“Then why would you even need an Asian woman in it? That's what I was told.”
The man laughed. “Because my wife wants to make sure we don't forget to include all those Chinese people that are looking for Christmas dinner and she's too shy to even consider it herself.”
Was she getting ready to say this? “I have a daughter I could bring.”
“Wonderful I'll see you Sunday at 11.”
Chapter Two
Front row! They could look down and see the orchestra below. Close enough to hear the toe shoes hitting the floor when a few rows back they only looked graceful and serene. Tara finally knew what the music that was piped into every mall went to. The big Christmas party, Uncle Drosselmeyer, Brother Fritz breaking Clara's beautiful nutcracker she was given, only to fall asleep. Mice playing, rats fighting, the nutcracker coming alive as Clara shrank entering his world and then . . . and then the nutcracker took off his mask, he was a prince after all. The prince was Jake, Jake was the nutcracker. She recognized the little half mask and it was right there in the program in black and white, Jakob Saratov. He couldn't have sent Megan flowers, could he? He couldn't have sent them tickets for the show, could he? They had hardly spoken; he didn't even know her name. Why on earth would he do such a thing? They were strangers. Chinese dancers, Russian dancers, Arabian dancers, Spanish dancers, waltzing flowers, Madame Ginger with children coming from beneath her voluminous skirt, the snow fairies, and the sugar plum fairy and her cavalier. But Tara only stared at the Nutcracker.
Megan impatiently tried to get out of the crush of people after the show ended, unknowing of Tara's disbelief that the nutcracker was Jake. A man she had spoken only a handful of sentences to her had spent so much on a stranger. Tara narrowly missed running into well-dressed people as Megan pulled her along the aisle. They ended up one of the first out into the lobby. A fairytale land in itself decorated for the holidays in red and gold.
“Mommy I want to meet the sugar plum fairy.” Megan pleaded.
“I don't know if they come out here babe. I'll go get our coats and we'll go get dessert.” Tara turned to head for the coat check only to see Megan's request would get answered after all. The major characters were coming in a side door.
“The nutcracker!” Megan squealed when she realized who sent flowers. She ran over, not caring he was talking to a patron.
“Did you send me flowers?”
He leaned down near Megan's ear. “Do you know any other nutcrackers?”
“Mommy is taking me for dessert at Café Mocha.” She declared as only a child could.
The nutcracker smiled. “My favorite is their white chocolate mint cake, but they don't have it often.”
“Do you know the sugar plum fairy?” Megan whispered.
“Meg they're busy.” Tara chastised.
“Of course I do.” Jake took Megan's hand and led her over to the woman dressed all in plum velvet and white lace.
Tara watched her daughter smiling and laughing more than she had in the last year together. With Brian dying on an icy Thanksgiving night, Tara had worried Megan would never enjoy the holidays again. The same way she felt she would never enjoy it truly. It came as no real surprise that she hadn't put up the tree until the day before.
With coats in her hand, she disturbed Megan's laughter. “It will be midnight before you're in bed if we don't get going, Meg.”
“I asked the nutcracker if he wants to come for dessert, mommy.”
“I'm sure he has a cast party or something, babe.”
“That's the last night of the show. I haven't eaten since noon. I was just going to get something to eat now anyway and I hate to disappoint a lady.”
Megan beamed at his words. Tara looked him over, skintight leggings, soldiers' coat, painted face even. “You'd go like that?”
He never looked away but he did smile. “Well, perhaps a little conspicuous. How about I meet you there? If you go now you can beat the traffic.”
“Come on then Mommy!” Megan grabbed her hand and they were off.
Café Mocha was an urban hotspot; café, dessert bar, art galley, coffee house all in one. They had gone often when Brian was alive, their scones were his favorite. It was packed as usual, the line 30 long before them and almost that many after. For years, Café Mocha was the place to go after the theater or other artsy activities. It was after Megan's bedtime even before dessert. She was half-asleep in Tara's arms when she felt a hand at her back.
“I can hold her. She's nothing compared to Clara.”
“I didn't think we'd been here long enough for her to fall asleep before you showed up.” Megan's weight lifted, leaving her feeling weightless as Jake took her.
“Is my little mouse going to be awake for dessert?” Jake asked.
Tara could only stare. It was the first time she'd seen him without costumes or makeup on and the man was gorgeous. Dark hair fell over one deep brown eye and one look made her go weak in the knees as he looked at her just the right way. There was no remnant of a dancer in the man that stood there in a leather jacket, jeans, and biker boots. He looked nothing like the men she'd seen running around backstage either.
“Of course.” Megan murmured but not too convincingly.
Jake grinned faintly. “Seems I should have sent matinee tickets.”
“I can't see why you spent so much on strangers.”
His smile, his smile was beautiful. “Everyone should see The Nutcracker at least once.”
Tara tried not to say it. “A hundred dollar gift for strangers.”
“Tis’ the season for such things isn't it?”
Finally five people surged forward and they reached the food at last, or the desserts at any rate. Megan perked up at the case full of tortes, tarts, cakes, cheesecakes, and truffles.
“I want a piece of that one,” Megan declared with a squeal.
“Turtle chocolate cake, are you sure?” Tara asked, ignoring that several women behind them were staring at Jake rather openly.
“Umm yes. Do they have your favorite Nutcracker?”
“My name is Jake, and actually, little mouse, they do.”
As they made their way down the line, Jake kept getting more food. His tray was full when they reached the checkout, two layers deep. Tara grabbed a table that was emptying, the only one in the place that was free just then. Megan started eating the minute she sat down, even before Jake had finished paying for his own. Then again, Jake sat down and ate in silence, smiling at Megan's ‘yumms’ between every bite.
“Okay, I'm full.” Megan pushed her plate away, half the cake still sitting there. Without another word, Megan curled up on Tara's lap as Jake slowed his own feast.
“I'm getting too old for this,” he groaned after a moment.
Tara couldn't help but start chuckling. “You can't be over thirty.”
He smiled at her the way Brian used to, just before he took her to bed. A look saying he liked what he saw, knew what she was thinking. She knew Brian's look, but was it truly the same, or was she making a fool of herself? All she knew was every look from him was turning her insides to mush. Brian did it with a look, they were so very different men, but they seemed to have that one small piece in common.
“I haven't done this since I was in high school and realized all the girls figured the men were all gay. Two of the male dancers hurt themselves just before I saw you. Alexander called frantic that he'd have to cancel the show. I was one of the few not already in the show that still live in town that he could get on short notice.”
“Then what do you do?”
“And what do you do? Am I supposed to give away all my secrets with nothing in return?” She knew Brian's look, but was it truly the same?
“Travel agent, which means sitting behind a computer sending other people places I can't afford to go.”
“Little touchy about that, aren't we?”
“Sorry.” Tara looked down at Megan almost asleep on her lap. “We were saving up to do all this trav
eling once Meg was in school, old enough to remember. It's gone now. The life insurance paid off the house and debts, but didn't leave anything to live on until I found a job.” She'd said too much. It's what happens when you've not really been talking to real people for a year.
For a moment, he just looked at her. “I'm a chef,” he said quietly. “Which means I cook food for people that I don't know.” His chuckle drew her look; the wicked glint in his eyes left her breathless.
“I should get Meg home.” Tara muttered. Was he seriously flirting with her? It had been so long she'd almost forgotten what it was like. Even more that the man doing it looked like Jake. “It's been a long day for her.”
“When was the last time you stayed up late yourself?”
His grin was far too much of a distraction. How could she even pretend she could have a life again? She was chained to the house from eight onward. “Meg's had nightmares ever since her father died. I've tried baby sitters, no one can console her but me, it seems. She keeps dreaming she's lost me too.”
“You best get her home, then.”
Tara gathered her things and Megan, Jake only smiled before she left. Smiled at her like she was a work of art, a masterpiece.
Chapter Three
Christmas Eve at her parents’ was a trial to bear every year. So much stuff filled her car they could hardly pack it all in. Now that Brian was gone, they could actually do it without the rooftop carrier. It was all stuff they could hardly use, half the time. Clothes that were the wrong style, jewelry she had nowhere to wear, more towels, sheets and socks than anyone could ever use. No matter how much she tried to get them to cut back, it never ended. With Megan in bed, and the car empty, it was time to make some order of it all. A knock on the door stopped her though and she tiptoed through the minefield. When she opened the door, Jake stood there with several bags in his arms.
“What . . . What are you doing here? How did you get here?” Tara stammered.
“They have your address at the ballet school. I asked to send the nutcracker.”
Tara couldn't believe her ears. “Yeah and you just showed up?” His grin did things it shouldn't. That’s why she left early, Megan would have been fine for her to sit and talk. The dreams wouldn't have been an issue.
“The show is over, I don't have to cook for people I don't know for a few days, and I feel like cooking for someone I know.”
“You hardly know me.”
“Maybe I thought you could use a night out, and I knew you wouldn't leave the house for it. I brought the date to you.”
“Date?”
His eyes bored into her. He didn't even have to say the words ‘triple dog dare you’, the look said it all. “You remember those don't you? Where's the kitchen?”
A dinner she didn't have to cook, without a child in tow. She couldn't even come up with any argument. Taking a deep breath, Tara lifted her chin and stared into his eyes. “In the back, I’m sure it’s nothing like what you're used to using.”
Jake only grinned. “Show me the way.” The kitchen was the one room they had redone after moving in. It was small, but well furnished, at least for her needs. The beige granite countertops matched perfectly to the mahogany cabinets, for the price they should. He sat the bags on the butcher-block island, and pointed to a barstool. “Get comfortable.”
“You cook all the time; are you sure you don't want me to do it?”
“Sit.” He ordered and pulled out a bottle of wine. “Glasses?”
“In the dining room, top shelf of the china cabinet.” Tara sat down slowly, still trying to figure if this was really happening. He was right that she wouldn't leave Megan to go out, but for him to show up? A drop dead gorgeous man couldn't have really shown up to make her dinner on Christmas Eve, could he?
The glass he handed her was full, but if she thought that he was trying to get her drunk, he hardly even looked at her before he started going through the cupboards seeing what there was to work with.
“You've a better stocked kitchen than some restaurants I've worked at.” He was busy pulling out bag after bag from what he brought.
“I doubt that. There's never enough counter space. It's only clean because the neighbor is coming for supper tomorrow.” She knew he was serious, though, when he took out a knife and sharpened it on the hone she'd never even touched before.
“So where do you want to travel?” He was looking at her, as he cut fresh herbs without even a glance.
“You're showing off.”
He still hadn't looked at his hands even as he took another bunch. “Is it working? You might not let me stay if you don't think I'm really a chef.”
“I'll throw you out on your own if you cut yourself. I'm not spending Christmas Eve in the emergency room.” It had been a long time since there was real laughter in that kitchen, and suddenly how he got there no longer mattered. There was someone to talk to, and his laugh was enough to seduce any woman. His scent was enough to seduce a woman, earthy and spicy. “I've always wanted to see Nepal, Fiji, Ireland, Peru, everywhere really.”
“I've been to Fiji.”
“Are you trying to show off again?”
Jake grinned as he wiped his hands off. And he pulled up his sleeve, revealing a tattoo. A tattoo? It was clearly of Polynesian design, bold and unexpected just like its owner, it covered most of his upper arm and still more disappeared under his shirt. “Hurt like hell when they tapped it in, I can assure you.”
“You aren't saying you really had it done the old way.”
He shrugged his shoulders as he got back to the meal. Green beans came out next, along with potatoes and some sort of meat. “I didn't see the point in getting one there if I could have gotten it anywhere.”
“You're crazy.”
“I think drunk describes it better. It was half done before I sobered up; by then it would have looked stupid to not finish it. Drink your wine.”
“I'm pretty sure there aren't any tattoo parlors open on Christmas Eve.” Tara taunted.
“Then maybe we can find some other trouble to get into, if that's the case. If you want to help you could snap the ends off the beans.”
How could he do that? One minute he seemed as if he meant one thing, and then something completely innocent comes out of his mouth. Without another word, he set a sauce to simmering on the stove, fried up onions and herbs in a pan. Then he covered potatoes with oil and herbs before putting them in the oven. When she handed over the green beans, they were quickly boiled before he added the onions to them and put them in the oven as well. Only then did he take a drink from his own glass.
“I can't see you being that drunk, somehow.” Why that popped in her head she couldn't say, but she truly couldn't picture him stumbling drunk to get a tattoo.
Jake looked up at her, surprised. “I wasn't, thing took the better part of an entire day to finish. It used to be the test of a man not to cry out as he got them. Saw something poetic in it, I suppose, when I was an impressionable young man.”
“You look like you have dinner well under control, I'll go get a fire going. It was a tradition we used to have on Christmas Eve.” Only after Tara walked out of the kitchen did she lean up against the wall kicking herself for having said ‘we’.
“I'll leave if you wish.” Jake said from the other room.
Tara closed her eyes. Was the man a damn mind reader? “You went to all this trouble and I can't even get through the evening without mentioning another man. I don't mean to, it just comes out.” God, now she was rambling.
“Is that a yes or a no?”
“I might be out of practice, but it will be a very lonely holiday if you leave, and I don't think I can stand that right now.” Now she sounded pathetic. And she had fantasies Jake would walk through the door, and kiss her senseless after such an outburst, but he never came.
She focused on getting the fire started, getting the mess on the floor cleaned up. If she said anything more, she'd probably regret it. Somehow getting the fire bu
rning brightly, it finally seemed like Christmas. Even with a tree up, presents wrapped underneath it, they were the motions for Meg's sake. Some true Christmas cheer of her own was showing up now though, even if just a bit compared to years past. It had always been her favorite holiday, spending time finding gifts throughout the year, tree up at Thanksgiving, Christmas carols on the old record player she kept only for the records from the 60's her parents had long since given up on. With a smile, she realized she hadn't played them once since Brian died. Digging out her favorites, she put one on low to not wake Meg, and started filling her daughters stocking. She began pulling out hidden gifts for under the tree, only there because the man in the kitchen . . . Tara stopped with a start. She had said she had nothing for under the tree and a week later he gave her a way to give Megan a real Christmas and even pay off a few bills.
“It's so pretty, Mommy,” came Meg's small voice, still hiccupping from crying. Tara had sat down to survey her handiwork just a moment before, and Meg only climbed up in her lap.
“Did you have a bad dream?”
Meg nodded as she got comfortable, the tear tracks breaking Tara's heart all over again. Standing at the doorway Tara caught Jake’s eyes as he turned off the lights.
“Thank you,” she mouthed. With the tree lights and fireplace burning, it felt like Christmas at last. Ten o'clock on Christmas Eve, it was about time.
With a change in the music, Tara opened her eyes and froze. She'd nodded off as Meg went back to sleep, but somehow only two feet from her dinner had been laid out on the coffee table without making a sound. It was even complete with candlelight and dessert. Meg was still in her lap, but before she could move, Jake came and took her back to bed.
“So what's for dinner?” Tara asked when she heard a sound in the kitchen.
“Filet mignon.”
“You're too good to be true,” Tara called back.
“How is that?”
The oversized Nutcracker sat in the corner standing guard and Tara could only smile. “You cook, you’re kind to children.”
Nutcracker Sweet Page 2
