Passionate Kisses 2 Boxed Set: Love in Bloom

by Magda Alexander

  “Should I have told you?” Pearl asked. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think it mattered.”

  Jace dropped one arm around her shoulders and snuggled her into the crook of his elbow, where she fit perfectly. Almost too perfectly. “It doesn’t.” Or, he wouldn’t let it. No emotions. No mess.

  Yeah, right.

  “You planning on getting back together with him?”

  She looked up at him, eyes wide. “God, no. He was…wrong for me.”

  “Does he know that?”

  “I told him, but that doesn’t mean he really heard me.” She sighed as her head fell onto his shoulder. “Royal’s a good guy,” she added. “I should be glad he was there to help Dolly.”

  Jace arm tightened. He didn’t want to hear those words. He wanted to hear that Royal - and who named their kid something like that, anyway? - was a jerk, that they’d fought, that she’d never give him the time of day again. He didn’t want Royal to be a good guy who helped Dolly.

  “I know he means well. He’s smart when it comes to business, and I’m sure he gave her good advice.”

  Jace nodded without speaking. His fingers went to Pearl’s hair, playing with the strands. “How about we don’t talk about it anymore? He helped Dolly, great. But if she needs more business help in the future, I can recommend a few people.” Who are fifty-five and married and ugly as sin.

  Jace’s fingers stilled. Suddenly he realized he’d just offered to assist the very woman he was supposed to be trying to convince to sell. Shit. Double-shit. Not a good idea.

  Pearl turned in his embrace and smiled. Her eyes caught the moonlight, and she wrapped her arms around him. “Deal.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “Didn’t think you’d make it,” Bryce said the following night as Jace walked into Mick’s, a local bar around the corner from his apartment.

  “Meeting ran late.” He took the last open stool and glanced up at the television. Yankees were beating the hell out of the Marlins, nine to zip in the bottom of the eighth. Figured. A shitty score to add to his shitty day.

  “And?” Bryce flagged down the bartender and ordered a round of beers.

  “And nothing. Evans is chomping at the bit and Reagan wants my ass in a sling because I haven’t closed the deal yet.” Jace dumped about half the bottled beer down his throat in a single swallow.

  “Is Dolly even considering selling the diner?” Toby asked.

  “Believe it or not, yeah. At least that’s what she’s telling me.” He hadn’t told Pearl any of that, though. “She’s run that place forever. She’s tired, business is down…”

  “But she’s got emotional ties to it,” Bryce finished.

  “Of course she does. But I can’t tell my boss that’s why I’m taking it easy. I can’t go after her pit bull-style.”

  “Lemme guess,” Bryce said. He wore an expensive button-down shirt, tie loosened at the neck, and pressed pants. The whole casual, I-just-threw-this-on look probably cost him close to three hundred dollars, Jace bet. “He figured even though he didn’t spring for the cruise out of the agency’s pockets, you were gonna get a sale out of it. Now he’s holding you personally responsible that Dolly’s dragging her feet.”

  “Something like that.” Actually, it was exactly like that, which a red-faced Marshall had laid out for Jace in no uncertain terms less than an hour before.

  I thought you wanted this deal. You know what’s riding on it, don’t you?

  Of course he did. He also knew he’d screwed up by getting personally involved with Pearl and Dolly in the first place.

  “D’you like her?” Toby asked from his other side. In contrast to Bryce, he wore jeans and a long-sleeved denim shirt and work boots, straight from wherever that day’s construction site had been. “Pearl?”

  “Shit, of course he does,” Bryce said before Jace could answer. “Look at her. He’s had a hard-on for her since high school.” He elbowed his friend. “That’s the problem, right? You’re stuck between a rock and a hard place. Or rather, a place you’d like to get hard with.” He grinned, and Jace would’ve punched him for the off-color comment if he didn’t know better. Bryce might know women - how to pick them up, how to give them multiple orgasms, how to let them down easy - but Jace would bet he’d never felt this way about one. Mixed up. Sleepless. Heady with happiness one moment and absolutely down in the dumps the next.

  “Doesn’t matter,” he said. He reached for a handful of chips from the basket on the bar. “I got a job to do.”

  Toby rested his elbows on the bar. “Is it worth it? Gettin’ this deal?”

  “Shit. You know how hard I’ve worked to get this.”

  Toby nodded. “Yep. I also know I haven’t seen you like this around a woman since, well, ever.”

  “You don’t get it,” Jace said. “This deal, it’s my chance to prove myself, show Marshall I can handle working with the big guys.”

  “So then what’s the problem?” Bryce asked. “Cut the strings with Pearl and do what you gotta do. She’s smart. She’ll understand.”

  Jace finished his beer and ordered another. He wished it was that easy. “What’s up with you and Brittany?” he asked to change the subject. “You popping the question or what?” Toby’s girlfriend had made no less than five references to a possible engagement during the cruise.

  Toby shrugged. “Thinking about it.”

  “Shit, you been thinking about it for the last three years, ever since she moved in with you,” Bryce said. He grinned at a pair of women standing at the bar and pushed a fifty across to the bartender. On me, he mouthed, and motioned to the women.

  Jace wasn’t sure which one blushed harder. “You are somethin’ else,” he said under his breath. “You know them?”

  “Nope. Might like to, though.” He winked as they took their pink martinis and wiggled their fingers in thank-you. “So yeah, you gonna make an honest woman of Britt or what?” he said to Toby.

  Toby scowled. He hated when Bryce chopped off his girlfriend’s name, and everyone knew it. Didn’t stop Bryce from doing it, though. “Waitin’ for the right time.” His scowl deepened.

  Jace didn’t say anything else. He gave Toby a soft punch to the shoulder, guy code for Good luck with all that. “Listen to this,” he said. “Pearl’s ex-boyfriend showed up at the diner while we were on the cruise. Offered Dolly a helping hand. She’s applying for a grant, needed some help writing up the paperwork.”

  Toby cocked his head. “That good or bad?”

  “If she gets it and expands the business, it’ll be bad. Harder to convince her to sell.”

  “What about the ex-boyfriend?” Bryce asked.

  “His name’s Royal,” Jace said. “Can you believe that?”

  “Royal Holden?”

  “I don’t know. Didn’t get a last name.”

  “The Holdens are old money in Venice,” Bryce said as he eyed one of the waitresses, a blonde who looked all of eighteen. “Don’t you remember? Felicia was in school with us, a couple years ahead. Royal’s older than her. Must be twenty-six, twenty-seven. They had a younger sister, too, behind us a year. All of them went into finance.”

  “How do you know?” But Jace didn’t really have to ask. Bryce might not rub his own family money and connections in anyone’s face, but his network among Florida’s rich stretched wide. Jace would be willing to bet he’d vacationed with the Holdens at some point, or partied with them at some swanky fundraising event where seats cost two hundred dollars each.

  “Ah, no biggie,” Bryce said as he clapped Jace on the back. “He’s an ex, right? His name doesn’t matter.”

  Jace didn’t answer because he wasn’t so sure about that. He didn’t need an ex-boyfriend not only helpful and good in Pearl’s eyes, but wealthy and well-known in everyone else’s. Maybe the guys were right. Maybe Marshall was right. Screw any thoughts of a relationship, put business before pleasure, and go for the jugular in closing the deal. He could worry about Pearl afterwards.

  Chapter Th
irteen

  “We’re still waiting to hear about the grant,” Royal announced the following morning as Pearl stepped inside the diner.

  She stopped just over the threshold, unsure which piece of information to process first. The fact that her ex-boyfriend sat at the counter drinking coffee? Or the fact that the word We had just rolled off his tongue?

  “It’s only been a few days,” Dolly said. She stood behind the grill and eyed the bacon and eggs frying in front of her. A worry line appeared between her brows, then eased, then drew deep again. She flipped the eggs. “They said it might take a couple of weeks.”

  Pearl dropped her purse on the counter, careful to keep a few stools between her and Royal. “I’m sure you’ll hear something soon.” She poured a mug of coffee and looked around. At nine-thirty on a weekday morning, the place should have been full of late breakfasters or early brunchers or coffee drinkers watching talk shows. Instead, two grizzled men sat at the counter, and a single woman and her toddler occupied a booth by the door.

  She shook her head. They could expand all they wanted if they got the grant, but what if no one came to the diner? Even after that?

  “It’ll work out,” Royal said in a low voice. “One way or another.”

  Dolly’s cell phone rang, and she answered it with one hand as she slid the egg sandwich onto a plate. Can you drop this at the booth? she mouthed to Pearl, with a nod at the mother and child.

  Pearl took the plate as Dolly retreated into the kitchen. The only words Pearl made out were “haven’t finished looking” and “won’t know until later in the week…” It didn’t sound like a call from the planning board, but she said a quick prayer all the same.

  She delivered the food, cooed over the child’s crayon drawing on the paper placemat, and handed the mom a stack of extra napkins. “You don’t have to hang around,” she said to Royal when she returned to the counter. “I mean, I’m sure you have to get to work.” She bit back the follow-up comment, What are you doing here, anyway?

  Royal shrugged. “Perks of working for my father. I can be a little late once in a while.”

  Pearl willed someone else to come into the diner - anyone, really, just so she wouldn’t be left alone making awkward conversation with him. She pulled the bin of clean silverware from under the counter and began to roll it into napkins. The diner might not be overflowing with guests, but it wouldn’t lack for place settings, she’d make sure of that.

  “How’s Dolly doing?” Royal asked after a few minutes. “I mean, she seemed pretty good when I was here last week, but she always put up a good front, from what I remember.”

  Did Pearl imagine it, or were the words laced with nostalgia? She didn’t meet his gaze, certain he’d have that hurt, puppy-dog look. “She’s all right,” she answered, eyes on the forks and knives. “Some days are harder than others. She’ll never let anyone see that, of course.” Dolly had wept once, the day of Bill’s funeral, and never again. Pearl marveled at it.

  “She’s tough.”

  Fork and knife, three twists in the paper. Set it aside and start again. “Yes, she is.”

  “Be great if the grant came through. I know Evans has been beating on everyone’s door down here.”

  She nodded. Evans and Marshall Reagan and Jace McClintock and…fork and knife, three - the knife skittered away from her and landed on the floor. “Damn.”

  “Pearl.”

  She retrieved the knife, only to straighten and see Royal staring at her.

  “It doesn’t have to be awkward between us.” He swallowed. “Does it? I know we haven’t spent much time together since…”

  Since I broke up with you? Since you cried on my back porch? She took another knife and fork and started again. “No, it doesn’t. I’m sorry. You’re right.” She’d been the one to break things off, after all. He didn’t seem overly mopey, so that was a good sign. Maybe he’d found someone else. Maybe he’d just dropped by on his way to work, and he was taking someone new to lunch that day.

  “Thanks for helping Dolly while I was away,” she added. “I know she appreciated it.”

  He caught her gaze again and held it, serious, dark eyes boring into hers. “It wasn’t any problem.”

  And maybe she was completely wrong and he was trying to work his way back into her bed.

  Dolly emerged from the kitchen and saved Pearl from having to figure it out. “All right, then. What’s with the serious faces out here?” She held a tray with three glasses, each half-full of orange juice. “I’ve decided we should have ourselves a toast. And yes, I’m well aware that it’s before noon on a weekday.” She set down the tray and put a finger to her lips as she reached into the half-fridge near the register and pulled out a split of champagne. “Left over from New Year’s Eve,” she whispered when Pearl raised an eyebrow. “It’s my diner, so I can keep champagne on ice if I want to.”

  Pearl grinned. “What are we toasting? Did you - was that a call about the grant?”

  Dolly popped the cork and topped off the glasses. “No. But I want to toast to the future. To possibility and positive thinking.” She passed around the mimosas, sparkling orange in the scattered sunlight. “It’s easy to celebrate when things are going the way we want, right? It’s when we hit those little bumps in the road that we have to reassure ourselves that things will smooth out.” She raised her glass and clinked each of theirs in turn. “So here’s to crossed fingers and the grant coming through.”

  Pearl smiled. “I’ll drink to that.”

  “To us,” Dolly agreed. “And to the diner.”

  “To the future,” Royal proclaimed, and Pearl let him. They were friends, after all, and he’d done a good thing by helping Dolly. His future didn’t have to include Pearl.

  In fact, she was hoping hers might include a certain someone else, someone whose voice and touch and kiss she was already missing. She slipped her cell phone from her pocket, not really expecting to see a mid-morning message, though it would have been nice. She and Jace hadn’t made any definite plans the night before last, but she’d sort of thought she would have heard from him by now. A squiggle of doubt moved through her. He wasn’t still hell-bent on working the deal, was he?

  Suddenly the orange juice in her mouth took on a sour tang. They hadn’t talked about it. They’d met for a quick takeout dinner down by the beach, he’d kissed her goodbye, and that had been it. They hadn’t talked about the diner at all since returning from the cruise except in round-about terms, when she’d told him about the grant and he’d gotten bristly over Royal. At the time, she’d interpreted it as mild jealousy, charming and sweet. She’d thought they were moving toward something, away from business and the reason Jace had returned to Venice in the first place. Now she wondered.

  Pearl tightened her fingers around the glass and watched the sun disappear behind clouds. Don’t make something out of nothing. If you’re so worried about his intentions, call him and ask. Her thumb moved over the phone’s screen. Or don’t call him. Text him. Just say hello. But what if he didn’t answer? What if he was knee-deep in meetings, plotting yet another way to get Carl Evans’ hands on the diner?

  A low rumble of thunder shook the front window.

  “A storm?” Dolly said in surprise. “Didn’t know that was coming.”

  Neither had Pearl, and those were always the worst kind, the unpredictable summer storms that came out of nowhere. Just like that, the weather changed from bright to fierce, and the shiny morning with its gleam of possibility vanished.

  *****

  Lightning split the sky in two as Jace sat in his car, fingers wrapping and unwrapping themselves around the steering wheel.

  “Evans’ll be back here tonight,” Marshall was saying into his wireless earpiece. “I’ve got a dinner meeting scheduled for the three of us at The Rialto.”

  The Rialto. Of course. Nothing less than Tampa’s finest four-star restaurant for the agency’s top client.

  “I’d love to be able to tell him we’ve closed
the deal.”

  Jace kept his gaze on the diner. He could make out a few silhouettes inside, but the rain dotting his windshield prevented him from seeing any faces clearly. Probably better that way. He didn’t need to be reminded how Pearl twisted up his heart every time he looked at her. Maybe she wasn’t inside. Maybe she was at home, or shopping with her girlfriends, or snuggled up with Royal as they talked business and took each other’s clothes off and -

  “Uh-huh,” Jace said as Marshall continued to talk. The words were lost in the thunder outside. The neon sign above the diner’s front door flickered once, twice, before the “D” went out, and it became ‘olly’s Diner. That, and the crumbling front step, and the stools with their cracked red leather inside, all combined in a sad reminder of how much had changed in the past five years.

  You really would be better off selling, he’d told Dolly just that morning. Evans plans to pay you whatever you want (not exactly the truth), and you could retire. Travel. Help pay Pearl’s college tuition. Yet even as he said the words, he wondered whether Pearl would hate him for pursuing the sale, or admire him for going after what he wanted.

  Why couldn’t this be easier? Why couldn’t he have both the business deal and Pearl? Success in business and in his personal life?

  His fingers continued to drum the steering wheel. Because life didn’t work that way. It never had. He’d learned that a long time ago. You could have a decent home life but a fucked-up social life. Or vice versa. You could be good at sports, or good at school. You could get the steady girl, or you could be a wise-ass with a circle of friends, all of whom slept with a different cheerleader each week. You couldn’t have everything.

  “McClintock!”

  “Uh, yeah.” He blinked. “Sorry.”

  “I asked you if you’re gonna have any problem making it tonight. Eight o’clock.”