Just Desserts (16 page)

She looked like she wanted to fling herself out the window. “So were you,” she said. “I'll see you downstairs.”

 

Of all the stupid, reckless, idiotic things to do, sleeping with an almost stranger in the middle of the day with her daughter just six blocks away had to be at the top of the list.

Hayley sagged onto the bottom step and buried her face in her hands.

What were you thinking, Goldstein? Were you thinking at all?

The thought of just how close she had come to total disaster had her struggling to take a deep breath. Finn was wonderful. Everything about him was wonderful. If she didn't have Lizzie to consider, she would run back upstairs and fling herself at him another ten or twenty times and even that wouldn't be enough.

All these years of being careful, of worrying about how her actions would affect her daughter, and she almost threw it all away with one thoughtless, crazy act.

Lizzie could have popped through the door any second. She could have forgotten a book, a CD, anything. If Lizzie had found her in bed with Finn—

She couldn't finish the thought. How did you explain the importance of choosing a partner carefully, getting to know someone before you decide to have sex, when you leaped into the sack with a guy five days after you met him?

Clearly somebody had been watching out for her this afternoon, some benevolent goddess of stupid, stupid women who let themselves be knocked off track by a man.

It's more than that, Goldstein. At least have the guts to admit it.

The sex had been the best of her life. There wasn't a woman alive who wouldn't sacrifice an IQ point or two for the kind of pleasure she had found with Finn. But the scary truth of it all was the fact that it wasn't just great sex that had her feeling like somebody had turned her world inside out while she wasn't looking.

It was Finn himself. The man who drove four hours to deliver Chinese food. The lawyer who had treated her daughter with respect. The guy who gave Lou an egg roll and a fistful of cash and did it with a friendly shrug of the shoulders.

Finn.

The man she absolutely, positively had no intention of falling for.

 

“I heated up the soup,” Hayley greeted him when he entered the kitchen fifteen minutes later. “Do you want me to slice some extra scallions?”

He shook his head. “Don't go to any extra trouble.” Basically he wanted to eat and get the hell out of Dodge.

“Sesame oil?”

“No, thanks.”

“I have the hot oil if you—”

“It's fine,” he said. “Really. I like it straight out of the container.”

“I put the egg rolls in the oven. The microwave turns them all soggy.”

“I'm going to skip the egg rolls.”

“The shrimp in garlic sauce is ready to pop in the mike. Just say when.”

He met her eyes. “The soup's good enough. I think I probably should hit the road before it gets too much later.”

“But you brought all this stuff.”

“Never order Chinese when you're hungry,” he said with a small laugh. “I always forget.”

“I'm sorry,” she blurted out.

“For what? I'm the one who ordered too much food.”

“I hurt your feelings. I can see it in your eyes.”

He looked down at his soup. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“I shouldn't have run out like that. I guess I panicked.”

He put down his spoon. “I'm not following.”

“Upstairs. After we made love. Don't tell me you didn't notice that I ran out like I was escaping a bank robbery.”

“Was that you?” He tried to make a joke but he was still feeling a little raw after her escape. “You moved so fast I wasn't sure.”

“It's Lizzie,” she said. “I wasn't thinking clearly.” She met his eyes. “I couldn't think once we started kissing.”

He didn't say anything.

“She's fourteen. It's a difficult, dangerous world. That's not the message I want to give her. Lizzie could have walked through that door anytime. How would I explain the fact that you were in my bed?”

There was nothing like reality to bring a man's libido into check.

“I didn't think of that at all.”

“Why should you? She's my daughter. This is my house. I should have been the one doing the thinking but I wasn't and I'm sorry.”

“You don't have anything to apologize for.”

“I should have told you this upstairs. I would have but—” She shook her head. “Like I said, I'm out of practice.”

“So am I.”

The corners of her mouth began to curve in a smile. “I beg to differ, Mr. Rafferty.”

“Muscle memory,” he said with his own answering smile. “It comes in handy.”

“Stay,” she said, brushing a soft kiss against his mouth. “I'm not ready to say good-bye.”

He pulled her down onto his lap and nuzzled the side of her neck. “Neither am I.”

“We can't—”

“We won't.”

“But you're—”

“Yeah,” he confirmed. “How do you like that?”

“Very much,” she murmured. “Very, very much.”

“We could—”

“We shouldn't.”

“You could lock the doors.”

“Lizzie has a key.”

“Call her. Make sure she's still at her friend's house.”

“She'd think I was checking up on her.”

“Isn't that what parents do?”

“You have a point.” She flipped open her cell and pressed 1 and waited. “Hi, Lizzie…No, nothing's wrong…I can't find Aunt Fee's extra set of keys…Oh, we did…I forgot…Are you having fun…Great…No, that's it…Enjoy the movie.” She flipped her cell closed. “They're watching
Grease
. It just started.”

He slipped his hand under the hem of her shirt and cupped her breast. “So have we.”

“What time is it?” Hayley murmured into the side of Finn's neck after they both drifted back down to earth.

“Around seven thirty.”

“We're safe,” she said. “Danny and Cha Cha DiGregorio just won the dance contest at Rydell High. There won't be any surprise visits.”

“You wore me out.” His laugh was a low rumble. “There won't be any more surprise visits from me either.”

They hadn't made it out of the kitchen this time. Their coupling had been fierce, sensual, and inventive. An erotic play of hands and mouths that sprang from the powerful, amazing chemistry between them.

Their return to reality should have been difficult but it wasn't. They settled back down at the table like they had been sharing meals forever. The cats watched from the top of the fridge. Rhoda patrolled the perimeter in search of discards. The parrot observed everything from his perch on the curtain rod.

Except for the phones it was perfect.

“I'm sorry,” Hayley said as her cell rang for what seemed like the tenth time in an hour. “This is crazy even for me.”

This time it was Michie pretending she wanted to discuss possible hairstyles for the after-party.

“Michie, I can't talk right now…The Chinese food is getting cold…Delicious, thanks…” She turned slightly away from Finn. “Yes, he is…Yes, he is…Yes, I will…Absolutely not…Good-bye, Michie.”

“That Mary Jane Esposito really gets the word out,” Finn said after she hung up. “I think half the town has called you.”

“Seems like it, doesn't it? We take our gossip where we can find it.” She gestured toward his cell phone on the table. “You're no slouch in the phone call department either, mister.”

“You'd think I was waiting for a transplant.”

“Did you ever think of turning it off?”

“I will if you will.”

“Can't do it. I'm a mother. It's in the contract they give you right after you deliver.”

Right on cue, his phone rang. He picked up his chopsticks and attacked his plate of shrimp with garlic sauce.

“You're not going to answer that?” she asked.

“Nope.”

It rang again.

“Don't you want to see who it is?”

“Everyone I know has already checked in today. I'm not expecting an emergency.”

“Nobody expects an emergency, Rafferty. They just happen.”

“Eat your chicken,” he suggested. “It's getting cold.”

“You really should answer that phone,” she urged. “It could be something important.”

“You're a worrier,” he responded. “I forgot that.”

“A worrier and a mother. I can't sit here and let a ringing phone go unanswered. At least see who it is.”

He turned his phone over and looked at the display. “Damn,” he muttered, then looked over at Hayley. He flipped it open. “What's up, Tom?”

She tried to appear nonchalant but she was listening every bit as hard as Mary Jane Esposito listened to gossip at Jeannie's Hair Emporium.

“…I can't do that, Tom…She's your fiancée…so tell Willow that…Another few days…Tom, you'd better—Hey, Willow…It's Finn…We're working things out…Not much longer…Sloan and I have been playing phone tag…Tom's right…Absolutely…I'll see you tomorrow.”

He powered down and picked up his fork. “That was Tommy.”

“I figured that out.”

“And his fiancée.”

“I read about her in
People
last week.”

He looked like he wanted to say something.

“I'm a good listener,” she said. “Nosy but discreet.”

“Sorry.”

“You do realize it's killing me not to ask for details, don't you? The only thing keeping me from bombarding you with questions is the fact that between now and the after-party he's a customer.”

“The Code of the Baker?”

“Don't mock what you don't understand, counselor. It's a time-honored tradition. We don't gossip about our customers until the last bite of cake has been eaten.”

“And then?”

“Let's just say Mary Jane Esposito and our friend Lou have nothing on me.”

He told her a few stories about lawyers and their love of gossip. She told him a few about bakers.

“But when it comes to gossip, nobody beats academics. My mother may live the life of the higher mind, but it's dish that recharges her batteries.”

“She's an oceanographer, right? A pretty major one.”

“Probably one of the most major,” Hayley said and not without a note of pride. “The thing about Jane is that she never went commercial. She's all about the work, which means she pretty much lives on a shoestring.”

“You never thought about following in her footsteps?”

“I'm afraid of the water.”

“You're afraid of the water?”

“Why are you looking at me that way? Lots of people are afraid of the water.”

“Tommy's kids hate the water.”

“See? I told you I have plenty of company.” She pointed toward his food with her chopsticks. “Want me to nuke it again for you?”

“Who am I kidding?” He tossed his chopsticks down and reached for a fork. “Am I less of a man because I use a fork?”

“You survived the hot-pink towel,” she said with a grin. “I think you can probably survive just about anything.”

They fell into an easy banter. She ate some of his shrimp. He sampled her kung pao. They made inroads on the veggie lo mein and shared the egg rolls with the menagerie.

“Should we save some for Lizzie?” Finn asked.

“Just a little. I can't believe I'm saying this, but my daughter doesn't fully appreciate the wonders of Chinese cuisine.” She polished off the last of the shrimp in garlic sauce. “You were right. This really is the best take-out food on the planet.” She looked across the table at Finn. “Why are you sniffing your sleeve?” Please, God, don't let him start flying the freak flag now…

“It smells like flowers.”

“That's your imagination.”

“No, I smell roses and something else sweet and girly.”

“I don't perfume my laundry, if that's what you're worried about.”

“Soap should smell like soap,” he said, “not a bottle of Chanel Number Five.”

“You're smelling plain-old garden-variety Tide.”

“This isn't Tide.”

“Yes, it is.” She pushed back from the table.

“Where are you going?”

“I'm going to prove it to you.”

One of the few good things about living in a place with limited square footage was convenience. Her stackable washer-dryer combination was hidden away in her hall closet off the kitchen.

“Bad news,” she said as she sat back down at the table. “Spring Meadow.”

He actually blanched. “Tell me you're kidding.”

“Am I under oath?” A grin twitched at the corners of her mouth. “I meant to use Tide.”

“Like walking around in a hot-pink bath towel wasn't bad enough.”

“You looked very masculine in that hot-pink towel. Not many men could pull it off.” Perfect. For once in her life she didn't say more than she should.

Amused embarrassment suited him. “Hey, what guy doesn't think pink when he's got a date.”

“I thought we agreed this isn't a date. We're having too much fun. I don't know about you, but I never have fun on dates.”

“Maybe you haven't been dating the right men.”

“Actually I haven't been dating much at all.” She sighed and leaned back in her chair. “I'm sorry but life's too short to spend it wearing heels and makeup for some guy who can't even make you laugh.”

“So you like to laugh.”

“Laughing is high up on the list. How about you?”

“Laughing is good.” He put down his fork. “You're not looking to get married again?”

“Lizzie and I have been on our own a long time now. I don't know how adaptable I am. Besides, I'm not sure marriage is good enough compensation for giving up my independence.”

“There must be something to marriage or it wouldn't be so popular.”

“You told me you were married once,” she said. “What do you think?”

“I think I did it wrong.”

“Wrong partner? Wrong time?”

“A little of everything.” He told her about his early marriage, the months spent out on the road, the baby they had lost.

“I'm sorry,” she said, reaching for his hand. “I miscarried a baby boy before I got pregnant with Lizzie. I know how much it hurts.”

“We didn't handle it well,” he admitted. “Once we lost the baby, we drifted so far apart there was no putting the marriage back together.”

“Did you love her?”

“As much as I was capable of loving someone then.” He met her eyes. “Did you love your ex?”

“I loved his family,” she replied. “Sometimes I think that was why I married him in the first place.”

“Any close calls since?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I have Lizzie, the bakery, and the cake business to keep me busy. My ex was—” She stopped and shook her head again. “My ex isn't a model citizen, Finn. It wasn't a happy marriage. I wish I could say he's managed to be a good father to Lizzie despite his other shortcomings but he hasn't. A man would have to be very special for me to let him into our family circle.”

“I've met Lizzie,” he reminded her. “A man would be lucky to be allowed in.”

“Do you ever think about marrying again?”

“Believe it or not, I'd like to try again with the right person.”

“You should ask your boss for advice,” she joked. “He's done it often enough.”

“Three times and a fourth in the works.”

“What's up with that anyway? Doesn't he learn from experience?”

“No,” he said. “That's why Tommy needs live-in counsel.”

“No, seriously. How many times can you say ‘I do' before you realize maybe you don't?”

“The thing about Tommy is that each time he believes it's going to last forever.”

“That's not possible.”

“Yeah, it is,” Rafferty said. “I've known the guy my whole life and I can tell you that when he falls in love, he falls all the way. Nobody's more surprised than he is when it doesn't work out.”

“So the fact that he walks out on these women hasn't registered with him yet.”

“He doesn't walk, Hayley. They do.”

“You're kidding.”

“Every time,” Rafferty stated. “The thing is, once you're in the fishbowl, you start trying to find a way back out. The spotlight gets old after a while and they end up walking.”

“I saw an item about Tommy in Page Six yesterday. He was buying some big diamond for his latest fiancée.”

“Willow.”

“Willow.” She shook her head. “When did girls start being named after trees anyway?”

“He's a romantic,” Rafferty said with a shrug. “Actually he's a romantic optimist.”

“Does he have reason to be this time around?”

“Probably not.”

“So you're saying Willow will probably walk out on him one day too.”

“Odds are she'll be gone before the kid's second birthday.”

“So I take it you're not a romantic optimist.”

“I'm his lawyer.”

“You're a cynic.”

“A realist. I believe marriage is possible. I believe it can last a lifetime. I just don't believe it's going to happen for Tommy and Willow.”

“I can't believe I'm saying this about a multimillionaire rock star, but I almost feel sorry for him.”

“Don't,” Finn said. “He's pretty much bulletproof when it comes to romance. He'll fall in love again, marry again, and the crowd at Christmas will get bigger because somehow they all stay friends.”

She tried to imagine a convivial gathering of the extended Maitland-Goldstein family, but every time she inserted Michael into the picture, the fantasy came crashing down.

“It's terrific that all of the exes think he hung the moon, but the only thing worse than my marriage was my divorce. It really took a toll on Lizzie. How in the world do Tommy Stiles's kids handle it over and over again?”

“They handle it very well,” he said after a moment. “He's a good father.”

“Probably as good as mine and I never knew the man.”