Nick shifted position in his seat. “Can’t say I’ve had the honor. Ms. Dunbar is my work associate.”
“
Work associate
, huh?” The comedian eyed the rest of the audience as if including them in on a secret. “What, uh,
work
are you doing on a Saturday night?”
Reese answered for him. “We’re here to promote Nick’s cooking show for urbanites to your hip audience.” She turned slightly to address the people around her. “This is Nick Coltrane, everyone. Host of
And He Cooks Too
, broadcast every Saturday morning at nine.” She gave them the cable channel.
Dave backed up slightly, as if debating when he would regain control of his act. “Uh, thanks for that, Ms, uh, Dunbar, was it? I’m sure everyone here will tune in.”
He glided away, escaped, to circulate amongst the rest of the audience, soliciting more stories of family visits gone awry.
Had that been a set-up? Part Two of Nick’s earlier exploration of her personal life?
“What was that about?” Nick asked.
“Didn’t you plan it that way?”
“Me?” Just then, Dave shifted gears to the next phase of his act and remounted the stage. The lights went down. Further discussion would have to wait.
Reese tried to relax, enjoy the rest of the show, but she kept wondering how she had suddenly become the show’s spokesperson. Was that her doing? Seeking the spotlight? Or had she been an unwitting pawn?
As Dave ended his act, she clapped heartily. She actually liked the show.
“Hey, Bro,” Dave called, approaching them after the lights came up and the audience drifted out. “If I’d known you were coming, I would have reserved a better spot for you.” His eyes took in the limited array of tables and chairs surrounding them. “At least you would have been a row farther up.”
Nick clamped an arm around his old friend. “Got a great view from here. And, despite Reese’s enthusiastic endorsement, I wasn’t here to play up my show.”
Dave dismissed the apology. “Forget it. I never know what reactions I’m going to tap when I work the audience. That’s what keeps my act interesting. And fun for me.”
“Reese is an up-and-coming chef here in the city. She joined our show to learn the business and broaden her resume.”
“Another television chef?” Dave asked. He stood back and observed her. “Had I not witnessed that natural stage presence here tonight, I’d be warning you off getting into what I’ve heard is an already-crowded field. But you’ve got something, lady. I hope my bud here isn’t holding you back?”
Before Reese could decipher that remark, Nick said, “Holding her back? She’s only been with us a week. And I’ve already got her helping me evaluate a new format we’re considering.”
“Really?” Dave asked, his eyes still on Reese. “A new format that’s going to put her in front of the camera?”
“Well, no.”
“Why not? She’s good, Nick. I picked up on that immediately.” He took Reese’s hand. “If I could figure a way to work you into the act every night, I’d give Nick’s show a run for its money.”
Gently, she removed her hand from his. Was she the prize in some kind of competition between the two men? No. Couldn’t be. Nick wasn’t interested in her. Yet it was interesting that the feel of Dave’s hand, though warm, lacked any of the heat generated whenever Nick touched her. “That’s, uh, very generous of you, Dave. I’ll keep it in mind.”
“Yeah, Dave. Very generous,” Nick said, his words slightly clipped. “But Reese isn’t interested. Right, hon?” To make his point, he pulled Reese into his arms and kissed her, dipping her in a final flourish.
What the…
It was so unexpected, so fleeting, she fought to keep her balance as her knees shook beneath her. A sudden shock of electricity swept through her from her fingertips to her neck.
Eyes fuzzy, she saw Dave staring at them open-mouthed. “Yeah, well. I get the message. See ya ’round, pal. And Reese, don’t forget my offer, if, uh, things change with you and my buddy.”
While she attempted to catch her breath, Nick took her elbow and steered her out of the small theater into the sparkling night and his waiting car before she was able to formulate a coherent thought.
Neither spoke, as Nick’s driver transported them through a city still very much alive with weekend revelers. From their opposite sides of the seat, each gazed out upon the night closing in around them, but the sound of labored breathing on both their parts permeated the silence.
Instinctively, she knew
what
that had been about—two male friends trying to one-up each other. But she didn’t know
why
it had happened. Why had Nick found it necessary to ramp up the rivalry? More important, why did she care? And why could she still keep feeling his lips on hers long after the brief contact?
Nick apparently didn’t want to talk about the kiss. Or anything else. Out of the corner of her eye she observed how he’d hunched back against his side of the seat, ankles crossed carelessly, a hand splayed across each thigh. Yet one index finger relentlessly tapped out a rhythm only he knew.
So they weren’t going to acknowledge it. Act like it hadn’t happened. Then she could keep quiet too. She probably couldn’t speak now if she tried, her heart rate having grown so erratic.
Finally, in a seemingly nonchalant tone, Nick asked, “Would you actually do that? Be part of Dave’s act?”
“Huh? Oh, that.” She’d written off Dave’s comments as being part of the macho warrior thing between the two men. Dave hadn’t been serious. Still, it had been a welcome boost to her ego. “I enjoyed being interviewed.”
“But you weren’t serious?”
Was he pursuing this to dilute the aftermath of the kiss? Rather than answer his question, she asked with one of her own. “Why did you take me there? For awhile, I thought it was to promote your show.”
“I didn’t remember the audience participation part until the lights went down and it was too late to warn you. Swear to God, I thought this would be a great way to unwind and get better acquainted.”
She twisted around to face him. “How would you say that went?” She wasn’t going to let him off the hook.
He blinked, slid farther back in his seat. “Uh, back there? That was just a guy thing, that kiss.”
She lifted a brow. “Really? It seemed more like a guy
and a girl
thing to me.”
He raised his palms, pleading. “Dave’s my friend, but he sometimes doesn’t recognize certain boundaries. Like, you work for me, with me,” he quickly corrected. “I wanted him to know that his intrusion into my personal life wouldn’t fly this time. The, uh, kiss was the first thing that came to mind.”
“I see. Just telling him to back off didn’t occur to you?”
“Like I said, it was a guy thing. We don’t come right out and say those things to our buds.”
Time to back off, though it had been fun to needle him. “Okay. I get it. As for your friend, I didn’t take his offer seriously. But he was, well, his act anyhow, was comforting. For the first time all day, days actually, I relaxed and let go. That’s why I probably went too far when he stuck the microphone in my face.”
“No, no, Dave was right. You’ve got the knack. You’re a natural.”
“You think?”
“Yeah, I really do.”
Now he was being polite. He couldn’t be serious. Since they were approaching her home base, she tucked the thought away and focused instead on how to extract herself from this sort-of-date without any further awkwardness.
The car pulled up to her apartment building. He shifted his body maybe an inch closer to her, angled his head expectantly, and for all of a nanosecond, she thought she saw his eyes flicker, like he was about to kiss her again. And for all of that same nanosecond, she would have let him, but better sense prevailed in the nanosecond that followed. She grabbed his hand, squeezed it and thanked him again for a great time. She allowed the driver to open the door for her and she was off without looking back.
There, she’d fixed it so he didn’t have to make a move. Sometimes she wished she was a less decisive person.
Chapter Eight
“Reese? I didn’t expect you to come home after your big day yesterday.” Reese’s mother caught her in her arms as soon as Reese entered the kitchen of the family’s Connecticut home. “Did you ever find out what that
emergency
was that took your boss away from your dinner?”
Inhaling the piquant aroma of her mother’s potato salad, Reese pulled up a chair and settled at the kitchen table. “He’s not my boss. He hosts the show. And he called shortly after you and I talked to apologize for running out on me.”
Her mother hitched a shoulder. “And? Why did he tear out of there like he did?”
Reese shrugged. She’d known full well this would be her mother’s first question. She recounted Nick’s explanation about his aunt having some design change that had to be settled immediately. “He was barely gone an hour before he called me, so it must have been easy enough to deal with.”
Her mother settled in a chair beside her. “Doesn’t it seem a little too coincidental that this aunt had this big decision that required his presence on a Saturday night? Just as you and your date were eating?”
“It wasn’t a date, but it’s interesting you should say that. The same thought occurred to me while I was sitting there alone in the restaurant. Then I forgot about it after we—” She stopped abruptly. How much about the end of the evening did she want to reveal to her mother?
“After you what?”
She fiddled with a stack of sugar substitute packets. “We went out a second time last night.” She waited for the predicted raise of her mother’s eyebrow, then quickly filled in the blanks. Most of them. She was still processing the kiss that had left her so shaken, she could barely look at Nick on the ride back to her apartment.
After she recounted the second part of her evening, her mother observed, “Doesn’t sound like a non-date to me.”
She resumed sorting the sugar packets. “Why do you say that?”
“He picked you up at your apartment building. You saw a show, of sorts. And you didn’t talk business.”
“Well, I did. When I thought he’d brought me there to publicize the show.”
“That doesn’t count. And you enjoyed yourself.”
Reese studied the table. “Did I say that? No, I didn’t. At least I don’t think so.”
Her mother leaned over, touched her arm. “You didn’t have to. Your tone and the way you’re intentionally not looking at me telegraph it in capital letters.”
She squirmed in her seat. “Okay, I enjoyed myself.”
“You did like him, didn’t you?”
Reese rolled her eyes.
Careful. She’ll be looking for mother-of-the-bride dresses if given the slightest provocation.
“He’s not bad. And that charm thing may be more real than I first thought.”
And he doesn’t kiss too bad, either.
Her mother sat back in her chair, folded her hands and offered an expectant smile. “So?”
“Stop right there. Taking me to his friend’s showcase was his way of apologizing for leaving me at the restaurant. That’s all there was to it.”
Except for the kiss he claimed was a guy thing.
“Uh-huh. Then why are you here, if not to charge up your mother’s heart at the prospect of wedding bells down the road? You’re glowing. And put those sugar packets back where you found them.”
She examined the contents in her hands. Ten little packages. How did they get there? She quickly dumped them back in their container. “I learned something about myself last night.” She related the part about chatting with Dave Macklin during his act. “It was so spontaneous, Mom. I didn’t deliberate over my words like I do everything else. And I was funny. People laughed. Dave even complimented me afterward. I haven’t felt that high since the day I discovered cooking.”
Her mother patted her hand. “Your father’s entertainer genes have been waiting in the wings for you.”
“When have I ever wanted to get up in front of people?”
“What do you mean, Sis? You’re the prima donna of the kitchen.” Her middle stepbrother, Charley, currently a college freshman, framed the doorway, all six-foot-two of him. “That’s almost the same.”
Her youngest stepbrother, Evan, a high school senior, though shorter and slimmer, pushed past his older brother to grab her in a bear hug. “Good to see you, Sis. It’s been awhile.”
“Where’s Seth? Isn’t he home from school yet?”
“Your oldest brother is playing golf with your stepfather,” her mother explained. “Elliott wanted to introduce him to some business associates, since Seth hasn’t nailed down a summer job yet.”
“How’s the new gig going?” Charley asked.
“From what she’s been telling me, I think the on-camera part of your sister’s new job is beckoning,” their mother replied.
“I had a great time being part of Dave’s act last night, but I wasn’t making that connection.” Or was she?
Her mother waited until Reese was back in her chair to look her straight in the eyes. “You wanted to tell me, all of us, that you found something besides cooking that excites you. I think that’s because you wanted us to make the leap we just made rather than doing it yourself.”
“No, that’s not it, Mom.” She waited a beat. “I wanted you to confirm it.”
Her mother chuckled.
“There. I’ve said it. Am I nuts?”
“Does this mean our sibling wants to become a TV star?” Charley asked.
Become a TV star? Long ago, she’d tucked away painful memories about celebrity. She’d held them tightly in check ever since, but their aftermath had shaped the rest of her life.
When she was sixteen, her father’s song became the nation’s number one country hit. Rather than celebrate his achievement, though, she’d chastised him for leaving her and her mother for his own glory. The angry words she’d thrown at him had been building for years, since she’d learned at ten that her parents’ marriage was a sham. After an irresponsible one-night stand, they’d stayed together a decade for her sake.
Three days later, after her tirade, the man and his blossoming career were dead. She hadn’t caused the aneurism, but forgiving herself for the pain her outburst must have driven into his heart was another matter. An ache he’d died too soon for her to erase. The need to restore the recognition and glory she’d stolen from him that day had driven her ever since.