“Invigorating?” She practically shouted in his face. “Invigorating?”
He leaned down to kiss her.
In moments her arms had wrapped around the back of his head, nearly dragging him back into the bed.
“I have to go. Mama will be waiting to go to the Market.”
“That’s a new one.” Her voice was little more than a whisper.
It was. He suddenly felt sixteen again, slipping back into the house hoping his mama wouldn’t know what he’d been out doing in the night. He really needed to figure out what was going on there.
He glanced at the bedside clock. And he really needed to get going, period. All he wanted to do was crawl back in with Jo, but that simply couldn’t happen right now.
“I have to go. I’m sorry.”
She nodded and stretched languidly, on her way back to sleep. Rather than jumping on that incredible body, he pulled the covers up around her neck and tucked her in.
“Russell left a windbreaker when he was here right before the wedding,” her voice softened toward a sleepy mumble. “It’s on the coat rack.”
The jacket was too long for Angelo. Russell was enough taller that it almost fit Angelo like a mini dress. But it was better than going through Pike Place Market in a shredded shirt.
He slipped out of the condo and hurried downstairs to begin the ten-block walk to the Market.
Angelo’s mama was already flirting with Henry the fishmonger when he arrived out of breath; he’d jogged much of the way trying to make up time. He didn’t want anyone else getting the scoop on him. But Charlene from Maximilien’s was already there, he usually beat her to the day’s best catch.
Not today, she had some incredible looking mahi-mahi set aside and about thirty pounds of steamers in from Penn Cove.
He couldn’t regret the cause for delay, but it wasn’t good.
His mother continued to chat with Henry, then she winked at him.
Perfetto! Now his mother was going to tease him about not coming home last night.
He poked through the various proteins and was considering the shark, but wasn’t feeling terribly inspired by it. Charlene headed off, giving him a cocky salute obviously pleased with her coup.
“Is she gone?” Maria Amelia appeared at his shoulder and looked down the long tiled corridor of the Market to make sure Charlene wasn’t stopping at the produce vendor or the cured meats counter.
“She’s gone, Mama.”
“Good. She’s pretty, Angelo. But not as pretty as your lawyer friend.”
She was pretty. But she’d never done anything to fire his blood. She was also married to her pastry chef and had been for years. However, even thinking of Jo for a moment turned his thoughts to mush. He had to get moving. Turning back to Henry, he pointed toward the shark, but his mother slapped his hand aside.
She led him around behind the counter and waved a negligent hand. Out of sight at Henry’s feet were three huge mesh bags of the most perfect sea scallops still in the shell that he’d ever seen. Beside them, a tub of ice sported some beautiful squid, perfect for side dishes of fried calamari rings.
She patted Henry on the cheek, “He’s such a good man. So sweet.”
Henry beamed.
His mother might make him crazy, but his menu was really going to shine tonight.
Chapter 17
“Five o’clock at Cutters.” Jo didn’t even greet Cassidy when she answered the phone. Just issued the order.
“Uh. O-kay.” Cassidy’s voice was hazed with sleep.
Jo looked at the clock floating on the glass wall of her office. It was barely seven. The morning light was bright enough that the overhead lights were faded down to almost nothing. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t realize the time.”
Cassidy was usually awake by now, but she certainly didn’t sound it at the moment.
“S’okay. Russell and I, we were just, sort of, uh, continuing the honeymoon.”
Great, now she felt even worse. Unable to sleep after Angelo left, she’d skipped her morning workout and come straight to work. She hadn’t even stopped for a bagel and cream cheese or anything else fattening and satisfying. She’d had her usual tasteless power drink and driven to the office. She had to drive to work most days now because she didn’t want to be walking home on the city streets after dark, which is when she was typically departing. Even though it would be the longest day of the year soon, she’d wager it would be a long time before she walked home during daylight hours again.
Muriel would be arriving shortly and the next round of case files would follow not long after. She wasn’t up to facing this day.
Jo rubbed at her gritty eyes and apologized again for rousing Cassidy from her marriage bed.
“Sounds major,” Cassidy’s voice was a little more coherent.
“I…,” Muriel rolled in on cue and dropped a to-go cup of coffee off on her desk. “Yes, it is.” She dragged the words out until Muriel had drifted to her own office across the hall. “But I can’t get into it at the moment.”
“Okay.”
“It’s you I need to speak to.” She felt crappy for saying it that way, but knew Cassidy would get the message. Jo didn’t need Russell or Perrin, it was Cassidy’s level-headed thinking she needed at the moment. And, most of all, it was her former roommate’s reaction she was worried about.
After only the briefest of pauses, Cassidy replied, her voice fully awake. “See you at five.”
Muriel brought in the first stack of the morning and looked for a space to set it on Jo’s desk.
“Someone looks as if they had a great time last night.”
Jo groaned to herself. That was the problem with working with Muriel for five years, she couldn’t hide a single thing from her.
She took the first file of the day and began slogging her way through it.
Jo hadn’t shown up at the gym, not that he’d really expected her to, so Angelo had made his workout short. He’d started with lots of energy, but within ten minutes his body was dragging, within twenty it was stopped. Trying to function on two or three hours of sleep wasn’t cutting it.
He needed to rethink his need for personal masochism. Of course she had the good sense to sleep while she could. She was a sensible woman. But not as sensible as she wanted you to think.
There was a wild streak hidden deep inside Jo Thompson that had startled, aroused, and fascinated Angelo. Brilliant, beautiful, and lethal. When he’d coaxed her back into that power jacket, and just that power jacket, she’d taken absolute control. It was a role reversal he wasn’t used to. He didn’t object, but he’d found most women wanted to abandon themselves to his control. Not Counselor Thompson. In that jacket, she’d climbed atop him and used him until his mind blanked and his body ached. Or had his body blanked and his mind ached? Whatever it was, it had been incredible. Out of the jacket, she’d gone soft and gentle, wrapping herself about him to welcome him in. He couldn’t imagine ever getting enough of her.
After shopping and the lame excuse for a workout, he’d crawled home and sacked out until it was time to go to the restaurant for lunch service. A shower and shave did little to restore his equilibrium and nothing to erase the self-satisfied smile in the mirror. He practically floated up the six blocks to work.
“I hear she’s at it again,” Mr. D warned him when he stopped by to share a morning espresso.
Angelo didn’t need to ask who, nor did he pause to finish his shot before running up Post Alley behind Mr. D’s, dodging cars and slow-moving pedestrians who were plodding up the steep hill, so steep that the sidewalk had bumps built into the concrete to keep you from slipping back downhill.
Once again, a line, thankfully shorter this time, had formed in front of the restaurant. They didn’t open for another hour, what was Maria Amelia doing this time?
Angelo slowed in order to appear calm when he arrived, though his heart was pounding far harder than the mere block-and-a-half run justified.
The patrons weren’t lined
up at the door, they were lined up at the kitchen window. He’d sometimes left it cracked open to let the cooking scents spill out into the alley as an advertisement. Now, someone had installed a small counter that stuck out from the window sill and the window sash itself was slid all of the way up.
He stumbled to a halt at the edge of the crowd and stared.
Inside the window sat his mother. She wore a deep purple dress that clung to her curves and exposed a cleavage worthy of Sophia Loren. Her laugh sparkled out.
A smiling customer left the line and passed Angelo. She bore a tiny cup of espresso and a flaky cornetto, an Italian croissant filled with, he didn’t need to lean in close to see, he could smell the sweet Italian sausage and pepper.
There was no posted menu, just a sign that said, “$3” next to a jar. He noticed that most people slipped in a five anyway and left happy. His mother’s charm was apparently sufficient for the two-dollar tip. Even at five dollars, it was a bargain. The cornetti were large, flaky, and still steaming. The espresso was dark, rich, and served in an amount a little bigger than an Italian portion but not so big as an American one.
He slipped into the restaurant. There she sat, perched on her stool by the window. Her bare legs casually crossed and exposed by a knee-length skirt that rode just up on her thighs. She wasn’t racy, but she was a fair amount too attractive, for even an Italian mother, and especially for his mother. He slipped up across from her and leaned against the window’s wall, pretty much out of view of the customers.
“You’re not going to make much money that way, Mama,” he whispered just loud enough for her to hear in between customers.
“Sweetheart, I am losing you money.” She smiled as if that were the goal.
But Angelo knew better. He left Maria Amelia to charm the next early morning patron after taking a cornetto and espresso for himself and leaving an, “I love you, Mama,” behind. He strolled over to Manuel as he enjoyed the rich sausage in the almost painfully warm pastry.
“Better gear up, Manuel. We’ve got another lunch rush coming.”
Manuel just smiled at him, took a bite of his own, almost-finished cornetto, and went back to work. Angelo pulled on an apron. He’d spent the night with a woman who presented more mystery and fascination after being with her, rather than less as usually seemed to be the case. His mouth was watering for the next bite of his second breakfast. His mother was actually fitting in at his restaurant. And they were about to get hammered by a massive lunch rush.
It was a very good day.
Chapter 18
Cutters Crabhouse was their go-to bar when they needed to talk. Jo and Perrin had met here on and off for years. Then when Cassidy had returned to Seattle to be with her ailing father and purchased a condo practically next door, it had become a fixture in their lives. Whenever someone had a crisis or a triumph, commiseration and celebration were handed out in equal shares at Cutter’s.
The outer bar was lively, as it was one of those places that urban professionals went to see and be seen, which could be very fun. But it also allowed them to slip into the anonymity of the crowd, each clustered in small but very watchful groups, and gain a pleasant level of privacy. Good cocktails, great appetizers, and what Cassidy acknowledged as an acceptable wine cellar certainly helped.
It also sat a block from both Jo’s office and Cassidy’s condo and only three from Perrin’s Glorious Garb in Belltown with her apartment above her store.
Jo scanned the room as she came in the front door, waiting for a couple who didn’t quite understand that they had to keep going down a barely labeled side hall to reach the entry to the restaurant. Despite it having good food and some of the best views in Seattle, Jo and her friends rarely went for a meal, opting instead for the more relaxed community of the bar.
Cutter’s trademark focaccia scented the air with rosemary and olive oil. Garlic of steamed clams and the bright bite of lemon for oysters wrapped around her and welcomed her in. The bright afternoon light shining in from the long wall of windows facing the Seattle waterfront actually left the bar feeling warm and friendly by contrast.
Jo could feel her shoulders easing even as she spotted Cassidy. Perrin sat close beside her, looking much better than the last time Jo had seen her. Though her hair was now bleach-white rather than the Jo-Thompson-black that it had been.
Cassidy spotted Jo and offered a near invisible shrug. It said, “I know what you said, but tough.”
And Cassidy, as usual, was right.
Jo did need to talk to her college roommate, but whatever else might be going on, Perrin was a true friend and would do anything for her.
Cassidy had snagged them three tall stools at a small table by the window. Only about a third of the tables were occupied, leaving a bit of a hush in the bar. But it was barely five o’clock, give it half an hour and the place would be humming.
Cassidy had worn a simple silk blouse and designer jeans with flats, a serious dress down for her. She really was still on her honeymoon, which made Jo feel all the more guilty for dragging her away from it. Perrin wore one of her own designs, again in the pale green of the bridesmaid gowns, but this time as a peasant blouse fallen off one shoulder. The floral skirt showed a long flash of her fine legs and looked great with her simple sandals. Jo had to stare at it for several moments before she recognized it as her own skirt, stolen from her closet, and redesigned to be more updated. She’d liked that skirt, but there was little point complaining about it to Perrin.
Jo searched wildly for some safe topic to start with as she joined them, and landed nowhere near one.
“Did Perrin tell you about the dress she made for me?” Jo needed to cut her tongue out now. She knew it was going to be going straight downhill from this point on.
Jo rarely drank, and almost never finished the first drink when she did, but when the second Honey Citrus Martini disappeared and a third one replaced it without her quite figuring out how it happened, she knew she was in trouble. The Dungeness Crab Cakes, Buffalo Wings, and Steamed Manila Clams in a sauce so luscious they were still dipping it up with another round of focaccia, had slid by just as easily over the last hour.
Thankfully, the dress turned out to be the right topic after all. It ended up that Perrin hadn’t mentioned it to Cassidy. She wanted to drag them all off to Jo’s apartment to see it right away, but she and Cassidy had vetoed that. Then Perrin rescued Jo’s poor lead-in by starting on her idea for a line of custom wedding dresses, not designed as dresses, but designed for individuals.
“You’ll be the Howard Roarke of fashion.” Jo wondered blearily what neuron had remembered that tidbit of information.
“No. First, in case you haven’t noticed because they’re so small, I actually do have breasts. So I can’t be anyone named Howard.”
“You do,” Jo acknowledged. “They look good on you too. Better than they would on Gary Cooper.”
Perrin tipped her head sideways. “You’re drunk. You aren’t making sense any longer.”
“Gary Cooper played Howard Roarke in the movie The Fountainhead.” Cassidy took up the gauntlet and tried to carry it down the field or across the polo ground or whatever one did with a gauntlet. “It’s about an architect who believes that every design must be unique to the place and the materials.”
Perrin stared down at her Cosmo for several long seconds before replying. “But I’m not building buildings. I’m designing wedding dresses. And I’m saying that they need to be unique for each woman. Jo’s dress would look stupid on you.”
“Because I don’t have Jo’s amazing breasts.”
“Exactly!” Perrin flagged down a waitress with a loud, “Hey cutie!” Which turned a dozen or so heads at their end of the lounge.
She was cute in a brunette, clingy-top clad way though Jo would never have thought of her that way. Let alone shouted it out for the whole bar to hear.
“Is it me,” Perrin studied the table, “or did we run out of food?”
“I can fix that
,” the waitress was unflappable.
“Cool, thanks!” Perrin turned back to Jo. “What was I talking about?”
The waitress didn’t even blink before wandering away. Jo wondered what would be coming next.
“Wedding dresses,” Jo supplied.
“No. No, that wasn’t it.” Perrin searched the table again, this time apparently looking for her last topic rather than the next appetizer.
“Jo’s breasts?” Cassidy offered as she sipped her wine.
“Bingo!” Perrin nudged Cassidy’s arm almost tipping them both off their stools.
“So. What happened from, ‘I have no one to wear a wedding dress for’ to an hemergency meeting?” Perrin blinked hard then repeated more slowly and clearly. “E-mer-gen-cy meeting. Nope, not that drunk yet. He-emergency meeting. Hey! That must be it.”
She nudged Cassidy again but harder. Cassidy was better braced this time.
“Jo got laid. That’s the problem.” Then she turned to Jo. “Why is that a problem?”
Jo did her best not to groan. Somehow Perrin always found her way back to the topic, even when Jo no longer wanted her to. Over the first two drinks, she’d come to terms with just having to figure it out herself. It would be safer, easier that way. What part of her had thought that Cassidy, being Angelo’s best friend’s wife, was the proper confessor for Jo’s sins?
“Because it was with Angelo.”
Jo slapped her hand over her mouth, but she’d said it and now it was out in the world. She should have opened with the job offer that Renée was using to make her crazy. That had to be safer than this. Anything would have been safer.
She gauged her friends’ reactions.
Cassidy had gone very quiet. She looked like she did when tasting a new wine. Rolling the idea around on her tongue, letting it build and flow to see how it tasted.
Where Dreams Reside Page 12
