Sizzling (6 page)

CHAPTER
FIVE

LORI ARRIVED back at Gloria's house shortly before two in the
afternoon. She walked inside only to find Reid waiting for her.
Her
first thought was to turn around and hide in her car. She felt
self-conscious about both their last conversation where she'd claimed
she didn't want him— a big fat lie if ever there was one—
and the fact that she wasn't wearing scrubs. Jeans and a sweater
might be totally casual, but there was also the chance that he might
interpret them as a pitiful attempt to attract him.
Or not,
she thought honestly. Chances were Reid never thought of her at all.
He was too busy posing for porn.
She briefly closed her eyes.
No. That wasn't fair. Her stupid crush wasn't his fault. Maybe she
should rethink the whole self-help book issue. It was more than
obvious she needed something to get her back to her normal self. Her
last trip to Seattle Chocolate, while delicious, hadn't totally cured
her.
"You were gone," Reid said as she tucked her
purse on an empty shelf in the massive and mostly unused
pantry.
"Yes, I was and now I'm back."
She
straightened and stared at him. Why did he have to look so good? Why
couldn't he be ugly or even normal-looking? Why did his eyes make her
want to get lost in whatever he was saying and why did his mouth make
her long for some sexual acts that might still be illegal in the more
conservative red states?
She tried to push past him. When he
didn't move, she said, "I have to check on Gloria."
"I
just did. She's asleep. I want to talk to you."
Panic
seized her. This was not a conversation she wanted to have.
"I'm
busy. Let's reschedule."
He raised his eyebrows. "Busy
doing what?"
"Stuff. Important stuff." She
groaned silently. Talk about pathetically lame.
She couldn't
handle him today. Not when she was still fighting the embarrassment
of their last encounter and she was feeling emotionally vulnerable
because of what was going on with Madeline.
Just thinking
about her sister drained the last of the fight out of her. Her
shoulders slumped and she stared at Reid.
"Fine. What do
you want to talk about?"
"You can't just give in
like that," he said. "It's not right."
"You're
complaining because I let you win? You might want to rethink your
priorities."
"Something's wrong," he said.
"What is it?"
She turned away. "Nothing."
"I
know enough about women to know that really means there's something
but I'm going to have to work to get at it." He grabbed her arm.
"Tell me."
She didn't plan to tell him anything.
That was the hell of her situation. There was no one to talk to.
Certainly not Madeline, who had enough to deal with herself, and not
their mother who was a pretty useless kind of person.
She
hated that she was tempted. Even more she hated that despite
everything, she was hyper-aware of his fingers on her arm. Even
through her sweater, she felt heat and need and a whole list of other
desires that would go seriously unfulfilled.
"Go away,"
she said, able to appreciate that she was starting to sound like
Gloria.
"Maybe I can help."
"Like you've
helped all those kids who wrote you?" she asked, twisting free
and glaring at him. "I don't think so. But, hey, if you're so
big on knowing, here's the thing. My sister's dying. Okay? Are you
happy now that you're well informed? She has a bad case of Hepatitis
C she got from a transfusion years ago. A liver transplant could save
her, but she has a rare blood type so the odds aren't good. So I'm
thinking you're not going to be much help at all unless you happen to
be AB negative and want to give up your liver to a really good
cause."
She started out of the kitchen, but before she'd
gone more than a few feet, she was swamped with feelings. Maybe Reid
was a jerk, but he'd never been jerky directly to her. She had no
right to lash out at him. In his own shallow way, he probably
had
been trying to help.
She glanced back at him, taking in the
stunned expression darkening his eyes.
"I'm sorry,"
she said. "I shouldn't have said that. The doctor didn't have
good news and that kind of pushed me over the edge."
Then
she shocked herself and probably him by bursting into tears.
Even
as the tears poured down her face, she struggled for control. She
didn't cry— not ever. It wasn't allowed. She was practical and
logical and take-charge. She didn't allow weakness in herself and she
didn't respect it in other people.
But she couldn't seem to
stop crying.
Suddenly Reid was there in front of her. He
pulled her close, wrapped his arms around her.
As she couldn't
seem to stop crying, she let herself lean on him for a few minutes.
She let herself be comforted and held.
He was tall and strong,
she thought as she held on to him. For once her thoughts where he was
concerned weren't about sex. She had the oddest sense that he could
be someone she could trust. Which was totally insane. He was as
stable as quicksand.
Still, being held felt really nice. She
gave in to weakness until the tears dried up, then she sniffed, took
a step back and wiped her face on her sleeve.
"Sorry,"
she said, staring at the hardwood floor. It was really shiny. Maybe
she should put new floors in her place.
"What happened at
the doctor's appointment?" he asked quietly.
She risked
looking at him and saw only sympathy in his eyes. She
shrugged.
"I've known since the diagnosis that it wasn't
going to be good. I mean, I'm a nurse. I can figure out the steps.
But I guess it wasn't real to me before. I guess I thought nothing
bad could happen to my sister. Until this, she's lived a pretty
perfect life."
She sucked in a breath.
"Her
doctor talked about how long she had and how we needed to think about
hospice care. That really got to me. Talking about the end."
Reid
reached out and took her hand in his. "What's the time
frame?"
"About a year. She moved in with me a few
months ago. She's starting to have bad days. She's working part-time,
but that won't last long. I took this job because the hours allow me
to spend more time with her and the money is great. I'm saving as
much as I can so I can take off the last couple of months to be with
her."
She squeezed his hand and fought tears. "She
wanted to talk about that today. On the drive home, she said I
shouldn't put my life on hold for her. That she was fine going into a
hospice. But I don't want that for her. I can take care of her."
She
had to be there for Madeline.
"Is a liver transplant the
only way to save her?" he asked.
She nodded. "Unless
they find a miracle cure and that's not likely to happen in time.
I've been tested and I'm not a match."
He frowned. "You
can't give up your liver."
Despite the pain and threat of
tears, she smiled. "They use living donors now. They would take
a piece of my liver. But it's a nonissue. I can't. My mom could
except she drank so much for years that there isn't much of her liver
left."
Lori released his hand and took a step back. "It's
just like Madeline to have a weird blood type. She's totally perfect
in every other way. Why can't she be O positive like the majority of
the population?"
It was easier to joke than admit the
real problem. There were no easy solutions for her problem or
Madeline's. Lori never knew how to act or what to say. She just lived
in guilt. Because as much as she loved her sister, she'd also
resented her in equal measure. Which made her a pretty horrible
person.
"I'm sorry," Reid told her. "I know
that doesn't help, but I don't know what else to say."
He
sounded sincere, she thought as she stared into his eyes. So they
were both clueless. An interesting thing to have in common. "Thank
you. I'm sorry I fell apart. It's not like me. Usually I can hold it
together."
"It's okay. Under the circumstances
anyone would."
She swallowed and forced herself to tell
the truth. "You helped."
One corner of his mouth
turned up. "Then that's a first for this month."
He
walked out of the kitchen, leaving her staring after him. Had they
just had a moment that included sensitivity? She didn't want him to
be more than just a pretty face. That made him far too dangerous for
her fragile peace of mind. But it seemed she didn't have a choice in
the matter.

* * *

REID WALKED INTO the small den he'd turned into a temporary
office. Lori's problems put his into perspective. People thinking he
was lousy in bed was nothing when compared with a sister dying. Of
course there were the kids who'd been disappointed, ignored and
abandoned by someone who was supposed to be a hero. Telling himself
it wasn't his fault wasn't cutting it anymore.
He glanced at
the stack of letters. Okay, so things had gone wrong. Could he fix
the problems after the fact? He grimaced as he remembered Frankie's
sobbing mother. If only…
No, he couldn't fix the
problems, but he could stop new ones from happening. He could do
better. He could get involved and make sure the right people got what
they needed.
He sat in front of the letters and saw the folder
from those kids he'd tried to send to the state finals. The ones who
hadn't gotten return tickets.
He read the hostile, accusing
letters and felt his gut tighten. Dammit, it wasn't his fault. He
hadn't had anything to do with the travel arrangements, but that
didn't matter. The offer had been made in his name.
He scanned
the bitter letters and found one from the coach. Not sure what he was
going to say, he picked up the phone and dialed.
It took a
couple of transfers, but he finally got hold of Coach Roberts. After
introducing himself he said, "I'm sorry about the mess with the
return tickets. I didn't know anything about the problem until a
couple of days ago. The travel agency my manager hired dropped the
ball. I, ah, had him send a check reimbursing everyone for their
expenses. Did you get it?"
"Oh, we got it," the
coach said. "It was great. It didn't cover shit, but, hey, it's
the thought that counts, right?"
Reid straightened. "What
are you talking about?"
"Do you really think a
thousand dollars covers seventeen kids and their families?"
A
thousand dollars? "No. There's been a mistake. It was supposed
to cover everything."
"I don't know what the hell
kind of game you think this is, Buchanan. You're the worst kind of
asshole. This is a poor town in a poor part of the state. These kids
come from working class families. They can't afford tickets, even on
the bus. One family's car got repossessed because they had to make a
choice— make the car payment or get their kids home. They
picked the kids. Now you send a check for a thousand dollars like
that means anything?"
"It was supposed to be more,"
Reid mumbled, feeling like crap. Why had Seth done it? Why such a
small amount?
"Those kids looked up to you," Coach
Roberts continued. "They idolized you. You made their dreams
come true and then you crushed them into dust."
"I'm
sorry," Reid repeated.
"You sure as hell are. A
sorry kind of man. You're everything I don't want these kids to
be."
He felt numb. "I want to make it up to them. Do
something. Can I send them all to Disney World or something?"
"Oh,
right. That would be great. Like anyone can afford a trip home from
Florida. I'd tell you to stick with what you know— screwing
women— but apparently you can't even do that right. Go away. No
one here wants anything to do with you. We can't afford your type of
charity."
And the phone went dead.

* * *

THE OUTSIDE OF THE upscale Asian restaurant was elegant. Subtle
colors, a sparse but very Zen-looking garden and a patio off to the
right that could be used for summer outdoor dining.
Dani
parked close to the front door and walked inside. Her interview was
with Jim Brace, the owner.
The décor was sparse, but
beautiful. Lots of glass with accents of brightly colored fabric. The
huge dining room was double the size of The Waterfront and spread out
in all directions.
As it was a couple of hours before opening,
there weren't many people around. She flagged a busboy who was
setting tables and asked for Jim.
The man stared at her. "Does
he know you're here?"
It wasn't the question that
startled her as much as the worry in his eyes.
"I have an
appointment with him."
"Oh, okay. I'll go get him."
He started to leave, then turned back to her. "Stay here and
don't touch anything."
"Promise," Dani said,
wondering what it was she was supposed to not be touching.
She
returned to the reception desk in the foyer and drew in a deep
breath. This was her first interview and it was a big one. Jim
Brace's restaurant was one of the best in Seattle. Restaurant critics
argued about which was more exquisite— the food or the service.
Starting here was like making a film debut in a summer
blockbuster.
She reminded herself she had more than enough
experience and that obviously Jim had been impressed by her résumé.
If she didn't get the job, at least she would have the interview
experience for the next time.
A tall, slim man walked toward
her. She recognized Jim from seeing his picture in the paper and
smiled at him.
"Mr. Brace, I'm Dani Buchanan."
"Call
me Jim, please, and I'll call you Dani." He shook hands with her
and led her toward the back of the restaurant. "Have you eaten
here before?"
"A couple of times. The food is
incredible."
"Secret recipes," he joked. "My
mother is half Chinese and my father's brother spent years in Japan.
I grew up in both places, learning the language, but more
importantly, studying the food. I summered here in Seattle, so I have
American sensibilities. The combination has allowed me to be
incredibly successful."
He paused as a young woman in a
kitchen uniform approached with a large tray.
Instead of
thanking her, Jim looked over the tray, took it, then said, "You
can go."
The woman bowed slightly and left.
He
began putting dishes on the table. "I know you'll want to get
another taste of the food. It's excellent. Our executive chef, Park,
has been with us about six months. I didn't like all the changes he
wanted to make, but I've let him do a few things."
"The
Waterfront went through the same sort of thing when it reopened,"
Dani said with a smile. "Penny Jackson was determined to get her
way. But who can argue with brilliance?"
"I can and
do," Jim told her. "It's my place. What I say goes."
Without bothering to ask what she liked, he dished up the food onto
two plates.
Dani took hers and studied the eclectic offering.
There were several kinds of dumplings, tempura vegetables, a
casserole that smelled heavenly.
Jim poured her tea, then
added a small amount of sugar. Okay, maybe it was just her, but this
was a guy who enjoyed taking charge just a little too much. She would
be lucky if he didn't cut up her food and put it on her fork for
her.
"I've been looking for a manager for a while,"
he said. "I need someone who can respect my vision. This
restaurant
is
me." He shrugged. "I've been called
difficult."
Dani thought about all Gloria had done,
letting her work her ass off and think she had a chance with the
company only to finally admit Dani would never do better than Burger
Heaven.
"I can handle difficult," Dani said. "As
long as there are clearly defined goals and targets."
"Hey,
that I can provide." Jim dug into his food and urged her to do
the same. "Isn't it great?" he said when he'd chewed and
swallowed.
She sampled the various dishes and had to agree.
When they'd finished, Jim rose and invited her to tour the restaurant
with him.
He explained about the specific arrangement of
tables and how regulars who spent big had special seating areas. He
preferred overbooking and didn't mind sending people away.
"Won't
they be unhappy and unlikely to return?" she asked.
"Some
will be, but in my experience people want what they can't have and
for a lot of them, that's dinner at my place."
Dani
wrinkled her nose. She was more of a "please the customer at all
costs" kind of manager.
They walked through the swinging
doors that separated the front of the store from the back. As they
stepped into the pristine, open kitchen, she braced herself for
flying insults and swearing in several languages. Instead there was
an unnatural silence.
She stared at the men all working hard—
chopping, blanching, prepping. The tallest of the group walked toward
him. The embroidered name on his white jacket identified him as the
executive chef.
"Park, this is Dani Buchanan. She's
interviewing for the manager job."
Park turned to face
her, then bowed slightly. But he didn't speak.
Dani had worked
with enough brilliant chefs to expect attitude, opinion and a volume
that would shatter the eardrums of the uninitiated.
"Hi,"
she said brightly. "I loved the sample menu. This is one place
where making recommendations would be easy."
Nothing
about Park's handsome face changed. He blinked slowly.
Before
she could figure out what else to say, there was a loud clang in the
back of the kitchen as two metal bowls fell into a metal sink. Jim
immediately turned and spoke harshly in a language Dani didn't
understand. Everyone froze in midmotion, even Park.
Jim turned
back to her and shrugged. "Gotta keep the boys in
line."
"Sure," she said, trying to smile and
failing. There was something seriously wrong in this kitchen. It was
too organized, too quiet, too perfect. Where was the controlled chaos
of creativity?
Jim led her back to his large office and
motioned for her to sit in one of the chairs in front of his
desk.
"I believe in keeping on plenty of wait staff,"
he said. "I might be willing to keep my customers waiting for a
table, but once they're seated, everything flows smoothly. You'll
like the crew. They work hard, they're on time, they're perfect at
their jobs, or they're fired."
Perfect? Who could
guarantee perfection on a regular basis?
"Do you have a
lot of turnover?" she asked.
"It takes a while to
get the right person, but once we find a server who works, they stay
a long time. The money's great."
Based on the number of
reservations they had each night and the crowd that might or might
not get seated, Dani could believe that.
The restaurant had
everything going for it— great location, better food, cachet
and five-star service. There was only one six-foot problem.
Jim
talked more about the restaurant, his vision, expectations and the
need to be on time, work long hours and give a hundred percent every
day.
Dani listened carefully even as she tried to figure out
why she had a knot in her stomach.
"I like you," Jim
said unexpectedly. "I know your grandmother. Not well, but I
know enough to understand if you rose to manage one of her
restaurants, you've got the right stuff and you're not afraid of hard
work. To be honest, I've been looking for the right manager for a
long time. I think you're her. Let me write you up an offer and then
we can talk again."
Dani blinked. "You're
kidding?"
Jim grinned. "I know you're excited."
He
kept talking, but she wasn't listening. Excited didn't exactly
describe the knot in her stomach.
This was a great
opportunity. Sure, Jim might be difficult, but no one could be as bad
as Gloria and she'd survived her.
So why wasn't she more
thrilled? Was she really getting a bad feeling or was she falling
into self-sabotage? Did she secretly believe Gloria's claim that she
just didn't have what it took and could never make it on her own?