Recipe for Life
4
cups of Love
2 cups of Loyalty
3 cups of Forgiveness
1 cup
of Friendship
5 spoons of Hope
2 spoons of Tenderness
4
quarts of Faith
1 barrel of Laughter
Take Love and Loyalty,
mix
it thoroughly with Faith.
Blend it with Tenderness, Kindness &
Understanding.
Sprinkle abundantly with Laughter.
Bake it with
Sunshine.
Serve daily with Generous helpings.
Recipe
For Love
Highland Press Publishing
Florida
Recipe for Love
An Original Publication of Highland Press Publishing
Copyright © 2007
Each story copyrighted to the individual author
Cover Copyright © 2007 Deborah MacGillivray
Printed and bound in the United States of America. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photo-copying, recording, or by an information storage and retrieval system-except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a magazine, newspaper, or on the Web-without permission in writing from the publisher.
For information, please contact Highland Press Publishing, PO Box 2292, High Springs, FL 32655.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names, save actual historical figures. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
ISBN: 978-0-9787139-3-5
PUBLISHED BY HIGHLAND PRESS PUBLISHING
A Wee Dram Book
Contents
Suspicious Minds.…………… Leanne Burroughs……… 05
A Spaghetti Kind of Love….. Michelle McGinnis……… 47
Recipe for A Happy Life……………………………………………… 69
A Heart’s Hunger..………….. Anne Elizabeth.…………. 70
Recipe for Love…………………………………………………………..90
Kissing Kate….……..………. Jaquelin Lorin……………. 91
Birthday Blues.…………………. Amy Blizzard..…………… 118
Clam Chowder for Samantha’s
Soul………………………………… Jill and Julia…………….. 138
The Trouble with Belgian
Waffles……………………….. Kristi Ahlers….…………. 161
Keeping Hannah Safe..……… Billie Warren Chai……. 181
Recipe for Washing Clothes………………………………………. 202
Recipe for Disaster……..……… Bobbi Dumas..…………… 203
Soup d’Amour……….…….…… M.J. Sager………………… 223
Sweet Sauerkraut.…………….. Gerri Bowen…………….. 247
Another Recipe for Love……………………………………………. 269
The Man Has a Sweet Tooth.. Diane Davis White…….. 270
The Pumpkin Pie Murder……. Victoria Houseman……. 301
Chicken What du Hell………… Deborah MacGillivray… 322
Suspicious Minds
Leanne Burroughs
Darcy’s bottom hit the seat hard as she collapsed into the nearest chair. She wanted to block out everything around her. Make the last four hours not be true.
Her beloved sister was dead. Killed by a drunk driver.
This couldn’t be happening. Only two months earlier Janna’s husband had been killed in the war on Iraq. A war so many people believed we shouldn’t be involved in. Now Janna herself was dead. It was all too much to absorb.
Darcy sat staring at Janna’s newborn daughter. A beautiful baby girl delivered by cesarean section thirty minutes before Janna succumbed to her massive internal injuries.
Conceived with such love, what would happen to this tiny being now?
The doctors appeared optimistic, but cautioned they’d have to do an extensive round of tests since she was a month premature. The words echoed in her mind—cardiac monitoring, oxygen monitoring, blood glucose monitoring. Endless monitoring.
Red and shriveled, she looked…she looked…beautiful.
Darcy rose and walked to the side of the—what had the nurse called it—an Ohio Warmer, that was it. Huge, the machine dwarfed the infant inside.
Darcy bent to watch as the precious being struggled for breath. So many tubes everywhere. Only minutes before, the pediatrician had put her in a breathing hood. The diminutive rosebud mouth puckered before releasing an angry wail. Darcy placed her hand near one of the flailing arms. When the soft, perfectly formed fingers wrapped around one of hers, she thought her heart would burst with love.
This child would live! It must! It was all she had left of her beloved sister. In that instant Darcy knew she would do all she could to find this little girl the best home possible—just as Janna would have wanted.
* * * *
Darcy turned away and kicked the cabinet door closed with the heel of her shoe. “Heat’s out again!” She turned to face an elderly woman. “This is the second day in a row you’ve had to call me. Just wait until I give the super a piece of my mind.”
It was insanity. She knew nothing about running a restaurant. But Janna had loved this restaurant—her tribute to Elvis, and Darcy was trying very hard to respect that, to keep her sister’s dream alive—with both the restaurant and the tiny little girl she’d left behind. She had so much to think about. So many decisions to make. Everything seemed to be pressing in on her.
Truthfully, she didn’t know what to do.
“It’s all right, Darcy,” the elderly woman said behind her. “This is all new to you. You don’t have to learn everything at once, you know. That’s what we’re all here for. And we don’t have a looming deadline for reopening. I called the superintendent earlier today. Someone will be here this afternoon to check into the heat problem. For now, you need to get back to the hospital. Be with that precious baby. You can take all the time you need to get over Janna’s death.”
Darcy straightened. Get over Janna’s death? She’d never get over Janna’s death.
“I’ll never—”
Alice laughed. “Oh, dear girl! You should see your face. I swear, you look just like Janna did whenever she got upset with James.” The elderly waitress pushed strands of stray hair behind her ear before she put on her hat.
Darcy drew up short in her tour of the kitchen. “I didn’t think they ever fought. She never said—”
“Sweetie, there’s not a couple alive that doesn’t fight some time. But she loved that man with her whole heart. And the proof is lying in that warming bed back at the hospital.”
* * * *
“Problem will be fixed by this afternoon, miss.” The building superintendent, a gorgeous hunk if she did say so herself, had arrived a few minutes earlier. “I’m Ross Grayson. Just called a repairman and he should be here within the hour. Sorry for the inconvenience.”
“Inconvenience? It’s freezing in here.”
“Again, I’m sorry, miss. I promise I’ll be back to check on you tomorrow to make sure the heat’s been fixed.”
He walked across the room and her eyes followed every step. Watched the taut pull of his jeans as he moved. She hadn’t been this attracted to a man in . . . oh my, she couldn’t remember when.
She nodded, pulling her eyes away from him. This man had one fine butt. Uncomfortable with noticing, she grabbed her coat off a nearby counter. “If you’ll excuse me? Now that I know the problem’s being taken care of, I need to get back to the hospital. I have to check on Janna’s baby.”
The building’s superintendent strode around the kitchen, surveying the room. He stopped when he reached a pie cooling on a rack.
His brow raised as he bent and took a deep breath, a lock of light brown hair falling over his forehead as he did so. Straightening, his eyes locked with hers. “Tell me this isn’t a chocolate cream pie.”
Darcy smiled at the little boy expression on his face, easing the sexually charged tension crawling under her skin. It was the only little boy thing about him. Broad shoulders, narrow waist, strong thighs—the man was drop dead gorgeous. She had a hard time thinking!
“As a matter of fact, it is. I’ve spent so much time at the hospital,”—she smiled wistfully—“they insisted I take a break, get away for awhile. They removed Janna’s baby’s breathing tube today. I came here to catch up on some things. I’m not very good at cooking or baking, so I figured I’d best learn—at least until I decide what I’m going to do about the restaurant.” And the baby, she thought. Sighing deeply, she put the decisions from her mind; she’d deal with them later. “Alice told me she’d teach me how to bake some desserts, though I’m afraid she bit off more than she can chew, if you’ll pardon the pun.” She sighed. “I have no idea how I’ll keep open this restaurant my sister loved. Have no idea why I let her talk me into agreeing to be the next owner if something ever happened to her. I’m not sure I’m cut out to run it. Although it’s on the menu, I can’t serve peanut butter and banana sandwiches all day.”
A look of delight lit his tanned face, his blue eyes twinkling. “Need a taster? I’d be more than happy to make certain no one gets poisoned from this.”
She laughed, first time she’d done so in days, and resisted the urge to brush the hair from his forehead. “Taste all you want, but I warn you, I have no idea if it will be any good or not. Alice just left and she insisted I stay here until you arrived.”
A blush of clear embarrassment crept up his cheeks. She couldn’t tear herself away from his countenance. He reminded her of movies she’d seen of a young Robert Redford.
“Ah…knowing Alice, I’ll bet that means she wanted you to bake it for me.”
“Indeed?” She cocked her head.
He pursed his lips and nodded. “With my busy job, she knows I rarely eat home cooking. She must remember I’m partial to anything sweet.” He arched a brow as he lazily let his eyes wander from the top of her head to her toes and back up again.
Darcy furrowed her brow. “I really need to get back to the hospital. Tell you what, why don’t you take the pie with you?” Turning back to the counter, she placed her coat on it, bent and found a carry-out box.
Arms surrounded her as she gently slid the pie inside the box. “Just one bite?”
Still locked within his embrace, one arm on each side of her against the counter, she looked back over her shoulder into the bluest of eyes. Unwanted heat flooded her body. “I beg your pardon?”
His eyes lit with mischief as he stepped back. “Of the pie. May I have just one bite before you close the box? I warned you I’m a sugar junkie.”
Warmth rose to her face, embarrassed by her intruding sexual thoughts. So totally unlike her. What had she been thinking? Even worse, what had she been wanting? Silly questions. She knew what she’d been thinking, wanting.
“Of course,” she stammered. “I’ll cut a slice for you, but then I really have to go.”
With a nod, he sat at the counter while she cut a large slice, set it on a plate and handed it to him.
As he slid the spoonful of pie between his lips, her gaze fixed on his hands . . . large hands, hands she could imagine on her. Shocked, Darcy’s eyes snapped up to meet his, found the penetrating stare watching her intently, almost with an air of the Big Bad Wolf watching Lil’ Red Riding Hood. When his tongue darted out to capture the bit of chocolate that remained on his lips, she swallowed hard.
He was taking a long time to swallow that bite. She watched the muscular throat work, imagined kissing it. Oh boy, this isn’t good.
She struggled to have rational thought. The pie…oh yeah, the pie. “Not any good, huh?”
“Well . . . it’s . . .”
“Please be honest. You won’t hurt my feelings. I’m not a cook.”
“Are you sure you . . .?” At her nod, he continued, “It’s a tad . . . bitter.”
Darcy poured him a glass of water, which he tipped back and drank down quickly. “A tad too bitter, huh? I told you I couldn’t cook.”
He rose from his stool, dumped the rest of the slice in a nearby trash can.
“I’m sorry. Guess you won’t be wanting the rest of the pie.” She rose and grabbed her coat. “I should’ve stuck with Elvis’ favorite sandwich after all. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to the hospital. The doctors and nurses say Janna’s baby is doing fairly well. They say she’s a little scrapper—they call her Tinkerbell.”
* * * *
“Why are you always the only person here when I come to check on the building?” Ross stopped to appreciate the sight that greeted him. Clad in beige pants with a matching halter top, Darcy stood balanced on a stool, busily cleaning the inside of one of the kitchen cabinets. Cabinets he was certain were already spotless—but all he could do was stare at that bare expanse of skin along her midriff. Her pants tightened when she’d shifted to look at him, giving him a tantalizing view of her derrière. Those big brown eyes he’d almost lost himself in yesterday turned to meet his, glaring at him suspiciously.
“I gave the staff a few days off. I needed some time to myself to think. I needed to…”
He swallowed before he could speak. “Do things yourself?”
“Yes, how did you know?” She bent and reached for the counter to brace herself. Before she could step off the stool, Ross stepped to her side . . . his hands spanning her waist, lifting her off the stool. A jolt shot up his arms, slammed through his body and headed south. He set her to the floor quickly, shaken. Never had he had such an immediate reaction to any woman, and he’d certainly been around plenty of them. He tried to keep his eyes from her full breasts—and lost. He cleared his throat to cover his embarrassment.
“You strike me as the type who likes to be in charge. Also, I know your sister’s staff well. They were Janna’s extended family and want to help you.”
She looked at him, amazement reflected in those lovely orbs. He chuckled. “Plus, I saw Alice leaving yesterday, grumbling ‘someone has to learn everything the hard way, when she could just let us help.’”
Her shoulders drooped. “Although she doesn’t say it, she doesn’t think I’m going to be able to keep the restaurant open. She thinks I’m a . . .”
“A what?” His hand rose to her shoulder and squeezed in support.
“A . . . failure.”
He bristled at her self-deprecation. “I doubt that, Miss . . . I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.”
“Darcy. Darcy Sanders. I’m Janna’s sister.”
Her pain washed through him. “I knew you were Janna’s sister. And you’re not a failure, Miss Sanders. You’re one of the bravest women I’ve known.” It surprised him that he truly meant those words.
Surprise widened her eyes. “How can you say that? You’ve just met me.”
He nodded, taking in her long, chestnut brown hair, pulled back with a Scrunchie holding it in place. He had the urge to remove it and run his fingers through those luscious locks.
“True, and what I met is a very courageous woman bravely holding up under tragic circumstances. Caring for a newborn that isn’t hers.” He smiled. “Trying to learn to cook when you’re not good at it. Nothing in that scenario speaks to failure.”
She looked so dejected, without thinking he drew her close to comfort her. “That’s pluck and gumption, Miss Sanders, not failure.” He bent his head and sniffed her.
“Apple pie?”
“Apple crumb pie, actually.”
“With that stuff from a can?”
She looked offended. “Of course not. I used real apples.”
She stepped out of his embrace, though she had leaned into him for an instant, seemingly seeking his comfort. That simple movement made him feel more than it should. He wasn’t looking for a relationship. He was too busy working.
Without asking, he reached for a knife and cut himself a slice. He regretted his actions instantly.
Darcy watched his face. He tried to keep it blank, yet she could see he was having problems swallowing. With a deep sigh she reached for several paper towels and handed them to him.
Seemingly grateful, he turned his head and spit it out.
She crossed her arms and smiled. “So I should’ve stuck with the stuff in a can, huh?”
Ross looked sheepish, but nodded.
“Too bitter again?”
He shook his head no.
“Too sweet?”
He merely gave a faint nod.
She dropped down in the nearest chair. “I only came here because the hospital staff made me leave again. Since I’m not the baby’s mom, I don’t have a room. I have to stay in the waiting room. I think they’re tired of me sleeping on their couch.”
“I imagine they realize how much you love her, but are worried you’re pushing yourself too hard staying there all hours of the day and night—which it sounds like you’re doing.”
She pulled the recipe off the top of the counter and read it. “I did everything it said. I added all the ingredients just like . . . uh oh.”
“Uh, oh is not something a man wants to hear when it comes to food.”
Darcy gazed up at him. Darned if the man didn’t look smug, clearly trying to refrain from laughing. He couldn’t keep it out of his eyes, though. They were laughing.
“It appears I didn’t quite follow the directions as written.” She tried to hide the tears welling up. She would not cry in front of a total stranger!
Strong arms pulled her up from her seat and wrapped around her. It felt good to be held close. Even better was the steady, soothing caress moving gently along her back. Slipping her arms around him, she buried her head in the hollow of his shoulder. When she inhaled she could smell his aftershave and the clean scent of soap.
“I’m so sorry. It’s just that . . .” She had to stop before she blubbered like a fool.
“Just what, Sweetheart?”
“I can’t believe she’s dead.” Her voice cracked as the tears broke free. “I keep expecting Janna to walk through the front door any minute, turn on her sound system and load it with her supply of Elvis CDs. He’s the only artist she ever played here.”
He didn’t say a word. Just continued to hold her close.
In the background, piped in music played, ‘Don’t, don’t, leave my embrace. For here in my arms is your place.’
Darcy wanted to stay like this. Wanted to lean on him and let the world pass them by. She couldn’t do that. Gathering her run-away emotions and storing them neatly away again, she exhaled deeply and pulled out of his arms. She wiped the tears from her face.
“Thank you. I usually don’t break down in front of strangers. You must think me such a fool.”
“You’re not a fool, and I’m not a stranger anymore. Life’s thrown you a few curveballs of late. You’re just trying to get your swing back on an even keel.” He gave her shoulder a friendly squeeze. “You’ll get it. I have no doubt about that.”
A young man rushed into the kitchen, interrupting the much too cozy moment.
“Miss Darcy, I’m sorry to bother you,”—his eyes darted from Darcy to Ross and back again—“but someone from the hospital’s on the phone. They said it was real important.”
Almost forgetting to breathe, she rushed into the dining room and picked up the telephone by the reception desk.
“This is Darcy Sanders.”
She listened for a few minutes, then said, “I’ll be right there.”
Placing the phone back in the charger, she said, “I have to get back to the hospital. They removed Janna’s baby’s breathing tube yesterday, but it appears she wasn’t strong enough. They said she stopped breathing—and they had to intubate her . . . or something . . . again.” Her mouth quivered as she strove to hold back tears.
She failed again. “I shouldn’t have left her. Janna’s baby needed me—and I wasn’t there for her.”
“Grab your coat. I’ll drive you.”
“No, thank you, I’ll be—”
“Fine? Too bad. I’ll drive you anyhow. You’re too upset to be behind the wheel.”
* * * *
Ross Grayson drove up the ramp of the parking garage in search of an empty slot. Finally finding one on the top level, he parked his shiny black Lexus and got out, walking around to the passenger side.
“I meant what I said. You could’ve dropped me at the front door. There’s no need for you to walk me to the hospital. I’m perfectly capable of getting to the NICU on my own.”
“NICU?”
“Neonatal Intensive Care Unit. The baby’s been there since she was born over a week ago. I’ll be fine.”
“I’m sure you will, but I want to come with you.” A hint of a smile touched his lips. “Do you always make it this difficult for a man to be gallant?”
She laughed softly. “Now there’s a word I haven’t heard in a long time. Didn’t know any men still knew what it meant.”
Ross arched a brow and placed a hand over his heart. “You wound me. Do I hear skepticism there? Been burned by someone you love, have you?”
“Loved.” Darcy headed to the nearest entrance. “And I’d rather not talk about it.”
Hurrying past the glass encased waterfall in North Florida Regional Medical Center’s lobby, she headed straight for the elevator. While waiting, a melody of chimes played through the hospital’s sound system. She glanced over at Ross, a hint of tears in her eyes. “A baby was just born.”
He looked surprised. “How do you know?”
The elevator door opened and she walked inside. “They just played a lullaby. They always play it when a baby is born.” Pressing her lips together to fend off the tears, she added, “I remember hearing that same beautiful tune when Janna’s baby was born.”
Ross moved to the back of the elevator, pulled her with him and encircled her in his arms as other people entered before the doors closed.
She felt shy about being held in his arms in front of other people, yet she welcomed the comfort. When the doors opened on her floor she rushed out and headed to the nurses’ station.
Resting her elbows on the counter, she asked, “How is she?” to the nurse sitting behind the desk.
As the woman relayed how her niece had once again gone into respiratory arrest, a wave of uncertainty rushed over Darcy. She involuntarily leaned against Ross, drawing on his strength. His arms wrapped around, holding her tight. Merciful saints, that felt so good. It had been a long time since she’d had anyone to rely on. To be there for her.
Love? She’d been there once and had been badly betrayed by the man she’d planned to spend the rest of her life with. Worked to put him through medical school. Then, as soon as he got his license, he’d said he was moving on. Said he wanted a fancy wife to go with his fancy new practice.
She’d vowed then never to let anyone get close again. Now would be no different. She just . . .
With difficulty she pulled her thoughts away from the feel of his arms. “May I go in to see her? I know it’s a little before the regular time, but . . .”
The woman nodded and Darcy headed toward the door, Ross right on her heels. The NICU nurse on the other side opened the door to allow her entry. Ross followed. The nursing supervisor looked at him and frowned.
“I’m sorry, sir. Only family are allowed in here.”
“I’m family,” he said brusquely. Darcy wheeled about at his words. The look in his eyes dared her to object. At the nurse’s raised brow, she merely nodded and started into the large room toward the Ohio Warmer that held her niece.
“It’s time to feed her if you want to,” the nurse told her.
“Yes, I do,” she answered. “Very much.”
“Sit in the rocking chair.” The nurse motioned to a chair and Ross walked over to bring it next to the small isolette. “I’ll place her in your lap so we don’t disturb the tubes in her nasal cannula.” Darcy’s eyes swept the length of the tiny, delicate baby. She knew the doctors didn’t want to use the oxygen hood if they didn’t have to. There was always the worry it can cause eye damage if used too long.
Ross stood beside the rocker while the nurse warmed a bottle. Darcy sat and rocked the tightly wrapped babe, being careful not to dislodge the tubes.
He’d never seen a more touching sight. Oh, he’d watched his sister when she held his niece and nephew, but this was different. He beheld a brave young woman holding a child she loved, without understanding the depth of that love. She still referred to her as Janna’s baby. Yet, as Ross observed, he instinctively knew this little bundle was Darcy’s baby.
* * * *
A week later, after checking on the restaurant to make certain everything was okay, Ross drove to the hospital. Yeah, it was a flimsy excuse, but he had to come up with some reason to be here.
Exiting the elevator, he walked to the NICU visitor’s lounge. Stretched out on the couch, the woman he’d thought about all night lay sound asleep. Reaching, he gently pushed away the hair that had fallen across her face. She stirred, but continued to sleep, exhaustion clear on her lovely face.
Behind him someone cleared their throat. Ross turned to see the nurse who’d been inside the NICU the day before.
She didn’t leave the doorway, but continued to watch him.
“May I help you?” he finally asked.
“It’s really none of my business, but I can’t stand to watch her driving herself to the breaking point. She’s here every waking minute. You lied last week to get into the NICU. I let you get away with it because she needed someone to lean on. You’ve lied every day since, claiming you were family.” She arched a brow as if challenging him to deny it. “Now I’d like you to act like it.”
“I don’t know what—”
“Take her out of here. I don’t care what you do or how long you’re gone, just make her stay away for a few hours. Take her to that Elvis restaurant her sister owned. Take her across the street to the Oaks Mall. Or over to Butler Plaza. There’s a slew of restaurants over on Archer Road. I don’t care where you go. Just get her out of here. Make her live for herself for a few hours.”
* * * *
“I don’t want to leave,” Darcy protested minutes later as he put his arm around her waist and walked her toward the parking garage.
“I know you don’t, but you need to eat. I’ve wanted an omelet all week, so I’m going up the road to Perkins. You can either eat with me, or you can sit and watch, but you’re coming with me.”
She grumbled all the way to the restaurant, so Ross couldn’t help but laugh when she dug into her pancakes slathered with syrup. When her tongue darted out to capture some of the maple syrup, his insides tightened into a knot. He’d shifted in his seat to relieve some of the pressure on his fly, which was becoming increasingly uncomfortable.
Two weeks had passed since he’d met this woman. Just two weeks! Why did she have such an effect on him? She wasn’t like any of the rich women who moved in his circle. She was real—was earthy. Was there such a word? If not, there certainly should be, because it fit her perfectly.
“When we’re finished here, we’ll swing by your restaurant so you can check on things,” he told her, drawing his thoughts back to the present.
Her eyes narrowed in determination.
“I’m not going to the restaurant. I’m going to the hospital. I appreciate your concern, but while you’ve done everything to elude the topic, isn’t there a Mrs. Grayson you should be spending time with? You’re here every day. I’m sure neither your boss nor your wife appreciates you’re with me every day.”
Voice tight with control, he looked her in the eyes. “There’s no missus to worry about, and the boss…as long as I get my work done, everything’s fine. And I’ll take you back to the hospital after you’ve had a break.” His voice softened. “The nurse doesn’t want to see you at the hospital for a while, and it’s my neck on the line if I let you come back now.”
Her anger deflated as the song on the piped in music changed.
‘I wonder if you're lonesome tonight. . . .The world's a stage, and each must play a part.’
“Sorry about that,” Ross said, reaching across the table and laying his hand over hers. “Even when I take you someplace other than Janna’s Beale Street Elvis seems to follow you. I promise I’ll take you back to the hospital after we stop at the restaurant.” He smiled and reached down for her hand after he rose from his side of the booth.
* * * *
Ross strode into the NICU to find Darcy standing beside the isolette. In an instant he was beside her, pulling her into his arms. She turned, crying almost uncontrollably against his chest.
The baby seemed to be doing fine. Lowering his head, he asked, “Darcy, what’s wrong? The baby looks okay.”
She pulled her head away from his shoulder and peered into his eyes. “The doctor just left. He said the baby’s been here a month and she’s doing as well as if she’d been full term.” She stopped and bit her lip, clearly trying to staunch the tears.
He gently brushed the back of his fingers across her cheek. “That’s a good thing, Darcy. Why all the tears?”
“Because now they . . . because they . . .”
“They want you to sign the adoption papers?”
She nodded, her mouth and chin quivering.
Ross looked at her a long time, then pulled her back into his arms. “Tell you what. I need to leave for about an hour. You go sign all the hospital release papers. Before you know it, I’ll be back and we’ll take your little girl home.”
“But . . .”
She pulled back, looked up at him.
“Don’t fight it anymore, Sweetheart.” He rubbed his hand up and down her back to soothe her. “I saw she was yours the first day I came here. It was in your eyes as you rocked her—is there every time you look at her. I wondered how long it’d take you to realize how much you loved her.”
“But . . .”
“No more buts. I’m going to buy a car seat and an outfit for her to wear home.” He released her and started toward the door. He stopped with his hand on the door knob. “Just one question before I leave.”
Darcy didn’t say anything, just looked at him expectantly.
“What’s her name?”
Tears still glistened in her eyes, but a big smile lit her face.
“Emma.”
* * * *
“Here, you hold Emma for a minute and I’ll cut you a slice of pie. And you know this one will be good—Alice made it, not me.”
Ross looked surprised. “Hold Emma? Me? No, I don’t think that’s such a—” He stopped when she placed Emma in his arms.
Reaching up for the plate, she looked over her shoulder and laughed. “She won’t break, you know. You told me that every day in the hospital.” The man’s gaze was locked on Emma as he held her at arm’s length.
“What if I drop her? She’s—”
“Snuggle her in closer to your body and you won’t drop her. Be sure to place your hand beneath her head, since she can’t hold it steady by herself yet. It’ll just take me a minute to cut this for you.”
He held Emma up to his shoulder and gently patted her back. When she burped, he lowered her to look at her face. “Did you do that? You’re awfully tiny to make such an unladylike sound.” Her head moved, following the sound of his voice.
Darcy watched the sense of amazement on his face as she slid a pie server under the slice and placed it on a plate, then took it to the table.
“Look, she’s smiling at me.”
“Gas,” she told him, taking Emma from his arms. “I assume this means you don’t have any children. Is there a reason why you never mention anything about your family—or lack of one?”
“That wasn’t gas. The little heartbreaker smiled at me. And no, I don’t have any children. I don’t avoid the subject. Just not something I often talk about. I have a sister and a niece and nephew. They’ve been all the family I’ve needed.”
Darcy’s heart fluttered at that news. Just like it had when he’d told her he wasn’t married. What an odd reaction.
Ross headed toward the table, pulled out a chair, turned it and straddled it. His eyes swept the kitchen. “Everything looks fine in here to me. How much still needs to be done before the restaurant can be reopened?”
“I thought I’d paint it—”
“Why?”
“So it’s different. More . . .”
“More what?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Not quite so Beale Street.”
She nodded. “I don’t want to change it . . . I just want to change it.”
He pursed his lips. “In other words you want something to do. Something to keep you busy while you figure out the rest of your life.”
She bit her lower lip and nodded. “Is that so wrong?”
“Not at all. Tell me what color you want and we’ll start painting tomorrow.”
“We?”
“Certainly. I wouldn’t dream of letting you fix up one of my places without my help.” Whoops! Can’t believe I said that. Hope she didn’t catch that slip!
Darcy quirked a brow. “Most maintenance men aren’t nearly as accommodating as you, Mr. Grayson. They usually try to think of every excuse not to do something.”
A smile broke across his face. “You’ll learn very quickly, Ms. Sanders, that I’m not most men.”
* * * *
Bright and early the next morning Ross showed up at the restaurant with paint, drop cloths, ladders, and brushes—everything he could think they might need to paint the restaurant he’d just had professionally painted three months earlier. He wasn’t about to tell Darcy that. She needed to do this.
And for some inexplicable reason, he needed to let her.
He walked inside and found Darcy feeding Emma at the kitchen table.
Emma was cradled in Darcy’s arms, her tiny mouth sucking greedily at the bottle, her eyes fixed firmly on Darcy’s face.
Ross felt a jolt to his system, almost like he’d been gut-punched. It was one of the most beautiful sights he’d ever seen. The thought of a family had never appealed to him. He’d been too busy jet-setting to slow down for a wife and family. He’d flown to his restaurants in New York, Chicago and Los Angeles without a moment’s hesitation.
Until now.
He cleared his throat and adjusted his denim jeans. They’d suddenly become a tad too tight. A problem he seemed to have quite often in this woman’s presence.
“Good morning.” He carried several of the supplies in and placed them on the spotless kitchen floor. “So, are you ready to start your day of labor?”
She nodded. “I am.” She placed Emma on her shoulder to burp her, then strode toward the swing on the farthest side of the room. “I thought we’d put Emma over here. I don’t want her inhaling too much of the paint.”
Ross joined them and touched the back of his pinkie finger to Emma’s cheek. She turned her head and smiled at him.
“See, she smiled at me again.”
“Gas,” Darcy teased.
“No, it’s not. She likes me.” Like a rock climber whose line had just slipped, Ross felt his emotions hurtling out of control. He realized he wanted the child to like him. Wanted Darcy to like him.
‘Got to find me someone whose heart is free, someone to look for my dream with me.’
Ross groaned as he turned to open a can of paint and find a stirrer. Just what he needed. Elvis songs all day. And how did it always play the wrong song at the wrong time.
Or was it the right time?
* * * *
Working together, the afternoon pleasurable, Ross realized it was almost dinnertime when his stomach started growling. “Let’s wrap up here and head out for dinner.”
Darcy’s head whipped up from where she’d been concentrating on edging near a doorframe.
“Oh, I couldn’t possibly impose.”
“You’re not imposing. I invited you. I’d like to take you out to dinner—some place relaxing. We’ve put in a lot of work today. The only time you stopped was to feed or hold Emma when she fussed.” He glanced around the room.
“That would go over well with the other patrons. That’s probably the exact moment Emma would wake up and start wailing. She’s not quite ready to be in polite company yet.”
“You leave that to me. If you don’t mind a long drive, I’ll find a restaurant where we can be relatively alone. I know just the spot.”
‘Put a big long hook on a big long pole and I pulled Mr. Crawfish out of his hole . . . Crawfish.’
Ross closed the door to Beale Street, hoping to put an end to the sound system’s uncanny choice of lyrics.
* * * *
True to his word, an hour and a half later he pulled into the parking lot of a small seafood restaurant in Cedar Key. Putting the car into park, he turned to her and slipped his arm along the back of the seat. His fingers brushed her shoulder.
“Is the Captain’s Table okay? We’re not exactly dressed for any place fancy, but the food here is great. I usually eat here or Seabreeze on the Dock—although I’ve eaten at every restaurant here at some time or other. The island is so peaceful I often head over this way.”
He didn’t mention he owned a home he usually rented out. His eyes swept the rich Gulf waters. Palm branches of nearby trees swayed in the Gulf breeze. “And I never miss the Fourth of July Celebration or the October Seafood Festival. It’s not particularly quiet during the festivals, but they’re a lot of fun. The island is a place where time stands still. I think it would be good for you to kick back and relax. You’ve been so stressed since Janna’s accident.”
Darcy smiled as she got out of the car, stretching and taking in the peaceful surroundings. The early evening breeze wafted through her hair as Ross unsnapped Emma’s car seat from the back seat of his new black Lexus. A car seat was the last thing he’d ever thought to see in it when he’d bought it.
“This is perfect. I haven’t been here since I was a little girl and came with my grandparents. They loved the seafood here.”
True to Darcy’s word, Emma awoke as soon as they sat down at the window table overlooking the water. Seemingly unimpressed by the restaurant’s quiet ambiance, she started to cry. Prepared, Darcy lifted her from the carrier and shifted her in her arms to feed her—only to be stopped by Ross.
“Can I do that?”
She looked up quickly. “Do what?”
“Feed Emma.”
A smile edged her lips.
“You really are a glutton for punishment. First you help me paint, and now you offer to feed my daughter. It sounds odd to say that, but it feels so right. But sure, if you’re brave enough.” She leaned forward to shift Emma into the curve of his left arm. “Here’s the bottle.”
“It feels right because she’s your daughter. I knew that the first day I rushed you to the hospital. The instant I saw the way you looked at her, I knew you’d never give her away for adoption. She was yours.”
She watched as Ross held the babe and gently eased the nipple between Emma’s lips. It didn’t take long for Emma to latch on and suck greedily. The tiny chocolate eyes never left Ross’ face, and her tiny fist wrapped itself around his pinky finger.
Darcy’s heart gave a tug. Why should watching this man with her little girl give her such pleasure? He was only being polite. Then again, why did he keep coming around? There really wasn’t anything else he needed to fix in the restaurant. Shouldn’t he be paying attention to other tenants in the building?
As soon as Ross burped Emma and rocked her in his arms a few minutes, she fell asleep. He rose and gently placed her back in her carrier, mindful not to waken her as his nimble fingers strapped her in.
He sat back down just as the first course of their meal was served. Darcy smiled as she watched him dig into his food—a heaping pile of shrimp, scallops and clams. The man had a hearty appetite. He must work out to keep his body so taut. Not that she’d really paid attention, of course.
Who was she kidding? She’d done nothing but stare at him every time she had the chance. Several times she’d caught him looking back, a sensuous smile on his lips. How she wanted to taste those lips.
When his tongue dipped out to capture a dot of salad dressing, Darcy’s mind went into overdrive. She couldn’t take her eyes from his tongue. Wanted their tongues to dance. Wanted her whole body pressed against his. Wanted . . . she wanted too much.
It would never happen.
* * * *
Through his lowered lashes, Ross watched her watching him. Saw her eyes track his tongue as he licked the Thousand Island dressing from his lip. He’d like to lick something else—and it had nothing to do with salad dressing.
Each time he’d watched her move today as she stretched to run the roller over the wall, his body had flooded with desire. Her blouse pulled taut across her breasts every time she pushed the roller above her head, and her slacks ebbed and flowed with every movement of her long shapely legs and derrière. If he’d known painting could be so erotic, he just might have done it before.
But none of his past acquaintances had inspired him toward domesticity. And he sure as heck considered painting domestic.
As was feeding Emma. The little darling had captured his attention. For the first time in his life he’d wanted to hold an infant. Not because it was his niece or nephew—like with Nicole and Christopher—but because he wanted to. It wasn’t a feeling he was particularly comfortable with.
He reached across the table and covered Darcy’s hand as they sat and watched the sun sink over the waves cascading against the shore. The bright yellows, oranges, and pinks of the setting sun created a majestic display. And the soft touch of Darcy’s hand within his created a tightening sensation around his heart.
* * * *
Too soon the night ended and Ross drove cautiously along the winding roads back to Darcy’s apartment. This young woman had gotten under his skin. He wanted to pull her into his arms, kiss her lips—kiss her everywhere—but he thought it was too soon. She’d been hurt too recently with the death of her sister, the upheaval of her life. And he still had no idea what some jerk had done to make her so wary. If he knew who the guy was, he just might plant his fist in his face for making her so unhappy.
Shifting his gaze sideways briefly to watch her, Ross decided he was going to do something about that. Make her new life easier. And he planned on being a part of that transition.
The thought caused his heart to miss a beat.
Reaching her apartment complex, he got out of the car and hurried around to her side to help her out. He took her into his arms lightly, pressed a kiss on her cheek, then released her. He saw the wonder—the question—in her eyes. Good. Let her think about it.
He opened the back door to retrieve Emma’s car seat, then walked Darcy to the front door of her apartment. “I had a lovely evening. I’d like to take you some place fancier tomorrow night. Could you get a sitter for Emma?”
His words seemed to take her aback. “Oh, no. I couldn’t do that. She’s too tiny.”
“I thought you told me your mother lived nearby.” The side of his mouth quirked up. “Don’t you think she’d be pleased to have one of those ‘memorable grandmother moments’?”
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say my mother put you up to that.” Darcy laughed, then placed her key in the lock. “Okay, come inside a moment and I’ll call Mom.”
While she was on the phone, Ross unfastened Emma from her carrier. He started to pick her up, sniffed, and thought better of it. When Darcy returned, he motioned toward Emma. “The beautiful, adorable little girl over there has a very strong aroma floating up from her nether regions. I told her that wasn’t particularly ladylike, but she ignored me.”
A smile lit Darcy’s face. “And you didn’t rush to change her?”
“I love the little imp, but don’t think I’m brave enough for that yet.” What had he just said? That he loved her daughter? Time to change the subject.
“So, what did your mother say?”
“As you thought, she’s delighted. I mentioned we’d be home early, but she insisted we have a leisurely dinner and evening out.” Her laugh was music to his ears. “I told her that was nonsense. We’d be home right after dinner.”
Ross pulled her into his arms. She had to tilt her head up to look at him. “I rather like the sound of your mother’s plans. I think we should follow through on them—don’t want to rush her time with Emma.”
Lowering his head to hers, he ran his tongue over the seam of her lips. Urging her to part them, he took his time savoring the inside of her mouth. Wanted to kiss her like this for the rest of the evening—wanted to do so much more. The perfect end to the evening would be her body lying naked beside his after hours of mind-blowing passion. Instead, he forced himself to pull back, then headed toward the front door. If he didn’t leave now, he wouldn’t leave—and it was still too soon to rush her into a relationship. “I’ll see you at the restaurant in the morning to paint some more. But we’re only going to work half the day. I want you well rested so you can enjoy tomorrow night.”
He looked over at Emma and squiggled up his nose. “And now I’ll leave you to—that.”
The sound of her laughter followed him out to the car.
* * * *
The following morning Ross couldn’t take his eyes off Darcy. She wore another halter top—turquoise this time—with white shorts, exposing her long, slender legs. He about swallowed his tongue! He didn’t want to be on the other side of the room painting. He wanted to be next to her. Wanted to be holding her in his arms. Wanted to run his hands along the exposed skin—up under the halter top. Hell, he’d better think of something else quick!
“Let’s stop painting.”
Darcy eyed him suspiciously from atop the ladder. “But we just started. You said we’d paint half the day.”
“I changed my mind.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“Let’s do something else.”
“Like?”
‘Ask me if I wanted to caress you, and I’d confess. Ask me if I'm longing to possess you, I'll answer yes.’
To himself, he swore to tear out that sound system. To her he shrugged. “I don’t know. Let’s . . . bake something.”
“Are you trying to make fun of me? You know I can’t cook.”
“Practice makes perfect,” he teased.
Before she could protest, he reached up and lifted her off the ladder, slid her down the front of his body and regretted the action the minute he did it. He throbbed to life in an instant. Setting her aside quickly so she wouldn’t feel the proof of his desire, he headed toward the cupboards to find the ingredients for Butterscotch Squares.
His sister and he had loved them when they were kids. Now, his niece and nephew scarfed them down whenever someone in the family made them.
He handed her each ingredient in turn while she mixed everything together. Unable to resist the impulse, he ran his powder sugar coated thumb over her lips, then bent forward—tasting and teasing—to kiss it off.
She giggled, but quickly stopped as the kiss turned serious. Leaning her back against the counter, his arms closed around her as he moved closer. When she moaned and shifted against him, his hips bucked with need. How he wanted her! Tilting his head to gaze at her, the look of passion in her eyes was almost his undoing.
Emma chose that moment to begin wailing, screaming in her carrier in the corner.
Ross winked, then reluctantly stepped back and headed to get a pot from inside one of the lower cupboards. “Think she wants to be fed.”
Darcy bent to unstrap Emma from the carrier.
Ross watched her movements from the other side of the room. Enjoying the view of her derrière as he warmed a bottle of formula, he doubted he even needed the boiling water to heat the bottle. His body temperature should surely be enough to do it—his blood boiling from need. He checked the temperature on his inner wrist, then handed it to Darcy.
* * * *
Cradling Emma to her chest, she eased the bottle’s nipple through the cherub lips. Darcy lost herself in wide, chocolate brown eyes. She’d move heaven and earth to protect this beautiful girl with her cap of wispy brunette hair, and eyes so innocent.
So trusting.
“Marry me.”
The words jolted Darcy and her eyes jerked to his. “Are you mad? We just met. And we can’t afford to get married. I have no idea how I’m going to make a go of this restaurant, and while you’ll never know how much I appreciate your offer, I can’t burden you with my problems. I don’t know how much maintenance men make, but I like you too much to have you scrimp and save every minute of every day.”
Damn, but it hurt to turn him down. She knew he didn’t mean it. Was only being kind, but something inside her told her this would be right. And what was it she’d seen in his eyes when she’d said no? Surely it couldn’t have been disappointment.
Elvis chose that moment to croon, ‘Don’t be cruel . . . to a heart that’s true.’
Did it mean anything? Surely Janna wasn’t speaking to her. No, it was just coincidental. Just the next song on one of Janna’s many Elvis CDs.
* * * *
Why the hell did I say that? He’d never meant to blurt it out, but as soon as they spewed forth, he realized he meant them, knew she’d turn him down, not believing.
And she had done just that.
Didn’t want to burden him with her problems.
What a laugh! He thought of nothing but her and Emma every waking minute of every day. And lusted after her while he slept—oh, and while awake. It’s a good thing he had a great business partner, or he hated to think what would happen to all his properties right now.
Steven. His partner. The man had a brilliant head on his shoulders. Steven would take care of the restaurants—no worries on that end. The man was a whiz with numbers. Only he didn’t like to travel on business. He preferred to stay home with his wife and two daughters. And now that they had another one on the way . . .
That was it! Ross smiled as he thought of the perfect solution.
As soon as they pulled the Butterscotch Squares out of the oven and he helped her cover them with powdered sugar, he’d leave and take care of some business. Some very important business.
He reached for the box of sugar and poured it into a Ziploc bag. Tempted, he reached inside. He shouldn’t.
Yeah, well there were a lot of things he shouldn’t do. He swiped the white sugar across her nose.
In an instant she retaliated, snatching the bag from his hands and reaching inside for a handful. He doubled over with laughter when she flung it at him—covering not only him, but her cabinets and the floor as well.
The look of devilment in her eyes was just what he wanted to see. Darcy Sanders was far too serious most of the time. Grabbing the bag back, he dumped the rest of the powdered sugar over her head.
She lunged at him and he caught her, his mouth lowering to hers. His tongue darted out and licked away the sugar. Ah…she was sweet—and he didn’t mean the powdered sugar.
He lowered himself to the sugar covered floor, pulling her along with him. His tongue plundered her mouth—tasting, teasing—and his hand lazily wandered down her body.
‘Deep in my heart there’s a trembling question. Still I am sure that the answer’s gonna come somehow.’
* * * *
Ross and Darcy sat in the darkened restaurant. He reached across the table and covered her hand with his.
“I have a question for you, Darcy. I think I have a perfect solution to your problem.”
She laughed. “Which one? I have several, you know.”
“Beale Street. I know you want to keep it, but I also know you’re worried about running it.”
She opened her mouth to answer, but he stopped her.
“Let me finish before you say anything.” He paused and wet his lips. He hadn’t been this nervous since he’d been in high school. So much depended upon him selling her on this idea. If he didn’t, all was lost. And he wasn’t used to losing. He’d been a success in his business ever since he and Steven had opened the doors. “What if you keep the restaurant, but let someone else run it for you? Kind of a partnership. You’d get a percentage of the profits, but you wouldn’t have to be there on a day-to-day basis. You’d get to stay home and take care of Emma.”
He stopped and watched her process the information. She looked interested, yet . . .
“What’s wrong? What about the deal worries you?”
“The restaurant is Janna’s dream. And when she talked me into letting her list me in her will, I agreed to take over the management. Neither of us believed that time would ever come. While I might not love Elvis quite as much as she did, it still seems right to keep Beale Street. I wouldn’t want someone changing it.”
“Not major changes, love. But I think a few changes would make it more successful. Instead of the blues theme Janna had throughout the restaurant, I think a more upscale theme would be best. True class—with hints of Elvis here and there—just not plastered everywhere.”
When she frowned and still didn’t say anything, he shrugged. “Or, we could turn it into a 50s hamburger joint—complete with Wurlitzer and a soda fountain. Elvis could blast away all day.”
Finally she smiled. “You really think it would work? I’d still have some say in what went on at the restaurant even if I wasn’t there every day?”
“Of course you would. I’d set it up so you owned half the restaurant. And I already have a buyer for you, if you’re interested.”
Her eyes widened. “You do? Who?”
“He’d rather remain anonymous at this time. But he thinks it’s a wonderful idea.”
A smile lit her face. “The hamburger joint or the upscale restaurant?”
“I think he was leaning toward the upscale restaurant,” he admitted.
“And the music?”
“Still Elvis, just very low key. Not overpowering.” His eyes locked on hers. “How does that sound.”
“I think I might like it. I’d have to talk it over with Mom, of course. And I’d have to see what the lawyer handling Janna’s estate thinks. If he agrees it’s a good idea, we’d have to see how fast he could process all the estate paperwork.”
“I have the proposal with me, if you mean that. It’s in the briefcase in my car.”
Darcy raised a brow. “You were that certain I’d say yes?”
“Ah, so suspicious again. No, actually I wasn’t certain at all. I just hoped.”
“You think this is the right thing to do?”
He nodded. “I do.”
Lord, how he wished she’d say those words to him.
“Then I’ll definite consider it. You can give them to me when we go back to my apartment and I’ll talk to Mom about it tomorrow. If she’s against it, I won’t do it. She’s been through so much lately. I wouldn’t want her to think I was taking my ownership in Janna’s restaurant lightly. We can pick Emma up from my mom’s, put her to bed and then you can explain this to me some more.”
They finished their meal and headed back to discuss the deal.
She frowned when she read the proposal and saw the buyer. “But this says GrayDon Industries is buying the restaurant. They’re the corporation that owns the building Beale Street is in. I thought you said—”
“They think actually owning the restaurant instead of just renting the space out will work perfectly. And you see here,”—he pointed to the paperwork—“it says you’re a fifty-one percent owner. You’ll always have one more share than they do to ensure it’s always run the way you want it to be.”