by Lavinia Kent
She glanced about her kitchen, all blond wood and soft-hued marble. She loved her kitchen. She loved her house. She was always satisfied here.
So why did she suddenly feel bored—and empty?
She picked up the phone again.
Feel like cooking steaks? I could be there in a few hours?
* * *
—
Clay should have insisted on making steaks again, because the food here was awful. Not merely bad. Truly awful. The smell of the rancid sesame oil drifted up from his plate in cloud of foulness, killing any appetite he’d had. Even if the rest of the food had been good, it would have been impossible to eat it with the stench filling his nostrils. And it wasn’t good. He didn’t normally expect cubes of frozen carrots and pale green peas in his Chinese vegetables.
He glanced across the small table at Jordan. She was trying to keep a smile on her face, but the bites she was taking were the smallest possible.
“We don’t have to stay, you know,” he said, putting down his chopsticks.
“No, it’s really fine.” She took another bite, another small one. “I am quite happy.”
“Be honest. It’s worse than the last place and I didn’t think anything could surpass those hockey puck burgers.”
“I know, but…” Her teeth worried at her lower lip.
“And don’t think that because I chose it, I feel any attachment to it. I was only looking for a restaurant I’d never heard of with no crowd. You wanted someplace nobody would see us and that’s what I’ve looked for, but after two weeks I am running out of ideas.”
An honest smile spread across her face. “And I do appreciate that. I really do. I just want to know what happened to all those wonderful holes-in-the-wall people are always talking about. I thought bad restaurants didn’t survive in this city.”
Clay glanced about the almost empty restaurant. One older man sipping a cup of tea, with nothing else in front of him. Another couple, the man much older, the woman much, much younger. “Maybe there’s a secret directory of places for when you don’t want to be seen, places where the food is so bad that nobody comes.”
A small laugh. “If there is, we do seem to be doing a good job of finding them. That first one we went to was good, but it was way too crowded. I should have known that if it had recently gotten a decent write-up it would start to attract crowds. I did see several people who looked familiar.”
He leaned across the table, took her hand. “I don’t understand why you’re so against us being seen. I don’t think it’s a problem at all, but surely we could always think of some excuse—unless we’re someplace like this. There is clearly only one reason that anyone would come to this kind of place.” He glanced at the other couple. The man was rubbing his thumb across the inside of the woman’s arm. Definitely not father and daughter. “Why don’t we just go somewhere good next time? It doesn’t have to be hot and trendy, but someplace where you don’t wonder what the meat really is.”
“You know how I feel—and I haven’t changed. Are you still okay with it?”
He wasn’t. He really wasn’t. He wanted to take her out and show her off. He wanted to give her a chance to shine. “If that’s what you want, I’ll try not to complain.” He shoved a chopstick into his food and twirled it around. “Although it is hard sometimes.”
She laughed, but he could hear an edge of tightness. “It’s fine if you complain about the food. I do want honesty between us.”
Honesty. That was what he wanted, too, but he knew if he started to express his real feelings Jordan would flee. “Then I honestly don’t want to eat another bite of this. Let me get the check and we can go.”
“You don’t need to…”
“Let’s not argue about it. I suggested this place and I am going to pay. I have nothing against splitting the bill in general, but I refuse to let you pay for food you couldn’t eat.”
She gave a little sigh. “You always seem to have an excuse for why I can’t contribute.”
“Next time, I promise. Besides, you do come into the city instead of making me trek out to Forbidden Cove. Although, I believe we agreed that next time I was going to pick up steaks from my butcher and bring them out to cook at your place.”
She hesitated. She had agreed to it, but still she hesitated at the thought of having him in her home. She would pretend there was some other reason, but he sensed the truth—and decided not to push it, to push her. “Unless you’d rather just come into the city again. I might do a better job in my own kitchen.”
Jordan put her chopsticks down, as he waved for the waiter and settled up. “I’ll let you know,” she said. “But for now, why don’t we stop and pick up some sweets for dessert. My treat.”
He looked across at her, slightly confused. She did like sweets, but she’d never been driven by them.
A dimple formed in one of her cheeks, she leaned toward him, her voice quiet. “I do have to head back early in the morning. I have some planning to do, but I was thinking of picking up some whipped cream and chocolate sauce.”
“I am not sure I have ice cream. Do you want to get that, too?”
“Oh, I don’t think we’ll need any ice cream.”
* * *
—
“You want to start what?” Veronica asked as the two of them walked down the stone path to the windswept beach outside Jordan’s house.
Jordan stopped, digging the toe of her shoe into the sand. It had been almost a week since she’d even texted with Veronica, a week in which she’d seen Clay four times and tried to find something to do with herself in the hours she had not been with him. It had left her with far too much time to think. “I was thinking about what you said, about how I wasn’t as involved as much in A Place for Family as you would have expected. I think I need to start fresh, so I want to create an organization to help older teens who find themselves alone in the world, something to help them learn the skills they need to cope and to give them enough support to enable them to thrive.”
“And where is this coming from? I’d ask if you’re crazy, but I know better. I know I said you needed to find something to do, but I was thinking of a job, or school, not another charity. Don’t you do enough of that now?” Veronica faced into the wind, twisting her long hair into a knot and yanking it tight.
“Yes and no. I enjoy helping the foundation decide where to spend its money and A Place for Family is great, but all they really need me for now is fundraising. And I’ll be honest. I could get more involved, but Lydia works there and while I know it’s petty, I just don’t want to be near her. I told you about the conversation I overheard, but it’s not like I can fire her because she dated Clay for a while. And you’re right, I’m not doing the work. I should be involved directly with the families, but I don’t really have the training. So I thought maybe I’d find out what I need to do to start up something new and at the same time I could maybe go back to school, get a degree in social work or something.”
“I understand about Lydia and about you wanting something that’s all yours. A Place for Family was always more about Mark and Amelia. But are you sure this is what you want to do? It all feels a little out of the blue.”
Jordan stared out at the endless ocean. “You are right on all counts. And yes, it is what I want. I’ve had plenty of time to think these past days.” Time when she’d been working very hard not to obsess about Clay, not to wonder what he was doing.
“Now, that was a very definite yes. Exactly what I want to hear when an associate’s reporting to me. I’m surprised. I don’t know why. In so many ways it makes sense, but tell me more about why this would be different from what you already do. Make me understand.”
“I want to really be helping, working one-on-one with those in need. I plan to start small and work up. That’s part of why I asked you over. I can put together the funds, put in some of m
y own and raise more. I do seem to be good at raising money, but I want to do something more concrete. I want to offer some kind of housing and also help with jobs. I keep thinking about what I could have used after my mother died. I mean, I started waitressing full time, but it wasn’t like there was really any future in it. I would have worked at it forever merely trying to pay my bills. I might have managed to pay for college, but when I look back it seems unlikely. Even if I’d gotten a scholarship, I would have had to worry about housing and books and even food.”
Veronica paused, turned to look at her. “I asked you before, where is this all coming from?”
“I’ve always wanted to help. It’s simply taken me a while to figure out how. Not that what I’ve created so far was wrong. It was exactly what I needed at the time and it has done tremendous good, but…”
“Nobody would ever deny the good you’ve done with A Place for Family, but I have the feeling this is about more than that. Why are you suddenly thinking about your mother dying? It’s been almost twenty years. And don’t tell me you never quite get over such a thing. I know that. What I want to know is why now?”
“When did you become such a therapist? Last time you convinced me I married Mark because I was looking for a father figure and now you’re having me analyze my feelings about my mother’s death.”
Veronica laughed. “I’m simply curious about the sudden change. I just want to understand how life has made you change, probably partly so I can understand my own life.”
“Oh?” That was a good distraction from far too probing questions.
“Don’t give me that look. I’m realizing that I’m getting older and need to make some decisions regarding family. I’ve been happy focusing on work for so long, but maybe it’s time to look beyond that.”
“And you were the one advising me to live a little. You could probably use a bit of life yourself. Staying in the office past ten P.M. is not conducive for having a healthy love life. And how long do you want to work at your father’s firm?” Jordan had always been jealous of Veronica’s drive, but if she stopped to consider…
“You are right about that. You’d be amazed if I told you some of the things I’ve found distracting recently. I think my body may be telling me it’s been far too long since I had sex. Unlike you. I haven’t mentioned it, but you’ve been grinning and glowing since you opened the door and I don’t think it’s because you’ve finally found direction in life. Did Clay Windsor contact you again?”
Now Jordan was blushing. “Actually, I contacted him. Or rather, I showed up at his place and invited myself in. I decided that if I was going to do this I needed control. I wasn’t going to pretend that it was just happening and was beyond my control.”
“And I take it he was enthusiastic.”
“I’m not quite sure you can say that. I mean, he was about the sex—quite enthusiastic, to put it mildly, but he’s not so happy that I want to keep it secret, have a hush-hush affair. He tried to persuade me to change my mind before I left in the morning. And every time I’ve seen him since I can tell he doesn’t understand why I want to go to some little hole-in-the-wall where we don’t know anyone.”
“Why? I mean, why hush-hush? I know that keeping it a secret can add a delicious edge, but it’s not like either of you is married.”
“I thought I’d explained before. I don’t want any more talk and gossip, and you know there would be. The age difference might not be huge, but it’s big enough that people will talk. I’ve had plenty of that to last a lifetime. Most people will be like mean girl Lydia, saying how he’s too young for me. And it will bring up all that was said years ago when they thought I was a gold digger. And don’t forget the nasty comments when Mark left most of his money to Amelia. They’ll say I’m just after another rich man. I’ve come to enjoy my quiet life. I don’t want to change it.”
“So what if people talk? I’ve been talked about. It’s not so bad. And I thought this whole conversation was about the fact that you did want to change your life.”
“Yes, but I don’t want gossip about how I need a man to make those changes. You’ve only been talked about because of what an amazing success you’ve been. It’s never been because they said you slept your way to the top.”
“At least they’ve never said it where I can hear. And they have talked about how I’m only where I am because of my father.”
“I’ve never heard that.”
“You’ll have to trust me. But we’ve changed the subject. I want to hear about you and Clay. Is he still as amazing as he was the first two times?”
Jordan turned her face back fully into the wind, staring out over the choppy waves. Did she really have to answer that? Despite her confidence in her decision, it was hard to believe all the things they’d done with each other. She clenched her thighs together. “Yes.”
“Another of those definite yeses. Details, please! Remember, we’ve just discussed the fact that I haven’t gotten any for a long time. Have pity. Let me live vicariously.”
She was not going to talk about how hot she’d found it to be pressed against the window naked, with all the city spread before her—or any of the other things they’d done. “If I say I’m still deliciously sore, is that enough?”
“No. It makes me even more curious. Come on, give me one detail.”
“I think the man would be more than ready for anything I suggested.”
“Like what?”
“We had sex in the kitchen, up on the counter. Then he smeared me with jam and…And that’s all I’m going to say.”
Spinning in a circle, arms out, as they had when they were teens, Veronica laughed. “Oh, you dirty, dirty girl. I’ve always loved morning kitchen sex. I’m assuming morning, based on the jam. Night tends to be whipped cream or chocolate sauce.”
More ideas filled Jordan’s mind, as she remembered just how much she’d enjoyed dribbling the sauce—and licking it clean. She did her own little circle, giving in to the moment. It was so good to simply play…Yes, Clay was exactly what she needed.
When they were thoroughly windblown and tired, they slowly walked back to the house, quiet and lost in their own thoughts.
“Will you come in for a hot drink—tea? Coffee? Something to warm you up?” Jordan asked as they reached the walk up to the porch.
“Not this time,” Veronica answered. “And don’t think I don’t see the relief on your face. I believe we could both use a little time to think.”
“Well, don’t think you’ll escape next time without telling me what has you so bothered—and why you haven’t been having sex. I’ve been remarkably candid and now it’s your turn.”
Veronica turned and started to walk toward her car. “I’ll consider it. I have to admit things to myself before I’m ready to talk to you.”
“That I understand. I think it’s the hardest part.”
Chapter 15
Jordan entered the house just as the phone began to ring. She’d left it on the charger; reception was awful on the beach anyway. Detaching the wire, she glanced at the screen. Amelia. Deep breath. She would not put this off. “Hi, honey, what’s happening?”
A low, deep laugh answered her. “You shouldn’t ask. I’m full of wedding details and could keep you busy until dusk over little things you won’t really care about, like the difference between blush- and shell-colored roses. I didn’t know there was a difference and now I’m obsessed. And we won’t even talk about Alex and trying to choose two wedding gowns that will flatter each other and not be overpowering.”
“It sounds like fun. You know I love to listen.”
“First you have to let me apologize for taking so long to get back to you. I really have been busy.”
“You did text me a couple of times. You know I just want to know you’re okay.”
“You’re sweet to say that, but the truth is, I�
�m finally calling to find out what’s happening between you and Clay. That is why you were asking about him, isn’t it?” There was a strange note to her voice.
“What?” How on earth had Amelia figured that out from one little voicemail?
“What’s happening between you and Clay?”
“I don’t know what you mean?” She hadn’t meant to say that, but her heart was hammering a million beats a minute. She had no idea how Amelia would react to the truth.
“I mean why are you asking about him and why is he buying you a dog? I didn’t know you’d even seen him in years.”
A dozen curses ran through her mind. How did Amelia know about the puppy? She barely knew about the proposed puppy. Somehow this was all going faster than she had planned. She would lead Amelia into it slowly. “I hadn’t seen him until recently. I ran into him at a fundraiser and we talked.”
“And how does a brief conversation turn into a dog? I didn’t even know you wanted one.”
Jordan sank into a chair, wishing for a glass of wine, but not quite ready to fetch it. It was definitely better to talk about puppies than Clay. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while. I hadn’t quite made up my mind.”
“I still don’t understand why Clay is involved.” Amelia had always been persistent.
Given that Jordan didn’t quite understand either, it was hard to answer. She would try honesty—to an extent. “I don’t really know myself. I did talk about wanting a dog. I was discussing it with Charles Burke when Clay joined the conversation. They both thought that I should get a big dog as protection, but I wanted one as a friend, something small that won’t pull me. I thought that was the end of it, but then the next time I saw Clay he mentioned that he’d bought me a Cavalier puppy. I didn’t realize he was serious.”
“I still don’t understand. But he’s clearly very serious. One of my friends is a breeder and Clay’s put down the deposit already. I only heard about it because my friend mentioned it was for you. It’s just by chance there was even a puppy available, mostly they’re sold before they’re even born, but the litter was a little unexpected so they hadn’t lined up buyers. I think she was the only one left.”