“She asked me what Beth was like.”
Alex remembered her asking him, too. At the cabin. “What did you tell her?”
“The truth. That Beth catered to you shamelessly and was just a little too selfless.”
“What does that mean, Ma?”
“Come on, Alex. Now you’re being worse than a blockhead. And dense doesn’t become you. I don’t like to speak ill of the dead, but Beth practically cut your meat for you. She was a sweet girl, and what happened was tragic. I’d give almost anything to have prevented what happened to her—and to you. But we all felt like pond scum around her.”
“Pond scum?” he asked, but somehow he knew what she was going to say.
“Yes. The whole family. She made us all feel inadequate. There was just something about her we felt was wrong for you.”
“Why didn’t anyone mention this to me?” He knew what his mother meant. He’d felt it himself, but had chosen to ignore the doubts. He remembered trying to give to Beth and always feeling as if it wasn’t enough.
Flo sighed. “You would have become defensive. Your father and I talked about it endlessly and were just grateful that you had the good sense to put off marriage. I have something to ask you and I don’t mean for you to give me an answer. But really think about it.”
“What, Ma?”
“Would Beth really have made you happy?” She held up her hand. “Don’t say anything.”
He nodded. “But I think I know what you’re getting at.”
He did. It was suddenly crystal clear.
“There’s more,” his mother said. “About Fran, I mean.”
If she kept this up, he would be in so deep, he could never dig his way out. “Let me have it.”
“I told Fran she was very different from Beth. But I meant it in a good way.” His mother’s attractive face filled with regret and concern. “I didn’t get an opportunity to add that the differences were refreshing and wonderful. That I hadn’t seen you look so happy and so…alive for a very long time.”
Bingo. That was why she’d taken to scraping and bowing in the middle of the reception. And it explained the cream and sugar in his coffee, the offer to fetch his cake and drop off his dry cleaning. She was trying to be selfless and giving. She was trying to be like Beth. And then he really got it.
It was the differences that made him love Fran exactly the way she was. It was her unique spirit that made her so special and dear. Did she love him, too?
Was that why she’d looked so devastated when he’d said he’d never asked her to change? Because she’d wanted to hear that she was already okay?
“You’re right, Ma. I am a blockhead. I just hope it’s not too late to fix it.”
With a breaking heart, Fran walked down the corridor to her apartment after a long day of not seeing Alex at work. In one hand, she clutched the long loaf of French bread she had bought at the market. She wasn’t sure what she’d fix for dinner to go along with it. Maybe nothing. Carbs were the feel-good food.
And she desperately wanted to feel good, or at least better. Because in her other hand she held the letter of recommendation Alex’s secretary had given her. Fran had realized in that moment how much she’d hoped that Alex would tell her he loved her and that he couldn’t let her go.
“You’re the world’s biggest fool, Frannie Carlino,” she said to herself.
She stopped in front of her apartment and juggled to free a hand so that she could get her keys out and unlock her door. When she went to insert it, the door inched open. Fear knotted her stomach. Was someone in there?
She jammed her letter in her purse and slung it over her shoulder, then wielded the loaf of crusty bread like a baseball bat as she slowly and quietly stepped inside. Listening intently, she heard what sounded like a muffled curse coming from her kitchen. A male voice. And she sniffed when a delicious smell drifted to her.
After peeking around the corner, she moved forward cautiously. When she made it to the doorway between the two rooms, she instantly recognized the man standing there.
“Alex!”
He turned around and a grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. He put his hands up. “You should put that down before someone gets hurt.”
She wanted to brain him with the bread. He’d hurt her with something far more deadly than that. Words—or lack of them. Almost in a daze, she lowered her arm. “What are you doing here?”
“I need—”
“How did you get in?”
“The building manager—”
“What have you done to my kitchen?”
She looked at the mess he’d made. Several empty pasta boxes sat on top of the overflowing trash container, along with cellophane bags and plastic cartons. If she wasn’t mistaken, the discards had held the ingredients of her original recipe. And again if she wasn’t mistaken, he’d made it more than once.
“You’ve got some explaining to do,” she snapped.
“If you’ll stop interrupting me, I’ll answer all of your questions.”
She set the French bread beside her purse on the counter. “Okay. First things first—what are you doing here?”
“I’m your boss. I came to make you an appreciation dinner.”
The word boss punctured the bubble of hope that had inflated inside her. “Why?”
“By definition, a gesture of appreciation denotes respect and admiration. I respect and admire you.”
“If you wanted me to leave before my contract with the company is up, all you had to do was ask. I got the letter of recommendation. That sent a message loud and clear.”
“I dictated that yesterday, right after you asked for it. My secretary transcribed it this morning, before I had a chance to delete it.” He put down the wooden spoon he’d been holding and walked the few steps over to her. “I don’t want you to leave.”
“How did you get into my apartment?” she asked. Hadn’t he already said? She couldn’t remember. She was losing her mind along with her heart, and desperately trying to prevent that tiny little bubble of hope from inflating again.
“I charmed your manager.”
“I’m going to have to have a chat with Elena.” If her building manager had been a guy, Alex wouldn’t have gotten his big toe inside her place. And what was the other thing she’d asked? Oh, yes. “What have you done to my kitchen? It looks as if you’ve made the same dish twice.” She looked closer at the trash. “Nope. Three times. What gives?”
“It has to be perfect. For you.”
Why? she wanted to shout. She wasn’t perfect. She would never be like the woman he’d loved and lost. Why did he have to rub her nose in it?
She was so confused. “Is this about talking me into staying with the company? Or—”
“Both,” he answered, a look in his eyes that turned her insides the same consistency as the angel hair pasta he’d overcooked in her six quart Dutch oven.
She didn’t want to discuss the “or.” That would hurt too much. So she went straight to business. “I can’t stay with the company.”
“Why not?”
Because it would break my heart to see you every day, to be this in love with you for the rest of my life, and know that you’ll never be able to love me back.
“I just can’t,” she answered helplessly.
He walked over to her purse and grabbed the letter that was sticking out. “Marchetti’s letterhead,” he said, glancing at it. Then he met her gaze with an intensity that took her breath away. “To whom it may concern, Miss Francesca Carlino is the most gifted chef I’ve ever worked with. She is beautiful—”
“That’s not in the letter,” she protested breathlessly.
“—spirited, maddening, loving, and I would appreciate it if you didn’t hire her so she would continue to work for me.”
“Alex, I can’t—”
He ripped the letter in half, then in half again.
“Why did you do that?” she asked, astonished.
“Because I won’t let
you go.”
“I’m the wrong woman. No matter how hard I try, I will never be the right one. You said so yourself. You didn’t ask me to change.”
“Why would I do that when you’re already the perfect woman? ‘Don’t change a hair for me, not if you care for me.”’ He took her face in his hands and whispered, “‘My funny valentine.”’
Then he lowered his mouth to hers. She rested her palms on his chest and gave herself up to the magic of his kiss. In spite of her self-warnings, hope blossomed inside her. He nibbled at her lips, softly, sweetly, until she grew hot all over.
She pulled back, and said breathlessly, “I care for you. But I couldn’t change even if I wanted to. My mother made me see that. And also that doing for the ones we love is a privilege, not a punishment.” She met his gaze. “I had a talk with my folks. Daddy says it’s a guy thing. He wants me settled—to a man who will love me like he does my mother. And someone I love like she does him,” she added.
“Do you love me?” Alex asked.
She saw anticipation in his eyes, the hope that she would say yes. Whether or not he returned her feelings, she had to be honest with him.
“Yes,” she answered simply.
He closed his eyes for a moment and nodded slightly as he breathed a sigh of relief. “Your fetching and carrying act showed me something, too.”
“What?”
“It’s about Beth,” he stated. “I loved her and it hurt a lot when I lost her.” He ran a hand through his hair. “But she wasn’t the right woman to make me happy,” he explained. “She was too perfect. At first I was in awe of that and flattered. I tried to meet her halfway. But with her there was no halfway. When someone gives everything and then some, it’s overwhelming. And…”
“There’s more?” Fran asked.
He nodded. “I realized that I didn’t put off the wedding because of my career. I did it because I had serious doubts. Maybe subconsciously, but they were there, preventing me from taking the next step. If she hadn’t died, we would have played our relationship out. I would have realized it was wrong.”
“And saved so much guilt and pain,” Fran murmured, her heart breaking for him.
He shook his head. “It’s over now. Thanks to you.”
“I don’t understand what that has to do with me. You said from the beginning that Marchettis only get one chance at love.”
“True love. That wasn’t what Beth and I had. The moment I saw you, you brought light back into my life as no other woman could have. Your spirit breathed energy and sustenance into my withered soul. It scared me. I didn’t want to care because it hurts too much when it’s taken away. But being around you, it’s impossible not to get caught up in your zest for living.”
“Really?”
“I love it when you fish for compliments.” He grinned, then his expression turned serious. “Like limbs with restricted circulation coming back to life, my growing feelings for you were like pins and needles to the heart. It’s normal to resist something that hurts. So I pushed you away.”
“What are you trying to tell me?” She held her breath.
“I love you, Frannie Carlino. I don’t care if you hate the nickname. It’s cute, just like you. You’re funny and wonderful.”
“So are you, as much as I’d prepared myself that you wouldn’t be.” She curled her fingers into his shirt, holding on for all she was worth. “I was hiding, too, from the humiliation and hurt of being used. But I don’t need your glasses to see that you’re not like that. You’re what I’ve always wanted and was so afraid I’d never find that I wouldn’t even look.”
He put his hands over hers. “Well, you’ve got me. I want you to marry me. Please say you will. Be my valentine forever and a day.” He pulled her into his arms and held her so tightly it hurt. But it was discomfort she reveled in. “I promise that if you’ll become a Marchetti, our marriage will be a fifty-fifty partnership.”
How could she say no? Her mother was right. Fran could have it all. And the best part was that he was the man of her dreams.
“I would love to marry you, Alex. With everything I’ve got I love you and want to make you happy. Be your valentine forever and a day,” she said.
“Thank God,” he breathed against her hair.
His words put a glow in her heart that would last the rest of her life. Her spirit was restored, along with her pesky inclination to tease him.
“So, you want to make me a member of the family? And it has nothing to do with putting the Marchetti name on my original recipe?” she asked, pulling away just far enough to see his expression.
He grinned. “Maybe. Because I have very fond memories of that particular dish. Your very unique and special brand of dishing out kisses to negotiate is what made me fall in love with you. And so I have very selfish reasons for wanting to keep it—but mostly you—in the family.”
He kissed her again, and she felt that she was the luckiest woman in the world. She had Alex. Together they had found that love was the secret ingredient in their own recipe for happy ever after.
ISBN: 978-1-4268-6767-5
SECRET INGREDIENT: LOVE
Copyright © 2001 by Teresa Ann Southwick
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the editorial office, Silhouette Books, 300 East 42nd Street, New York, NY 10017 U.S.A.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
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Table of Contents
Secret Ingredient: Love
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Secret Ingredient: Love Page 15
