Dreaming of You

by Francis Ray

  The Women’s League was a charitable support network that helped the needy men and women of Santa Fe. The league was in its fifth year and had received numerous awards for helping the citizens of the city. Two yearly events, the Bachelors Auction and the Kitchen Cooking Show and Extravaganza, were the most anticipated.

  Cooking classes were popular attractions in Santa Fe, but Brandon took the classes one step further by opening the show up to anyone and auctioning off new kitchen items he’d secured from various manufacturers. All the proceeds went to the Women’s League. It had been easy to secure a classroom in one of the culinary schools.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, tonight we’re going to prepare Cornish hens, spring peas, romaine salad with honey-lime vinaigrette, and honey cheesecake with blueberry sauce for dessert. Finally, we’ll select a wine appropriate for the meal,” Brandon said, indicating several wines nearby. “Once we’ve dined, we’ll have the silent auction for the articles on the tables near me, many of which are absolutely necessary for any good cook.” The appliances from his home would be given to families in need.

  “If I’m the top bidder, will you come over and give personal instructions?” Elizabeth asked.

  The crowd broke into shouts of laughter. “I’ll be happy to give cooking instruction to the highest bidder,” Brandon told her.

  Several women in the audience got up to go to the silent auction table and place additional bids. “That’s it, ladies,” Ruth said from beside Brandon. “You’re helping others, and there’s no better cook than Brandon.”

  Brandon barely kept the pleasant expression on his face as more women went to the long tables several feet away to write down bids. He just hoped the highest bidder was happily married.

  “I may not cook, but I’d be happy to come over and sample a meal cooked by the next to the highest bidder,” Pierce said from across the room.

  Brandon tipped his head slightly in thanks for his brother showing up and for throwing himself on the pyre as even more women went to the table. But Brandon knew there was another reason behind Pierce’s sacrifice. Carmella had flown out that afternoon, so Pierce was in the market for another woman.

  “Men in the audience, I know you can cook.” Sierra came to stand beside Brandon. “Surely you aren’t going to let the women have all the great appliances?”

  Ed Peters, sixty, balding, and owner of a small print shop, came to his feet. “If a man wins, will you cook for him?”

  “Not unless you sign a waiver releasing me from any medical bills or loss of wages due to illness.” She sent Ed a teasing smile.

  The men hooted, then made their way to the thirty-odd appliances, from smoothie makers, to stainless-steel cookware, to a fifteen-piece forged cutlery set. “If you’ll have a seat, we’ll proceed,” Brandon said.

  The audience went back to their seats. Just as Brandon was about to begin the demonstration, the door in the back opened and in came Faith. She wasn’t alone.

  The tall, lean man dressed in a suit and tie didn’t have the presence or the dangerous looks of Blade. Brandon pegged him as a successful businessman.

  Aware that his mike was on, Brandon refrained from asking Sierra for her take on the man. Besides Luke and perhaps Morgan, their sister was the best at reading a person. Brandon caught the interested gleam in her eyes. He’d seen it a hundred times. It meant the man had money and Sierra was going to do her best to interest him in Santa Fe real estate before the night was over. That answered one question Brandon had and left a lot more unanswered.

  “Brandon, we’re ready when you are.”

  Brandon didn’t dare look at his mother. She read her children too easily. He didn’t want her to get the wrong idea as to why he was worried about Faith.

  “I’ve already prepared the meals for us to enjoy. Let’s see how it’s done.” He picked up the Cornish hen. “Seasoning is vital and the key. Because the hen is so small, it’s easy to overcook. There’s nothing worse than dry chicken.” He picked up a crystal shaker. “You want spice in your life, you need it in food as well.”

  “I couldn’t agree more.”

  The distinctive voice had come from the back. Brandon’s hand clenched. It had come from the man with Faith. It was going to be a long demonstration.

  Faith was the center of attraction. Rather, Holt Durant, her date and dinner guest, was. He was almost as popular as Brandon and Pierce. And that was saying a lot.

  Faith’s meal grew cold as she was interrupted time and time again to introduce Holt to another woman. That he had grown up in England and had a British accent added to his charm and allure. He was gracious to each woman and deftly sidestepped personal questions. Blade had chosen Faith’s next man well.

  Elizabeth finally moved away after obtaining no more information than the woman before her. Faith picked up her fork only to put it down again when she saw Sierra coming toward her. She leaned over to whisper one word in Holt’s ear. Sierra possessed something many of the women who had stopped by their table hadn’t: a sharp intelligence and a keen knack for obtaining information.

  “Trouble,” Faith whispered.

  Holt followed the direction of her gaze. His handsome face eased into a grin that said it was the kind of trouble he liked. He rose, his smile broadening. He hadn’t stood for any of the other women. Faith knew the gesture wasn’t lost on anyone.

  “Hello, Faith. Glad to see you here again this year.” Sierra switched her attention to Holt and extended her hand. “I don’t think we’ve met. Sierra Grayson.”

  “Holt Durant.” He took the slim hand in his and continued to hold it long past what would be considered appropriate.

  “Hello, Mr. Durant.” Lightly Sierra pulled her hand free. “Please sit and enjoy the meal. My brother is an excellent cook.”

  “Please call me Holt,” he said, finally taking his seat. “The meal is superb. Faith said it would be.”

  “Perhaps while you’re here you’ll get a chance to visit his restaurant, the Red Cactus.”

  “I’m flying back to Denver tonight.”

  “I see. Our loss. Don’t let me keep you from your meal. Enjoy.”

  “Bye, Sierra.”

  Faith kicked Holt underneath the table when he continued to stare after Sierra. He started as if coming out of a trance. Horror washed across his face. “Blade will have my hide if I mess this up.”

  “Not if you redeem yourself,” Faith said.

  Holt scooted his chair closer. “Consider it done.”

  8

  Sierra pulled her chair out and sat at the table with Brandon and Pierce. Luke and Morgan had dropped by with their wives to help with the silent auction and then left before dinner, to no one’s surprise. “That was a bust,” Sierra said.

  “What do you mean?” Brandon asked. Thankfully, his mother was sitting with Amanda Poole and the other officers of the Women’s League, so he could freely ask questions.

  “I recognized the name, if not the face.” She took a bite of romaine salad. “He’s a Denver developer. He’s slated to break ground in another month on a twenty-five-hundred-acre community that will eventually have almost three thousand residents. The sprawling residential project will take ten to fifteen years to develop. He’s not about to take on anything else. He’s flying back to Denver tonight.”

  Pierce stopped eating. “Then he’ll need good financial guidance. I’ll make sure I give him my card before he leaves, just in case he ever finds he needs to make a change.”

  Brandon wasn’t surprised by his brother’s words. Pierce played hard, but he was also a shrewd businessman. “Good riddance.”

  “Why would you say that?” Sierra asked.

  “He looked unsavory to me,” Brandon answered slowly.

  Sierra cut into her chicken. “That’s what makes him so appealing to women.”

  Brandon snorted. “Then it’s a good thing Blade Navarone went back to wherever he came from last night.” All he’d learned on the computer was how wealthy the man was.
r />   “Blade Navarone was in Santa Fe?” Sierra and Pierce asked in unison.

  “You know him?” Brandon asked, shocked.

  “Not personally, but who in real estate doesn’t know of Blade Navarone?” Sierra leaned toward her brother. “He’s amassed an obscene fortune and is still going strong. Navarone Resorts and Spas are spectacular and scattered around the world. They are just one of the properties he owns. He keeps a low profile, but he’s been the financial backer behind countless developments.”

  “If I could secure a tenth of his assets to manage, it would double my income. Where did you see him?” Pierce asked.

  They weren’t telling Brandon anything he didn’t know. “He was at the restaurant last night with Faith.” Brandon looked across the room at Faith and Holt. They didn’t have to sit so close to each other. She was almost in his lap. “Now she’s with this other guy.”

  Sierra whistled. “Well, way to go, Faith. I didn’t think she dated very much. Seems what they say about the quiet ones is true. She’s certainly making up for lost time with a bang.”

  Brandon frowned. “Faith doesn’t know anything about handling men.”

  “You might be wrong about that, brother dear.” Sierra glanced over her shoulder at Faith and her date. “To have nabbed dates with two wealthy men the same week, I’d say she knew something.”

  Brandon didn’t care what Sierra thought. Faith was like a baby chick in the henhouse with a fox. She was too innocent and trusting. He’d expect Duncan or Cameron to keep an eye on Sierra if she got herself in a situation she might not be able to handle; not that there were many men Sierra couldn’t handle. He couldn’t say the same for Faith. She hadn’t been turning down dates as Sierra had since she was in junior high.

  As people began to leave, Brandon and Pierce carried the women’s purchases to their cars. Every time he came inside, Brandon would search for Faith. She wasn’t difficult to locate, since she and her date were always surrounded by several women. As long as the women weren’t after him, that was fine with Brandon. Under different circumstances, he might have thanked Holt.

  Finally, they were down to the last of the items. Pierce grabbed the top-of-the-line mixer that belonged to long-legged Carolyn Davis, a jewelry designer. She’d paid twice the retail cost. However, by doing so she’d guaranteed Pierce would come over for a meal. From the interested look on Pierce’s face, he was looking forward to becoming better acquainted with her.

  “I’ll take this one.”

  “Thank you, Pierce,” Carolyn said, her moist red lips curving beguilingly. “I don’t think there’s room in my car. Do you mind following me home?”

  Carolyn’s doting father owned a foreign-car dealership. She changed cars every six months. At the moment she was driving a red convertible baby Benz that would have ample space for the mixer.

  “Not at all. Good night, Brandon,” Pierce said.

  “Good night.” Brandon watched the two leave. Pierce might date a lot of women, but he did so responsibly. Carolyn would be disappointed if she expected more than conversation tonight.

  Some men weren’t so disciplined.

  Brandon’s hard gaze cut to Holt. He might plan to leave tonight, but what time? Troubled, Brandon picked up the last item of the silent auction, a set of cast-iron cookware. Faith had been the high bidder, as she had been the year before. Somehow whatever she won always ended up back at the Women’s League pantry to go to a needy family. She was a good woman. Too good to let some man use her.

  Brandon started toward her. Apparently the women had given up. For once she and her date were alone. “Faith. Here’s the set of cookware.”

  “I’ll take that.” Holt extended his hands and looked down at Faith. “Perhaps you’ll cook me a meal.”

  “It’ll be my pleasure,” Faith said.

  Brandon handed over the large box, inordinately pleased that for a moment Holt had to shift to balance the heavy weight. “What time is your flight out tonight?”

  “A couple of hours,” he answered. “But there’s an important reason for me to return. In fact, you couldn’t keep me away.”

  Faith momentarily tucked her head. “You’re so gallant, Holt.”

  “How can any man be otherwise around you?” Holt said softly.

  Brandon snorted. He hadn’t heard such lame crap since high school. Faith’s startled gaze met his. She looked away, but not before he saw the flush of embarrassment on her cheeks. Belatedly he realized that she thought his derision was due to disagreeing with Holt.

  “I think we’ll be going,” Faith said quietly. “Good night.”

  Tight-lipped, Holt glared. “You might be a great chef, but your manners need work.”

  Before Brandon could think of a way to explain, they walked away. He was left staring after them. Not for anything in the world would he hurt Faith, but that was just what he had done.

  Chefs, the great ones, learned patience early. Brandon had always prided himself on that attribute until tonight. He found himself checking his watch every few minutes as he cleaned up his work area.

  “Is everything all right at the restaurant?” his mother asked.

  Against his wishes, as she always did each year after his cooking demonstration, she had stayed to help him clean up. He was thankful that he was cleaning the stove while his mother worked on the counter behind him and couldn’t see his reaction. He slid the cleaning pad over the black glass surface before answering, “Great. Michelle called a bit ago and said everything is going well.”

  “It’s about time you let her do the job you hired her for,” his mother said. “I don’t see why you made her manager if you’re always there. You need to take more time off.”

  “I took off tonight.” It was an old argument. “Almost finished here, then I can walk you to your car.”

  Her sigh was long-suffering. “Are you going back to the restaurant?”

  “Yes.” He glanced at his watch. They’d closed five minutes ago. He had a competent staff, but he liked seeing for himself that all was well.

  He hadn’t taken any consecutive days off since the restaurant opened, except for the out-of-town weddings of his cousins and Luke. And if Brandon did take time off, he always did a walk-through before going to his apartment upstairs. Tonight would be no different. However, first he planned on seeing Faith to apologize.

  “Finished.” Ruth placed her cleaning supplies in the carry-all on the counter next to the built-in cook-top.

  “Same here. Thanks for helping.” Brandon put his cleaning supplies inside the carryall and picked it up. “You must be tired. You’ve been working for two months to get ready for tonight.”

  His mother fell into step beside him. She was tall and slender, and her head came to his shoulder. “It paid off. Thanks to the hard work of a lot of people that included you and my other children.”

  “You know we didn’t mind.” Locking the front door of the cooking school, he took her arm. Except for her 4 × 4 and his vintage Porsche, the well-lit parking lot was empty.

  Taking out her keys, Ruth stopped by the door of her vehicle. “If you had a wife, you’d be going home with her instead of back to the restaurant.”

  “Mama.” His mother always worked the conversation back to marriage. “I’m happy the way things are.”

  Unlocking the door, she climbed in. “You see how fast your brothers left. You could have what they have.”

  “I’m happy, Mama,” he repeated.

  She cupped the strong line of his jaw. “Then why haven’t you smiled in the last thirty minutes?” She dropped her hand and started the engine before he could answer. “Good night, Brandon.”

  She wasn’t going to cry, Faith promised herself, and she planned on keeping that promise no matter how much her heart ached and her eyes stung. She had to face reality. Brandon would never think of her as a desirable woman.

  She swallowed the lump in her throat that threatened to choke her. He hadn’t meant his reaction to Holt to be cruel
; he just saw her differently. And he always would. Why shouldn’t he?

  She put down the schedule she’d been working on. Her thoughts were too scattered to think clearly.

  Brandon doesn’t think I’m desirable.

  She felt moisture pool in her eyes and dashed the tears away. She had other things to be thankful for in life. One disappointment wasn’t so bad.

  The knock on her door caused her to glance up. Her brow puckered. The staff always called before coming. She glanced at the clock as the knock came again. 10:09 P.M.

  Getting up from the desk, she went to the door and looked through the peephole. The most beautiful man in the world stared back at her. She jerked her head away as if he could see her.

  He knocked again, this time more persistently. “Faith, please open up.”

  Unconsciously she took a step back. She’d never been very good at hiding her emotions. As much as he’d hurt her, seeing how much pain he’d caused her would wound him deeply. Brandon cared about people. She didn’t want to distress him.

  “Faith, please. I saw your shadow through the curtain.”

  She bit her lip. She’d forgotten to pull the heavy draperies over the sheers when she returned.

  “All right, just listen.”

  Please, just go away, she wanted to say, but was afraid if she opened her mouth the tears would flow like rain.

  “You know I would never do anything to hurt you.”

  I don’t want your pity.

  “We’re good friends.”

  And I should be grateful for that, but I wanted more.

  “That’s why when Holt was trying to run a line on you I got angry.”

  Her head came up. “What?” She wasn’t sure if she mouthed the word or said it aloud. She moved closer to the door.

  “You’re too trusting and gullible.”

  Her eyes narrowed. She didn’t like being called gullible. A gullible woman didn’t manage a hotel that continually received a five-star rating.