by Peggy Jaeger
He gave her a quick nod, and then left the building.
Chapter Eight
While she searched through the clothes in the wardrobe closet, Lucy asked Stacy, “Can anyone hire him?”
“I suppose. Why?” Stacy asked.
“Well, what woman wouldn’t want a man like him watching over her, keeping her safe, offering comfort? My goodness, I’d pay through the nose for it.”
“Double,” Callie said, removing Kandy’s light base before applying a thicker one.
“Mama.”
“Oh, for goodness’ sake, Stacy, the man’s a living, breathing god,” Lucy said. “You didn’t see the way he just scooped Kandy up when she was about to faint, as if she weighed no more than a piece of paper. I almost wanted to faint myself just to see how it felt to be gathered up like that.”
“I have to admit, it was like something straight out of a Nora Roberts book,” Callie said. “All big and brawny, muscles and heart. Gave me goose bumps just riding down in the elevator.”
“You two are unbelievable,” Stacy scolded.
“It’s a good thing Hannah wasn’t there. He’d have had to carry her, too.”
Kandy blocked out their banter. She knew firsthand what it was like to be lifted in those tree-trunk arms as if she weighed nothing. She’d felt his warm breath as it pressed into her hair, the soft, deep rumble of his voice consoling her, reassuring her, chasing away the terror. When he’d kissed her temple she’d wanted to turn and take his lips with her own.
He’d made her forget everything but the feel of his body against hers.
Without even really knowing him, Kandy realized she wanted Josh in the most elemental, basic of ways.
When she looked into his eyes she was reassured and calmed by the strength and honor she saw there. Sitting in his lap, his hands rubbing down her back and her arms, she’d felt safer and more secure than she had in years.
Kandy had always been the comforter and the dependable one of her sisters, roles she’d cherished and assumed from the time her father walked out. While her mother had been off working, it was Kandy the younger girls turned to for advice, council, and consoling. She’d been the one to herd the younger ones off to school in the mornings and help them with schoolwork in the evening. She listened when they cried about being bullied at school, kissed skinned knees, and cuddled away bad dreams. She’d never complained, ridiculed, or even blamed her mother for the absence that shunted Kandy into a maternal role. Instead, she gave the girls someone they could always turn to if needed.
But it had felt so damn good to be the one getting the comfort, drawing on the strength, leaning against the solid, steady expanse of a man.
A man she wanted to make love to her.
Never before had she felt such an intense yearning for a man she barely knew. She’d dated Evan for more than a month before sleeping with him. And even then, it hadn’t been the life-altering experience she’d hoped it would be. After that first night, they’d had sex only a handful of times, Kandy feeling Evan needed and wanted more than she was giving. He’d never said anything to the contrary, but she knew there were no sparks between then in the bedroom.
And yet, Evan had stuck around.
Sure, and now you know why.
How could she be so smart in business and yet so dumb in her personal affairs?
Her first sexual experience had been at the age of nineteen. She’d purposefully chosen an older man, a chef whose tutelage she was under at Le Cordon Bleu. Kandy felt she wanted to get it over with, see what all the fuss was about. Her partner had been willing and almost thankful she’d chosen him. Their one brief encounter took place on a baking slab after class had been dismissed. Kandy thought it memorable only because she thought of it every time thereafter when she needed to roll out dough.
There had been a smattering of men through the years, men who’d been attracted to her looks and growing celebrity, but who’d quickly tired of her once they realized she was more devoted to her cooking, her career, and her family than she was ever going to be to them. Kandy knew she hadn’t been able to put any of them ahead of what she wanted because none had made her feel more than a passing fancy.
Until now.
The nervous way butterflies filled her stomach every time Josh looked at her was becoming a constant occurrence. When they touched, she’d felt a spark each and every time. She’d never experienced that with any other man. And she’d actually been scared when he told her he would be leaving.
In the brief time he’d been with her—Lord, was it only two days?—Kandy could admit she’d grown almost dependent on seeing him, having him right there next to her, with her.
For her.
How had he done it? How had he made her so comfortable with his presence that she felt alone when he was gone?
“You’re all ready, honey,” Callie told her. “Go change.”
Kandy rose from the makeup chair and took the clothes Lucy handed her.
In the dressing room, she told herself to concentrate on the work at hand. She had obligations to fulfill. People depended on her. She had to keep going no matter how tired or frightened, and dear God, she was tired. When she’d told Josh she sometimes wished her life could go back to the way it used to be, it was the first time she’d ever admitted it out loud.
Kandy wouldn’t change her life for anything, that was certain. Her success had enabled her to fulfill the promise she’d made to her grandmother before the old woman died: to take care of the family. Her drive, abilities, and willingness to work and sacrifice had propelled her to the top of the cooking world.
But sometimes she wondered if she’d ever be able to relinquish the role her grandmother had groomed her for.
Reaching into the pocket of the overalls she grabbed the tiny phone. Flipping it open, she stared at the small console. Just to make sure it really worked, she pressed the number 1.
“Kandy?” she heard him say a half second later.
“Yeah.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she managed, astonished at the relief hearing his voice washed through her. “I just wanted to make sure the phone worked.”
“I told you it would. Don’t worry.”
“Where are you?”
“My office. Are you all right?”
“Yeah. I’m a little sleepy, but I’m okay.”
“Where are you?” he asked.
“In my dressing room. I’m changing for the baking segment.”
“Is Stacy with you?”
“She’s just outside the door. She told me you ordered her to stay with me no matter what. You’ll be happy to know she’s being a good little leech.”
When she heard the deep rolling timbre of his chuckle, she sat down on the bench in order to quell the trembling in her knees.
“Good.” A moment passed. “Are you going to make some pies?”
“Yes. Cort’s got it all set up.”
“Save me some of the apple. It’s my favorite.”
Smiling, she said, “I will. A big slice.”
“I’ve got to go. I’ll see you soon. Don’t worry,” he told her again.
“Okay.”
She waited until he disconnected before flipping the phone closed.
Putting her head down into her hands she mumbled, “You’ve got it bad, girl. Really bad.”
“Kandy? You okay?” Stacy said from the other side of the door.
“Almost ready.”
* * *
Kandy smiled into the camera and said, “Ice-cold vanilla ice cream is one of the world’s most perfect toppings for warm apple pie. But why not try a twist? Grind a little nutmeg and cinnamon on top of the ice cream and then sprinkle it with a coating of shaved dark chocolate. Believe me, your taste buds will never be the same.”
She held the slice of pie up to the camera, adorned just as she’d instructed, put a small forkful in her mouth, and rolled her eyes.
With a lick of her lips she told the camera, “Heaven.”
“And…cut!” Cort called.
The crew broke into spontaneous applause as Kandy wiped her mouth and bowed. “You’re only clapping because you know you can eat it now.”
Stacy moved to her cousin and took the first piece. Kandy removed the two extra pies from the warming oven and began slicing them, offering them to whoever came forward for a slice.
“That was great, Kan,” Cort said, throwing an arm around her and squeezing. He bussed her temple and added, “No more for today. That was perfection, pure and simple.”
“We won’t really know if that’s true until we go to editing,” she tossed back, handing him a dish and fork.
“I have no doubts.” He shoved half the piece into his mouth just as his cell phone rang.
She grinned, looked up, and found Josh staring at her from across the set. Her stomach flipped and, to hide her unnerving emotions, she lifted a dish and one eyebrow.
He nodded and found his way around the camera equipment.
“When did you get back?” she asked, shaking the chocolate shavings onto the ice cream.
“Just before the last take.”
“Eat this fast,” she said, handing him the plate and a fork. “The lights are melting the ice cream.”
He took the dish from her. Once again, when their hands made contact, Kandy felt as if she’d been scorched by a white-hot poker.
“Are you okay?” He leaned in closer, his voice lowered so only she could hear. She stared up at him and her breath caught at the intense, probing depth of his gaze.
“I am now.”
“Something’s up with Cort,” Stacy said, interrupting them.
The director stood off to one side of the set, his back to them, cell phone at his ear. His shoulders were tense, and he was jangling his keys in his pocket with his free hand, his head shaking back and forth as he listened to the caller.
“Who’s he talking to?” Kandy asked.
“I don’t know.”
Just then, Cort’s shoulders slumped, and he ended the call.
When he turned back to the set, his face was pale, his mouth drawn downward.
“Alyssa,” Kandy and Stacy both said.
“His wife?”
Kandy nodded. “There’s been something going on with her. Cort won’t talk about it, but it’s no secret it’s affecting him.”
He came back to them, the whiteness encircling his lips prominent. “Kandy, are you ready for editing? I need to get it done and get out of here.”
“Problem?” She placed a hand on his sleeve.
“No. No, I just have an appointment I forgot about.”
“We can do it tomorrow morning,” she offered. “Oh, no, wait. I’ve got to be out of here by noon.”
“Eleanor’s party.” Stacy nodded.
“So let’s get it done now,” Cort said, his hand still jiggling his keys. “Then in the morning we can edit everything we’ve got together. That’ll leave just the herb segment.”
As soon as he said it, Cort clamped a hand over his mouth, his eyes bugging wide. “Oh God, Kandy, I’m sorry. Why don’t we just scrap that one? We don’t need it. We can come up with something else.”
“No. It’ll get done. Tuesday morning,” she said, mentally going over her daily calendar in her head. “I’ll keep an eye on the weather reports over the weekend.”
She turned away from him and called, “Last chance. There are a few pieces left.”
Cort grabbed the discs from the four studio cameras and left. When all the pies had been cut, habit had Kandy starting to clean up the kitchen.
“Go edit,” Stacy told her, grabbing a dish from her cousin’s hand, “and let the cleaning crew do this. Josh is back. You don’t need me anymore.”
Kandy placed her hand over Stacy’s and said, “I’ll always need you, Stace. Don’t ever forget it.”
Blushing, the younger woman said, “Go to editing. Cort’s waiting.”
Chapter Nine
Josh left her sequestered with Cort and a film technician in the editing room with a command to stay put until he returned while he sought out Kandy’s mail assistant. After getting directions, he took the elevator to the thirteenth floor.
He introduced himself to a secretary and asked where he could find Tricia.
The large, spacious office he was directed to impressed him. “This certainly isn’t the mailroom,” he told her, shaking her hand.
“A few steps way above,” she answered.
She looked like Callie’s daughter. The same chin-length auburn hair, cut stylishly into a wedge. Like all the relatives he’d met so far, except for Stacy, Tricia was at least five-foot-nine.
“Did Stacy tell you about me?” Josh asked and took a seat in front of her desk, which was laden with several huge piles of correspondence and mailing boxes.
“Yeah. I went back a few months in the files to try and see if anything popped on the weirdo radar.”
“Did you find anything?”
“No. It almost borders on boring how much positive stuff Kandy gets. No drama at all.”
“She gets a lot of mail?”
“Upward of a thousand written correspondences a week. E-mail’s double that.”
“And you go through it all? By yourself?”
“Don’t be impressed. Most of it’s standard and short.” She pointed to the heaps on her desk. “These are all since Monday. This pile’s the flowery, you’re-so-wonderful fan letters that Kandy gets by the bushel. ‘Thank you for making my dinner party so easy and enjoyable with your new recipe book.’ Stuff like that. In this one are invitations and requests for appearances.”
“What kind of appearances?”
“Well, take the top one here.” She lifted it off the pile. “Came in this morning from the Ladies Garden League in a little town outside Des Moines. They want Kandy to come and cut the ribbon on a new city park the league has sponsored. The one under it is from some new winery in California. The owners, or should I say, vintners, want her to be their guest of honor at this year’s uncorking.”
“Why would they want her for that?”
She shrugged. “Aside from all the free publicity it would bring just by having her there, the winery owners are hoping she’ll use their product in some recipe pairings.”
Josh nodded. “Then the wines will be mentioned on her show, giving them even more publicity.”
“Yup, and generating a public interest.”
“How does she decide what to attend from all these requests?”
Tricia leaned back in her chair, legs crossed at the knees. “Stacy and Aunt Trudi usually decide most of them for her because they’re the keepers of the sacred schedule.”
Josh laughed when she put her hand over her heart and closed her eyes in reverence.
“Kidding aside.” Tricia tossed the paper back on top of the pile. “Kandy couldn’t possibly honor even one-one-hundredth of these invites. There aren’t enough days in a year.”
“So what happens to them?”
“I write a nice, polite thank-you for the invitation in Kandy’s voice, state that unfortunately, the busy work schedule doesn’t permit acceptance, and then I have her sign it, and we send the letter out, usually with a signed copy of her latest book.”
“Doesn’t that get a little expensive? There must be over a hundred requests on your desk right now.”
“The cost is negligible, since it keeps Kandy in the person’s good graces. When you consider all the time and trouble the letter writer went to just to extend the invitation, when they know in their heart of hearts she couldn’t possibly be everywhere all the time, they’re actually happy to receive a nice, well-written letter and a gift as a consolation prize. Kandy’s a remarkable hostess and, because of that, she’s a great guest. If she can’t attend something, she always sends a note of regret and a gift. People remember that kind of kindness
and class.”
Josh agreed. “What’s the last pile?”
“How-to requests.”
“What are those?”
“Are you familiar with the ‘Ask Martha’ column in her Living magazine?”
“My mother’s a faithful and devoted fan.”
Tricia nodded. “This pile is ‘Ask Kandy.’ For instance.” She picked up the first few from the group. “‘Dear Kandy, How do you know when melting chocolate has reached the correct temperature for tempering?’ Or, ‘Dear Miss Laine, What kind of inexpensive wine can I serve with my Easter ham dinner?’ We get truckloads of these every week. The e-mails are mostly ‘Ask Kandy’s.”
“She should have her own magazine.”
“Don’t laugh. She’s been approached to, but she’s too busy right now. One of the network’s goals for next season is a weekly newsletter. The circulation on that will be insane, especially if she does it as e-mail.”
“Impressive. So, nothing sticks out as crazed or threatening, then?”
Shaking her head, she said, “Sorry.”
“What about on social media? Anything quirky or weird there?”
“I usually post to Facebook twice a week for her. Give a new recipe or a link to something domestic and Kandy related. But no responses or comments have been threatening or anything.”
“Twitter?”
Tricia rolled her eyes again, and then chuckled. “Well, there are always weird things there, because people just love to say negative things, especially since they think they’re being anonymous.”
“Haters gotta hate?”
Her chuckle grew into a laugh. “Kinda. Twitter is the one place I have seen some not-so-nice comments about Kandy, but I have to tell you, it’s usually that she’s too perfect, or can’t be real. That kind of thing. But again, nothing I’d ever take a second look at because it felt off or menacing.”
Josh thought for a moment. “Does she ever get requests for money?”
“Like donations?”
“No, more along the lines of, I’m a big fan of your show, my kid is sick. Can you help me out?”
“I don’t think I’ve seen something like that cross my desk in the year I’ve been here.”
