A Delicious Dilemma

by Sera Taíno

  He glanced between their bodies, observing the way she swayed. Val marveled at how anyone could mess up a slow dance, especially someone who’d supposedly dated a dancer. But he followed her directions, his posture softening, though his feet still did most of the work.

  “You have a hard time relaxing, don’t you?” Val asked as they swayed.

  “I don’t come off as uptight, do I?”

  Val thought about the way he spoke, so precise compared to her vague, almost careless way with language. It was evident he was used to talking his way around things, revealing just enough and no more than he intended, whereas she, well, she was the equivalent of a verbal hemorrhage.

  “Not uptight, exactly. More like guarded. Careful. I don’t know you that well, but...”

  “That’s very observant of you.” He stepped back, giving her a slow twirl. She was careful where she stepped to keep from getting her feet trampled by his. “You’re right. I’m not a very spontaneous person.”

  “So do you plan everything?” she asked.

  Philip smiled, his eyes thoughtful, and it was like seeing them for the first time, the opaque depths hinting at more than a monochromatic blue. “I didn’t plan to dance with you tonight.”

  “So there’s hope for you, yet.” She smiled. He was already more relaxed, dancing more easily, though still tense. It would do for now, and she imagined some distant future when she’d take him in hand and teach him to move well. She wanted another night, and another after, and was shocked by the certainty of her desire.

  The arm that held her tensed ever so gently and Val followed the subtle movement, stepping closer into the circle of his embrace until they were flush against each other. He might hate dancing, but he was doing it anyway. For her sake. A shiver traveled up and down her spine, landing deep in her belly.

  “Am I doing okay?” he asked, his voice thick and gruff.

  Her response was to twine her arms around his neck, sinking into the warm knot of his embrace that promised to swallow her in things she didn’t dare conceive of yet.

  “Let’s do this again,” he said.

  Val took a long, deep breath, the smell of him overwhelming. She hadn’t lied. It had been a nice night, but the awkwardness of the expensive dinner hadn’t entirely disappeared, and while she’d thrown herself into the experience, it wasn’t her intention to be wined and dined. The disparity between them was too much.

  “Only on the condition that it doesn’t cost a small fortune to go out.”

  Philip frowned. “Didn’t you enjoy it?”

  “The dinner was perfect. Flawless, even. But there were no prices on the menu and that probably means you have to take out a small loan to eat here. I...” She bit her lip, trying to fashion the words that would convey her meaning without offense. “I’m not used to that kind of extravagance and I don’t want to get used to it.”

  “What if I want to be extravagant?”

  Val brought his face closer to hers. “That’s not the kind of extravagance I’m looking for. And it’s not the kind I can reciprocate.”

  “I see,” he said, nodding in understanding. “It was a little insensitive of me. I’m just...” He shook his head, and Val’s heart softened at his embarrassment.

  “You’re just not used to slumming it, that’s all.”

  Philip’s laughter broke the tension. “I told you. It’s not slumming when it’s with you. So, a repeat? On a less grand scale?”

  She slid her hand down his shirt, his chest warm and hard under her palm, the press of curls rippling beneath the material. Dark blond, like his eyelashes, or a shade lighter, like his hair? Rough and wiry or soft as down? She couldn’t help but wonder. She wanted to rest her cheek against his hammering heart until his beat matched hers.

  With more composure then she felt, she nodded. “I don’t see why not.”

  He smiled down at her. He was such an intimidatingly well put together man, it was hard to imagine him being insecure about anything. He could ask for whatever he wanted, and between his good looks, his evident wealth and his personality, he’d be assured of getting it.

  But in her way, so could she. And right now, she knew what she wanted.

  When the set changed, the music morphed into sensuous notes that sent slow currents of longing through her. The low hum of hunger she’d been trying to rein in threatened to break free, demanding to be satisfied. And the way he held her against him, the shattered breathing and wild heartbeat—she knew with unwavering certainty that he wanted to kiss her. It was in the bend of his head, the sudden pliancy of his lips. She tilted her head up and willed him to come to her.

  He seemed to follow her silent command, no longer moving with the music. The tea lights on the tables beyond them danced like fireflies, the music cradled them, and he was close, so close, mesmerized as if she were playing a silent tune that drew him in. Val’s eyelids grew heavy as his breath unfurled against her lips. But without warning, he pulled back and the moment melted away. Val was shaking, swallowing down both the expectation and disillusion that forced goose bumps to pucker over her skin and ice to flow through her veins.

  “You’re cold,” he said, his eyes still glazed with the remnants of their near kiss, his large hands ghosting over her arms in a rather sensible effort to warm her, provoking a swell of sensation that was both better and worse than her earlier shivers. “Let’s get you back to your wrap.”

  She didn’t correct him—how could she tell him that she wasn’t chilly, that the tremors he’d mistaken for cold were the double punch of need and disappointment he’d provoked with nothing more than the unfulfilled promise of a kiss?

  Dios mío.

  As he led her off the dance floor, the voice of caution echoed from somewhere far away, reminding her that it was best she hadn’t kissed him, and urged her not to rush this. She had a cascade of betrayals and insecurities at her back, with no need to race headlong into another catastrophe. And yet, for a dangerous moment, she had possessed neither the means nor the desire to stop herself from another train wreck and had been fiercely disappointed that he’d been the one to put the brakes on instead.

  Chapter Eight

  When Philip eased Val away from the dance floor, he had never been in more need of his natural tendency toward self-control. He’d been close to kissing her, had anticipated the taste and feel of her, and it hobbled his thinking, leaving him in a daze. But just when he was ready to give in, he remembered she didn’t know who he really was, and couldn’t follow through with the kiss. If she was going to kiss him, it would be Philip Wagner as he really was, not someone she imagined him to be. She had a right to make that decision and she couldn’t if he continued to hide his identity. He wanted her to choose to kiss the real him or it meant nothing.

  Thankfully, settling the bill and leaving the restaurant gave him the time to cool off and reset to normal. Outside, the night was a perfect intersection of balm and breeze. The path along the waterfront ended at a park that was always windy but the warm evening softened its sting. Val leaned on Philip’s arm, the walk clearing away the last of the fog that had descended on him during their dance. They argued briefly about Star Wars and laughed at the looks from other strollers at a particularly heated exchange over The Clone Wars.

  “The only good thing to come out of that was Ahsoka Tano’s storyline,” Val said, much to Philip’s chagrin.

  “That’s harsh, but you might be right.” He glanced past her smile and caught sight of her rosary. “I noticed your rosary the first night we met. It’s very distinct.”

  Her fingers traced the delicate chain. “It belonged to my mother.”

  She paused in their walk and reached behind her neck to pull the rosary over her head. Taking the crucifix in hand, she turned it over. “See here? On the back? My mother’s and father’s names and wedding date. And here?” She ran her thumb over the small, silver di
scs. “There’s one each for the three of us—me, then Rafi and finally the baby, Nati, though I’d never survive if she heard me calling her that. Our birthdays are engraved on the back.”

  She frowned caressing the last, round disk, neatly hidden behind the others. “I had this one made after my mother died. It has the dates of her birth and death. It’s not traditional but—” she sucked in a deep breath and handed the rosary to him “—it’s my way of making sure she stays present in my life. Otherwise, it’s like they die twice when you forget them.”

  Philip cradled the rosary, examining the onyx beads and silver chain, its fragile weight nevertheless heavy and substantial in his hand. Like her honesty, and his lies. “We shouldn’t do that to the people we love.”

  Val placed a hand on his arm, startling him. “Are you okay?”

  He nodded, uncertain. His experience with death was superficial. Relatives died when they were old, after living rather long, full lives. There was mourning and he missed them. But Val’s mother had been young, with a family depending on her. Val had dealt with so much, and he didn’t want to cause her more pain. He had no right to keep her in the dark about who he really was. His deception had gone on long enough.

  Philip looked at her and saw nothing but sincerity in her eyes. She was exactly who she presented herself to be, without filters. Nothing at all like him. “You’ve been so open with me. So truthful.” He brushed a hand over her cheek.

  “Philip?” Concern—or wariness—flared across her face. “You’ve been truthful, as well. Haven’t you?”

  He took one of her hands. He didn’t even have a right to touch her, but it was beyond his ability to resist. He let her hand fall and held her gaze instead. “Val, what’s my name?”

  The confusion on her face was painful to look at. “Philip? I got that one minute into our first conversation.”

  “Philip, what?”

  “Philip...” She trailed off, a sheepish expression replacing the confusion of earlier, as if not knowing his last name was something to be embarrassed about, as if he hadn’t been the one who’d done everything to keep her from making the connection. “I’m not sure.”

  “Philip Wagner,” he said, emphasizing his last name.

  Her smile caught him off guard. “That’s cool. My name is Valeria Soledad Navarro. If you add my mother’s last name, it’s Valeria Soledad Navarro-Hernandez. Try saying that fast.”

  She wasn’t getting it. “Val, my name,” he prompted, “is the same as my father’s company name. Wagner. As in Wagner Developments.”

  The confusion that stole over her lingered for a few more seconds before it shattered, giving way to a stormy darkness. Her reaction was far worse than he anticipated. “No.” She took a step back, bumping up against the railing. “Are you for real?”

  “Val—”

  “Increíble!” She threw her hands up, scrambling away from him. “No lo puedo creer. Maldito sea este hombre.” She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes and began pacing.

  “You’re... Val, you’re talking too fast.” He tried not to crash into her as she paced. “I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

  “It’s probably better if you don’t.” She dropped her hands and glared at him. “Philip Wagner? As in Wagner Developments? That Philip Wagner?”

  “I... Yes, Andreas Wagner’s son.” He stepped in front of her before she could start pacing again. “But I’m hoping it doesn’t change anything.”

  The wind whipping through her hair gave her a ferocious aspect. “Doesn’t change anything? Why should anything change for you? I’m not the one trying to destroy your neighborhood, selling it off piece by piece, leaving people on the streets after they’ve lived in their homes for years. I’m not the one who lied about who I was.” She turned on her heel, striding away from him.

  “Val, listen to me.” He raced ahead of her, forcing her to come to a stop. “I agree, there are definitely things we can do better. But I’m a designer. You know—I get reports and budgets and I... Val...” She dodged around him and continued down the waterfront walkway at a nearly military clip.

  “I still think ignoring the Expanded Universe is a huge waste of lore. I still want to have dessert with you at five in the morning.” His longer legs enabled him to outpace her, but she froze, backing away from him with arms crossed.

  “Why not just tell me the night we met and save yourself an expensive dinner?”

  “I tried. I wanted to tell you.”

  “Why does that sound a little unbelievable? Maybe you were hoping to find out something you could use to help your project?”

  She might as well have slapped him. “I’m not some industrial spy.”

  “Then why didn’t you tell me?” she shouted.

  “Because I’m a coward, okay? I was afraid if I told you, you’d leave and I’d never see you again.”

  “Well, you got the leaving part right, because I’m going home.”

  Philip’s shoulders drooped in defeat. It was late, and even though the streets were full of people, he wasn’t going to let her take any risks. “I can’t make you stay if you don’t want to. But I brought you here and I’ll get you back home safely.”

  Val’s lips were pinched thin, her arms still crossed over her chest. He was sure she would turn him down, but to his relief, she acquiesced. “Okay.”

  They drove back to Navarro’s in silence, Val staring out the window for the entire drive, even though there wasn’t much to see besides traffic signals and illuminated sidewalks. When he parked under the eternally flickering streetlamp in front of her building, he was sure she’d jump out at the first chance and that would be it. He wouldn’t see her again, just as he’d predicted. Her hand was even poised over the handle, as if she was ready to make her break for freedom.

  Therefore, he was taken by surprise when she turned to face him instead. “If you go up on the roof of my building, you can see the entire west side of Manhattan, at least up to the bridge. You, more than anyone else, know how much people are willing to pay just to be able to get an uninterrupted view of the skyline.”

  “I do know.” That was the whole point of their work in East Ward. Her town had both the fortune and the misfortune of being located on prime real estate.

  “My family came to make a life in this place, despite not knowing the language and being treated like foreigners, even though we’re technically as much citizens as you are. I cook and serve food all day. But I get to see the same skyline as you do, even though you’re rich and I’m not.”

  Philip’s stomach flipped. But he didn’t interrupt her. He could listen, at least.

  “That’s the dream my parents worked for. The dream for which they gave up everything. It’s the dream people like you are destroying.”

  “That’s a lot of responsibility to put on one person.”

  “It’s your company, isn’t it? Your family owns it?”

  There was no contesting that fact. “I don’t know what to say except I wouldn’t allow anything bad to happen to you.”

  “Because you know me? But that’s the point, isn’t it? Even if it isn’t about me, it’s always personal to someone.”

  She turned and stepped out of the car and was at her door before he could answer.

  Through the windshield, Philip watched Val push her way in and plod up the stairs to her apartment. Fluorescent lights were never forgiving, mercilessly illuminating every defect.

  Yet even in that glare, Val’s beauty struck back at the harshness, refusing to be diminished by overexposure.

  Philip had let his cowardice go too far, coloring a complicated situation with a veneer of deceit, something he wasn’t sure Val would forgive.

  The neighborhood pressed in on his awareness. It was late, but the streets weren’t deserted. An older couple stared at him as they walked past Navarro’s. What must h
e have looked like to them, sitting in an idling car, a human cutout against the darkness?

  Val’s words echoed through his thoughts. He heard fear in every one. She feared for her restaurant. Feared for her home. Feared for the changes to her community. And there was no question. No matter how attracted they were to each other, his was the face of that fear. He was the one bringing these things to her front door.

  He put his car in motion and set off, not toward home, but around East Ward. It was difficult to discern what he was looking at in the dark. He was familiar with the waterfront, since that was the location of their prized property—the sprawling factory that they’d start work on as soon as the city approved their plan. The Victoria was next door to Val, part of a block that was strategic to the renovation effort. He knew the demographics of East Ward, the average property values along the different streets and blocks.

  But as he studied the darkened storefronts, he realized he didn’t know East Ward. His father would argue that it wasn’t their job to know such things. Their job was to win contracts, maintain a reputation for excellence and turn a profit, a philosophy that he applied ruthlessly to every project he developed. The character of the place was of no consequence to him.

  But there were consequences to others. Philip had always been aware of this, but it was easy to ignore in the minutiae of his day-to-day work. He wasn’t confronted with this fact when he was working on his designs. They were a game of beauty and symmetry that allowed him to ignore how in the intersections of those gridlines, there were people living their lives. People he couldn’t just move around like Monopoly pieces. People like Val who would have something to say about it and would say it loudly.

  He was a threat to her and he hated the way that made him feel.

  Chapter Nine

  Val was running on pure fumes.

  Those were her father’s words. Ever since her failed date with Philip, Val worked twice as hard to keep from thinking about everything. About him. She arrived at the restaurant at four thirty every morning and stayed as late as she could, or until Nati or Rafi dragged her upstairs. She didn’t turn down or delegate any catering jobs, no matter how busy she got. When her evenings were free, she plugged in her earphones and blasted her playlist as she ran until the burn in her muscles forced her back home.