Читать книгу Sweet Spot - Susan Mallery, Susan Mallery - Страница 8

SATURDAY MORNING Nicole arrived at the bakery about ten minutes before Raoul was due for his shift. Not that she was actually expecting the teenager. She’d reacted to the moment—she’d been nice. And she was a firm believer that no good deed went unpunished. So he wouldn’t show and she would be pissed, mostly at herself.

She walked toward the rear door of the bakery, only to be joined by a tall, dark-haired kid who fell into step with her.

“Good morning,” Raoul said politely.

She glanced at him. “You’re early.”

“I didn’t want to be late.”

“I’m impressed you’re here at all.”

“You didn’t expect me?”

“No.”

“I gave my word.”

“You stole doughnuts. That makes your word questionable.”

She wasn’t exactly looking at him as she spoke, so she couldn’t be sure, but she caught what looked like a flinch out of the corner of her eyes. Because she doubted him? Because she mentioned the stealing? Great. Every morning should start with a hypersensitive pastry thief.

“You’re also a jock,” she added, not sure why she felt compelled to make him feel better. “I have this thing against jocks. It dates back to high school, when all the guys I had crushes on ignored me.”

“I don’t believe that.”

She sighed. “Are you trying to be charming?”

“Only a little. I’m practicing.”

She could guess who the master he’d learned from was. “Save it for someone who’s more easily impressed. I’m immune.”

“I noticed. You didn’t like Coach Hawkins much.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Nicole murmured, even though it was true. She thought Hawk was gorgeous and had an amazing body more than capable of making her entire being go up in flames, but that didn’t mean she had to like the man. There was no way she was going to be taken in by his practiced smile and sexual heat that sizzled so much it probably contributed to global warming.

Raoul held open the door to the bakery. Nicole went in and waved at Phil.

“Morning,” she called.

Phil, an older man dressed all in white, including his apron, hurried toward them.

“Morning,” he said, looking Raoul over. “You ready to do work?”

“Yes, sir.”

Phil didn’t look convinced. “This isn’t going to be easy and I’m not interested in complaints. You hear me? No whining.”

Raoul straightened. “I don’t whine.”

“We’ll see.”

Phil led him away.

Nicole watched them go. Raoul would work off what he owed her by scrubbing massive mixing bowls used to make bread dough. That would be followed by an assortment of tasks designed to make Raoul think twice about stealing rather than buying. She wondered if the lesson would be learned or simply endured.

FOUR HOURS LATER Nicole had gone through the pile in her in-basket, a task she always dreaded. But she’d wanted to stay through Raoul’s shift and working in the bakery itself wasn’t going to happen until she was cane-free. She dropped the invoices into a folder and labeled it to go to her accountant. Phil knocked on the open door and stepped in front of her desk.

“How’s it going?” she asked.

“Good. Better than I expected. The kid can work. He does what he’s told, no attitude, no slacking off. I like him.”

Nicole raised her eyebrows. “That’s unusual.”

“Tell me about it. I think you should offer him a job. We need somebody like him in the off-hours. He goes to school and plays football, so he’d be available then. That’s when I could use him.”

“Okay. I’ll talk to him.”

Nicole stood and stretched. The ache in her knee was manageable and getting better.

Raoul was in the back, stacking sacks of flour. He set each one squarely on the bag below, making sure the piles wouldn’t lean and eventually topple.

“Nice work,” she said. “You impressed Phil and that’s not easy.”

“Thanks.”

“You want a real job? Part-time. We’d work around your school schedule and football. The pay isn’t bad.” She named an hourly rate slightly above what he would get working retail or even at a restaurant.

Raoul put the last bag in place, then wiped his hands on the apron Phil had found for him.

“I can’t,” he said, not looking at her.

“Okay.”

“I need the money. It’s not that.”

“Then what? It’s casting season for the new TV shows and your agent is going to want you to fly to L.A.?”

That earned her a slight smile that faded quickly. He seemed to collect his courage before looking at her. “You won’t want to hire me. Not yet. I’m going to be eighteen in a couple of weeks. When I’m an adult, I can petition to get my juvenile records sealed. Until then, I have a criminal record.”

She was a little surprised and disappointed. “What did you do?”

“I stole a car when I was twelve. To impress my friends. It was stupid and I got caught five minutes later. I didn’t do anything else before or since. Except the doughnuts and you know about that. I learned my lesson.” He dropped his gaze to the floor. “There’s no reason for you to believe me.”

There was one, she thought. Checking out his story would be easy, so he’d be an idiot to lie. And Raoul didn’t strike her as stupid.

“Starting your criminal life by stealing a car is pretty impressive. Most people just shoplift. You headed right into the big league.”

That earned her a slight smile. “I was a kid. I didn’t know any better.”

He was still a kid, she thought. Did he know better now?

“The job offer still stands. It’s not easy work, but it’s honest. And you’ll get all the leftover baked goods you can stomach.”

“I can stomach a lot.”

“Then this is a great deal for you.”

He looked into her eyes. “Why would you trust me?”

“Everybody gets to screw up once.” She thought of her baby sister. Jesse had been given four or five hundred chances and still managed to blow every one.

“Then I’ll take the job,” he said. “I have football practice every afternoon, so maybe I could work in the morning, before school.”

“Talk to Phil about that. He’ll be your boss. If you’re interested in more hours once the season is over, let him know.”

Raoul nodded. “Thanks. You didn’t have to do any of this. You could have called the police.”

She didn’t bother pointing out that she’d tried. Instead of Seattle’s finest, Hawk had shown up.

“What is it with men and football?” she asked. “Why do you play? For the glory?”

“I love the game,” Raoul told her. “I want to go to college. I can’t afford it, so I’m hoping for a football scholarship.”

“Then you’ll turn pro and make millions?”

“Maybe. The odds are against it. Coach says I have talent.”

“Is he in a position to judge?”

Raoul frowned. “He’s my coach.”

Which didn’t answer the question, Nicole thought. How would a high school coach know if any one player would make it all the way to the pros? How could anyone?

“You don’t know who he is,” Raoul said, sounding shocked. “You have no idea.”

Nicole shifted uncomfortably. “He’s your coach.” And totally hot, but that was beside the point.

“He’s Eric Hawkins. He played pro for eight years and retired at the top of his game. He’s a legend.”

She found that hard to believe. “Lucky him.”

“He’s the best. He doesn’t have to work for the money. He’s teaching high school football because he loves the game and he wants to give back.”

Nicole resisted the urge to yawn. Raoul was reciting what sounded very much like a canned speech. Probably one the kid had heard dozens of times from the legend himself.

“Good to know,” she said and pulled forty dollars out of her back pocket. “Here.”

He didn’t take the money. “You can’t pay me.”

“Sure I can. You won’t be an official employee until you fill out the paperwork. So take this for now. You’ll punch a time clock and get a real paycheck soon enough.”

He actually tucked his hands behind his back. “I was working to pay off the doughnuts I stole.”

“Technically you didn’t even get them out the door. You’re not very good at the whole stealing thing.” She sighed when he didn’t smile. “Look, you worked hard today. I appreciate that. You earned this. Take it or I’ll get really crabby and trust me, you don’t want to see that.”

He reached for the money. “You think you’re really tough, but you don’t scare me.”

That almost made her laugh. “Give it time, kid. Give it time.”

NICOLE LED RAOUL to the front of the bakery, where she filled a couple of bags with day-old pastries and baked goods.

“You don’t have to do this,” he said, even as he stared longingly at the half-dozen cookies she scooped up.

“You can handle the calories. Like I said—it’s a perk.”

“Are there other perks?”

That question didn’t come from Raoul. Nicole didn’t have to turn around or even think to know who’d been speaking. And in case there was any confusion in her brain, her entire body flushed a welcome.

She straightened, braced herself for impact, then turned. Sure enough, Hawk stood behind the case, smiling that sexy, you-know-you-want-me smile of his.

He was slightly more dressed than he had been the previous day. Today his shorts were longer and his T-shirt covered all of his chest and stomach, which was both good and bad. In theory she should be able to think more easily. In reality, she was just a little disappointed.

“What do you want?” she asked, not caring that she sounded snappish.

“Interesting question,” he murmured, then winked at Raoul. “I came to see how my star player worked out. He impressed the hell out of you, didn’t he?”

Nicole found herself neatly trapped. She actually liked Raoul and had been happy to offer him a job. But with Hawk there, she felt the need to say nothing had gone well and she was happy to be rid of him.

“He was fine,” she said and handed the bags to Raoul. Afraid she would see disappointment in the kid’s eyes, she added, “Better than fine. He did great.”

“I knew it.”

“This isn’t actually about you. I know that’s an amazing concept, so I should probably give you a minute to wrap your mind around it.”

Hawk chuckled. “Raoul, you don’t have to stick around here. I’ll see you at practice in a couple of hours.”

The kid nodded and left. Nicole watched him go because it was easier than trying not to look at Hawk. The man was like catnip.

When they were alone, Nicole suddenly didn’t know what to do with any part of her body. She wanted to back up…or move much, much closer. Her arms felt funny just hanging at her sides. But crossing them seemed too hostile.

She hated this. The man had the power to make her feel awkward in her own skin.

“You don’t still need to be here,” she told him.

“I want to thank you for giving Raoul a chance,” Hawk told her, easing closer without seeming to move.

Quite the trick, she thought grimly.

“He worked hard. That happens a whole lot less than I would like. I gave him a job.”

Hawk raised one eyebrow. “He did impress you.”

“He needs the work, I need the help. Don’t make it more than it is.”

Dark eyes seemed to stare into her very being. “You want people to think you’re tough.”

“I am tough.”

“You’re a marshmallow inside.”

She stiffened. “I could have had your player’s ass thrown in jail. Don’t think I wouldn’t have done it if he hadn’t shown up today. I’ve been running this place for years. I know what I’m doing.”

“Do you like what you’re doing?”

“Of course,” she said automatically because it was always what she answered. She’d known she would run the bakery from the time she was eight or nine years old. It had been understood…expected. Hers wasn’t to be a life of many surprises. Lately there sure hadn’t been any good ones.

Wait. There had been Claire. Reuniting with her sister had been good. Watching Claire fall madly in love, get pregnant, get engaged and find total happiness had stretched her good nature a little, but she was dealing. Because what choice did she have?

“Earth to Nicole.”

She blinked and saw Hawk standing a little too close.

“I lost you there,” he said.

“That must be a first,” she said without thinking. “A woman focusing on something other than you for an eighth of a second.”

“Because I’m so hard to resist?”

“Not for me.”

“I don’t believe that. You’re interested.”

If she’d been able to look at him for more than five seconds at a time without wanting to make moany noises, she might have picked up something heavy and clocked him on the head. As it was, he was telling the truth and she was too embarrassed to figure out a quick way to verbally eviscerate him. Which left her with the humiliating comeback of, “I’m not interested.”

He grinned. “That was convincing.”

“I don’t care what it is, it’s the truth.” Almost. Annoyance pushed her to honesty. “You know you’ve got a great body and you obviously enjoy flashing it at the world. Which means what? You’re well into your thirties. Shouldn’t you be over that by now? Shouldn’t you spend about a third as much time developing your mind as your body? You can’t be a football coach forever.”

Too late, she remembered that, yes, he could be a coach forever and that Raoul had mentioned something about him being a professional football player. Which probably meant he was rich.

“You’re assuming I’m stupid?” he asked in a tone that was both amused and outraged. “Is that because I have muscles or because I play football? Isn’t that the same as me assuming you’re an idiot because you’re a natural blonde?”

Maybe. Yes. She ignored the question. “How do you know I’m a natural blonde?”

“My excellent powers of observation.”

“I run a successful business. I’m obviously more than capable,” she said primly.

HAWK LIKED how Nicole got all pinchy when she was annoyed. He liked how every time he moved closer, she got flustered and didn’t know where to look. If she hadn’t been interested, she would have told him to back off and get away, but she hadn’t said a word. He liked that, too.

“Obviously,” he teased, as he moved closer.

“Don’t you have any respect for personal space?”

“No.”

She raised her head and glared, but before she could speak, he said, “You have beautiful eyes.”

Her mouth opened and closed. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Flirting.”

“Why?”

“It’s fun.”

“Not for me.”

“Everyone enjoys attention.”

“Speak for yourself.”

“You don’t think your eyes are beautiful?”

“They’re fine. Functional. I don’t care about the color.”

“Sure you do. You have to know they’re pretty. You’re pretty.”

Nicole blushed.

He didn’t see it at first. She turned away and muttered something under her breath. All he caught were a couple of words, including “unbelievably arrogant” and “ego.” So he wasn’t paying attention until he saw her press her fingers to her cheeks as if trying to cool the skin.

Why would someone so together blush because he noticed she was pretty? Unless no one else bothered to look. He had a feeling she was the kind of woman who scared off men and then wondered why she was lonely.

He could fix that.

“You like me flirting with you,” he said. “It’s the best part of your day.”

“You’re amazing.”

“I know.”

She groaned. “I don’t mean that in a good way. You are delusional. Nothing about you is the best part of my day.”

“Liar.”

She made a sound of frustration low in her throat. It was almost a growl. He wondered what she sounded like right before she lost control in bed. He had a feeling she would scream.

“Save the flirting for someone who’s interested,” she muttered, holding on to her cane so hard her knuckles turned white.

“You’re interested.”

She shook her head. “Don’t you have somewhere you need to be?”

“Sure, but this is more fun.”

“No, it’s not.”

He was getting to her. The blush deepened and she couldn’t decide if she wanted to throw herself at him or punch him. Frustration was good. It meant she was interested and annoyed with herself at the same time.

“We should go out,” he said, knowing the invitation would push her further off balance.

“What? No.”

“Dinner. We’ll go to dinner.”

“I’m not going to dinner with you.”

“Why not?”

“It’s not a good idea.”

And the first round went to him. If she really hadn’t been interested, she would have told him directly.

“Sure it is.” He moved so close that she had to tilt her head back to continue to meet his gaze. “It’s an excellent idea.”

“I’m not going.”

“Yes, you are.”

“I’m not and you can’t make me.”

He walked to the door of the bakery and paused. “Want to bet?” he said, and then he left.

As he crossed to his truck, he could practically hear her sputtering. That had gone well. It was early in the first quarter, and he was already deep in enemy territory and poised to score.

“AMY’S THERAPY is going really well,” Claire said as she chopped more mushrooms, then scooped them into a bowl. “She’s young, which helps. Her brain is still open to change. Unlike those of us who have closed brains.”

Nicole shredded lettuce into a bowl. “I have no idea where my brain stands on the whole open-closed issue.”

Amy was Wyatt’s daughter and Claire’s soon-to-be stepdaughter. She’d been born deaf and had recently asked for a cochlear implant to help her hear. While the surgery put in the required hardware, special therapy was required to train her to recognize sound in a new way and process it.

“Amy’s so excited about the implant,” Claire said. “She asks me to play for her every night.”

“Which you love.”

“I do. She’s my biggest fan.”

Given that Claire was a world-class concert pianist, with Grammy-winning CDs and more concert dates than she could fill in two lifetimes, that was saying something.

“I thought Wyatt was your biggest fan,” Nicole teased.

“He is. In other ways.”

Her sister laughed and Nicole smiled. She was happy for Claire. Seriously. She didn’t want Wyatt for herself. She tried telling herself she didn’t want any man for herself, but she knew she would be lying. She wanted someone special. Someone who would love her and always be there for her. Unfortunately she’d picked Drew.

Instantly she flashed back to that night when she’d walked in on Drew and Jesse in bed together. They’d been kissing, or about to. Jesse’d been topless. Nicole had—

She reminded herself not to go there. She had to stop torturing herself with the past. She’d put Drew behind her; she had to move on. She should think about something more pleasant.

Immediately images of Hawk filled her brain. The man might make her crazy, but he had a body to die for. She’d never been all that into appearance, but in his case, she was willing to make an exception.

Time for a mental change of subject, Nicole told herself.

She finished with the lettuce and passed the bowl to her sister. “So have you figured out your fall traveling schedule?”

Claire shrugged. “Nearly. Lisa gave me a list of places and I’m narrowing them down. I don’t want to be gone too much. Not just because of missing Wyatt and Amy, but I don’t want to get exhausted for the baby.”

“Are you checking with your doctor?” Nicole asked, trusting the medical profession with Claire’s health a lot more than she trusted Lisa, Claire’s manager.

Claire nodded. “She wants me to keep travel to a minimum during the last couple weeks of my first trimester. Then I’ll travel a lot during the second. Less during the third. Lisa mentioned something about a holiday concert series in Hawaii, but I don’t think I’ll be up for it.”

Nicole reached for an avocado. “Why not? Can’t you take Amy?”

“Oh, sure. We’d have a nice beach house to use, but it’s so far and not really a time when I want to be traveling. You know. Away from family.”

Nicole was about to point out that most of Claire’s family—her fiancé and his daughter—would be with her. Then she got it. Claire didn’t want to be gone from her. She didn’t want to leave Nicole alone for Christmas.

“I’ll be fine,” she said quickly. “You should go.”

“This isn’t about you,” Claire said, but she didn’t sound convincing. “This is our first chance to be together at the holidays since we were six. I’m not going to Hawaii. I don’t want to.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I can’t help that,” Claire told her.

“You worry about me.”

“Sure, but I’ll get over it.”

Nicole tried to smile, but couldn’t quite make her lips move. She appreciated that people cared, but disliked the need for sympathy. Normally she managed her life such that she was the capable one. The one others looked to for guidance. She wasn’t usually the one they pitied.

“Speaking of getting over things,” Claire said casually. “Have you talked to Jesse lately?”

“You know I haven’t.”

“You have to eventually.”

“Why?” If Nicole had her way, she wouldn’t deal with Jesse ever again. “Bad enough she slept with my husband. Then she stole the secret family recipe and sold our famous Keyes Chocolate Cake on the Internet.”

Just thinking about it made her crazy. Drew was one thing, but screwing with the business, too?

“It’s just like her,” Nicole muttered. “I bet you anything that if I talked to her, she’d have a million excuses. She never takes responsibility.”

“You threw her out,” Claire said quietly. “She had to make a living.”

“Exactly. She had to get a job. There are dozens of jobs out there, but did she even try to find one? No. She stole. First Drew, then the cake.” Nicole’s stomach started to hurt. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

“It’s not going away until you figure out how to reconcile with her.”

“Maybe I don’t want to have anything to do with her.” Nicole fought anger and hurt. “There was this kid who came into the bakery last week. He stole a bunch of doughnuts, or at least he tried. When I confronted him, he took responsibility for what he’d done. He felt guilty and knew he was wrong. He worked off the amount he’d stolen. He did such a good job that he’s an employee now. Why can’t Jesse be like that? Why can’t she take any responsibility for what she’s done?”

“I know she hurt you.”

“More than hurt,” Nicole muttered. “A lot more than hurt.”

“You two have to figure this out.”

“I know,” Nicole muttered. “I will. Eventually. I think about it but then I get so mad I don’t even want to see her, let alone talk to her.”

“It makes me sad that you’re not getting along,” Claire told her. “You’re family.”

“Not any family I’d want.”

“I don’t believe you.” Claire looked at her. “You have every right to be angry and hurt, but I think it’s time to ask yourself how much of your behavior is about teaching your sister a lesson and how much of it is about getting revenge.”