Love, Laughter, and Happily Ever Afters Collection (Eight Fun, Romantic Novels by Eight Bestselling Authors)
Page 17
Not Rob, whose opportunity to cheat would always be plentiful, whether or not he ever planned to act on it.
Not Gretchen, whose betrayal was surely unintentional. Elizabeth doubted her friend even realized she was next in line for Robâs attention. But Elizabeth knew no one escaped his magnetism unscathed, so it still hurt to see her with him.
Not even Jacques, whose empathy had him turning several shades of sickly pale.
She race-walked down the block and back to her car. She got in, drove as far as the park, found a shady spot and killed the ignition. Then she sobbed nonstop for forty minutes.
*
ELIZABETH WAS ACTING weird as hell tonight. Rob figured she must still be pissed at Camden for canceling the photo shoot at the last minute. But Jacques, who Rob had thought was warming up to him again after the Fourth of July, was back to being very, very chilly, which made no sense at all. Those moody Frenchmen.
Nick was off in his own world most of the time, no doubt dreaming of some gay hockey-playing fantasy lover who could down a shot of ouzo without clutching his stomach and grimacing at the potency.
Only Gretchen was being her normal self. When heâd asked her for details about Elizabethâs experience as a cookbook writer this morning, sheâd told him sidesplitting stories of some of Elizabethâs earliest recipe attempts. Customers with delicate sensibilities were in the shop, so they had to keep their voices downâ¦her tales involved proclaiming several very descriptive swear words, which Gretchen claimed Elizabeth hadnât used since. But Rob laughed and laughed just imagining his sweet woman letting loose with a range of profanities a Green Beret might find offensive.
He just loved those contradictions in her. She usually surprised him and challenged him as a result. But here they were at dinner and, try as he might, he still couldnât figure why she could act with perfect pleasantness toward every member of his family and, yet, give him the cold shoulder. Even Tony noticed the change.
âYou two get into a fight?â Tony whispered to him.
âNot that Iâm aware of.â
His brother winced. âOooh. Those are the worst kind. Hey, man, take my advice and just apologize now.â
âFor what?â he said. âI didnât do anything.â
âYeah, you did. You just donât know it yet. Nip it in the bud and say youâre sorry. Itâs easier that way. Really. Trust me on this.â
But games like that made Rob mad, so he ignored his brotherâs wise counsel, only to regret it on the car ride home.
âYou need to keep your eyes on the road,â she informed him when he leaned over to kiss her at a stoplight.
âO-kay.â He snapped back to the driverâs seat and stared straight ahead until the light changed and he could floor the accelerator. A Porsche can go damn fast.
âS-Slow down,â she hissed, crossing her arms and looking all irritated.
What was this? Driving 101?
He didnât slow down.
âRob, what do you think youâre doing?â
He slammed on the brakes and pulled over to the side of the road. He shoved the car into park with a force that probably wouldnât be looked upon too favorably by the manufacturers.
âWhat the hell do you think youâre doing?â he said, none too quietly. âWhat is up with you tonight? I did not do anything wrong, and Iâm not going to apologize. So there.â Okay, well that last part came across as kind of childish, but he really wasnât in the mood to care much.
Her green eyes narrowed. Her lovely lips tightened. Her soft hands clenched together so hard he worried a few of her fingers might get dislocated.
âI saw you flirting with Gretchen this morning.â Her words were pointed, precise, as accusatory as they came and without a stutter anywhere. âShe is my friend, you know, and if youâre leading her on orââ
âYou think thereâs something going on between me and Gretchen?â WHAT? âHell, Elizabeth, sheâs the only one of you guys who isnât acting like a nutcase today.â
Oooh, she didnât like that comment. Whoops.
She snatched at the handle of the passenger door and began to pull it open.
âWould you just wait a minute?â He tugged at the hem of her blouse to keep her in the car.
Oooh, she didnât like that move either, and he was rewarded with a glare that could freeze water in Aruba.
âWhy should I wait?â she said.
âBecause this is ridiculous! There is nothingâI repeat, nothingâgoing on between me and your best friend. Gretchenâs fun to talk to, thatâs all. She tells goofy stories and they make me laugh.â
Oooh, man, was he ever striking out tonight. Now she looked hurt and he rememberedâtoo late, of courseâthat she was sensitive to the whole speaking thing. Not that he ever thought of her as having a speech impediment anymore. And the two of them talked constantly. How could she forget that? How could she act like an insecure seventh grader?
Women were these crazy-making beings, which reminded him of why heâd stayed clear of them in the first place.
âPlease drive me home,â she commanded.
âFine.â He put the car back into gear and got them the hell out of there. Not that it helped any. A change in location didnât change her attitude toward him.
âIâm still very angry with you,â she said primly when they reached her apartment complex. âIâd rather you didnât come up tonight.â
As if! âYou donât have to worry, sweetheart. I could use a good nightâs sleep for a change.â He heardâand cringed atâthe bitterness in his own voice.
Clearly, she heard it, too. Something in her expression telegraphed both fresh pain and confusion.
âIâm s-sure youâll have plenty of restful n-nights soonâ¦back in Chicago.â Her tone was sad, regretful even.
If heâd have stopped right there and apologized for losing his temperâand let her apologize, as he sensed she probably wanted toâhe couldâve gone up to her place with her and they couldâve made love and their kisses wouldâve removed the stingers theyâd thoughtlessly inflicted on each other.
But, dumbass that he was, he didnât stop there and apologize for his part in letting this silly battle escalateâeven though she was wrong about the flirting. Oh, no.
Instead he said the genius line, âMy nights in Chicago arenât restful at all. Iâve been taking it easy up here.â
The fury in her eyes told him heâd better get used to Tonyâs sofa sleeper again. The hurt on her face told him that they were now paying the price for a relationship that shouldâve never happened in the first place. He could see her practically computing the hours until she could watch him leave the city limits of Wilmington Bayâand leave her alone.
*
TONY COCKED AN eyebrow at him when he returned to his brotherâs house that night after a ten-day absence.
âI told you, you shouldâve apologized. No questions asked,â Tony said.
âI donât want to talk about it.â
âAh-huh.â Tony flung some sheets and blankets at him. âI believe you. Really.â
Something in his head exploded. âWomen are crazy.â
Tony nodded like a freaking TV shrink. âYep.â
âThey get these damn fool ideas into their heads about something and they wonât listen to logic or to reason or to anything that remotely makes sense.â
âSounds familiar.â
âAnd I was not flirting with Gretchen.â
Tony laughed. âOh, boy.â
âI am really pissed off.â He massaged his temples with his fingers and collapsed onto the sofa sleeper.
His br
other slapped his shoulder on his way out of the room. âLove does that to you,â Mr. Family Man said.
âDammit,â Rob said back.
And, just for the record, he did not have a restful night.
*
ELIZABETH KNEW JACQUES didnât own much blackâit didnât suit his coloringâbut, whatever heâd collected in mourning colors, he was wearing all of it the next day.
âI havenât been much of a friend lately, have I?â she said to him in the early-morning, pre-opening-shift hours at Tutti-Frutti. She enjoyed coming up here before the crowds. It was peaceful, and she needed that these days. Sheâd be long gone before Rob and Gretchen waltzed in at ten.
She leaned against the counter and finished filling out the order forms she had to complete. Then she handed Jacques one of the blueberry muffins she baked oh-so-late last night when she was not with Rob.
âIâve been pretty self-absorbed with my own bizarre life, and Iâm sorry,â she told him. âI know somethingâs bothering you. Do you want to talk about it?â
He took a deep breath then a big bite of muffin. âMmm,â he said without enthusiasm.
She smiled slightly. âAre they that bad?â
His brow wrinkled. âWell, chéri, letâs just say they arenât your best effort.â
âI was mad when I made them. And sad. Andâ¦well, I donât know.â
âJust as it was in that film Like Water for Chocolate. How the familyâs reactions to the foods the heroine served depended on her emotions when she cooked them.â He sighed. Jacques was a longtime fan of foreign flicks that played at independent artsy theaters.
Of course, in this case, he was probably drawing an accurate comparison.
She snatched the muffin plate away. âBetter not eat these then. I donât want you suffering through my reactions from last night.â
âRobâheâs a short-term thing, yes?â He looked up at her with big worried eyes.
She hated to admit it, but she couldnât lie to her good friend. âI suppose so.â
He reached past the plates and papers and gave her a long hug and then a soft kiss on her cheek. âYou know, my marriage proposalâit still stands. We could be very, very happy together. Good friends, comfortable. Not this constant and unpleasant churning of emotion.â He smiled at her. âWhy donât you marry me, Elizabeth?â
She glanced at him sharply before being distracted by a noise. âDid you hear something?â she said.
He shook his head then grinned a little wickedly. âJust my beating heart.â
âNice try.â She thought about his words. What heâd described as a âconstant and unpleasant churning of emotion.â He wasnât just talking about her feelings for Rob. Something was definitely up with him. Then it suddenly hit her. âJacques, are you in love with someone?â
He gave her a stricken look. âIt doesnât matter. I donât like this. I donât want this.â
âYou are in love with someone.â And she knew, with certainty, that this someone wasnât her. For a moment she felt a sting of hurt, but she and Jacques had always worked best together as friends. She knew that even before Rob Gabinarri returned to put a big crimp in her life.
Jacques still wasnât talking.
âWhy wonât you tell me?â she asked him. âYou know you can trust me.â
âOh, I know. Itâs justâIâm justââ He paused and she saw actual tears in his eyes. Tears she knew he wouldnât let fall. âSheâs a good friend, too, but there was always somethingâ¦more to it. A spark of something beyond friendship, which made everything more frightening.â
Elizabeth covered her mouth as the connections in her brain began to zig and zag and reach an amazingâbut not really so unbelievableâconclusion. âGretchen?â she whispered.
Jacques nodded. âFor maybe two years now,â he admitted. âSheâs like the smell of bread dough rising. Like thick chocolate icing on a fresh pastry. Like powdered sugar on Mexican wedding cakes.â He gave her a small smile. âLike all the things I love best.â
âDoes she know how you feel?â
A single tear escaped his eye, but he brushed it away before it rolled down his cheek. âI was going to try to tell her yesterday. Then I saw her with Rob. And I realized that, even if thereâs nothing between them, she has higher standards than just me.â He looked utterly, inconsolably miserable.
âJacques, donât say things like. Itâs so, so not true. Youâre a wonderful man whoâs incredibly caring. Gretchen, or any woman, would be delighted to know you were interested in her. Even when I knew you were just playing around with the marriage proposals, I was still flattered that youâd thought enough of me to pretend.â She took his hands in her. âPlease, d-donât sell yourself short.â
âGuys like Rob are tall. They have a head full of hair, muscles and no flab. They donât have a silly accent and they know how to play all sports. Thereâs no comparison between him and me.â
âBut Jacques, you and Gretchen can literally see eye-to-eye. She laughs when sheâs with you and has told me a trillion times that she loves your French accent and wishes it were even thicker.â
This made him grin. âReally?â
âOh, yes. And you know darned well that appearances arenât everything. Hair and flab donât matter where thereâs true affection.â
He tilted his head to one side and regarded her strangely. âYou believe this?â
She paused for a moment of personal honesty. âWellââ she began.
âYouâre saying you believe, although your hair was so frizzy and you were a little chubby in high school, that these things didnât matter? That a boy who cared about you wouldnât have cared about those features? What you always considered to be your flaws?â He shook his head. âMais non, il nâest-ce pas vrai. Itâs not true that you believe this.â
âBut that was high school, Jacques, not now. That same kind of shallowness doesnât hold up anymore. Weâre all smarter and wiser. At least most of us are.â She grinned at him and tried to make herself project total belief in this position despite all of her evidence opposing it.
If only Rob would have ever said that he thought she was beautiful to him. He mustâve said a thousand times he thought she was brilliant. But, to her, that was decades-old praise. And, perhaps her grand wish was just an expression of human nature. Everybody craved the one compliment they never got.
Jacques still looked sad as he stood up and tossed the rest of his blueberry muffin in the trash. âAh, mon amie, thank you for the advice. I will consider every thought. Althoughââ He grinned. âIâll wait for the next batch of muffins you bake, if you donât mind. Those were dreadful, you know.â
âI know,â she said, pitching the remaining ones into the trash bin one at a time as Jacques left. Without Rob, most everything was dreadful.
CHAPTER TWELVE
ROB FOUND HIMSELF on US-41 driving a good twenty miles per hour above the speed limit. He didnât care. He was headed southbound to Chicago and, by God, he couldnât get there soon enough.
There were times in a manâs life when standing and fighting were the best options. There were also times to head for the hills. Or, in his case, a high-rise condo overlooking the Windy Cityâs Lake Shore Drive. Go Bears.
Even now, an hour later, he still couldnât believe what heâd overheard. Monsieur Jacques saying so breezily to his secret love interest, âRobâheâs a short-term thing, yes?â
And Elizabethâdamn her!âsaying, âI suppose so.â
And then the two of them mumbled some
stuff he couldnât hear because he was too busy picking his heart up off the floor. Oh, except for the last, extra-special bit: âWhy donât you marry me, Elizabeth?â
Why? He could sure give good ole Jacques a few hundred reasons why notâ¦in English or in français, for that matter. Heâd taken two whole years of French in high school. He could put a few fairly graphic sentences together if he ever found his battered old dictionary.
He stepped a little harder on the gas pedal.
Huh. So thatâs how it was, then. Elizabethâ¦and Jacques. He knew thereâd been something simmering between them, even if she hadnât fully opened her eyes to it. Why had he ever overlooked, overruled, overridden his first impression? The casual friendship those two shared. All that time spent baking and talking about recipes together. They had mutual interests. And what could he add to the conversation? âI used to play football a lot. Cool, eh?â
Rob saw the police siren before he heard it but, no doubt about it, the black-and-white car was headed toward him.
âOh, hell.â
He pulled over and the officer got out and sidled up to his Porsche.
âNice car,â she said.
And he thought, Nice body, nice lips, nice skin⦠But he said, âThanks.â
She asked for his driverâs license. âYou realize you were going close to thirty miles above the speed limit, Mr. Gabinarri, donât you?â
He nodded then managed to shoot a warm smile at her.
She grinned back. Attractive lady, no doubt. But, dammit, not his particular type of attractive these days.
âNo way are you getting out of this speeding ticket,â she told him. âAnd itâs going to be an expensive one.â
He sighed and squeezed his eyes shut while she did all of her police officer stuff back in the squad car. A few minutes later she came back, notepad in hand.
âHere you go,â she said, scribbling down the rest of his ticket information. One that probably would have his insurance company tossing him in driving school.
âUm, thanks,â he said, when she handed the paper to him. He noticed an address scrawled on the top and glanced up at her in question.