Sugar Rush (30 page)
“I have some fresh clothes up here, but don’t you need to go back to your room and change?”
He stopped just before ducking into the bathroom, which gave her a quite delightful view of his lanky, sinewy, beautifully naked frame in the morning light. She was never going to get tired of that view, and, in fact, made a mental note to come up with many reasons why he should stroll around naked. Often.
“Right. Maybe I should duck out now, shower there.” Baxter walked over to where he’d left his clothes on the chair paired with the rolltop desk. “Meet you in makeup? Or in the kitchen?” he said as he shrugged on his shirt and pulled on his trousers.
Lani stretched languorously, and couldn’t quite seem to wipe the grin from her face. “You don’t get any sick days? My shop happens to be closed for business right now, so I find myself available to play hooky.”
“It’s so very, very tempting, luv.” He stopped right in the middle of pulling on his socks when she let the sheet slide off her body. “Now who’s being mean?”
It wasn’t playing fair, she knew that, but she couldn’t get past how he looked at her, couldn’t really wrap her head around the fact that it was actually happening, and he truly wanted her, desired her, in all the same ways she’d wanted and desired him. “I’m not just hallucinating this, am I?”
He crossed to the bed, leaned down, and kissed her. “No,” he said, rather roughly, when he finally lifted his head. “But it is a rather perfect dream, isn’t it?”
She was still in bed when he let himself out. She knew she should be getting dressed and bracing herself for the day. But she was still too overwhelmed by the night before. She needed to think about it, let it sink in, figure out how she was going to handle the veritable tidal wave of emotions just one night spent with him had already ignited inside her.
She wanted to bake. Badly.
And not on camera, thankyouverymuch.
Yet, that was her only option at the moment. She reminded herself it was only because she was going to be baking on camera with Baxter that she’d had the night she’d just experienced.
She rubbed her hands over her face, and took a deep, bracing breath ... then still lay there and stared at the ceiling. “Yes, it is the perfect dream.”
The idea that she was going to have a week or so more of that dream with Baxter, in and out of bed, was pretty much the best thing she could possibly anticipate. Better than the best thing.
But the day after the last day with Baxter? She couldn’t imagine that. And she definitely wasn’t anticipating it.
She dragged herself upright and slid her feet to the floor beside the bed. “What in the hell have you gotten yourself into, Lan?” she muttered.
Forty-five minutes later, she was freshly showered, dressed, and disconnecting from a quick call to Charlotte. They’d shared only enough to let the other know the night before had pretty much been life-changing for each of them. Charlotte wasn’t so much surprised by Lani’s part, as she was by the fact that Lani had taken the leap. Lani, on the other hand, had no idea what to make of the Charlotte-Carlo pairing. As far as she knew Carlo had never been on Charlotte’s radar. Their paths had crossed numerous times at Gateau, because Charlotte had been a frequent visitor, but otherwise ... Lani shook her head. It was too much to think about. For all she knew, it was just Charlotte waxing rhapsodic due to the end of the long drought. Although that wasn’t the usual morning-after reaction. Usually, those were more along the lines of “what was I thinking? Was I really that desperate?”
Carlo, in addition to making godlike nectar coffee, was a really good guy. But not Charlotte’s typical choice. She specialized in the emotionally unavailable and relationship challenged. Lani had her own theories about why that was, which she’d shared with Charlotte in many a morning-after bake session. But this had been different. Or maybe the rose-colored glasses were Lani’s.
Too much to think about, not enough time to run home and bake it off.
Lani jogged down the back outside stairs, thankful the rain had stopped, wondering if anyone had seen Baxter leave earlier, wondering what, if anything, she was going to face. She’d been one hundred percent honest when she’d told Baxter she didn’t care what people said. She didn’t. In the end, it didn’t matter to her, nor would it affect her choices.
Lani jogged down the back outside stairs, thankful the rain had stopped, wondering if anyone had seen Baxter leave earlier, wondering what, if anything, she was going to face. She’d been one hundred percent honest when she’d told Baxter she didn’t care what people said. She didn’t. In the end, it didn’t matter to her, nor would it affect her choices.
But that truth was about the big picture. Living it from minute to minute, she realized, was going to be entirely different.
Rather than duck into the shop to see where the crew was in terms of pre-show prep, she opted to head straight to wardrobe and makeup. She knew by heart the recipes being featured in the show they were taping, and she could smell delicious scents wafting through the warm morning air, coming from the direction of the prep kitchen trailer. Maybe that would be her first stop instead. If she couldn’t bake her way into therapy, maybe she could eat her way there.
She climbed the stairs, pausing long enough to take a short, steadying breath and make sure her expression was sunny and normal, as if her entire life hadn’t changed last night. “Here goes nothing,” she murmured, and opened the trailer door, coming to a dead stop when she saw who was in the prep kitchen. “Charlotte?”
Charlotte looked up, ice cream scoop in hand, from where she’d been filling paper liners with cupcake batter. She smiled. “Hello, Lan.”
“Weren’t we just on the phone?”
Charlotte nodded.
“You said you were baking.”
Charlotted waved the empty ice cream scoop. “I was. Am. By the way, these strudel cakes are going to be incredible. Where did you get the idea to create miniature apple strudel in a cup?”
“Thanks. I adapted one of my great-grandmother’s recipes. You didn’t mention you were here, on set. Baking. How—?”
Charlotte shifted to the side and Lani saw that Carlo was standing behind her. He lifted his hand in a half wave, and smiled.
“Hey, Carlo.” Lani’s gaze shifted between the two of them. “So—”
“You’re short one prep chef this morning,” Charlotte explained. “He had to fly home—family emergency—so when Carlo got the call about it, I offered to come in and help.”
“That’s great,” Lani said, and meant it, now that she was past the initial surprise. “Thanks.”
“My pleasure.” Charlotte kept glancing at Carlo, whose grin was almost as sappy and goofy as hers.
Lani thought she’d seen every expression Charlotte was capable of making, but this was new. She looked ... happy. And not in that end-of-drought-yea-me giddy kind of way, but truly happy. For that matter, Lani noted, so did Carlo, who, other than pausing to wave hello to her, hadn’t taken his eyes off Charlotte. The way they were looking at each other was a lot like the way Lani had looked at—she broke that thought off with a silent gasp, stopping just short of lifting her hand to feel her own face.
But she’d seen her own face in the bathroom mirror, just minutes ago. She had, indeed, looked ... exactly like Charlotte. There was pretty much a hundred percent chance she and Baxter were going to be looking at each other in the same way Charlotte and Carlo were looking at each other.
Only she and Baxter were going to be on camera.
Being taped.
For all posterity.
“Dammit,” she whispered.
“Lan?”
“I—uh, just remembered, I forgot something. Just keep on ... doing what you’re doing. And thank you,” she said, knowing she sounded like a stuttering fool. She hadn’t thought things through. She’d been in a post-drought haze. “I mean it.”
She ducked back through the door and closed it behind her before she heard Charlotte’s reply. They’d catch up later. Apparently there was a great deal of that left to do. She still couldn’t get over that look. “Could it happen like that? Just like that?”
“Could what happen like that, luv?”
She looked up to see Baxter crossing the crowded lot toward the makeup trailer. He changed directions.
“Oh, um, nothing. I just—Charlotte is helping out.” She made a vague motion over her shoulder to the trailer behind her. “Carlo asked her. You’re short a—”
“Prep chef, I know. I just got off the phone with Rosemary. Johnny’s father has been battling Hodgkins a long time,” he said, referring to one of the crew chefs Lani had met and gotten to know over the past few days, “but he’s taken a turn for the worse, so we sent him home.”
“I’m really sorry to hear that.”
“So it’s good that Charlotte could help; we were worrying we’d get backed up.” He glanced at the trailer behind Lani, then back at Lani. “I guess things went well between Carlo and Charlotte, then, yes?”
Lani nodded. “Very well, it appears.”
Baxter closed the remaining distance and looked into her face. “Is that not a good thing?”
“What? No. I mean, yes, it’s a good thing.” Lani finally snapped out of the distracted mental loop she’d been in since she’d realized—“We’re going to be on tape today.”
“We are.” Now he frowned. “Is that a problem?” He stepped up on the bottom riser. “Did something happen after I left?” He reached up and touched her cheek in a light caress. “Did you have a change of heart?”
No
, Lani thought,
I just realized that my heart is going to be taped for all posterity.
She didn’t care that the rest of the world was going to see her sappy, happy, giddy-in-love expression. She cared that she was going to see it. Forever.
, Lani thought,
I just realized that my heart is going to be taped for all posterity.
She didn’t care that the rest of the world was going to see her sappy, happy, giddy-in-love expression. She cared that she was going to see it. Forever.
She was always going to have a handy reminder of exactly how she felt. Today. She knew if she ever saw so much as one of their episodes, she wouldn’t even need a copy of it. Watching herself with Baxter—if they looked at each other the way Charlotte and Carlo had been just now—would be forever emblazoned in her memory.
It was one thing to be living it, feeling it, in the moment of it, when she could only see one side of it. His face, his smile, his looks of desire ... for her. She didn’t see her own reactions, her own giddy smiles, and really hear her silly, infatuated laughter. She wouldn’t have that mental imagery to call up, on demand.
Except, now she would. It was like knowing, after the divorce, there was wedding footage of a happier time, sitting innocently on the shelf.
“Leilani?”
She looked at him, and though he’d asked the question calmly enough, gently enough, there was genuine concern, and not a little trepidation in his clear brown gaze. “No, of course I haven’t,” she said, feeling sorry for making him worry, even for a second. “I’m fine.”
“Are you sure? You rather look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
I have
, she thought.
The ghost of us.
, she thought.
The ghost of us.
“Why, there you are!”
They turned to find Alva bustling across the lot, decked out in a trim periwinkle jacket and skirt, with matching hat and handbag, no less.
“Miss Alva,” Baxter said, smiling easily, but he’d rested his hand on Lani’s arm, was squeezing it as if to reassure her.
If Lani’s heart wasn’t already completely compromised by him, it would have been in that moment.
“I’m headed over the causeway to market,” Alva was saying.
“Don’t go to any trouble for me, Miss Alva.”
“I know you must eat all fancy every night, living in the city, so—”
“I’ve been thoroughly enjoying my meals here, trust me.” He patted his stomach, which Lani could vouch wasn’t sporting an extra ounce anywhere.
So unfair.
“Probably too much,” he added with a grin.
“Well, I just wanted to show you that we know fancy cooking in the South, too. I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised by the menu this evening.” She looked past Baxter and seemed to notice Lani for the first time. “Where are my manners? Why hello, Miss Lani Mae, I didn’t see you there.”
Lani smiled, nodded, and held her breath, hoping there wasn’t an invitation forthcoming to dinner. She already knew that come the end of the day, she was going to hole up somewhere, with only her own thoughts for company. She was already almost desperately looking forward to. It appeared more than likely Charlotte would head off somewhere with Carlo, or would once Lani gave her blessing. With Baxter dining at Alva’s, Lani was guaranteed at least a little time completely to herself.
She didn’t want to have to come up with a polite way to decline, but was saved the trouble when Alva turned her attention immediately and fully right back to Baxter.
Lani’s smile relaxed and became more natural as she realized Alva wasn’t dressed up for market. She’d dressed in hopes of flagging down her Friday night date. She looked quite snazzy, actually. If Lani wasn’t mistaken, she’d even penciled her brows and opted for a bit deeper shade of her trademark rose lipstick.
“I hope you don’t mind if I excuse myself,” Lani said a moment later, as the two continued to chat. “I am supposed to be in hair and makeup.” She started to make her way past Baxter, but he blocked her path, though he kept his gaze on Alva. “I’m sorry, Miss Alva, but I need to talk with Lani, before she heads in.”
“That’s okay,” Lani said, “I’m—”
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