Читать книгу Sweet Trilogy - Susan Mallery, Susan Mallery - Страница 18

“MIXED TWO DOZEN BAGELS,” the man in the suit said, pausing his cell phone conversation long enough to place the order, then saying, “I need those numbers by the time I walk in the door. Numbers, not excuses.”

Claire collected the bagels, rang up the order and handed him his bag. “Number ninety-eight,” she yelled.

“Two glazed doughnuts and a large coffee with extra room for milk.”

“Got it.”

She moved quickly and efficiently, getting the doughnuts, then pouring the coffee. She took the money, made change and called out for the next customer.

A well-dressed woman approached the counter. “I want to order a custom cake,” she said. “I’m in a hurry.”

“No problem,” Claire told her as she moved to the counter off to the side. She pulled out the special order book and took a sheet. “What are you looking for?”

“The Keyes cake,” the woman said. “But with custard filling, not chocolate.”

Claire smiled. “I’m sorry but we don’t make changes on the Keyes cake. We have other chocolate cakes we can customize any way you like, but the Keyes cake recipe is a tradition we don’t mess with.”

“Excuse me, but I’m the customer. Your job is to give me exactly what I want. I’ve told you what I want, now do it.”

Claire allowed herself a moment of visualizing the hostile customer covered in frosting and being attacked by flying sprinkles, then she smiled again.

“There are a few things in life that shouldn’t be changed. You wouldn’t want the Mona Lisa to suddenly become a nurse or have someone put a hula skirt on the Statue of Liberty.”

“You can’t possibly be comparing your ridiculous cake with either of those.”

“Have you had the Keyes cake before?”

The woman sniffed. “It’s just a cake.”

“I’ll take that as a no. It’s beyond wonderful. Trust me. My family spent sixty years getting that cake recipe right. So which would you rather have? An honest-to-goodness legend, or one of our other cakes made to your exact specifications? Or you could get one of each and have a taste test. It might be fun for your guests.”

“I suppose that’s a possibility.”

“It would be a great ending for the evening.”

The woman hesitated, then ordered a regular chocolate cake, with the custard filling and the special Keyes chocolate cake. When she’d paid and left, Phil looked at her.

“She’s been here before, that woman. She’s not easy. You did good.”

Simple words, Claire thought, a sense of pride swelling inside of her. “Thanks.”

“I didn’t think you’d make it, but you didn’t give up. That’s something.”

Claire grinned. “You’ve made my week.”

It was only when she’d moved on to the next customer that she realized she’d never once thought about panicking. She’d done what needed to be done. It was a great feeling and one she wanted to have again.

“MAYBE,” NICOLE SAID, as she leaned back on Claire’s bed. “Are you really going to wear jeans on your date?”

Claire didn’t mention they had been Jesse’s idea. “I thought my other clothes were too dressy. These have a dark wash and I’m wearing them with high-heeled boots.”

“Very fashion forward,” Nicole said as she shoved another pillow behind her head. “But Wyatt knows you’re all Park Avenue. He’ll dress up and you’ll feel funny in jeans. What about those white wool slacks. Those are really nice.”

“He’s seen them.”

“With what?”

“A white sweater. Well, ivory. Technically the outfit is ivory.”

Nicole rolled her eyes. “Of course it is. Do you have a different sweater?”

Claire looked through her clothes and pulled out one that was a pale blue with threads of light silver shot through it. “I never wear this one,” she said, half to herself, “even though I really like it. Maybe with pearls.”

“Earrings maybe, but not a strand of pearls. That’s too old lady. The color will be great with your hair and your eyes.”

She held the sweater up to herself and looked in the mirror. Honestly she didn’t see any difference, but she was willing to be wrong.

“Okay. I’ll wear this sweater with the ivory slacks. I have pretty silver heels and a great bag.”

Nicole wrinkled her nose. “That goes without saying. All your stuff is great. You must really like shopping.”

Claire wondered if they were about to get into dangerous territory. “Not really. Lisa buys stuff and I either keep it or not. I don’t really have time to go to stores.”

She braced herself for a sarcastic comment but Nicole only nodded. “From what she said, your days did seem full. Is that your real hair color?”

Claire fingered a strand. “I get highlights.”

“Maybe I should do that. My hair seems really dull and boring compared with your forty-seven colors.”

“It’s about five different highlights,” she admitted.

“It takes forever, but the different shades make it easier as it grows out. No obvious roots.”

“A plus when you’re traveling.”

Claire nodded slowly, looking for sarcasm in her sister’s comment, but not finding any. “It helps.”

Nicole stood. “I should let you get dressed. Wyatt will be here soon and I don’t want you to keep him waiting. Under the circumstances, it would be too weird for me to make polite conversation.”

Knowing she was probably asking for trouble, Claire said, “Thanks for all your help and advice.”

Nicole shrugged. “Just trying not to be the Bitch Queen of the Western World.”

“You’re doing a great job.”

“Gee, thanks.”

When Nicole had left, Claire plugged in her electric curlers. She wasn’t going for some fabulous style, just a little body in her hair. She curled it, applied light makeup, then dressed, fussed with her hair and shrieked when she glanced at her watch and saw Wyatt was due any second. As she opened her bedroom door, she heard Nicole yell, “Get your skinny ass down here. He’s pulling up and I will not act like your mother.”

“I’m ready,” Claire called back and hurried toward the front door.

“You’re on time,” Wyatt said by way of greeting. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Oh. Okay.” Were women usually late for dates?

Nicole hadn’t said anything. “Did you, ah, want to come in?” As she spoke, she glanced over her shoulder and saw Nicole shaking her head and motioning for them to leave. “Or we could just go. That might be better.”

“Sure.”

She grabbed her purse and went outside. Even with her wearing high heels, he was still a lot taller. And bigger. He was also dressed differently. A dress shirt and dark slacks replaced the jeans and plaid shirts he usually wore. He looked nice. Was she allowed to say that to a guy?

They approached his truck. He opened the passenger door and waited for her to move inside. As she brushed past him, she was jolted by awareness and a massive case of nerves.

“Do you eat meat?” he asked. “I couldn’t remember if I’d ever seen you eat any. You’re not a vegetarian, are you?”

She laughed. “No. I eat meat.”

“Good. We’re going to a terrific steak place. Buchanans. It’s one of my favorites. They have great food.”

“Sounds perfect.”

They talked about Amy and the bakery on the drive to the restaurant. Wyatt pulled up in front of the valet sign and handed over the keys, then came around and opened her door. Once they were inside, he told the hostess they had reservations.

Claire liked that he’d planned their evening together. She also liked the restaurant. It was intimate, all rich woods and leather booths. It was atmospheric without being dark, and elegant without being intimidating.

They were shown to a booth in the corner. After they’d slid onto their seats, the hostess put their menus on the table, along with the wine list, then left.

“You look good,” Wyatt said.

Claire paused in the act of reaching for her menu. “Ah, thank you.” She felt heat on her cheeks and was grateful for the subtle lighting. “Thanks for asking me out. This is really fun.”

“Don’t you want to wait until the evening is over to decide that?”

She smiled. “I don’t have to.”

He raised one eyebrow. “Are you flirting with me?”

“Maybe a little.”

“Good.”

The blush turned into a glow.

Wyatt didn’t need to look at the menu. He’d been to Buchanan’s enough times to know what he liked. But he enjoyed watching Claire study the selections. She looked intense, as if her decision had consequences.

He still hadn’t decided if asking her out had been smart or not. He was attracted to her, she was single and sexy as hell. Dating made sense.

Except she was Nicole’s sister and no one he would normally meet, let alone get involved with. A few minutes on the Internet had produced more information on Claire Keyes than he’d expected. She was famous, revered and adored on every continent she’d visited. Critics loved her, fans worshipped her and she’d had multiple bestselling CDs. He was a guy who built houses in Seattle. What was wrong with this picture?

“Would you like to order a bottle of wine?” he asked, refusing to talk himself out of the evening before it had even begun.

“That would be great. Do you—”

Just then a man in a tux walked over to their table. “Good evening. I am Marcellin, your sommelier. I heard you mention wine and my ears perked up. May I offer some assistance?”

He had a French accent that sounded so perfect, Wyatt wondered if it was fake. Before he could decide whether or not to use Marcellin’s services, Claire began speaking to him. In French.

They chatted for a few minutes, before Marcellin excused himself. Claire turned to Wyatt.

“Sorry. I got carried away.”

“No problem. You two know each other?”

She smiled. “I’m into wine, so I was asking about their wine list.”

“You speak French.”

Her eyes widened as if she hadn’t realized she’d slipped into the other language. “Um, a little.”

It sounded like more than a little to him.

“Sometimes I would listen to language CDs on flights. It helps pass the time. Then I get to practice when I’m in that country.”

“So it’s more than French.”

“I speak Italian, a little German. I tried Mandarin, but I so don’t have the ear.” She shifted in her seat as if she was uncomfortable. “It’s not a big deal. Anyway, the wine list is very impressive. A lot of good Washington wines. I like to try local when I’m somewhere, both food and wine. I always order a glass of something regional with my room service dinner.”

“Room service? You’re not out partying every night?”

“Not even close. After a performance, I’m usually exhausted. I go back to the hotel where I eat something light, try to unwind, then go to bed. Occasionally there are dinners with patrons. Those aren’t as fun as they sound. I have to be totally on, which is its own kind of tiring.”

He knew nothing about her or her world, he thought. A few articles on the Internet and Nicole’s dismissive comments hadn’t prepared him for Claire. As she talked about life on tour, he realized he’d asked a world-famous pianist to be his babysitter.

“Who are you?” he asked, without meaning to speak the question aloud.

“What?”

“You don’t belong here. In the real world.”

“But I like the real world. That other place isn’t very fun.”

He couldn’t begin to understand her life. What it would be like to go from city to city, performing at a level only a handful of people could reach.

“I want to fit in,” she added. “I’m trying to be like everyone else.”

“Don’t lower your standards.”

“I don’t think I’m better. I’m just different. I want to be less different.”

She was beautiful, he thought absently. When had she gotten so beautiful? Amy said she looked like Barbie. He was willing to admit she had the long blond hair and even longer legs, but there was little about her that reminded him of a girl’s toy. She was all woman and he liked that. He liked her. When had she stopped being the evil ice princess?

“Why don’t you order the wine,” he said. “Go crazy. We’ll both try something new.”

She smiled with obvious delight. “Are you sure? I can be very free with money.”

“I’m good.”

Marcellin returned and they had a lengthy discussion in French about different wines. Claire flipped pages in the wine book and pointed. Finally they agreed on a local boutique winery he’d never heard of. The waiter appeared and they ordered their dinner. When they were finally alone, she leaned toward him and smiled.

“Did I already thank you for asking me out?”

There was something about that smile—an invitation that made him want to lean close and kiss her. He’d liked kissing Claire. He wouldn’t mind doing a lot more. But a nagging voice in the back of his mind reminded him that he had to make sure they were playing by the same rules.

“You did.”

The wine arrived. They went through the ceremony of tasting and approving. When the sommelier had left, Wyatt asked, “Has Drew been back to the house?”

“Not that I know of. I still can’t decide if I feel badly about hurting him or not.”

“Don’t bother. He’s healing. Pain and suffering might help his character.”

“He’s your stepbrother?”

“One of many.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Big family?”

“One that’s constantly changing. I come from a long line of men who screw up relationships. Most of my uncles haven’t been married and the few that have are going for the land speed record for divorces. My dad recently remarried. It’s his fifth. Drew’s my stepbrother from two or three marriages ago. I can’t remember which one.”

Claire looked a little startled. “What about your mom?”

“She found someone decent. They’ve been together about twenty-five years. But not my dad. I give this one six months.” He leaned toward her.

“The problem with him is he keeps trying. He thinks he’s something he’s not—a man capable of choosing the right woman.”

“It could happen.”

“Not likely. We have screwed up relationship biology. I wasn’t going to get married. Figured I’d try to stop the train wreck before it happened.”

“You married Shanna.”

“She got pregnant. I didn’t have a choice.”

Claire tilted her head. “Actually you did. You could have not married her and still been a part of Amy’s life.”

“Marriage seemed to be the right thing to do. At the time.”

“Because you do the right thing.”

Somehow the conversation wasn’t going in the direction he wanted. “I’m not the hero here.”

“Why not? Shanna’s the one who left. Was it right after Amy was born?”

“Within a couple of months, after we confirmed she couldn’t hear. I didn’t mind being a single father. I guess I half expected Shanna to bolt, what with my family history.” He met her gaze and held it. “You’re missing the point, Claire. I don’t do relationships. I’m glad we’re going out and I’m having a good time, but that’s all this is to me. Casual fun. Sex would be good, but I don’t get involved. I don’t do serious.”

He shrugged. “I might be putting all this out there for nothing. I don’t know if you’re interested. But if you are, I want to be clear about what I’m willing to do and not do.”

Her blue eyes widened. “You want to have sex with me?” Her voice was low and breathless.

“Is that all you got from what I said?”

“No, I got the rest of it. You’re warning me off, for my own good. I totally understand that. But you really want to sleep with me?”

“Why is that a surprise?”

Because no one ever wanted to, Claire thought, lacing her fingers together tightly in her lap so she wouldn’t give in to the need to clap her hands in delight. Wyatt wanted her. Her!

He was a pretty macho, good-looking guy. He could probably have anyone he wanted and he wanted her! Could this day get any better?

She wanted to ask him to repeat the statement again, maybe with a few details thrown in. Like when he’d decided she was sexy and did he plan to make his move anytime soon? But she found herself feeling nervous and shy and went for a safer topic.

“I’m not surprised, exactly. Tell me about Amy’s hearing loss. She was born with it?”

“That’s the theory. She has a small amount of hearing in one ear and almost none in the other. Hearing aids help, but they’re far from perfect. Even with all the medical advances.”

“Like what?”

“They can tune digital hearing aids to the specific hearing loss. Whether it’s high tones or low tones.”

“What about other treatments? Could she get a cochlear implant?”

“It’s possible.” He sipped his wine. “The current surgeries require the inner ear to be destroyed for the implant. Which means if some better technology comes up, it can’t be used. There’s a lot of debate in the deaf community about them.”

She hadn’t known that. “You decided not to go in that direction?”

“For now. Amy hasn’t pushed. I want something better. I want her to hear.” He shrugged. “A very unpopular opinion and one I wouldn’t say to a lot of people. For some, being deaf isn’t considered a handicap. It simply… is. Like height. I don’t agree. I want my daughter to have every advantage. I’m not convinced the implant gives her that.”

“You have a lot to deal with.”

“Amy has more.”

He was a good dad, she thought happily. A good man. Not that she had a huge frame of reference, but she didn’t think she was wrong about Wyatt.

“Spike was asking about you.”

She looked up and met his gaze. There was humor in his eyes.

“Very funny,” she told him. “I’m not interested in Spike.”

“You were.”

Not in the way he meant. She was excited that someone had asked her out. “I don’t meet a lot of men like him in my travels.”

“There’s a surprise. You probably don’t meet a lot of guys like me, either.”

“No, I don’t,” she said slowly, thinking that was a real pity. Guys like Wyatt were worth knowing.

DINNER PASSED in a blur of great conversation and laughter. Before Claire realized it, they were back at Nicole’s house, walking to the front door.

Claire told herself not to be nervous. That the end of the evening was no big deal. Sure, Wyatt would probably kiss her and she would probably like it. Kissing at the end of a date was an age-old tradition.

But she’d never been on a real date before. Not one that involved a guy picking her up where she lived and then driving her home. She’d gone out in foreign cities, meeting at a restaurant or joining a group. Nothing about her life was the least bit traditional.

They reached the front porch. Claire did her best not to look as tense as she felt. She also avoided pressing a hand to her suddenly writhing stomach.

“I had a really great time,” she murmured, finding it difficult to look into Wyatt’s dark eyes. “Thanks for dinner.”

“You’re welcome.” He raised his hand to her face and lightly touched her cheek. “I can’t figure you out.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“I’ll have to let you know.”

Then he leaned in and kissed her.

His mouth was sure against hers, claiming her with a confidence that took her breath away. There was no wondering, no indecision, just flesh on flesh, breath mingling and her heart pounding about a million beats a minute.

She put one hand on his shoulder, while he cupped her face with both hands. He held her as though she was precious, which made her want to give him whatever he asked for.

He didn’t deepen the kiss, probably because they were standing on Nicole’s porch, in view of the neighbors. Not that she cared, but he might. Then he drew back just enough to lean his forehead against hers.

“You’re going to be a lot of trouble, aren’t you?” he asked.

“I’m actually very easy to get along with.”

“Sure.”

He kissed her again, then he was gone. Claire sighed, then floated into the house.

Nicole sat in the great room, watching TV. When she saw Claire, she muted the sound.

“I see I don’t have to ask how things went,” she said. “You had a great time.”

Claire crossed the room and sank onto the edge of the large, sectional sofa. “I did. He’s wonderful. We went to Buchanans. Have you been there?”

“Yes. It’s expensive. He was trying to impress you.”

“Really?” Wyatt wanting to impress her?

“Why are you surprised?” Nicole asked.

“I just am. Are you mad?”

“No. One of us should have a decent love life and that one is obviously not going to be me. So, come on. Details. I want details.”

Claire curled up and pulled a pillow against her chest. “It was great. We talked and laughed. He’s easy to be with.” She grinned. “He wants to have sex with me.”

Nicole winced. “I need to have a talk with that man.”

“Why?” It was amazing news.

“Because saying that is just plain tacky. And you’re my sister.”

“No, it’s fine.”

“Uh-huh. Just be careful. Wyatt doesn’t do relationships.”

“He said that.”

“At least he was honest. How do you feel about this?”

Claire considered the question. “I like him. I just hope he was telling the truth about the sex.”

Nicole laughed. “He’s a guy. Why would he lie about that?”

As if Claire knew the answer to that. “So he wasn’t being polite?”

“On what planet are men polite about sex? Is it different in the music world?”

“Not exactly. At least I don’t think so. I really don’t have a lot of experience with… you know.”

Nicole frowned. “I don’t know.”

“Um, well, men.” Claire held the pillow in front of her face, then dropped it. “I’ve never done that. Been with one.”

She felt herself blushing and wanted to crawl in a hole. Unfortunately she couldn’t escape the truth so easily.

Nicole’s mouth dropped open as her eyes widened. “You’re kidding. You’re a virgin?”

“Sort of.”

“It’s really a yes or no question. Claire, you’re twenty-eight.”

“I know. I didn’t mean for it to happen. It just did. I never dated much. I couldn’t get away from my schedule. I never met anyone and when I did, Lisa was always prepared to make sure things didn’t get too interesting. God forbid I should meet a man and stop playing the piano. I was busy and while I wanted a relationship, it just got more and more difficult to schedule anyone in. Then one day I realized I was in my twenties and I’d become a freak.”

“You’re not a freak,” Nicole told her. “You’re… you’re… sexually challenged.”

“Oh, yeah, that sounds better.”

“It’s not a horrible thing.”

“It is for me. It makes me feel like I’m not real. That I’m only part of a person.”

“It’s amazing,” Nicole murmured. “You’re so beautiful and successful. I would think you’d have men hanging all over you.”

“I wish. I seem to scare them off. Not Wyatt, though. So when he said he wanted to have sex with me, I thought maybe it would finally happen.”

Nicole swore. “He doesn’t know, does he?”

“No, and you’re not going to tell him.”

“I wouldn’t know where to start. A virgin. Wow.”

Claire grimaced. “Stop saying that.”

“Sure. I’m sorry. I’m just—”

“Shocked.”

“A little, but not in a bad way. Look, I don’t have personal experience, but I’m sure Wyatt is great in bed. If you don’t tell him, he won’t know to go slowly, but I don’t think that’s a problem. I’m sure he’s very considerate. You could hint that you don’t have a lot of experience. Jeez. I almost wish I could see the look on his face when he finds out the truth.”

Claire didn’t know if she should appreciate Nicole’s honesty or hit her in the arm. “You’re not helping.”

“Again, I’m sorry. I’m just dealing with this. Here I thought you were having all the fun.”

“Not that kind.”

“I guess.” Nicole smiled. “Got any questions?”

Claire laughed. “About a thousand.”

“Fire away.”