by Megan Hart
"Lila-love!"
Rivka sounded slightly less hysterical than she had three days before, but only slightly so. Lila sighed. There went her peaceful Saturday morning. "What’s wrong?"
"The opening!" Rivka moaned theatrically. "I’m sick about it."
Lila switched into soothing mode. "Riv, I thought you were okay. It’s not for three weeks."
"This damn snow has the mail backed up! People aren’t going to get their invitations in time to RSVP! My paintings are still in Pittsburgh and won’t be shipped until next week! Then I have to hang them. The printer’s been closed for three days, so my prints are behind schedule!"
Lila snuggled down into the covers. "Calm down. We have plenty of time. I heard a snow plow go by this morning, which means the streets are cleared. Things are going to be all right!"
"I need to talk to Tom."
Lila paused before replying. "You’re assuming he’s here."
"Isn’t he?"
"No, Rivka. Tom is probably at The Foxfire. His business, remember? You’re not the only one whose plans were messed up by the snow."
"Correct as usual, my dear, stable sister Lila." Rivka laughed. "Was I hysterical?"
"Slightly. Have Mickey slap you."
"Mickey?" Rivka snorted. "Lila, I tossed him out the door first thing this morning. Three days locked up together was just too much!"
Lila stretched against the flannel sheets. "Your opening is going to be wonderful. I thought I was supposed to be the worrier, Rivka."
Her sister snorted again. "I must have caught it from you."
There was no hope now of going back to sleep. Lila’s stomach had begun rumbling, so there was no chance of curling up in bed with her new book either. She yawned, stretched, and swung her feet over the edge of the bed.
"Gotta go." She prepared to disconnect.
"Wait!"
Here came the interrogation. "Yes, we’re dating. Yes, he spent the night. Yes, I’m going to see him today. That cover all the bases?"
"You know me too well." Rivka switched tactics. "Tom Caine is one of the nicest guys I know. I can’t think why I didn’t set you two up before."
"You didn’t set us up!" Lila took the cordless phone with her, padded into the bathroom, and turned on the shower. "We met all on our own, thank you very much."
"Whatever. I’m just glad you’re finally seeing someone worthwhile."
Lila refrained from replying to her sister’s comment on her love life. "He’s very nice, Rivka."
"Nice! Is that all you can say about him, is nice? The man’s a god!"
Lila clucked her tongue in admonition. "I’m ashamed of you. Placing so much emphasis on a man’s looks. There’s a lot more to him than his face."
"I bet." Rivka chuckled. "Like about a good eight inches—"
Lila hung up the phone and cut off the rest of her sister’s nosy imaginings. The shower was hot, steam pouring out. But Rivka’s naughty words had got her to thinking. She’d probably be better off taking a cold shower instead.
She might have done just that, but for the fact that the house was cold enough already. She had turned the heat up, but the power outages had wreaked havoc on more than just her answering machine; the temperamental furnace in her basement was working in spurts. If she really needed to cool down, all she had to do was stand around in her nightgown for a few minutes.
As the bathroom filled with welcome warmth, Lila’s shiver had little to do with the cranky furnace. The chill running down her spine had everything to do with Tom. She stepped into the shower, and the nearly too-hot water cascaded over her body. It was touching her in all the places Tom had recently touched, and Lila couldn’t hold back the tiny groan as she remembered.
The blizzard that had shut down central Pennsylvania for the past three days had been a perfect mini-vacation. As Darren had predicted, nobody could get into work. The state police, in fact, had issued an order that only emergency personnel would be allowed on the streets at all for forty-eight hours.
For Tom and Lila, it was the perfect excuse to spend every spare minute together. Though he had stopped back at his place for some fresh clothes and to tell his niece where he’d be, Tom had been staying at Lila’s since the day they’d made love in the restaurant. They had stayed up late watching old movies on television and eating popcorn popped in Lila’s fireplace. They had engaged in a fierce Monopoly tournament that left Tom bankrupt and Lila the proud owner of both Boardwalk and Park Place. They had talked for hours and shared stories from every part of their lives. And they had made love.
Lila had never felt so close to a man. It was more than the way Tom knew how to touch her body; it was the way he had learned to touch her heart. He only had to look at her it seemed, to know what she was thinking. He had begun to finish her sentences.
It didn’t matter any more what he looked like. He wasn’t a pair of broad shoulders or startling hazel eyes anymore. He was just Tom.
That didn’t mean the sight of him bare-chested still didn’t make her catch her breath. She worked the lather through her thick curls. He could still weaken her knees with just a look.
What had started out as lust had quickly become so much more. She had meant it to be a not-quite casual affair, a chance to satisfy her body’s insistent urges. She’d never meant to risk her heart.
Too late now, she thought. She was in deep, maybe way over her head, but there was nothing to be done. She loved him, head over heels. What she felt for Tom was light years beyond what she’d had with William.
No supermodel would ever stare at her from out of the mirror, and she would probably never fit into her high-school prom dress again, but none of that mattered. Tom had shown her what he thought was precious and lovely had nothing to do with what shade of lipstick she wore or whether she looked good in stiletto pumps. She only had to be herself. If it was enough for him, then it was damn sure good enough for her.
He had left early this morning, determined to get The Foxfire back into operating condition by this afternoon. After so many days cooped up at home, most people would be dying to get out and do something, and Tom wanted to be prepared. He had called all the staff last night to let them know what time to be in and left in plenty of time to head back to his house and change before going to the restaurant.
Lila rinsed off and stepped out of the shower. Though the past three days had been wonderful, she, too, was looking forward to getting out. Tom had promised her lunch today, but she probably wouldn’t see much of him. He devoted a lot of himself to his business, and she respected that. Still, the promise of seeing him even briefly had her heart skipping a beat. She wanted to sing. And, as she toweled off and began dressing to meet the man who had changed her mind about pretty faces, that’s exactly what she did.
* * *
Silence met Tom when he entered his house. He’d left Lila sleeping, waking her just long enough to promise her lunch at The Foxfire today. The roads had mostly been cleared, so he was able to jog back to his house in record time. He wanted to shower, change, and grab some breakfast before heading over to the restaurant. It was going to be a crazy day.
Not wanting to wake Emma, he climbed the stairs two at a time as quietly as he could. He’d phoned her last night along with the rest of the staff to let them all know he expected them to show up for work on Saturday morning. Still, it was pretty early. Emma really didn’t have to be in for another couple of hours.
Darkness shrouded the hallway, but Tom didn’t bother turning on a light. He knew exactly where he was going, and…WHAM!
Tom hit someone coming out of Emma’s room. It wasn’t Emma, not unless she’d shot up about five inches and put on forty pounds. The intruder grunted and went down after the impact.
Heart hammering, Tom tried to remember the self-defense techniques he’d learned at the YMCA a few years back. Letting out a thundering yell, he thrust his fists out in front of him and stamped down on the interloper with all his weight. The man on the ground let out
a loud yelp of pain.
"If you’ve hurt Emma, I’ll kill you!" Tom roared, keeping his stance. Though he wanted to see who was lurking in his upstairs hallway, the shadows still obscured the man’s face. He didn’t want to get too close to the downed invader in case the man was planning to spring up and hit him. "I may just kill you anyway!"
The hall suddenly lit up like a county fair. Tom blinked in the brightness, opening one fist to shield his eyes from the glare. Emma’s door, directly to his right, had opened, and his niece came flying out.
"Mike!" she shrieked, bending over the prone man on the floor. "Boss! You moron, you’ve killed him!"
To protect the area Tom had stomped, Michel Leroy curled into a tight ball in the hallway. His face was pasty white with a greenish tinge. Emma bent over him and fluttered her hands over his face. When she saw just where Michel had been injured, she glared up at her uncle with undisguised dismay.
"Boss, you stomped him in the nuts," she scolded. "What kind of fair fighting is that?"
Tom was confused. His heartbeat slowed and he lowered his fists. "Emma, he came out at me in the dark. What was I supposed to do?"
"…take a shower." Michel wheezed as Emma helped him sit up. His color was returning to normal, but he still cradled his injured parts tenderly.
"He was going to the bathroom."
"He ran into me." Tom was still in shock about the whole incident. "How was I supposed to know who it was?"
Emma grunted. "You still didn’t have to kick him where it counts. That’s low, boss, really low."
Michel struggled to his feet. His face had gone from greenish white to slowly darkening brick red. Tom realized the man was blushing.
"I apologize." He sounded like a man who’d just had his fingers…or something…slammed in a door. "For coming into your house and defiling your niece."
"What?" Tom and Emma both said at the same time.
Emma turned on Michel and slapped his arm. "Don’t tell him that!"
"Yeah, don’t tell me that."
Tom winced. The whole situation was getting more and more ridiculous. The last thing he wanted to hear about was his twenty-four-year-old niece’s love life. There were just some things in life that were off-limits.
"But Emma, I must tell your oncle the truth—"
"Don’t listen to him, boss." Emma clapped her hand across Michel’s mouth. "He didn’t do any defiling."
"I really don’t want to know." All Tom wanted to do was head for his own room, take a shower, and get down to The Foxfire. He didn’t want to stand in his hallway with his chef and sous-chef, both of whom, he now saw with increasing discomfort, were in an embarrassing state of undress.
"Mike, don’t go all chauvinistic on me. I invited you here, I made you stay the night, and I’m the one who seduced you."
"All right!" The conversation had gone way beyond what Tom wanted to hear. "I don’t care why Michel is here, Emma. I just want to take a shower and get to the restaurant. Okay?"
"Sheesh." Emma wrapped her arm around Michel’s waist. "What’s gotten into you?"
Tom shook his head and threw his hands in the air. "Emma, don’t make me explain."
As he headed down the hallway toward his bedroom, he heard Emma’s giggle. It was followed by the unmistakable sound of two people kissing and the click of Emma’s door shutting. As Tom ducked in his own doorway, he couldn’t stop a grin. His niece had finally cornered Michel Leroy.
* * *
Lila pushed through the front doors of The Foxfire, which was even more crowded than usual. Then again, half the city had probably turned out today to fill their bellies with food they hadn’t had to open from cans. The smell of blackened fish wafted to her as a waitress passed by with a platter, and Lila’s stomach rumbled. She was looking forward to something good to eat.
The walk hadn’t hurt her appetite either. Still, as she searched for Tom in the crowd, her stomach jumped with more than hunger. Her gaze roamed the restaurant, and she searched for his familiar profile. She was hungry for something, and it wasn’t just food.
"One for lunch?"
It was the same hostess as before, the blonde with the expertly made-up face. She stared rather blankly at Lila. Her exquisitely plucked brows furrowed ever so slightly as if she thought she should recognize Lila, but didn’t. Nothing, however, could daunt Lila today, not even Ms. Plastic-Perfect.
"I’m here to see Tom Caine."
The blonde’s eyes cleared. Not by very much, Lila noted somewhat meanly, but enough to show some light was clicking on underneath the blonde hair. The hostess smiled with false sincerity.
"Is he expecting you?" Her tone clearly indicated she didn’t think that was a possibility.
Lila lifted her chin slightly and vowed not to let the woman get under skin. "Yes, he is actually."
The blonde hostess’s smile broadened, as if she found Lila’s reply amusing. "Are you sure? He’s very busy today."
Lila’s mouth began to thin into a scowl, but she forced herself to keep her tone light. "Of course I’m sure." She paused to read the other woman’s nametag. "Jennifer. He invited me here himself. He told me to meet him at noon. Please just tell him I’m here."
Jennifer’s expertly shaped brows rose slightly and her bright smile faltered. "Of course." Her tone sounded wounded as if Lila had been unquestionably rude to her. "Let me go see if I can find him."
She disappeared into the back so briefly Lila knew she couldn’t have looked very long.
"He seems to be unavailable just now." Jennifer smirked. "Please sit down while you wait."
Lila did so, if only because she didn’t want to make a scene. Several people had come into the restaurant behind her, and she didn’t want them to leave while she argued with Jennifer. The Foxfire was Tom’s business after all, and she didn’t want to lose him any customers.
Several minutes passed while Jennifer graciously took the names of diners and directed those whose tables were ready to their seats. The blonde had nothing but smiles for every man who came in, and Lila’s hostility grew. To women, especially those who were alone, the hostess was cooler, though not in any way you could really put your finger on. It was more the things she didn’t say, the smiles she didn’t give, than it was anything she actually said or did.
The hostess seemed to have forgotten about Lila, who was just deciding to push her way back to Tom’s office when one of the waitresses came around the corner. Pausing at the podium behind which Jennifer reigned, the waitress glanced at Lila. Lila pretended not to notice and instead contemplated the threads of her coat.
"Wendi." Jennifer’s blue gaze flicked Lila’s way. "Pretty busy today?"
Wendi flipped her waist-length, chestnut braid over her shoulder. The uniform of white shirt and black skirt, which managed to make the rest of the staff look crisp and professional, fit her like she was an exotic dancer. She had the body to be one. The waiting area had suddenly grown very warm.
"Rilly." Wendi’s voice was a cliché.
Both women looked covertly at Lila. Jennifer seemed barely able to refrain from bursting out laughing, and Wendi was unable to keep a smirk from turning up her glossy lips. Lila had the uncomfortable feeling they were mocking her.
"Have you been able to find Tom?" Jennifer asked loudly, making certain Lila could hear. "Someone’s waiting for him."
"No, Jen, he’s not in the kitchen. He’s in his office, talking to Donna. They’ve been in there a really long time." Wendi lowered her voice theatrically, but still spoke clearly enough that Lila could hear her every word. "You know how long it always takes for him to talk to Donna."