One Hit Wonderful (14 page)

“Why not? I doubt she’d want to wear it again.”

“Because it’s Vera Wang,” she told him, “and I don’t care that it’s tainted, you don’t throw away Vera Wang.”

“So what are you going to do with it?” he asked, and she shrugged.

“There has to be a way to get the blood out,” she said. “I’ve tried everything I can think of, but there has to be a way. It’s become a personal challenge now. Once I get it clean, I’ll probably give it to a consignment shop, or maybe the university drama department.”

“I like the drama department idea,” he told her, and sat back from his empty plate with a satisfied sigh. “That was great.”

Lily smiled at him and rose to clear. “Thanks.”

He handed her his plate. “Of course, now I want dessert and neither one of us knows how to make any.”

She laughed as she slid the plates into the dishwasher. “I have fudge in my purse,” she told him, gesturing to the leather bag that sat on the counter, and laughed again when he leapt up as though he had springs in his shoes.

“May I?” he asked, and she nodded her assent. He dug into her bag while she tidied the kitchen.

“Where did you find fudge?” he asked, pulling out her cell phone and wallet before unearthing the glossy white box.

She handed him a knife. “Charles makes it. Baking is sort of his hobby.”

“Does that mean he’s speaking to you again?” He opened the box and peeled back the wax paper, inhaling appreciatively as the chocolate aroma wafted from the box.

“Barely,” she muttered. “I had to promise to take him to see the American Idol tour when it comes through town next month.” Her mouth twisted in distaste. “He knows I hate that stuff.”

Nate’s lips were twitching as he fed her a piece of fudge. “It’s your fault for laughing at him.”

She rolled her eyes as the rich chocolate melted on her tongue. “Oh come on,” she mumbled. “It was funny. You laughed.”

“Yes, but I had the courtesy to do it internally, and not in his face.”

“Bully for you,” she muttered, and snatched another piece of fudge.

“You’re a sore loser,” he said with the air of someone making a grand discovery.

“Pretty much,” she agreed. She opened her mouth to say something else then noticed her cell phone was blinking on the counter.

“When did I miss a call?” She flipped it open, and saw she had a new voicemail. “Do you mind if I check this?”

“Go ahead.”

She hit the button to ring voicemail and waited for the automated system to do its thing. She looked up when she heard Nate grunt. Beau had apparently decided they weren’t coming back to the table and had come over to ram his head into the back of Nate’s leg in a bid for attention and fudge.

“Don’t give him any of that,” she warned. “Chocolate isn’t good for dogs.”

“I know.” He tore off a piece of the French bread and tossed it to the dog. “Why is that, anyway? It’s just sugar and fat, right?”

“Theobromine,” she replied absently, listening to her voicemail options while she watched the play of muscles on his chest with interest. Now that she had some fuel in her system…

The beep of her phone brought her back to the moment, and she hit the key to listen to new messages.

“What’s theobromine?” he asked.

“It’s a chemical in the cocoa bean, it messes up their nervous systems.”

“Really?” He tossed another hunk of bread to Beau. “How do you know that?”

She didn’t answer, she was too busy listening to the message on her phone with a growing sense of unease.

“Lily?”

She looked up as Nate stepped in front of her, concern stamped on his features.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m not sure.” At a loss, she looked at the phone. “That was Max.”

“Max, your friend’s ex-fiancé?” She nodded. “What did he want?”

“He wants to talk to Bridget,” she said, frowning. “He sounds weird.”

“Weird how?”

“Pissed off,” she realized, looking up from her phone. “Not at me, not really, but ticked that he hasn’t been able to reach her.”

“He’s been trying to call her?”

“Yeah, she said he’s been trying to reach her on her cell. He doesn’t know where she is, or I’m sure he’d be trying her at the hotel in Hawaii.”

“What did the message say?”

“That he wants to talk to Bridget, and it’s urgent, and he’ll call me back later.” She shook her head as though to clear it. “It’s really nothing, but it doesn’t feel right.”

He held out a hand. “Can I listen?”

She handed him the phone. “Sure. Just hit the pound key to replay the message.”

He did so, watching her as he listened. “He’s not threatening you outright, but I don’t really like his tone.”

She shrugged. “Neither do I, but he’s a jerk. He always sounds like that. He knows I’ll never tell him where Bridget is.”

“Was he ever violent with her?”

“Oh no,” she said, surprised. “I mean, he’s got a temper, and the two of them used to get into these crazy screaming matches, but he never crossed the line to abuse. Bridget would never put up with that, and she’d have told me if he ever did.”

She frowned. “Why?”

He handed back the phone. “You should save the message, just in case.”

She blinked. “In case what?”

“It establishes a pattern, in case he becomes threatening.”

She laughed at that. “Oh, he won’t,” she assured him. “No, he’s never done anything without his father tugging on his leash, and as big a jerk as Mr. Carelli is, he’s old world. He’s got some pretty firm ideas on how to treat women, and he’d never put up with his son being violent that way.”

“Humor me,” he said, his voice as implacable as his expression, and she shrugged again.

“It’s a waste of voicemail space,” she told him, but hit the key sequence to save the message.

“Thanks.” He dropped a kiss on her mouth. “Do me another favor?”

“Sure.” She reached up to hook her hands behind his head where she could toy with his hair.

“If he calls you again, will you tell me?”

“He probably won’t,” she assured him.

“If he does, I want you to let me know.”

She smiled quizzically. “Why?”

“It’s a good idea for someone else to know what’s going on,” he told her. “And since we’re dating now—”

“Is that what we’re doing?” she asked, amused.

He quirked a brow. “We had dinner and sex. What else would you call it?”

She chuckled. “Usually the dinner comes before the sex.”

“It did,” he told her. “We had pizza a week ago, remember?”

“So we did.” She smiled up at him. “Well, since we’re dating and I’m going to let you know if Max ever calls me again—”

“Thank you.”

“Would it be appropriate of me to ask you for a favor?”

“Of course,” he whispered. His hands slid around her to glide down her back. He cupped her ass, lifting her to her toes to push his pelvis into hers, and she realized she wasn’t the only one who’d caught a second wind.

She dipped her tongue in the corners of his mouth, delicately, before taking his lower lip between her teeth. “Take me back to bed,” she whispered.

“I still smell like wet dog,” he murmured, his tongue coming out to tangle with hers.

“So take me to shower then to bed.”

He grinned, dimples flashing in that way that made her want to jump his bones. “Done,” he said, and they practically ran down the hall to the bathroom.

Chapter Nine

“So you’re dating now?” Charles slurped his Quervo Gold margarita and reached for her chips and guacamole.

Lily slapped his hand away. “Apparently. We had food and sex. According to him, that’s dating.”

“Ah.” Charles held up a finger. “Only if you do it more than once. Otherwise, it’s a one-night stand.”

“Well, he asked me to have dinner with him tonight while we were in the shower this morning.”

Charles sighed. “I miss shower sex. Gary isn’t into it.”

“Who’s Gary?”

“My new boyfriend.”

Lily scooped up guacamole. “When did this happen?”

“Sunday. He’s the new Pilates instructor at my gym.” He snuck a chip while she was sipping her beer. “He likes pasta with pesto, oaky chardonnay and watching
Sex and the City
on DVD.”

“True love,” she remarked dryly.

“Hey,” he pointed a finger at her. “I don’t make fun of you boffing the pop star.”

“Former pop star,” she corrected.

“Still.” He polished off his margarita and signaled the waiter for another. “I could probably sell this to the tabloids.”

Lily snorted. “Sure. I think Britney lost custody of her kids again, and word is Tom and Katie are having triplets. I’m sure the former boy bander and I will make the front page.”

“I’m holding it in reserve for a slow news week.” He sent the waiter a flirty smile when he delivered the fresh drink. “Thank you, darling.”

The waiter sniffed. “Pig,” he spat, and turned on his heel to stalk off.

Charles turned back to Lily with wounded eyes. “Well, that seemed overly harsh.”

Lily grinned. “You dated that guy three months ago for a week and a half then stopped returning his phone calls instead of being honest enough to tell him you wanted out.”

“Oh.” Charles narrowed his eyes at the waiter’s back. “Oh yeah.” He looked back at his drink. “I probably shouldn’t drink this, should I?”

“I wouldn’t.”

He pushed the drink aside. “Waste of perfectly good Quervo. So where are you and Mr. Gorgeous going for dinner?”

“Mr. Gorgeous?” She grinned at him. “I’m telling him you called him that.”

“Hey, if you think it would make him swing my way, go for it.”

“I’m pretty sure he’s straight.”

“The good ones always are,” he mourned.

“What about Gary?”

“He likes pesto and oakey chardonnay.”

She chuckled. “Yeah, that’s not going to last long. How come all your relationships come with predetermined expiration dates?”

“Because the gay scene in this town is dullsville, that’s why.”

“I thought it was because you’re a man whore.”

“That too.” He reached for her chips again. “So. Where are you going for dinner?”

“We’re not.” She drained the rest of her ice tea. “He’s cooking for me.”

“He cooks?” Charles swallowed the food in his mouth and shook his head. “You have all the luck.”

“He cooks one dish, and he says he’s going to cook it for me now so my expectations of him will be realistic for the rest of our relationship.”

Charles opened his mouth to reply but stopped as his cell phone chirped. He pulled it off the clip on his belt to look at it. “This is getting old.”

Lily leaned forward, curious. “What is?”

He turned the phone so she could see the caller ID display. “Carelli Property Management,” she read, and frowned. “Why would my old apartment complex be calling you?”

“They’re not,” he told her, and silenced the ringer before putting the phone away. “Max is.”

“What?”

“He started calling last week, gave me some line of bullshit about how he’s worried for Bridget, he needs to talk to her.” He shook his head.

“Did you tell him where she is?”

“I didn’t have to, he already knows.” He caught the look on her face. “I mean, he knows she went to Hawaii—hell, that wouldn’t be hard to figure out, Lil.”

“No, I guess not. What’d he say?”

“That she moved hotels, she’s not answering her cell phone, and could I please tell him where she is because he’s very worried about her.”

“He’s so full of shit,” she muttered.

“No kidding. I told him I didn’t know anything, and that if she wasn’t answering her cell it might be a good indication that she didn’t want to talk to his dumb ass.”

Despite her concern, Lily laughed at that. “Did you really? I bet he hated that.”

Charles grinned. “Oh, he did. He tried to cover it, because he was still trying to sweet talk me into spilling something on Bridge. He got a lot snarkier when he realized it wasn’t working.”

“He’s called me a couple of times too, singing the same song.” She shook her head. “I wonder what he’s after?”

“Whatever it is, he’s not going to get it.” Charles tossed his napkin on his plate. “I gotta go back to work.”

“Hey, you’re sticking me with the check?”

“You’re buying, to make up for laughing at me last week.”

“I thought I was getting you tickets to that stupid concert for that!”

“You’re doing both,” he told her as he got up, and pointed a finger. “And if you call it stupid again, I’ll make you get backstage passes and take pictures of me with all the singers.”

She forced a grim smile. “Have a wretched day, dear.”