The Baby Truce (15 page)

Now that Tremont
was
in, she wanted to make
a damned fine showing. Who was she kidding? She wanted to win. And she wouldn't mind seeing Candy Catering Classique go down in flames.

Ah, fantasy.

When Reggie finally emerged from the office, it was to see Tom at his locker, changing out of his coat.

“Pasta mishap.” He spread his arms wide to show her the red-splattered front.

“You look like you've been shot.”

“Just winged.” He shrugged out of the coat and rolled it into a ball.

“We can wash that here if you don't have a washing machine.”

“Actually, I do. Came with the place.”

“Like the dog.”

“It's a very well equipped house.” He stuffed the coat into his gym bag.

“You want to borrow an apron?”

“Eden already gave me one.” He closed the locker and took a couple steps closer. “Why are you avoiding me?”

Reggie reached up to rub her earlobe, fiddling with the gold stud she wore. “Honestly? Because I'm tempted not to ignore you.”

That got his attention. “Not ignore me how?”

“Not ignore you in the way that got me into trouble.” There. It was out. Now she could deal with it. It was no secret there was chemistry between them. Now she'd made an open commitment to not acting on that chemistry.

“
Us
into trouble.”

“Exactly.”

“Well,” he said in that low voice that made her nerves tingle, “it isn't like we can get into more trouble.”

“Speak for yourself, Tom.”

Reggie started for the kitchen. She needed to put a little distance between them, she was banking on him not wanting to continue the conversation in front of Eden. Justin was, of course, locked in the pastry room, music blaring through the door.

Tom caught up with her. “We had a great time on Saturday.”

“And that's the problem, Tom.” Why couldn't he see that?

Because he was a man and didn't think logically.

She stopped and turned toward him. “We had too great of a time. It was like a date.”

Eden was trying not to look at them as she stood at the stove stirring a pot, but she was listening for all she was worth. Patty, thank goodness, was nowhere in sight. Maybe she'd taken out the trash.

“I'm not date worthy?” Tom demanded, making no effort to keep his voice down.

Reggie did an abrupt about-face and went into the office, pushing the door shut. It opened again immediately.

She turned and attempted her professional voice. “Could we please discuss this later?”

He came to stand within inches of her, staring down at her, daring her to stay put. Reggie, heaven help her, met his dare and didn't step back.

“I don't get what's happening,” he said fiercely. “I'm trying to make a workable relationship with you.”

“I know.”

“This is my kid, too, but I feel like a freaking sperm donor.”

Reggie's lips parted as she stared up at him. “You're not a sperm donor,” she said softly.

“I feel like one.”

“You're not,” she repeated, so low she doubted he heard her.

Reggie slowly let her head fall forward until it rested on his chest. She felt the tension in his body as his hands settled on her hips.

“I'm not getting involved with you,” she said without raising her head. She could feel his heart beating. Feel the solid warmth radiating from him. He used to make her feel safe.

Not anymore.

“I know.” He spoke with utter sincerity. Break-your-heart sincerity.

She slowly raised her head.

“I won't,” she repeated, looking into his dark eyes.

He would destroy her again. He wasn't part of her kitchen. He was here, but he didn't fit. And though it killed her to admit it, he'd been correct in not staying with the catering company they'd planned to start. They hadn't had a hope back then.

“I believe you,” he said softly, bringing his hand up to rub the back of his fingers over her cheek before cupping her neck and lowering his mouth to hers.

Reggie didn't back away from the kiss. A person had instincts for a reason, and she was following hers.

Tom kissed her as he used to before a long trip…and after he came back. A deep, deep, soul-melding kiss. Her arms ended up around his neck, as they always had, her body firmly against his. His hand was on her ass, pressing her into him.

And then, when the kiss ended, and he slowly lifted his head, meeting her eyes with that electric gaze, she knew why she hadn't backed away. Because if she put up barriers, he would try to scale them. But this way they met on even ground. No chase, no pursuit. Just a whole lot of conflicting signals shooting in all directions through her mind and body.

The door creaked behind them.

“Oh, sorry,” Patty said. “I didn't realize—”

“Have you heard of knocking?” Tom growled.

“Tom…” Reggie stepped away from him, smoothing the front of her blouse.

“I didn't know anyone was in here,” Patty said stiffly, her cheeks bright red. “I'll just leave you two.”

“Is something wrong?” Reggie asked.

“I wanted to discuss what hours you needed me next Saturday. For the wedding.”

“I thought you didn't think there was anyone in here,” Tom muttered.

Reggie delivered a subtle warning nudge. “Just give us another minute and I'll be right with you.”

A red-faced Patty turned and marched out, closing the door behind her with a brisk click.

“I meant what I said, Tom.”

He stared down at the floor. Then he nodded without looking at her. “Yeah. I don't want you sleeping with me to prove something.”

“I wish I'd never said that.”

He looked at her. “But that's why you did it.” They stared at each other for a moment, then he deftly buttoned the top button of her blouse with one hand. “Now you're Patty worthy.”

“Thank you.”

He forced a smile that didn't reach his eyes. “I bet if I open the door fast, she'd tumble into the room.”

“Then make a lot of noise,” Reggie said, taking the out Tom was offering her. “Because I don't want a workman's comp claim.”

F
RANK AND
B
ERNIE WERE SO
enthusiastic about being part of the Reno Cuisine set building crew that Tom was a little afraid. It was difficult to believe a man who accidentally set a fence on fire could be a master carpenter competent with power tools. But Tom counted and Bernie had all his fingers. So did Frank.

The guys had only two questions. When would the lumber be delivered to their shop and when could they begin?

“How difficult will this be?” Tom asked, gesturing at the plans he'd brought.

Bernie gave a dismissive snort. “Piece of cake.”

“It's a lot like the theater-in-the-park sets we built back in the eighties,” Frank said, as if Tom would remember theater in the park. But that was way before his time. He'd landed in Reno a decade ago, following Reggie here from California after she'd graduated from culinary school. During his stint in a Reno hotel kitchen, they'd made preliminary plans for their catering business, and then Lowell had called and Tom had gone to Spain.

And now Tom was once again waiting for word from
Lowell. Something was brewing, but since his old friend hadn't answered Tom's terse email, Tom had no idea what it was.

 

“T
HEY'LL BUILD THE SET FOR
the cost of the lumber,” Tom said, crossing the kitchen to where Reggie was standing at the stove, making adjustments to a filling.

“We can't let them do that. We need to pay them.” She dropped in the slightest pinch of salt, then added a healthy grinding of black pepper.

“I'll let you negotiate with them,” he said. “They were pretty adamant.”

“I can be adamant, too.” She frowned as she considered the flavors she'd just sampled. Then she held out the spoon. “Taste.”

He opened his mouth and tasted. “Not bad.”

“Suggestions?” she asked.

“Go with that.”

She seemed surprised. “All right. I will.”

He settled his hand lightly on the upper curve of her hip, bringing her attention back to him. She didn't try to escape, but was miles away from relaxed.

“You're a hell of a cook, Reggie.”

“I know,” she said simply, “but you're better.” And she seemed fine with that. She'd always held her own with him. In the kitchen, in the bedroom. Nothing intimidated her…except the thought of trusting him. He'd screwed the pooch there, but he'd never been anything but honest with her. It wasn't as if he'd crept away in the night.

And she was so damned tense, despite an obvious
effort on her part to appear nonchalant. Her entire body was like the proverbial coiled spring.

Which, in his opinion, needed to be sprung.

The kitchen was empty. Patty was undoubtedly lurking somewhere, ready to jump out and surprise them, but Tom took a chance and settled both hands on her shoulders from behind. He started a slow massage with his thumbs, feeling the tension flow from her body into his hands. He decided Patty must not be anywhere near the kitchen or Reggie wouldn't allow herself to relax like this.

He caressed the delicate skin over her collarbones and her shoulders dropped. He massaged the tight muscles at the back of her neck with his thumbs. She let out a soft sigh.

And she didn't move away.

 

T
HOSE MAGICAL FINGERS WORKED
their way up from her shoulders to her temples, gently stroking. She lifted her chin. The fingers of his one hand brushed over her lips, over her chin, trailed down her throat between her breasts to her stomach, where his large, warm hand curved around to settle on her negligible baby bump.

Reggie's lips parted. His holding her stomach shouldn't feel this erotic, but it did.

She could feel his breath on her temple, wanted in the worst way to turn her head and kiss him. His lips pressed against the side of her head and lust shot through her as she let herself lean back against his hard body.

“You were right about the green for the baby's room,”
he whispered against her hair. “It looked awful in natural light.” The tension she'd felt coiled so tightly within her dissipated.

“Chef Gerard is conceding a point? Alert the media.”

He touched her chin and she turned her head to look over her shoulder at him. He kissed her very lightly on her lips. She wanted more.

More was a bad idea.

She stepped away.

“I need to get back to work.”

He smiled crookedly at her, but it wasn't the who-gives-a-damn smile he was so famous for. His eyes weren't involved. He was as cautious as she right now.

“I have a list for you, if you're here to work.”

“Hand it over,” he said.

She reached into her pocket, pulled out a card and handed it to him.

“Some fancy food here,” he said.

“Small expensive dinner party,” Reggie replied. “I figured I may as well take advantage of your talents while you're here.”

“I have lots of talents, Reggie.”

“Go to work, Tom.”

Heaven help her.

 

T
OM DIDN'T SEE A LOT OF
R
EGGIE
that day, but he had one of his best days ever in the kitchen. No Patty and no insistence that he stick to Tremont recipes.

Traffic was light after he left the kitchen, and it continued to be a good day right up until he got home.

Brioche was not at the back door, scratching madly as
usual. Strange. Maybe Bernie had broken the rule and tossed her a really big bone. Tom walked out into the backyard and his heart stopped. The yard was empty. No rat dog.

“Bree!” The name ripped out of his throat and a split second later her small head appeared from under the fence.

Brioche wiggled through the hole that led to Frank and Bernie's yard, and raced over to him, turning a circle when she got there. He scooped her up with one hand and held her against his chest, brushing dirt off her head with his other hand as he walked back to the house.

“You scared the piss out of me,” he told the dog, who snuggled up against him. He fed her, then went back to the yard and filled the hole, stomping the dirt to pack it down. He didn't want to leave her in the house while he was gone, but he would if he had to. It was good that the fence on the street side had a thick cement base. The cedar plank fence she'd burrowed under led into Frank and Bernie's yard, so even if she dug under again, she'd be in their yard—where she'd undoubtedly be distracted by bones and forbidden food, probably hand-fed to her by Bernie.

Tom would have to tell the guys to keep an eye out for her.

Losing his dog, even for a few seconds, had not been a pleasant experience.

Tom poured a glass of wine and went to sit on the futon. It wasn't so much that he was attached to Brioche as that he was worried about her safety. He'd learned
his lesson about becoming attached to animals as a kid. He'd had two dogs, both excellent, loyal animals. One had gone to his grandparents when he'd started boarding school the first time, and the other he'd had to give away when he and his father moved from the United States to Great Britain.

Both times he'd felt as if his heart had been ripped out. And even though decades had passed, he wasn't going through that again. No way.

And in that regard he was very much like Reggie. He let his head fall back against the cushions and stared up at the ceiling. She would kiss him, consider sleeping with him, but wasn't going to let herself fall for him again.

Probably a wise move on her part.

But what about the baby? That was attachment incarnate.

He closed his eyes. He was scared. Scared spitless.

What was the right thing to do here? Disappear? Or try to be part of the kid's life and fail, as Reggie thought he'd failed her? Would fail her again.

Tons of other guys went through this. But Tom had a feeling that a lot of them were better prepared, not having been raised a vagabond by a sometimes single parent. Although…thinking back on that, too, Tom realized his father may have married, but his mind-set had always been single. Solitary.

Was he the same?

Brioche jumped up on his lap, nearly knocking his wine out of his hand. She settled and he stroked her ears as she laid her chin on his thigh. He couldn't remember
another time in his life when he'd felt less sure of himself, or of his abilities.

Reggie didn't trust him.

He didn't trust himself.

 

“I
LIKE THE GREEN
,” E
DEN SAID
, picking the paint sample out of the dozen scattered across Reggie's kitchen table.

“Tom and I decided against the green.”

“Then why did you show it to me?” she asked, shuffling through the chips. Then she gave Reggie a sideways glance. “The
two
of you decided against green?”

“We went paint shopping. The green was Tom's favorite until he saw it in natural light.”

“Get out.”

“It was a nice day. We can have fun doing superficial stuff. Enjoy each other's company.”

“I think you did okay in the serious stuff, too.”

Reggie shrugged. “We did.”

“Any chance Tom could stay here?”

“And do what?” Reggie held up the blue chip, her favorite.

“Work at a hotel restaurant and not get fired?” Eden suggested.

“He could try,” Reggie conceded. “He could possibly work his way through several hotels here.” She dropped the card on the table. “He's not a corporate guy, Eden. A hotel kitchen would be rough on him and he'd be rough on it.” Her mouth tightened ruefully. “Want to hazard a guess as to who would be the loser?”

“Maybe he could run his own place?”

Reggie shrugged before settling her elbows on the table. “He's never said one word about doing that.”

“Maybe…” Eden said slowly “…he's afraid of failing?”

“And maybe Tom was never meant to settle.”

“You guys haven't talked custody yet?”

Reggie closed her eyes and shook her head. “I think the kid is just now becoming real to both of us.”

 

R
EGGIE HAD COME TO AN
agreement over the phone with Frank and Bernie, and planned to meet them the next morning before work. The lumber, which the brothers had already ordered, even though Tom told them not to, had been delivered that morning. The truck had frightened Brioche and woke Tom out of a dead, wine-induced sleep.

And now he was yawning as he worked on the appetizers for a luncheon the next day.

“Tom?”

He looked up as Eden came into the kitchen from the reception area.

“There's a large Scottish bear here to see you.”

Tom knew only one man who fit that description. How in the hell had Lowell found him at the Tremont kitchen?

“Tom!” Lowell called from the outer office. “Can I come back?”

“Could I stop you?” he asked.

“Probably not.” Lowell came through the kitchen door, tall and broad with bushy auburn hair, and enveloped Tom in a brief hug. Eden leaned her upper
body out of range when Lowell turned his attention toward her.

“Why are you in Reno?” Tom asked, trying to redirect Lowell's attention.

“Simone and I are getting married again.”

“But…did you ever finish getting divorced?”
And don't you have to be a citizen?

Lowell waved his hands as if Tom was talking about a minor detail. “And I wanted to talk to you.”

“Have you heard of phones?”

“Newfangled tools of the devil.”

Tom jerked his head at his station. “You caught me at a busy time.”

Lowell frowned. “You're a catering cook now?”

“Something wrong with that?” Eden asked.

“Uh, no,” Lowell replied as she gave him the evil eye. “Just…” he leaned closer to say sotto voce “…just not what I thought you'd end up doing. I think it's a good thing I came.” He turned and smiled placidly at Eden. “Where's Simone?”

“At the hotel,” Lowell said, as if surprised by the question. “They have a bang-up spa and she's getting something done. Or a lot of somethings. No matter what, it's going to cost me.”

“I have to finish getting ready for this wedding. Could we get together tonight for a drink or something?” Tom winced as he made the suggestion. He'd yet to be in a situation with Lowell and alcohol that had ended well.

“Give me a call when you're done here.”

“So now you believe in phones?” Eden said.

Lowell shrugged a shoulder.

“It'll be late,” Tom warned. As if that was a deterrent.

“I'll be up,” Lowell said confidently. “I'll see you tonight.” He checked his watch. “Another couple hours and Simone should be done. Maybe I'll just check out the bar at the pool.”

“Good plan.” Tom picked up his spoon again.

“Who's he?” Eden asked as soon as Lowell had lumbered out.

“Lowell Hislop. An old friend.”

“Huh.” Eden balanced on her good foot. “Why's he here? Other than getting married?”

Tom hoped he didn't look guilty as he said, “I guess I'll find out tonight.”

 

“O
RDER
G
UINNESS
,” L
OWELL SAID
many hours later as they sat at a table close to the hotel bar.

“I don't want a…” Tom knew he was going to lose. He looked up at the server. “Like he said.”

“They have the most amazing method of pouring it here.”

“There's more ways than good and bad?” Tom asked.

“Yes. Watch.”

The kid, who was barely old enough to pour beer legally, and knew nothing about Guinness, shoved the glass under the tap and pulled the handle. He didn't pause halfway through the pour to let the beer rest, but instead filled the entire glass, then slammed it down onto the bar with a loud thunk. Tom watched in amaze
ment as millions of tiny bubbles developed throughout the brew and rose to the top to form a creamy froth.