Trapped in Tourist Town (12 page)

Only this was Cady. And he wasn't dating her. And she wasn't shallow. And though make-up sex sounded like a terrific idea to him, that wasn't how he wanted their first time together to be. He wasn't even sure why he felt this desperate need to make things right again. Embarrassed, he realized he'd been just as shallow as all those women he'd dated. He had only apologized for accused slights with the goal of make-up sex afterwards. Again, he put his face in his hands and groaned. He didn't deserve to be forgiven.

“You really care about her.” Bree's voice was a soothing balm on his battered emotions.

“Yeah, I care so much about her that I want her to sit down and tell me all the reasons why she wants to leave when I've only just come to realize that this is where I want to build my future.” And if that wasn't crazy messed up, he didn't know what was.

“You could buy her flowers and jewelry, a big fancy dinner ...” Quinn let the suggestion trail off.

“But that would insult her,” he finished.

“I believe he knows Cady better than he realized.” Bree's lips twitched at the corners.

“I believe he's in love.” Quinn shot him a calculating look.

“Love sucks.” Burke grumbled.

“And sometimes it all works out in the end.” Quinn took Mason in one arm and slipped Cora onto her knee with the other. She dropped a kiss on top of one head and then the other, giving both babies a quick squeeze.

“Mommy, I have bunches of books to read. Can we go home now?” Lily dropped a huge stack on the table at Quinn's elbow.

“And that's my cue, folks. Burke, good luck. Bree, work your magic.” She nodded at them both, adjusted the two babies higher on her hips, and stood with practiced ease.

Once Quinn and her children were gone, Bree got to work explaining exactly how Burke was going to win over Cady. He had to admit, her plan was better than anything his shallow brain could come up with. Even if didn't involve make-up sex.

Cady sat at her kitchen table, inputting the deposit slips from the checks Burke had written her into her budgeting spreadsheet. The plan for the evening being how she'd deal with expenses once she moved to New York. Okay, part of that plan involved a pint of Ben & Jerry's and a spoon. There may have been a glass or two of wine involved in that scenario, as well.

But Shannon Patterson, mom to triplets and wife to one of Scallop Shore's newest residents, Dean Patterson, called. She'd been waiting on the results of a major exam and had stress-baked again. Now she had a mountain of whoopie pies she didn't know what to do with. Could she drop them by the bakery tonight? It wasn't like Cady could say no. Whenever she stocked Shannon's baked goods, they always sold out faster than hers. She agreed to meet her friend downstairs at six o'clock.

While she killed time, Cady made the rounds to each room, turning on fans. The humidity was at an all-time high and her energy at an all-time low. The limp curtains lay still; not a single breath of air stirred through the multitude of open windows.

Dressing for the weather didn't seem to help. Wearing her skimpiest pink tank top and a ratty old pair of cutoffs, she still felt overdressed. She'd piled her hair up on top of her head just to provide a little relief.

A few minutes before six, Cady left her sweltering apartment and headed down the back stairwell to the bakery. Maybe she'd slip into the walk-in cooler and bask in the glorious refrigeration until Shannon arrived. A noise alerted her to activity in the bakery and she hurried to see what was going on.

“Shh, she'll hear you.”

“Um, too late. She already has.”

Bree and Foster looked up guiltily from the table they had been setting. Cady's eyes swept from one to the other, puzzled. Movement in the corner of the room revealed Burke, a vase of tall roses in his hand. His smile was sheepish and she couldn't help but be charmed.

“Thanks for all the help, you two, but I think I can take it from here.” He set the roses down on the counter, offered Foster a handshake and Bree a quick hug.

They both waved to Cady, neither saying so much as a word as they let themselves out of the bakery.

“I'm going to go out on a limb here and assume that Shannon is not meeting me at six o'clock.” Cady put her hands on her hips and waited for an explanation.

“Oh, she was already here. See? She left a plate of whoopie pies for dessert.” Burke pointed to the counter beside the cash register.

“And ... Foster made us dinner?”

“He brought the wine too. Excellent vintage.”

“Burke, what are you doing?” She stepped into the bakery-proper and took a moment to study the set up. The table in the far corner had been set with a gorgeous lace tablecloth. She assumed that was Bree's doing. Crystal wine goblets had already been filled with some kind of Chardonnay or other white wine. Dinner was waiting in a chafing dish on an empty table. He would have needed a lot of help to pull this off.

“I am trying to apologize. I embarrassed you in front of your friends and customers. I made light of your plans to move to the city.”

He came up beside her, taking her hands in his, and waited until she looked up before continuing. “I was being selfish. I thought if I could make city life sound less than ideal, you'd want to stay. But you deserve more. You deserve to follow your dreams. I have no right to take that away from you.” Bringing her hand to his lips, he brushed a kiss across her knuckles. She shivered.

“You mean that?” Cady eyed him dubiously.

“I mean that.” He gestured to the table. “Sit down. I'll serve dinner.”

Her lack of clothing suddenly making her self-conscious, she slipped into the chair Burke held out and tried to cover her over-exposed thighs with the cloth napkin he placed in her lap. An embarrassing rumble issued from her empty stomach, causing them both to chuckle. Whatever Foster had made for dinner, it smelled incredible.

“There was a salad somewhere. Oh, and a loaf of bread. I can check behind the counter.”

“Don't worry about it. I'm starved. What is in that chafing dish? Just set it in the middle of the table. I might share.” Cady frowned at the amusement in Burke's eyes.

“Okay, okay, let's get you fed already.”

Rather than doing as she suggested, and putting the warming pan right on the table, Burke spooned the entrees onto two plates and slid one in front of Cady. He sat down with the second one, pausing to gauge her reaction to the menu choice before placing his own napkin over his legs.

He needn't have worried. Scallops were her favorite shellfish. She should have been sick of them, as often as her father had brought them home. Earning a living from the sea, the Eatons had learned to love all forms of seafood. And Foster had his own recipe for broiled scallops—one he refused to share with anyone. It said a lot about Burke that her friend was willing to make this dish for him.

“Mm ... This is so good.” Cady moaned, licking a drop of buttery sauce from her lip.

She peeked under her lashes to find Burke watching her, intently. Her scalp prickled and heat that had nothing to do with the summer humidity had her breathing faster than normal.

“You aren't eating. Don't you like it?” She gazed pointedly at the fork that hung midway to his mouth.

He blinked a few times, taking a deep breath and then letting it out slowly. “I guess I'm a little distracted this evening.”

Awareness hummed through the air between them like a live wire, raising the hair on her arms. Burke's irises grew darker, his attention leaving her face to slowly travel downward. Cady had half a mind to swipe the dishes from the table and use the lace tablecloth as a bed sheet. With trembling fingers she reached for her wine and took a healthy gulp.

“Tell me about New York.”

“What are you going to do when you get to New York?”

They spoke simultaneously. Cady giggled, the wine rushing to her head and making a slightly embarrassing situation more than a little amusing. She took a bite of rice pilaf, chewing slowly as she waited for Burke to pick up his thread of the conversation. He shook his head, smiling.

“Tonight is about you. We've talked about my dreams, but we've never really talked about yours.”

“Why do you care?” She wrinkled her nose and leaned across the table a bit. “Seriously. No one else has ever bothered to ask. No one in my family. None of my friends. They let me talk about moving to New York, but no one has ever asked me why.”

“I don't know.” Burke broke eye contact, lowering a troubled gaze to his plate. “This is uncharted territory for me. I'm used to women whose greatest ambition in life involves snagging a rich husband and figuring out the most exorbitant ways to spend his money.”

Cady snorted. “You won't find
any
women like that in Scallop Shores.”

“I think the city could use more women like you. Independent women, determined to make their own way in life. Brave.”

“Some would say I was too ignorant to know when I should be frightened.”

“I disagree. You stand up to what scares you. I wouldn't be surprised if the biggest reason you wanted to move to New York is because the idea of leaving your family behind terrifies you.”

Wow. Cady cocked her head to the side as she let the chilled alcohol slide down her throat. She'd never thought of it that way, but it actually made a lot of sense. She was terrified of leaving her family, leaving everyone and everything that brought her comfort. Yet threaded into the fear was a thrill that she couldn't deny. A spark of adventure that spurred her on.

Burke's phone chirped in his pants pocket. He looked down briefly, and continued to eat.

“Oh, for goodness's sake! See who it was. It may be important.”

“I have a feeling I know who it was, and I don't really want to deal with it.”

His parents. Crap. She'd forgotten about Burke's troubles.

“Let me check it for you. Give me your phone. You keep eating.” She stuck her hand over his plate so he couldn't take another bite until he did as she'd asked.

He rolled his eyes, rummaged around for his cell phone and slapped it in her palm. Cady woke up the screen, tapped on the message button, and read.

Where are you? I expected you here for a meeting with the shareholders this afternoon. This is not acceptable! You have responsibilities, B. Call me.

Cady frowned. Burke was watching her intently. He wasn't going to eat until she told him what the text had said. Just then, her own phone started ringing.

“Grand Central Station,” she answered.

“Cady?” It was Fran at Kittredge Manor.

“Fran? Is something wrong? Auntie?”

“No, sweetheart, nothing is wrong with your aunt. I didn't mean to give you a scare. It's just that you are our go-to person when things get crazy here. Are you busy tonight?”

She looked across the table at Burke, his expression one of concern. Was this supposed to be a date? Or was it just an “I'm sorry, be my friend again” dinner?

“Are you still there? Cady?”

“I'm here, Fran. What do you need?”

“Most of our kitchen staff called in sick. You ask me, there is a big party out at Folley Pond tonight. We have a mountain of dishes that need washing and Carl is about to quit if I don't call in reinforcements. Is there any way you can help us out?”

Well, if this was truly supposed to be about her tonight—

“I can do you one better, Fran. I'm coming—and I'm bringing an extra set of hands. We'll be there in a few minutes.”

“Bless you, sweetheart. We'll see you when you get here.”

She ended the call and looked up guiltily.

“You volunteered us for some kind of grunt work?”

“Right on the first guess! My goodness, you're a smart one.” Cady realized she still clutched a cell phone in each hand, her gaze going from the roses to the wine to the delicious food.

“I can call her back and cancel. I should.” She shouldn't have been so quick to ruin their evening. She handed Burke his phone back and shoved hers in her front pocket.

“Don't you dare! It sounded important and we're not going to let this person down. If they called you to come and help out on a Saturday evening, then they were desperate.” Burke swept his napkin from his lap, swiped at his lips, and tossed it on the table before standing up. “So, where are we going and what are we doing?”

“Kittredge Manor Nursing Home. We're washing dishes.” She may as well have said they were scrubbing toilets, by the look that came over his face. It took supreme effort on her part not to laugh.

“Awesome. Love that place. Let's go.”

“Hey, I really appreciate this. But don't think it gets you out of answering your dad. The guy is pissed.”

The poor guy looked miserable, though whether it had to do with washing dishes on a Saturday night or having to face his father, she couldn't be sure. But for the moment, he was giving up his time for her. If she weren't careful she could easily fall in love with Burke Sanders. Who was she kidding? Part of her already had.

• • •

“So I told you once how Auntie spent a summer in New York? She was a nanny for this rich family that lived on Central Park West.”

Burke was more than familiar with that area of Manhattan. It was where he'd grown up. But he'd finally gotten Cady to open up to him, and he wouldn't interrupt that for the world. He nodded.

“She still talks about those few short months as if they were the best of her life.” Cady's voice was soft, full of wonder and emotion.

“I can see it in her eyes whenever she goes back there, in her memories. She loved it all. The kids she took care of, the days spent playing in the park. It was like a dream. She fell in love there too.”

This gave him pause, and Burke looked up from the inside of the giant pot he'd been scrubbing. The tip of his nose itched and he was forced to scratch it with a huge yellow glove-encased hand. Unbeknownst to him, he'd inadvertently filled the glove with dishwater, and when he raised it to his nose, he got a shocking surprise. The front of his borrowed white apron was soaked.