Fudgeballs And Other Sweets (13 page)

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Authors: Lori Copeland

BOOK: Fudgeballs And Other Sweets
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The door of the fudge shop opened, and Dave stuck his head in. “Jenny, have you seen—”
Jake came boiling out of the back, Princess on his heels. Both dogs were yapping at the top of their lungs.
“Jake!” he bellowed, holding Princess's broken collar in his hand. “I had a feeling he might be here when I found this.” He held out what was left of the pink rhinestone-studded collar.
“Too bad he didn't run to China!” she shouted, making no attempt to cover her disgust.
His gaze took in the carnage, and he frowned. “What happened?”
Too furious to speak, she could only point at the table of smashed, half-eaten fudgeballs. Finding her voice, she spoke through gritted teeth. “Get your
dog
out of my sight before I string him up by his hind legs! He's ruined my candy and involved Princess in his recklessness.”
Dave stiffened. “Now wait a minute. Princess was in on this, too, wasn't she?”
“Jake was the ringleader!” Jenny shrieked. “That's a White House order! He's just ruined a huge account! I'll have to stay up the rest of the night to make new ones. The fudgeballs have to be on the morning flight to Washington!”
“It's not the end of the world.” Dave studied the gooey carnage. “Call Bill and tell him two dogs ate his fudge—” His hand shot up.
“Don't
throw that spoon at me.” Frowning, he reached for an apron. “Just tell me what to do and I'll help.”
“I'm in no mood for corny jokes. Go home.” She snatched an apron off a peg and wrapped it around her waist “When are you moving?” she grumbled. She was tired, out of sorts and weepy. An already rotten day had just been topped off with this. “I've had it with your dog—”
“What?”
She refused to look at him. “I said when are you moving?”
“Wait a minute.” He put a spoon down. “What do you mean, when am
I
moving? You've got it backward, haven't you? I'm not moving—you're moving, to Mackinac City.”
She whirled. “No,
you're
moving to Mackinac City. I'm moving into your space.” There. She'd said it, and he knew. It was out, and she was relieved.
He advanced on her, his eyes narrowed. “Let me get this straight. You think you're moving into my space—the kite shop?”
She lifted her chin. “Yes.”
“Are you
nuts?
What about Loyal? The lease?”
“What about Loyal and the lease? That's
your
problem. I've
made
all the arrangements for you.”
“You
what?
”
Was he hard of hearing? “I looked at the new space with you. You wanted my approval, I gave it. You were too busy to call Loyal and asked me to do it. I called Loyal, and he wanted to know about the lease, I told you, you said you'd call him—”
“I
did
call him—to set up your lease! I even sent him the damn money as a favor to you. I thought you were having financial troubles!”
“Me?
I'm not having financial troubles—or I wasn't until now!” The implication of his words was beginning to sink in. There had been a colossal misunderstanding. Sickness washed over her. She wasn't going to move her store. She didn't have the money to move. “My loan is only for the expansion in the building I occupy. It's not enough to cover the Mackinac City property.”
“Where in the hell did you ever get the idea you could take over my floor space?”
She stiffened. “Hank Linstrom told me I could have it, that you didn't have a lease.”
He held his hand up to stop her. “Hank Linstrom is no longer employed by Rockfield.”
She lifted her chin. “How do
you
know so much about Mr. Linstrom?”
“
I'm
the one who fired him, damn it.”
“You?” This was nuts! She hated arguments—especially when she didn't know what the hell they were talking about.
He crossed his arms arrogantly. “I own Rockfield.”
It took a moment for the information to soak in. When it did, she knew her moving into the kite shop space was a moot point. She felt confused, stunned, disappointed, but mostly angry and hurt. “Why didn't Mr. Linstrom tell me you owned... More importantly, why didn't
you
tell me?”
“It never came up.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I know you're upset, I should have told you, but when you started making arrangements to move out—or at least I thought you were—I didn't see the need.”
“Didn't see the
need?
” Her anger rocketed.
“Look, Jenny, I know you're hurt. This is all a crazy misunderstanding, but we can work it out. I can loan you the money to move to Mackinac City—”
“You know what you can do with your money, Dave Kasada. I don't want your money, your excuses, your dog, and most of all, I don't want you! Now get out!” She shoved him toward the door.
“Dammit, be reasonable! We're adults, we can work this—”
“Forget it.” She'd had enough for one day. She'd had enough for a lifetime!
She slammed the door shut, then immediately opened it again.
“And that goes for your dog, too!”
9
J
AKE HUDDLED DEEPER into the folds of his skin. “If it wasn't for your sweet tooth, we wouldn't be in this trouble. I get blamed for everything.”
“I don't understand,” Princess fretted. “I just can't get enough candy lately. I never liked it before. And you know what else?”
Jake yawned and smacked his lips. “There's more?”
“I have this craving for a big...T-bone.”
The bone. She's not getting the bone. She can wag that tail as fast as she wants. She's not getting the bone.
“Yeah? You look different. You puttin' on weight?”
Princess burst into tears, whining, “Just a few weeks ago, you told me I had the best figure on a poodle you'd ever seen.”
“I'm not sayin' you're fat,” he growled. “I just thought you'd filled out some. I ain't sayin' it don't look good on you—”
She whined louder.
“Oh, cripes,” Jake huffed, “I can't say anything lately without you bawling. What's wrong now?”
Princess wiped her eye dry with her paw. “I don't know. My human gets something called PMS. Do you think I might have caught it?”
Jake raised his head and studied her. “PMS? Yeah, that's it. Poodle Misery Syndrome. You must have a touch of it.”
Whimpering, she laid her head on his neck. “I'm feeling so blue. I miss having a baby around.”
Jake scooted close to her and let out a quivering breath. “Me, too.”
 
THE NEXT MORNING, Jenny stirred nuts into a nearly cooled vat of fudge, trying to vent her anger. She wasn't sure who she'd like to shoot first—Loyal the Realtor for not being specific, Dave for not telling her who he really was or the dogs for destroying the White House fudge.
Lack of sleep was getting to her. She reached to rub her shoulder and her hand caught in the chain around her neck. The thin gold strained, then she felt it slip. Her eye caught the twinkle of a diamond as it fell into the vat of fudge. “No!” she yelled, trying to catch it before it sank to the bottom.
“Something wrong, dearie?”
“Everything is wrong, Mrs. Wilcox.” She stuck her arm deep into the sticky, warm chocolate, her fingers desperately searching for the diamond heart.
Mrs. Wilcox watched her dig around in the vat of fudge. “You feelin' all right?”
“Fine, thanks.” She felt like crap. She had a loan for expansion and nowhere to go. Dave, the kindly kite master, had turned into Attila the Hun, avoiding her like the flu. Her feet hurt, and the new antibacterial soap had caused an ugly rash to break out on her hands.
Where was her necklace? She wedged her other arm in and began to dig through the cooling fudge. She should leave it in the middle of a fudgeball and feed it to Kite Man. No. No matter how mad she was right now, his gift meant a lot to her, and she had to find it. Thick chocolate covered her arms up to her elbows. If that wasn't bad enough, the entire batch would have to be made over. Again.
“New method of making fudge?”
Jenny lifted her head to see Dave standing in the doorway. “It's the personal touch.”
He smiled. “At least you're talking to me.”
She groaned and pulled her arms out of the vat. “Not really. We have nothing to say to each other.” It still unnerved her to learn the man she'd fallen in love with was a consummate liar. How could he have. tricked her about who he was?
“Jenny, be reasonable about this.” He followed her into the back room where she washed her arms in the mop sink. “Can't we at least discuss it?”
“Why? So you can say, ‘Jenny, I forgot to mention I own this building and plan to throw you out on your fanny because I want to expand the kite shop?'” She turned and walked to the front with him close on her heels.
“Wasn't that what you were about to do to me?”
She turned to look at him. “No. I was helping you find a place.”
“No.” He crossed his arms. “
I
was helping
you
relocate. I thought it was all settled.
I
called Loyal, made arrangements for us to see the property, you liked it, said it looked great to you, so
I
called Loyal back and told him to draw up a lease, at your instruction.”
“My instruction?
I
told Loyal to draw up the lease at your instruction.”
“I sent a deposit!”
“That's because you're the one moving, not me!”
“Children.” Mrs. Wilcox came out of the back room. “Customers will hear you.”
Jenny glanced to see a few people standing near the counter. Lowering her voice, she issued a curt, formal request. “Will you kindly step into the storeroom .”
He followed her to the back, pinching off a piece of fudge as he passed the marble cooling table.
“Don't do that.”
Her anger threatened to recede as she perused his khaki slacks and blue Polo shirt. Why did he always have to look so dam good? She hadn't realized how much she needed him—yes, she needed him. Not just physically, but emotionally. Who was she kidding? All she could think about lately was him and how she wished she
had
been carrying his child. If Fudgeballs had to leave the Island, she'd never see him again.
When they entered the dark storage room, she opened her mouth to say something then closed it when he drew her into his arms and kissed her. It felt so good to be in his arms. He made her feel safe and protected. Through all the misunderstandings, her feelings hadn't changed. The taste of his lips and the musky scent of his skin still affected her in a magical way. She wished they were alone, where the feel of his naked body against hers would momentarily assuage their problems.
When their lips parted, he wouldn't let her go. “Will you listen to me? I'm sorry I didn't tell you I own Rockfield, but it didn't seem important at the time. Hell, it
wasn't
important until a few weeks ago.”
She met his steady gaze. “You lied to me.”
“When? I have never once lied to you.”
“You misled me, then. Why didn't you tell me I was the one moving instead of letting me think you were about to vacate your space?”
“It was a hell of a misunderstanding, but you can't blame me. You should have told me what you were planning to do.”
Her courage wilted along with her anger. Slumping against his chest, she let him hold her. “What am I going to do? I can't afford to rent the space in Mackinac City—not yet. All my money has to go toward the expansion—new equipment. It's the only way the bank will fund me.”
“If it's just money you're worried about, don't be. I can loan—”
Pulling away, she wiped her nose. “I wouldn't hear of it.”
He took her arm. “Jenny, don't be a fool. Fudgeballs is growing. You've got a good thing going. Don't let pride make you throw it away.”
“I can't borrow another cent, Dave. I'm already in hock up to my eyeballs. The expansion would have doubled my profit, but now that can't happen. I'll have to struggle along in the space I have.” Her hand felt for the necklace that was no longer there. Tears burned her lids. “And there's something else you need to know.”
“You're going to buy Rockfield Corporation so you can stay here and throw me out?”
“Be serious.” Her fingers clutched at her throat. “I lost the necklace in a batch of fudge.”
He wiped a tear from her cheek. “I'll buy you another one.”
“I want
that
one.”
“Why do you insist on being difficult?”
“I'm sorry, Dave. I—”
“Dearie,” Mrs. Wilcox yelled through the open doorway. “Making fudge balls really paid off today. Look!” She held up a brown blob. “There're diamonds in the candy!” She handed Jenny the necklace.
Jenny's heart skipped a beat when she saw the heart embedded in the fudge. “Thank you.”
“Oh, Mr. Kasada, Mrs. Kasada is on the phone.”
Dave swore under his breath, releasing Jenny's arm. “Hold off making any decisions for a few days. Let me see what I can do. I'll talk to you later tonight.”
He left, and all she could do was stare at the door. Exactly what did he think he could do? she thought resentfully.
She was the one out in the cold.
 
DAVE PICKED UP the phone.
“I'm back, and we need to talk,” Nancy said curtly.
No Hello, how are you, sorry I haven't written to let you know how Megan is doing. Just, We need to talk. Well, she was right about that. They did need to talk. “Where's Megan?”
“She's here, and she's fine. Sorry I haven't gotten back with you,” Nancy apologized. “What's your schedule like?”
“I'm not too busy to have my daughter, if that's what you mean.”
“Can you get away for a few days, come to Chicago? We honestly need to talk, Dave, and not over the phone.”
“What's this about, Nancy?” He knew her tricks, and he wasn't falling for them.
“Megan.”
The solemnity of her voice scared him. What did she have up her sleeve this time? Full custody of Megan? Of course. She and her rich husband wanted it all, money, power
and
his daughter.
“Forget it, Nancy.”
“Dave, control your temper. This is serious. We need to talk. Can you be in Chicago by the end of the week?”
Dave snapped a pencil in half.
“Dave?”
“I can be there by Friday.”
“Good. I'll have Father draw up papers—”
“The hell you will! You won't do anything until I get there!” He held the receiver away from his ear as she hung up on him.
Have
Father
draw up papers? The salt air must have corroded her brain. She'd be in for the fight of her life if she thought he would relinquish custody of Megan. Jonathan Pharis might be loaded, but he didn't have a crutch to stand on when it came down to it. Dave was a good father, and no one and no amount of money could change that.
 
JENNY WAS ROUSED from a deep sleep by the doorbell. Rolling over to look at the clock, she groaned. Two o'clock. What nut was ringing her doorbell at this hour?
Scratching her head, she padded to the door, trying to focus. The two aspirin she'd taken earlier had her head spinning like a top.
She leaned against the doorway, closing her eyes. “Who is it?”
“Dave. Can I come in?”
“You selling cookies or something?”
“Let me in, Jenny.”
She yawned, unlatched the door and let it swing open. She stepped back as a rush of cool air trickled through her thin nightie.
Dave brushed past her. “Did I wake you?”
She closed the door, wondering why she hadn't grabbed a robe. “Of course, you woke me.” Pushing away from the door frame, she went into the kitchen. He followed.
“What are you doing up this time of the night?”
“I couldn't sleep.”
She filled the coffeepot with water. “Trouble?”
“Nancy wants me in Chicago by Friday.”
“Oh?” She measured coffee into a filter. She'd wondered all day about the significance of the call. “Did she say why?”
“Something to do with Megan. I think she's going to ask me to let Pharis adopt her.” He took a seat at the kitchen table. “I'll never allow that, Jenny. I can't.”
Jenny sat across from him. “I know.”
“I
won't
sign away my daughter. Nancy can be cruel, but even as coldhearted as she is, taking Megan is...”
“Dave, calm down,” Jenny said, laying her hand over his on the table. “You don't know that's what she wants. Just wait and see. You could be wrong.”
“I have a one hell of a headache.” He rubbed his temples to ease the dull throb. “Do you have any aspirin?”
“I'll get it, and the coffee.”
 
HE WATCHED HER leave the room, the sight of her oddly comforting. He needed her tonight like he'd never needed anyone before. She was his sanity. She was the only person who understood what he was going through, and he thanked God he had her.
It wouldn't surprise him if Nancy had found out he'd been seeing Jenny and wanted to punish him by taking Megan. Possible, but not probable. None of Nancy's friends hung around the island—it wasn't posh enough, and it certainly wasn't the south of France.

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