by Lauren Dane
“Now you need to finish the glass piece so I can buy it for that alcove over there.”
She laughed, flattered and delighted.
“I’ve got to run. I have a client meeting in about twenty minutes. We need to have lunch soon.” He bent and kissed her cheek.
“We do. Also, thank you, Calvin Whaley. For buying this piece.”
He cocked his head. “I love it. I loved it before you had finished it. I laid claim to this over a year ago.” He grinned. “So thank you.”
It was those little moments that got her through the times when it seemed she’d never make it.
Turning back to the task at hand, she scrambled up the ladder with the level and the lightbulb she thought would work better.
Levi had loved this building for a few years. It was close to the ferry, but not too close. The view was incredible. He’d considered renting office space here before deciding to have a home office built. But one of the investigators he often worked with had space here they let him use when he had need of a conference room.
And now, three hours later he was hungry and sick to death of his clients, but they’d hammered out a deal both sides could live with and he could be done with this project.
“Will we see you at the luncheon next month?” Jessy Calhoun asked as she tucked a file folder into her bag.
He’d paused at the front doors to say good-bye to everyone.
“The fund-raiser?”
He sat on the board of several charities, including Created Families, which raised money and awareness for adoption and foster care. Jessy Calhoun, the woman who asked, also sat on the board. She and her husband Elton had adopted four kids and now that they were all in college, they were foster parents.
“I’ll be there.” He looked at the art going up in the lobby. “We should auction off something like this.” The light caught it perfectly, creating a nearly seamless feedback between the water and the wall.
“I can find out who the artist is if you like.” Jessy buttoned her coat.
“I can do it. I’ll get back with you about it. See if we can’t get him to donate something.” Levi was remarkably good at getting people to donate things for auctions.
“All right then.” She waved and was gone and he turned back, heading toward the spot where the people were installing the art.
And then one of the workers turned around and he realized it was Daisy. He hadn’t forgotten her name. Hadn’t forgotten the way she’d submitted to him as they’d danced. The warm, solid weight of her in his arms as they’d moved.
Today she wore a red bandanna in her hair, Rosie the Riveter style. With a jumpsuit to match and bright pink sneakers. She wore chunky black glasses and a tool belt.
She sent him a bland smile until she recognized him and it brightened. He felt it straight to his toes.
“Well, hello there, Levi. What brings you here today?”
“I had a meeting here in the building. I wanted to ask—”
“Levi?”
He turned to catch sight of opposing counsel standing on the stairs leading to the conference room.
He took Daisy’s hands and squeezed. “I’m sorry. I have to deal with this.”
He liked the disappointment on her face. “All right then. See you around.” She stepped back and he had to force himself to move away from her and back up to work.
By the time he finished and came out, the art was up and she was gone. Damn.
The work was beautiful. Unexpected as he looked closer and saw the layers, the delicate paper against the bolder brushstrokes of the watercolors.
There was a small plaque that read: #14. Ramona.
He’d have to contact the owner of the building, Cal Whaley, to get the information. Too bad. He was hoping to get the info from the lovely Ms. Huerta instead. It was most likely a sign. If he believed in such things.
Daisy wasn’t surprised to find Mary on her doorstep when she opened after the knock.
“I bring food.” Mary Whaley, her closest friend, held up a cotton tote bag, the kind she always used to bring all manner of delicious treats to her friends’ homes.
“Lucky me.” She opened up and stood to the side to allow Mary to pass. Daisy followed her into the small kitchen. Once Mary put her things down Daisy gave her a hug.
“You busy?” Mary looked around as she put her jacket on the back of the chair.
“I am now that my friend has come and brought me dinner.”
Mary’s smile was fast as her eyes lit. “I’m trying a few new things. I need your opinion.”
“Score.” Daisy brought out plates and silverware. “These wedding-type gizmos or for the supper club?”
“I may have a catering gig.”
“Yeah? Do tell!”
Daisy knew Mary had been trying to build her catering business for the last two years. The food truck biz was complicated. It was impossible to park the truck anywhere but private property in Seattle. She’d managed to work out some arrangements with property owners around town but Daisy knew what her friend really wanted was a full-time gig with far more certainty than the truck.
And, as Mary cooked better than anyone else Daisy had ever met, she wanted it for her too.
“Try the soup first. I’m going to get your broiler working to finish these other things.”
“Is this a stand-up event?” She peered into the container of soup. The smoky scent of curry hit first.
“It is. But the soup will be in shot glasses. Easy to use.”
She managed to find shot glasses. “I’m going to say up front a shot of that soup won’t be enough.”
Mary slid a tray of something into the oven.
Daisy drank the soup and it was better than she figured it would be. And that was already really good.
“This is criminally good. Can you use larger containers?”
“They have larger shot glasses that hold a triple shot. Or maybe an espresso cup. Hm. Going to think on it. I want it to get your senses ready for what’s next.”
Daisy toed off her shoes near the back door. “You gonna tell me the specifics of the gig or am I going to have to beat it out of you?”
“A friend of Adrian’s needs a caterer for an industry thing.”
Adrian was Adrian Brown, their best friend Gillian’s fiancé, who also happened to be a huge deal rock star.
“So cool!”
“It could be, yes.” Mary thrust a plate of something at Daisy, who quickly gobbled one up and groaned. “You like?”
“Honestly, I don’t know why you always look so nervous. You’re an amazing cook, silly. Now, tell me what this is.”
“Figs with honey and cheese on homemade toasts. I worry they’ll get soggy though.”
Mary was an amazing cook. Clever, intuitive, she made art in her kitchen every single day and sometimes the only person who didn’t get that was Mary herself.
Daisy arched a brow and put a hand on her hip as she looked toward her friend. “You’d have to imagine they’d sit around for very long. Which they won’t. I’d push these things so hard. I’m assuming you’ll need me to help staff this gig?”
“Would you?” Mary asked hopefully.
Daisy snorted. “Where else would I be? The money is good. The work is good but not overly hard. I get to sneak samples. That’s all sorts of win/win. Plus I get to see you with everyone excited about your food like they should be. Just say when and it’s on my schedule.”
“Now Gillian just needs to choose a date for the wedding.” Mary’s corkscrew curls were currently being restrained by barrettes and some ponytail holders, but one had already won free at her temple.
“Don’t you think that’s what they’re going to tell us all at Delicious next week?”
Delicious was the name of the supper club Mary had started many years before. At first, and mainly for the last several years, it had been for Mary’s friends. They’d gather once a week, usually on Fridays, but recently it had shifted to Sundays to accommodate e
veryone’s schedule.
More than just a woman who loved to cook who made dinner for her friends, Mary had turned Delicious into a hot secret everyone knew. And everyone wanted in. So much so that people paid a yearly fee for supplies and they’d be invited at random to a certain number of dinners or afternoon events.
Their friends, the core of Delicious, were always on the guest list. But for everyone else, it was an event to get their number called to attend a dinner.
“Yeah, probably. She’s not one for coy, our Gillian. But this guy is good for her. He’s been on her to set a date for the last two months. I can’t imagine she’s going to be able to hold out much longer. Especially now that the renovations on their new house are in full swing.”
“Been a long time for her. I’m happy. Gillian deserves her happily ever after. And it’ll be a great job for you too.” She tipped her glass of cider in Mary’s direction.
“He might want some big wedding with a crack catering staff instead of his new wife’s friends.”
Daisy snorted. “Yes, I’m sure. After one look at Adrian and his family you can totally tell they care about the thread count of the napkins and your china pattern.”
A joke of course, as Adrian and his sister, also a rock star, had multiple tats and his brother ran a tattoo shop. Their friends were a wild assortment of awesome jobs, hair colors and wild backgrounds. Above all they were down-to-earth. They fit with Gillian’s friends perfectly.
“I just want her to be happy.”
“Of course you do. Jules will make the cake and you will make the food. That’s Delicious.”
It had been Daisy who gave the name Delicious not only to the weekly gatherings but also to her group of friends, the sexiest, funniest, most awesome women she knew. Women who were always there for each other. Whether it was to kick someone’s ass to make them straighten up, or to defend and protect. They were part of her family. They were delicious in every way and it pleased her that it had stuck.
Daisy waved a hand at all the food. “This is awesome. More cumin in the meatballs maybe?”
“I was thinking the same thing. Maybe the sauce needs a tweak instead? What do you think of the cheese straws? Those I just made up a batch for because I know your grandma loves them and she promised me some jam if I made her some.”
Daisy laughed. “She’s greedy for your treats.” She bit into one of the lighter-than-air straws. “So good. Oh what’d you add?”
“I used a new kind of cheese. It had black peppercorns in it. I’m going to premiere them at dinner. How was your day?”
“I finished a new piece. Want to see?”
Mary jumped up eagerly. “I can’t believe you need to ask.”
Other than her grandmother, Mary was always the first person she showed her new work to. Daisy knew she’d tell the truth.
They went through the small house to the studio out back. Daisy and her grandmother shared the space, a garage converted to a workspace for her grandmother and then when the time came, they added a kiln and space for Daisy’s mixed media work as she’d begun to truly explore art professionally.
Suddenly nervous, she stopped Mary at the door. “Okay so this is something a little new for me.”
Mary took her hands. “Hush you. Let me see it.”
Daisy pushed the doors open and pointed. Mary took a few steps and halted, sucking in a breath as she took it in. “Wow. This is…wow.”
Crimson and vivid green mosaic created the outline of a woman’s body. Paper and pen and ink gave her more detail. Her arms arched above her head, wrists bound.
“Good wow?”
Mary turned. “Yes. Really good wow. Daze, this is crazy good. Hot. Gorgeous. I love it.”
She grinned and hugged Mary tight. “Thank you. I don’t know. It’s not my usual thing but it…it just came out of me.”
“When the others see this, there will be a fight to see who gets to buy it. I’d try to snag it now but then everyone would whine.” Mary winked.
“I really do need to have more buyers than you guys. Not that I don’t appreciate it and all.”
Mary laughed. “Girl, you think we pity-buy your art? One of these days the stuff we snagged at a bargain will be worth enough to get our kids through college. We’re smart. And lucky to have such a talented friend.”
Pride warmed Daisy. She was lucky in her friends. “You’re fabulous. I’m going to enter it for art walk.”
“Oh! Such a great idea. If they turn you down, they’re idiots.”
Art walk had started as an informal thing some local artists had started five years before and now it was a regular event. Each quarter they had a themed one with specially chosen pieces on display in front windows all over town. Daisy had been dreaming about her work being in one of those windows ever since.
She’d grown up in her grandmother’s shadow. Which was overwhelmingly a blessing. She’d had a great example to follow. Wonderful advice. A teacher, a critique partner at times. Her biggest cheerleader and also her harshest taskmaster.
But sometimes people seemed to believe she was only doing well because her grandmother opened doors for her. They took one look at Daisy, noted her age and wrote her off.
She wanted her successes to be something she made on her own. She appreciated her grandmother’s help and advice a great deal. Never felt a need to apologize for it. But she craved independence in so many ways, having people take her seriously for her work was one of her ultimate goals.
Chapter 3
Levi wandered through the store. Dumb to go grocery shopping when he was hungry, he knew. But he’d been in one meeting or hearing after the next and his fridge was bare. He avoided the frozen aisle, saving it for last when he wouldn’t fall on the jumbo boxes of popsicles like a starving man. Or maybe he would. At least he didn’t have to cook popsicles.
The last week had left him a little ragged. Familial obligations right and left. A luncheon for his mother’s pet project—a program to provide pro bono legal services for survivors of family violence. There had been many just a decade before, but continued cuts to social programs had devastated most and left the very few limping along on triage with long wait lists for women who didn’t have the time to wait.
And then more wedding stuff for Mal. Dinners and fittings. Silly things he could have done on his own but for whatever reason Gwen made into one event after the next.
The thought of his brother kowtowing to the woman for the rest of his life made Levi tired. Malachi was smarter than this usually. She was a beautiful woman, but there were other beautiful women out there. She was shallow and petty. Their mother despised Gwen, which might be part of her appeal to Mal. All in all, dealing with any of the wedding stuff took a few stiff drinks and cotton in his ears to drown it all out.
Work of course. His uncle was nearing retirement. He had no kids of his own so the work was being split between Levi and his oldest brother Jonah. He’d been part of several different meetings with myriad clients to introduce himself and begin that handoff.
It was Friday night and he planned to make some soup and a sandwich and watch Doctor Who on the DVR while he polished off a few beers. And then he planned to sleep until at least ten the next morning.
A fine plan.
The produce section loomed to the left. Yes, apples and some bananas for smoothies. He grabbed them by rote.
Then he stopped dead in his tracks to admire.
A woman in formfitting yoga pants was bent at the waist, peering at something. She also had on a scoop-necked T-shirt and bent the way she was, her tits mounded up at the top of the shirt as he could also see the edge of her bra. It wasn’t as if he was a pervert, but a woman with that much lush beauty on display wasn’t something he’d feel bad looking at.
Her eyes were closed as she held a piece of fruit to her nose and breathed it in. Her nails were done a shiny red and then he realized who it was when she opened her eyes and her gaze locked on his as she straightened and stood.
&nb
sp; “Hello, Levi.” She put the fruit in a brown paper bag and tucked it into her basket.
“Daisy.”
They stood close, just staring at the other. Goddamn, she was hot. In the dress she’d worn in the dance class the week before she’d been sexy and retro. But formfitting worked for her just as well.
“Like a bad penny.”
He had to tear his attention from her breasts to figure out what she’d said. “What?”
“You keep turning up. Like a bad penny. Have you never heard the saying?” She cocked her head and he flushed at the long expanse of her neck, wanting to touch.
“How old are you?” He actually blurted this and then was horrified.
Her head tipped then, her hair falling back as she laughed.
“God, that was rude. I’m sorry. It’s just…” He licked his lips. What the hell did he think he was doing?
“I’ll answer your question. On one condition.”
He stepped a little closer because he wanted to so badly. “And that is?”
“I’ll only answer if you’re attempting to ascertain my age because you’re going to ask me to dinner or drinks.”
He liked how bold she was. Liked the way she flirted.
“But not otherwise?”
Her smile brought out her dimples.
She shook her head slowly. “Otherwise it’s not your business.”
“All right. Point taken. How old are you?”
“Twenty-four.”
Christ. Twenty-four? She was nearly twenty years younger than he was. He needed to turn around and walk away. And yet he continued to stand there. This couldn’t go anywhere. She was too young. Too everything.
And damn if he didn’t want a taste. Damn if he didn’t want to see if that submission she showed while dancing with him could extend into other parts of her life.
“And so?” She blinked up at him with a challenge.
He was about to say no thanks, or still trying to talk himself into saying it when he said, “Can you cook? I can’t except for sandwiches.” He sighed. “What I mean is, I’m starving but I’ve eaten out for the last week except for a family dinner over the weekend. I’d like home cooking but the best I can offer you is soup and grilled cheese. If you cooked well, I’d prefer that.”
