Love in the Morning (9 page)

She nodded. “Hash is easy to fix in advance. And we can use different meats—sausage hash and bacon hash both work. So does chicken.”

He flipped to the last page and broke into a grin. “Pancakes and French toast.”

“Go with the classics.” She let herself smile again, flexing her hands. “I'm trying to come up with several new things, but it should be something we can handle with a small kitchen staff and without radically changing what we've already got. We may just end up with five menus rotating through.”

He put the sheets with the sample menus back on her desk. “That should work.”

“I think so.” She stayed in her seat, looking up at him. The stool raised his head a few inches above hers.

A moment of silence stretched between them, and her throat suddenly felt dry.

He glanced away from her, taking a breath. “Have you had dinner?”

She nodded. “I grabbed a sandwich after I finished with the prep for tomorrow.” She picked up her plate from the desk, suddenly grateful to have something to do. Sitting opposite Clark for much longer was liable to lead to complications.

He put his hand on her arm, then took the plate out of her hands. “Where do you put it?”

Her throat felt dry again. “Over by the sink. I'll wash it. Or Marco can get it when he loads the dishwasher tomorrow.”

He stepped in front of her, placing the plate next to the sink, then straightened again, his face half in shadow in the darkened kitchen. She was almost certain she could feel the warmth of his skin at this distance.

“Marco's been a real fast learner,” she babbled. “I think he appreciates having the job.” She came to a halt, staring up at him again.

You could defuse this situation by moving away.

She stayed where she was.

He raised his hand to her cheek, running his fingertips lightly along the line of her cheekbone, leaving a trail of sparks behind.

Now. You should really move now.
But still she stayed. She took a shuddering breath, staring up into those brown-green eyes, then licked her lips.

She heard his quick inhale, as if the lip licking had been some kind of signal. Maybe it had been.

And then he was leaning forward, stepping off the stool, one arm sliding around her waist, bringing her body up against his. She had time to feel the shape of his arousal against her belly, and then his lips touched hers and she lost track of whatever it was she'd been thinking about.

Heat blossomed inside her, feelings she hadn't had for weeks, months if she was honest. The warmth spread through her body, her mouth opening beneath his, his tongue sliding along hers. Invitation, dangerous invitation. She had to fight the impulse to wrap her leg around his, to rub her calf against him. Instead she looped her arms around his neck, moving closer.

He angled his head again, taking the kiss deeper, his tongue rasping against hers now. She rubbed her hand along the back of his neck into his hair, tangling her fingers in the soft wisps, her fingertips dancing across his scalp, feeling the shape of his head.

He made a sound that was almost a growl, close enough that she suddenly felt nervous. Suppose he wanted more? Suppose she did? Was she really ready for this?
Back off. For God's sake, back off!

After another moment, he raised his head again, then leaned his forehead against hers. The whisper of his breath against her cheek sent another flash of heat rushing to her core.
Powerful stuff, Lizzy. Way too powerful for you.

He leaned back again, looking down at her, his expression cautious. “Should I apologize?”

She shook her head. “It wasn't that bad.”

For a moment he went on staring at her, until his teeth flashed in a grin. And then he was laughing, shaking his head. “Well, all right then. I wouldn't want you to be disappointed.”

“Definitely.” She blew out a quick breath. “Definitely not disappointed.” She kept her gaze on his, waiting.
Your move, boss.

After another moment, he touched his fingers to her cheek. She felt them tremble slightly. His lips moved up in a faint smile. “Good night, Lizzy. I'll see you tomorrow. Sleep well.”

Right. Good move.
“You too,” she said gently, her smile echoing his.

He gave her another grin, then turned and headed back out the door toward his office.

Lizzy stayed where she was, watching the kitchen door swing closed behind him. And trying to convince herself that his leaving was really the best thing for both of them.

Chapter Nine

Clark wasn't entirely surprised when Lauren called him a little after noon the next day. He figured the resort had gone into panic mode after the Merchants Association meeting the day before, and people like Lauren would be trying to smooth all the ruffled feathers around town. Elkhorn Run stood to make a fair amount of money from the
Lovely Ladies of LA
reality show, but things might get dicey if the town of Salt Box wasn't entirely on board.

After all, the ladies in question might like to do a little shopping at Menninger's western store or grab coffee at any of the coffee shops around town. Or view the historic Praeger House. It wouldn't do to have the merchants in question give them the cold shoulder.

Clark himself hadn't been one of the vocal opponents of the show—Praeger House had made money on the last reality show, although they'd also had to deal with some of the fallout. Still, he couldn't call himself much of a supporter. Given what he'd heard about this new show, and the women who were a part of it, he wasn't sure the town would gain much.

“Hey, lover,” Lauren purred when he answered her call. “How about dinner tonight? My treat.”

Normally, he wouldn't have minded spending a little recreational time with Lauren. Now he wasn't so sure. Still, he didn't usually turn down a blatant offer.

“Sure,” he said. “What time?”

“Say around seven? I'll drive this time.”

Clark grimaced. That meant they'd be in the Mini. Why Lauren preferred it over his Lincoln, he'd never know. “Okay,” he said, somewhat reluctantly.

“Don't be so enthusiastic, sweetie. You'll overwhelm me.” She sounded more sarcastic than usual. Already this date was looking like a real winner.

For the rest of the afternoon, he felt grouchy and sour. Which was definitely not the way he normally approached a date with Lauren. She was gorgeous, after all. And not that hard to talk to, although talking wasn't a big part of their evenings. He wasn't sure why he found that fact so depressing all of a sudden. Shouldn't you want to have a conversation before you hit the hay?

Jesus, what are you, twelve?

He rubbed a hand across his face. When push came to shove, he had to admit that outside of bed, he didn't really know Lauren all that well. She wasn't fond of Salt Box. She thought of the town as a temporary stop on her way to bigger and better things. She didn't want to live here permanently.

He did. Of all the places he'd been in his life, Salt Box was where he'd decided to settle down. How he'd ended up dating a woman who could barely conceal her contempt for the place was one of those great mysteries.

No, it actually wasn't. Whenever he thought of Lauren, he inevitably ended up thinking about sex. Surely they had something outside of the bedroom? He tried to consider what that something might be and came up dry. She'd never been all that interested in anything else. Of course, neither had he.

So what are you going to do about it?

He prowled along the halls of Praeger House, having helped settle a financial planning seminar into one of the smaller meeting rooms after they'd complained that the one they'd reserved was too drafty.

Normally, a small bump in the road like that wouldn't have intruded much on his disposition. Today, it annoyed him. Everything annoyed him.
Drafty. Who the hell says
drafty
anymore?

He turned a corner and almost collided with Lizzy, who was loading a tray full of sandwiches into the cooler. She backed up quickly, bracing her tray against her hip as she tried to catch the sandwiches that were sliding toward the edge.

Clark leaned forward, grabbing three or four sandwiches in their cardboard sleeves before they dropped. “Sorry, sorry, didn't mean to mow you down.”

He'd actually been avoiding the kitchen end of the hotel today, just like he was trying to avoid thinking about that kiss he'd shared with her in the kitchen last night. He'd almost managed to talk himself into believing the kiss wasn't that big a deal. Just one of those things, a momentary distraction.

Which worked just fine until he saw her standing in the hall with her sandwiches. Lizzy in the flesh was a lot harder to dismiss than the hypothetical Lizzy he'd been trying to ignore. She might have been a distraction, but she sure as hell wasn't momentary.

Unlike Lauren.
He promptly shoved that thought to the very back of his mind where it belonged. Comparing Lauren and Lizzy was not a good idea for a whole lot of reasons.

“It's okay.” Lizzy quickly redistributed the sandwiches on the tray and then turned back to the case so that she could put them in place.

“Let me help.” He picked up several and shoved them onto a shelf, spreading them across the front. “Is that the way you do it?”

She looked like she was gritting her teeth. “Usually I try to make sure they're sorted by kind, you know turkey with turkey and egg salad with egg salad.” She leaned forward, deftly rearranging the sandwiches.

He frowned. “We sell egg salad?”

She nodded. “I added it a few days ago. Good way to use up any leftover eggs from breakfast. And it seems to sell really well.”

He took a moment to survey the case—he couldn't really remember the last time he'd looked at it closely. “Where's the mayonnaise and mustard?”

Her face looked slightly flushed all of a sudden. “I'm doing that in-house now. Well, not the mustard, but the mayonnaise.” She pointed to a basket of small paper cups. “Aioli. We use commercial mayonnaise for the base, but then we add some herbs and flavorings.”

He frowned. “How much is that costing us?”

She shrugged. “We're selling it for a quarter a cup, which is more than it costs to make. Or they can take the mayonnaise packets for free since we've still got a lot of that to move. But we sell out of the aioli every day. And I'm doing the dressings for the salads too. We raised the salad price by a quarter to account for it.”

“We did?” He raised his eyebrows. “I don't remember doing that.”

“Betsy and I did it. She figured out what would work, based on what we were charging. She really knows her stuff.” Lizzy raised her chin, ready to take him on.

He held up his hands, placating. “That's good. I'm glad you two worked it out between you. I wouldn't have had a clue.”

She frowned slightly. “Who did the pricing before?”

“Clarice did most of it, along with the ordering. I kept track of how much we were making on the meals, but that's about the extent of it.” He gave her what he hoped was an encouraging smile. “You can add what you want to the case—Betsy's a good source for pricing. She's been doing this for a while now.”

“Okay, I'll keep it within reason.” Her lips quirked up into a quick smile.

A smile he felt from the soles of his feet to the top of his head. His body was suddenly ready to go.
Well, that's awkward.
“Okay,” he mumbled, “I'll let you get back to your work.”

“Right.” She picked up her tray and headed back through the kitchen door.

Clark blew out a breath. What the hell was going on with him and Lizzy? Whatever it was, he had to stop it right now. The last thing he needed was an affair with an employee. Even if said employee seemed to be able to push all his buttons without half trying.

Affair? Is that what you call this thing?

He shook his head. He didn't know what the hell to call it—he didn't even know what it was. But he knew it was something, and sooner or later he'd have to figure out what. Maybe right after he figured out just what to do about Lauren.

*****

Lizzy had half-expected Clark to follow her into the kitchen when she'd finished with the sandwiches. And she wasn't entirely sure how she felt about that. Last night she'd been scared to death that he'd want to take the kiss further, and then she'd been disappointed when he hadn't. If he came back to the kitchen, they might pick up where they'd left off.

Or not. When he didn't come, she wondered if that was a message in itself. Maybe she was making way too much of this. It was just a kiss, after all. A good kiss. Maybe a great kiss, if she were honest. But, well, a kiss. No big deal.

When she got tired of lying to herself, she pulled off her apron and stuffed it in the laundry bag at the side. One advantage of working in a hotel was regular laundry service. She made a quick stop in the ladies room down the hall, checking herself in the mirror. Her hair was slightly frazzled from a day in the kitchen's high humidity, and she could use a little makeup.

Actually, she could use a lot of things. But right now she was going to ignore all her potential problems. She was going to go have a beer. On her own. Without Clark Denham as an escort. She stopped by her room for a moment, grabbing her jacket and purse, and headed across the street.

Music blared from the Blarney Stone's front door whenever someone went in or out, just as it had when she'd been there before. She stepped inside, trying not to feel shy. Just because she'd never been here by herself didn't mean she wouldn't be welcome.

The bass notes from the jukebox bounced around the room as the couples on the minuscule dance floor did their best not to run into each other. People stood two-deep at the bar, and the tables were jammed with extra chairs. Lizzy hugged herself, chewing on her lower lip. Maybe this hadn't been such a great idea after all. She doubted she'd be able to make it to the bar in less than twenty minutes.

“Lizzy,” someone called. “Lizzy! Over here.”

She turned to see Nona waving energetically in her direction from a table jammed at the side. Lizzy began working her way across the room, shoving politely and then not so politely between the bodies stacked in front of the bar.

“Here you go,” Nona called as she stepped up to the table. “Pull that chair over here. Al, make yourself useful.”

The man sitting next to Nona gave her a long-suffering look, then pulled up an empty chair. Lizzy dropped into the seat, doing a quick check of the others at the table. No Clark, but Dick Sonnenfeld was sitting at Nona's side, as usual. He gave her a smile that was closer to a smirk.

Did Nona tell him who I am? Has she told anybody else?
Lizzy's shoulders tightened.

Nona punched him in the arm. “Stop leering at the girl, Dick. She won't want to sit here if you act like an asshole.”

For a moment, Lizzy thought he might reply, but he rubbed his arm instead. “You need to learn to pull your punches, Nona.”

Nona gave him a flat smile. “I can pull a punch when I want to, Mr. Sonnenfeld.” She turned back to Lizzy. “This is my son, Al. He owns the best garage in town.”

The man next to Nona nodded in Lizzy's direction. He looked like he was trying not to grimace. “Nice to meet you,” he called over the noise. “You're the cook at Denham's place, right?”

Lizzy nodded. “Right.”

“Bring your car around sometime. Clark said you had some problems with it.”

Like not having enough money for gas.
But that wasn't something Al could fix. “Thanks. I'll do that.”

“We need to get you something to drink.” Nona waved toward the bar. “Ronnie,” she called. “Over here.”

The gorgeous blonde from last time sashayed across the room, parting the crowd like Moses in the Red Sea. Lizzy was aware of heads turning all around the bar. Apparently, when Ronnie walked by, everything else stopped for the duration.

She gave Lizzy a dazzling smile. “Hi, there. I remember you. Good to see you again. You want a beer?”

Lizzy took a quick breath. Ronnie's dazzle beat everybody else's by a mile. “Sure.”

“Anybody else?” Ronnie turned her smile on the rest of the table.

Dick grimaced. “Careful where you point that thing. At this distance it could be lethal.”

Ronnie giggled. “Oh, you kidder. What do you want to drink?”

Dick narrowed his eyes. “Would a whiskey sour be too much for you to manage?”

“Of course not.” Ronnie turned to Nona and Al. “How about you two?”

Al sighed. “Just bring a pitcher, Ronnie. We'll probably have other people coming by.”

“Okay.” She turned back to Dick again. “If they get a pitcher, do you still want your whiskey sour?”

Dick's eyes stayed narrow. “Yes, I still want my whiskey sour. And a beer mug.”

“Suit yourself. I'll be back in a few.” Ronnie gave them another glistening smile, then walked through the awestruck crowd.

Dick shook his head. “How the hell does she do that?”

Nona shrugged. “Natural talent. Saltzman's making a mint off of her. Half of these guys are just in here to watch her walk by.”

Al gave her a dry smile. “There's a lot to see, Ma.”

Nona swatted him. “Don't you go bad-mouthing Ronnie. She came back from a disaster. She's a walking advertisement for reinventing yourself.”

She glanced at Lizzy a little guiltily. Lizzy wasn't sure, but she thought Nona might actually be blushing. “What disaster?” she asked quickly.

Al turned toward her again. “Ronnie was on a reality show here last year. One of those
choose your bachelor
things. The whole show sort of blew up when one of her bachelors started dating one of the producers behind her back.”

“Ha,” Nona said darkly. “Paul wasn't ever one of Ronnie's bachelors. Not really. He got dragged into that thing against his will. And Ronnie always knew he wasn't really in the game.”

Al shook his head. “Well, anyway, the show kind of fell apart. So on the night Ronnie was supposed to choose the guy she wanted to stay with, she said the hell with it and told them she didn't want any of them.”

“Great television,” Dick muttered. “Best show of the season.”

Al raised his voice slightly to talk over him. “Then she decided to stick around Salt Box instead of going back home to wherever it is she comes from.”