California Dreaming: Four Contemporary Romances (91 page)

Oh, boy.

“Now what are
you
thinking?” she asked.

“How much I like you. You’ve got a fun spirit.”

Not the answer she expected. Or wanted.

“Well, I suppose that’s okay.” She wagged her finger in mock seriousness. “Just make sure like doesn’t turn into something else. You’ll ruin your reputation as a man with a plan that doesn’t include a relationship.”
And probably break my heart.

He laughed. “I’m never going to live that down, am I?”

She shook her head and grinned at him. “It does let me know where I stand, though.”

“So I guess we’re safe to take a walk on the beach in the moonlight after dinner.”

The lump in her stomach made it hard to swallow. “Um. Sure. No problem.”

Moonlight beaches led to kisses. And kisses, well… No matter how good-looking James was, or how much she liked him, he was not a white picket fence, Little League kind of guy. He’d made that perfectly clear. She’d better get a hold of herself and remember this was only a casual dinner.

He sighed as he finished the last bite of his dish. “Do you think you could replicate this?” he asked. “I think the production crew would go nuts for it.”

She chuckled. “Not the actors?”

He shook his head. “They’re always on a diet. Haven’t you noticed?”

“Yeah, Lola’s like that.”

The waiter suddenly appeared and placed their coffee, accoutrements, and an oval ramekin of crème brûlée in front of them.

“What’s your next job?” she asked once the man departed.

“I’m in negotiations with a producer right now to be the location manager for a film shooting in Yosemite in September. It would be my first shot at being a full location manager.” He gestured for her to take a spoonful of the creamy dessert. “If I can do that successfully for a few years, I can build up enough capital and goodwill to become an assistant producer.”

“Sounds like a good next step.” She dipped her spoon into the yellow custard and slowly slipped the mouthful between her lips, her eyes never leaving his face.

She knew she shouldn’t be leading him on, but he was irresistible in his seriousness.

He stared at her mouth.

She licked her lips.

He grimaced.

“Your check.” The waiter plunked the folder on the table. “I’ll take it whenever you’re ready.”

“Wait a second.” James yanked his wallet from his back pants pocket, pulled out a credit card, and handed it to the waiter.

”How soon will you know about Yosemite?” she asked.

“Should be in the next few weeks.”

The waiter returned with the receipt.

James quickly signed it and pocketed his card. “Shall we go?”

“Sounds good.”

• • •

They left the restaurant and strolled across the parking lot to the break in the seawall. Mandy slipped her shoes off, and James followed suit before walking onto the sand.

The lowering sun glinted on the breakers leisurely rolling toward the beach. A line of pelicans, with prehistoric looking shadows, skimmed the briny water’s curves while sandpipers ran to and fro, avoiding wet feet while searching for the next succulent bite.

James held out a hand.

She stilled for a moment, but took it.

They continued to the dark band of wet sand in silence as the sun dipped to the water, coloring the waves with the reds, oranges, and yellows of fire.

He stopped and turned them toward the sunset.

Her body sizzled as if it were the circled orb being extinguished in the salt sea. She wanted him to kiss her, to taste his lips on hers.

She turned to face him just as he did the same.

He lowered his mouth to hers and explored the curves of her lips with his tongue.

In spite of any misgivings, she responded to his kiss, the rhythms of the pounding waves replicating in the heated urgency of her body. She opened her mouth to taste more of him, the sweetness of the crème brûlée they’d shared combined with the tang of the salt air spicing his masculine zest.

He pulled her close to him; her body fit his like a perfectly tailored silk shirt. He groaned and hardened against her, redoubling his assault on her mouth.

She ran her hands over the hard planes of his back. Her breath came quickly as her energy matched the hiss and thud of the waves as they hit the shore. She went on the attack, claiming his mouth as he’d taken hers.

He shifted his hand to her waist and slipped it under the silky tee she wore.

She gasped.

With the sound he pulled back, breaking their connection.

“Why did you stop?” she moaned.

“We agreed. Remember? No strings attached to dinner.”

“What if I change my mind? You said I could change my mind.”

He shook his head. “Not fair to you. You know I don’t want anything permanent.”

“Not according to plan.” Her throat tightened.

He put his hand on her arm, but she shook him off.

“Mandy, try to understand.”

“Understand what? That you use women to satisfy your needs and then move on? I get that. Aren’t I good enough to be one of those women?”

He took her arms. “You’re too good to be one of those women. I’d feel like a heel if I used you like that. And so would you.”

He was right. Deep down in her soul he knew what he said was true. She’d been used enough in her lifetime. He was giving her something few men ever had before—respect.

Her body burned with desire. How could he pick this time to be noble?

She should take the high road. Be courteous and thank him for the nice dinner, like Lola had taught her, but her stomach roiled with rejection.

“Forget it.” She turned and walked back to the parking lot.

Mandy avoided James as much as she could over the next week. On the set tension ran high because scenes weren’t going well. George Stubbins became more of a jerk on a daily basis.

Home life wasn’t much better. Avoiding James took a great deal of planning. Sarah became testier with each increasing pound. She hounded Mandy about her date with James.

Mandy refused to tell her best friend anything. The situation had been too mortifying. She wasn’t good enough for a simple fling? A fling she’d convinced herself she wanted?

The only thing that kept Mandy going was the job. Sally engaged her by teaching her subtle tricks of the trade. Even when Mandy messed up, Sally encouraged her.

The woman was a saint.

By the time George Stubbins decided to throw his pot belly around one morning, however, Mandy had run out of patience.

“There’s no breakfast,” George complained.

“You’re late,” Mandy replied.

“Sally doesn’t cook enough. She thinks all the actors are dieting. Well I’m not. I need food to do this job.”

Mandy looked pointedly at George’s girth, the size of which proved his non-dieting statement. “Sally’s the best in the business. She cooks plenty.”

“Don’t get uppity with me,” he said.

“Who me? I wouldn’t dream of it.”

He changed his tactic. He put a hand on her arm and gave her what she was sure he imagined was his most charming smile. “C’mon now. I’m sure you can rustle up something for your friend here. You’re a good cook.” He leaned in closer, his breath smelling of the coffee he’d swilled moments before. “A good looking cook, too.”

“Take your hand off me.”

After rubbing his thumb on her arm, he complied.

She gestured to a bagel in the middle of the platter without a cream cheese or butter packet in sight. “That’s what’s left. If you’re still hungry, I’m sure you can find something at the Whale City Bakery.” She turned away.

“You’re just like your mother,” he said.

Spinning back, she glared at him. “You don’t know Lola.”

He laughed, but there was no mirth in it. “Yes, I do. Next time you talk to her, ask her.” He took a step closer to Mandy. “I knew her quite well.” He smirked at her, then ambled toward the lonely bagel.

Mandy watched him go, a pitcher trembling in her hand.

“Is everything okay?” James walked up behind her. “He’s not bothering you, is he?”

“No. No. Nothing I can’t handle.” She shifted to face James, her heart taking a tumble as she did so. No matter what she told herself about how wrong he was for her, her emotions were
not
listening.

A thought occurred to her. “Did you tell George about Lola Parker?”

James shook his head. “That’s your private matter. I don’t repeat things said in confidence. Why?”

“He mentioned he knew her.”

“He’s about the right age to have met her when she was out here.”

“How do you know that?”

His cheeks reddened. “Did the math.”

“Oh. Okay. See you.”

As she walked back to the cook trailer, the ache in her throat intensified. James was a decent man, unlike any of the losers Lola had dragged home. He was looking out for her. Why couldn’t she be nice to him?

Sally was already hard at work with prep for lunch. She looked up at Mandy, her knife pausing mid-dice. “You okay? Stubbins giving you a hard time?”

Mandy shrugged and began to wash dishes. The mundane task soothed her spirit. She could concentrate on cleanliness instead of worrying about Godliness.

Over the whoosh of the water she said, “He was being a jerk, complaining there wasn’t enough to eat. I told him if he got there on time, he’d have plenty.” She pulled the eggy frying pan from the hot suds. “Did you say anything to him about my mother being Lola Parker?”

“No. I would never betray a confidence.” Sally put the knife down and studied Mandy. “You do look like her, you know. And you’ve got the same last name.”

“I went back to Lola’s name after Dana divorced her.” Stainless steel emerged as she scrubbed the pan.

“He’s the right age to have known her.”

“That’s what James said.”

“What’s with you and James anyway?”

“Nothing.”

Sally went back to dicing. “I see.”

For the next few minutes they worked together in silence, moving in steps they’d mutually choreographed over the time they’d spent together. Gradually, the tenseness left Mandy’s body.

“He implied he’d known Lola quite well. George, that is,” Mandy said as she dried the last of the pots.

Sally was quiet. Then she said, “George thinks he’s a ladies’ man, always has. I wouldn’t put much stock in what he says. He was trying to get your goat.”

Something in her voice was off, but Sally was probably right. The only one who was truly going to be able to answer the question was Lola, but why did it matter? Like James, Stubbins would be out of her life in a few days.

• • •

By the time James found Mandy at her car the following Sunday, Sally had already pulled the trailer down the road, heading south to LA. The older woman had given her a hug, a cluck under the chin, and told her to behave herself before settling herself in the driver’s seat.

Energy ebbed from the site and Mandy’s body. She knew she had to face James one more time. Trying to keep things professionally distant, Mandy held out her hand when he approached her.

He took it, but then used it to pull her into a quick embrace. “Thanks for being a good team member, Mandy.” He released her. “I’m sorry things got a little complicated there. My fault.”

Still the gentleman.

“’Sokay. Water under the bridge.” The lie was bitter on her tongue. The memory of his lips on hers haunted her dreams. She unlocked her car door and opened it. “Thanks for the opportunity. I really enjoyed it.”

He put his hand on the top of the door. “I meant what I said the other day. You’d be a great movie caterer. Sally thinks you’re terrific. You should really think about it.”

She shook her head. “Not for me. Too many egos.”

Too easy to become a replica of her mother.

Too many chances to get my heart broken.

She shook off the melancholy and pasted a smile on her face. “Thanks again, James. Good luck with your next project.” She slid onto the driver’s side seat and looked expectantly at James, who still held onto her door.

Their eyes held for a moment, and the wraiths of what-might-have-beens floated around them. Then James gently closed her door, waved good-bye, turned, and walked toward his own vehicle.

Sadness rode gunshot with her as she pulled onto the narrow road leading to Highway 1 South.

• • •

Within a week, Mandy slipped back into her old routines: waitressing at the Costanoa Grill and prepping breakfasts at the inn.

Life was dull, and the thin knife of depression slipped between her ribs.

When Sarah’s half-sister Alicia arrived at the inn for one of her periodic visits, Mandy leapt on the chance to make some extra cookies to go with the afternoon tea. Working with Sally had perfected her ability to work fast.

“These are wonderful, Mandy.” Alicia was almost back to her pre-pregnancy weight, her chunky but happy baby boy Luis bouncing on her knee. “Do you miss your catering job?”

Sarah lowered herself into a kitchen chair. “I’ll say. She’s been Miss Cranky since the movie crew departed.”

“Have not,” Mandy snapped at her.

Alicia chuckled. “I see what you mean.”

“Sorry.” Mandy took another batch of cookies from the oven, her contrition warming her cheeks as effectively as the heat from the oven.

“Not only that,” Sarah confided in Alicia. “I think she liked the location manager.”

“Assistant location manager,” Mandy pointed out with her spatula. “And I don’t like him.”

“What was wrong with him?” Alicia asked.

“He lives in Hollywood,” Mandy said, tiring of this subject. She’d liked it better when the sisters were estranged.

“So?” Alicia asked.

“It doesn’t make any sense to me either,” Sarah said. “But it’s the only answer she’ll give. He seemed nice enough.” She rubbed her belly. “He stayed here for a few weeks, and he was always courteous.”

“Don’t you ladies need to eat more cookies? Keep your strength up?”

Hunter walked into the kitchen. “If they don’t need them, I certainly do.” After stuffing a few cookies into his mouth, he clucked at the baby. “May I?”

Alicia nodded, and Hunter took the baby from her.