Dear Diary (15 page)

“Yes?” he asked.

“I want to know when you want this fabulous gourmet meal,” she said, closing the door behind her and folding her arms across her chest.

“How about Friday night?”

“Okay, but since it’s going to take me hours to prepare, I’ll have to leave work early.”

“You’re not chained to your desk here. You can leave anytime you like.”

Since that was undeniably true, Rory switched tactics. “There is no way this meal is going to be any good. I’m going to make certain of it. So why don’t you let me take you out instead?”

“Shame on you, Rory. You’re trying to weasel out of this and I am not going to miss out on one of Shard Limited’s most celebrated gourmet cooks.”

“You’re serious?”

“I paid good money for this treat. Friday night, you’re cooking for me. And it better be good, because I’m bringing a date.”

Rory stared at him, frozen. Of course he was bringing a date. It was dinner for two, wasn’t it? There was no reason to feel so betrayed. “I’m sure she would prefer being taken out.”

“
She
is a
he
. I’ve invited John Marsden. He’s looking forward to meeting you.”

“You’re bringing Marsden for dinner?” Rory practically shrieked.

“That’s right.”

It was one thing to tease with Nick, but it was a whole other prospect to fail dismally in the eyes of one of Shard Ltd.’s biggest clients. One of
her
biggest clients. Oh, sure, Nick and John Marsden were friends, but she’d be damned if they enjoyed themselves at her expense.

“Is there‌—‌any way‌—‌I can talk you out of this?” she asked.

“Uh-uh.”

He was enjoying this. Way more than he should. Drawing herself up, she declared through her teeth, “Then be prepared to eat the best meal of your life.”

“I’m absolutely counting on it,” he told her.

DEAR DIARY — NANCY BUSH

Chapter Seven

I am never going to trust Nick Shard again. I could cry. Swear to God. Why couldn’t he bring some woman to dinner? Why does it have to be someone whose opinion about me matters? I’m going to kill Nick before the night is over. Chop him up with my chef’s knife and turn him into a meal prepared by one of Shard Limited’s most celebrated gourmet cooks. Yessirree. It’s a plan. A meal plan. Oh, God…

She wasn’t really that terrible of a cook. She knew enough basic information to find her way around the kitchen. Good grief, she’d been feeding herself for years. But to prepare a meal for Nick and John Marsden… She couldn’t fail. She just couldn’t. She would never hear the end of it from Nick. And even though John Marsden was his friend and undoubtedly already knew the details of how she’d gotten herself into this predicament, she couldn’t bear to think of the serious
har-har
the two men would have if she didn’t pull this off.

Okay, so what was the answer?

Rory looked around at the circle of cookbooks sprawled across her tiny counters. She’d won the concession: Nick and John were coming here, not to Nick’s condo. Of course the only reason he’d given in was because he still wasn’t fully unpacked, and God knew what kind of kitchen utensils and bowls and things he must possess anyway.

So here she was, with only a few hours left to salvage her pride, still unsure what to prepare. She glanced out the window, tense and irritable. Hazy clouds scattered rapidly across the sky. The weather had been just plain weird. Sunny one moment, cold and overcast the next, hailing the next.

She supposed she could fall back on bouillabaisse, but she’d be damned if she could think of anything to serve with it. And was fish stew really exotic enough to be worth one thousand dollars?

The doorbell rang. Muttering an expletive, Rory tore off her apron and stalked across the living room. Flinging open the door she was faced with her sister, Michelle, wearing jeans and a pullover. Since Michelle never just dropped by, much less wore anything as casual as her current attire, Rory was totally shocked.

“What are you doing here?” Rory demanded in surprise. “Where are the kids?”

“They’re with James. Oh, Rory.” She flung herself on the couch and burst into tears.

“Michelle.” Rory’s heart was in her throat.

Covering her face with her hands, Michelle said brokenly, “I’m so tired I can’t see straight. The twins haven’t been sleeping very well, and if I’m not up with one, it’s the other. James came home from work early and I just left. I just left!”

“Are you getting along any better with James?”

She shook her head, dropping her hands. Her blue eyes were pools of misery. “I’m so unhappy.”

“What can I do?”

“Nothing. Just let me be with you for a while. I just need some space.”

Rory hated seeing her sister so unbearably miserable. She felt helpless. But time was tick, tick, ticking by.

Problem peaked warily around the hall corner and meowed at Rory. Then he leaped to the couch, climbing into Michelle’s lap. Rory reached to remove him, but Michelle pulled him into her arms, hugging him in an absurdly childlike way. “Don’t take him away,” she pleaded.

“If you want him, he’s yours.”

As if surfacing from a deep sleep, Michelle focused on Rory for the first time. “You look frazzled yourself,” she said. “Did I interrupt something?”

“I have to create a feast in less than four hours.”

“Oh, God. The dinner you’re making for Nick, that’s
tonight
?”

“Afraid so.”

“I’m sorry,” she said in a small voice. “I didn’t mean to foul you up.”

“I don’t care about the dinner,” Rory lied. “Not when you’re this unhappy. I wish I could do something. Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.”

Michelle shook her head, fighting back fresh tears. “Let me help you.”

“Are you kidding? And be accused of bringing in replacement help? No way.”

“So what are you serving?” Michelle asked, sniffing.

Since talking about Rory’s meal seem to help Michelle get her mind off her misery, Rory went to the kitchen, collected one of the cookbooks and brought it back to her. “How about
saumon truite au caviar noir, beurre blanc
? Which, if my French serves me correctly, is some kind of salmon with black caviar and white butter.”

Michelle grimaced. “Yuck. I hate caviar.”

“Me, too. I only thought of it because Nick hates it, too.”

She managed a smile. “You’re falling for him, Rory.”

“Because I want to feed him something he won’t eat?”

“I know you, and you wouldn’t be so worked up if this dinner didn’t matter.”

“He’s bringing John Marsden with him.
The
John Marsden. The one with the
millions and millions
.”

“How much did Nick pay for this meal?”

Rory wished she didn’t have to answer. “A thousand dollars.”

“He wants you, Rory,” Michelle said in the tone of one who knows.

“Michelle,” Rory began in a long-suffering voice.

“I know what to do about tonight. Just take my advice. And thanks, Rory, for being here when I need you.” Michelle stood up and hugged her fiercely. “Now, I’ll let you in on a little secret…”

Nick checked his watch for about the twentieth time. He and John had spent the greater part of the last five hours dawdling over lunch, then heading out to the marina to look at his boat, the
Aqua Knot
. They’d gone over every square inch of the magnificent craft, but now Nick was anxious to leave. Really anxious. The sun felt hot and itchy on his crown even though the day was cool, cold even, and he was restless and uncomfortable.

“So what do you think?”

Nick pulled his gaze away from the sparkling horizon. His eyes hurt. “Sorry, John. I wasn’t listening.”

“Well, what do you think of the
Aqua Knot
? I’ve been pointing out her virtues for the past hour and a half and you haven’t said a word.”

John Marsden was in his fifties, had been a friend of Nick’s father, and was something of a mentor for Nick. He’d encouraged Nick’s interest in investments right from the start. When Nick had expressed an interest in moving back to Seattle, John had heartily endorsed the idea. They both agreed it was one of the best decisions Nick had made in a long, long time.

Except right now he felt god-awful. What the hell was the matter with him?

“The
Aqua Knot
’s fabulous. Beautiful,” he assured John.

Marsden gently tapped his cigar on the boat’s rail. “You’ve got to come fishing with me soon. No more putting me off.”

“When have I ever put you off?”

“I invited you to take a cruise this evening, didn’t I?”

Nick inwardly smiled. “I told you, I’m busy tonight.” Nick had lied about bringing Marsden with him to Rory’s place for dinner. He just liked seeing her get all worked up; he couldn’t help himself. But he’d planned on being alone with her from the first. He wanted her company to himself. In fact, he couldn’t wait to be with her.

Except he felt like he might fall over.

“Have you got any aspirin?” he asked when it looked as if Marsden was about to launch into another round of persuasive arguments about the evening cruise.

“You don’t feel well?” Marsden squinted against the smoke curling from his cigar.

“I’ve been better.”

“Come on below.”

Nick followed Marsden down the narrow steps to his captain’s cabin. He was given two tablets and swallowed them without water. Outside, hail suddenly pelted the boat’s deck and hull.

“Strange weather.” Marsden shook his head, then eyed Nick thoughtfully. “You do look kind of pale, son. Maybe you should give up this hot date, huh?”

“Not a chance.”

Thirty minutes later Nick was fighting Friday night traffic back to Rory’s apartment. His head throbbed. Hail rained down in intense, sporadic bursts. Traffic crawled. His wipers slapped rhythmically back and forth.

Through a wet blur, he saw the car in front of him suddenly slide sideways, narrowly miss a collision, then feel the full brunt of about five, blasting, angry horns. Nick glanced over. The front right tire was flopping around the wheel well. The driver, a young woman with a pale, frightened face, sat frozen in the car.

Through his review mirror he saw her open her door. Black heels stepped cautiously into shallow rivers of water running down the road.

“Damn,” Nick muttered, pulling his own car over. He glanced down at his cell phone and saw that it was dead. Swearing succinctly, he reminded himself that he needed to buy a new car charger. He braced himself, then threw open his driver’s door and sloshed through standing water to where the woman stood shivering in a sleeveless dress.

Blinking against the now torrential rain, she said, “It’s my tire.”

“Do you have AAA?”

“AAA?” she repeated blankly.

Oh, yeah… this was great. “How about a cell phone?”

She hesitated, “No… I, um…”

Inhaling a deep breath Nick responded, “Where’s your spare? And a jack, we’re gonna need a jack.”

She nodded. “A jack.”

“In the trunk, probably,” he said grimly, coughing. Dimly he realized he must’ve picked up some bug. Tisdale’s probably.

As she tottered to the rear of the vehicle, another squall rushed over them, dumping tons of rain. He wished with all his might that he was with Rory, but instead he was helping a wide-eyed, half-drowned woman.