Lily stopped when the Sugar Shock logo flashed back on the screen, and Carly held her breath, knowing that they were surely up next. Shelley welcomed the audience back to the show and took them on a trip down memory lane, reminding viewers of season-three contestants Carly and Michael and their volatile relationship. They included the infamous scene where she’d thrown the bag full of bright blue buttercream at Michael, and she had to laugh as it splattered across his otherwise pristine chef’s whites. Clips from their original season confessional interviews aired, and Carly was horrified to see how nasty and hateful she came off when she was asked about Michael, especially compared to how he laughed about their rivalry. She cringed at footage of her sneering into the camera, deriding Michael’s success and calling him “a ridiculous excuse for a man.” She looked away from the screen as a scene showed her rolling her eyes at something Michael said during the competition.
Seeing it now, it was no surprise that she’d been sent home. He was professional while she was emotional, and her behavior was appalling. It was no wonder he could let her go so easily. She’d never given him a reason to think that she’d be a good bet, had always focused on dragging him down.
The interview between the two of them began, and Lily turned to her, brown eyes wide, smile even wider. “You like him! I thought I saw something between you two the first time I watched the episode. Now I’m certain.”
“What? Don’t be ridiculous!” Carly sipped her wine, a telltale blush creeping into her pale cheeks.
“Look at that body language. You’re practically curled into him like a cat. And he clearly has it bad for you, sister. I love the way he looks at you, like a man in love.” She sighed and put a hand over her heart. “It’s so romantic.”
“It’s an act, all for the camera. He’s an old pro, remember? Trust me, Michael Welch is not a man in love. Not with me at least.”
They cut to scenes spliced from their cooking lesson, and even Carly felt her breath catch when she saw the two of them together. They danced like two lovers who couldn’t get enough of one another, as though no matter how close they got, it would never be close enough. Michael’s eyes burned with passion as he looked down at her during their impromptu dance, and she looked as though she might melt into him. Together, they looked like they actually knew what they were doing. He was confident enough to lead, and she was brave enough to trust him.
“How can you not see it? You two were made for one another. I can’t believe you let him get away. I just can’t.” Lily threw up her hands. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with you, girl.”
“He left. I didn’t let him get away.” She couldn’t deny it any longer. She had fallen for Michael, and now he was gone.
Scenes from their time at the microbrewery flashed by in a blur as tears filled Carly’s eyes. They sat side by side at the bar, heads inclined as they ate, and he dipped a French fry in ketchup before feeding it to her. He followed it with a sweet kiss, and her heart broke as she watched him tilt her chin up to meet his lips before whispering in her ear.
Had she known how much she would crave his touch when he was gone, she would’ve memorized every moment they had together. Lily scooted toward her and pulled her into her arms, rubbing her back in gentle circles. “Aw, honey, I was teasing you. I’m sorry. You really miss him, don’t you?”
She couldn’t answer, but nodded and sniffled loudly. Hot tears rolled down her cheeks, landing in fat puddles on her jeans as she pulled away from her friend. “I don’t know how it happened, but somehow I fell for him.” It hurt, but it was a relief to finally say it out loud.
Lily patted her hand. “From the looks of it, he fell for you, too. Why didn’t you ask him to stay?”
She took a deep, shuddering breath and swiped the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand. “All he ever really wanted was to have his own show. He said he would stay if I wanted him to, that he would turn down the pilot, but I wasn’t about to ask him to give that up for me.”
“Wait, he actually said that he would stay with you if you wanted? Does he know how you feel about him?”
“Of course not. I didn’t even admit it to myself until now. I couldn’t ask him to give up the chance to have his own show, not for me at least. I’m not the type of woman he goes for, and the last thing I wanted was for him to have to let me down easy.”
“You are ridiculous, Carly Piper. You’re beautiful, smart, and talented, and Michael Welch is clearly smitten with you.” Lily squeezed her hand. “He’d be lucky to have you, and from the looks of it, he knows it.”
Carly scoffed. “Yeah, right. Have you seen the women he dates? I’m easily twice their size.”
“Stop it, that’s enough. You like him, and he clearly likes you. Anyone with half a brain can see that. No more of this ‘woe is me, I’m not good enough for the amazing Michael Welch’ nonsense. If you don’t at least try to tell him how you really feel, I’ll never believe that you actually want to be happy.”
Wow. Was Lily right? Had she sabotaged her chance at happiness? She’d told herself that the relationship was a charade, that none of it was real, but maybe she’d just been guarding her heart against disappointment. He’d never given her any reason to believe that she wasn’t the kind of woman he’d be interested in. Too scared to take a chance, she’d let herself believe that the risk wasn’t worth the possibility of heartbreak. Little did she realize that heartbreak could come either way, whether she guarded her heart or handed it to Michael on a silver platter.
“If he didn’t have feelings for you, he wouldn’t have thought twice about staying behind to shoot the pilot. He asked if you wanted him to stay because part of him probably wanted you to say yes.”
“But I didn’t say yes because I was too sure that he didn’t care.”
She watched the screen as they kissed in the microbrewery parking lot, like a couple in love, and she saw what she’d tried so hard to deny. It was real.
• • •
Michael locked the door of his temporary L.A. apartment behind him and dropped his keys on the kitchen bar as he headed straight for the refrigerator. Takeout leftovers and a six-pack of Amber Wolf lager lined the metal shelves, and he pulled a bottle out. As he pulled the cap off and took the first ice-cold drink of the brew, he tried not to think of Carly and the brief time they’d spent together. Some days, if he concentrated on his new show hard enough, he could pretend it never happened, if only for a few hours. The nights were hard, though, when he returned to an empty apartment with nothing to keep him company but his memories.
Damn, he was losing it. How many different ways could he tell himself that she didn’t care if he stayed or left? She couldn’t have made it any clearer that her feelings for him hadn’t changed one bit. He dropped onto the scratchy furnished sofa and flipped on the television as he toed off his shoes. If he had half a brain, he’d focus on making sure the new pilot was a success. The last thing he needed was to tank another show. Second chances were few and far between, especially for guys like him.
Freaking Sugar Shock came on, and he found himself unable to change the channel, even though he’d seen their episode already. Considering how often they reran programs, he was liable to see it twenty times before it cycled out of rotation. He smiled as he watched the blue icing splatter across his chef’s whites, the look of disgust on Carly’s face as she talked about him in her confessional interview, and the way he laughed off her irritation. They danced in the kitchen as Antonio watched, and a lump formed in his throat.
They were perfect together, a beautiful pair, and he’d let her slip through his fingers without really trying to keep her. Watching the two of them glide around the cramped space, her trusting him with the final dip, he could practically feel her in his arms again. Closing his eyes, he could see her, close enough to kiss the faint freckles sprinkled across her nose. He’d replayed their night of passion together a hundred times, could recall the feel of her silky auburn hair in his hands and the w
ay her body fit against his perfectly. He’d never forget the need he saw in her eyes, either to help her through the show or to take her in the bed they’d shared.
Why was he watching this? It was impossible to deny his feelings for her when they played out on his television, night after night. His cell phone buzzed, rattling against the glass coffee table, and he muted the show to answer.
“What’s up, hoss?” Rusty Grainger’s robust twang came through the line.
“Rusty! How are you, man?” Michael settled back against the cushions.
“Good, good, can’t complain, and nobody would listen if I did.” He laughed at his own joke. “Listen, I wanted to see if you had some simpler cake ideas for the groom’s cake that you could send over.”
“Carly’s having trouble with the cake?” That was a surprise. Their styles were wildly different, but he’d never met another baker as talented as she was. His instructions were clear, and the design was well within her ability.
“Naw, man, Carly’s a trooper, but I don’t want to lose her, too. This would strictly be for backup, just in case.”
“What? Why would you lose her?” He sat up on the couch. Surely they weren’t going to cancel their contract because he’d backed out?
“Sequoia is worried about the karma or the energy or something, dude. She thinks that Carly’s tears over your breakup will fall into the cake batter and infuse it with sorrowful energy or something. Her words, not mine, obviously. She made Carly do some kind of cleansing ritual, but if anything goes wrong, I think Sequoia will see it as a sign and call the whole thing off. It won’t take much.” He chuckled.
“Are you serious?” And there were tears over the breakup?
“As a heart attack. I think it’ll be fine, but I don’t want to take any chances. Sequoia always worries about negative emotions affecting our union.”
“Her words, I guess?” Michael wanted to laugh, but he couldn’t believe that Sequoia’s beliefs might affect Carly’s job. Or that Carly had a broken heart. As much as it gutted him to think of her in pain, a part of him hoped that she really was brokenhearted over letting him go.
“You know it.” He could hear the smile in Rusty’s voice, his words infused with affection for his quirky fiancée. Michael understood, and it hurt like hell that he didn’t have Carly around to love regardless of her quirks.
Sure, he told her he’d stay if she wanted, but now he realized that was a cop-out. If he’d been man enough to admit that he’d fallen for her, she might have stomped all over his heart, but at least he would’ve put it out there. Instead, he’d put the burden on her to decide the fate of their relationship, and probably pushed her into thinking that he didn’t care what she did. He was a coward, and he’d lost a good woman because of it. Not only that, but he’d compromised her professional life, too.
Chapter Twelve
Carly swirled icing onto the last of three-dozen perfect but boring pink princess-themed cupcakes for a little girl’s birthday party and boxed them neatly into Caketopia’s signature lavender boxes. Once they were stacked neatly on her worktable, she threw away the plastic piping bag and washed the decorating tip, trying to tell herself that she found just as much joy in providing beautiful cupcakes for a kid’s birthday party as she did creating the Grainger-Rivers wedding cake. As the warm water sluiced over her hands and into the stainless steel sink, she reasoned that even if Sequoia Rivers was a kook, she might be onto something. Carly couldn’t think of anything lately except losing Michael and how stupidly sad she was over the whole thing. But in her heart of hearts, she knew she’d done the right thing. He was meant for more than working at a bakery, and no matter how much she wanted him for herself, she had to let him go.
She dried off the metal decorating tip and returned it to her case. Everything in its place. Layla came in, knocking on the doorframe as she walked, and seated herself at Carly’s worktable.
“These for the Sophie Chambers party?” She indicated the stack of bakery boxes.
“Yep, just finished up with those and ready for the next order.” Carly busied herself drying her hands and avoided eye contact with her employee.
“Great, because we’re backed up. I’ll take these to the refrigerated case for you, and then we have something like a dozen new orders to talk about.” Layla looked at Carly over the tops of her red-framed glasses. “What really happened with Michael Welch in Los Angeles?”
Carly’s shoulders slumped. “Nothing happened. You know as much as I do, really.”
“I doubt that. You look too depressed for a woman who just got the job of a lifetime and doesn’t have to share the spotlight.” Layla’s gaze was pointed, unflinching. “You want to tell me what’s going on? I thought it was really strange when you told me that you were together, and even more strange when you came back without him, but things are clearly much more serious than I thought. We can talk about it, if you want.”
Carly blew out a breath and shot a glance to the door. Seeing that it was closed, she pulled her second barstool out and sat by Layla at her worktable. “You can’t tell anyone, okay?” When her employee nodded, she continued. “When we pitched the wedding, Sequoia wanted to hire us because she thought we were a couple. Before I could correct her, Michael jumped in and told her that we were, and after that, I just went with it.”
Layla paused, obviously formulating a response, and tapped the worktable. “Okay, as absurd as that is, I can understand why you went along with it, and it makes much more sense than you falling for a guy you used to hate. I’m sure it seemed harmless enough at the time. Nobody could’ve predicted that you’d end up back on that game show or that Michael’s showbiz career would get a second life.”
“Thank you. I feel like a complete idiot for not just correcting her that day and letting the situation play out however it would have.” She slumped on the barstool and stared at her hands.
“What I can’t figure out,” she put a hand over Carly’s, “is why you’re so depressed now. Are you feeling overwhelmed now that Michael’s not working the wedding? Is this too much pressure for one job?”
Unbidden, tears welled in Carly’s eyes and fell in fat puddles on the table. With a shuddering breath, she pulled herself together the best she could. “No, that’s not all.”
Her voice was a raspy whisper, and a hot flush crept into her cheeks. Layla was her friend, but their relationship had always been completely professional, the lines between employer and employee strictly respected.
Understanding lit her eyes. “So, it’s safe to say that your little charade with Michael took a turn toward reality when you two were in L.A.? I can’t say that I’m surprised, you know. I watched your episode of Sugar Shock. There’s no faking the way you two look at one another.” Layla stood, the barstool scraping against the tile as it moved. “Well, I wish I could tell you that I could handle everything so you could go home and sort this out, but you’re just too darn successful. There are two more orders that have to be finished by the afternoon. If we each take one, you can take off a little early and sort this out. I’ll cover for you after that. It could give you a little time to pull yourself together and come back in tomorrow ready to work. We’ll sink without you here.”
She patted Carly’s shoulder and left without another word. Feeling like a fool for crying in front of an employee and letting her emotions affect her work, Carly wiped her eyes and straightened her spine. She was a professional, and it was time she acted like one. With a deep cleansing breath, she told herself to save the tears for home, then made her way to the front to pick up the order sheets.
• • •
Michael arrived at the studio, dragging himself in when he should be feeling on top of the world. The pilot schedule was ticking along at a faster pace than he ever would have thought, the production staff welcomed his input at every stage, and by all standards, the show was a dream job. If the pilot went well, there was no reason to think the network wouldn’t pick them up. Everything was going
his way, for once, but all he could think about was what he’d lost. He reported to hair and makeup, dropped into his chair, and sipped from the paper cup of coffee he picked up on the way. His stylist came in, toting an oversized bag full of products and equipment, on a cloud of coffee breath and cigarette smoke. Simply delightful. Nothing at all like the sweet vanilla-frosting scent of Carly.
“Good morning, love,” she chirped. “Ready for your big day?”
“I’m ready to rock.” He tried to summon an ounce of the enthusiasm he should feel, but nothing meant much lately. She got to work on his hair while she chattered about the other Cuisine Network personalities. He smiled and made the appropriate noises, relieved that he wasn’t expected to contribute much to the conversation.
“Hey, you know, I do know you. I was wracking my brain, trying to figure it out. You were on Sugar Shock.” She snapped her fingers and grinned.
“Guilty as charged,” he said as he spread his hands out.
“So where’s the pretty girlfriend of yours?” She didn’t recognize him from the season he won. She’d seen him during the past week. Crap.
“Back in Dallas.” Not sure how much to reveal to the hair-and-makeup lady, he kept it vague. Maybe she’d drop it.
No such luck. “What? How can you stand being here while she’s all the way in Texas?”
“When opportunity knocks, I answer.” He shrugged. “I got the chance to shoot the pilot, so I stayed here, and she went back home. The rest is history, I guess.”
Somewhat deflated, she finished his stage makeup. “What a shame. I hope you two kids make it through the separation. That’s a lot of distance to overcome, but if you’re committed, you can do it. All done, love. Knock ’em dead out there.”
He’d meant the quip about opportunity knocking as a light remark, but he sounded like an ass and he knew it. He’d ruined everything, not just for him, but for Carly as well. Today’s segments would test his professionalism, because he sure as hell didn’t feel like wowing the audience. The stylist packed up her supplies while he watched himself in the mirror, made up and camera-ready. And depressed as hell. With herculean effort, he pushed out of the chair and got to his feet, his internal pep talk on a continuous loop. He’d given up everything for this job. Might as well make it shine.
Love Connection Page 26