The Marriage Recipe

by Michele Dunaway

  “I don’t want to be in the papers,” Rachel protested. The situation was awful enough as is. “I don’t like notoriety. Neither does Marco. That was one of his biggest reasons for our staying together. He kept stating he has an image to maintain.”

  Colin shrugged. “Which is why we exploit that weakness. As long as he believes we will carry through on our end, we’re already ahead. As it is, his lawyers and I will be having some very interesting conference calls over the next several weeks. Remember, my goal is to get your recipes declared yours, your noncompete contract invalidated and a few dollars into your hands for your hardship.”

  “I don’t want any money,” Rachel declared. “Getting the first two is more than enough. Two out of three isn’t bad.”

  “No, but we’re going for the hat trick,” Colin replied, using the term for when a player scored three goals in one hockey game.

  Rachel winced. “This is giving me a headache, or perhaps it’s the wine I had earlier. Remind me to take your sister wine shopping before I go back to New York. I think I drank stuff out of a box. I was trying not to be snobby, but eeuw. There are plenty of reasonably cheap vintages that still have great taste.”

  He rose to his feet. “Your poor taste buds. I understand, it’s like having house Scotch. Let me get you some acetaminophen for your headache. I’ve got some in the kitchen.” He brought her two extra-strength tablets. “Take these.”

  “Yes, dear.” She sighed, letting him know she thought the whole caretaking thing overkill.

  “Have I been wrong yet?” he asked, sitting beside her and relocating the file folder to the coffee table.

  She closed her eyes for a moment. “I’m sure you have. I just can’t think of a time right now with my head pounding. Give me a second, though, and I’m sure one will come to mind.”

  “You need to let go and destress.”

  “Heather said that,” Rachel admitted, reopening her eyes. When had he moved closer?

  “That proves my point. She and I both can’t be wrong.” He shifted so he could put both hands on her shoulders. “You’re far too tense. I can hear the knots in your back crying for relief.” He then began to knead slowly, massaging her shoulders and moving his fingers to her neck. “See, you like that.”

  “Uh-huh,” Rachel mumbled, her concentration more on his movements than on his words. His fingers were nothing short of magical. On occasion she’d gone to a masseuse at a spa in Manhattan, but her budget didn’t permit the luxury often.

  “Relax,” he told her. “Stop thinking.”

  “I’m not,” she lied, allowing her head to fall forward so that her chin touched her chest. She could feel the tension ebbing from her. “Where did you learn this?”

  “So much for not thinking. I have no idea. Just have good fingers, I guess,” Colin said, continuing to work his magic.

  “I like your fingers,” she replied as he rubbed out a sore spot.

  “And I like you,” he told her, dropping a light kiss on her nape.

  The feel of his lips had her leaping forward, so that she banged her knee on the table in front of her. The water glasses wobbled. Colin grabbed for them, set them straight and moved the file folder out of harm’s way, while Rachel massaged her knee.

  “I’m starting to believe you’ve become a klutz. First my plane, now my table,” he attempted to joke.

  “You startled me,” she defended herself. When she’d jerked away, she’d overstretched a back muscle. She rubbed it.

  “Let me do that,” he told her.

  She scooted away. “No. You touching me will lead to nothing but trouble.”

  “You are trouble. With a capital T. I didn’t bring you here to seduce you. Your virtue is safe,” he told her.

  She blinked. “I…”

  “Shush. Let me finish. Please. I want to spend time with you. I like you, Rachel. You have me in knots and there’s no one to massage them away but you. Hang out with me. We’ll go slow.”

  The man could make a convincing argument. “Why do I feel as if I have no choice in the matter?” she asked resignedly.

  He frowned. “You always have a choice. I’m not Marco. I won’t try to make you something you’re not. I believe I know you better than anyone. Deep down, you haven’t changed. You’re still that fearless girl who has a hidden insecure side.”

  “I only let you see that. No one else,” she confessed.

  He moved over, the arm of the sofa blocking her escape. “And you only let me until high school. But I know that part of you is still in there. I can sense it. You haven’t hidden it as well as you think.”

  She sighed. “You have an annoying way of exposing my secrets.”

  His gaze intensified. “I’m not exposing them for all to view. And to be fair, I’ll gladly share every single one of mine. The biggest is that for the first time in my life, I may not get what I want and I’m finding myself unsettled by the prospect of losing out.”

  She knew what—rather, who—he meant. “Me.”

  “You,” he confirmed.

  “Because I’m leaving.” That fact was becoming more and more disturbing.

  He slid his hand under her hair and began to massage her nape. “I care a great deal about you, and to hell with worrying about crossing a line with our lawyer-client relationship. This is way beyond that. But I can’t fight you or your dream. I’m walking into any liaison with my eyes open. I know you’re not planning on staying, no matter how much I wish otherwise.”

  She had to make him understand. “You said this situation with me was like being on a sinking ship. Well, in that case, I’m just as doomed as you. I can’t fight this feeling, either, whatever this thing between us is. It almost has a life of its own. I’m scared that when I go to New York, a part of me will be left behind.”

  “I’ll take care of whatever it is,” he reassured her.

  “I believe you will.” A small tear escaped an eye and he used his free hand to wipe it away.

  “Don’t cry. This—us—will be nothing but good. I promise.”

  “It will be—that is, until the ride ends,” she said, bringing back his words from…Had it been days ago? Weeks? She couldn’t remember anymore, but at this juncture words didn’t matter. Only the heart did, and she could no longer deny what hers desired.

  “Until then,” he agreed as he drew her into his arms and pulled her close. He kissed the top of her head, rubbing his cheek into her hair. He made no attempt to do anything but provide comfort.

  About ten minutes later, Rachel lifted her head, bringing her lips to his. “I’m not ready to explore the rest of your house, but I want you to kiss me before I have to leave.”

  He obliged for a good long time, before finally he drew back and asked, “Will I see you tomorrow?”

  “If you’re brave enough to help bake,” she said, nuzzling his mouth and attempting to get him to kiss her again.

  “Something tells me I should stay out of that fray,” he said, nipping her lips.

  “Probably a wise choice. My grandmother and my mom are both planning to help, and I can probably rope Heather into assisting, as well. You’d only be in the way. We’ve already sifted the flour.”

  “So now I’m useless?” he teased.

  “You’re being useless. Kiss me,” she demanded, turning so that she could press him back against the couch. “I say yes to a relationship with you and you deny me.”

  “We’re dating?” he asked.

  “I don’t care what you call it as long as Morrisville doesn’t try to marry us off. Just keep our relationship on the down low,” she said, planting another kiss on him. “Oh, I’m about to get up and leave if you don’t give me incentive to stay for a little while longer.”

  “Then we’ll negotiate our dating terms later. I’m a lawyer, remember? We like our contracts up front.”

  “Contract this,” she said, and this time when she kissed him, Colin gave himself to her. She possessed him, and then the line between who was doing w
hat to whom blurred.

  She pulled back much later, before they did more than explore each other’s mouths. “I need to go,” she breathed, her chest heaving.

  “If you must,” he told her, not yet releasing his hold.

  Regret conflicted with determination to make the correct choice. “I must. I’d like this, but part of me isn’t ready for more. Not tonight. Soon. We don’t have to hurry, do we?”

  It was important to her that they have more time, that whatever was happening between them wasn’t rushed into a few frantic, fleeting nights of bliss.

  “We have time,” Colin replied as she climbed out of his lap. She gathered up her things, and once he’d composed herself, he stood.

  “I’m going to hate closing that door behind you. I don’t think I’ve ever felt like this,” he said.

  Neither had she, and his words thrilled yet petrified her. “Try to get some sleep,” she told him as she edged toward the front door.

  “Only if you do the same. I don’t want you to get sick again. We’ll talk soon.”

  “I guess we can’t flash code to each other anymore. I could text you,” she offered as the awkwardness of a goodbye intensified.

  “Relax,” he said. “I’m not going anywhere. Go get some sleep. You have cakes to make.”

  “I’ll see you before Sunday, I’m sure.”

  His tone had never been more serious. “Count on it.”

  HE’D WALKED HER OUT, kissed her again, then stood in his front doorway until the taillights of her car disappeared from view. He still couldn’t believe it. She’d agreed to date him. Not even winning his first jury trial had been this elating.

  Colin closed the front door and immediately sobered.

  Not that this was a victory. To say that sounded mercenary. Then again, perhaps that was how he needed to approach winning over Rachel. He cared for her deeply, always had.

  He hoped they’d work out the long-distance issue. But even though he feared their relationship might be over before anything began, he decided not to back down. He’d lost her in high school, and he’d been around the block enough to know he wasn’t deluding himself when he said he believed she was the woman for him, for eternity.

  That prospect should frighten him, but somehow it didn’t. That he knew his heart reassured him even more. As for convincing her, well, he was a fighter. He meant everything he’d told her. When she left…No, he’d worry about that later. Besides, he believed in that old saying, Better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. In Rachel’s case, though, Colin didn’t plan to lose.

  Chapter Ten

  Rachel’s phone rang Saturday at two. She answered her cell, recognizing with delight the number that popped up. “Glynnis! What’s up?”

  “Checking on you, that’s what,” Glynnis replied. “How’s small-town life?”

  “Not as bad as I thought,” Rachel admitted. She was in the diner’s kitchen, boxing up the last of the cakes. Already most of the orders had been picked up and she juggled her cell phone against her ear as she taped the box.

  “Well, I heard of an interesting opportunity and wanted to pass it along your way. You know Bitsy’s Bakery?”

  “Yeah, that landmark place in Times Square?”

  “That’s the one. Well, they’re searching for a chef. They want to expand into Internet orders and ship everywhere in the continental United States.”

  “Really?” Bitsy’s Bakery had evolved into quite the destination. With more patrons than a crowded Starbucks, Bitsy’s opened at 5:00 a.m., closed at 10:00 p.m. and baked twenty-four hours a day to meet both sitdown and carryout demand.

  “That’s what I heard and I got it straight from someone who works there. I thought it might be perfect for you.”

  “I want to own my own bakery,” Rachel said. Then again, maybe this could be the next best thing. “Would Bitsy’s let that person do some recipe development?”

  “I don’t know. I could ask and get back to you.”

  Rachel shook her head and moved the cake to the side. “It’s not possible, anyway. I’m still under my noncompete with Alessandro’s. My lawyer is still talking to Marco’s lawyers.”

  “Marco is dating already,” Glynnis blurted out.

  “Really?” For a moment Rachel felt as though she’d been stabbed. Then, the sensation faded. She realized she simply didn’t care about her ex or his new life. She’d moved on. She’d found Colin and had feelings for him, real ones that were deeper than those she’d ever shared with Marco.

  “I hope he finally finds what he’s looking for,” Rachel said. “Maybe he’ll come to his senses and be reasonable.”

  “Oh, I’ve got to go. Break’s over. Keep in touch and don’t be a stranger.”

  “I promise I won’t,” Rachel said. She closed her phone at the same moment Kim stuck her head in the kitchen.

  “Is that ready?” she asked. “Katherine Kennedy’s here.”

  “It is,” Rachel replied, and putting Bitsy’s and the future out of her head, she concentrated on today.

  RACHEL’S COCONUT CAKE was a big hit at Easter brunch. She’d made two of them, one a traditional, multiple-layer cake and the other shaped like a rabbit and decorated with paper ears, licorice whiskers and jelly bean eyes. She’d put the rabbit cake on a silver tray and surrounded the cake with green-colored shredded coconut for grass, then placed jelly bean eggs all around. The kids had loved it.

  The day had gone much better than Colin had expected. Although he’d only seen Rachel briefly when popping into the diner during the week, he’d given her space during the brunch. He hadn’t wanted to crowd her.

  The thought struck him that long ago, in high school, he’d have been full of resentment that Rachel wasn’t paying attention to him. Now he knew the art of trust and patience. She’d committed to dating him, and she wasn’t leaving Morrisville yet. He had time.

  “So, did you get some cake?” Colin asked Bruce as both men made their way out of the dining room, past the remnants of the buffet brunch. The Morris house was full from third floor to basement, with the majority of men congregating in the family room, as was tradition.

  “I did,” Bruce said, taking a seat in an overstuffed recliner and kicking up his feet. “Great stuff. I had two helpings.”

  Colin figured now was as good as ever to reveal his news. “I heard back from Marco’s lawyers. Friday. Didn’t expect to get a response so soon, but they must have wanted the file off their desks for the holiday weekend.”

  Bruce lifted a coffee mug to his lips. “Probably realized Marco’s not going to pay them anything for the issue beyond his retainer. There’s no contract aside from the noncompete agreement Rachel signed when they hired her. The situation is similar to when a hairstylist moves to another salon, only in this situation, Rachel really doesn’t have any clients who would follow to another restaurant,” Bruce said.

  “Alessandro’s did sell their desserts to other establishments,” Colin pointed out.

  “Yes, but neither that nor her output was mentioned in her contract. This case has a lot of gray areas. Sorting them out will be like handling a divorce with no prenup. Legal fees will get very expensive on their part to prove that her recipes were works for hire.”

  Colin agreed. “I believe Marco’s bullying her, acting in the heat of the moment. I agree that he’s not going to want to pay much more.”

  Bruce nodded. “Probably not. It’s amazing how the trivial legal issues go away when a bill’s presented. You have to really want to fight for something. Legal fees aren’t cheap. So what do you plan to do?”

  “I picked up the phone Friday afternoon and, amazingly, got a hold of one of the attorneys handling Marco’s affairs. I’m flying up to New York next Tuesday, April first, for a meeting. How’s that for irony? April Fool’s Day I’ll fly my new plane and use the flight to acclimate to my aircraft. The plane manufacturer is buying the gas as part of our purchase contract. I got a kick out of the fact that Marco’s law
yers seemed surprised I would come to them.”

  Bruce chuckled. “They don’t know you have your own plane. They’re calculating the cost, adding up the billable hours.”

  Colin grinned. “Yep. I figured this would give them an impression of how serious Rachel is about pursuing this. Let Marco stew a bit that she really has found the money to fight him.”

  “Have you told Rachel about your meeting?”

  Colin shook his head. His blond hair was getting long. He’d get it trimmed before his trip to New York. “No. Not yet. I don’t want her hopes up if nothing happens at the meeting. This could all be for show and for naught. We could simply be like a bunch of peacocks strutting our stuff.”

  “Well, good luck.”

  “Yeah,” Colin said as Rachel entered the room. He hadn’t been by her side, but they’d made plans to go to his place for movie night after the brunch ended. They left a short while later.

  “So when shall we see each other again?” he asked as he kissed her goodbye long after the last movie ended. “I don’t want to crowd you, but I’d like to see you often.”

  She placed her hand gently on the side of his face. “You’re not crowding me. You’re being perfect.” She sighed.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Oh, I heard of a job opportunity yesterday. I’m a little bummed out about it.” She filled him in about Bitsy’s.

  “We should hear something soon,” Colin promised.

  “You think?” She gazed at him, her eyes so full of hope.

  “Yeah,” he promised. “I’m in contact with them. Nothing’s new, but the moment I know something you’ll know.”

  “Thank you,” she said.

  Colin drew her into his arms and held her close, inhaling the floral scent of her hair. It would kill him to let her go, and as she kissed him, he let himself savor the sweetness of her lips. Then she was gone, out into the night, driving back to her house.