“I didn’t until you kept groveling,” he admitted.
“Groveling? Just because I have some manners and was sorry for what happened to you — ”
He tapped the wooden spoon across his palm. Lanie trained her eyes on it, then him, and then lifted her chin.
“I know what you want to do,” she said between gritted teeth. “You want to bang that spoon on the counter and yell, ‘Order! Order! I will have order in this candy shop! Miss Heaven, you will be quiet or I will hold you in contempt!’ Well, guess what? You can’t. This is my candy shop and my counter!” She grabbed his forearm with one hand and took the spoon with the other. “Furthermore, this is my spoon. It was my great-grandmother’s spoon and then my grandmother’s. It has stirred enough candy to fatten the whole of Ethiopia. It’s always going to be my spoon, even in the unlikely event that you get your wish and my shop fails. If I have to, I’ll sneak it out of here in my pants that you find so offensive.”
She continued to rant and wave the spoon — while continuing to grip his forearm. Gradually, Luke lost all sense of what she was saying because he could only take in one thing — that warm, strong hand on his arm, skin on skin.
Not counting fingers brushing accidently over money, receipts, and legal papers, how long had it been since he’d been touched by someone who didn’t share his DNA? Sure, he’d touched Lanie — or almost touched her, but she hadn’t touched him. Maybe a hand gripping him out of anger shouldn’t count, but it felt so good, like an anchor that would stop him from drifting out to sea. Now and then, she squeezed his arm, he supposed, for emphasis. Her lips continued to move and he occasionally caught a word or phrase; “arrogant,” “nosy,” “know it all,” “mind your own business.” All the while, her green eyes snapped with life and fury.
Once again, she squeezed his arm but this time she moved her fingers. Bliss. He closed his eyes to block out everything except that sensation. Seconds passed, maybe minutes, before he realized she’d grown quiet. Lanie’s fingers loosened but she didn’t let go of his arm. Was she even aware she was still grasping it?
“Luke?” He partially opened one eye to see a perplexed, less angry Lanie. She started to remove her hand. No! Anything but that.
His eyes flew all the way open.
“Lanie!” He gripped her shoulders. “I’m sorry.” He wasn’t sure what he was apologizing for, or what all she had accused him of. But it didn’t matter. He’d say whatever it took make her touch him again. “You’re right and I am so, so sorry.”
He let his hands slip from her shoulders to her back and she was finally fully engulfed in his arms. Her hair smelled like lemons and her cheek was warm and soft against his neck. She stiffened for a moment and then gave his back an awkward pat. She probably thought this was just a friendly “I’m sorry” hug. His groin said otherwise.
“You can’t help who you are, I guess,” she said with a sigh.
Refusing to let her go, he placed his cheek next to hers and urged her face upward until their mouths met. So soft, so sweet, so feminine. But strong too; there was strength in everything about her. She almost pulled away, but instead relaxed into him. When he tried to draw her tongue into his mouth, she resisted but accepted his. She tasted like chocolate — not childlike sweet milk chocolate, but warm dark chocolate with layers of flavors that drove him from aroused to desperate.
If only he hadn’t gotten greedy the moment might have lasted, but he slid her apron up and cradled his erection in the apex of her thighs. Lost in the blissful friction, he deepened the kiss.
She allowed it for no more than a few seconds. Then she was out of his arms with her back to him, her spatula poised over the slab of candy.
“Are you allergic to pecans?” she asked as if they had been pleasantly discussing the weather.
“No.” Before he could speak another word, he found himself with a wax paper wrapped chunk of fudge in his hand.
“Try it tomorrow once the flavors have had a chance to blend. It has cherry liquor and espresso in it.” Without turning to look at him again, she gathered dirty utensils and moved toward the commercial dishwasher.
He’d been dismissed — twice in one night.
At the door, he looked back over his shoulder. If she knew he was watching her, there was no indication. She methodically loaded that dishwasher like the very existence of mankind depended on it being done correctly and she was the only one who could possibly live up to the task. How could he have ever thought she was a train wreck? Maybe the existence of mankind did depend on her — at least this man. He had thought Lanie was the last thing he needed. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe she was the only thing he needed. Not what he wanted, of course. But he couldn’t have what he wanted. That was buried in Magnolia Cemetery in Mobile.
With half an erection and Lanie’s chocolate and cherry flavored kiss still warm in his mouth, Luke slowly and reluctantly walked away from the room that held Lanie — and pondered a way to be allowed back in.
CHAPTER SEVEN
At ten minutes before eleven, Lanie slipped into her usual pew at Christ Episcopal Church. At least she hoped it was her pew. People could get pretty persnickety if you took their seat, and she usually came to early service. However, this morning during early service, she’d been delivering the thirty personalized chocolate eggs that would serve as place cards at the children’s table at Missy’s Easter egg hunt and luncheon — plus a large basket of Easter candy that hadn’t sold. Missy had tried to pay her, but she had refused. It had been a good month — maybe the best she’d had since she’d taken over the business. She’d know for sure when she went over the figures tonight. She needed to order supplies too, which she dreaded but it had to been done — should have been done three days ago. But between the busy week and helping to watch Emma, there had simply been no time. If the thought of Emma brought a smile to her face, the thought of her father didn’t.
Damn Luke Avery! Damn that kiss — if she hadn’t known better, it was almost enough to make her think she might be normal. It had felt almost like high school kisses and the early days with Alexander when a kiss felt like a promise of wonderful things to come. But she knew better. There were no wonderful things to come for her, at least not in that department. It was a good thing it had been a busy week and she hadn’t had time to think about it much.
Thankfully, except for once, the times she’d seen Luke, Emma had been with him. The one time she’d had to deal with him alone, he’d ordered almost five hundred dollars’ worth of Easter candy — marzipan rabbits for Emma’s school party, boxes of truffles for his staff, and chocolate assortments that he wanted shipped to his sister and out of town friends — which Lanie noted were all couples.
When he added a ridiculously extravagant Easter basket for Emma, Lanie said, “Why are you doing this?” After all, she was still furious with him and had made no secret of it. Fury was excellent insulation.
“I need it. You sell it. Supply and demand. That’s how commerce works, Lanie.”
“Fine.” She added the price of the basket to his bill. “Anything else? I have some fresh peanut caramel clusters.”
“No, thank you. But I would like some of that fudge. You know, from Saturday night.”
“Sold out,” she lied. “It was a hit.”
“Yes, it was.” And the bastard had the audacity to wink at her as he handed over his platinum card.
Lanie sighed. This was nothing to be thinking of on Easter. There were lilies on the altar, the music was soothing, and the bells rang sweet. Behind her, she heard a quiet chuckle go through the crowd. Highly unusual. Episcopalians were taught at an early age not to talk, laugh, or fidget after entering the sanctuary. This was a time to prepare to worship. Lanie resisted turning around, which was also against the rules — until she felt an insistent little finger tapping her shoulder.
She gave her head a quarter
turn, and there sat Emma Avery — in a bee costume, complete with antennae, yellow and black tights, and little black shoes. Lanie bit her lip and met Emma’s bright smile. Then she slid her eyes to the left. Pressed and perfect Luke Avery didn’t look so pressed and perfect this morning. He looked like a man who had fought a war — a bad one. His hair lay in messy curls all over his head, his tie was crooked, and his face was damp with perspiration. He met her eyes and shook his head helplessly.
During the children’s moment, when all the preschoolers went to the altar to gather around Father Gregory, there were more chuckles throughout the congregation. As Emma sat among the other children wearing their smocked and embroidered finery, Father Gregory smiled broadly and said something about all God’s creatures gathering on Easter Sunday. When Emma passed Lanie on the way back to Luke, she leaned in and whispered, “Buzz.” Throughout the rest of the service — hymns, sermon, prayers, communion — Lanie fought her laughter. By golly, Emma had said she was “’posed to be honeybee,” and she was.
Luke and Emma were just stepping onto the sidewalk when Lanie descended the steps.
Emma jumped up and down and waved to Lanie. Luke looked like a man who wanted to leave the country. Town matriarch, genteel Caroline Brantley stopped and laid her hand on Emma’s cheek. Emma turned her bottom toward Miss Caroline and pretended to sting her. Miss Caroline threw back her head and laughed with delight. She patted Luke’s arm before moving on.
“Lanie! Here I am!” Emma called.
“I see you.” Lanie bent to accept her hug.
“Buzzz!” She bumped Lanie’s leg with her little soft sculpture stinger.
“Ouch! You stung me,” Lanie said.
“I stinged Father Greg too!”
“Yes,” Luke said wearily. “You’ve done a fine job of stinging today.” Emma stung Luke, probably not for the first time, before turning her attention back to Lanie.
“I’m going to Beau’s house. I’ll see the Easter bunny and find eggs.”
“No kidding? Guess what? I’m going to Beau’s house too.” She’d known they were going. She’d made Emma’s chocolate place card. But lots of people were going.
“Yea!” Emma turned to Luke. “Lanie’s going to Beau’s!”
“I heard. Do you think she’s going to have her picture taken with the Easter bunny?”
Just then, Miley Sanders and her little girl, Teresa, walked by in their matching floral mother/daughter dresses. Emma studied them for a second.
“Lanie, can you be the same as me?”
“Hmm. That might be fun. But I don’t have a honeybee suit.”
“My daddy will buy you one.”
Lanie looked at Luke, who rolled his eyes and looked heavenward.
“That might be nice,” Lanie said. “But all the stores are closed and there’s no place to buy a honeybee suit today.”
“Oh.” Emma looked disappointed.
“I might have another idea. We wouldn’t be exactly the same, but I have a blue dress and you have your beautiful new blue dress. We could go home and put them on before we go to Beau’s.”
“I’m ’posed to be honeybee.”
“And you already have been. You’ve done a wonderful job of being honeybee. Now you can be the girl who wears her new blue dress.”
She considered for a moment. “Okay.”
Luke’s eyes met Lanie’s. “Okay? Just like that? Do you have any idea what I’ve been through this morning?”
“I might,” Lanie said.
• • •
The weather was a picture perfect southern spring day — blue sky, light breeze, and just warm enough. There had to be a hundred people in Missy Bragg’s back yard. After changing into her blue dress, Lanie had helped Luke get Emma ready and he’d apparently thought all was right with them again. When he suggested they ride together to the party, she’d thanked him but said she needed to go independently.
Now, she sat at one of the tables for six with Nathan, Tolly, and Brantley Kincaid, Missy’s best friend from childhood, who was in town for the weekend. Lanie liked Brantley — everyone did — but, though it wasn’t fair and he’d never given her any reason, she was never entirely comfortable around him. He was too much. Too blond, too good looking, too charming — just like Alexander had been.
Having already been though the buffet, they had plates of ham, hot rolls, and cold salads. The children were sitting at a long table under a tent, with the Easter Bunny himself seated at the head in a throne.
“Who’s in that rabbit suit?” Lanie asked.
“My quarterback, Kirby Lawson,” Nathan said. “Missy is paying him a hundred dollars.”
Brantley said, “Missy tried to make me do it for free but I told her I’d just head on back to Nashville if she was going to insist on that.”
“I’m surprised to see you here,” Tolly said to Brantley. “I thought you’d be having lunch with your dad and Miss Caroline.”
“We had breakfast together,” Brantley said. He frowned and looked around. “Where’s Lucy? I thought Missy said she’d be here.”
“She went to Mississippi to spend Easter with her parents,” Tolly said. “It was a last minute thing.”
“Well, tell her I said — ” He broke off, Lucy forgotten. “Hey!” Brantley waved at someone. Oh, damn. It was Luke, looking for a place to sit. “Luke! Over here. We’ve got room.” Missy had mentioned that Luke and Brantley had been fraternity brothers at Vanderbilt, but Lanie had forgotten until now.
Luke approached and looked around the table. “Are you sure?” He met Lanie’s eyes and seemed to be asking for her permission. Well, she would neither grant nor deny. She dropped her eyes.
“Sit!” Brantley jumped to his feet and extended his hand. They shook, and then closed in on each other and did that thing men do instead of hugging — clapping hands in the vicinity of shoulders. After a second, Nathan stood and offered his hand.
“I didn’t go to church,” Brantley said to Luke, “but I hear that Emma was quite the star of the show in her bee suit.”
“Sorry I missed that,” Tolly said. “I was hiding three hundred eggs.”
“Well … ” Luke studied his plate. “It was quite the morning. Lanie got her to change into her Easter dress before coming here.”
Tolly laughed. “Harris and I have a cousin whose little boy wore his Batman Halloween costume every day until the hood wouldn’t fit on his head.”
“How long did that take?” Luke asked.
“Close to a year.”
Luke groaned and almost smiled. He let his eyes drift to Lanie. She looked away. He needed to remember she was mad at him.
“So.” Luke raised an eyebrow in Brantley’s direction. “You don’t have what was hanging on your arm last time I saw you.”
“Miss Rita May Sanderson is, at this moment, in Nashville, Tennessee,” Brantley said. “Or I guess she is. She does not approve of the way I do business so we are no longer keeping company.”
Tolly and Lanie laughed, more at Brantley’s charming vernacular than at his plight, but none of them liked Brantley’s on-again-off-again girlfriend. Missy actively detested her.
“Still or again?” Tolly asked.
“Who can even tell?” Brantley replied, looking around. “Looks like they’ve turned the kids loose.”
A swarm of small pastel bodies gathered around Missy, who was giving out little yellow baskets.
“I guess I’d better go.” Luke started to rise.
“You don’t have to,” Tolly said. “Missy hired some teenagers to herd them.”
Luke looked doubtful but he settled back into his chair.
“Can I get anybody anything?” Nathan rose. “That dessert table is calling my name.” He laid his hand on Lanie’s shoulder.
“I’ll go with you,” Brantley said, vacating the chair between Lanie and Tolly. “I don’t mind telling you to shut up where my love life is concerned.”
“You won’t have to,” Nathan said, “because I don’t care.” Lanie watched Nathan walk away. She felt Luke watching her watch him. She smiled and licked her lips. For all he knew, maybe they had changed their minds and were really dating now.
“You’ve been busy this week,” Luke addressed her directly, forcing her to look at him or be blatantly rude. “I guess you’re glad Easter is over.”
“I am.” Lanie took a sip of her iced tea.
“I wonder what Missy would have done if it had rained,” Luke said.
“It wouldn’t have,” Tolly responded. “Mother Nature follows the orders of Missy Bragg, as do we all. She always gets her way.”
“Maybe I should have her conjure me up a nanny,” Luke said.
“She’d do it,” Tolly said. “She’d have Mary Poppins herself here in no time.”
Just then, Nathan and Brantley returned carrying six plates of assorted desserts.
“We brought a lot,” Nathan said and set a slice of chocolate pound cake in front of Lanie. “That’s what you like, isn’t it?” He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Honey.” She had to remind him that if he couldn’t act more natural, not to lay it on so thick.
“It’s fine.” Lanie pulled the cake toward her. “Thank you.”
“But you don’t eat — ” Luke said.
“It’s fine,” Lanie repeated emphatically.
Luke looked like he might have argued had Emma not rushed toward him.
“Daddy!” She threw herself into his arms, as if she hadn’t seen him for months. A familiar hollow feeling overtook Lanie again.
“I got this one for you!” Emma reached into her basket and gave him one of the three plastic eggs there.
“Did you?” Luke kissed her brow. “Just for me?”
“Yes!” When she giggled all the adults joined in.
Hollow. Lanie would never have this — never. Across the way, Beau called out to Missy and ran to her with his arms outstretched. Just as she bent to pick him up, Harris charged in, picked up Beau, and leaned into Missy. Clearly he didn’t want her to lift the heavy child in her condition. Missy and Harris hugged Beau between then and exchanged smiles, no doubt picturing next Easter when Beau would have a little brother or sister.
Sweet Gone South Page 11
