The Perfect Dish (27 page)

Today he was going to get the chance to explain. His only chance. Do or die. He’d never been so wired in all his life. He hadn’t seen her in a week and he missed her something awful. She’d wanted the time to herself, she’d said, to think and work and get her life back on track.

Maybe he should apologize for derailing her life, too. Hell, he’d apologize for World War II if it got her back.

She opened the door on the second knock, which made him smile. Must have been waiting on him. “These are for you.” He nodded toward the flowers. His heart raced like a jackrabbit. Damn, she looked good.

“Thank you, they’re lovely,” she said as she slipped them from between his side and his crutch then stepped out of the way to let him in. “How are you doing?”

“Getting around okay. Still bruised up like a one-legged bull rider, though.” He stayed on the landing and waited for her to close the door.

She gave him a funny look. “Don’t you want to sit?”

“In a minute. C’mere, will you?” The need to touch her overwhelmed him. He hooked his thumbs on his crutches and wiggled his fingers. “You’re too far away.”

She smirked and stepped close enough for his fingertips to graze her hips.

“Closer,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

One more step but she kept the bouquet between them. He bent his head and inhaled her perfume. “I’ve missed you.”

“I haven’t forgiven you.” She tipped her chin up. Their lips were dangerously close. “But I’ve missed you, too.”

That was a good sign. “Kiss me.”

She shook her head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

It was a fantastic idea. “Indulge an injured man.” He tried to look as wounded as possible. “Just a little one?”

She didn’t move away. He took that for a yes. The kiss was gentle and sweet. The soft warmth of her mouth against his was better than he remembered. He didn’t want to be without her again. Hopefully, after he explained everything, she’d feel that way, too.

Stepping back, she broke the kiss. “Consider yourself indulged.” Her cheeks flushed and she motioned toward the couch. “Go sit.”

He ambled to the couch, eased himself onto the cushions then laid the crutches on the floor. “Feels good to get off those things.” Felt even better to kiss her again.

“I bet.” She took the roses into the kitchen. A scraping sound broke the silence. He twisted to look over his shoulder. With a vase in one hand, she shut the cabinet then moved to the sink and turned on the tap. She arranged the flowers while the container filled. “I met with Shelby yesterday.”

“I know.” He’d grilled Shelby afterwards to see if Mery had asked about him. She had, but only to see how he was recovering. He’d hoped for some sort of broken-hearted out-pouring.

“She said you talked to Dee before she went back.” She carried the vase over, set it down on the coffee table then sat at the far end of the couch.

He shrugged and made a mental note to tell Shelby to keep her yap shut.

“She also implied that you paid Dee off to keep her away.” She watched him intently. “It’s not really any of my business but if you want the woman out of your life, giving her money sends a pretty mixed message.” She paused for half a second. “Of course, it’s still a better way to spend your insurance check than buying another motorcycle.”

Here we go.
He shook his head. “I didn’t give her money.”

“Shelby said—”

“That’s part of what I came to tell you.” He swallowed, thinking about what he’d done. “I gave her the cookbook.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

“You gave her the cookbook?” Mery’s brows arched up sharply. Maybe he’d gotten knocked on the head harder than she’d realized in that accident “Why did you do that? That’s what she wanted in the hospital and you told her no.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “I should explain this from the beginning.”

She folded her arms across her chest and leaned back. “That’s what you’re here for.”
Make it good so I can take you back with dignity.

He settled against the couch, turning to face her better. “That cookbook has been passed down through my family for more generations that I can number. It
is
magic but no one seems to remember exactly how our family came to have the book anymore.”

“And the purpose of the book?”

“It creates recipes that will accomplish certain goals.”

“Like persuading me to sleep with you.” A tendril of anger sprouted in her belly. She hated being taken advantage of.

“No.” He caught her gaze. “That was
not
the purpose of that recipe.”

She glared at him. Did he think she was stupid? “I saw the word persuasion.”

“That was to get you to help Shelby, not me. Using the book for personal gain can destroy your life.” His voice held a reverent tone. “I wouldn’t do that. Not that I haven’t thought about it, but I’ve seen what it did to Dee.”

That was interesting. “Explain.”

He propped his arm across the back of the cushions. “Once created, a recipe only stays in the book for seven days unless you bind it. Without the binding ritual, the page goes blank and the recipe can’t be created again.”

“So copy it down on another sheet of paper.” Didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure that one out, just a PhD.

“Doesn’t work.” He shook his head. “I’ve tried it. It never tastes the same, still good, but always a little off. And not a lick of power.”

“What’s that have to do with your mother?”

“I’m getting there.”

“Sorry. Go on.”

“Once the recipe is bound, it will continue working for the creator unless they eat what was made from the recipe.”

“I never did see you eat one of those chocolate fireballs.” She thought back. “Or anything that night at the gallery.”

“Right. The power of the recipes would have been useless for my purposes. Someone else could have used them but not me.” He paused. “So far so good?”

She nodded. “I’m keeping up.”

“Okay.” He exhaled hard. “I’ve never told this to anyone.”

“I appreciate that.” Like anyone would believe this anyway. She rolled her hand forward in a circle. “Explain all ready about how you didn’t use the chocolates to get me into bed and about Dee.”

“Almost there. The recipes
can
be used for personal gain but the risk of failure carries a heavy price.”

“That implies the spell created isn’t all powerful.”

A half-smile creased his mouth. “You got it. The book is white magic. The spells are suggestive in nature only. They take what’s in your subconscious and make it more desirable. If you truly didn’t want to follow the spell’s leading, you wouldn’t.”

She rolled her eyes. “So you’re telling me deep down inside, I really wanted to sleep with you.”

“No. Or yes. Maybe. Well, you didn’t complain.” He grinned but it disappeared quickly. He cleared his throat. “What I’m saying is that you really wanted to help Shelby.”

“I’ll go along with that. But at the gallery, I was thinking about buying one of those photographs. I can’t believe obscene pictures of wheat products is something I’ve always secretly longed for.”

He shrugged. “I’m not a mind reader, I only know how the spells work.”

“Get back to your mother.”

“Yes, ma’am.” His shoulders relaxed and he rolled his head from side to side before continuing. “The problem with using the spells for personal gain lays in the very fact I just explained. They don’t always work the way you want. When used for someone else’s benefit that’s no big deal. But when a spell used for your own fails, the spell’s suggestion turns back on its creator.”

“You become susceptible to the spell?”

“Yes.” A soft sigh escaped his lips. “Dee’s first spell was one of loyalty. She used it on my father but all he wanted was an uncommitted good time.”

“Ouch,” she said. The implications of such having such a spell reversed...“What happened?”

“After he left her, pregnant with me, every one she met became her best friend. She was an easy target. Within a few months, she’d given away most of her earthly possessions. Out of loyalty to her
friends
.”

“She understood the consequences of the book to begin with?”

He nodded. “Perfectly.”

“And yet she did it again?”

“Numerous times. Spells of irresistibility, wealth...” He ticked them off on his fingers. “And love.” He fisted his hand and bounced it on the back on the couch. “Probably more I don’t know about.”

“If she knew all these, why did she bind the spells to the book? Why not try them for a week and see what happened?” she asked with a slight shrug. Seemed logical to her.

“Most were already bound.”

She nodded. “I saw the love spell.”

“One of the oldest. And most powerful.” He hesitated. “Dee has always had a bit of a chip on her shoulder. Can’t tell her anything. She does what she wants.”

Mery snorted out a quick breath. “I guess that proves she’s definitely your mother.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He narrowed his eyes but the curve of his mouth softened the look.

“I believe I warned you about the dangers of motorcycles.” She tucked one errant rose down a little further into the bunch.

“And that makes me stubborn?”

Glancing over at him with a coy smile, she nodded. “That and a few other things. You pursued me when I told you not to. You kissed me when I said it was a bad idea. You repeatedly tried to explain all this to me at the hospital when you knew I didn’t want to listen.”

“All of which turned out for the better.” He splayed his hands over his thighs. “You fail to mention the times I did exactly as you asked.”

She screwed up her mouth as her brows furrowed. How hard had he hit his head? “Like what? Name one time that happened.”

Rising up off the couch slightly, he adjusted his jeans. “Like the time you ripped my shirt off in the cab, forced me to come upstairs with you then proceeded to have your way with me. I never complained once.”

“What?” Hoping to distract him from the heat radiating off her face, she threw a pillow at him. “Forced you?”

He caught the pillow and laughed. “With your mature feminine wiles.”

“
Mature
feminine wiles?” She stared at him. Had he forgotten this was supposed to be his chance to get back in her good graces? “And this makes me want to date you again how?”

Sticking the pillow behind him, he slid toward her. “Because I adore those mature feminine wiles.” He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed her fingertips. “Forgive me.”

She pulled her hand back despite the delicious tingles prancing across her skin. “I still don’t understand why you gave the book to her.”

“I didn’t want it to come between us.”

“You should have given away the motorcycle instead. Don’t you worry she’ll get herself in deeper?”

“There’s nothing left of the bike to give away.” He shrugged. “Shelby begged me to give Dee another chance. I was tired of arguing and well...” He sighed. “I thought getting rid of the book would make you happy.”

“Hmm.” She liked that the book was no longer in the picture. “I don’t like that you did it to make me happy. This is supposed to be a fling, remember? Flings don’t require sacrifice.”

He laced his fingers with hers and gave her hand a little squeeze. “We both know this isn’t just a fling.”

“Whoa.” She jerked back and stood up. “It
is
a fling. That’s it. Strictly casual.”

Shaking his head, he ran his thumb down the seam of his jeans. “Whatever you say.” But the look in his blue eyes didn’t mesh with his words. They said he wanted her and not just for another long, hot night.

She walked to the kitchen, poured herself a glass of ice water and gulped it down. That was a little better. Her internal temperature dropped a notch. “I’m serious. You know how I feel about getting involved in anything heavy. This isn’t that kind of relationship. I made that clear up front.”

“Fine. Just a fling.” He grabbed his crutches, pulled himself up and limped over. “Does that mean we’re back on?”

She swallowed another icy mouthful. “I guess so.”

He threw his head back and whooped.

She nearly dropped the glass. “Stop that.” She smacked his chest. “You scared the daylights out of me.”

“Well, then.” He waggled his brows and moved closer. “Maybe you should give me a lesson in how to behave properly indoors.”

She fought the urge to smile. “I don’t take on impossible clients.”

Balancing on his good leg, he leaned his crutches against the counter and pulled her into his arms. “I missed that wicked tongue.”

“It’s only been a week.” A long week. She’d missed him, too. Every single part of him.

“Seems like a coon’s age.” He kissed her forehead. “I’ll try really hard not to screw up again, okay?”

“Okay.” She inhaled his wonderful clean male scent, loving the warmth of his body against hers. She rested her hands on his hard chest. Had it only been a week? It seemed so much longer. Her blood thrummed with anticipation. She wanted to tear his clothes off and remind herself what she’d been missing.

“So I’m forgiven then? Completely?”

“Hmm...yes, you’re forgiven but you’re on probation.” She nipped at his stubble-shadowed jaw.

His grin went lazy at her touch, his lids lowering even as his eyes darkened with need. “Is that like house arrest?”

“Uh-uh.” She kissed his neck. The heat of his skin flushed through her. She wanted him now.

“Bed arrest? ‘Cause I could probably earn my freedom through good behavior.”

She laughed. “Somehow I doubt that.”

His smile disappeared.

“Don’t look so pitiful.” She traced a finger over his lush lower lip. Heaven help her but he was a succulent piece of man candy. “I’m willing to let you try.”

Chapter Thirty

“It’s a pleasure to have you with us tonight, Chef.” The manager presented a bottle of wine. “Compliments of the house.”

“That’s mighty nice of you,” Kelly said, giving the manager a grin while he squeezed Mery’s thigh under the table. Warmth curled in her belly at his touch, a touch she’d become even more intimately acquainted with in the last two months of hanging out, staying in, and getting to know what made this wonderful man tick.