by Jeannie Watt
He hadn’t seemed wild about going out with her. Why he was hesitating after that hot kiss, she had no idea, and if he’d been any other guy, she probably would have backed off.
But Justin made her curious.
CHAPTER SEVEN
JUST A SIMPLE DATE. Nothing more. Layla was no different than any other woman he’d dated. They’d have some fun, go their separate ways. She knew that. He knew that.
So why did he feel so unsettled at the prospect of going out with her for real? As in a planned date? Even if it would distract Eden.
He wasn’t going to experiment on Layla.
Justin drove to the kitchen and carted his cake supplies inside, thinking life was easier when he became involved with women he liked and found sexy, but didn’t have any kind of strong feelings for—even if those feelings were only protective brotherly ones.
Brotherly. Ha. Nice try.
Okay. Not brotherly. But protective.
And who was he protecting her from? Himself. Because he would only let himself get so close to people before he backed off, and doing that with Layla might be messier than it had been in his other relationships. They had a history.
But on the other hand, Layla was a grown woman who could take care of herself. He’d be up-front about his limitations going in. Honesty was the best policy....
Ha! Who was he to talk about honesty?
Not a simple situation.
Reggie was in the office and Eden at the stove. Patty, his trusted aide-de-camp, was in the pastry room, frosting a cake that he should have started working on a half hour ago—and would have, had it not been for the emergency at the lodge hall.
“What took you so long?” Eden asked over her shoulder.
“They dropped something on the cake. I had to go back and fix it.”
She grimaced and turned back to the stove. Patty, on the other hand, put down her spatula and pulled a note card from the pocket of her starched apron.
Justin set his box of supplies on the counter and waited for the rundown. Patty was in her mid-forties, no-nonsense, strict in her habits and totally devoted to him getting his cakes out on time. And she was very afraid that when she went to have surgery, he and his sisters would hire a temp they found more efficient than her.
“This morning I got a call from the planner for the Lawrence wedding, who wants a call back regarding the color of the flowers on the cake topper....”
Justin listened and nodded at the appropriate times, until Patty handed him the note card, which he placed in his own pocket.
“Thanks, Patty. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
She gave a satisfied nod, picked up her spatula and went back to work, leaving Justin to wash his utensils and continue his Layla debate.
LAYLA HAD, WITHOUT A DOUBT, the most boring closet this side of a boarding school. Slacks, blouses, skirts. A few T-shirts for working around the house. The black silk cocktail dress she’d worn on that life-altering night up at Lake Tahoe.
She was getting sick and tired of looking like an escapee from an L.L. Bean catalog. Not that there was anything wrong with Bean, but she wanted to look a bit more Victoria’s Secret. In a sedate kind of way. And without spending a lot of money. Or any money.
She punched number two on her phone. Sam answered almost immediately. “What’s up?” she asked on a yawn.
“I need a dress for a date. Do you have anything that’ll work for me?”
“Are you going out with Justin?”
“I’m looking for some fun.” And a bit of seduction. Perhaps even something more, in the future.
Right now she was happy with rebound, but as she’d reflected over the kitchen incident, she’d realized there were things about Justin that she found very attractive now that he’d matured. Things other than his nicely muscled body and handsome face.
“Fun is a reasonable goal,” Sam allowed.
“And you’ve got to admit that Justin knows how to have fun.” Plus, he was pretty good with a piping bag. “So do you have anything that’s not pornographic?”
“Ye-e-s,” Sam said in a “duh” tone of voice. Layla could just picture the withering expression on her sister’s face. “Tell you what. Bring me something to eat and we can go through my closet.”
“Just part of it. I don’t have time for the whole thing.”
“I’ll pull out some possibilities before you get here.”
“Thanks, Sam.”
Before she hung up, Sam said, “You know, if you’re looking for fun, my friend Willie—”
“I don’t think so,” Layla said rapidly. Willie was an attractive man, but had the unfortunate habit of humming or singing whenever the urge hit him.
“See you in a few.” Layla hung up and went for her jacket, hoping her sister had something that didn’t look like she was about to turn a trick or attend a midnight Druid ritual.
Forty-five minutes later, Sam was fed and Layla was contemplating the two-foot-high pile of dresses on her bed.
“Wow. Do you wear all these?”
“At least once.” Sam shrugged. “A girl has to have a hobby,” she said as she lifted the dress on top. “I’m still working on you and Justin dating.”
“Not dating. Just going out.”
Sam held the green dress with the silver gauze overlay against her chest, spreading the skirt with one hand.
“Possible,” Layla said.
Sam laid the dress over a chair and then lifted what looked like a spangled red tube, about four inches wide.
“No.”
“You need to see it on. I have this velvet cape that goes over it.”
“No capes.”
Sam shrugged and put it back in the small space she’d cleared in her jammed closet—one of two. The next dress was black and shimmery. Layla didn’t feel like shimmering. The one after that was iridescent blue, with a neckline that went almost to the hem.
“This one wasn’t supposed to be in here,” Sam said. “Not a Justin dress.”
“Are you sure it really is a dress?” And what did her sister mean, not a Justin dress? It looked perfect for what Layla had in mind.
“You wear a lace tube under it,” Sam explained. “But guys really like it when you don’t.”
“Oh, I can imagine.” After a brief moment, she said, “Why are you so weird about me and Justin?”
“Because it is weird?” She held up a pink, fluttery dress that reminded Layla of the eighties.
“Pass.”
“You’re a hard sell, girl.”
“I need something tasteful, but daring in a sedate way.”
“You mean boringly daring?”
Layla laughed and stretched her arms over her head, taking the kinks out of her back. Funny how she didn’t have those stress backaches anymore. “I guess.”
“I happen to have, in this stack, my latest boringly daring number.” Sam pulled a dark green dress from near the bottom of the pile, stretching the fabric until it came free, and held it up.
“No.”
“Try it on.”
“It’s—”
“Try. It. On.” Sam shoved the hanger at her. Layla took it, laid it over the zebra chair next to her and peeled out of her khakis and blouse.
“Dear heavens,” Sam said. “Where do you buy your underwear?”
Layla rolled her eyes. “Not at your place, obviously.”
“Well, I’ll be sending some samples over for you to try.”
Layla looked down at her totally fine underwear. It wasn’t as if she was wearing granny panties. Beige cotton bikini and bra. She happened to like cotton. She looked back up at her sister. “I cannot be the only woman on this planet who hates the feel of a thong up her…well, you know.”
“Whatever.” Sam handed her the dress and Layla looked it over for a moment before Sam said, “Just put it on over your head.”
Layla lifted her arms and did so, smoothing the elasticized ruching as she tugged the heavy jersey fabric downward. The dre
ss clung, but didn’t squeeze. She glanced up at the mirror, surprised that she didn’t look like a sausage, as she’d anticipated. The bodice dipped low in a V and the body clung to her torso and hips, where the skirt fell away in deep folds.
Yes. This would do.
Sam was smiling her superior smile as she leaned against the bedpost. “Told you,” she said.
“Have you worn this?” Layla asked.
“Haven’t had the chance, and now I’ll never get to because I’m giving it to you.”
Layla half turned, enjoying the feel of the jersey as it swirled around her legs. “Thank you, Sam. I accept.”
“Great. Then maybe you can help me get these class reunion people off my back. I’ve finally figured out what’s going on. There aren’t that many of us left in town and I’m one of the lucky few.”
“Justin’s still in town.”
“Maybe I’ll sic them on him. They said they’re looking for someone artistic to help with the dinner dance decorations.”
“Well, you are artsy, Sam.”
“I don’t know,” she said. “David Heinz wouldn’t even look at me in high school, refused to acknowledge me as a person, and now he needs my artistic skills.”
“People change,” Layla said. She had firsthand evidence of that. She’d changed. Justin had changed. “And you can always keep saying no.”
“Easier said than done. This guy is persistent.”
“And so are you. I have the utmost faith in your ability to persevere.”
“At least one of us does,” Sam said wearily. She picked up a dress and put it on a hanger. “Want to help me restore order?”
“You bet.” It was the least she could do after scoring a gorgeous dress and refusing to help her sister with the reunion storm troopers.
THE SITUATION WITH LAYLA was driving Justin nuts. On the one hand, being a guy, he wanted to sleep with her, wanted to explore the unexpected chemistry between them. On the other hand, after hours of trying to convince himself otherwise, he knew that he couldn’t just have sex with her a few times, then walk away. Not with Layla.
She’d want a reason as to why they were ending things—unless she had the brains to call it off first. He’d lie to her, because he had to.
Things would go from bad to worse. Her brothers would beat the crap out of him…or at the very least think a hell of a lot less of him.
It would be better, much better, to simply end things now, when all they’d shared were a few hot kisses and an unlawful entry. Possibly theft. He wasn’t certain where the law stood on Layla removing her own belongings from a place she was banned from.
But eventually it all came down to the lie.
He and Rachel and her parents were the only ones who knew the truth. If he formed a relationship with Layla and allowed it to become serious, as his gut told him it would, the lie would always be there between them. Even if she never knew, he would.
How did a person build trust in a relationship when he wasn’t worthy of trust?
LAYLA WALKED THE SIX blocks to Nia’s Lounge, glad that she’d suggested meeting him there, rather than having him pick her up. It was in keeping with the type of date she wanted this to be—casual, nonthreatening. If she was reading him right, Justin was a bit concerned about her intentions—and well he should be, because they were not entirely pure. But she wasn’t going to push things. Much. Yet.
A server greeted her when she walked in. “I think your table is free.” Layla had a favorite table and came often enough that the people working there knew which it was—the one under the corner windows.
“Thanks, but I’m waiting for someone.”
She didn’t have to wait long. Justin came in the door a few seconds later, looking pretty damned good in jeans and a white shirt, with a brown corduroy blazer.
“Wow,” he said, standing back to take a look at her.
She smiled. “Likewise.” He put his hand at her elbow and they went into the bar, then Layla stopped. Stared.
No.
Nia’s had always been her place. She’d started going there in college, when a friend’s family had owned it, and had continued to go after they’d sold. She’d introduced Robert to Nia’s, and while he’d seemed to like it, she hadn’t thought he’d be there. With Melinda, who was leaning across the small table to hear whatever it was he was saying.
Justin followed her gaze, then said, “Let’s go.”
“No.” Layla gave an adamant shake of her head. “I’m not going to dodge Robert. Especially since we live in the same neighborhood.”
“I don’t think this is a good idea.”
Layla ignored him and walked across the lounge. She stopped close to the table, enjoying both Robert’s and Melinda’s shocked looks. Justin joined her, although she could practically hear his weary internal sigh.
“How’s business, Robert?”
“Good.” His handsome face took on its professional mask. Melinda looked positively smug. Not one inkling of discomfort. She had, after all, taken the victory on many fronts.
“Did you get that contract you’d hoped for?” Layla asked.
“Uh, yes,” he said, his lips barely moving. “That worked out nicely.”
She idly fingered the long pearl necklace she wore. “Many things have worked out nicely for you lately.”
“You, too, I see,” Melinda said, nodding at Justin as if Layla getting another guy so soon made what she’d done all right.
The crazy thing was that on some level it did.
“So,” Robert said to Justin, “I understand you’re a baker or cook or something?”
He made it sound as if Justin had one of the many fine fast-food jobs available in the city.
“How’d you know that?”
“Research after our encounter at Lake Tahoe.”
“Ah,” Justin said, as if a major mystery had been solved. “Yeah. I am.”
“Pretty interesting occupation, making flowers out of frosting and such.” Condescension radiated from Robert’s arrogant expression.
“It pays the bills.”
“Does it really?” Melinda asked with apparent interest. She was good. Layla couldn’t decide if she was actually interested or being condescending, as well.
“A large custom cake will run in the thousands,” Justin said.
“Really? I had no idea.” Melinda cocked her head thoughtfully.
Robert said nothing, but Layla could see that he hadn’t realized cakes cost so much.
“How many do you do?”
“Enough that I don’t get much sleep,” Justin said.
“I like your dress,” Melinda said. “I think I saw it in the window of your sister’s porn shop.”
Layla went still at the unprovoked assault, her breath catching. Had the trollop just said that to her? But she recovered almost immediately, raising her eyebrows politely. “I didn’t know you were a customer. I’ll have to see that Sam sends you some promotional coupons.”
“I wouldn’t set foot in there,” Melinda said mildly, putting her nose in the air. “I don’t need implements.”
“It isn’t a matter of needing, but rather of enhancing. And with some men…” Layla paused significantly, shooting the smallest of glances at Robert “…you might appreciate a little enhancement.”
Layla couldn’t believe she’d just said that, and apparently, judging from the look on his face, neither could Robert. She was turning into Sam. Or maybe the dress imparted special powers.
“Layla, this has been loads of fun,” Justin said, taking her by the arm, “but we need to go.”
“But—”
“Good night,” he said to Robert and Melinda, before steering Layla firmly toward the door.
When they hit the street, she said, “Maybe that wasn’t such a good idea.”
“No. I think you got some closure, which was what you were after. Right?”
“Right.”
He put an arm around her as they walked down the street toward his
car. “Wanna go get rip-roaring drunk?”
She laughed and leaned into him. “No. That just gets me into trouble.” Had she ever felt this connected with Robert? Never. But Justin was right—she had needed the closure. “But I wouldn’t mind a drink.”
