
“How’d you hear that?” Ben kept his expression blank, his voice casual. How the hell did this town find out about other people’s business? He hadn’t said anything and he doubted Gina had. Actually, he’d lay money down that Gina hadn’t said a word to anyone.