Taste for Trouble (37 page)
Not
that he wasn’t a smart enough guy, or didn’t know how to think when he had to. Just
that success in his line of work meant
not
thinking. There wasn’t time. He
had split-seconds to make decisions and the answers had to come from his gut,
not his head. He couldn’t think; he just had to
know
.
And
what he knew right now was that, no matter what had happened between them last
night, he wasn’t going to let Bel walk away from him so easily. Maybe the thing
with her mom was a problem but so what? Problems were made to be solved, and he
was going to solve this one. He could start by learning one hell of a lot more
about what would make a woman as inherently fair and justice-oriented as Bel
turn such a hard cheek to her own blood. He’d bet his heavily insured right
foot there was a story there. Several of them, knowing Bel. She wouldn’t cut
somebody off after the first mistake. Not if she could love a guy like him. God,
he was such an idiot. Why hadn’t he remembered that last night?
The
scent of coffee hit him first, before he’d even pushed through the swinging door,
and his heart lifted inside him. She was there. Bel was in the kitchen. Because
who else could possibly be brewing a pot of coffee in his kitchen at the crack
of dawn? The smile that spread across his face felt goofy and wonderful. Bel
didn’t even like coffee. She drank tea. She’d made it for him.
He hit
the doors at a near run.
“Look,
Bel, we need to talk,” he said, then stopped. Because Bel wasn’t manning the
coffee pot. Bel was nowhere to be seen. Instead, Audrey sat at the island
counter, deep shadows under her eyes and bleak acceptance in her perfect face.
“Bel’s
gone,” she said.
“Gone?”
Dread clenched his lungs in a powerful grip. “Gone, like out for groceries? Or
gone, like—”
“Gone
like gone,” Audrey said. “Gone like not coming back.”
“That’s
ridiculous,” James said, as much for his benefit as Audrey’s.
“Did
you two have a fight or something?”
“Well,
yeah. But she lives here. This is her home.”
“This
is your home, James.” Audrey spoke carefully, as if mindful she was speaking to
her employer and trying not to shout. “Had you talked about her staying on
after last night? Even after Kate all but fired her again?”
“No,
but—”
“Or
did you tell her she was a failure to you, too, and that you didn’t want
anything to do with a girl whose family doesn’t work like yours?”
“She
talked to you?” James pressed a hand to his chest. It felt like somebody had
landed a punch right under his heart. He couldn’t get a decent breath.
“No,
not really. I surmised a great deal of it.”
“That
I was an ass? You surmised that?”
“It
wasn’t a hard conclusion to draw, James. Not looking at Bel’s face when she got
back here last night.”
He
shook his head. “Bel’s used to it by now. She’s got to be. I mean, I’m always
popping off without thinking. It’s why I’m sitting here with you now instead of
helping my team kick Mexico’s ass. She knows my mouth gets ahead of my brain
sometimes. She’s got to know that most of what I said last night was stupid,
spur-of-the-moment shit.”
“That
doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt her.”
He
glared at her. “I know that, Audrey. Thank you.”
She
shrugged. “I’m just saying.”
“She’s
angry right now. God knows she deserves to be. But this is Bel we’re talking
about. She wouldn’t leave without giving me a chance to apologize or explain.” Would
she?
“She
took suitcases, James. Plural.”
“She’ll
be back.” Audrey looked doubtful and he said, “Seriously, unless she took her
eggs and her butter and her milk, she’ll be back.”
Audrey
reached behind her and pulled open the fridge. “First thing she packed,” she
said. “The clothes seemed like an afterthought, to tell you the truth.”
James
stared at his refrigerator. Anybody else might’ve seen a well-stocked fridge
but to him it was a ghost town. Because all Bel’s stuff—the yeast, the capers,
the fancy olives or tapenades or what have you? Gone. The farmers’ market eggs,
the hunks of weird cheese, the big ol’ block of butter? Gone. She’d left behind
his
groceries, he realized slowly. She’d taken her own. There was no
trace that Bel had ever so much as made a sandwich in his house. His stomach
went cold and tight.
“Did
she—” James had to clear his throat against a sudden lump of fear and pain. “Did
she tell you where she was going?”
Audrey
swung the fridge shut and regarded him with equal parts accusation and
sympathy. “No. She just said to tell you goodbye.”
“Goodbye.”
James pushed on the straining emptiness in his chest with the heel of his hand.
“God.”
“What
are you going to do?” Audrey asked.
“Wake
Will and Drew, would you?” James was already heading for the door. “Catch them
up. I’m going to talk to Kate.”
By
the time he got to Hunt House, it wasn’t yet 7 a.m. on a Sunday morning but he
found Kate fully dressed and at her desk, as if the cameras were rolling.
He
rapped his knuckles on the glass of the French doors and waited while she rose,
still staring at a paper in her hand.
“James,”
she said, her knuckles showing white where she gripped the paper. “You heard
about this?”
He
glanced at the paper. “About what?”
“About
Bob’s retirement.” She stared at the paper in her hand as if it were a snake. “Effective
immediately.”
“No.
Doesn’t really surprise me, though.”
Her eyes
flew to his. “No?”
James
shrugged. “He’s been looking tired lately. Thin. Seemed sort of, I don’t know. Off.”
“Off.”
“I
expect Will knows all about it. You can talk to him if you’re overset by this,
Kate.” He stepped into the room and she automatically gave way, still frowning
thoughtfully at the letter in her hand. “But that’s not why I’m here. I’m
looking for Bel.”
“Bel?”
“Sure.
Bel. You know—tall, killer smile, hell on cakes?”
“I
had the impression Belinda was leaving town. She tendered her resignation late
last night.”
Fury
and fear twined together inside James, biting at his self-control. But he kept
his voice easy when he said, “A resignation you accepted?”
“Of
course. While I liked Belinda a great deal personally, my successor’s authority
on family relations must be above reproach. She simply wasn’t qualified for the
work, James.”
“Because
of her mother.”
Kate
inclined her head but the stately regret of the gesture clashed with the
satisfaction in her eyes. He thought back to Kate’s avid, hungry gaze on Bel
and Vivi at the fountain last night.
“You
knew her mother was a problem, didn’t you?”
Kate
seated herself with precision on the curvy little chair behind her desk and
watched him stalk back and forth on her fancy rug.
“You
knew exactly what would happen if you put Bel and her mom together in front of
a crowd, didn’t you?” He stopped pacing long enough to rake his hands through
his hair and stare at her in dawning wonder. “You set her up. You
invited
Vivi last night, didn’t you? You
wanted
Bel to fail. Why would you want
that?”
“Oh,
for pity’s sake.” Kate crossed her legs. “I didn’t
want
her to fail. I
didn’t
want
anything. It was a simple vetting process, and Belinda
proved last night beyond a shadow of a doubt that she lacked a basic job
qualification. An extremely important one. Possibly the most important one.” She
folded her hands on the desk calmly.
“A
picture perfect family.” James spat the words with a derision he couldn’t have
imagined himself using even twelve hours ago.
“They
don’t happen accidentally, Mr. Blake. No more than a perfect pot roast or a
gorgeous party does. They all require time, effort, attention to detail, and—most
importantly—an excellent recipe.” She leaned forward, pinned him with that cool
gaze. “That’s what I sell, dear—dependable recipes for good food, good friends,
a beautiful home, a happy family. And while we all agree that Belinda is a
certifiable miracle in the kitchen, I think we can also all agree that her
ability to perform up to
Kate Every Day
standards in other areas
was...lacking.”
“And
you’re such a paragon of family life?” He looked pointedly around the pristine
space. “Where are all the pictures of your husband and kids, Kate? Your
grandkids? The stray stuffed animal or dirty sock or empty coffee mug that
might point toward some people actually living in this museum you call a
house?”
He
flopped down in the antique chair across from her desk, paying no attention to
the pitiful creak as it bore up under his weight. “Oh, right, sorry. You don’t
actually
have
a family living here, do you? Because you don’t have a
family at all. And this isn’t really a home.”
She
stiffened. “I beg your pardon. This absolutely is my home.”
“It’s
a set, Kate. An immaculate and carefully constructed set where you create the
illusion of the perfect home, the perfect family, the perfect pot roast,
whatever. But nobody actually eats in your dining room. Nobody actually lives
in your living room. And sure as hell nobody actually cooks in your kitchen. It’s
all for show. So where do you get off judging Bel for her family life?”
“Judging
her?” Kate smiled at him, smooth and pleasant. “James, please. You’re not angry
with me for judging your precious Bel. You’re angry with yourself for judging
her. And more harshly, too. I only suggested she wasn’t particularly qualified
for my job. You suggested she wasn’t particularly qualified for your heart.”
James
stared at her for a long moment while he absorbed the sting of that one. God. This
woman had a real talent for swinging the truth like a hammer. And her aim was
friggin’ exceptional.
“You’re
absolutely right,” he finally said. “I did. I was hurt and tired and pissed off
that life wasn’t giving me exactly what I wanted. What I thought I’d earned. And
because of that, I hurt somebody I love very much. But unlike you, Kate, I’m
ashamed of myself. I dropped the hatchet on Bel without even trying to
understand her point of view, and she deserves more than that from me. She’s
earned
more than that from me. From both of us, really. She’s been feeding me since
the minute I met her—body and soul. And if she’s willing to give me the chance
to try, I’ll spend the rest of my life returning the favor.”
“A
worthy endeavor, I’m sure,” Kate murmured.
“It
is. And if you gave your viewers the chance to know her like we know her, I’m
pretty sure they’d love her, too. Vivi or no Vivi.”
“Yes,
well. You’ll forgive me if I don’t agree.”
“Suit
yourself.” James rose from the chair, a sudden, itchy energy bubbling up inside
him. He needed to find Bel. Needed to share this new clarity in his heart with
her. “Can I see that letter from Bob?”
Kate
pushed it across the desk with one finger.
“Says
here he’ll be out of touch immediately and indefinitely. No email, no cell?” James
cocked a brow at Kate. “Doesn’t sound like the Bob I know.”
“He
advises me to have my lawyer handle any contract negotiations that arise until
he can finalize the sale of his agency.”
“Mmmmm,
yeah, I see that.” James frowned at the letter. “Any idea where he might have
holed himself up?”
Kate
blinked at him. “Why?”
“Because
if anybody knows where Bel is, it’s Bob.”
“Why
would Bob know where Belinda is?”
James
glanced up from the paper. Kate looked genuinely confused. “Because he didn’t
doubt her,” James said. “Not ever. Bob believed in Bel from the beginning and
he never swerved. Bel wouldn’t blow town without seeing him. It would be rude.”
Kate
accepted that like the manners maven she was. “I can give you his home address
and a number for a land line. After that, you’ll have to work with the
answering service he’s listed in the letter.”
“Fine.
Thanks.” James took the sheet she tore off a monogrammed note pad and headed
for the door. He stopped, one hand on the knob. Turned back.
“Are
you really going to let him disappear like this?” he asked. “Without a word or
a fight?”
Kate
shrugged, an elegant twitch of the shoulders inside her silky blouse. “I’ll
find another agent,” she said.
“That
wasn’t really what I was asking, Kate.”
“I
know.” She picked up her china tea cup, sipped what must surely be cold tea. “Please
close the door on your way out.”
When
he returned to the Annex, James found Drew hunched at the keyboard of what
served as his computer, Audrey peering over his shoulder at the screen. As
usual, the casing was off the tower and a jumble of wires and computer innards
spilled out onto the floor. The man had at least half a dozen high-powered
laptops to his name, James knew, not to mention the tablets and the smart
phones that weighed down his pockets like spare change. But when performance
mattered, Drew headed straight to his desktop Frankenstein.