Gray Wolf's Woman

by Peggy Webb

  Josie was caught up in the general excitement, but Pippa found herself standing back and seeing Luke as he appeared to the rest of the world. It was a curious experience, like looking at him down a long tunnel, and she had the strange feeling that she knew him better. He was a man who could give a little of himself to a million people, but not all of himself to anyone. She should have known that long ago.

  He seemed to have inexhaustible energy, because after a brief pause he was off again on the third show, and it was as fresh and spontaneous as the first. Then it was over, and the crowd was streaming out, leaving Josie and Pippa alone in their seats. Now that everyone could relax, Josie took the chance to explore the studio. Ritchie flopped down beside Pippa like a rag doll.

  “Every time I swear I can’t go through it again,” he moaned. “But somehow I find the nervous energy. The question is, how much longer?”

  “As long as the ratings are good, I suppose,” Pippa said, amused.

  “You’re right. Only the public really counts, doesn’t it? That great hydra-headed crowd out there, baying for its pound of flesh.”

  “We’ll just have to hope that Luke can keep producing the goods,” she said demurely.

  “Of course,” he replied with an edge on his voice. “Nobody knows what he owes to Luke more than I do.”

  “I’ll bet you do.”

  He gave her a sour look and went in search of a more appreciative audience.

  In the car, on the way home, she related this conversation, and Luke shouted with laughter. “That’s my Pippa,” he said appreciatively. “Never stood any nonsense from anyone. And he certainly offers himself as a target.”

  “What about your problem?” Pippa asked. “Did it sort itself out?”

  “No, it got a lot worse, and I’m afraid I’m not going to be good company this evening. I’ve got to spend tonight working out new recipes and cooking them myself, as well.”

  “So we’ll help you,” Pippa said. “I can cook you know.”

  “No, really? I had no idea.”

  “If you weren’t driving this car I’d kick your shins. I’ll do the supper. You get on with being the genius of the screen. And don’t you dare hover over me, sticking your nose in. You won’t be driving a car then.”

  “Yes, ma’am!”

  He tried to be virtuous. He and Josie seated themselves at his computer, and before her fascinated eyes he called up recipe after recipe, considering, rejecting, analyzing, amending. But his mind was only half on the job. He couldn’t resist looking over his shoulder at Pippa, moving about the kitchen—his kitchen—opening his doors and drawers.

  “Dad,” Josie muttered, reading his tension. “I wouldn’t if I was you.”

  “I was only going to—”

  “Well, don’t! Not unless you want to be bopped on the head.”

  “Look,” he said, also muttering, “I just want to show her where things are. She won’t understand my plan.”

  “Yes, she will. She’s got the same one.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Mom’s organized the kitchen at home just like this. It’s smaller, but the plan’s the same. Knives here, chopping board there, blender in the cupboard on the right, scales in the cupboard on the left. Same as you. She says it’s how you reorganized Ma’s kitchen years ago.”

  “Really?” He was fascinated.

  “And she goes mad if anything’s out of place. Honestly, you’d think the world was going to end if anything’s just a little untidy.”

  “Pippa? Tidy? You’re kidding me.”

  “Why?”

  “I knew her before you, remember?”

  “Was she untidy then?”

  “Was she unti—Let me tell you…”

  He stopped, realizing that his memories of discarded clothes littering their room were hardly suitable for a child’s ears. “Never mind,” he said hastily. “Look, she’s driving me nuts.”

  “Dad, leave it.”

  “Yes, dear.” He subsided.

  But it was more than flesh and blood could stand. Within minutes he jumped up. “Pippa, not that saucepan—”

  She whirled, eyes flashing, ladle in hand. “Josie, get him out of here—now!”

  “Let’s go,” Josie said briskly. “We’ve got work to do. You need a whole pile of new ingredients, and we’d better go out and buy them from an all-night supermarket.”

  “Don’t think there is one around here,” Luke said stubbornly.

  “Dad,” Josie said patiently, “I watch American movies. I know there’s always an all-night supermarket. Now come on. I’m not ready to be an orphan yet.”

  “What’s this orphan talk?”

  “You seen the way Mom’s wielding that ladle?”

  Businesslike, she scooped up the list he’d been jotting, scooped up his jacket, scooped up his wallet. Finally, almost as an afterthought, she scooped up her father and shepherded him out of the door. Pippa heard their voices fading.

  “You should never take Mom on when she has that light in her eye….”

  “I believe you, I believe you….”

  They were back in less than an hour, laden with bags. Pippa had prepared a meal that could be eaten “on the run” because she knew that once Luke’s creative flame started burning he had attention for nothing else. His charm would vanish, replaced by, “Yes,” “No,” “Hurry up,” and “You’re in my way!” because a man bent on the culinary equivalent of the Sistine Chapel had no time for social niceties.

  She was all set to explain this to Josie, lest she be upset, but there was no need. The youngster transformed herself into Luke’s lieutenant, rushing to do his bidding quickly and quietly. She never forgot where anything was, and sometimes seemed to understand what he wanted before he spoke. When not needed she effaced herself without making a production of it. She was like another professional, so intent on making the finished product perfect that nothing else mattered. In fact, she was her father’s daughter.

  “Josie, where—?”

  “Here,” she said, putting it into his hand.

  “I need another dip—no, two. One spicy—tomato, radish, cayenne. One bland—yogurt, cucumber, crushed garlic, lemon juice.” He was talking to himself now.

  “Tomatoes,” Josie muttered, diving for them. “Cayenne, yogurt, cucumber, garlic, lemon juice….”

  In seconds she had everything lined up ready to go. Luke inspected, gave her brief instructions and returned to the oven. Pippa made notes, but she hardly felt needed. The other two were in a world of their own, which gave her a fleeting moment’s sadness, but she suppressed it. This was just what she’d hoped for.

  At last they were finished. Luke gave Josie an appreciative grin. “I wish I had a few like you working for me, especially on the show.” Suddenly he whirled on Pippa. “Hey!”

  “Luke, no.”

  He seized her shoulders. “But it’s a fantastic idea. I need someone who knows what I’m doing here, and there isn’t time to rehearse anyone else. Josie knows it all. She helped create this masterpiece.”

  “But how will you introduce her?”

  “As my daughter, what else? You’d like to do it, wouldn’t you, honey?”

  “Oh, yes!” Josie was jumping up and down.

  “But only if Mommy says so,” Luke added quickly.

  “Mommy, please, please! Daddy, make her say yes.”

  “Honey, I can’t go against your mother. If she won’t let you—”

  “Luke Danton, you are the most devious, conniving, unscrupulous, unprincipled—”

  His smile took her breath away. “I guess that means yes.”

  “Yes, Mommy, yes!”

  “Oh, all right, yes.”

  Father and daughter promptly went into a mad, leaping dance about the kitchen. Pippa watched them, smiling, and was caught off guard when he suddenly shot an arm around her waist and swept her into the dance, whirling her around and around until she was giddy.

  “Whoa!” he said at last. �
�Hey, are you all right?”

  “Yes, fine,” she gasped.

  “You don’t look so good,” he said, looking into her face, concerned.

  “My head’s spinning. You went too fast for me. I need to sit down.”

  “Okay, but not on one of those high stools. Let’s go next door and you can sit down properly.”

  “Mommy?” Josie said, frowning a little.

  “I’m fine, darling. Your father’s a madman, but that’s okay.”

  Luke still had his arm around her waist, and her hands were clasped behind his neck, steadying herself. It was natural for him to lift her up, announce, “Taxi service, ma’am!” and proceed into the big room, still carrying her.

  “Clown,” she said fondly.

  He set her down on the sofa. “Are you really all right, Pippa? You looked a bit strange back there.”

  “Well, I’m just not used to being spun around like a top by a man who seems to think we’re still a couple of kids.”

  He grinned. “Well, you always did say I’d never grow up. So did my mom, and she ought to know. Come to think of it, every woman I’ve ever known has said it. Can’t think why.”

  “Neither can I,” she said tenderly, brushing back a tousled lock from his forehead. “But it’s only a matter of time before Josie starts saying it.”

  “True. You always did understand me better than anyone, Pippa.”

  “Now you stop that!”

  “Stop what?”

  “You know what I mean. The little-boy charm. And the wide-eyed innocence that you’re doing now. I know all your tricks. You honed them on me, remember?”

  “Only some of them,” he said wickedly. “I’ve learned a few more since then.”

  “Well, keep them to yourself. I’m a respectable middle-aged woman.”

  “Middle-aged, my foot! You’re not thirty yet.”

  “Yes, I am,” she said with dignity. “I was thirty last birthday.”

  “Liar. You’ll be thirty next birthday.”

  He had remembered her age that precisely. She had to struggle not to smile with the pleasure.

  “You are not middle-aged,” he said firmly. “And you were never respectable.”

  “I was before I met you.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Well, there’s no going back to that,” he said wickedly, and kissed the end of her nose.

  Then he seemed to hesitate, his face close to hers, his eyes smiling. Her heartbeat became dangerously uneven as she realized that in a moment he would kiss her, perhaps lightly as he’d done in the studio, perhaps more deeply. And she wanted that so much. She didn’t care about being sensible anymore. All the long, lonely years without him were an ache that could only be eased by being in his arms. His mouth was just the same—mobile, seductive, promising so much that his body would fulfil. Just one kiss. Just one—

  “Mom—Dad—”

  Luke stood up swiftly. At any other time Pippa would have been amused by the self-conscious smile he assumed. Now she could hardly contain her disappointment. When Luke returned to the kitchen, she stayed where she was, trying to believe it was for the best.

  What about all your good resolutions? You swore this wouldn’t happen. Pull yourself together. You’re a mother of a ten-year-old daughter, you’re not a teenager. You’re old enough to know better.

  After a while she got shakily to her feet and made her way back to the kitchen, where Luke was reading the details of the new creation into his computer, and Josie was sampling the product.

  It was late before they finished cooking three different stages of three dishes, but everyone was up early the next day, too excited to sleep. Luke packed everything up with reverent hands and drove slowly to the studio. His two employees were there before him. He was on hot coals as he relinquished his treasures into their hands, and it was only Josie’s promise that, “I’ll keep an eye on them, Daddy,” that reconciled him to the parting.

  “And me,” Pippa said, amused. “I’ll look after them, too. Of course, I know I’m not up to Josie’s standard, but—”

  “Sorry. Yes, please go with them, explain what’s what. I’ll go and have a word with Ritchie.”

  As Pippa joined the little party marching in solemn procession to the kitchen, Ritchie bore down on Luke, all flags flying. “I just know these are going to be the best shows ever,” he declared. “Sure you had some problems with new dishes, but I just know you’re going to tell me it’s all sorted out.”

  “You mean you’re scared I’m not,” Luke said, reading this accurately. “No sweat, Ritchie. I invented two completely new recipes, with Josie’s help.”

  “Why, isn’t that sweet!” Ritchie seemed almost overwhelmed.

  “I knew you’d love it. You’re going to love the next bit even more. Josie comes on the show with me—star billing for the day. The next generation.”

  “The next—” Ritchie blanched. “You mean you’re going to tell people she’s your kid?”

  “Sure I’m going to tell them. What’s the point of having a kid if nobody knows?”

  “Well, pardon me, but nobody has known for the past few years. I don’t recall your rushing to tell the world that you had a growing daughter.”

  “Well, I’m telling the world now. It’s a wonderful idea.”

  “I don’t think so. I really don’t think so.”

  “She’s going to wear an apron and chef’s hat that match mine, and she’ll look great in them.”

  Ritchie took a deep breath and rallied his forces. His smile was ghastly. “Luke, baby, the chicks like to think you’re available, know what I mean? Okay, we’re all unmarried fathers these days—”

  “You, Ritch? Surely not?”

  Ritchie gulped. “You’d be surprised at some of the guys I could tell you about. But,” he added, rushing on before Luke could make an issue of it, “we don’t have to parade it. You’ve got a reputation as a stud, and you’ve got to play up to it. When they eat your dishes, the guys tell themselves they can have a wild sex life like Luke Danton, and the chicks feel they’ve got Luke Danton in bed with them. I’ve seen some of those hot e-mails you get. And then you come out with a kid? It spoils your image. Get real. Get rid!”

  For the first time it occurred to Luke that he actively disliked Ritchie. In a colder voice than the producer had ever heard him use before he said, “It’s lucky for you that Josie’s out of earshot, because if she’d heard that, you’d be in big trouble. She is my daughter, and she is coming on the show with me. Got it?”

  “Got it, got it!” Ritchie said.

  “Plus I want to change the running order. This show goes out first.”

  “But that’s the day after tomorrow.”

  “Right. That way she’ll get to see it before she leaves.”

  Hope gleamed in the producer’s eye. “She’s leaving?”

  “Just do it, Ritch. And get it perfect.”

  “Yes, yes, whatever you say. Get it perfect, put it on first. Tell all the world. Watch the ratings slump. Cut your throat. Oh, God, I wish I was dead! Derek, my inhaler!”

  Chapter Seven

  Josie was a smash on the show. She had one moment of camera nerves, but her father’s arm about her shoulders solved that. Luke introduced her proudly, and then they were off.

  Each show was shot in over an hour, and then the best bits edited into half an hour. For the first forty minutes everything went swimmingly. They made the dips together, Luke the spicy one, Josie the bland one, but then disaster struck. Luke indicated to Josie to move both dips to another area. She lifted his first but her fingers were slippery. The next moment it had fallen to the floor with a crash. Luke surveyed the mess and a grin took over his face.

  “Whoops!” he said.

  “Sorry, Daddy!”

  He tweaked her hair. “You will be. You’re going to make the replacement. Come on, tiger, you can do it. Remember what I showed you.”

  She nodded and eagerly began assembling the ingredients, while the assi
stants scrabbled on the floor, cleaning up the mess. Everyone in the studio became intent on Josie, who frowned with concentration, hesitating until Luke said quietly, “That one,” then going on confidently. He prompted her once more, and then she swept to the finish with an air of triumph, and her father led the applause. At the end of the show they took their bows together.

  Ritchie was almost sobbing with delight. “Wonderful! Wonderful! We’ll keep that bit in the show. They’ll love it.”

  “You’re singing a different tune,” Luke observed wryly, but after that he let Ritchie off the hook.

  Father and daughter were euphoric all the way home and for the rest of the evening. A stills photographer had taken shot after shot of them that morning and had a set ready before they left the studio. At soon as they reached home Luke got to work scanning the best pictures into his computer and using them to update the Web site. Supper was Pippa’s task, and for once she was able to enjoy herself in Luke’s kitchen without him hovering nervously over her, since he was totally absorbed in writing new text, advertising the next show as the best ever, with a new star.

  Josie eagerly offered her help, and was thrilled at the result. But the day had tired her, and she made no protest when Pippa said it was bedtime. Luke came in with them and tucked her in.

  “Did you have a good time today, honey?”

  “Oh, Dad, it was the best! Do you think I could be a TV star?”

  “My girl can be anything she wants to be. Just name it.”

  She considered. “I can’t decide whether I want to be the greatest cook in the world, or the greatest TV star in the world, but maybe I’ll be both—like you.”

  He grinned. “Keep going. I can take a lot of that.”

  He kissed her and joined Pippa in the doorway, slipping his arm about her before they left the room. She noticed that his smile faded at once.

  “Is something the matter, Luke?”

  He drew her away from Josie’s door, and into the big room. “I’m thinking about a phone call I’ve got to make. My folks always watch the show, and if Josie’s going to appear the day after tomorrow—” He floundered into silence, the picture of guilt.