The Husband Recipe

by Linda Winstead Jones

  But the sad truth was, he had lost love. He’d not only lost Lauren, he’d purposely given her up. Hell, he’d thrown her away. He’d yanked away what they’d found so unexpectedly, and then the kids had ruined her chance at becoming a cooking star. Together, they’d effectively ruined her life.

  Cole sat on the couch, propped his feet on the coffee table, and wallowed in the silence. Without the normal chaos of his life, there were no distractions to take his mind off all the mistakes he’d made. He couldn’t use his kids as excuses for everything he’d done wrong.

  Yeah, go get her was not so simple. From where he was sitting, it looked damn near impossible.

  Lauren was up at the crack of dawn on Sunday, after grabbing just a few hours of sleep. Why was it that when she wanted most to escape into dreamless sleep, she couldn’t manage? Her sleep had been fitful; her dreams disturbing.

  So she cooked. Cooking calmed her the way cigarettes or booze or chocolate soothed others. She found great solace in creaming butter and whipping eggs, in taking a few simple ingredients and turning them into something mouthwatering. The scent of bread or cookies or cake baking had the power to wipe out the stench of everything else. Or at least move it to the back of her mind instead of the forefront.

  Gradually her heart rate returned to normal, and she was able to think of things besides Cole Donovan. She didn’t want to get out—she was in full cocoon mode—so she had to satisfy herself with the ingredients she had on hand. Butter, flour, cocoa, eggs, sugar, buttermilk…all the basics.

  Since she wasn’t in a time crunch, as she had been yesterday, she was able to make whatever suited her. Another chocolate cake, buttermilk biscuits, gingerbread cookies which were round instead of gingerbread-man shaped, since it was nowhere near Christmas and she didn’t want any kind of man in her kitchen at the moment. Not even a sweet one. There was no way she could eat all this food. She’d make a trip to The Gardens this afternoon. The common area was always a busy place on the weekends, as family gathered to visit. Someone would eat what she’d prepared.

  Oh, lemon bars…

  The ring of the phone pulled her out of her zone. She half expected it to be Hilary, checking to see how things had gone with the producer. Lauren had thought about her editor last night, but since she didn’t have Hilary’s home phone number there was no point in worrying about it just yet. Monday morning would be soon enough to let Hilary know that she’d blown a great opportunity. She didn’t think her editor would care that she hadn’t blown it all on her own.

  She glanced at the caller ID. Not Hilary, after all. She glared at Cole Donovan’s name. “Just when I stop thinking about you, you have to call and remind me that you’re right next door.” She stuck out her tongue and turned away from the phone. Eventually the answering machine picked up. He didn’t leave a message.

  Lauren returned to her newest project. Lemon bars.

  A few minutes later the phone rang again. Lauren checked the ID and sure enough, it was Cole again.

  Or maybe one of the kids. Maybe they hadn’t all gone to Birmingham. Justin had said he and Hank were going, so that meant Meredith was at home. Lauren reached for the phone. What if something was wrong? She stopped herself with her hand on the receiver. “I’m not 9-1-1,” she whispered. But she didn’t walk away. She didn’t drop her hand. This time when the answering machine came on, Cole’s voice sounded through the speaker.

  “Pick up, Lauren, I know you’re there.”

  He sounded annoyed, but not panicked. If someone had been hurt his voice would’ve been different. She did not lift the receiver.

  “If you don’t pick up right now, I’m coming over…”

  Lauren snatched up the phone. The last thing she needed was for Cole to come to her door when she was in such a state. Eventually she’d get over him. She might even convince herself that he was right and she was better off without him. But she wasn’t there yet.

  “What do you want?” Maybe her voice was sharper than usual, maybe she sounded a bit like a shrew, but Cole had basically ruined her life, so she didn’t feel as if she had to be polite when he called.

  “I want you to get ready for company.”

  Lauren didn’t want to see Cole again, not so soon. She certainly didn’t want him in her house, in her kitchen. But here he was…and what he’d done had stunned her.

  “They’ll be here this afternoon,” he said calmly.

  “How?” Lauren asked. “How did this happen?”

  “You’d mentioned his name and I remembered it, so I made some phone calls.”

  Made some phone calls. He made it sound so easy! “Why on earth would you do this? I told you I didn’t want it, I don’t need it, and the guy is a world-class jerk.”

  Cole leaned against her counter, so close to where they’d made love for the last time, and looked at her with piercing blue eyes she’d once loved. It had happened so fast! In love, out of love…

  She narrowed her eyes and glared at him. “Are you trying to get rid of me? You think this will be easier if I’m in New York and you’re here?”

  “No,” Cole said decisively. “Hell, no. If you decide you don’t want to be a reality show contestant you can tell the jerk so. But you won’t lose this opportunity because my kids interfered. If you decide to wave at it as it passes by, that will be entirely your choice.” He waved his hand for effect.

  “I don’t know why he’d change his mind,” Lauren muttered.

  Cole folded his arms across his chest, kicked out one foot and crossed his ankles. So casual; so cool. “I explained to him what the kids did, that’s all. He seems to think what happened is cute, and will make a nice intro for you, a good hook.”

  “Better than red hair, a pronounced Southern accent and a padded bra?”

  At that, Cole looked surprised. “Seriously?”

  “Sadly, yes.”

  “Then he’s a bigger idiot than I am.” Cole pushed away from the counter.

  She wasn’t ready to discuss how and why Cole was an idiot. “He’s not going to want to film the kids, is he?” Her heart jumped a little at the idea of someone like Mandel taking advantage of the children, plastering their faces on television for all the world to see, making fun of them, taking away their privacy…

  “They’re all out of town for the week, staying with Janet for a few days, so we don’t have to worry about that now. It won’t be a problem.”

  “Good.” Maybe some kids dreamed of being on television, but something inside her didn’t like the idea at all.

  “I talked to Mandel on his cell. He’ll be here in an hour or so,” Cole said. “Charm the guy, feed him cake and biscuits, and then you decide. You, Lauren, not him.”

  It was what she’d wanted all along, wasn’t it? To make the choice herself. To be the captain of her own fate.

  As if she actually had any control over her life! She could make plans, she could write neat little lists, she could even convince herself that she was in control. But then someone like Cole—and his kids—came along to shred all her neat little lists to pieces.

  And she’d liked it. She’d loved it.

  She loved it, still.

  “What if I’m not sure I want to leave?” Lauren asked. “What if I’d rather stay here and…and see what happens next?”

  “Don’t turn down the deal on my account,” Cole said.

  Lauren’s heart dropped. He was only helping her out because he felt guilty about what the kids had done, not because he cared for her. But before she could allow her heart to sink entirely into her stomach he added, “I’ll be here when you get home.”

  Cole walked toward the back door. “If you’ll have me. Can I call you later to see how it went?” he asked.

  “No,” she whispered.

  He nodded, accepting her answer without argument.

  “I think you should come over after they leave,” she said softly. “We need to talk.”

  He looked back at her, smiled and nodded. “We definitely n
eed to talk.”

  Was she fooling herself, thinking she saw a glimmer of hope in his eyes? Hope very much like her own; hope that her personal reality was about to take a serious shift.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Edward Mandel and his cameraman, Ben, were obviously hesitant when they walked through Lauren’s front door. Maybe they weren’t sure what they’d find here today. After yesterday’s fiasco they had good cause to be cautious. One good inhalation of breath and they both smiled. There was nothing like the smell of fresh baked goods to improve anyone’s mood.

  “I don’t usually do this, hon—Ms. Russell, but your neighbor was most insistent.” Mandel smiled. “And I have to admit, it’s a great story. We can use it.”

  Lauren just smiled. Half the time she didn’t know how to respond to the obnoxious producer. “Please, call me Lauren. It’s well past lunchtime, but can I get you something to eat?”

  “That’s why we’re here.” Ben winked at her.

  “The woman in Memphis has been signed on, but there’s no reason we can’t have two Southern belles on the show,” Mandel said, trying to sound practical and accommodating, she supposed. He held up one gnarled finger. “But she’s called dibs on the red hair and she doesn’t need a padded bra, so we’ll just have to play up the Southern thing for you. We can make it work.”

  Lauren led them into the kitchen. She hadn’t bothered preparing the dining room today. There was no freshly cut centerpiece, no fancy place settings. Just her warm kitchen, a pitcher of very sweet iced tea, and a counter lined with baked goods. Ben headed straight for the cake. Edward was drawn to the lemon bars. A stack of crystal dessert plates sat at the end of the counter, along with silverware and neatly folded linen napkins. Both men grabbed a plate and started taking samples, small portions of everything she had prepared. They sat at her kitchen table facing one another, a pitcher of tea and two glasses between them. Lauren stepped forward to pour them each a glass, but she didn’t join them. She stood by, in case they needed anything that wasn’t within reach.

  For a few minutes there was silence. The only sounds were smacking, slurping and the occasional low moan of pleasure. Lauren got a great deal of pleasure herself from watching the men, the beatific expressions on their faces, the way they each found their favorites and dug in.

  Mandel had cleaned his plate and gone back for more when he looked her in the eye. “You’re in. Everything here is to die for, you’re pretty enough, we’ll use the story about the neighbor kids trying to sabotage you so you wouldn’t leave…. I swear, I think you could win it all. I wasn’t sure before this, but there’s just something about your story that people will buy into. And it’s not like you can’t cook. Are the kids cute? Please tell me they’re cute.” He plopped back down in his chair, his plate refilled.

  “Adorable,” Lauren said sincerely.

  “When can we start shooting? Maybe we can record a few scenes today. Ben, you’ve had enough to eat. Check the lighting in the kitchen…”

  “No, thank you,” Lauren said, with a slight smile blooming on her face.

  “You don’t want to use the kids?” Mandel sounded horrified. “But it’s such a great hook. We don’t have to show their faces, if that’s what you’re worried about, but…”

  “You misunderstand, Mr. Mandel. I’m saying no to the whole thing. I don’t want to appear on your show.”

  He looked stunned. Even Ben—who continued to eat and did not rise to start checking the lighting in her kitchen—was surprised. “Everyone wants to be on television,” Mandel said.

  “It’s a lovely offer and I thank you for thinking of me, but I’m afraid the timing is very bad,” Lauren said.

  “What do you mean the timing is bad?” Mandel stood, indignant. Lauren didn’t feel the need to point out that there were biscuit crumbs on his silk tie and a smudge of chocolate icing on his chin. “This is the opportunity of a lifetime, and if you don’t take it you’ll be sorry.”

  “I don’t think I will.” At least, she was hopeful that there would be no regrets. “You see, I have a choice. I can fly to New York, appear on your show, and if I’m lucky I’ll be able to teach other people how to cook and decorate and entertain and make a house a home. Or I can stay here and practice what I preach.”

  Mandel sighed, sat down, took a long swig of iced tea that was so sweet it could make your teeth rattle. “If you change your mind…”

  “I won’t.”

  “Why on earth did you invite us back if you didn’t want the gig?” He shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. “Not that I care. There are hundreds of people dying for a spot on my show. Thousands, even.”

  “I didn’t invite you back,” Lauren said. “It was my neighbor who called. I merely showed you a bit of Southern hospitality once you were here.” And proved to them, in the process, that she could cook. “It was the least I could do.”

  Perhaps Mandel was annoyed, but he finished what was on his plate before he stood, reaching into a breast pocket inside his jacket to withdraw a business card and toss it onto the kitchen table. “Just in case you change your mind,” he said. “I plan to have the cast set by the end of the week, so don’t drag your feet.”

  Lauren didn’t suffer a moment’s doubt. She wouldn’t be calling.

  Ben grabbed a couple of biscuits for the road, winked at her again and followed Mandel out the door.

  Instead of calling Cole—as if he wouldn’t hear and/or see Mandel leaving in his noisy rental car—Lauren walked next door. She left by way of her front door before Mandel reached the corner. She walked across the grass with purpose in her step, her destination straight ahead. In a matter of seconds she stood on the front porch and rang the bell. They’d cleaned up a bit. There were no more mangled dolls, no more muddy balls. She glanced up at the spot where she’d hang a fern, given the chance.

  Cole opened the door quickly. Yeah, he’d been watching and waiting. They stood there for a moment, and she had to look up to meet his gaze.

  “When do you leave?” he asked, his voice low and serious.

  “I don’t,” Lauren said. “I turned the offer down.” She smiled. “The producer was quite surprised. May I come in?”

  “Sure.” Cole back away from the door and Lauren walked inside. “Why did you decide not to go?”

  “My assessment of Mr. Mandel is no better today than it was yesterday. I have no desire to participate in competitions that will likely have me preparing meals with one hand tied behind my back, or eating bugs in order to get my hands on a stick of butter, or…I don’t know, setting a proper table with a ball of twine, a stack of paper plates and a sheet of construction paper. That’s not who I am.”

  Cole didn’t smile, even though her examples had been purposely extreme. “Whatever the reason, I’m glad you’re not going.”

  “Then why on earth did you track Mandel down and insist that he give me another shot?”

  Cole glanced around the quiet room, even though they were all alone. Maybe he didn’t want to look at her as he answered. Maybe he was afraid she’d see too much in his eyes. “Because if this is an opportunity you don’t want, it has to be in your control to turn it down.”

  Lauren sighed. “Complete control is highly overrated.”

  He looked at her then. “Not something I ever expected to hear you say.”

  “Not something I ever expected to say.” Lauren smiled a little. “There’s another reason I turned down the chance to go to New York.”

  “And that is?” he prodded when she hesitated.

  “I don’t want to wave at you as you pass by, Cole. I want to grab you, literally and figuratively. I want to hold on to you through thick and thin, through mud and magic potions and maybe even long discussions—one day—about babies.” She held her breath. There it was. She’d laid her heart on the line, she’d even presented him with his worst fear. Babies. Cole could either let himself be grabbed or he could turn away. If she was right about him… Oh, she so hoped she was right…
.

  He moved toward her, cautiously, giving her a chance to back away. She didn’t.

  “I was wrong,” he said.

  She could see so much in his eyes, and if she was reading those eyes correctly this day was going to end very nicely. “Details, please? What precisely were you wrong about?” She tried to hold her ground, but it was hard not to melt when Cole was this close to her.

  “When I told you it was done between us, I was wrong. I was scared and I panicked.”