Just Desserts (22 page)

Their sweat-slicked bodies sliding against each other. The way he trailed his tongue between her breasts, over her belly, between her legs. He had touched her in ways she had never been touched before. She had wanted to do things with him, to him, that she hadn't dreamed of until that moment.

Deep inside her thirty-eight-year-old-body lurked the soul of her seventeen-year-old self, who craved romance the way other girls craved chocolate. She had to keep her eye on that girl or she would get both of them in trouble.

Backstage

They were doing a stripped-down version of the tour show, tailored for the hotel showroom, which meant only four trucks filled with equipment instead of the fifteen they usually needed.

The run-through had gone well. Light machines, laser effects, the view screen that would accompany some of the old songs, all had worked the way they were supposed to. There had been a spot of trouble during the sound check but his people were on it.

Tommy, however, had been running on autopilot. Dress had been less than terrific even if nobody had the cojones to tell him so to his face. Usually everything in his life dropped away when he hit the stage and the spotlight found him, but not today.

“Is she here?” Tommy asked when Finn showed up backstage.

“She's here.”

“That's all you're gonna give me?”

“That's all I have,” Finn said. “She's here. The cakes are here.”

“How does she look?”

“Professional.”

“Good,” he said. “I like that. It shows that she's serious.”

“She's definitely serious,” Finn said.

“How about the cakes?”

“They're great. You'd swear you were looking at the real deal.”

“And the drums?”

“She's an artist, Tom. It shows.”

“Why do I get the feeling you're not telling me everything?”

Finn said nothing. Not a good sign.

“Is Lizzie with her?”

“Lizzie stayed home. She's coming down with the flu.”

“Damn,” Tommy swore. “I wanted to meet her.”

“You'll meet her,” Finn said. “Just not tonight.”

“Willow knows something's wrong. I think she's afraid I'm going to back out.”

“Are you?”

“Not a chance in hell, but she might when she finds out about Hayley.”

“You're better off she's not here tonight,” Finn said.

Willow was smarter than people gave her credit for. She would know the story the second she looked into Hayley's eyes and all hell would break loose.

Anton, in his requisite black leather, joined them. “We're going with the three/four/three high-energy intro and no intermission, right, boss?”

Tommy nodded. “Gotta get 'em on their feet.”

But then getting the crowd on its feet had never been a problem for Tommy Stiles.

 

Last-minute prep work had reached fever pitch. Hotel staff raced around the ballroom at warp speed performing last-minute miracles while Hayley guarded the cakes and tried to stay out of their way.

“It's crazy today,” one of the bartenders said as he joined her.

“Yes, it is.”

He was young, gorgeous, and reeking with insincerity.

“I hear you're with the band.”

“Not really,” Hayley said, answering his smile with an insincere one of her own. “I know one of the members, that's all.”

“That's known as being with the band, babe.” He inched a little closer and lowered his voice. “I'm a singer too.”

“Really,” she said. “I bake cakes.”

He glanced over at the amazing (if she did say so herself) display of virtuoso baking. “Cool.” A beat pause meant to convey interest. “Listen, I'm the best thing to come along in years. I almost made it through the first round of judging when
Idol
came to South Philly. I was only two songs away from showing that English fucker what I can do.”

“Wow,” she said. It was the best she could come up with.

“I could put the After Life back on the charts.”

“I thought they were on the charts.”

“Hell, no. They haven't been on the charts since 2003.”

“Interesting.”

He fished a CD jewel case from a secret pocket and handed it to her. “Pass it on to your boyfriend,” he said in a conspiratorial whisper. “I've got what they need.”

Clearly she was the only person who wasn't secretly hoping to be a rock star. The news that she had a connection to one of the After Life musicians spread faster than wildfire through the Pine Barrens during a drought. She had fielded CDs, 8-by-10 glossies, and résumés from just about every single member of the waitstaff, bar staff, and hotel kitchen.

She was starting to feel like a baker/talent agent.

During breaks in the madness she had managed to check in twice with Fiona. “
Ugly Betty
is still on,” Fee had complained. “Don't call again until
Grey's Anatomy
is over.” Thursday was Fee's night for television and she didn't suffer interruptions gladly. Hayley almost wished she could be there to see the fireworks if Jane showed up before ten p.m.

Lizzie got on the extension and begged for details. “They think I'm with the band,” Hayley had said to her daughter's delighted laughter. “They saw me talking to Finn and jumped to conclusions. I'm now the most popular woman in the ballroom.”

“Channel Three's covering the concert for the ten o'clock news. Make sure they know you're local.”

Lizzie rattled off a list of things she absolutely, positively had to do in order to snag publicity for Goldy's Bakery and Hayley had laughed while she yes'd her daughter.

“You won't do any of this, will you?” Lizzie had asked.

“I'll do what I can, Lizzie.” Mostly she hoped the cakes would do it for her.

“Grab the spotlight, Mom!” Lizzie ordered. “You'll never get a chance like this again!”

Two encores and five standing ovations later, the show was over and every man, woman, and child in South Jersey who had ever met, gone to school with, dated, or gotten drunk with Tommy Stiles somehow found his or her way backstage to greet their old friend. The hallway and dressing rooms were bursting with people who had been there for Tommy and the After Life from the beginning and they all had stories they wanted to share.

Some of those stories were about Finn. Every time he managed to get closer to the door somebody from his past jumped out and grabbed him by the arm, eager to share their memories of his parents.

They meant well. He knew that. He wanted their memories, their stories, but not now. Right now all he really wanted was to get to Hayley before anyone else did.

Tommy's mother, CeCe, had brought a group of friends up from her beachfront retirement village in Naples for the occasion. CeCe was a refurbished eighty-something redhead who relished her minor celebrity status as mother of a rock star. She also wasn't above feeding minor tidbits to the tabloids if the spirit moved her.

“Finney!” CeCe wrapped her birdlike arms around him and kissed the air in the vicinity of his armpit. “It's been too long!”

He made all the right noises. “Some crowd you brought with you.” He gestured toward Tommy, who was surrounded by a mob of tanned, retired Floridians.

“I'm so proud of my Thomas,” she said. “I feel sorry for children who never got the necessary encouragement from their parents.”

Finn smiled and said nothing. He remembered the stories about CeCe's attempts to thwart Tommy's music career and push him toward adventures in life insurance.

“It was good to see you onstage,” CeCe was saying. “Your father would have been just as proud as I am.”

He asked a few polite questions about life on Florida's Gulf Coast as he eased toward the door. Anton, who had been sipping a mineral water while he chatted up one of the backup singers, turned to make an escape but Finn was too quick for him.

“CeCe, you remember Anton, don't you?”

CeCe turned an assessing eye on the bald-headed drummer. “You've gained weight, Anton. You should go back on South Beach.”

He would pay for this later but right now all he could think about was getting to Hayley.

Tommy was trying to extricate himself from the crowd. “We're missing the party, people,” he announced. “Why don't we move this to the ballroom?”

Finn pushed his way through the crowd in the hallway, past the curious faces, the photographers, the hangers-on. He didn't have time to wait for an elevator. He took the fire stairs two at a time.

“Hey!” a security guard stopped him as he popped out on the ballroom level. “Where's the fire?”

He stopped while the guy checked out the all-access pass hanging from a cord around his neck.

“Good show,” the security guard said.

“Thanks.” He was already in motion.

The hotel staff had worked their magic and transformed the ballroom into a galaxy of black velvet sky and brilliant stars. Pale ivory candles glowed from every available surface. Music spilled out from hidden speakers and vied with the sounds of laughter and conversation. He couldn't get his bearings. Roaming bands of reporters carrying plates piled high with lobster and shrimp walked right past him without a glance.

First the swag, then the interview. They had their priorities.

Like her father, Hayley attracted a crowd. He felt an odd tugging in the vicinity of his heart as he caught sight of her standing near the cake table. Somebody with an eye for drama had situated baby spots aimed directly at the edible drum set and the shimmering gold and platinum record cakes. No sugary flowers. No tiers. No pastel swirls. There was nothing familiar about what she had created. The design owed nothing to anybody. It was new and fresh and totally hers.

She had earned this. She deserved all the good things that came from it. Whatever else happened, she would have this launching pad.

She hadn't noticed him yet. She was speaking to a reporter from one of the local television stations while a camera crew focused in on her phenomenal creations. Another camera crew waited its turn as the glitterati, always looking for the next big thing, gathered.

She looked young, eager, utterly professional. If she was nervous, it didn't show. Her laughter was natural, unforced. You would think she had been facing the cameras all her life.

Someone tugged at his pants leg and he looked down to see Gigi, Tommy's youngest, smiling up at him.

“I got ice cream,” she said with a big grin. “Now I want cake.”

“Everybody wants cake,” he said, scooping her up in his arms. “Even grown-ups.”

He glanced around and sure enough there was Margaux, Tommy's most recent ex-wife, striding toward them. Margaux worked as on-air talent for one of the bigger, more successful, cable news outlets. Mother and daughter both had curly black hair and big smiles but only Gigi had Tommy's blue-green eyes.

“Hello, Finn.” Margaux kissed him on both cheeks and he returned the gesture. “Leave it to my girl to find the ice cream and cake.”

He was on automatic pilot as they exchanged pleasantries. Margaux, of course, noticed immediately.

“So you weren't joking when you said you liked cake.” She inclined her head in Hayley's direction. “She does great work, doesn't she?”

“Amazing,” he said, trying to figure out how to get away without arousing Margaux's investigative reporter's instincts. “Listen, I—”

“Go,” she said as he put Gigi down. “I promised LeeLee we'd have a chat.”

The ballroom was quickly filling up with people. The famous, the infamous, and the in-between were making beelines for the carving stations and the bar. CeCe and her band of merrymakers were scouting out the best tables. LeeLee and Margaux were loading up their plates with shrimp while Zach and Winston, terminally teenaged, watched Gigi devour a dish of chocolate ice cream. Sherri, Tommy's first wife, was holding court at one of the bigger tables with her three daughters, two sons-in-law, and four grandchildren.

Willow was conspicuously absent.

So was Tommy.

He might not have another chance.

 

The reporter from the Atlantic City affiliate was either a great actress or genuinely interested in the art of decorating cakes.

Not that it mattered. As far as Hayley was concerned, she could hold up Twinkies as the standard of baking nirvana as long as she gave Goldy's Bakery a plug on the eleven o'clock news.

“Cal Rivera from News Philly.” Another reporter took her place. “We're talking to Hayley Goldstein, owner and chief baker of Goldy's, a landmark shop in Lakeside, New Jersey.” He turned to Hayley with a big I-sent-my-dentist-to-Maui smile. “So tell us, Hayley, how did you manage to turn cookies into a set of drums?”

She told the story again. She had told it so many times this evening that she could recite it in her sleep.

Cal Rivera nodded. She could see his mind leaping ahead to what he would say next.

The cameras zoomed in on the gold record cakes.

“These edible works of art represent just a few of the gold and platinum records won by Tommy Stiles and the After Life over the years.”

She explained the process for him in quick, manageable sound bites of information, making sure to lavish praise on her friends and staff for helping her out. If she didn't, she would need one of Tommy Stiles's bodyguards to escort her home.

Cal Rivera looked over her left shoulder. His smile widened. “We've been joined by one of the After Life's band members.”

She knew before she turned around.

Finn was standing about six feet away. He shook his head. “Finish your interview. I can wait.”

Cal Rivera, however, had other ideas.

Finn did his best to turn the conversation back to Hayley's cakes but the reporter had a particular agenda in mind and there was no going back.

“Sorry,” Finn said when the television crew moved on in search of other prey. “I didn't mean to interrupt.”

“Rocker trumps baker,” Hayley said. “I don't blame them. I was out of things to say anyway. The next step was reciting my recipe for double-chocolate-chip cookies.”

“You're the most popular woman in the place,” he said, noting the huge stack of business cards on the table.

“I can't believe I ever thought about backing out on this. Thank God Lizzie kept me on track.”

“You really thought about backing out?”

“Only every other second since we signed the contract. I thought you drove down to deliver Chinese food and some bad news. I figured it would go easier on my pride if I backed out instead of waiting to be fired.”

“Take another look at those cakes,” he ordered her, “then tell me who would back out of a deal with the baker.”

Her cell vibrated against her hip. “Lizzie's phoned at least five times. I can finally tell her we might be getting some TV time.”

“You're not going to answer it?”

She glanced at the phone. “She's texting. Texting means nonemergency. I'm not morally bound to respond to a text immediately.”

“Another example of the baker's code?”

“Nope,” she said, smiling up at him. “An example of the mother's code.”

“Are you ready to go?”

“Not while there's still cake to be eaten.”

“Your workday's over,” he reminded her. “Union rules are in play. The hotel's waitstaff slices and serves. So how about we get something to eat.”

“I'm starving, but Tommy Stiles is coming this way right now and if I don't at least get to see him up close so I can tell Michie if he's had a face lift or not, then she will absolutely never speak to me again as long as we live, which, I hope, will be a very long time.”

 

She wanted him to laugh and he wished he could, but the adrenaline surge in his veins made it hard for him to think. What he wanted to do was grab her hand and make a run for it, but Tommy and Anton were just a few feet away.

This was a hell of a time to start praying but prayer was all he had left.

“Hayley!” Anton pulled her into a warm bear hug. “I heard the style editor from
People
talking about you.”

“Don't tease me,” she warned him. “My cakes are serious business.”

“Expect a phone call tomorrow. She's going to include you in a round-up piece she's putting together for one of their special issues.”

Great, Anton. Keep talking about cakes and magazines until I can get her away from here.

Too late. Tommy broke away from a star gone nova and stepped forward.

“Tommy Stiles,” he said, extending his hand. “Great job.”

Hayley extended her right hand. “Thanks,” she said with a big smile. “I'm Hayley Goldstein.”

“From Goldy's,” Tommy said. His eyes never left hers. “Thanks for taking the job on such short notice. I appreciate it.”

“I'm one of those people who thrive on pressure, which is a good thing since I'm the mother of a teenage girl.”

“The charming and witty Lizzie.” Tommy was almost beaming with pride. How could Hayley not see it? “Is she here?”

“She's home tonight. She might be coming down with the flu, or at least I thought it was the same flu her aunt Michie has, but Fee is with her tonight and it's looking like it's really just one of those twenty-four-hour things, which makes me very very grateful for flu shots.” She started to laugh. “Too much information. Sorry! I'm always doing that.”

“Not even close to enough information,” Tommy said, laughing with her. “So who's Fee? Another child?”

“My aunt,” Hayley said. “I lived with her when I was in high school.”

They were completely easy and natural with each other. If Finn didn't know better, he would think they had known each other forever. One second Hayley had been giddy and starstruck and the next she was chatting away with Tommy like they were old friends.

Except they weren't old friends. He knew it. Tommy knew it. Only Hayley was in the dark.

“Sorry to interrupt but it's getting late. Hayley and I were going to go out and grab something to eat.”

Tommy looked like he had forgotten Finn was standing there with them. “You're going out to eat when there are three carving stations, a chocolate fountain, and these amazing cakes?”

Hayley pointed toward her starched white uniform. “I'm the hired help. They frown on having us socialize with civilians.”

“You're my guest,” Tommy said, ignoring the look Finn shot him. “There won't be any problem.”

“I really appreciate the invitation, Mr. Stiles—”

“Tommy.”

She grinned at him. “Tommy, I really appreciate the invitation, but if I'm going to get more work from some of your famous friends, I don't want them to think I expect dinner and cocktails with the contract.”