Erin shook her head and laughed. “They’re both characters, Macy and her aunt.” She glanced over Nicole’s shoulder, her eyes opening wide. “Sam!” She waved at her brother, indicating he should join them.
Nicole’s stomach immediately spun like she was on a roller coaster. Not in a panicked, get me off this ride kind of way, but in a this is awesome, I could stay on here for another loop kind of way. She couldn’t recall a time when she’d felt so excited about a man. Affected by hearing his name, psyched to see him, flushed, silly and girly.This was why she’d broken off her engagement, because if she and Tyler didn’t share this in the beginning, what would be left when the newness wore off?
She pivoted to greet the man who starred in not just her dreams but her fantasies too, only to see he wasn’t alone. She blinked but the fact remained, there was a woman by his side. A pretty blonde, her arm hooked through Sam’s. Nicole had to admit, with their light hair and good looks, they made a striking couple, and more than a few heads turned as they made their way across the room.
Nicole’s stomach, along with her hopes, plummeted at the sight, and she now knew what Sam had been about to tell her the other day. She drew her shoulders back, determined to get through this with grace and class. Her disappointment could come later, when she was alone.
Erin hugged her brother. “You two know each other, right?” Erin asked, oblivious to the undercurrent between them.
“Of course. It’s good to see you again.” Swallowing over her unreasonable hurt and disappointment, Nicole managed a politeness she didn’t feel.
Sam’s gaze remained steady on hers, but she didn’t let herself make eye contact.
“Sam, aren’t you going to introduce me?” his date asked.
Nicole forced a smile and waited for the inevitable.
Sam physically felt Nicole’s discomfort, and he wished she would at least look up and see him, understand he wasn’t happy about this situation either.
“Margie, you know my sister, Erin, and this is Nicole Farnsworth. She’s new in town. Nicole, this is Margie Stinson. Her parents are big donors for tonight’s event,” he said, hoping she’d have to look at him now.
“It’s nice to meet you,” Nicole said, her voice sweet, covering the obvious hurt Sam knew he’d inflicted. “That’s wonderful of your parents. It’s a very worthy cause. In fact, that’s how Macy persuaded me to come tonight.” She paused and glanced around. “Speaking of Macy, I need to go find her.”
“Nicole—” Erin called her name, obviously sensing something was wrong.
Nicole had already walked away, but not before Sam caught the wounded look in her eyes, and he muttered a curse.
His sister glanced at him, clearly confused.
Sam didn’t have time for Erin’s curiosity or Margie’s arm still entwined with his. With every step Nicole took away from him, Sam felt opportunity and something more slipping away.
“I need to see to something,” he said, tipping his head in the direction of where Nicole had gone, shooting his sister a pleading look.
Erin narrowed her eyes, suspicion in her expression.
“Honey? I would love a drink,” Margie said, oblivious to anyone other than herself, as she’d been since he’d picked her up.
Honey?
Erin choked over a laugh.
“A white wine spritzer,” she continued. “No, make that a vodka with a splash of cranberry juice. No, a mimosa.”
Just as on the car ride over, Margie talked to fill up space. Earlier she’d discussed her dress, her shoes, and her shopping, leaving Sam unable to get a word in edgewise. Sam thought she talked just to hear her own voice. She didn’t need much in the way of conversation, only an escort on her arm and an ear for her long-winded stories, which was fine with him. Her parents must have catered to each and every whim she’d ever had for her to be so self-absorbed.
“Sam, why don’t you go get us all drinks,” Erin said.
“I’ll go with you—” Margie immediately said.
“No, Margie. The line looks long. Stay here and keep me company. I’m home with a baby, and I really could use adult conversation,” his sister lied smoothly.
Sam shot her a look filled with gratitude. He didn’t miss the mouthed You owe me one. He did and figured babysitting and diaper changing was in his future. Well worth it, he thought, as he took off after Nicole.
By now, the bar area as well as the ballroom had filled up and he focused on searching for a deep blue dress or glossy, long dark hair. He’d noticed her immediately when he’d walked into the room: her lush curves accentuated by the gown, her beautiful smile a draw, at least for him. He found her now, disappearing out the door into the area where the restrooms must be.
He caught up with her in the nearly empty hall. Just a few women were walking out of the ladies’ room. Sam waited until they were alone and stepped up behind her.
“It’s not what you think.”
She flinched and turned, clearly startled, at the sound of his voice. “It doesn’t matter what it is. You don’t owe me an explanation.” She pivoted toward the restroom.
“Don’t. Give me a minute. Please.” He heard the plea in his voice.
With a sigh, she stepped away from the door and led them to a quiet corner of the lobby. With people milling around, they weren’t alone, but at least she was with him. And she was listening.
“Margie’s parents are huge donors. Cara’s in charge of selling tickets for the station, and she begged me to take Margie. Hell, she basically insinuated that the Stinsons would pull out if I didn’t. You weren’t living here yet when I agreed, and even then, I did it under duress.”
Nicole had folded her arms across her chest in a protective manner earlier. She didn’t uncross them now.
His gut churned and acid flowed in his chest.
“Like I said, you don’t owe me an explanation.” Her lips twitched a little. “But . . .” She drew out the word. “I’m glad you rushed over here to give me one.”
He released the breath he’d damned well been aware he was holding. “I wanted to tell you at Cuppa Café when you asked me about tonight.”
“But you got called away.”
He nodded. “And I don’t have your phone number.” He pulled out his cell and held it out to her, determined to rectify that right now.
She accepted the phone and programmed her information into it before handing it back. “Sam . . .”
He looked into her eyes, the blue appearing darker tonight, which seemed to match her suddenly serious tone. “What is it?”
“This isn’t easy to say.”
He didn’t like the sound of that.
She exhaled and his gaze was drawn to her pink, parted lips. He already knew what she tasted like. He knew how soft her mouth was beneath his, what kind of little sounds she made in the back of her throat when that kiss got out of control. No way was she about to walk away.
Was she?
“I moved here to start over, and I left a whole host of complications behind.” Her eyes glazed with the memory of something that clearly wasn’t good.
Sam narrowed his gaze, but before he could respond, she continued.
“What I’m trying to say is that I’m not looking for anything serious or complicated now,” she said in a soft, apologetic voice. “But—”
He wasn’t looking for serious or complicated either. Still, she had something more to say, and he leaned in close. “But?” he asked.
“I do want something with you.”
He grinned at that, everything in him easing in ways he didn’t completely understand. “Good. Because I definitely want something with you. And after tonight, there won’t be any more obligations getting in the way.”
Many painful hours later, Sam drove Margie home from the fund-raiser. Nicole left earlier, after dancing with more single men than Sam thought Serendipity possessed, and because he had a date, there was nothing he could say or do.
That would end after tonight
.
Margie still lived in her parents’ home, which shared a property line with Faith and Ethan’s house on the hill, both far from Sam’s family’s home on the opposite side of town. But economics had nothing to do with why he’d been ducking her advances for years. There was nothing about her he found appealing, not her personality or her looks from what he could see—and hear—because she hadn’t stopped talking since they left the country club. Luckily, the club was closer to her end of Serendipity, and soon he pulled into her driveway.
“. . . and I think your sister likes me, don’t you?” Margie asked.
Sam blinked, realizing he’d missed most of the one-sided conversation.
“Umm . . . I’m sure she does.” Actually, he figured Erin had as little tolerance for Margie as he had.
“Why don’t you come in for a drink?” She turned in the seat so she faced him, her ample cleavage plumping over her gown.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
She waved away his concern, treating him to a whiff of her strong perfume, which he’d already been informed was Givenchy. “If you’re concerned about appearances, I have my own private entrance around back.”
Of course she did. Along with her own stipend, which meant she didn’t have to work. He wasn’t in her social class and her interest in Sam was purely sexual, which was why he didn’t feel bad turning her down. She certainly wouldn’t get her feelings hurt, but that didn’t mean he’d deliberately set out to be cruel.
He gripped the steering wheel in both hands. “That’s not it.”
“Oh, you’re shy!” She reached out a perfectly manicured hand and stroked his arm. “Good thing I’m not,” she whispered in what he supposed was meant to be a seductive voice.
God. He did not want to hurt her feelings any more than he wanted to have this conversation, but the woman couldn’t take a polite hint.
“Margie, I had a nice time tonight, but—”
“Oh, so did I! I always knew if I could persuade you to go out with me you’d see the potential.” She ran her hand down his arm.
He closed his eyes. “I don’t. I mean I just want to be friends.”
“Well, of course, silly. I want that too. Very good friends.” She dropped her hand to his thigh, and Sam jumped so high in his seat his head nearly hit the roof of the car. She made him want to grab for his gun, which he always had on him, he thought, laughing to himself. Though he really wasn’t amused.
He grasped her wrist before she could touch him anywhere else. “I only want to be friends,” he clarified. “I’m sorry, but—”
“I’m offering you everything . . .” She gestured from her cleavage on downward. “And you’re turning me down?” she asked, her voice rising. “Oh my God, you must be gay.”
He blinked in shock. “I’m not gay.” Although gay was preferable to her. “I’m just not interested that way. You’re a nice woman and I’m sure there’s someone out there who can make you very happy. It’s just not me.”
“Screw happy. I have everything I want except sex with a hot guy. What’s wrong with you that you don’t want to give me that?”
Sam stared at her, recognizing that she had more than one screw loose. “Like I said, I’m sure there’s someone out there for you.”
“I’ve always wanted you,” she said, composing herself again.
And clearly she wasn’t used to not getting what she wanted. So when he’d agreed to this date, she’d assumed they could be together. “But I don’t want you,” he said, deciding her persistence called for extreme measures.
She narrowed her gaze.
“I’m sorry,” he felt compelled to say again.
“Fine. I’m sure Rob Burnett will be interested since you aren’t.”
Sam couldn’t think of a better fit than Margie and Rob, the player. He remained silent, and with a huff of annoyance she flung open the car door, not waiting for him to get out or even react, and flounced—there wasn’t a better word for her gait—down the driveway and around back to her private entrance.
Sam shook his head and pulled out of the driveway, glad to have this night over and Margie Stinson out of his life so he could move on to what mattered.
Just the thought of Nicole, looking so damn beautiful in that blue dress that draped her curves, had all thoughts of any other women evaporating as if they’d never existed for him at all.
Four
The morning after the gala, Nicole walked into The Family Restaurant for breakfast. She asked for Macy, only to be told her friend wasn’t working this morning, so she settled into a booth and ordered an egg-white omelet and a cup of coffee. A few minutes later, a woman who looked to be in her midsixties made herself at home in the seat across from Nicole.
“Hello,” Nicole said, not recognizing the older strawberry blonde with teased hair and wrists covered with bracelets.
“Hi yourself.” The woman set her arms on the table and stared at Nicole.
And continued to stare until Nicole became uncomfortable. “Can I help you?”
“Get off my turf.”
Nicole blinked. “Excuse me?”
“You’re a baker?”
Nicole nodded warily.
“Then what I said stands. Leave and nobody will get hurt.” The other woman slapped her hand on the table for emphasis, revealing extra-long, fluorescent orange nails.
Nicole didn’t know what to make of this crazy lady. “Look, I don’t know who you are, but I’m new in town. I don’t know you. I don’t even own a business—”
“So let’s keep it that way,” she said, pinning Nicole with a heated stare.
Nicole grabbed for her purse, tempted to run and to get far away from this lunatic, but ultimately decided to stand her ground.
“Hello, ladies.” Macy’s familiar voice was a welcome interruption.
Nicole looked up at her new friend. “This . . . this crazy woman was threatening me.”
Macy frowned and plopped herself onto the cushioned bench next to the insane woman and forcibly shoved her farther into the seat to give herself more room. “Aunt Lulu, I warned you to behave. I told you Nicole was a friend and that you two would have a lot in common.”
“This is your aunt?” Nicole pointed to the woman, who was now grinning at her.
“Yes, and you two have so much in common, I just know you’ll get along. Like I told you last night, Aunt Lulu bakes pies and cakes, while Nicole said she bakes specialty items, like cupcakes, cookies, and pastries. Aunt Lulu, weren’t you talking about opening up your own bake shop?”
Nicole’s gaze shot to Macy. “You didn’t think to mention this?”
She waved away Nicole’s question. “Because I knew you’d make fantastic partners, but you two needed to meet first. Aunt Lulu’s protective of her niche, but trust me, this is a match made in heaven.” She nudged her aunt again. “Tell her you’re not threatening her.”
Aunt Lulu let out a loud laugh. “Of course not. I had to make sure she could handle me,” she said, an apology in her voice. “I am sweet, I am sarcastic, I am woman.”
Nicole shook her head in confusion.
Aunt Lulu patted her hand. “I was testing you, doll. You passed. You didn’t hit me, you didn’t shriek like a banshee, and you didn’t run. We’ll get along just fine.” The other woman braced her arms back on the table. “Now, ready to talk turkey? Or cakes, pastries, and pies, as the case may be?”
Nicole glanced at Macy. “Are you sure she’s not insane?”
Macy shrugged. “No more than anyone else in my family.”
Nicole couldn’t say she felt any better about that. She thought she’d left true insanity behind.
A few minutes later, she reevaluated her feelings on the woman and her mental state. Aunt Lulu had pulled a fully thought-out proposal from her oversized purse. Not only did she have a location for a bake shop in mind, but she also had a business plan. Apparently, she’d been working on the idea ever since she received a settlement from an acc
ident of sorts at a local supermarket. But at her age, she wasn’t sure she wanted to go into business alone, so she’d been debating on what to do.
Nicole, she’d decided, was fate, or she would be once Macy tasted Nicole’s baked goods. She’d promised to bring some items by as well.
They brainstormed for more than an hour. Nicole added her thoughts, and Aunt Lulu—she insisted Nicole call her that too—promised she’d incorporate everything they’d discussed into a more thorough plan. She’d already been scoping out the old bakery Sam had mentioned to her the other day. She suggested that they each put in the same amount of money and approach the bank for a startup loan to cover other costs, and get started.
Everything about Aunt Lulu’s plan was professional, and since the Donovan family had been in business for years, Nicole had even more confidence in Aunt Lulu and her abilities. Still, Nicole would ask around town about her reputation . . . just in case.
During their talk, Nicole’s cell phone rang twice. Tyler’s name showed up both times. She winced, knowing she’d have to call him later today and make it clear she wasn’t going to change her mind about ending their engagement. She was not looking forward to the conversation.
After wrapping things up with Aunt Lulu, Nicole headed to the grocery store for a major food shopping excursion. Once she arrived back at the apartment and started to put away all her staples and other items, Nicole stepped back and eyed the place in dismay. The cabinets were full and she’d had to stack things on the counters, cutting into her working space, what little there’d been to start with.
As much as she liked her apartment over Joe’s, loved that it was in the center of town and had a month-to-month lease, the tiny space was slowly driving her insane. And she hadn’t been there long. Her old apartment in Manhattan hadn’t been huge, but it did provide room when she dove into baking. Here she hadn’t even been able to unpack her beloved mixer and other countertop appliances.
She’d thought she could make do until she came to a decision about whether she’d get a job or attempt to open her own bake shop, but she was wrong.
Perfect Together Page 5
