Toronto Collection Volume 1 (Toronto Series #1-5)

by Heather Wardell

  Her cheeks pinkened. "I wanted to."

  "Well, you made it happen the first time so I'm glad you're here now." He turned to me. "Candice works for Sapphire Interior Design, and she helped design this place. Picked out the colors and the tiles, and did an amazing job." He looked back at her. "I didn't change anything this time around, since it was gorgeous just the way it was."

  She started to respond but he cut her off. "I'm sorry—" He cleared his throat. "I'm sorry it all got destroyed."

  His first "sorry" sounded heart-felt and passionate, very different from his second, and I saw the man and the blonde woman both stiffen while Candice murmured, "Thank you. That means a lot."

  I didn't understand everyone's reaction but I didn't want any confrontations to ruin Steel's opening so I smiled at Candice and made my voice cheerful. "But at least everything's back to how it should be now. I haven't seen you at Magma. Too busy with other projects?"

  Her blush deepened but her voice stayed calm. "I'm actually a full designer now, and I specialize in retail design. I know about Magma, of course, from Lou, but I'm not involved."

  Kegan had been involved with a woman related to Steel right before it opened. When I'd met Lou he'd said something about a woman who was now a retail designer and the mere mention of her had made Kegan blush. Was this Candice the one? Their awkwardness, and the coldness of her guards, said she might be. Certainly there was more between these two than a brief working relationship, but I wasn't at all sure I wanted the details. "Well, Lou is doing an amazing job. I can't wait to see Magma finished."

  "I'll tell him you said that." She paused, and I said, "I'm Mary."

  Kegan shook his head. "I'm useless. Mary, this is Candice, and her friend Larissa." He straightened his back and turned away from the unsmiling Larissa, who'd barely acknowledged his introduction, to the man. "And you must be Candice's husband Ian."

  Ian nodded, his jaw set.

  I briefly expected Kegan to release my hand so he could shake Ian's, but it was probably obvious to him, as it was to me, that Ian didn't want to do any such thing. Instead, Kegan drew me a little closer. "Mary's my chef and motivational speaker and general lifesaver."

  I rolled my eyes but squeezed his hand, and Candice smiled at me. "The food is great."

  "Thank you. We worked hard."

  We stood in an uncomfortable silence for a moment. Ian and Larissa were so clearly dead set against Kegan that I couldn't think of anything else to say. Candice rubbed her stomach, as I'd seen so many pregnant women do, and though I was afraid she might not actually be pregnant I took a chance and said, "Everything okay in there?"

  She laughed, and even Larissa and Ian smiled. "Eleven weeks to go. I already feel huge."

  "Well, you look great," Kegan said, with a jovial-uncle tone in his voice. "Got names picked out?"

  Candice looked up at her husband and I saw his face soften as she smiled at him. "We're keeping them secret until the baby's born. Just between us. Not even Larissa knows."

  Ian wrapped an arm around her and rubbed her lower back, seeming more relaxed. "Not that she hasn't asked a million times."

  Kegan smiled at Larissa. "My sister wouldn't tell me the names she picked for her kids either. Made me crazy."

  Their eyes met and held, then she smiled too, reluctantly from what I could tell. "It's frustrating, no question. But it's kind of cute too."

  "Absolutely. It's a nice way to bond, I bet, keeping it secret." He turned to me. "I'm thinking Hepzibah or Felix. What do you think?"

  I raised my eyebrows and said, "In this case, great minds do not think alike."

  We all chuckled, but he slipped his arm around my waist and I leaned into him. The words "great minds" would make me think of Kegan and that hotel room for the rest of my life, no question, and he obviously felt the same way. I loved that we had a private joke already.

  "And how long have you been together?" Larissa said to me.

  "Since New Years' Eve. So not long."

  "But we've been here for endless hours so it feels longer."

  I turned toward Kegan with a mock frown. "I'm not sure how to take that."

  He laughed. "It was a compliment. Said badly, I admit, but meant in a nice way."

  Larissa took a breath to say something but Candice jumped in with, "We can't monopolize you two all night. We'll wander around and see what's changed."

  "Please do," Kegan said. "If you have questions about anything, or suggestions for how I could do it better, let me know. Especially suggestions. I'm pretty happy with the place at the moment but I'm open to advice."

  Larissa gave a cough that sounded like a snort and Candice blushed.

  I looked up at Kegan, who looked so sad I couldn't bear it. "I know, that's what's great about you," I said to him, pretending I hadn't noticed anything. "I've never met a man who listens like you do." I caught his hand, resting on my waist, and gave it a squeeze. "Well, I'd better go make sure the food's behaving itself. Nice to meet you all."

  They smiled at me, and as I left I heard Kegan say, "Again, thanks for coming," and then felt him following me back to the kitchen. I didn't look behind me but I knew he was there.

  He caught up to me in the hall and drew me into our dark office and into his arms. "Sorry. I couldn't face them alone. Candice is... she was..."

  I wrapped my arms around his neck. "The resolution."

  "Yup." He shook his head. "God, I was such an ass to her. Seeing her brings it all back. I wanted to apologize but I couldn't do it in front of them and they'd have killed me if I tried to see her alone."

  His sadness hurt me, and I wanted to soothe him. "She seems to be doing well now."

  He nodded. "Which is good. I just wish I hadn't screwed her around first. Twice. Pushing her around before Steel opened and years before that when—"

  My heart breaking, I pressed two fingers to his lips. "Kegan, don't. Don't torture yourself. You made mistakes. Who hasn't? But you're doing everything you can to change and it's amazing. And you did apologize tonight and I think she understood. Plus she came here, which must mean she'd already forgiven you. Now you have to forgive yourself."

  He squeezed me tight for a long moment then bent his head and kissed me softly. "You're the best."

  I smiled up at him. "No, that's you."

  "It's you." He kissed me again. "For telling them I listen now, and for meaning it." Another kiss. "And for putting up with me when I don't listen." Another. "And for being amazing. And sweet. And sexy. And..."

  He stopped talking and kissed me in silence with unusual tenderness, and I kissed him back and did my best to tell him that I'd meant every word I'd said.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  By the end of Steel's open house, we were booked solid for the next three weeks and also for Valentine's Day. Kegan's delight was obvious, and I was thrilled for him even though I was utterly exhausted.

  At least, I thought I'd reached 'utter'; I soon learned I could be even more tired. My days post-opening quickly fell into a routine. I started at Steel, ensuring everything was right for lunch, then spent hours at Magma making sure the renovations were going well and also planning my menus.

  I had multiple menus on the go: I needed Magma's regular menu, plus one for the special fourteen-dollar Valentine's Day dinner that would be Magma's unofficial opening, and another for February first, "Magma Night", when we would turn Steel into Magma to give our invited guests a taste of the final menu. Coordinating all the similar but slightly different dishes felt next to impossible.

  Every day I returned to Steel at around five o'clock to supervise dinner preparations and make any necessary arrangements for upcoming days. Kegan handled staffing, which suited me fine, but I'd gradually taken over more and more of the food ordering since I knew exactly what I wanted, and keeping on top of it all wasn't easy.

  I loved what I was doing, no question, but I was steadily more desperate for a day off, or even a few hours. Kegan had suggested we go to Niagara again f
or the weekend before Magma's opening, but we'd eventually had to accept that with Steel open we simply didn't have time. We'd settled on going for one night, the Thursday before Valentine's Day, and I was looking forward to it as I'd never looked forward to a vacation before.

  With any luck, Kegan and I would be able to relax and really connect with each other, because while we spent hours near each other we hadn't shared more than a kiss or two. We got along so much better when we had time to decompress away from the restaurants, and I had the chance to see him as my boyfriend instead of just my boss.

  My increasingly aggravating boss. Though I knew he was trying not to, he was still ordering me around at work, more and more each day as he became busier with Steel and more focused on Magma where before I'd had nearly free rein, and I hated it.

  The Friday before Magma Night, I returned to Steel delighted with myself for finally standing up to John Franklin and insisting he move the towel shelves, which still bothered me, to the sink area like I'd originally wanted.

  John had again explained it would take too long, but I stayed calm and said, "I need them there. We need to make that happen. This simply doesn't work for me."

  He blinked. "I didn't think it mattered that much to you. Yes, I can move them."

  I took a breath to suggest leaving the old ones and adding new rather than moving them, but before I could he said, "Actually, you can probably always use more shelving, right?"

  "Definitely."

  "All right, so I'll leave those and put new ones over the sink." He frowned. "I am sorry, Mary. I really didn't think you minded the new location. I'll get it done the way you want."

  And indeed, by the time I left for Steel he had the first shelf up and it looked great.

  As my taxi carried me away from Magma, I thought back to our earlier shelving-related conversation and realized he was right. I hadn't been clear enough. But today I had, and every time I saw those shelves I'd know I'd stood up for myself and made them happen.

  I marched into Steel, still smiling and proud of myself, to find Kegan rifling through my desk drawers. "Hey there," I said, instantly annoyed. "Can I help you?"

  He looked up, not seeming remotely apologetic. "Nope, I've got it."

  I pulled back on my chair, rolling it and him out of my way. "What are you looking for?"

  "The order you placed yesterday, the poultry one. The guy's claiming we ordered three hundred Cornish hens." He reached for my files again but I cut in front of him.

  "I didn't do that. Give me a second." I flipped through the folders and quickly found what I wanted. "See? Thirty."

  He took the paper from my hand. "Thank God. I had no idea where we'd stash them all."

  "I can deal with—"

  But he was gone, off to chastise the supplier I'd been working with since November. I dropped into my vacated chair and shook my head though there was nobody there to see me. It made me feel better. He swore blind that he trusted me, that he knew I could handle things, but at every tiny provocation he took over. I wanted to be in charge of the things that were my responsibility, but it so wasn't happening.

  I checked on the kitchen and found everything in order save the freezer the staff had messed up while trying to find a storage spot for the unexpected Cornish hens. I rearranged that, spent a few minutes monitoring the night's preparation, then went back to the office to give my menus a bit more attention.

  Kegan stood and held out his arms to me. "Come here. I'm sorry. Yet again. I should just record myself apologizing, save my breath."

  I let him pull me close, but had to say, "Or you could stop taking over and then you wouldn't need to apologize."

  "I love that you still think I could do that even though I'm a total failure so far."

  Surprised at his suddenly sharp tone, I pushed back so I could see him, and my heart skipped a beat at the frustration in his eyes. "You're not remotely a failure. I know you're trying."

  "Yeah, I'm very trying."

  "That's not what I—"

  He kissed me, cutting off my words, then said, "Look, my lovely lady, I think you should take the night off. Get some rest."

  "What? I can't. You need me here tonight."

  "Actually, I need you desperately over the weekend and on Monday. I do need you today but I can make do without you better now than then, and you need a break."

  "So do you."

  He touched my temple at the edge of my eye. "You need it more."

  I flinched away. I'd hoped he hadn't noticed my eye twitching with tension and tiredness. No such luck.

  "Look, when Magma opens and you're working at both places, you won't be here every night at dinner. We should get used to that now."

  I took a breath to argue, then gave in as another wave of fatigue hit me. He was right, I did need time off, and he had everything under control. Besides, Crystal was off work for the day, having apparently had yet another friend's parent die, and I much preferred leaving Steel when I knew she wasn't there to wreak havoc. "Okay. But when will you get your rest?"

  "I'll leave at nine tomorrow night."

  "Yeah, right."

  He laughed and shook his head. "You know me too well. Nine-thirty. Ten at the latest. But I will go before we close. Good enough?"

  "I suppose."

  He smiled, then kissed me, lightly at first then with a deep hunger. "Sunday night let's both leave early," he murmured against my mouth.

  I shivered and said, "Definitely." We hadn't had time for sex since our frantic encounter on the office floor after Steel's reopening, and I missed it desperately.

  His arms tightened around me. "Get your rest. You'll need it."

  I giggled. "Glad to hear it."

  We gave each other another quick squeeze and a brief kiss, then I headed out into the cold dark night. Only seven o'clock but it was dark enough to be midnight. I'd feel more cheerful and have more energy once spring arrived and the days got longer.

  Assuming I survived that long.

  I reached my building and climbed the stairs to my apartment slowly, making yet another mental note to make sure my next place had an elevator. I was now on a month-to-month lease; I hadn't wanted to renew for another full year when I wasn't sure what would happen with me and Kegan. He'd already hinted about my moving in with him, but I was afraid of what would happen if we broke up. Bad enough that he was my boss as well as my boyfriend, but if he were also my landlord and I lost my home as well as my job...

  I grimaced and pushed the thoughts away. We weren't breaking up. We argued occasionally. So did most couples. We'd be fine. End of discussion.

  I changed into my favorite fuzzy pants and sweatshirt and had barely had time to feed Saffron and collapse on the couch with a book when a knock at my door sent dread through me.

  Brian. I hadn't seen him for a few weeks, but he'd left several moping messages on my voice mail, first telling me he'd found a job, although not one he liked naturally, and then saying how much he missed our 'friendship'. Far more likely he wanted to have sex again, which of course I wouldn't do, or wanted to dump on me, which I so didn't want to let him do.

  Screwing up my face into hideous expressions to release my frustration, I forced myself off the couch and toward the front door. I was nearly there when a thought struck me.

  He wanted to see me, but I didn't have to see him.

  I went back to the couch and sat perched on the edge, wondering if that was actually true. Would I be able to ignore him until he went away? Or would it ruin my entire evening?

  He kept knocking, no doubt having heard my arrival, and I gave up. Maybe I didn't have to see him, but he didn't have to leave me alone either, and that was what I wanted. The fastest way to get it was to see him and give him what he wanted.

  I yanked open my door. "What?"

  He blinked.

  Rage, at myself and at him, filled me. I shouldn't have given in and he shouldn't have kept harassing me. "It must be important or you wouldn't keep knocking, so what d
o you want?"

  He sighed, his whole body radiating dejection. "I had a bad day. I really need to talk."

  Oh, no. No no no. My precious evening off, wasted listening to Brian whine? "I can't."

  He deflated further. "Got a date with him?"

  I considered lying but didn't want to. "No. It's my night off, my only one for ages, and I need to relax."

  "We can relax together, can't we?"

  I doubted it. "I truly need to be alone tonight. I'm sorry."

  His head tilted a bit to the side, like he was listening to a foreign language and trying to pick out a few words. "But I need to talk. I'm probably going to get fired."

  Joy flared through me. Without a job he'd have to move out. Immediately after the delight, though, came guilt. What kind of monster would be happy about Brian losing his job and home? The guilt said, "Fine, but not here," and forced me into the hall and into his apartment.

  Of course, once I was in I couldn't get out, and I sat on the couch trying to be sympathetic and biting my tongue not to point out all the ways he'd brought his misfortune on himself. Brian was clearly the worst kind of employee, passive-aggressive and unwilling to give even an ounce more than he had to, and my sympathies were entirely with his boss and not with him.

  He wasn't listening to me, though. As he droned on and I attempted to interject a few hints that his behavior might be part of the problem, I realized that he was simply ignoring everything that didn't fit into his own view. He was perfect and his boss was a jerk, all of his bosses had been jerks by some amazing coincidence, and nothing I said would change his opinion.

  He didn't want his opinion changed anyhow. He didn't want my help either. He wanted me to say it wasn't his fault, to agree his boss was a jerk and console him at his bad luck. He wanted to feel like a victim, like someone who'd been hard done by, instead of being forced to see himself as the cause of all his problems.

  Charles had been much the same way, insisting that if only I stopped trying to have a career everything would be fine. I'd believed that, at least to a degree, but now it hit me hard: if I had given up on the career, it wouldn't have fixed our marriage. Some other problem would have popped up, because the real problem was that he wanted the kind of wife I didn't want to be. We saw the world differently and nothing would ever change that.