by LuAnn McLane
“Well?”
“Oh, now this is some good stuff. Could be dangerous,” Maria added and then licked a few grains of sugar clinging to her bottom lip. “You do make an excellent martini, Pete.”
“Thanks. I’m always trying out new recipes. I’ll add this one to the drink list. I’ll call it the Maria Sully Special,” he said, and then wondered how she’d take that comment. He was trying his best to flirt. “Is that okay with you?”
“I think it’s really cool to have a drink named after me.” She lifted her glass. “Maria Sully it is.”
“You forgot the Special part.”
Maria flicked a glance at him and smiled. She took another taste. “Ah, it gets better with each sip.”
“Even better with the next glass. There’s more in the shaker. You know what they say about a martini. One martini is all right. Two is too many and three are not enough. James Thurber.”
Maria laughed and then raised her glass. “I’ll drink to that.”
“I never go jogging. It makes me spill my martini,” Pete said in his best George Burns imitation.
Maria arched an eyebrow. “I like to have a martini, two at the very most. After three I’m under the table; after four I’m under my host. Dorothy Parker,” Maria said with a chuckle.
Pete had another martini quote on the tip of his tongue, but the image of her under the host slammed into his brain and slid south. Judging by the sudden pink in her cheeks, Maria might be thinking something similar. Or perhaps it was just the alcohol, he reasoned. “So what brings you over?” Pete asked, hoping she might say to see him.
Maria reached for the small bowl of peanut mix and, just as he thought, picked out the sesame sticks. “I wanted to talk to you about starting the songwriters’ showcase here at the tavern that we talked about. An open mic night kind of thing, but not cover songs, only self-written music. Are you interested in getting it off the ground?”
Oh, so this was business. Pete shoved his disappointment to the side and nodded. “I like the idea. We could eventually open up Sully’s South in Restaurant Row.”
“This could get the ball rolling and if we publicize it I think we can get some pretty big names from Nashville.”
“We already have a big name,” Pete said with a smile. He was so damned proud of her accomplishments and wished he’d stood behind her years earlier and not let his pride or fear get in the way. The knowledge that he’d hurt the only woman he’d ever loved plagued him every single day after she left. How many hundreds of times had he picked up the phone to call? Grabbed his truck keys to go after her and bring her back to Cricket Creek, where she belonged? But after Maria became an acclaimed songwriter Pete worried that she would think he wanted her back because of her success.
And so the years passed …
Maria smiled, but he saw a haunting sadness in her blue eyes. She dropped her gaze to her drink. “I’d also love to have Cat Carson and Jeff Greenfield here on Friday to debut a duet they’re working on. It if garners good audience appeal then we plan on releasing it as a single.”
“But I thought Jeff had a band.”
“He does. But Jeff is the star and he needs to remember that little detail. Besides, this is just a little experiment.” She picked up another sesame stick.
“So what’s your opinion of them?”
“They’re amazing together. The chemistry is downright explosive. But neither of them is really all that keen on collaborating, especially Jeff. I hope that a strong audience reaction will change their minds. So is it okay?”
“Sure. And, hey, would you like to get together and talk about open mic night over dinner?” Pete’s heart beat rapidly while he waited for her answer. “We could put together some publicity ideas. I’m sure that the Cricket Creek Courier will want to do an article. I know Trish Daniels, who writes about local cuisine and entertainment. I can give her a call.”
“Oh, is she a friend of yours?” Maria lowered her eyes and picked up a peanut.
Was Maria jealous? Pete felt a flash of pleasure at the possibility. “Trish did a nice write-up about Sully’s a while back. She raved about my martinis and she was duly impressed that we offer more than traditional bar food and have healthy choices on the menu. Of course, as you know, I can thank Clint for that.”
“Oh, how nice.” She popped another peanut into her mouth and washed it down with a sip of her drink.
Pete hid his grin. “Yeah, but listen to this. Trish wrote a rather bad review of River Row Pizza and Pasta.”
Maria frowned. “I heard the pizza there was delicious.”
“It is. She was there the day they opened and it was a disaster. But get this—I overheard a few days ago that she is engaged to Tony Marino, the owner.”
Maria laughed. “Well, I guess he must have forgiven her.”
Pete risked putting his hand over hers. “Yeah, he sure did.” He cleared his throat. “So how about that dinner, Maria?”
“Do you mean eat here?”
“No.” Pete shook his head. “Maybe we can go to Wine and Diner Saturday night? The Cougars have a day game so Clint can keep an eye on things for me. I’m thinking about hiring more staff. I’d like to get away from here for a night if that’s okay with you?”
“Um, yeah, sure,” Maria finally agreed.
“I’ll even put on a shirt with a collar and wear my dress boots,” Pete said with a grin. He’d wear a damned suit and tie if that’s what it took to get Maria to spend an evening with him.
“I’m flattered,” Maria said with a crooked smile. “I know how you detest dressing up.”
Pete always dressed up on their wedding anniversary and took her out wherever she wanted to go. He looked at her and his heart constricted. So many lost years. Would she ever even consider taking him back? “Not for you,” he said, and saw her startled expression.
“Pete …” She gave him a wary look that hit him in the gut.
“Some things do change, Maria,” he interrupted quietly. He wondered when he would have the nerve, the courage to tell her that he’d never stopped loving her and never would. He wanted to say more but the crowd started pouring in and he was going to have to tend to his customers. This wasn’t the place or time to go there and he told himself to be patient and to earn her trust. He would not, could not ever cause her hurt or pain again.
“I need to get going,” Maria said.
“Can’t you stay for a while?” Pete asked, but reluctantly removed his hand. There was a time when his pride would allow him to plead and it had cost him big-time. “You still have the rest of your martini in the shaker.”
“I’m meeting up with Rick Ruleman a little later. I know we’ve already bounced around some ideas about doing this but needed to run this by you first to make sure you’re still on board.”
“I understand,” Pete said, but then, needing to touch her, reached over and covered her small hand with his. “I’ll pick you up at six Saturday, or do you prefer later?”
“Six is fine,” she said with a small smile and then stood up. “Oh, how much do I owe you for the martini?”
“You know better than to ask me that,” Pete said gruffly.
Maria nodded and the smile she gave him this time was bigger. She started to turn around but then said, “Oh, and Pete?”
His heart thudded. “Yeah?”
Maria pointed to his face. “I like the clean-shaven face. It takes years off you.”
“Then I’m keeping it shaved,” Pete promised.
I did it hoping to please you, Pete wanted to say, but the words stuck in his throat. “Like I said, I needed a change,” he replied with a slight shrug.
“Ah …” Something flickered in her eyes, making him wonder whether she’d guessed the truth. When he opened his mouth to confess, someone called her name and she turned to greet them.
When the customers started coming up to the bar, his lack of beard was going to cause quite a stir. Good. It would take his mind off wishing Maria would come b
ehind the bar and help him serve and then get up and sing just like the old days before he’d told her she needed to give up her pie-in-the-sky songwriting dream and raise Clint. He’d been so damned wrong. “Maria, wait a minute.”
“Okay.”
Pete hurried from behind the bar and pulled her in for a quick hug. Her floral scent washed over him and it was all he could do not to drag her into the back hallway and kiss her, but he knew he needed to go slowly, tread softly. “It was good seeing you,” he said in her ear and then stepped away.
“Same here.” Maria nodded, but when he would have said more she quickly turned away. He stood there and watched her walk out the door and felt an immediate sense of loss. But she was having dinner with him Saturday night. It might be about business, but it was at a restaurant and not here. It was a start and Pete planned on taking full advantage, pulling out all the stops to get her back. If he didn’t win her love again, his heart would be forever broken, but this time he wasn’t going down without a fight.
“Hey, baby face, could you quit yer daydreamin’ and get me a Kentucky Ale?” Jack Kemper shouted to Pete. “By the way, you’re lookin’ kinda girly without the beard,” Jack added. He pointed to his own bushy growth of several inches. “Now this is the face of a real man.”
“Here ya go.” Pete slid a cold longneck down the bar with an expert flick of his wrist and Jack deftly caught it. “And if ya care to arm wrestle I think I’ll prove who’s the real man, beard or no beard,” Pete challenged.
“Maybe later,” Jack replied with a wave of his hand. “I wouldn’t want to embarrass ya.”
Pete chuckled. Other than his son, Clint, or some of the Cougar baseball team players, there were few men in Cricket Creek who could best him in arm wrestling. He listened to more jokes about his clean-shaven face. Some patrons didn’t even recognize him and when he went to the bathroom in his office and looked in the mirror he was momentarily startled. He did look much younger without the beard—and physically fit too, thanks to Clint. Pete reached up and rubbed his hand over his chin. Did Maria find him attractive? Damn, she worked with countless famous singers. How could he begin to stack up next to the men in the circles she ran in?
Pete shrugged his wide shoulders and then leaned his hands against the cool edge of the sink. “All I can do is give it my best shot.”
Pete sighed. Seeing her in passing when she popped into town had been tough as hell. But now that Maria lived in Cricket Creek and he’d been seeing her on a regular basis—if only for business—he had to wonder how in the world he’d managed to live without her for all these years without going completely crazy. If she’d dated, he didn’t know about it and never asked Clint anything more than about her well-being. Imagining her in the arms of another man was just too much to bear, so he never let his brain go there. Pete shook his head. Damn, just seeing smarmy John Jameson touch her was enough to make his blood boil.
Pete gripped the sink harder and then pushed back. Although they’d been divorced for years, he’d never really stopped thinking of Maria as his wife. And he’d never even considered dating, because he knew no one would ever be able to take her place in his heart. So why even bother?
Pete felt a zing of excitement at the thought of the romantic setting on the patio at Wine and Diner. Maria might think this was all business, but to him it was so much more. He wondered whether he should show up with flowers, or would that seem like a date? Would the prospect of a date scare Maria away or was it what she’d been waiting for all along?
And then another thought hit him. Just what in the hell was he going to wear? His wardrobe had never been much to write home about in the first place, and the recent weight loss made the selection even smaller. He ran a hand over his smooth cheeks. If he wanted to put his best foot forward, he was going to have to enlist some help or end up on Maria’s doorstep looking like a big-ass dork. No, he wanted to have her look at him with admiration and perhaps desire.
Pete closed his eyes and swallowed hard. He’d gotten a hug out of her here and there but he wanted more. How would Maria react to a kiss?
God, Pete’s heart thudded at the mere thought of having her mouth pressed to his. But the big question was, would she fall into his arms or shove him away?
“Ah, boy.” Pete inhaled a deep breath and looked at himself in the mirror once more. “I guess there’s only one way to find out.”
7
I Wanna Hold Your Hand
CAT LET THE SERENE BEAUTY WASH OVER WHILE SHE followed the worn path through the woods. Spongy moss cushioned her feet and the clean, earthy scent of nature filled her head. She didn’t plan to hike very far, and Jeff had advised her that she’d be fine if she stuck close to the path. If she did happen to lose her way, all she had to do was follow the gurgling creek that fed into the river and it would lead back to her cabin. Her sense of direction was sketchy at best but this was simple enough … right?
As Cat hiked, snippets of lyrics slid into her brain, and if she’d had a pen and paper, she would have sat down on a rock or fallen log and started writing. The quiet, the solitude, felt so peaceful and helped ease the stress of knowing she and Jeff were going to perform “Second Chances” at Sully’s on Friday evening.
Cat knew that Jeff’s band wanted nothing to do with her. She’d overheard a phone conversation about jamming at some place called Big Red and she wasn’t invited. While she understood that South Street Riot didn’t want Cat and Jeff to become a duo—they thought it would change the dynamics of where they wanted to take their music—Cat knew they were talented musicians and she wouldn’t be opposed to going on the road with them. Because, like it or not, after a couple of days of rehearsal it was completely clear that her and Jeff’s voices blended together and complemented each other perfectly. Cat had been in the business long enough to know they had that elusive special something that would set them apart from others. Maria certainly knew it, and she wasn’t shy about reminding Cat whenever she got the chance.
Cat stopped to catch her breath. A light breeze cooled her skin and brushed her hair across her cheek. She gazed up at the tall pines reaching toward the blue sky. The treetops seemed to be poking toward puffy cotton ball clouds snagging at them as they lazily drifted by without a care in the world.
Although she’d never admit it to Jeff since he remained so stubbornly opposed, the idea of becoming a duo was kind of growing on Cat. She nibbled on the inside of her bottom lip and thought about it for a moment.
Or maybe Jeff Greenfield was growing on her.
Cat closed her eyes for a moment, trying to chase away the vision of Jeff, but it failed to work.
Okay … there was no maybe.
Cat was totally attracted to him. She kicked at a jagged rock with the toe of her hiking boot and sighed. Jeff represented everything she ever wanted in a man. He came from a solid background and made no bones about how much he cared about his farm and his family all the way down to his dogs, especially Little John, who was evidently as big as a horse. Cat tilted her head to the side. What would it have been like to be raised in a big, sprawling farmhouse filled with laughter and chaos? Cat knew they still shared a big family Sunday dinner; Jeff had spoken of it, and Cat secretly wished he’d invite her.
And during a break when Cat had heard Jeff chatting on the phone with his mother, begging her to bake an apple pie, she’d all but melted. His gentle, teasing tone had been laced with love. Jeff might not have realized he’d been grinning the entire time he’d spoken with his mom, which Cat found endearing and oh so very sexy.
Cat took a sip from her water bottle and then started walking again, this time at a slower pace. She loved her parents dearly, and while she was so very proud of the charity work they did, Cat missed them so much. A little ache settled in her chest, and she sighed. Sometimes she just felt so alone.
While people might envy Cat’s wealthy family, all money had done was make her childhood lonely and then isolated after a kidnapping incident left her paren
ts shaken to the core. Eventually, Cat’s parents sold their sprawling estate in South Carolina and moved to Chicago, where they’d poured most of their time and money into doing good works. Cat smiled softly and then shook her head at the memory of what her mother had disclosed on the evening before Cat had left for Cricket Creek.
“Mom, whatever made you and Dad decide to devote your lives to charity work?”
A shadow had passed over her mother’s face.
“I’m sorry. Did I ask something wrong? I’m totally proud, but I’ve never really completely understood.”
Her mother had stared down at her wineglass as if the rich red liquid held all the answers, and then glanced at her father, who nodded as if to say, Tell her. “I … We made a promise.” When she swallowed hard, Cat’s father reached over and took her mother’s hand.
“Jules …” he’d said in a gruff voice. “You don’t have to speak of it,” he added.
“It’s okay, Daniel,” she’d assured him with a shaky smile. “Cat, when … when there was the … the kidnapping. I promised God that I’d devote my life to good works if he’d … if we got you back safely.” She sniffed and then smiled at her father with such love in her eyes that Cat had felt her own throat constrict. Her parents were completely devoted to each other and it showed. “Nothing mattered to us but your safety.”
“We wouldn’t relive that horror for absolutely anything,” her father explained. “But the result was living a rich and rewarding life helping others. We were forever changed, but for the better.”
“Why didn’t you ever tell me this?” Cat had asked gently.
“I never speak of it,” her mother had said, “because it brings back that horrific fear.” She’d put a hand to her chest and shuddered.
“Well, I don’t remember anything,” Cat assured them. But that wasn’t entirely true, even though she’d been only two years old when the incident occurred. Every so often she had nightmares about a small dark space and she suffered from claustrophobia. To this day she slept with a night-light. The smell of car exhaust sometimes made her break out into a cold sweat, making Cat guess that she’d been locked inside of a trunk. Although she wanted to know whether that was the case, the stark look of fear on her mother’s pale face always made her refrain from asking more and she’d turned the subject to something else.