Love in the Morning (25 page)

“And you had scenes where you both talked about what a shitty cook I am. You had a lot of those scenes.” Lizzy's voice was flat, but her eyes were burning.

Amber shrugged. “So what? They didn't find anything after I got Teresa to throw the food out. The Board of Health didn't shut you down. And you got all that publicity. I don't see where you were really hurt at all.”

“You don't?” Lizzy started to move toward Amber. Her eyes had what Clark could only describe as a murderous gleam.

He locked his arm around her waist, holding her in place. She glanced up at him. He shook his head. “She's not worth it.” If anybody was going down for taking a swing at Amber, it wouldn't be Lizzy.

After another moment, she exhaled a shuddering breath, leaning back against his arm.

“You were the one who made me throw that food away. You were the one who made me wash the dishes. Three fucking times.” Teresa almost seemed more outraged at having to wash the dishes than she was at the ipecac. Maybe in her world dish washing was a bigger
faux pas
than poisoning.

“Well, I couldn't just leave the food sitting around, now could I? That would have gotten us both in trouble if the Board of Health tested it. It didn't hurt anything to throw the stuff out. And, excuse me, but those dishes really needed washing after everybody was barfing all over the place.” Amber compressed her lips in annoyance again.

“You ruined my party.” Teresa started to stalk toward her, high-heeled boots clicking on the parquet floor.

Clark thought about stopping her, but he had his hands full with Lizzy. Pleasantly full, of course. And besides, when push came to shove, he didn't particularly want to stop Teresa.

Amber narrowed her eyes. “You can't be mad. Jesus, will you just take a minute and think? I saved us. I got our contracts renewed. If it weren't for me, you'd have been thrown off the show. Both of us would have been. Thanks to me, the only one who got fired was Donna.”

“You. Ruined. My. Party.” Teresa's teeth were gritted tight, her eyes had the same murderous glint that Lizzy's had had before. For someone who probably didn't top five feet without her boots, she looked positively demonic.

Amber's blue eyes widened. After another moment she apparently concluded that discretion was the better part of valor and turned swiftly toward the door.

She wasn't swift enough. Teresa caught hold of her topknot, yanking back so that Amber lost her footing. The fact that she was wearing five-inch heels probably didn't help. “Let go of me,” she shrieked as she tumbled backward toward Teresa.

For a moment longer, they struggled in the middle of the room. Nobody else seemed any more interested in stopping them than Clark did. Then Amber pulled away, her face bright pink, hair hanging in a messy bunch on her shoulder. Some of it apparently wasn't her hair. “Damn you, you stupid slut, look at me. Just look at me. Look what you did. Just look what you did to me.”

“You think that's bad? Wait till you see what I'm going to do next.” Teresa lurched forward, aiming a punch in the general direction of Amber's jaw at the same time the door burst open behind them and the room was suddenly full of people, lights and cameras.

Clark pulled Lizzy backward toward the side of the room away from the action. The camera crew closed in on Amber and Teresa, surrounding them with people, but Clark could still hear Amber's occasional squawks and Teresa's snarls of outrage.

Slowly, the group moved toward the door again. Just as they stepped through, he heard some man ask, “And how did that make you feel, Amber?” Judging from the cascade of outraged squawks, the answer wasn't positive.

Ronnie closed the door behind them, shaking her head. The room was suddenly much quieter.

Dick was smiling as he rubbed his hands together. Of course, Dick was smiling. It was the kind of thing Dick lived for. “Oh, that went well.”

Nona shook her head, grimacing. “No, it didn't. We all heard what she said, and Teresa will probably tell them what she said. But Amber's too smart to admit it on camera. Lizzy's still on the hook.”

Lizzy shook her head. “No, I'm not. I don't care what Teresa thinks or what the
Lovely Ladies of LA
think. I wanted to know what happened, and I wanted to know it wasn't my fault. I wanted you all to know it too. And now that's happened. So it's over.” She nodded once, abruptly. “I'm fine.”

She didn't look fine. Her face was the color of parchment, and her lips still trembled as if she might burst into tears. But Clark figured he could do something about that once he'd gotten her back to Praeger House. “It's definitely over,” he said. “You won't need to worry about Teresa any more. And this whole thing should kick up enough dust to keep people from blaming you for anything.”
Most people, at least.
And who cares about the others?

Ronnie frowned, wrinkling that perfect forehead again. “Maybe I can help. Do you think Faisal might be interested in this?”

Dick narrowed his eyes. “In what?”

“In this.” She held out her phone, pressing something on the screen. All of a sudden they heard Amber's voice:
Ipecac syrup. I got it from my mom's medicine cabinet.

Dick stared at her, his lips moving into an incredulous grin. “You videoed it?”

Ronnie nodded. “Most of it. I mean I couldn't get all the questions because I was asking some of them, but when I figured out where the whole conversation was headed and what was going to happen, it looked like we might need to keep some kind of record, you know?”

Dick nodded slowly, his eyes gleaming with unholy light. “Oh, I know. I definitely know.”

“So anyway, I thought maybe the show might like to have this.” Ronnie frowned. “Except I don't know if they'd run it or not. And if they didn't, we'd lose our record of what Amber said she did.”

Dick's demonic smile broadened. “Oh, don't worry, sweetheart. We're going to make some copies of this. Lots of copies in fact. We'll pass one on to Faisal, but we might pass one of the others on to
Celebrity News.
”

Ronnie grimaced. “Not
Celebrity News.
They're mean. But we can find some other magazine, can't we?”

“We can.” Dick nodded. “We most definitely can.”

Nona pushed up from the table and embraced Ronnie. “You are a jewel, sweetie.”

Ronnie's cheeks flushed slightly as she gave them all one of her sparkling grins. “Thanks. I just wanted to make sure everything worked out the way it should. Those shows don't always do things the right way, you know?”

“I know,” Lizzy said softly. “Thanks, Ronnie.”

“You're welcome.” Ronnie grinned again. “Let's go see if Ted has any margaritas left, y'all.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

As it turned out, Ted had lots of margaritas left. Also beer and wine. They adjourned to the Blarney Stone to celebrate along with a sizeable group of Salt Box citizens.

Clark watched Lizzy dance with a ski instructor from the resort, telling himself he wasn't uncomfortable about it. She was the heroine of the hour, the woman who'd vanquished the Unlovely Ladies of LA. And all he wanted to do was spirit her away from this party in her honor and keep her in his bed until she admitted…something.

What that something was, he wasn't entirely sure. He seemed to have spent a lot of time lately trying not to define his feelings for Lizzy Apodaca. First there was getting the kitchen back on track. Then there was the Best of the Box contest and getting everything ready for it. Then there was Teresa's arrival and the whole
Lovely Ladies of LA
crisis. Then, finally, the Gala.

And it was all over now. Happily resolved. They could move on.

Which, in fact, was what was bothering him. Because Lizzy could move on to a lot better places than Salt Box now. Hell, she could even go back to Los Angeles if she wanted to, where she had family and a reputation. A reputation that would now be burnished bright by the end of Teresa's reign of terror.

She might want to leave unless he could think of a good reason to get her to stay.

He could give her a raise, of course. In fact, he probably should since she'd almost guaranteed that they'd get a great crowd for breakfast for the foreseeable future. He could hire more staff for the kitchen—another sure thing since he'd promised her he would and he now had several inquiries from locals who wanted to work with her. She could definitely use more hands, particularly if she was going to get a day off at some point so that they could wake up together.

You could tell her you love her.

He could. He should. Even though he was pretty sure he hadn't used the word
love
in a lot of years, and he'd never used it with someone he wasn't already related to. But he wasn't sure how much good it would do—if love would be enough to get her to stay.

And he wasn't sure she felt the same way, which scared him more than he liked to admit.

Nona dropped into the chair beside him, frowning. “Why aren't you dancing?”

He shrugged. “Maybe later.”

“All right, let me put it another way, why are you looking like you just lost something instead of winning big?”

He sighed. “Tired, I guess. It's been a long couple of weeks.”

“Right.” Nona picked up her beer. “She won't leave, you know. If that's what you're worried about.”

Clark stared at her. He'd never realized Nona had psychic abilities before. “Has she talked to you about it?”

Nona shook her head. “She's been pretty busy too. But I know she's not going to go back to California. You could make sure she doesn't, of course.”

He blew out a breath. “I don't know if I have that kind of power, Nona.”

She snorted. “Of course you do. I ain't blind, Denham. Neither is Lizzy.”

Clark felt like telling her he'd never felt less powerful in his life, but he didn't figure she needed to hear his biography just then. “What makes you think she'd want to stay here? We're not exactly the big-time—in LA she was a lot closer to the fast track.”

Nona shrugged. “She belongs here, Denham. Not everybody does. But she fits in. People like her. There's more to being a success than being in the big-time. She's found her spot. You'll just have to convince her if she doesn't see it on her own.”

He sighed again. “I'll talk to her about it, see what she thinks.”

“Do more than that.” Nona gave him a solemn look. “You'll be sorry if you don't.”

And God knew that was no more than the simple truth.

Lizzy's ski instructor partner delivered her back to the table. She unbuttoned the top two fastenings of her chef's coat so that Clark could see the black T-shirt she wore underneath, then dropped into the chair beside him. “Whoa, quite a party.”

Clark grinned. “Yeah, it's a victory celebration. So far the score is Salt Box two, Fairstein Productions zero.”

“I wouldn't say that.” She gave him a dry smile. “I'd be willing to bet they'll get great ratings from this confrontation. Particularly once the news gets out that Teresa and Amber actually came to blows. Girl fights always get attention.” She took a healthy swallow of one of Ted's prize-winning margaritas.

Clark stole a quick look at her face. She was still grinning, but her eyes looked tired. After all, it had been a tough couple of weeks. “How are you holding up?”

Her grin faded slightly. “I'm riding high on adrenaline at the moment, but sooner or later I'm going to crash. Can I count on you to get me back to Praeger House when I do?”

He kept his gaze fixed on hers, not smiling. “Always.”

Lizzy blinked, her cheeks flushing slightly. Then her lips moved into a faint smile. “You know, I think I can feel that crash coming on as we speak. Maybe we should head back.”

He nodded. “Sounds good.”

Nobody seemed to notice them leaving. Ted was watching Ronnie serve drinks to a table full of hikers. Desi was playing darts at the side of the room. Dick was deep in discussions with a dark-haired man he'd introduced as Faisal, their cameraman contact on the show.

Correction: one person was watching. Nona raised her glass in his direction, narrowing her eyes slightly. He swore he could read her thoughts.
Don't blow this, Denham.

Okay, he had his marching orders—not that he hadn't already figured that out. Time to have The Talk, wherever that might lead.

*****

There was a quick blast of chilly air when they stepped outside. October at altitude wasn't just brisk—it was cold. And all Lizzy had was her trusty chef's jacket. It might be time for another trip to Menninger's.

She realized she was entering that level of tired where she seemed to be floating on a cloud of exhaustion. Careless, effortless, tripping above it all. Of course, that assumed she'd be able to make it back to Praeger House without collapsing. But then if she did collapse, she was pretty sure Clark would carry her home.

Wherever
home
was.

She shivered again. That was one aspect of this entire experience she'd never stopped to consider—what happened when it was all over? Maybe because she'd never really believed it would be over.

And she wasn't going to think about it now. Not when she was so tired the street lights seemed to be dancing in front of them. She paused, trying to blink them back into place.
What the hell?

“It's snowing,” Clark said softly.

Lizzy paused for a moment, feeling tiny flakes land on her cheeks like cold kisses. “In October?”

“Sure.” He grinned down at her. “You're in the mountains, Lizzy. It snows early at seven thousand feet.”

“Cool.” She extended her tongue to catch a few flakes.

Clark turned back toward Praeger House, his arm around her shoulders. “Enjoy it now. By spring you'll be sick of it.”

His expression changed suddenly, his smile fading as he looked back toward the hotel.

She frowned. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing. Come on, let's get out of the cold. That chef's jacket isn't nearly enough for a snowstorm.” He pulled the front door of the hotel open, ushering her into the warmth of the lobby.

Toby, the night clerk, glanced up at them. “Snowing?”

Clark nodded. “Just a little.”

“The lifts will be open by Thanksgiving—that's my bet.” He went back to whatever he was reading on his iPad.

Clark took her hand in his, pulling her down the hall after him. He still wasn't smiling, or at least not smiling like he had been at the Blarney Stone. Lizzy's shoulders tightened. Was he going to break up with her? Had he been waiting until the end of the contest? Couldn't he wait just a little bit longer until she'd had a chance to rest up?

Nothing like looking on the bright side, eh, Lizzy?
She'd had so much practice being a pessimist it was going to take a while to break the habit.

He unlocked the door to his apartment and held it open as she walked in.

She fought the urge to collapse on the bed without bothering to undress. “Lordy, I'm tired.”

“You've got a right to be.” He stood looking at her for another long moment, and suddenly she wasn't tired any more.

“What is it?” she asked, her heart suddenly fluttering like a drunken butterfly.

He blew out a breath. “I'm just wondering…what happens now?”

Lizzy blinked. It wasn't what she'd expected, but it was a lot better than
It's not you, it's me.
On the other hand, it might be a preliminary question that would work up to that. “You mean with the restaurant?”

“No. Yeah. Maybe.” He ran his hands through his hair leaving it nicely tousled. Her palms itched to do a little tousling of her own.

“That takes care of the possibilities.” She shrugged. “I don't know what I'm doing next. I mean, we can put the tarts on the menu, but I'll have to think about something different for winter.”

He still wasn't smiling, but he seemed less solemn, almost a little confused. “Winter?”

“Right. I figure the skiers and boarders will want something fairly substantial for breakfast before they head up to the slopes.” She frowned. “Or not. I mean maybe some of them want to eat light so they're not weighed down. They'd go for oatmeal maybe, or pastries. You ski. Which is more likely?”

“Winter.” His lips moved into a slow grin.

She narrowed her eyes. “Okay, now you're making me nervous. What's going on?”

“I just wondered…” He shrugged. “I wondered if you'd be heading back to Los Angeles after today.”

Lizzy managed not to let her jaw drop, but it took some effort. “Why would I do that?”

“Because it's where your business was. And you've been cleared, so you could start it up again.” He shrugged. “I thought you might want to.”

She licked her lips. “Do you want me to take off?”

He grimaced. “Christ, no, why the hell would I want that?”

Because you're tired of me? Of us?
“I don't know. Maybe because you just wanted me to, you know, leave.”

He looked like he was gritting his teeth. “No, Annalisa. I do
not
want you to leave. But this isn't about what I want. I'm asking what you want to do.”

She shook her head. “Then no, I do not want to go back to Los Angeles. I did the LA catering thing, and I enjoyed it. Or I did until the
Lovely Ladies of LA
entered my life. But I can't go back to doing that now. It's over.” And there were way too many bitter memories about just how over it was.

“What about your family?” He reached out, running his index finger along her cheekbone. “I mean they've got some apologizing to do, but they're still your family.”

She shook her head again. “I'll go back to see Aunt Josefina sometime, but not right now. The rest of them…” She shrugged. “They've got Teresa.”

His lips edged up again. “Poor them.”

“Got that right.”

“So you're staying.”

She nodded. “So I'm staying.”

He cupped her face in his hands, smiling down at her. “I'm glad you're staying. I mean, really glad.”

The room suddenly felt a lot warmer. Plus she felt slightly short of breath. “Why would I go? I've got a restaurant to run and an apartment to live in. What else do I need?”

His arms moved around her waist, pulling her tighter against him as his lips touched hers. She felt the kiss through every part of her body, awakening all the nerve endings she thought were way too tired to be awake at this time of night. His tongue moved along hers, touching, tasting, exploring, making some of her newly awakened parts tingle with anticipation and need.

Then he raised his head. “Your room isn't exactly an apartment. It's a room.”

She shrugged. “It's okay.”

“My place is better.”

She took a breath, not entirely sure where they were heading but willing to ride along. “It is.”

He reached into his pocket, pulling out a key. “Here's a key. That way you can, you know, come and go when you want.”

She blinked. “You want me to move in?”

“Yeah, well…yeah.” He looked adorably concerned all of a sudden. He probably thought she might say no. Silly man. “If you want to, that is.”

She took the key from his hand, sliding it into her pants pocket. She'd have to remember to put it on her key ring tomorrow. “Okay.”

His concern morphed into confusion. “Okay?”

“Sure.” She might be beyond exhausted, but this was turning out to be sort of fun. “Was there anything else you wanted?”

“Oh.” His forehead furrowed in thought. “No. No, I guess not.”

She leaned forward and kissed him on the tip of his nose. “I love you, Clark.”

His eyes widened as he stared down at her. “I was going to say that next.”

“Then I guess I beat you to it. We should probably get some sleep now.”

He nodded, his lips moving up into another grin. “Probably. Not likely though.”

“No.” She shook her head. “Not likely.”

He draped his arm over her shoulders, moving her toward the bed. “We need more help in the kitchen.”

“We do.” She frowned. “What brought that up?”

“Because eventually I intend to show you that morning sex can be as good as evening sex, and to do that you'll need somebody else to run the kitchen a couple of days a week. Plus I want to be able to take you away someplace where neither one of us has to get out of bed for a week.” He started to unbutton her chef's jacket.