Sweet Dreams on Center Street (15 page)

* * *

Samantha and Nia had settled at a corner table with
their lattes when in walked Billy Williams, a beefcake poster come to life in
tight-fitting jeans and a shirt that was about to burst from straining to hold
in well-developed pecs. His cowboy hat was pushed back on his head and he was
carrying a rope.

“Samantha Sterling. I got something to show you, girl,” he
called across the coffee shop, pulling all eyes to himself.

And there were plenty of eyes to pull. Shop owners and retail
clerks in search of a morning caffeine hit stood in the order and pickup lines.
Three middle-aged women occupied one table, while at another four young moms
with babies in their laps or parked next to them in strollers were looking at
Billy like he was a tray of truffles marked down fifty percent. And at another
table sat—oh, no—Hildy Johnson and Lila Ward, both wearing disapproving frowns.
Oh, boy, this couldn't be good.

Sure enough. Now Bill Will had his rope out and was swinging a
lasso over his head. And—oh, please, God, no—breaking into song, belting out
“Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy.” He began to do a hippity-hop bump and grind in
her direction, and the table of young moms clapped and let out whoops of
encouragement. Even the baristas stopped production and the hiss of the espresso
machines paused, leaving the floor to Bill Will.

He was making the most of it, too. Now he was at Samantha's
table. She slid down her seat, wishing she could make herself invisible. That
turned out to be a mistake because it only got her up close and personal in a
truly embarrassing way as Bill Will bumped and pumped. And—oh, no—Nia Walters,
girl reporter, now had her trusty camera out and was snapping blackmail pictures
while Bill Will went at it as if he expected Samantha to put a five-dollar bill
down his jeans. Nia wasn't the only one. Everyone with a cell phone was
recording this moment for posterity.

She tried to look anywhere but at Billy and that proved to be
another mistake, because her embarrassed gaze drifted to the door.

Why, of all the coffee joints in all the
world, do you keep walking into mine?

Chapter Thirteen

It's not so hard to find where you belong in this world. You
belong where you're needed.

—Muriel Sterling,
Knowing Who You Are:
One Woman's Journey

B
ill Will ended his routine by throwing his
hat in the air and letting out a big “Yeehaw!” Hildy sat watching in shock while
Lila scowled like an angry schoolmarm, but the rest of the crowd gave him a
round of applause.

There was also plenty of laughter and Samantha felt as if her
whole face was on fire. She managed a cool, “That was quite a show, Bill.”

He grinned. “Just wanted you to see your future Mr. Dreamy in
action.” He turned his full-watt smile on Nia. “Am I gonna be in the paper?”

“Definitely,” Nia said, and it was all Samantha could do not to
swear.

One of the moms called him over to their table and Bill Will
swaggered off. Samantha couldn't help sneaking a look in Blake's direction. He'd
moved to the order counter and was keeping his distance.

He should. Coming over to comment on his competition would make
him even more hypocritical than he already was.

She turned to Nia. “You're not really going to run that
picture, are you?”

“Of course. People will love it.”

“But the festival is about so much more than the Mr. Dreamy
contest,” Samantha protested.

“Don't worry. I know that,” Nia assured her. “Now, tell me how
you got the idea and what we can expect.”

Samantha launched into her spiel and Nia typed away on her
laptop. By the time they were done, Samantha had infected herself with a dose of
excitement even greater than what she'd pumped into Nia.

Then she saw Bill Will making his way toward them, probably for
a repeat performance. “I've got so much to do,” she said. “I'd better get back
to the office.”

Nia had seen him coming, too. “Yeah, you'd better,” she agreed.
“And lock the door.”

Samantha beat it out of there. In her hurry to escape Bill
Will, she failed to see that she'd run right into Blake. Or nearly. He moved his
cup away just in time to prevent their near-collision from spilling coffee on
his suit.

“Sorry,” she said, reaching for the door.

He pushed it open and followed her out. “I didn't know you
produced musicals on the side. I guess auditions are over for the day?”

She could feel her cheeks sizzling. “You're very amusing. Maybe
you should give up banking and be a stand-up comic.”

“Would you come watch me?”

“Could I throw rotten tomatoes?”

He smiled. “I prefer money.”

Didn't she know it?

Aware that he'd stuck his foot in his mouth, he cleared his
throat. “So, is that one of your Mr. Dreamy contestants?”

She snorted. “Why are you asking? Worried about the
competition?”

He just shook his head.

She looked at him in disgust, then said a brisk, “Well, I'd
like to stand here all day while you try to butter me up, but I have a company
to save.” Then, before he could say anything, she dashed across the street.
Cecily was right. Men!

* * *

Blake watched Samantha run across the street to her
business. When God handed out perfect bodies, she must have been at the head of
the line. And those full lips. Did women have any idea what it did to a man when
they wore that lip gloss stuff?

He frowned and tossed his coffee in a nearby garbage can. He
admired Samantha's determination to save her company and the clever ways she was
coming up with to do it. He'd love to tell her that, but if he did she'd tell
him where to stick his admiration. He was the villain in her story and nothing
he could say or do was going to change that. What a sick twist of fate. He
wasn't sure what he'd done to deserve it, but obviously Somebody Up There had it
in for him.

* * *

Cecily had just finished putting up her Mr. Dreamy photo
gallery when her sister returned. “Did Bill Will find you?” Dumb question
considering the expression on Samantha's face.

Samantha scowled. “Was that fiasco your idea?”

“What did he do?” Heidi asked, replacing stock on the
shelves.

“He practically gave me a lap dance in the middle of Bavarian
Brews,” Samantha muttered. “And, naturally, Nia got a picture.”

Cecily snickered. It was rude but she couldn't help it. The
image of her perfect older sister getting the Bill Will treatment in public was
just too funny.

“I'm glad you find it amusing. Are you sure you and Bailey
didn't set that up?”

“No, honestly,” she said.

“It's true,” Heidi seconded. “He came here looking for you and
we told him you were over there. We had no idea what he was going to do.”

Except knowing Billy Williams, Cecily had suspected it would be
something over-the-top. And he hadn't disappointed. His little stunt had been
worth a thousand ads.

“If anyone else comes looking for me, I'm not here. I moved to
Tahiti,” Samantha said, and stomped upstairs to her office.

“Your poor sister.” Heidi tried unsuccessfully to hide a
smile.

“It's not easy being the queen of chocolate,” Cecily said.
“Royalty has its price.”

Being a queen with no king had its price, too, Cecily thought.
Poor Sam carried a heavy burden of responsibility on her shoulders. Her life
would be easier if she had a king.

And Cecily had been getting these funny impressions about who
that king should be. She couldn't seem to figure out a thing for herself, but
when it came to other people she had a gift for seeing who should be with whom.
It was crazy, but she kept seeing her sister with Blake Preston.

That was, of course, preposterous. She was obviously losing her
edge. Another reason to get out of the matchmaking business.

What she was going to wind up doing, though, she had no idea.
Short-term, she'd help her sister with the festival and work for Charley. She'd
gone by Zelda's and offered her services, and Charley had been more than happy
to hire her as a hostess on weekends. With the stipulation that she could have
the festival weekend off, of course. That money, plus the little she had in
savings, would carry her through until spring. Then…who knew? Samantha would
have everything up and running at Sweet Dreams again and wouldn't need her. Mom
was slowly pulling out of her tailspin and would be fine and no one would really
care if she moved on.

She'd often felt invisible as a child. Mom had not only filled
out Samantha's baby book, she'd added extra notes and pictures. Cecily's got
half-completed. Not that Mom didn't love her. Her mother hadn't been stingy with
kind words or kisses. But time was a commodity she'd had difficulty distributing
evenly, especially once Bailey arrived on the scene.

It was hard to feel special when you were the middle child,
sandwiched between Miss Perfect and Miss Adorable. Samantha was the stellar
firstborn and Bailey was the baby of the family who kept everyone entertained
with her antics. Cecily was…the quiet one, the little supporting actress for the
two stars.

So what did she do when she grew up? She became a matchmaker
and took on another supporting role, working to give other people the love story
they wanted while managing her own love life on the side and doing a poor job of
it. Pathetic.

Well, after the festival she'd make a new beginning, maybe move
over the mountains to Seattle and… Do what? Her future was a thick fog.

Hopefully, she'd be able to turn on her fog lights and find her
way. Meanwhile, she'd go back to the house and have some lunch. “I guess that's
it for today,” she told Heidi. “I'll get out from underfoot before your
lunch-hour rush starts.”

Oh, that there would be a lunch-hour rush. Their midweek
traffic so far had been spotty, yet another thing to worry Samantha.

“Too late,” Heidi said as the door burst open.

In rushed a little girl with blond curls and cornflower-blue
eyes, followed by a short, slender, middle-aged woman Cecily immediately
recognized as Bernadette Goodman, the mother of Luke, their production
manager.

Luke had about ten years on Samantha and had been at Sweet
Dreams ever since he was a teenager, when he first started working on the
production line. When their production manager was lured away a few years ago by
a bigger company, Luke's strong work ethic and good people skills had made him
the perfect man to step in and take over. His wife had died two years earlier.
Bernadette was helping him raise his daughter.

Cecily hadn't seen the child since she was a toddler. Serena
had lost that baby look. She was a gorgeous little girl. How sad that her mother
wasn't alive to see her daughter grow up.

“We're here to visit my daddy,” the child announced gleefully.
“My daddy is going to take us for hangabuggers.”

“Hangabuggers,” Heidi repeated seriously. “That sounds
yummy.”

“Grammy said we can come back and have a chocolate after,”
Serena continued.

“An excellent idea,” Cecily said, and greeted the older
woman.

“Cecily, I heard you were back in town. Are you working on the
festival?” Bernadette asked.

“I am.” She'd never been around the company as much as Samantha
and she certainly wasn't as high-profile as Bailey, so it pleased her that
Bernadette remembered her.

“I'm sure Samantha appreciates the help,” Bernadette said.

Cecily remembered her sister's aggravation only a short while
ago and smiled. “I'm sure she does.” She bent over and said to Serena, “You're a
big girl now, aren't you?”

Serena nodded, making her blond curls bounce. “I'm four.” She
held up four fingers to prove it.

“That's definitely old enough for a chocolate.” Cecily smiled.
“What's your favorite?”

“Milk chocolate!”

Cute. The girl already knew her chocolate. “You know, we just
happen to have some here with your name on it,” Cecily told her. “Would a piece
spoil her appetite?” she asked Bernadette.

“Not at all,” Bernadette said, and opened her purse.

“No charge for any of the Sweet Dreams family.” She donned a
plastic glove and fished a good-size piece from the jar of seconds they sold by
the pound, while Serena jumped up and down with anticipation. She handed it to
the child, who took it eagerly.

“What do you say?” Bernadette prompted.

“Thank you,” Serena sang. She studied the candy and her brow
furrowed.

“What's wrong?” Cecily asked.

“I don't see my name on it.” Serena held it out for
inspection.

The three women smiled. “That's an expression, honey,”
Bernadette said. “It means Miss Cecily was saving that piece just for you.”

Serena beamed and popped the whole thing in her mouth,
fearlessly going where no grown-up would dare to go. “Good,” she said, and a
little trail of chocolate dribbled down her chin.

“Oh, Serena Hope,” Bernadette said, taking a tissue to her
granddaughter's chin. “What will your daddy say if he sees you all covered in
chocolate?”

“He'll say, ‘Another satisfied customer,'” a male voice
said.

Cecily turned to see Luke entering the shop from the hallway
that led to the factory. He was a large man with fair skin and hair, blue eyes
and a round face—not good-looking enough to win a Mr. Dreamy contest, but nice.
In fact,
nice
seemed to sum up Luke Goodman. He was
the boy next door, the perfect big brother, the friend who sat beside you in
homeroom.

And that was about all the chemistry Cecily felt looking at
him. A hard-working, loyal family man was every woman's ideal. Why, oh, why
didn't her stupid hormones wake up at the sight of him the way they did every
time she saw Todd Black?

“Daddy!” Serena squealed, and ran to him.

He scooped her up in his arms and kissed her cheek. “You smell
like chocolate,” he informed her. “I'm going to eat you all up.” He gobbled on
her neck, making her giggle and squirm.

“Don't, Daddy,” she protested halfheartedly.

He gave her one more kiss, then set her down and turned his
attention to Cecily. The look in his eyes told her that his hormones weren't
snoozing. “Hi, Cecily. It's been a while since we've seen you.”

Who wouldn't want a man like this? Wake up
in there!

Her hormones dozed on.

He's big. You like big men.

Zzzz.

Give up,
she told herself,
you were obviously meant to be single.

Todd Black's swarthy face came to mind.
Or
stupid.

No. No more stupidity. She was done with men like Todd Black.
She was done with men, period. After two years of running a dating service she'd
had too much opportunity to study them up close.
She has to
be a D cup.... What? I never said I was interested in marriage, just a
relationship.
(Translation: sex.) Oh, yes, she'd had enough of the
male of the species to last her a lifetime.

Not every man who came to her service was like that, she
reminded herself. This one surely wasn't. She smiled back at him. “How's it
going?”

“Can't complain,” he said. “I heard you were back.”

Apparently everyone in town had. “And busy,” she said, pointing
to the Mr. Dreamy pictures.

He shook his head. “Whatever brings in business, I guess.”

Okay, so it was a little cheesy. And maybe just a little
hypocritical, considering how judgmental she'd been of some of her clients. She
quickly shied away from that last thought.