“Hi,” Cecily said. “Are you having fun?” she asked Serena.
The child nodded. “We’re getting chocolate apples, and I’m going to a tea.”
“That does sound like fun.”
“And my daddy’s going to a ball,” Serena continued. “He’s going to meet a princess.”
Luke’s cheeks turned russet. “You never know.”
“Moonlight and magic,” Cecily quipped.
“So would you like some help with those apples?” he asked.
Unlike her type-A older sister and high-energy baby sister, Cecily enjoyed stopping to breathe once in a while, and having some assistance in the Sweet Dreams kitchen would have been nice. But she didn’t want to pull Luke away from his daughter, and she didn’t want to give him the wrong idea that she was interested in being anything more than friends. Cozy kitchen time together could become a recipe for hurt feelings. Better to keep him at a distance.
“That’s okay, thanks. I can manage,” she said. “You guys have fun.”
“Let’s get our apples, Daddy,” Serena said, tugging on his arm, the equivalent of a puppy trying to tow a mountain.
The mountain allowed himself to be moved but as he fished out his wallet he asked, “How about saving me a dance tonight?”
It would have been rude to refuse. “Okay,” she said.
He was such a nice man. She should have been dying to dance with him. What was wrong with her?
She was still pondering the question when she walked into the Safeway produce department in search of Granny Smith apples. Surely if she gave him half a chance, Luke could hit her zing-o-meter. He was probably a wonderful kisser. He’d been married, after all, had a child, had to know what turned a woman on.
It had been way too long since anyone had turned her on.
A male arm reached right out of her imagination and around her, brushing hers in the process and hitting the old zing-o-meter, sending it soaring. Whoa, what was that?
Todd Black!
“Need some apples.” He held one up for her to see.
“You could have said something. I’d have moved.” What was he doing here, intruding on her thoughts, playing with her zing-o-meter?
“I would have, but you were so intent on fondling the apples I hated to interrupt.”
Okay, it was official now. Todd Black was the most irritating man in Icicle Falls. She began randomly snatching apples and stuffing them in her produce bag. “Well, I’ll hurry up and get out of the way. It’s obvious you’re anxious to have a turn.”
“Oh, no. I can wait. I’m a big believer in ladies first.”
“I doubt that,” she retorted.
“A little cranky, are we?” he teased. “Is all the stress of the festival getting to you?”
“No.” Naturally, that had to come out all snippy-sounding.
“You sure? ’Cause you look stressed. There’s no stress over at my place and we’ll be open all night.”
“Well, thanks for the offer,” she said, putting the apples in her cart, “but I’ll be at the chocolate ball tonight.”
“And anyone who’s anyone will be there,” he finished cynically.
“You could say that,” she said pleasantly, refusing to rise to the bait.
“Well, Cinderella, don’t lose anything,” he said. He grabbed another apple and took a bite.
“You haven’t paid for that,” she pointed out.
“Play now, pay later.” He brought the apple to her mouth. “Go on. You know you want to.”
She’d had enough of his smart mouth. “Bite me,” her evil twin snapped.
“Anywhere you like,” he said as she wheeled her cart away.
* * *
Samantha was on an endorphin high as she and her sisters made their way to the chocolate dinner at Zelda’s. Only an hour ago she’d dropped off a big chunk of cash in the night depository. They’d made a nice bundle on the Mr. Dreamy pageant and their chocolate booth had been a huge success and so had been the tea, according to Bailey.
“What’s not to like about white-chocolate-lavender scones and chocolate-dipped strawberries?” Bailey had said.
Indeed.
Now it was just the sisters. Mom had worked at the booth and gone to the tea, but she’d sent them off to the dinner and ball without her, claiming exhaustion. Samantha knew it was more a case of preferring to be home with her memories than going out and watching other couples dancing.
Their schedule was too tight for them to go home and change after dinner, so they were all in their evening wear. Samantha felt ridiculously overdressed. “We look like prommies,” she said as they emerged from Cecily’s car in front of the restaurant.
“We look great,” Bailey corrected her.
Bailey was in borrowed finery, wearing a faux-fur coat over a creamy off-the-shoulder number with satin roses that she’d accented with Mom’s pearls. Cecily was elegant in a midnight-blue designer gown she’d found at a consignment store in L.A. Samantha’s gown was a green taffeta creation with a black netting underskirt that made her feel like the reincarnation of Scarlett O’Hara. Her sisters had insisted on paying for it and she’d given in and accepted when Cecily’s old friend Ella had refused to accept her credit card. “Sorry, Samantha, but your sisters win.”
“That’s rare,” Cecily had joked. “This is a moment to go down in history.”
Talk about a moment to go down in history, Samantha thought as they entered the restaurant. This was one she would remember for years to come.
Many of the other diners were also dressed to the nines, obviously ready for a night of dancing. Samantha felt a swell of pride as she looked around and saw the place packed with familiar faces, all smiling and enjoying the success of their festival. They’d set out to do the impossible and they’d succeeded.
“I love your dress,” said a woman who was in line in front of them, waiting to be seated.
“Thanks,” Samantha murmured.
“All your dresses,” the woman went on, taking them in. “Are you going to that chocolate ball I heard about?”
“As a matter of fact, we are,” Bailey said cheerfully.
“Wow,” said the woman. “You people really know how to do things right.”
Samantha thanked her and filed that comment away to share with her fellow Chamber of Commerce members when this was all over.
“Be sure to tell your friends,” Bailey said.
“Oh, I will,” the woman promised. “You’re going to do this next year, aren’t you?”
“Absolutely,” Samantha said confidently. They’d had to scramble to find their footing, but she knew, deep down, that they were firmly on the road to success now.
“You guys look great,” Charley greeted them. “Now I wish I’d gotten a ticket.”
“We can smuggle you in,” Cecily offered.
Charley shook her head. “I don’t want to risk meeting Prince Charming. I hope you all do, though.”
Bailey stuck out a foot to reveal a rhinestone-studded clear acrylic heel. “I’m ready. I’ve got my glass slipper.”
Samantha just hoped she wasn’t planning on giving it (or anything else) to Brandon Wallace. If she could have picked someone for her sister she’d have selected his older brother, Eric, who was steady as a rock and dependable. Of course, he’d have bored Bailey to tears.
What was with them? Why couldn’t the Sterling sisters manage to get it right when it came to men?
She let
Charley lead her sisters to their table, a favorite corner booth by the stone fireplace, while she set out to make the rounds among the diners. As the face of Sweet Dreams, Samantha knew she had to say hello to all the people who had anted up for this event. She didn’t mind doing that at all. She was happy to see everyone who was here.
Well, almost everyone. What had brought Blake Preston out? Since when did he care about chocolate or Sweet Dreams? There he sat at a table with his grandmother, his mother and a woman Samantha was pretty sure she recognized as his sister. Mr. Genial Host, whooping it up at what he hoped was her last supper.
They were going to pull out of this, and once they did they would pull their account from his First Bank of the Heartless before he could say, “Your money or your business.”
She started at the farthest end of the restaurant from where he sat, greeting Lily Swan and her daughter, Ella.
Lily looked like she’d just stepped out of the pages of Vogue. She wore a strapless black gown and her perfectly dyed blond hair had been swept up to show off her long, Audrey Hepburn neck. Around that neck hung a pink gold chain from which a single diamond dangled—tasteful but expensive, like the woman wearing it. Lily was somewhere in her fifties but she looked forty. She still, after all these years, intimidated Samantha just a little, maybe because Samantha suspected that, deep down, Lily still saw her as the sneaky kid who’d lifted a pair of earrings from her when she was new in town and just setting up shop.
“You look ravishing tonight, Samantha,” she said in her aloof Lily Swan voice.
“It’s all thanks to the gown,” Samantha said. “Your daughter has great taste, Mrs. Swan.” And a generous heart. Ella had given Bailey and Cecily enough of a discount to save her from a guilt overload over their sisterly gesture of kindness.
“She does have good taste. In clothes,” Lily said. Samantha sensed a double meaning in there somewhere. Ah, mother-daughter relationships. They were complicated.
Samantha smiled at Ella. “You can say that again. Where’s Jake?”
“He’s got a gig in Wenatchee,” Ella said.
Jake was a struggling musician so a gig was a good thing as far as Samantha could tell, but Lily let out a long-suffering sigh and Ella frowned.
Okay, time to move along. Samantha wished them bon appétit and stepped away. Next stop: Pat and Ed.
He was distinguished in his tux and she was wearing an amber gown that looked vintage, possibly something she’d had for years. Samantha hoped when she got to be Pat’s age she could still fit into this gown. Maybe she could—if she stopped sampling so much of her company’s product.
Ed saluted her with his wineglass. “Great idea, Samantha. This is going to be quite a night.”
Yes, it was. “I hope it’s not too soon to pronounce our festival a success,” she said.
Pat nodded. “No other word for it. I haven’t seen Zelda’s this packed in ages. I think we’ve even got some out-of-towners with us tonight.”
Samantha looked around the room. “Oh, I know we do.” Surely these visitors would tell their friends and next year even more people would come, snow or no snow.
As her gaze skimmed the room, she suddenly became aware that she was being watched. Like nails to a magnet, her attention was drawn to the table where Blake sat holding court—and taking in every inch of her, like some horny adolescent lounging on a street corner. She told herself he was a jerk and a Scrooge and the sudden flash of heat searing through her had nothing to do with attraction. It was simply warm in here.
Seeing that she’d caught him watching, he gave her a quick wave. She waved in return and then turned her back.
She stopped at six more tables and then there was no avoiding it. She had to visit his. He stood as she approached and she managed a smile—polite on the rocks.
It should have turned him into a giant ice sculpture but it didn’t. “You look lovely tonight,” he said to her.
And you look like a snake in a suit. “Thank you,” she murmured.
“I’m sure you know my grandmother, Janice, but have you ever met my mother and sister?”
Poor them, related to him. “Thanks for coming,” she said after he’d finished the introductions.
“Oh, we wouldn’t have missed this for the world,” Janice said.
Janice Lind was one of those women who were the heartbeat of the town. She volunteered at the food bank and every year her cake won the prize in the annual Raise the Roof bake-off that raised funds to maintain historic town buildings.
Their families hadn’t moved in the same circles, but they’d seen each other around for years, and Janice often purchased chocolates to give away at Christmas. Now here she was with her grandson, the very man who had put the noose around Samantha’s neck. She couldn’t know what a foul bastard he was.
If she doesn’t, that means he isn’t broadcasting your misery all over town, Samantha told herself. That was something, certainly more than she could say for Del Stone.
“Thank you,” she said to Janice. She couldn’t help turning to Blake. “I’m surprised to see you here. After all, you’re a busy man.” Hadn’t Pissy informed her of that?
“I want to do my part,” he said.
“Oh, you’re already doing so much,” Samantha said. Then before he could reply, she excused herself and returned to her table. She wouldn’t be able to eat a thing now. Blake Preston had stolen her appetite.
* * *
“She’s a lovely girl,” Gram observed as Samantha made her way back to the table where her sisters were sitting.
Lovely didn’t begin to describe her.
“I don’t think you have to tell Blake that,” his sister teased.
He shot a look across the table that plainly said, Shut up or else.
That mouth of Tess’s—she’d spent their entire childhood torturing him with it, either tattling on him or harassing him. Even though they were grown up now, little sister still liked to get in the occasional dig. Of course, if he ever needed anything she’d be there for him in a second and he for her.
Now it was as if she realized she’d shone a spotlight on something he didn’t want the matchmaking women in his life to see. So, just when hopeful curiosity was dawning in his mother’s eyes, she did her part to throw them off the scent, saying, “Any man with eyes can see how pretty Samantha Sterling is.” Then, she couldn’t resist adding, “If you like redheads.”
He did. Thank you, sis. She had just spared him from getting prodded with a million questions. Samantha’s business problems were not for public consumption, so it would be difficult to explain that, in spite of how much he wanted things to be different, circumstances had made him her archenemy.
Still, when it came to the possibility of a wife and more grandchildren, his mother was a romantic bloodhound. “You should ask her out,” she said.
“She’s a bank customer,” Blake said, hoping that would close the subject.
“Half the town is a bank customer,” Gram scoffed.
“I’m not that into her,” Blake lied.
“Here comes our salad,” Tess said. “This should be interesting. I’ve never had salad with chocolate mint leaves in it before.”
That put Mom and Gram onto a new conversational track, thank God. Another thing to be thankful for—none of them were going to the ball. If he got an opportunity to dance with Samantha he wouldn’t have to worry that they’d spot him with her. He was having a hard enough time convincing
her he wasn’t the devil incarnate. He didn’t need his family coaching him from the sidelines or singing his praises. He could fight his own romantic battles.
Except this wasn’t a battle. It was World War III. He scowled at his salad. Chocolate mint leaves, ugh. Way to ruin a salad. In fact, way to ruin a dinner. There wasn’t much here he’d be able to eat, but he’d come anyway, determined to show his support.
* * *
“You are going to love this dinner,” Bailey predicted once Samantha had rejoined them.
“I’m dying to try that chocolate pasta,” Cecily said.
Samantha doubted she was going to enjoy anything now that Blake Preston had ruined her appetite.
Once the food arrived, though, it was a different story. Every course provided a new sensation for her taste buds. “This is wonderful,” she told Bailey, who had planned the menu with Charley.
Bailey preened. “Wait till you taste dessert.”
She hoped she had room. At the rate she was going, dessert on top of everything else could make her evening gown explode right off her.
Just before dessert, diners got an unexpected treat as a man knelt in front of a young woman and opened a small, black velvet box to reveal a diamond ring.
The woman’s hand flew to her mouth and she nodded and all the other diners applauded.
“That’s so sweet,” Bailey gushed. “Are they locals? I don’t recognize them.”
“I don’t think so,” Samantha said.
“I’m going to go find out,” Bailey announced.
“Bailey Sterling, girl detective,” Samantha said, shaking her head as their sister swirled off.
“Well, he did propose in public,” Cecily pointed out. “They’re probably excited to share it with someone.”
Sure enough. Bailey had barely introduced herself when the three fell into an animated conversation, and Bailey was buzzing with excitement when she returned to the table.
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