Flavor Of The Month (Kiss & Tell Book 2) (16 page)

“A couple of the guests are asking for you.”

Part of owning a successful restaurant was making the rounds, making the diners feel that they weren’t merely customers but a part of the family. And over the years Ben had made an art out of doing just that. But for the past few days, he’d holed himself up in his office and told Lance to buzz off.

Why wouldn’t Reilly talk to him? Was it because of the photos? Sure, even he’d admit to being shocked at the first photo. He’d barely recognized her with the extra weight. And he’d taken some ribbing from the guys in the kitchen. But, hell, he didn’t care if she weighed a hundred or five hundred. He loved her, damn it.

And sleeping with those granny panties rather than the real thing was really starting to grate on his nerves.

“Your publicist is one of them,” Lance said, appearing to stop short of snapping his fingers in front of Ben’s face.

“Fine. Tell him I’ll be out in a minute.”

Lance lingered a little longer, then sighed and left the room, leaving the door open after him.

He really needed to snap out of this. Needed to accept that he had done everything he could possibly do short of camping out on Reilly’s sister’s doorstep—and he would have done that, as well, if he hadn’t been convinced that the woman would call the police on him. Needed to swallow the fact that he had absolutely no control over the situation anymore. If Reilly wanted to contact him, she knew where he was.

But Ben Kane had never been one to sit back and let things happen. He was a mover and shaker. He was a doer. And not doing anything about something that was so important to him was driving him certifiably crazy.

“That’s it,” he said, pushing from the chair.

Only he wasn’t going out to shoot the breeze with his guests. Instead he was going to create a breeze of his own by going over to Reilly’s sister’s. If Reilly didn’t want to see him anymore, then she was going to have to tell him to his face, damn it.

He snatched his jacket from the back of the chair, shrugged into it, then nearly bowled over Lance who was standing just outside the door.

“I don’t know when I’ll be back,” he barked, then headed through the suddenly silent kitchen and out the back door.

“A
RE YOU SURE
you should be eating that?”

Reilly bit into the end of the Snickers bar then stared defiantly at Mallory where she sat next to Layla in the front seat of her car. The twosome had stopped by Debbie’s a couple of hours ago in the hopes of cheering Reilly up by taking her shopping. Tomorrow was Thanksgiving, they’d said, and she needed something to wear to her parents’ house besides one of her brother-in-law’s old sweat suits. Having seen more of the inside of Efi’s room than she cared to admit, Reilly had reluctantly agreed to go on the outing.

And had heard nothing but “Are you sure you should buy that?” “Are you sure that’s what you want to do?” “Are you sure your name is Reilly?” until the prospect of jumping out of Layla’s car while it was moving was becoming more than a little appealing.

“Why are you all treating me like a child?” Reilly snarled, wiping chocolate from the side of her mouth with the edge of the navy blue sweatshirt she had on.

Mallory stared at Layla.

“What?” Reilly all but barked.

Layla’s gaze snapped to hers in the rearview mirror. “Did you ever stop to think that it’s because you’re acting like a child, Rei?”

She blinked. Wounding comments were much more Mallory’s forte. So when the words came out of Layla’s tactful mouth, they stung twice as badly.

And made Reilly have second thoughts about her own behavior.

“Ever since you met Ben, you’ve been acting like ten kinds of fool,” Mallory chipped in.

Reilly rolled her eyes, but she did wrap up the rest of the uneaten candy bar and stick it into her pants pocket.

“And since the fire, it’s only gotten worse,” Layla agreed.

“Are you taking me home now?” she grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest. “Because I really don’t know how much more of this cheering up I can take.”

“Come on, Reilly,” Mallory said, shifting so she could face her better. “Since the fire you’ve holed yourself up at your sister’s. You spend most of your time in bed, eat half the contents of the refrigerator in the middle of the night, and snap at everybody else when you do finally make a public appearance.”

“Debbie’s got a big mouth.”

“Yeah, well, it sounds like it runs in the family,” Mallory said. She turned back around in the seat and threw her hands up in the air. “Jesus, Rei, you used to be one of the most independent women I knew. You not only started your own business, you immediately carved out a niche in the industry for yourself and were operating in the black before you reached the six-month point. Considering that more than half of new businesses tank within the first year, that’s really saying something.”

Reilly made a face and stared out the window at the passing L.A. lights. “What’s it say now that that same business has burned to the ground, the insurance company won’t pay because the police think I torched my own shop and I have a mountain of debt I don’t know how I’m going to repay? Hmm…I wonder where that puts me on the business scale, Mall. In the bottom five percent?”

Layla sighed heavily. “Fatalistic. That’s one word I would never have associated with you before all this, Reilly. I suppose all of us are entitled from time to time to be a little negative, especially in light of all that’s happened to you lately, but…well, God, even I’m getting tired of the black cloud that seems to follow you around.”

That hurt more than the other comments combined. Solely because Reilly was getting a little sick of the rain herself.

“Your sister says that you used to be like that when you were a teen,” Mallory added.

Reilly flopped back against the seat and closed her eyes. “Yes, well, that’s better than being a slut.”

There was silence where she heard nothing but the rolling of the tires over the asphalt, then laughter erupted in the front seat. Reilly cracked her eyelids open to watch her friends enjoy her last comment. The change in climate seemed to flip a switch inside her.

She swallowed hard and said, “I don’t know. Maybe you’re right. Maybe I haven’t been…myself lately.” Or, rather, maybe she had been more the self she had left behind nine years ago.

Chubby Chuddy meet the New Reilly.

She settled into the seat, absently watching the city where she’d grown up, the city she knew like the back of her hand, roll by. Was it even remotely possible that she’d never really stopped being Chubby Chuddy? Sure, she may have shed the weight, but had she ever shed the boatload of complexes that had gone along with it? Didn’t that explain why she’d always dressed as though she still carried extra weight? She was pretty certain her thoughts now had nothing to do with the pictures that were being run in nearly every paper in L.A. Instead, her…relationship with Ben, her success at the shop, then the fire had tapped into the old Reilly. While everything was running smoothly, she’d been all right. But the instant conflict and chaos entered her life, all her insecurities bubbled to the surface, crippling her emotionally and physically. For God’s sake, she’d probably put on at least five pounds in the past week with her old eating habits.

She felt around for the half-eaten candy bar in her pocket then tossed it in the small bag in the car used for garbage. Mallory smiled at her, and Layla’s expression was one of approval in the rearview mirror.

Reilly resisted the urge to react defensively. To fall back on that old standard of her against the world. No, while she might not agree with everything her friends and family had said and done lately, they were not the enemy.

She cleared her throat. “Can we swing by the shop? I haven’t been back since the first night.”

Silence, then Layla asked, “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

Reilly frowned at her. “First you tell me I’m hiding, and now that I want to face the world, you tell me it might be too soon. Make up your minds, already.” She took a deep breath, battling back the words swirling in her head. “Swing by the shop. I need to see it. I need it to help me move on.”

Mallory grinned at her.

“What?” Reilly asked, this time in exasperation.

Her friend shook her dark head. “Nothing. I was just going to say, ‘Welcome back, Reilly.”’

M
AYBE
L
AYLA
and Mallory were right. She hadn’t been ready to see this yet.

Layla had pulled her car up across the street from where Sugar ’n’ Spice once stood. Upon seeing the razed site, Reilly had gotten out of the car and froze, staring at the empty lot that had once held all her hopes and dreams.

“It’s a matter of course that they tear down destroyed structures within twenty-four hours after a serious fire,” Layla said quietly next to her. “You know, to prevent the fire from reigniting.”

“And for safety reasons,” Mallory added, coming to stand on her other side.

Reilly started to walk toward the void. Mallory caught her arm as a car sped by, honking its horn at her.

Reilly blinked, checked for traffic and crossed.

Nothing. Nothing remained of what had been her home and her business. Not a single doorknob or metal tray. Not a part of her front sign. No evidence that a person had lived there only the week before. She knelt down and sifted her hands through the black dirt there, the smell of smoke still permeating the air, though the building the fire had claimed was long gone.

“You’ll rebuild,” Layla said.

“Yes,” Mallory agreed. “Make it better than ever.”

Reilly looked at them absently. “I don’t know if I want to.” She swallowed hard. “I mean, my niece almost died in this spot. I don’t know if I want to stay in a place where something so horrible happened.”

A couple of cars passed on the street behind them. “Reilly!”

The sound of a male voice made her heart skip a beat. Ben!

She turned toward the street, but instead of finding Ben’s handsome frame striding toward her, she watched Johnnie Thunder cross the street with his ever-present army jacket and stringy hair.

“Hi, Johnnie,” she said quietly, not feeling much up to small talk just then.

“Hey, man, I just wanted to tell you how, you know, sorry I am that this happened.”

She nodded. “Thanks.”

“I mean, one minute something’s there, the next—poof! it’s gone.”

“Don’t forget that whoever did this thought Reilly was inside,” Mallory said.

Reilly stared at her friend, having completely forgotten that aspect of the situation. She shivered, though the night was warm. Had someone tried to kill her? As far-fetched as the possibility seemed, it was still a possibility. What had the police said when she’d come home to find flames licking over the building? That a neighbor had reported seeing her inside? Which neighbor?

“Were you home the night this happened, Johnnie?” she asked, scanning his homely face.

He nodded. “Oh, yeah. I watched the whole thing from my window over there.”

“Did you see who did it?” Mallory asked, coming to stand closer.

Johnnie blinked at her. “No.”

There was a loud meow from the alley behind the empty lot. Reilly whipped around. “Cat?” she whispered, calling him the first of the many names he’d been given.

The battle-scarred old black cat practically ran to her as she crouched down to gather him up into her arms.

“Oh, baby! Where have you been? I’ve been so worried about you.” She scratched him behind the ears, absorbing his vibrating purr. She’d been afraid to think about what had happened to the old Tom. Couldn’t add his possible awful fate to the load she’d already been carrying. But now that she held him in her arms, her relief was so complete she was dizzy with it. “Oh, Efi’s going to be so happy to see you.” She cuddled him to her cheek. “Of course, my sister’s going to have a cow, but she’ll just have to deal until I get my feet back under me and find a place for us.”

She turned around, finding Johnnie looking awkward. “I guess I’ll be going then.”

She smiled at him. “Thanks, Johnnie. You know, for coming over to say hi.”

He nodded, then turned and made his way back across the street.

Mallory frowned at the cat when he tried to nudge her hand for a pat. “That guy has always given me the creeps.”

“Johnnie?” Reilly said. “He’s one of my regulars. Well, he used to be one of my regulars. Some kind of Internet geek. Goes by the name of Johnnie Thunder. Not a bad guy once you get to know him.”

Mallory looked at her. “And do you? Know him, I mean?”

“What are you trying to say, Mall?” Layla asked, petting the cat.

“I’m just trying to say he makes my skin crawl, that’s all. The way he used to stare at you at the shop…it wasn’t normal.”

Reilly laughed. “Johnnie never stared at me.”

Layla and Mallory shared a glance. “Yes, he did. All the time,” Layla concurred.

There was a heartbeat of silence.

“Naw,” Reilly said. “The guy’s as harmless as a flea, isn’t he, Cinder?”

The black feline seemed to give her an exasperated look.

“You forget, fleas bite,” Mallory said.

“Cinder?” Layla said.

Reilly nodded. “Yes. I think that’s what I’ll call him. Cinder. You know, because of the fire. And it could also be short for Cindercat. You know, like—”

“Cinderella,” Mallory finished then groaned. “Are we ready to get out of here?” she asked. “This whole thing is really starting to feel weird.”

Reilly glanced to see Mallory gazing at the building across the street. “Yeah, let’s go.”

B
EN EXPECTED
the cops to turn down the street any moment. He’d been sitting outside Reilly’s sister’s house for the past hour, having driven around the block then parked after Debbie had told him Reilly wasn’t there and she didn’t know when she’d be back. He hadn’t bought it, of course. He knew Reilly was in there somewhere, hiding from him.

The question was why.

And it was a question that had haunted him nonstop ever since the night of the fire. Not seeing her wasn’t an option in his book. He’d barely slept. And he had to remind himself to eat. The thought of never seeing Reilly again…

He swallowed thickly, not about to go down that ugly road.

He shifted in the soft leather seat, thinking that while the BMW had been built with comfort in mind, long-term sitting probably wasn’t what the manufacturer had designed it for.

The passenger’s side door opened, startling him into sitting upright. He watched as a teenaged girl with short hair climbed in and closed it after herself.

“Mom’s an inch away from either calling the cops or sending Dad out after you, you know.”

Another of Reilly’s nieces? “And you would be?”

“Efi.”

Ben extended his hand. “Nice to meet you, Efi. I’m Ben.”

She took his hand and gave it a firm shake. “I know who you are. You’re all Mom and Grandma ever talk about.”

Mom and Grandma. Not Reilly.

“Where’s your aunt, Efi?”

She shrugged slender shoulders. “I don’t know. She left with her friends a couple of hours ago.”

Ben sat back. So Debbie hadn’t been lying. Reilly truly wasn’t there.

“You know, you got Aunt Rei into all kinds of trouble a couple of weeks ago.”

Ben grimaced. “I know. I apologized for it.” He ran his hand through his hair, unsure how to deal with the teen. “How’s your aunt doing?”

Another shrug. “Mom says she’s doing as well as can be expected. But I think she’s in bad shape.”

“How so?”

“I don’t know. Everything. She sleeps all day, then is up at night. She doesn’t talk much and she looks awful.”

Ben grinned. He couldn’t imagine Reilly ever looking awful.

“I don’t even know if she’s showering.”

Okay. Maybe she could look awful. “Have you asked her why?”

Efi looked down at her lap. “I can’t really talk to her. She thinks it’s all her fault that I almost died in the fire.”

So this was the girl the papers had reported had been in Reilly’s apartment at the time of the blaze.

“And is it her fault?” he asked quietly.

“No! Of course not.” She rolled her eyes as if he was as thick as plywood. “But that doesn’t stop Mom from blaming her. Or her from blaming herself.” She grimaced. “Then there are the stupid police who think she did it. And the insurance company that refuses to pay on the policy until the police wrap up their investigation.”

Ben absently rubbed his chin. He should be hearing all this directly from Reilly. But since she wasn’t taking his calls, Efi was a good secondary source. She appeared to be the only one without an agenda. Well, one that mattered to anyone over the age of eighteen anyway.

He’d read some of what Reilly’s niece was telling him in the papers. But he hadn’t been able to connect the dots until the teenager had climbed into his car.

“Then there’s the whole fat thing.”

Ben blinked at her. “What?”

Efi fixed her dark eyes on him. “You know. The fat thing. All those fat pictures the papers keep running of her.” She shook her head. “I’d die if anyone showed pictures of me looking like that.”

“Why?”

She blinked, appearing to try to follow the reason for his question. “Why? Because Aunt Reilly used to be fat, that’s why. And now she’s not.”

“And that’s important because…”

She sighed gustily. “What are you? Dense? That’s important because being fat in L.A. is social suicide.”

“Oh? I happen to think your aunt was pretty even with a few extra pounds.”

Efi stared at him for the longest time. He couldn’t really make out her expression in the dark, but he could see that she was trying to pigeonhole him. “Are you serious?” she finally asked.

“As a priest on Sunday.”

“God, that’s serious.”

He nodded. “I love your aunt, no matter what she looked or looks like.”

Efi tilted her head. “My dad says the same thing about my mom.”

“Smart man, your dad.” He looked toward the house across the street and three doors up. “Speaking of your dad, I think I’d better be going.”

Efi reached for the door handle then hesitated. “Actually, you’re in luck. Aunt Reilly’s friend’s car just pulled up into the driveway.”

Ben looked in that direction. He could make out three figures in the four-door sedan. And his throat tightened when he saw Reilly climb out of the back then take several shopping bags out of the trunk.

Then it struck him. Approaching her now wouldn’t fix anything. Continuing to call her wouldn’t tear down the barrier that loomed between them. Instead, he had to formulate a plan.

He absently rubbed his chin. “Even more reason to leave,” he said quietly.

Efi shook her head. “You adults don’t make any sense, you know?”

Ben chuckled then lightly touched her arm. “Don’t tell your aunt you saw me, okay?”

“Why?”

“Because she’ll wonder why I didn’t say hello if you do.”

“That’s something I’m wondering.” She climbed from the car and closed the door.

Ben watched her go then looked at his watch. He’d give the teenager five minutes before she burst with the news that she had. He started his car and backed up into a neighbor’s drive before driving off in the opposite direction. It appeared he had a few things to do before seeing Reilly again. And if he was certain of one thing, it was that he would be seeing Reilly…

T
HREE DAYS LATER
Reilly was cooking up a storm in her sister’s kitchen. While her wardrobe hadn’t improved much—it would take her time to replace everything and right now she was concentrating on dressier apparel—her demeanor had improved immensely. The insurance company had had a mysterious change of heart and was cooperating with her even if the police weren’t and she was going to get her first emergency operating check on Monday. She’d been so relieved to hear the news she’d immediately started shopping for new locales and an apartment. She’d also taken over Debbie’s kitchen.

Yes, she was definitely making a comeback.

Well, except when it came to Ben Kane.

She wildly stirred the thickening sauce on the stove to keep it from curdling. Since Efi had told her she’d seen him two nights ago, and that he’d left without saying hello, her mind had been working overtime trying to figure out what had happened.

“He realized you weren’t for him, you one-time fat cow,” she told herself.

She grimaced and removed the pan from the burner. While she suspected part of that might be the case, she also had to wonder about Ben’s strange comments to Efi. She’d told her that he’d said he didn’t care if she’d been fat or was fat, that he loved her just the way she was.

“That’s why he took off like a bat out of hell once he caught a glimpse of me again,” she muttered under her breath, chasing away any joy that had warmed her heart at the original thought.

She shook her head and slowly stirred egg yolks into the sauce along with butter then returned the mixture to the burner.

Her sister came in the back door carrying three grocery bags chock-full of the ingredients Reilly had sent her out to get. “It’s a good thing I don’t like to cook or I’d never fit all the groceries in the kitchen,” Debbie said, awkwardly unloading the bags onto the table and nearly tripping over Cinder, who, it appeared, was now finally named. Efi had not only taken to the name, Reilly suspected she was going to be minus one cat when she moved into a new place.

“It’s not that you don’t like to cook—it’s that you can’t cook,” Reilly corrected her.

Debbie waved her hand. “Same difference. I think after Thanksgiving everyone’s glad to have you back, Rei.” She moved and nearly tripped over Cinder again. “I hate that cat.”

“You don’t hate the cat.”

Thanksgiving at her parents’ house had always been a trial in good manners. Before she’d taken over the cooking duties years ago, her mother had always produced an overcooked and dried-out turkey, over salted boxed stuffing, and inedible secondary plates that left everyone grabbing for the bread and mayonnaise jar. The holiday two days before would have been a flashback to Thanksgiving hell if Reilly hadn’t stepped in, sliced the turkey, whipped up two kinds of gravy to smother the meat with, made an extra-large helping of creamy garlic mashed potatoes and ladled melted cheddar cheese all over the overcooked broccoli. She’d smiled when the bread had largely gone untouched, although some used it to mop up the gravy. Every last bit of the food had disappeared, and everyone had been up for the two pumpkin pies she’d baked from scratch that morning right here in her sister’s kitchen.