Читать книгу Bedroom Secrets - Michelle Celmer, Michelle Celmer - Страница 8

She didn’t have enough money.

Tina DeLuca studied the change in her hand, dread creeping in to seize the empty space in her stomach the measly bowl of soup hadn’t filled. It had been the cheapest thing on the menu with any nutritional value. What she hadn’t counted on was the sales tax.

Not only did she not have money for the check, she wouldn’t have enough to use the pay phone on the off chance that she’d found her father. She’d hoped to call first rather than just showing up on his doorstep. Then she could at least determine if he was the correct Martin Lopez before she went barging in on his life.

And if he wasn’t? If this was another dead end? That feeling of dread swept back in. She was out of money with not a soul on earth to call for help. She had reached the end of the line. She could only hope the city had some sort of shelter she could spend the night in.

Or a jail, which is exactly where she would wind up if she couldn’t pay her bill, or somehow con her way out of paying it. But the only thing she hated more than being homeless and penniless was lying.

“Wherever God closes a door he opens a window,” her mother had written in her journal. Which had Tina wondering if the restroom had a window she could slip through.

No. She’d come this far without lying or cheating anyone. She would just have to be honest and hope the kind-faced woman took pity on her.

“You sure I can’t get you anything else, hon?” The kindly old waitress she suspected was the “Mae” of Mae’s Diner hovered by her table and Tina’s heart began to pound. Her hands shook so badly some of the change she’d been holding dropped and scattered across the table.

Mae’s face went from mildly confused to downright concerned. “Are you okay?”

Tina felt like the world’s biggest phony. How could she look this thoughtful woman in the eye and tell her that not only was she not going to get a tip for her exemplary service, she was going to be shortchanged on the check.

Tina had to come clean.

Her nearly empty stomach pitched and rolled, and she felt light-headed. Just do it.

“I don’t have enough,” she said, but it came out so softly and her voice was quivering so badly that Mae didn’t understand her.

“What was that, hon? You don’t what?”

“Have enough money,” she said more loudly, and the two women seated in the next booth turned to look at her with unmasked distaste. Tina’s face burned with shame. Could this be any more humiliating? “I thought I would have enough,” she explained. “But I forgot the sales tax. I’m twenty cents short.”

Mae lifted one penciled-in brow. “Twenty cents, huh?”

Tina felt tears welling in her eyes and fought to hold them in. This wasn’t the time to throw herself a pity party. She didn’t want Mae to think she was some kind of con artist. “I’ll do dishes,” she said. “Or I can cook. I’m a great cook.”

Mae frowned. “You’re not from around here, are you?”

Tina shook her head.

“Come with me.” Mae stepped aside so Tina could get out of her seat. Then she added, “To my office.”

This is it, Tina thought, her heart sinking so low she could feel the persistent throb of her pulse all the way down to her toes. Mae was going to call the police. Oh well, a jail cell was better than sleeping on the street. And if Ray reported what had happened last week, there was no doubt she would be arrested—for assault.

Tina stood on wobbly legs and grabbed her backpack from the bench seat. Holding her head high despite the look of pure disdain from the women in the next booth, she followed Mae to the front of the restaurant. She tried to see herself through their eyes. Her clothes were rumpled and dirty from several days without seeing the inside of a washing machine. She probably looked like one of the homeless people she’d seen sleeping at the bus station. She was homeless.

Mae led her through the busy kitchen, and Tina’s stomach rumbled from all of the magnificent smells lingering there. It had been days since she’d had a real meal. To stretch her limited funds she’d existed on a meager diet, one that consisted primarily of soup and crackers.

Mae led her into a tiny office near the back and gestured to one of the metal chairs opposite a small cluttered desk. “What’s your name, hon?”

“Tina,” she said, lowering herself into the chair closest to her and resting her bag against her legs. “Tina DeLuca.”

“Well, Tina DeLuca, you wait here.” Mae left, closing the door behind her and Tina steeled herself for what was to come. She looked up at several decades’ worth of Chamber of Commerce awards and a poster boasting Mae’s pastries to be the best in Michigan. Dozens of framed photos of what must have been Mae’s children and grandchildren lined the wall. Everyone looked so happy.

A big, happy family. Tina was a stranger to the concept. After she’d lost her mother, it had been only her, Aunt Louise and cousin Ray.

Some day I’ll have a real family, she thought. She would find the right man, settle down and have lots of babies. If she was patient, it would happen.

After she got out of prison.

She leaned her head back against the wall and closed her eyes. Lord, she was exhausted. She hadn’t slept more than a few hours a night since she’d left Philadelphia. She wondered if the beds in jail were more comfortable than a bus seat.

The door opened and a ripple of fear turned her limbs to jelly. She waited for the inevitable. For Mae to tell her the police were on the way.

Instead the woman set a plate down on the desk in front of Tina. A plate piled high with French fries and an enormous cheeseburger. Next to it she set a large glass of soda.

Mouth gaping, all Tina could do was stare. Why was Mae bringing her more food when she couldn’t even pay for her soup?

Mae circled the desk and took a seat, sliding the top drawer open. She rifled through it for a moment, then looked up at Tina, her brow raised. “Are you just going to stare at it?”

“But…”

“You’re hungry, aren’t you?”

Mae wasn’t calling the police. She was going to help her. Tina’s fear melted away and tears welled in her eyes. She hadn’t known such kindness existed anymore.

“Is there someone I can call for you, hon?”

Tina shook her head. “There’s no one.”

“I didn’t think so. Go ahead and eat it while it’s hot.” She returned her attention to the open drawer. “Now, I know that card is in here somewhere.”

Tina picked up a French fry and bit off a piece. It was greasy and salty and the most heavenly thing she’d ever tasted, and she could hardly swallow past the lump of emotion in her throat.

“Ah, here it is.” Mae pulled a slightly worn business card from the drawer and slid it across the desk.

Tina picked it up and read the name—Tyler Douglas. There was no title. Just an address and phone number.

“My sister, bless her decrepit soul, has worked for Tyler for years cleaning his rental properties. Well, her sciatica has gotten pretty bad this past year, and she can’t manage all the bending and stretching anymore. Especially in the cold weather. Just yesterday she told Tyler she had to quit, so I know for a fact he’s looking for someone to fill the position.”

When God closes a door he opens a window.

“A job?” Tina asked.

“You tell him Mae sent you over and he’ll set you up.” Mae stood, smoothing the front of her uniform. “You go ahead and finish your lunch, then you can let yourself out the back door.”

“Thank you. I’ll pay you for the food as soon as I can,” Tina assured her.

Mae just smiled. “I know you will.”

As Mae disappeared through the door, Tina could swear she saw the hint of a halo just above the woman’s silvery hair. And somewhere in the back of her mind she could hear the faintest sound of a window sliding open.

Tyler Douglas was putting his foot down.

Emily was his sister, and he loved her, but he had to draw the line at this. “There is no way in hell I’m standing up in your wedding with a guy.”

“But you’re the best man and Alex is my best friend,” Emily said, as if it was a completely logical deduction. “You have to stand up together.”

“Alex is gay.”

There was a pause then, “So?”

“What do you mean, so? What if people think we’re…together?”

“Alex was right—you are homophobic.”

“I wouldn’t walk down the aisle with any guy: gay, straight or undecided. And what does Mom think about you having a man for a maid of honor?” When she didn’t answer, he laughed. “You haven’t told her yet, have you?”

“It doesn’t matter what Mom thinks. It’s my wedding.”

“Yeah, you keep telling yourself that.”

“Just think about it, okay? Hey, and while I’ve got you on the phone, Matt said there’s a new secretary at the high school. Blond, big breasts, shallow—just the way you like ’em.”

“You’re not winning any points here.”

“I’m just kidding. Matt said she’s very nice. And single. We could double.”

“No, thanks.”

“Are you going through some kind of romantic dry spell or something?”

Her question hit home like a dynamite blast, making him wince. Dry spell didn’t begin to describe it. But things would get better. In time, he would be back to his old virile self.

He hoped.

“You know,” Emily said, “if there’s something wrong, you can talk to me about it.”

“There’s nothing wrong.” Nothing a few years of intense psychotherapy wouldn’t cure. No way in hell he could talk to his sister about that.

“Ty, since middle school you’ve always had a girlfriend. Sometimes two or three at a time.”

The outer office door jingled and he silently thanked whoever it was for the interruption. “Hey, someone’s here. Gotta run. I’ll call you later.”

“Ty—”

“Say hi to Matt for me. Love you.” He hit the disconnect button and set the phone down. That was a close call, and knowing Emily, he hadn’t heard the last of this. Though they weren’t identical, they were still bound by that cosmic connection twins often have. Depending on the circumstances, that could be a good or a bad thing.

“Hello?” a voice called from the lobby.

A female voice. Damn.

“In here,” Ty called back. He really needed to get a new receptionist to screen his visitors. Preferably an ugly receptionist. Or better yet, a man.

The source of the voice, who appeared in his office a second later, was neither ugly nor male. One look at her dark, inquisitive eyes, flawlessly smooth olive skin, and he instinctively took a step to the left, behind the safety of his desk.

Damn, it was really getting out of control when he couldn’t be in the same room with a beautiful woman without running for cover. Three months ago, he would have met her by the door and taken her hand, simply for the pleasure of testing the softness of her skin. There was a time when he’d loved everything about women. The way they smelled, the way they tasted, the silky softness of their hair.

Now he viewed them as the enemy. And he knew with no small measure of certainty, this woman could push all the right buttons if he let her.

“Are you Tyler Douglas?” she asked.

He pasted on a charming smile. “The one and only. What can I do for you?” Please let it be something quick and painless.

She returned the smile times ten. “Mae sent me over. She said you’re looking for a cleaning lady.”

Oh man, was she beautiful. And so young. He felt like a degenerate for the thoughts tumbling through his depraved brain. Things like the fullness of her breasts cupped into his palms, her slender fingers tunneling through his hair as he plundered her lush mouth with passionate kisses. She would taste sweet and tangy and…and oh man, he needed to stop this right now or he would be sorry. He could already feel the shift in his breathing, the familiar tug in his groin.

She stepped closer and his pulse began to accelerate. A cold sweat broke out across his forehead and his head began to spin.

Relax. Breathe, in and out.

“My name is Tina DeLuca,” she said, holding out a hand for him to shake. He dreaded the words he knew were coming next. “I’d like the job.”