The Perfect Dish (30 page)

He stood up, disbelief haunting his eyes. “You mean you just don’t want to get married? I guess we could live together but seems to me if you love someone, you should do the right thing.”

“That’s just it.” She could do this, no matter how much it hurt. The pain was her own fault. She’d known this day would come. She stared at the seams in the wood floor. “I don’t love you.”

He laughed, short and sharp. “That dog won’t hunt. I already know you love me. I see it in your eyes when you look at me. I hear it in your voice when you say my name and laugh at my jokes. I taste it in your kiss. I feel it in the way you cling to me when we make love. Say the words, Mery. Don’t be afraid of the truth. You love me.” The assuredness in his voice didn’t surprise her. His confidence was one of the things she lov—she refused to finish the thought.

“No,” she repeated. “I don’t.”

“Look me in the eyes and say it.”

She inhaled, willed herself to be clinical and detached, clenched her fists and lifted her chin to meet his gaze. “I’m fond of you, that’s true but from the very beginning I told you I was only interested in one thing. Sex. And while I have enjoyed your company, I do not love you now nor will I ever love you.” She turned and stepped away from the table. “I think it best if we just agree this relationship has come to its natural conclusion and part ways. I apologize if I’ve caused you any–”

“I give up. Talking to you is like trying to herd cats.” He grabbed her and kissed her. Hard. Desperate. Proving. The onslaught nearly undid her, buckling her knees with the sudden rush of pleasure, the sudden knowledge of everything she was giving up.

It was for his own good. But mad passion swept that thought away as quickly as it had popped into her head.

He tangled one hand into the hair at the back of her head and used the other to press her against him. Even through the fabric of his suit, his warmth invaded her senses. He teased with his tongue, mimicking the dance of lovemaking until colors spun behind her eyelid.

She did want this man. Maybe more than she’d ever wanted a man in her life. But that was selfish of her and dangerous for him. She broke the kiss, gasping for a sane breath, praying for the strength to walk away and not look back every day for the rest of her life.

He kept her close, resting his chin against her cheek. The rise and fall of his chest began to slow. “You’re a bad liar.”

A soft inhale was her only reply.

“I love you, Mery.”

“You don’t love me. This is just the infatuation stage of—”

“I’m not a patient, Mery. Don’t tell me what I feel. I love you.”

“Stop saying that.”

“Not saying it won’t make the feelings go away. Loving you is like breathing. I’m not about to stop either one.”

Shaking her head she pulled out of his embrace. “I have to go.”

“Just like that you’re gonna turn tail and run? I didn’t peg you for a coward.”

“Well, now you know.” She tucked her bronze evening bag beneath her arm. Her hands were shaking too badly to hold it any other way.

He stepped in her way. “Give me one good reason why marrying me is a bad idea.”

She moved back, not trusting herself to be so close to him. Her heart ached but she shoved the pain down, just like she had so many times before.

“The difference in our ages, for one.”

He rolled his eyes, disgust evident in the tight line of his mouth. “You can’t let go of the age thing, can you? I don’t see what it matters if we love each other.”

“You need a woman who can give you children.”

“Don’t tell me what I need.” The glint in his eyes was dark and dangerous. “I know what I need and she’s standing in front of me.”

“Now who’s a liar?” She planted a hand on her hip. “Your dream of the future doesn’t include children?”

“Are you listening to me, woman? Until I met you, it didn’t even include getting hitched.” He drove his fingers through his hair. “I don’t need kids to be happy. I just need you.”

“And you don’t care that when you’re sixty, I’ll be seventy.” She had to make him understand. “I could need constant care. I could be an invalid. Or worse, I could be in diapers.”

His soft laughter filled her ears. “You’re assuming I’m gonna live that long.”

She froze.

The smile died on his lips. “I didn’t mean because of you—”

“Don’t.” She shook her head, tears blurring her vision. “I’m not going to marry you, Kelly. Nothing you say or do will change my mind.”

* * *

Someone was pounding on her brain. Meredith opened her eyes a slit. The pounding wasn’t in her head. It was at her door. She tugged the covers up. They’d go away soon enough.

Voices joined the pounding, calling her name, yelling for her to open up and threatening to use a gun to shoot the lock out.

She pushed the covers down. Jack never should’ve bought Viv that Walther PPK for her birthday. Like the woman wasn’t dangerous enough already.

Meredith dragged herself out of bed, pulled on her robe and trudged to the door. Yanking it open, she glared at her friends. “If I so much as see a gun—”

“Oh please.” Viv waved the comment away. “Do you actually think I’d ruin the shape of my new Chanel bag with that hunk of metal?” She looked Meredith up and down then wrinkled her nose. “The bloom is certainly off the rose, isn’t it?”

She pushed past before Meredith could answer. Celia came in right behind her.

“I didn’t invite you in,” Meredith said, shutting the door.

Celia’s eyes sparkled. “We’re doing an interdiction.”

“Intervention,” Viv corrected.

“Right, intervention.” Celia looked around. “Anything good for breakfast in here? I’m famished and Viv wouldn’t let us stop at La Boulangere for even the tiniest little pain au chocolat.” She flattened her hand on her stomach. “They have the best French pastries. And their rum raisin scones—”

“Celia, concentrate.” Viv snapped.

Putting her hands to her head, Meredith groaned. “I don’t need an intervention or breakfast. I need to be left alone.”

“I’ll make coffee.” Celia headed for the kitchen.

“Why are you here?” Meredith asked. She tugged her robe a little tighter. Maybe if she went along with whatever cockamamie game they were playing, they’d leave sooner.

Viv took Meredith by the arm, led her to the couch and sat her down, then patted her leg. “You haven’t answered your phone for the last three days. What did you think we would do?”

“Some people would get the hint,” Meredith growled. “I want to be left alone.”

Viv reached out like she was going to brush the hair from Meredith’s eyes then stopped. “Don’t look at me that way. We’re here to help.”

“I don’t need help.” Above the noise of Celia rummaging, Meredith could hear her humming. The tune sounded vaguely familiar.

“You turned down a proposal from a man whose food tastes as good as he looks and who also happens to be madly in love with you.” Viv shook her head. “You might need shock therapy.”

“I don’t love him.” Meredith drew her knees up and wrapped her arms around them, trying to insulate herself from the pain of those words.

Viv nodded. “Which is why you went to see him in hospital?”

Meredith scowled at her. “That was out of a sense of obligation.”

Viv leaned in. “Does he make you happy?”

“That isn’t the point.” Whatever Celia was humming was starting to stick in her brain. Meredith put her feet back on the floor. “You know what happens to the men I marry. When it comes to love, I’m the unluckiest woman to ever walk the face of the earth.”

Coffee started, Celia came and sat in the chair adjacent to the couch. “Unlucky? Are you serious? Look how many men I’ve dated. I haven’t married a single one.” Sighing, she sat back and started humming that infernal tune again.

“That’s because they were all wrong for you.” Why wouldn’t they just leave her alone? And stop humming.

“Exactly,” Viv said. “But you, my dear, you’ve had the cosmic fortune to meet and marry two wonderful men, both of whom loved you madly. And now, in some bizarre twist of karmic matchmaking, you’ve met another one.” She gave Meredith a little shove. “How dare you say you’re unlucky in love? You’re the luckiest woman I know where men are concerned.”

Celia softly cleared her throat. “William Thackeray once wrote ‘To love and win is the best thing. To love and lose, the next best.’” She smiled, clearly pleased she’d remembered the quote.

Meredith bit her lower lip. She’d never thought of herself as lucky. Hard to do when most of the black dresses in her closet had been worn to a spouse’s funeral. Until recently, anyway.

“Grief is the price we pay for loving someone,” Celia said quietly.

Meredith looked up. “Don’t quote me to me.” She shook her head. “There’s more to it than that. He’s too young. People will look at him and wonder why he couldn’t do better. Or they’ll look at me and think I’ve got some sort of Svengali hold on him. The papers already make too much fuss over it.”

“Screw the papers and their gossip columns.” Celia rolled her eyes. “What do you care what people think? That wouldn’t stop me.”

“Oh really?” Meredith raised her brows. “So how
do
your parents like Mick? Have they invited him to the country club yet?”

Celia tucked one leg up underneath her. “This isn’t about me. My situation is different.”

Viv slipped her arm around Meredith’s shoulders. “Truly, deep down inside, can you honestly say you don’t love him?”

Meredith shrugged off her friend’s embrace and stood up. “None of you understand. I can’t take the possibility of him dying. I will not bury another man I love. I can’t.” She went into the kitchen and got out some mugs. Celia’s tune was rolling around in her head, the words dancing on the tip of her tongue. What was that song?

Viv sighed. “He’s not going to die. He’s young and healthy.” She waved a ring-laden hand in the air. “He’s perfect.”

Meredith poured coffee into her cup. “He could get into another motorcycle accident.”

Viv furrowed her brow. “I thought his bike was totaled?”

“It was,” Meredith answered. “But any day now he’ll take that insurance check and buy another one. He’s stubborn that way.”

Celia stopped humming and shook her head slowly. “He already spent that insurance check.”

Meredith turned. “What?”

“He already spent that check.” Celia fidgeted with her skirt, pressing and repressing the seam with her thumb and forefinger.

“On what?” Meredith picked up her mug to take a sip of coffee.

Celia shrugged and started humming again. The name of the song came to Meredith like a stab of pain.
Unforgettable
.

Celia obviously knew something. Probably through Mick. Meredith narrowed her eyes at the little blonde with as much ferocity as she could muster. “Stop humming that damn song and tell me where that money went. I swear, if he bought some sort of extreme sports-motorcycle hybrid thing, I will never speak to the man again.”

Celia chewed her fingernail.

“Tell me,” Meredith insisted. “What did he buy?”

Celia gulped down a breath. “Your ring.”

Meredith almost dropped her coffee. “How do you know that?”

“Mick was with him when he picked it out.” She sighed dreamily. “I wish I could have seen it. It sounds so beautiful and romantic. You’re his yellow rose of Manhattan, Mer.”

With a shaking hand, Meredith set her mug down. Her breath hitched in her throat. He’d given away the cookbook and now this. He’d given her love and she’d hurt him in return. She’d turned him down. Rebuked him. Told him all she’d wanted from him was sex.

He’d said he loved her and she’d told him lies.

“I’m such a fool.” She covered her face with her hands and wept.

Two pairs of arms hugged her, held her; a duet of voices whispered that it would be all right. She took the comfort they offered, but only for a moment.

“I don’t deserve him.”

“Shut up,” Viv muttered, her own eyes damp.

Meredith hiccupped, half-sob, half-laugh. “Thanks.” She wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. “I guess I did need an intervention.”

Viv’s low chuckle mixed with Celia’s giggle. “You’re welcome,” they both said.

Meredith’s soft grin faded as a new fear crept into her mind. “Let’s just hope I’m not too late.”

Chapter Thirty-Three

Shelby stuck her pencil behind her ear, folded her arms and kicked her feet up onto the chair across from her. “You’ve got some nerve showing up here.”

“Hello, Shelby.” Mery didn’t expect to be welcomed with open arms. She’d spent the last two days working up the nerve to face Kelly and trying to figure out what to say that would fix everything. She stayed were she was, standing at the entrance to the bar. “I’ve come to talk to Kelly.”

“Little late for that, don’t you think?” Shelby’s eyes reinforced the disapproval in her body language.

“No, I don’t think it’s too late. I want, no, I
need
to apologize to him.”

“Hmph.” Shelby shook her head. “I’d say that’s the least of what you need to do.”

Mery sighed. “Look, I told him up front I wasn’t interested in getting married. I tried to tell him I wasn’t the right woman, that he needed someone who could...” She trailed off at Shelby’s response. “Why are you laughing?”

“‘Cause telling Kelly what he needs is like trying to climb a greased pole. You’re not gonna get far.” She narrowed her eyes a little. “How’d you do?”

“Not well.” She leaned against the wall. “He told me not to tell him what he needs.”

“Sounds about right.” Shelby plopped her feet onto the floor and leaned an elbow on top of her paperwork on the table. All traces of laughter were gone. “How do you really feel about my brother? And tell me the straight-up truth.”

Mery twisted the two-diamond ring on her right hand. “I love him. I love him so much I thought I was doing the right thing by pushing him away.” She bent her head and stared at the toe of her ballet flats. “I was an idiot.”

She looked up, caught Shelby’s gaze. “I have to talk to him, Shelby. I have to explain.”

A subtle smile curved Shelby’s mouth. “How much do you love him?”

“With all my heart.”