The Trouble With Love (7 page)

“Devlin didn’t say.” Chloe’s Android chimed with an incoming message. “Sorry.” She read and smiled. “It’s Daisy. She’s waiting for me at Moose-a-lotta. Needs me to pick up some lightbulbs.”

Luke raised a brow. “You taught Gram to text?”

“Except she keeps spelling everything out. Some of her messages are eons long. At this rate I’m going to need an extended texting plan.” Shaking her head, Chloe slipped the phone back in her pocket. “So that’s your solution to our predicament?” she said, focusing back on Luke. “Getting Rocky to come clean with Devlin ASAP? Doesn’t seem like much of a plan.”

Luke shrugged. “It’s a start.”

“Speaking of…” Keeping her voice low, she leaned in again and smiled. “Did Sam call you about tomorrow night?”

“Reservations for two. Finally got off his ass and asked Rachel out. Amazing.”

“Mmm. Well, he was sort of pushed into it and she sort of reluctantly agreed. Not the most promising of beginnings. Plus they both seem, I don’t know, awkward and nervous about it. Do you think you could—”

“Give Sam some pointers?”

Chloe smirked. “I was going to say ‘
make sure they have a special dining experience,
’ but a refresher course on dating etiquette might not be a bad idea. From what I understand, Sam’s been out of the game a long time.”

“Yeah.” Losing his wife, the love of his life, to cancer had crushed Sam. Luke envied his cousin for a lot of reasons, but he didn’t envy that heartache.

Chloe slid off the stool. “Thanks for the coffee, Luke, and the advice, such as it was. See you in the morning at Moose-a-lotta?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” Luke watched her cute butt go, reminding himself that cute butt belonged to his big brother.
Hands off
.
Thoughts clean.
Right. He glanced down the bar at Adam and Kane, who toasted him with empty mugs.

“If Connie was here,” Kane said with a teasing grin, “I’d ask her for a refill. But she’s not.”

“Didn’t you lose a waitress last week?” Adam asked.

“Marla,” Luke said. “Moved to Pixley.” Next town over. And lately Nell, his newest waitress, had become unreliable.

“Between the weekend crowd and the tourists that’ll be coming in for the Spookytown Spectacular,” Kane said, “you’re gonna be shorthanded.”

Adam pushed off his stool. “Toss me the sign.”

Luke reached under the bar. He hadn’t used this in a while. In fact, lately Dev, who handled the accounting for the Shack, had been nagging Luke about having too many employees on the payroll. Luke had a hard time turning away pretty ladies in need of a job. Unfortunately, they also frequently came and went. Luke passed Adam the laminated sign. “Put it—”

“I know where it goes. Front window. Bottom left corner.”

“If you want my advice,” Kane started.

“I don’t,” Luke said. He handed the cocky logger the phone book. “Do me a favor. Look up the number for the
Pixley Tribune.
I’ve got the
Sugar Creek Gazette
in my speed dial.” Android pressed between shoulder and ear, Luke nabbed two Buds from the fridge and set them in front of the brothers.

“Yeah, hi,” Luke said when the local newspaper’s receptionist answered. “This is Luke Monroe over at the Sugar Shack. I need— Uh, that’s right,” he said, rolling his eyes when his two regulars chuckled. “Another ‘Help Wanted’ ad.”

CHAPTER SIX

Manhattan, New York

Maybe it was the shock of the mugging and subsequent accident. Maybe it was the bump on her noggin or the fact that she was completely out of her element. Rocky preferred to blame any single one or combination of these things for the slight daze that had dogged her all through the meeting, rather than the way Jayce had kissed her at the hospital. Or the way he’d looked at her in her new dress and heels. Or the way he’d fussed with her hair. (Talk about a shocker of a turn-on.) She didn’t want to admit that the man she’d been so intent to forget still had the power to mesmerize her. Instead she blamed everything from A to Z for her distracted mind-set, including the way Tasha had flirted with their future editor as well as the attending publicist.

“Don’t you think you were a little overly friendly?” Rocky asked Tasha as they squeezed into the cramped elevator of the pre–WW I building.

“It’s called networking.”

“It’s called flirting.”

“Can I help it if I’m interesting and attractive?”

“If not modest.”

Nonplussed, Tasha pressed a button on the brass panel, then inspected her French manicure. “I wanted to prove that at least one of us would be effective as a public spokesmodel for the group. You heard Michael. The publicity department will be targeting magazines, newspapers, and television outlets regarding possible features and interviews.”

“Yes, but they’re promoting the recipe book, not Tasha Burke.”

“You bragged plenty, Rocky.”

“About the members of the Cupcake Lovers and our accomplishments.”

“Which bordered on tedious after a while. Didn’t you see Brett’s and Michael’s eyes glazing over? I simply interjected a little fun—”

“Flirting.”

“—into your dull dissertations.”

“They
asked
me about the history of the club.”

“A blurb would have sufficed.”

“Blurb?”

“That’s publishing speak for a snippet, an extremely condensed description.”

Rocky rolled her eyes as the doors opened and they stepped out of the elevator into the semi-bustling lobby. As if one book offer made Tasha an expert on publishing.

“You’re just jealous because Brett and Michael only had eyes for me.”

Dream on, Pinhead
. Although Rocky had been focused on business and reeling from the aftereffects of Jayce, she’d still picked up on her own share of male appreciation. Thing was, Rocky couldn’t care less, whereas Tasha cared more than she should. Being doted on and adored by her rich and influential husband wasn’t enough? Talk about pathetic.

“I feel for you, Rocky; I do,” Tasha went on as they shrugged into their coats. “You couldn’t even attract interest with that revealing dress and tousled hairstyle. Talk about overdoing it.”

Revealing? Tousled?
“I wasn’t trying to attract—”

“No wonder you’re hopelessly single,” Tasha said. “You don’t know how to play the game.”

“Yeah, well, you shouldn’t be playing at all,” Rocky said as they stepped outside and into the crush of a thriving city. “You’re married. Does Randall know you’re meeting that publishing suit for dinner this evening?” Rocky had overheard that tidbit just before she’d exited the editor’s office.

“It’s business.”

“Then why wasn’t I invited?”

“Envious?”

“Hardly.”

“Poor Rocky,” Tasha said, primping the haircut that had cost a small fortune—not that it looked all that different from her usual style. “Your first night in the Big Apple and you’ll be spending it alone.”

“Actually,” Jayce said, stepping in from out of nowhere, “she’ll be spending it with me.”

Tasha blinked up at the tall, broad-shouldered, and darkly dressed man. “Jayce Bello?”

“Tasha,” he said, unsmiling. “Burke now, right? Married to the mayor of Sugar Creek. Designer clothes, private jets, chauffeured limos. Moving up in the world.”

“Yes, well—”

“Now you’ve snagged the attention of a New York publisher. What next? The Food Network?”

“I—”

“Impressive.” He smiled down at Rocky. “Ready for dinner?”

The sexy tilt of his mouth shanghaied Rocky’s thoughts.
Who am I and why are we standing here talking to Pinhead Burke when we could be alone doing the nasty?
“Dinner,” she managed. “Sure.” Just as that killer smile rendered her weak in her knees, Jayce looped a possessive arm around Rocky’s waist.

“By the way, smart move,” he said to Tasha. “Ditching your wedding ring while in the city. Flashing expensive jewelry attracts unscrupulous attention.”

Rocky blinked out of her daze and glanced to Tasha’s bare left hand—something she hadn’t noticed during the meeting—then to the woman’s burning cheeks. At least Tasha had the decency to blush, or maybe that was anger, because, man, did Jayce have her number.

Tasha gave a tight smile. “Don’t let me hold you up.”

“Call me. Text me. Let me know about tomorrow’s plans,” Rocky said to the woman as Jayce maneuvered her away and into the burgeoning sea of pedestrians. Sidestepping a metal grate and an unidentifiable glob of food, Rocky gawked up at her escort. “You totally dissed Tasha Burke.”

“Still can’t believe Dev dated that conniving bitch.”

“The two worst months of my life.” Rocky shook off the memory. Before Chloe, Dev had had sketchy judgment in women. Although his most mind-boggling relationship had been with the bane of Rocky’s existence. “By the way, nice catch on the missing wedding set. I can’t believe I didn’t notice. She always wears those gaudy diamonds.”

“Even in the tanning bed. Hence the lighter skin around her ring finger, which I wouldn’t have noticed—”

“If she’d been wearing the rings.” Rocky smiled. “Way to observe.”

“Part of the job.”

Another dazzling talent. Along with making Rocky’s blood sizzle and her senses hum. Not to mention his ability to kiss her into a blissful stupor. She tried not to think about the kissing part. They were not a couple. They weren’t even on friendly terms. There would be no more kissing or … “Hey. Hey, wait a minute.”

Rocky stopped in her tracks, tripping up the person behind her.

“What the hell, lady?”

Jayce placated the man while Rocky frantically checked her coat pocket to make sure the person who’d rammed into her hadn’t stolen her phone. Haunted by this morning’s purse snatching, she trusted no one. Jayce, meanwhile, finessed her against a storefront. “You can’t stop like that in the middle of foot traffic, Dash.”

Still in possession of her Android, Rocky tamped down the panic and fury of being violated a second time. She couldn’t believe how easily she’d been rattled. Cheeks hot, she latched on to her former concern. “You made it sound like we were hooking up.”

“What? When?”

“Back there. You told Tasha I’d be spending the night with you.”

“So?”

“You mentioned dinner.”

“And?”

“Made it sound like a date. What if she says something to Randall and it gets back to Dev?”

“What if it does? Knowing Dev, he’ll be glad his best friend, who knows Manhattan like the back of his hand, is looking out for his little sister who got mugged on day one. Incidentally, did you tell him about that yet?”

“Not yet and don’t change the subject.”

“You’re the one who brought it up and don’t pick a fight.”

“I’m not…”

Jayce raised a brow.

“It’s just … You…”
Damn.
She’d fallen back on ancient anger like a safety net. Easier than managing her whacked-out libido. Preferable to acknowledging the emotional collateral damage of the mugging and subsequent accident. Both had made her feel skittish and vulnerable. Add to that being unfamiliar with Manhattan and overwhelmed by Jayce … Okay. Yeah. Maybe she’d been a little overdramatic.

Jayce moved in, ramping her sexual awareness like an airborne aphrodisiac. “Do you want to know more about this big bad private dick or not?”

Rocky’s heart raced; her inner thighs tingled. Raging lust. Better than panic. Far better than vulnerability.
Focus on sex. Sex, not assault. Aggressor, not victim. Control. Take control.
Knowing Jayce better might eviscerate her obsessive desire once and forever, or … it could backfire. “What did you have in mind?”

“How’s your head?”

“What? Oh.” Rocky palmed her bandaged forehead. “It’s tender, but other than that, I’m good.”

“In that case, let me show you around. Dinner. Drinks. First time in the city. Anything special you’d like to do? See?”

Aside from you, naked?
“I did have a list. It was in my bag. You know. The one that got swiped? Anyway, I had a few ‘must-sees,’ but mostly there were things that Gram asked me to do. Things she’d always wanted to do, and I admit they seemed sort of fun.”

“Okay.”

“You’ll think they’re touristy. Boring. Maybe even stupid.”

“I’d endure boring and stupid for Daisy.”

Rocky considered the man, his past, and his genuine affection for her eccentric grandma. She sighed. “Yeah. You would.”

“Let’s start with dinner. I bet you haven’t had a good meal all day.”

“You’d win that bet.”

“Italian? Thai? Mexican? French? Name your poison.”

Rocky eyed the vendor on the corner. The portable silver cart with the heating and refrigeration units, and a striped umbrella to protect food and server from the elements. She’d spied similar food vendors on practically every block, and it was the one city aroma that actually appealed. The devil in her was also tempted to test Jayce’s patience regarding touristy ventures. Embracing the moment, if not the man, Rocky cocked a challenging brow. “I’ll name the poison
and
the place.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

Hot dogs in Central Park.

Jayce had looked forward to treating Rocky to a sampling of New York’s finest local food. Pasta and cannoli in Little Italy. Dim sum and lo mein in Chinatown. Hell, even something touristy like the contemporary cuisine of Sardi’s. Purchasing hot dogs and a couple of cans of soda from a street vendor and then parking their asses on a cold, hard bench fell short of his expectations. Then again, watching Rocky dressed up and chowing down on a dog smothered in mustard and relish was a bit of a warped turn-on. “Everything you dreamed of?”

“Not bad,” she said around a mouthful, “but not spectacular either.”

“You expected spectacular from a street vendor?”

“There’s one on every other corner. You see them in the movies and on television all the time and people always clamor around them. Figured they had to be pretty good.”

“Grab and go,” Jayce said, biting into his own dog. “Fast. Convenient.”

“Satisfying.”

“Really?”

“Sampling native food was on Gram’s and my must-do list.”

And this counted?
He didn’t argue. “What else was on that list?”