The Perfect Dish

by Kristen Painter

  She inched forward to the edge of her seat. “Who wants you? For what? Details. Now.”

  His smile almost blinded her. “The Foodie Network. They want me to do a cooking show. Can you believe it? A little ole country boy from Texas on TV.”

  “Oh, Kelly, that’s wonderful news. You certainly have the looks to be on television.” She leaned back, letting his words sink in. With his easy charm and handsome face, the camera would love him. He’d be an instant success. His star was going to rise so fast, he’d have no choice but leave her behind. He’d probably end up with some vapid Hollywood actress. Ignoring the growing lump in her throat, she forced a smile. “I’m so, so happy for you. What’s the show going to be called?”

  “Texas Spice. It’s going to be a live show with a studio audience.” His eyes were sparkling, his words coming in a rush. “They want a full season. Twenty-two shows. Twenty-two. I still can’t believe it.”

  “You deserve this, Kelly. You’re a hard worker. A genius in the kitchen.” She reached across the table and squeezed his hand. “You’re going to be a star. A bigger star.”

  “Thanks, honey. Of everyone I know, I wanted to share this with you the most.”

  “You’ve done a good job of keeping it a secret. But then, I guess keeping secrets is something you’ve had practice in.” She gave him a wink to let him know she was teasing.

  “All right, I deserved that.” He pushed his chair back from the table. “We should eat. Let me just run to the kitchen and tell them to start the service.” He kissed her on his way past.

  As soon as he was gone, she took a deep breath. The time to break things off had come sooner than she’d expected. No, that wasn’t true. It had come sooner than she was ready. Better to end things now before he became any more well known. The papers would already run her name through the wringer over this as it was.

  She wouldn’t do it tonight. That would be cruel. Tonight she’d celebrate with him. She closed her eyes. Take him to bed one last time. Reveal in the attentive way he made love, the way he made her feel like the most desired woman in the world, like age really was just a number.

  Then tomorrow, she’d come by and explain things. He’d understand. They were both adults and this was never meant to be anything more than a fling. They’d agreed on that. The “I love you” in the hospital had been an aberration of sedatives and pain, nothing more. He probably didn’t even remember saying it.

  She opened her eyes and stared at the beautiful red roses in the center of the table. She wanted to wish she didn’t remember hearing it but that would’ve been a lie. Those words would be with her until the day she died.

  Footsteps sounded behind her.

  Kelly returned to his seat. “Food’s on its way.”

  With a cheerfulness she didn’t quite feel, she answered, “Wonderful. What are we having?”

  “To start, roasted leek and corn chowder followed by grilled lobster with cilantro butter, rosemary polenta and avocado salad. And of course, dessert.”

  “I finally get lobster? Too bad you didn’t get a TV show sooner.” She gave him a smile and told herself she might as well enjoy the night, since it was going to be their last.

  “You had lobster last week at that French place.”

  “I’m talking about lobster you made for me.” She tucked her napkin on lap. She was going to miss the banter.

  “Yeah, you’re right. I’m a bad boyfriend. You should probably give me a tongue-lashing.” He laughed.

  “That will depend on how good dessert is.” She tried to ignore that he just called himself her boyfriend. Tried to ignore the little shiver of pleasure tickling her spine. Tried to tell herself she was too old to feel so giggly about a word she didn’t want him using in the first place.

  She changed the subject. “So where’s the studio? Uptown?”

  “No.” He shook his head, a strange light in his eyes. “Neither. They’re building a set at the studio.” He offered her a tentative smile. “The show’s being filmed in California.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  “Oh.” She didn’t have the breath to say more. He was leaving. Her appetite vanished.

  “I’ll only be gone long enough to do the tapings.” He reached across the table and laced his fingers with hers. “Wait, that’s not entirely true. Marty’s booking some promotional stuff for me to do while I’m out there. So a month at the minimum but probably more like two. Anyway, I’ll be there until things wrap up.”

  His hand felt surprisingly warm. Or hers had gone cold. She nodded, her tongue as numb as her brain. Maybe she should break it off tonight. The candlelight coming through her champagne glass lit the bubbles like tiny Christmas bulbs. She watched them rise to the surface, pop and disappear.

  “Mery, look at me.”

  She glanced up. His eyes were lit up like a summer sky. How could she tell him now they couldn’t see each other any more?

  “It’s too long,” he continued. “Too long to be apart.”

  She breathed a small sigh of relief. So that was what this elaborate dinner was all about. He was going to break things off. Good. As long as she didn’t have to do, that was fine with her.

  “Right,” she agreed, more than willing to help him out. The sooner this was over, the sooner she could go home and have a good cry. “Too long. People change, especially when they’re experiencing that kind of growth in their lives. You’ll come back a different person.”

  “Exactly.” He smiled and released her hand. “I knew you’d understand.” He slipped out of his chair to stand beside her. Pulling something from his pocket, he dropped down to one knee. “Which is why when you come with me, as my wife.”

  He opened the small velvet box. A diamond the color of sunshine sparkled up at her.

  The room spun, the floor tilted beneath her feet and even though she was seated, she felt herself slipping. Her fingers bit into the chair’s soft leather seat. She couldn’t breath. It was like drowning in water two inches above your head. She could see the surface, she just couldn’t reach it.

  Concern crossed his face. “I know the ring’s a little different. It’s called a fancy yellow rose cut. Little over two carats. I picked it out special, because yellow roses always make me think of you. I guess I shouldn’t have figured you’d like it, too. If you don’t want it, you can pick out a different one.” He inhaled. “I think I’m rambling.”

  She managed a deep shuddering breath.

  He swallowed. “I know we haven’t known each other long but I can’t imagine my life without you. I love you, Mery. And with this trip to California and the show, well, my life isn’t about to get any simpler. I need you.”

  “You said you didn’t want to get married.” Nerves thinned her voice down to a whisper.

  “I know.” With a relieved sigh, he nodded. “But that was before I realized life without you wouldn’t mean squat.”

  “I told you I didn’t want to get married either.” The tingling in her fingers spread up her arms. Maybe she was going into shock. Was the air being siphoned out of the room?

  “Honey, are you okay? You look a little pale.”

  “I’m not ready for this.” She pushed back in her chair. Wood scraped against wood.

  “I’m fine with a long engagement. Whatever you want.” He set the black velvet box on the table in front of her.

  The ring was beautiful. Three small, white marquis diamonds flanked each side of the exquisite center stone like leaves. It really did look like a yellow rose. She couldn’t help but be touched by the thought and care he’d put into picking it out.

  She snapped the box shut and steeled herself for what she was about to do.

  “I told you I didn’t want to get married. I meant it.” She pushed her chair further away from the table and stood. “I’m sorry you went to all this trouble but my answer is no.”

  He stood up, disbelief haunting his eyes. “You mean you just don’t want to get married? I guess we could live together but seems
to me if you love someone, you should do the right thing.”

  “That’s just it.” She could do this, no matter how much it hurt. The pain was her own fault. She’d known this day would come. She stared at the seams in the wood floor. “I don’t love you.”

  He laughed, short and sharp. “That dog won’t hunt. I already know you love me. I see it in your eyes when you look at me. I hear it in your voice when you say my name and laugh at my jokes. I taste it in your kiss. I feel it in the way you cling to me when we make love. Say the words, Mery. Don’t be afraid of the truth. You love me.” The assuredness in his voice didn’t surprise her. His confidence was one of the things she lov—she refused to finish the thought.

  “No,” she repeated. “I don’t.”

  “Look me in the eyes and say it.”

  She inhaled, willed herself to be clinical and detached, clenched her fists and lifted her chin to meet his gaze. “I’m fond of you, that’s true but from the very beginning I told you I was only interested in one thing. Sex. And while I have enjoyed your company, I do not love you now nor will I ever love you.” She turned and stepped away from the table. “I think it best if we just agree this relationship has come to its natural conclusion and part ways. I apologize if I’ve caused you any–”

  “I give up. Talking to you is like trying to herd cats.” He grabbed her and kissed her. Hard. Desperate. Proving. The onslaught nearly undid her, buckling her knees with the sudden rush of pleasure, the sudden knowledge of everything she was giving up.

  It was for his own good. But mad passion swept that thought away as quickly as it had popped into her head.

  He tangled one hand into the hair at the back of her head and used the other to press her against him. Even through the fabric of his suit, his warmth invaded her senses. He teased with his tongue, mimicking the dance of lovemaking until colors spun behind her eyelid.

  She did want this man. Maybe more than she’d ever wanted a man in her life. But that was selfish of her and dangerous for him. She broke the kiss, gasping for a sane breath, praying for the strength to walk away and not look back every day for the rest of her life.

  He kept her close, resting his chin against her cheek. The rise and fall of his chest began to slow. “You’re a bad liar.”

  A soft inhale was her only reply.

  “I love you, Mery.”

  “You don’t love me. This is just the infatuation stage of—”

  “I’m not a patient, Mery. Don’t tell me what I feel. I love you.”

  “Stop saying that.”

  “Not saying it won’t make the feelings go away. Loving you is like breathing. I’m not about to stop either one.”

  Shaking her head she pulled out of his embrace. “I have to go.”

  “Just like that you’re gonna turn tail and run? I didn’t peg you for a coward.”

  “Well, now you know.” She tucked her bronze evening bag beneath her arm. Her hands were shaking too badly to hold it any other way.

  He stepped in her way. “Give me one good reason why marrying me is a bad idea.”

  She moved back, not trusting herself to be so close to him. Her heart ached but she shoved the pain down, just like she had so many times before.

  “The difference in our ages, for one.”

  He rolled his eyes, disgust evident in the tight line of his mouth. “You can’t let go of the age thing, can you? I don’t see what it matters if we love each other.”

  “You need a woman who can give you children.”

  “Don’t tell me what I need.” The glint in his eyes was dark and dangerous. “I know what I need and she’s standing in front of me.”

  “Now who’s a liar?” She planted a hand on her hip. “Your dream of the future doesn’t include children?”

  “Are you listening to me, woman? Until I met you, it didn’t even include getting hitched.” He drove his fingers through his hair. “I don’t need kids to be happy. I just need you.”

  “And you don’t care that when you’re sixty, I’ll be seventy.” She had to make him understand. “I could need constant care. I could be an invalid. Or worse, I could be in diapers.”

  His soft laughter filled her ears. “You’re assuming I’m gonna live that long.”

  She froze.

  The smile died on his lips. “I didn’t mean because of you—”

  “Don’t.” She shook her head, tears blurring her vision. “I’m not going to marry you, Kelly. Nothing you say or do will change my mind.”

  * * *

  Someone was pounding on her brain. Meredith opened her eyes a slit. The pounding wasn’t in her head. It was at her door. She tugged the covers up. They’d go away soon enough.

  Voices joined the pounding, calling her name, yelling for her to open up and threatening to use a gun to shoot the lock out.

  She pushed the covers down. Jack never should’ve bought Viv that Walther PPK for her birthday. Like the woman wasn’t dangerous enough already.

  Meredith dragged herself out of bed, pulled on her robe and trudged to the door. Yanking it open, she glared at her friends. “If I so much as see a gun—”

  “Oh please.” Viv waved the comment away. “Do you actually think I’d ruin the shape of my new Chanel bag with that hunk of metal?” She looked Meredith up and down then wrinkled her nose. “The bloom is certainly off the rose, isn’t it?”

  She pushed past before Meredith could answer. Celia came in right behind her.

  “I didn’t invite you in,” Meredith said, shutting the door.

  Celia’s eyes sparkled. “We’re doing an interdiction.”

  “Intervention,” Viv corrected.

  “Right, intervention.” Celia looked around. “Anything good for breakfast in here? I’m famished and Viv wouldn’t let us stop at La Boulangere for even the tiniest little pain au chocolat.” She flattened her hand on her stomach. “They have the best French pastries. And their rum raisin scones—”

  “Celia, concentrate.” Viv snapped.

  Putting her hands to her head, Meredith groaned. “I don’t need an intervention or breakfast. I need to be left alone.”

  “I’ll make coffee.” Celia headed for the kitchen.

  “Why are you here?” Meredith asked. She tugged her robe a little tighter. Maybe if she went along with whatever cockamamie game they were playing, they’d leave sooner.

  Viv took Meredith by the arm, led her to the couch and sat her down, then patted her leg. “You haven’t answered your phone for the last three days. What did you think we would do?”

  “Some people would get the hint,” Meredith growled. “I want to be left alone.”

  Viv reached out like she was going to brush the hair from Meredith’s eyes then stopped. “Don’t look at me that way. We’re here to help.”

  “I don’t need help.” Above the noise of Celia rummaging, Meredith could hear her humming. The tune sounded vaguely familiar.

  “You turned down a proposal from a man whose food tastes as good as he looks and who also happens to be madly in love with you.” Viv shook her head. “You might need shock therapy.”

  “I don’t love him.” Meredith drew her knees up and wrapped her arms around them, trying to insulate herself from the pain of those words.

  Viv nodded. “Which is why you went to see him in hospital?”

  Meredith scowled at her. “That was out of a sense of obligation.”

  Viv leaned in. “Does he make you happy?”

  “That isn’t the point.” Whatever Celia was humming was starting to stick in her brain. Meredith put her feet back on the floor. “You know what happens to the men I marry. When it comes to love, I’m the unluckiest woman to ever walk the face of the earth.”

  Coffee started, Celia came and sat in the chair adjacent to the couch. “Unlucky? Are you serious? Look how many men I’ve dated. I haven’t married a single one.” Sighing, she sat back and started humming that infernal tune again.

  “That’s because they were all wrong
for you.” Why wouldn’t they just leave her alone? And stop humming.

  “Exactly,” Viv said. “But you, my dear, you’ve had the cosmic fortune to meet and marry two wonderful men, both of whom loved you madly. And now, in some bizarre twist of karmic matchmaking, you’ve met another one.” She gave Meredith a little shove. “How dare you say you’re unlucky in love? You’re the luckiest woman I know where men are concerned.”

  Celia softly cleared her throat. “William Thackeray once wrote ‘To love and win is the best thing. To love and lose, the next best.’” She smiled, clearly pleased she’d remembered the quote.

  Meredith bit her lower lip. She’d never thought of herself as lucky. Hard to do when most of the black dresses in her closet had been worn to a spouse’s funeral. Until recently, anyway.

  “Grief is the price we pay for loving someone,” Celia said quietly.

  Meredith looked up. “Don’t quote me to me.” She shook her head. “There’s more to it than that. He’s too young. People will look at him and wonder why he couldn’t do better. Or they’ll look at me and think I’ve got some sort of Svengali hold on him. The papers already make too much fuss over it.”

  “Screw the papers and their gossip columns.” Celia rolled her eyes. “What do you care what people think? That wouldn’t stop me.”

  “Oh really?” Meredith raised her brows. “So how do your parents like Mick? Have they invited him to the country club yet?”

  Celia tucked one leg up underneath her. “This isn’t about me. My situation is different.”

  Viv slipped her arm around Meredith’s shoulders. “Truly, deep down inside, can you honestly say you don’t love him?”

  Meredith shrugged off her friend’s embrace and stood up. “None of you understand. I can’t take the possibility of him dying. I will not bury another man I love. I can’t.” She went into the kitchen and got out some mugs. Celia’s tune was rolling around in her head, the words dancing on the tip of her tongue. What was that song?

  Viv sighed. “He’s not going to die. He’s young and healthy.” She waved a ring-laden hand in the air. “He’s perfect.”