A Fine Romance (7 page)

It was easy to write off an entire social group—until one of them stood before you, sniffling and teary. It was also dead wrong. His mother would probably lecture him for two days straight if she found out he’d been such a judgmental prick. Sam passed over the paper napkin he’d grabbed from his pack. In that odd way of all women, Mira dabbed the corners of her eyes, and then underneath.

“Ivy never cared about my background. She never made a big deal about it. Daphne cracked jokes, so I knew she’d be cool.” With a head shake that sent her ponytail horizontal into the wind, Mira’s spine straightened back to its familiar, ramrod position. “I guess I shouldn’t have leapt to the assumption the rest of their friends could handle it so well.”

An hour ago Sam would’ve slapped back at her high-handed insult. But now he’d seen a glimpse of the complicated, vulnerable woman beneath the ice princess facade. Worse, he knew he deserved the dig. His response had nothing to do with possible recrimination from Ivy for making her friend cry. It had everything to do with his genuine regret at hurting Mira. He cupped his hands lightly around her upper arms.

“You’re right.”

Her toned muscles tensed beneath his palms. “What?”

“I made a snap judgment. It was stupid. I’m sorry.” Thick-lashed blue eyes widened at his words, but he couldn’t tell if it was from surprise or disbelief. Funny how her eyes were the same color as the miles of lake surrounding them. A man could drown in eyes that deep blue. “You don’t deserve to be judged on anything more than who you are, right now, in front of me.”

At that, her biceps softened. Her entire demeanor softened, and even her lips fell into an open circle. “Oh.”

Sam wiped away the last teardrop glistening on her lashes. As his thumb grazed the softness of her skin, he couldn’t resist feathering the back of his knuckles down her cheek. It made those bright red lips purse into a tighter circle, that drew him like a tempting target. One that drove away all thoughts of why this might be the worst idea ever. He dipped his head and kissed her.

It only took a second to realize one kiss wouldn’t be nearly enough. Mira’s lips were cool from the wind and spray at first, but quickly warmed beneath his. Soft and pliable, they melded against his the same way her body leaned into him. Eagerly he wrapped his arms around her waist, drawing her even closer. It lined everything up in a way that jacked his desire from hot to supernova. He bracketed her legs with his, making sure to keep contact with their long, smooth length. It made it easier to turn her, angle her back against the rail. He caught one last glimpse of those alluring eyes before they fluttered shut.

“This is...” she whispered, barely able to be heard over the slap of the water against the hull.

Sam didn’t like where that sentence might be going, so he kissed her again. “...terrific,” he said.

Not satisfied with slow nibbles, Sam deepened the kiss. She tasted sweeter than his honey truffles. Mira moaned as his tongue swirled, learning the secrets of her mouth. Learning just where to apply pressure, where to linger that made her clutch at his back. Her long nails dug through the thin cotton of his shirt, but he didn’t care. Sam relished the proof he’d roused her. All he wanted was to seduce more moans, more sexy little gasps out of her.

He wrapped his hand around her ponytail and tugged her head to the side. There, on the side of her neck, he licked at the spot where her pulse fluttered against the surface in a rapid triple time that matched his own. Mira wriggled, a move that threatened to pop his dick right through his shorts. The way she flowed against him, with the sinuous ease of perfectly tempered melted chocolate, made him want to drop to the deck, rip off all of her clothes and bury himself deep inside her. Another few minutes, and he wouldn’t have a choice in the matter. His below-the-belt brain would take over completely if they kept up this level of foreplay.

Hell, he hadn’t even touched her breasts yet. And that was a treat he refused to skip or rush. Or shortchange her the pleasure he had every intention of bestowing. No, they wouldn’t have sex until she begged. Until she wrapped those chorus-girl legs around his waist and joined them herself. Until he’d worked her into such a frenzy that she quivered at the touch of a single finger, and screamed his name to the heavens as he lapped at her—

Obnoxiously loud, the ship’s foghorn split the air. Mira’s eyes flew open. Her arms dropped to her sides.

“Don’t worry. Nothing’s wrong. The captain’s just saying hello to the bridge operator.” He eased back a bit so she could take in the first of a series of high drawbridges that spanned the river. “It’s a waterway tradition here in Chicago. Like how they kiss under bridges in Venice, but not nearly as fun.” Sam cupped her cheek, then traced her generous bottom lip with his thumb. “And speaking of kisses, where were we?”

Mira twisted her head away. Her ponytail lightly slapped his cheek. “Oh, I don’t know. Out of our minds, perhaps?”

How did she do it? How did she burrow under his skin like a fire ant with just a sentence? “Don’t do that. Don’t pretend for a second you aren’t as revved up as I am right now.” He lowered his hand from her waist to her sweetly curved ass and squeezed. “Or do you need me to prove it?” Sure enough, she twitched, grinding her hips into his.

“No. Stop that!” Mira pushed at his chest, breathless. “Enough already.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“For now, I do,” she hissed. “Don’t be an idiot. With moves as smooth as yours, you must know full well how effective a kisser you are.”

“Effective? Way to damn me with faint praise.” Sam made sure not to let a smug smile get any further than his eyes. But he knew he had her.

She rolled her eyes, but stopped pushing him away. “Okay, you were fabulous. Will that do? Your lips deserve a gold medal. Your technique is flawless. Sam Lyons should be listed as a must-do attraction on all the Chicago sightseeing maps.”

“That’s more like it.”

“What I meant was that we were out of our minds to grope each other on a fully packed boat. I think our fellow passengers wanted to take in the sights, not a sex show.”

“Trust me, no one can see us. Except maybe the captain, and he deserves a little excitement. Poor guy pilots in the same straight line three times a day. Must be like throwing a bowling ball with the bumpers up.”

Mira pointed off to the side, where two tricked-out power boats bobbed very close. Both were full of water-skiers in trunks and minuscule bikinis, clapping, hooting and waving at Mira and Sam. “I don’t want one of them to video us. With my luck they’d post it on the web and it’d go viral by the time we docked. I’m quite sure that’s not the sort of free publicity Ivy wants me to drum up for the store.”

“What happened to
there’s
no
such
thing
as
bad
publicity
?” But Sam saw her point. And he backed off a few steps, leaning against the wheelhouse with his legs crossed at his ankles. He didn’t really want to be the feature of the day on YouTube, either. The guys would never let him hear the end of it.

“Soooo.” She let the word unfurl slowly, like a birthday horn. Then she fiddled with her shirt, and tightened her ponytail. Stretched her arms out along the rail, and crossed her ankles, mirroring his pose.

It only took until her third deep inhale for him to figure it out. Mira was nervous. She’d liked his kisses. Hell, she’d bent over backward explaining just how much she liked them. And now she had no idea what came next.

Well, neither did Sam. It’s not like he’d planned to kiss her. He didn’t have a rule about it or anything, but it struck him as wise to steer clear of women who practically scalped him. Not to mention women who took everything he said the wrong way. Life was too short to waste on high-maintenance, snippy women.

However, life was also too short to waste by not kissing this particular vibrant, beautiful woman right in front of him. Especially when being with her distracted him so thoroughly from the looming question of his future. It wasn’t much of a plan, but Sam could think on his feet. “We should go on a date.”

“Should we?” The thin slash of just her right eyebrow arced up into a half moon. “What gives you that idea?”

Sam wasn’t ready to lay out a firm case. This was more of an itch between his shoulder blades. The kind that wouldn’t let you concentrate on anything else until you scratched it. Call it a hunch that he needed to spend more time with her, even if he couldn’t fully explain why. “I’ve discovered there’s more to you than the annoying princess veneer. I’d like to find out what else you’ve got hidden under there?”

“Interesting premise. Or, maybe this is a monumentally stupid idea.”

He chose to ignore the stupid comment, and latch on to the fact she found the suggestion interesting. “Not at all. As you pointed out, we’re on a full boat, shouting to be heard over the engines and the rushing water. Not the ideal circumstances for a first date. I didn’t even wear my lucky blue first date shirt.” She’d stopped fidgeting. He’d take it as a good sign.

“What makes it lucky?”

Gotcha. He had her on the line, and it wouldn’t be too hard to reel her in. Well, for the date, at least. Sam had no doubt Mira was nothing if not full of complications. “I always get a second date when I wear it.”

“You sound like a girl, Sam. I never would’ve imagined you to be a fan of fashion.”

“I’m not.” Snorting, he waved his hand at his one hundred percent non-name-brand outfit. “I’m a big fan of second dates, though.”

Mira laughed. “I like your honesty. So I’ll admit I like second dates, too. Of course, the third date is where things really get exciting.”

“Come on, give me a chance to take you out and get to know the real you. You had fun today, right?” Shit. All she’d done so far was cry and kiss him. Probably the wrong thing to ask.

“The last five minutes weren’t so bad.”

She was like the rainbow trouts he hooked in this very lake, fighting against every attempt to be reeled in. Except Sam knew he had her on the line. Tire her out, and he’d get her eventually. “Well, I put zero effort into this excursion. Imagine how much fun you’ll have once I buckle down and put serious thought into impressing you?”

Mira batted her lashes in double time. “Be still my heart.”

“Plus, we’re pretty good at the kissing part. Don’t you want to find out how good we’d be at the rest of it?”

“Mr. Lyons, are you trying to seduce me?”

“Ivy did tell me to be nice to you. I’m just following orders.”

Long, red-tipped fingers drifted to her lips. “I’d say you went above and beyond the call of duty.”

“True. This isn’t my standard welcome-to-the-neighborhood approach.”

Her hand fell to her side. “You know, maybe we shouldn’t go on a real date. After all, we work with each other.”

That thought had already taken up residence in his brain like a pulsing neon sign. Ben would probably skin him alive if he found out he’d already rounded first base with the newest member of Ivy’s team. Was this smart? He couldn’t say for sure one way or the other. But the longer he stood there, staring at Mira’s lips, still plump and moist from his mouth, the more he knew he couldn’t walk away. She’d burrowed under his skin, all right. In a good way, this time. A couple of kisses hadn’t slaked his raging bonfire of desire. They’d stoked it. As long as she didn’t belt him in the head again, nothing would stop him from getting another taste.

“We work next to each other,” he corrected. “The customers will have free rein to shop in both of our stores. But what if we don’t?”

“I don’t understand.”

“We’ll keep it all business when we’re at our stores. That door will stay shut, and you and I won’t walk through it. No fraternizing. No singing along to the other person’s radio. Definitely no flirting.”

That made a saucy smile brighten her eyes. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Sam agreed, but he knew his plan had merit. Both their businesses were too important to risk on one kiss. “Anticipation heightens the payoff. No one has to know. We’ll try one date. Wednesday night. If it doesn’t go well, no harm, no foul.”

“And if it goes well? It’ll be like the Great Wall of China between Lyons Bakery and A Fine Romance?”

His version ran more along the lines of a picket fence made of dominoes. So he could knock it down with one sharp poke. “Something like that. What do you say?”

“Don’t rush me. In fact, in the spirit of exchanging basic first-date information, here’s the first thing you should know about me. I’m very methodical. I like to weigh the pros and cons.”

Sam dug another napkin out of his pocket. “Do you want to make a list?”

“The fact that you offered gets you a check in the pro column.”

“What if I sweeten the pot?” He bridged the distance between them in two long strides, and captured her mouth once more. Hard and fast, he laid claim to it, making sure she could feel how much he wanted her to say yes.

Panting, she broke away. “The funny thing about bribery? It’s got a bad rap, but it works. I’ll go out with you, Sam.”

“You won’t regret it.”

“Make sure I don’t.”

That sassiness, dialed back from the sharp-as-glass version she first used on him, made him want to smile and smother her with more kisses. She wasn’t the only one who made lists. And first thing on his would be to wash his lucky shirt.

Chapter Five

Mira pushed open the back door with her butt and dragged the giant box of cut-down boxes into the alley behind the store. It was her third trip of the day. Unpacking inventory was the fun part. Dealing with the shipping boxes, packing peanuts, miles of plastic wrap, bubble wrap and bags that swathed seemingly every item she unwrapped was a tedious workout. She’d need to take a long shower before her date with Sam tonight. And not just to get clean. Mira loved the ritual of getting ready for a date.

Using the good shower gel the same flowery scent as the expensive lotion from Provence (only pulled out on special occasions). Flinging twenty different outfits on the bed until settling on one that made her feel delightfully feminine. Dawdling over hair and makeup while wondering if she’d get a kiss at the front door. Or would he make her wait all night?

This was pointless. She’d spent more of the afternoon daydreaming about the dreamy boy next door than actually working. And there was a strong possibility she’d gotten a crick in her neck from glancing over at the closed connecting door every five minutes. Wondering what Sam was doing on the other side of it. Wondering if his rock-hard forearms covered in dark hair sparkled with a dusting of sugar. Or if his hips swiveled to the radio’s beat. Mira bet he swiveled his hips really well. Yikes. Mira popped her eyelids open, appalled they’d drifted shut mid-reverie, while gripping a box of trash, of all things. Might as well stop kidding herself and call it a day.

“Need some help, lady?” A tall, rail-thin teenager jittered a few steps toward her. He was part of a group clustered by the Dumpster, all shoving cookies in their mouths. Had they scavenged the bakery’s discarded cookies from the Dumpster? She’d seen them a few other days, hanging out back here, always with cheeks full of cookies. Baggy jeans so low they seemed to mock gravity, oversized jackets, hoodies and Cubs caps made up a sort of uniform.

Warning bells rang in her head. She didn’t have a good read on Chicago’s vibe yet, but good kids didn’t hang out in alleys. Were they a gang? Their eyes were hard. Too hard, too knowledgeable for kids that age. They carried themselves with real swagger, not the puffed-up pretense of innocent youth. To her mind, they were far too loud and animated. Maybe because she’d spent the last few months at camp surrounded by just girls? Or because they were strung out on drugs? Oddly territorial, she didn’t like them gorging on Sam’s cookies, even if he had thrown them out.

“I’m fine, thanks.” The circle of boys laughed, elbowing each other. Mira didn’t know what set them off, but she didn’t want to stick around and find out. She’d finish with the trash later. Hurrying inside, she quickly locked the door behind her. It looked like a nice enough neighborhood, and she didn’t have any solid proof the boys were up to no good. But as a single woman alone, Mira didn’t want to take any chances. Getting the security system online zoomed from number fourteen on her to-do list straight to the top.

A loud knock at the front of the store whipped her head around, and her heart leapt into her throat. Was she really going to have to use the crystal vase again to defend herself? Mira inserted
sign
up
for
self
-
defense
class
somewhere into the middle of her to-do list. The vase wasn’t a practical long-term solution, although it was still her best option. On the other hand, would a burglar be so polite as to knock? Mira crept down the hall. From the counter she palmed her cell phone, and hit the speed dial for the police. Her thumb hovered over the send button. Better to be paranoid and prepared than caught off guard.

On the other side of the glass door stood a middle-aged woman clutching a picnic basket. No-nonsense short gray hair—the real kind, not fashionably streaked—contrasted with the high-end St. John knit suit. And a fabulous pair of Prada platform pumps. Mira may have walked away from her parents’ money, but the love of shoes her mother had instilled wasn’t so easy to dismiss. She still eagerly eyeballed the new collections at the start of each season. And her mom loved her enough to throw at least a few pairs of Louboutins into the birthday box that arrived every year, in lieu of her parents actually showing up and spending time with her.

Nerves a little less jangly, Mira put down her phone and eased open the door a crack. “I’m sorry, but we don’t open for a few more weeks. If you’d like to leave me your email address, I’ll be sure to send you information about the grand opening.”

“Goodness, I know you aren’t open yet. That’s why I’m here. I’d like to apply for a job.”

“Really? The sales clerk position?”

“Nope. I’m a cook.” She pointed to her basket. “If you’d indulge me for a few minutes, I brought a resume, of sorts.” When Mira hesitated, the woman put down the basket and rummaged in her purse. “I almost forgot. If there’s one thing my husband’s hammered home to me about the business world, it’s that connections are everything. I don’t mind shamelessly using mine to open the door. After that, I’m confident my food will speak for itself.” She handed Mira a glossy program.

“What’s this?”

“My letter of introduction. Not as professional as I’d like, but it’s remarkably hard to find stationery in the middle of a gala.”

Mira unfolded the program. The splashy purple-and-white cover indicated it was from last night’s Minds Matter gala to benefit Northwestern Hospital’s Brain Tumor Institute. Scribbled in the margin was a single sentence:
Give
her
a
try
! It was signed by Samantha Rhodes, Ivy’s mother. Which made it practically a royal edict. Samantha was a force of nature, not to mention a big mover and shaker in Chicago’s elite social circles. The mystery woman was right. Dropping that name was all it took for Mira to swing open the door and usher her inside.

“Well, if you cook half as well as you network, you’ll be a shoo-in for the job.” There. With a touch of humor, she’d established the blatant name-dropping was acknowledged, but not enough to hand her the job on a silver platter. “I’m Mira Parrish. Welcome to what will soon be A Fine Romance.”

“Helen Warrington.” After setting the basket on the floor, she shook Mira’s hand. “And all I want is a fair shot.” They both sat on the stools by the front counter. Helen crossed her legs and beamed a warm smile.

Mira glanced at her watch, trying to figure out how much behind this would set her pre-date routine. “I’m afraid this will be a brief interview. I need to head out shortly.”

“Do you have a hot date lined up?”

The professional side of Mira was prepared to shake off the question, but surprisingly, a different answer popped out when she opened her mouth. “As a matter of fact, I do.” It must be because they’d agreed to keep it under wraps. Letting the whole gang know just cranked up the expectation level. After one real date, she and Sam would be able to ascertain if this thing was just a crazed spurt of lust-on-the-lake, or something worth pursuing. Then they could share the news. But it had been driving her crazy not to be able to gush to Ivy or Daphne. Part of the fun of anticipation was anticipating with others. So out of the blue, she’d blurted it out to a total stranger.

“Good for you. You’re young and pretty. You should be out breaking hearts left and right.” Helen leaned forward, one elbow on the counter. “Is he a thoroughly gorgeous specimen?”

Mira choked on a laugh. “Why yes, he is. But...it’s complicated.”

“Take it from me, dear. The best ones always are.”

Helen’s congenial openness was very appealing. She’d made a strong always-important first impression. Mira liked her right off the bat. However, she still presented a mystery. The upper-crust clothes didn’t mesh with a burning desire for a job slaving away over a hot stove. Resisting the urge to gush about Sam, Mira grabbed her pad to take notes. “Do you have experience?”

“Yes.” Helen settled her hands in her lap. “I worked in my family’s restaurant down in Champaign growing up. My grandmother switched out my pacifier for a wooden spoon before I was even on solid foods. I loved it. Loved it so much I refused to go away to college, even after I won a scholarship. But then, one fateful day, Dan Warrington walked in the door.”

“Was he gorgeous and complicated?” Mira teased.

“Right on both counts. Pretty soon I had to choose between my love of cooking and my love for Dan. They ran neck and neck for a while, but once he sweetened the deal with burn-up-the-sheets sex, the decision was easy.”

Okay, she didn’t just like this woman. Mira had a full-blown girl crush on Helen. It took a certain fearlessness and self-assurance to mention premarital sex in a job interview. She took a pointed glance at Helen’s left hand, weighted down with what had to be a four-carat diamond. “Let me guess. You lived happily ever after?

With a fond smile, Helen too looked down at her ring. “So far, anyway. I married him, moved to Chicago and had two beautiful babies. And before you ask why I’m boring you with my life story, my point is that I never stopped cooking.”

Although Mira liked her, and the early restaurant experience was a plus, it sounded like she’d taken about a twenty-year break from creating enough food to satisfy throngs of customers. It would require all her delicacy to politely turn down this delightful woman. “While I don’t discount the enormous amount of work it takes to keep a family fed, it is different from the sort of cooking we’ll require here.”

Helen shook her head and held up one hand, palm up, to stop Mira. “Don’t I know it! There’s more to my tale, I promise.”

It would be important to report back to Ivy, and subsequently her mother, that she’d given Helen every opportunity. Mira nodded. “Go on.”

“At first, my addiction to cooking drove all my friends nuts. Dan moves in a very socially aware group, shall we say.”

Oh yes, Mira knew exactly the type. She’d grown up surrounded by people like that. People to whom status was practically a religion. For a while, as a teenager, it had been easy to get sucked into games of social excess. Easy to stop talking to a girl when she wore the wrong brand of shoe to school. Or shun a boy who couldn’t afford tickets to the hottest rock concert of the year. But in college, surrounded by people of so many different social strata, Mira came to her senses. She learned to judge people on who they were, not what they were worth. And most of all, she’d learned that distancing herself from her parents’ wealth made her a better person.

With the demeanor of a stern teacher, Helen brandished her index finger. “Don’t get me wrong—I’ve made some great friends amidst Chicago’s elite. But people who are thoughtful and tell a wicked joke and helped nurse my daughter through chicken pox are often the same people who like to brag about how much they spent on the caterer, and who look down their noses at a batch of homemade cookies.” A smug smirk tightened her lips. “Or at least, they did until they tasted my cookies.”

Mira crossed to the fridge and brought back two bottles of water. She liked where this story was headed. “Did you make them eat their words?”

“Ha! Good one.” Helen took a long sip. After she recapped the bottle, she continued to run her finger around the cap. “I’ll never forget the first Junior League committee meeting I hosted. I talk a good game, but my stomach had about a hundred flocks of butterflies. Even though I’d dithered over the menu for weeks, sent Dan to work laden with some of my test runs for his staff, it is a whole different proposition to serve a score of people rather than the four of us.”

“What did you make? When I think of a committee meeting, I envision pretzels, or maybe a plate of cookies.”

A deep belly laugh rolled out, with the strength of the wake behind an ocean liner. “Well, that’s why
you’re
not interviewing right now to be a cook! I served an authentic high tea, complete with five kinds of sandwiches, scones, pastries, you name it. The women couldn’t rave enough, and begged for the name of my caterer. When I told them I made everything, you could’ve heard a pin drop in that room. I honestly thought they were going to walk out in a huff, insulted to the quick I’d dared to serve them homemade food.”

“Did they?”

“Only one. Ruth Carlin. You know, to this day, she still demurs if I offer her anything. Just purses those thin lips of hers and insists she already ate. Which is weird, since that stick on stilettos looks like she hasn’t eaten in about two decades. I suppose I’d rather have her not eat my food than eat it and regift it to the toilet gods ten minutes later.”

Mira bit the inside of her cheek to keep from bursting into unprofessional giggles. “Sounds like it’s her loss.”

Shrugging through another sip, Helen forged ahead. “The upshot was that I became known as the quirky one who always cooked. And oh boy, did I ever. Of course Noah and Lucy came first. I was a room mother, and a Girl Scout den leader. To my children’s great chagrin, I chaperoned every school event from field trips to dances, and I shouted myself hoarse at swim meets and lacrosse games. Those two are the sunshine in my day.”

Wow. Mira knew her parents loved her. Or at least, they loved the idea of a daughter, someone to carry on the family name. But never once had she seen her mother’s face light up like Helen’s at any of Mira’s accomplishments. The boarding schools they shuttled her between didn’t have room mothers. Her parents hadn’t come to watch any of her speech tournaments, or her misbegotten half year on the track team in junior high. They hadn’t even made it to her high school graduation. It conflicted with the Cannes Film Festival, which was a must-see-and-be-seen week of events. She’d hungered for the kind of love Helen described so effortlessly.

“It doesn’t sound like you had any spare time to cook.”

“Oh, I carved out precious moments here and there. As they got older, it grew easier. I was always in the kitchen, tinkering with recipes, putting my own spin on things or dreaming up new ones. Soon my friends not only accepted my odd habit, but they embraced it. I cooked for committee meetings, for birthday parties, first communions, bridal showers, you name it. I even helped out my nephew with an engagement picnic.”