Sweet Temptations Collection

by Brant, Marilyn

  Her forehead wrinkled. “I…can’t think of anything. Why?”

  Total confusion on her part. Cool, ultra-reserved voice. Not exactly good, but not bad either. He’d have to make his intentions clearer.

  “I’m going to go to Chicago tomorrow, but I’m going to come back up on Friday night.” He held her soft hands in his and looked deep into her gorgeous green eyes. “I’d like to take you out on a date.”

  The eyes got significantly wider, and her luscious lips parted in surprise. But those same lips turned up at the corners, just the slightest bit, in an indication of pleasure at the news. And her fingers tightened in his palms. And when she said, “Oh, okay,” her tone warmed up about forty degrees.

  He grinned and kissed her hands first and then her forehead. “I’ll see you then, sweetheart.”

  ***

  Elizabeth reviewed Rob’s parting line about, oh, seventeen thousand five hundred and eighty-three times between that moment and Friday.

  Why did he want to leave immediately to Chicago? Why did he want to come back after only a few days? How long did he intend to stay here? What was he hoping to do on Friday night—and did his plans also include Saturday morning? Was this a guilt visit or more of an attempt to prove to her that he valued her friendship? And, most perplexing of all, what did he mean when he called her “sweetheart”? A term of genuine affection…or a sweet nothing?

  Try as she might, she didn’t know any of the answers for sure. But she intended to find out within the first fifteen minutes of his arrival.

  He only made her wait five.

  They were at her apartment, sitting a respectable distance apart on the sofa, when he turned to her.

  “Elizabeth, I have a few questions for you.”

  She didn’t trust herself to speak so she just nodded.

  “Okay,” he said. “Here goes.” He fiddled with his wristwatch and gulped some air. He looked even more nervous than she felt, which made her anxiety rise to match it.

  “J-Just say it, Rob. Please.” If it was going to be something unpleasant—like that this was his last visit to Wilmington Bay for a while—she just wanted to get it over with.

  “Remember that day when we were in third grade together and you loaned me your very best pencil and we talked and talked all through the art project?” He looked up at her with bright, expectant eyes.

  She smiled slightly. “You talked and talked. I listened. But, yeah, I remember.”

  “Good, because I thought you were the most wonderful creature to walk the planet that day.” He took her hands in his and they were shaking. Not her hands, but his. “I still think that.”

  Okay, this was going differently than she’d expected. Better, but way, way differently.

  “Um, thanks,” she said.

  “You’re welcome.” He paused. “All right. Let me try this again. Remember how I said that I couldn’t imagine having a whole houseful of kids? That I thought this was a really strange female thing and that Tony’s ability to procreate little Gabinarris was way beyond me?”

  She remembered.

  “Well, I’ve kind of changed my mind.”

  Her heart did a weird little tap dance. She squinted at him. “Seriously?”

  “Yeah. Not a lot of them, mind you, but I could handle one or maybe even two…I think. Especially if they’re half as sweet as their mother.”

  He didn’t give her even five seconds to process this before he said, “And you know how I was really glad to leave Wilmington Bay and live in the big city far away from my dear mama who was trying so desperately to marry me off?”

  She remembered that, too.

  “Well, to be honest, that part is still kind of up for grabs. So, I wanted to know…” He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a sheet of paper he quickly unfolded. “Are you afraid of flying?” he read from the list.

  She shook her head. She’d done it a few times and, while not exactly her favorite pastime, she wasn’t too scared.

  “Good. Are you in any way opposed to leaving Wilmington Bay for a week or two every few months? Perhaps an occasional spontaneous weekend away every now and again?”

  “No, but why—”

  “Super. Moving on then. Could you be happy being the mother of, say, only two children instead of four?”

  A happy premonition she couldn’t name began to spread inside her like chocolate frosting on a hot peanut-butter bar, but she kept a straight face. “Well, that all depends on who the father is, Rob. Now why are you—”

  “I’m getting there. Are you uncomfortable having these children with a man who’s not as smart as you are?”

  “Rob!”

  “Well?”

  Now her hands were trembling, too. “I would only share my body with a man I considered both very clever and extremely kindhearted. Period.”

  He looked pleased with her answer. “Okay, then. Last question. Will you marry me, Elizabeth?”

  “No,” she said without hesitation and watched his expression fall. “Not Elizabeth. It’s Lizzy to you.” She smiled her sweetest smile at him. “Try it again.”

  He recovered after a few deep breaths and shot her a dangerous look. “So, Lizzy, will you marry me?”

  “Oh, yes, Roberto,” she said, again without hesitation. “I’m yours forever.”

  “Damn right,” he muttered, pulling her into his arms and pressing his mouth hard against hers. “And don’t you forget it.”

  “With you,” she whispered, “I never forget anything.”

  He hugged her tight. “Elizabeth, I love you, and only you. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known, and you’ve had a piece of my heart ever since you were a shy five-year-old. I don’t ever want to be without you.”

  She looked into those warm eyes of his and saw sincerity there—an incredible, almost inconceivable truth. And she knew if a thousand women as pretty and tenacious as Tara Welles threw themselves at him it wouldn’t matter. As long as he loved her, she didn’t have a thing to fear. Rob’s loyalty to those he loved beat like a drum in his chest.

  She kissed him back even harder. When they came up for air, she finally got to ask, “Now, what’s all this about flying?”

  “Oh, I’m planning to turn over management of the Chicago branch of The Playbook to the capable hands of Miguel who, along with his new assistant—this Greek-American guy named Nick—” he paused to raise a cocky brow, “are already taking the patrons by storm with a bunch of sticky new desserts and some spinach appetizer thing.”

  She grinned. Nick’s brother Jason would be so proud.

  “And I decided to start a second restaurant out in northern California, in a hot spot I’d heard from a reliable source was just incredible.”

  “Mendocino?” she said, almost gasping out the four syllables.

  “Yep. That’s the place,” he said, making a show of feigning indifference. She wanted to kiss and strangle him at the same time. “It’ll need to be checked up on, though,” he added. “We may need to fly out there a few weekends a month to make sure it’s running smoothly—especially in the beginning.” Then he gave her a serious look. “So, do you think you’re up for it?”

  “I do,” she told him. And she was.

  ***

  Across town, Siegfried Finklehooper and Pauly Carrera were reviewing their books at the shop.

  “They did an excellent job,” Pauly said, noting the increase in profits over the past two months.

  Siegfried read over his shoulder. “Well, we knew they would.”

  The two men looked at each other and laughed. “Those two kids have been meant for each other for twenty years,” Pauly said, patting his belly and grinning at his longtime friend and business partner. “That European idea was inspired, Siegfried. I thought so. Anita thought so. Even Alessandra thought so. She couldn’t believe we’d found a way to hook Roberto.”

  “Ah, well, your sister has a bright son. I know my Liebling will be very happy with him. He’s already brough
t about wonderful changes in her.”

  “Think they’ll be pleased with their engagement gift?” Pauly said, still grinning.

  “How could they not adore it?” Siegfried said, handing the other man a card that read: Congratulations, Rob and Elizabeth! Tutti-Frutti is yours with love… Your Uncles.

  ####

  DOUBLE DIPPING

  By

  MARILYN BRANT

  Double Dipping

  Copyright 2011 by Marilyn B. Weigel

  Cover Design by Kim Killion

  ***

  For my wonderful brother Joe ~ a health and fitness inspiration and an all around incredible guy. I’m so lucky to have YOU as my sibling.

  With love and appreciation to all the dedicated teachers out there. And many thanks to the fabulous members of Chicago-North RWA for your critiquing insights over the years, especially with this manuscript.

  ***

  STEP 1:

  To make a delightful, delicious, delectable batch

  of my regionally famous ice cream,

  “Chunky Cherry-Chocolate Jubilee,”

  you must first gather the following ingredients:

  eggs, sugar, milk, heavy cream, real vanilla extract,

  cherry-flavored syrup, sliced candied cherries,

  milk chocolate chips, shaved dark chocolate…

  and some air-blown kisses for good luck.

  ~From Mr. Koolemar’s Top Secret,

  Kool Kreme Ice Kreamations Recipe Book, pg. 97

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN - DOUBLE DIPPING

  Caitlin Walsh knew good men were hard to find, so she rarely had high expectations. After all, what average American male could possess Cary Grant’s debonair charm, Gregory Peck’s effortless intelligence or Jimmy Stewart’s boyish enthusiasm?

  That’s right, none. So why bother with them?

  But that afternoon, as she sweltered in her second-grade classroom and scanned the new financial director’s end-of-August memo, she realized the average American male had just sunk to a new low.

  Cait rubbed her eyes. “Jenna, please tell me I didn’t read what I think I did. That this is some rotten joke.”

  Her best friend and fellow Ridgewood Grove Elementary teacher, Jenna Murray, crossed the tiles of Cait’s classroom, handed her a pint of premium ice cream and a spoon and said, “I couldn’t believe it either…so I got us these.”

  Cait stared at the ice cream, then back at the memo—unable to speak, unsure of what to do next. With the new school year starting tomorrow, she’d been prepared for the typical changes. But, Good Godiva, she’d never imagined anything this disastrous.

  She tossed the awful memo onto her desk and, despite the excess calories her “full-figured” (in Jenna’s diplomatic words) body didn’t need, she yanked open the pint of Raspberry Truffle Swirl and plunged her spoon into it. Ah, creamy heaven.

  In this tiny southeastern corner of Wisconsin, where the town’s motto was “Sundaes Save Souls” and the local doctors prescribed “two scoops” instead of aspirin, comfort was as close as a grocer’s freezer.

  After a few medicinal spoonfuls, she recovered her voice. “How could this Ellis guy cancel the Harvest Hoopla? He hasn’t even been the financial director for a week and already he’s cutting our favorite school festival?” This was her festival, dammit. The one she hosted. The one her students loved best.

  Her friend dug into her own sweet pint. “He’s despicable.”

  Cait tightened her grip on the spoon. “The children are going to be crushed. The staff up in arms. I’ve already made arrangements with half the vendors and…oh, God, my mother!”

  “It’s real crummy, no doubt about it.” Jenna’s voice dropped to a whisper. “But maybe if we talk to him, tell him how important this event is…the community spirit it builds…maybe he’ll reconsider. Sonja said the superintendent hired him after only one meeting, so he’s got to have a brain.”

  “But does he have a heart?”

  Jenna shrugged. “Who knows? But if he did this, he can undo this. And, if all else fails, we could make an appeal to Ronald.”

  Cait thought of the school’s aged principal Ronald Jaspers. Not a bad man, but not an effective administrator either. “Doesn’t the financial director’s authority in these matters go over Ronald’s head?”

  “Probably.”

  Cait sighed and ran her fingers through her hair, certain the blond must be turning to gray after her horrid afternoon. “Well, Budget Man Ellis has to show up by tomorrow. You’d think the guy was a fugitive. Has anyone seen him recently?”

  “Nope.”

  Other than tidbits their secretary Sonja divulged last week, Cait didn’t know much about Garrett Ellis, but she was willing to bet the elusive financial director was hiding out in a cave somewhere with his calculator, crunching numbers and dreaming up new methods to wreak havoc on their fall plans.

  Another teacher rushed through the classroom door. “Did you hear? Can you believe it?” the usually calm Marlene said indignantly. “What kind of an idiot would—”

  “We know,” Jenna said around a mouthful of Butternut Pecan.

  “Well, someone’s gotta put a stop to this.” Marlene shook a wiry fist. “And where is that guy anyway?”

  Loni, one of the older teachers, marched in from her classroom across the hall. “You ladies talking about the Harvest Hoopla?” She waved her copy of the memo in the air. “I almost had a coronary when I read this thing.”

  Cait reread the memo. “He’s canceling the Hoopla but keeping the Open House Parents’ Coffee. Why?”

  “Who’s running the Coffee this year?” Loni asked.

  “Mrs. McAllister,” Jenna said, rolling her eyes.

  Loni winced.

  Marlene pretended to gag.

  Cait groaned. She couldn’t bear the sight of that school-board-member-slash-socialite Shelley McAllister. Her obnoxious perkiness. Her smoldering red hair. Her evil attempts at sweet talking the administrators during meetings. That had to stop.

  “Mrs. McAllister certainly has a way of getting what she wants. We should insist on getting our way, too,” Cait said.

  “How?” Marlene asked. “Have you got a plan?”

  “Yeah?” Jenna’s grin turned devious. “Forget using the proper channels, is there a way to get rid of a financial director without leaving any evidence?”

  “Sure,” Cait said, enjoying the momentary slide into silliness. “Consider a non-detectable poison. Villains have tried that in countless films. Only, with our nasty Mr. Ellis, some clever heroine won’t be there to figure it out and save him.”

  Jenna chuckled. “Super. Glad to see you’re putting your realistic Movie Channel knowledge to good use.”

  “Reality is for people who lack imagination,” Cait shot back. She licked her last spoonful of ice cream with a ripple of regret. “But it’s hard to do away with someone you can’t identify. We have no idea what Garrett Ellis even looks like.”

  “Too true.” Jenna flicked a mass of dark hair away from her face and grimaced. “Guess it won’t work then.”

  Cait tried to fight the familiar feeling of powerlessness, but it was no use. She had to do something useful. Grabbing the stapler, she pounded the edges of her calendar into the bulletin board. “My mom’s been talking about doing the children’s face painting again at the Hoopla ever since we wrapped up last year’s festival,” she told her friends. “It’s one of her clearest memories from the past school year, and I can’t come up with many activities like that anymore.”

  The other teachers nodded, sympathy etched on their faces.

  “Is her memory loss getting worse?” Marlene asked.

  Cait inhaled and bobbed her head. Damn that Budget Man. On top of the kids’ disappointment and the staff’s frustration, how would she explain the Hoopla’s cancellation to her mother?

  She stabbed straight pins into a “Second Grade Welcomes You” poster and tacked it to the wall with a sense of permanency. “School administrators
are as bad as deceitful politicians,” she muttered, a memory bubbling to the surface of her mind of her politically ambitious ex-fiancé Fredric. The callous jerk.

  She snatched the financial director’s vile memo, crinkled it into a ball and lobbed it toward the trash…missing by half a foot. Well, sports never were her strong suit.

  Loni looked defiant. “We’ll get Ellis to change his mind.”

  “Or maybe we’ll just get him,” Marlene said.

  Cait cringed and tried to tear her thoughts away from fruitless revenge fantasies. She could count on nothing but hard work, which was her life’s salvation alongside ice cream and MGM. But every time she’d played by the rules someone underhanded and conniving muscled his—or her—way into the center ring. She hated to make trouble, but if she didn’t stand firm for once she’d get shoved aside and forgotten.

  Again.

  “You think this Ellis guy’s got any secrets?” she asked.

  “Besides that he’s bound to be an ogre?” Jenna asked. “No.”

  Marlene and Loni shook their heads.

  “Well, I’m going to find out.” Cait pressed her fists to her sides and stood firm, her extra-decisive pose. “When The Ogre shows up, I’ll pick his brain, cunning and ugly as it may be.”

  “You go!” said Loni. “Snoop in his office. Peek in his car.”

  “Exactly,” Jenna said. “Ask some pointed questions and, Cait, don’t be so nice and polite like you always are.”

  “Yeah!” Marlene threw herself into the cause. “Give the creep a hard time. The opportunity’s bound to present itself. Pester Ellis until he’s forced to consider our point of view.”