Hot to the Touch (21 page)

“I was an ass the other night.”

“No argument here.” Ace gathered the minced onions onto the knife and deposited them smoothly into a bowl.

“I didn’t listen, thought she was overreacting. And you.”

“Yeah, I got that loud and clear. You hear what happened?”

“Yes.”

“I was right. I told you. Bad intent. I picked up on it like radar.”

Troy gritted his teeth, telling himself to be patient. “I want to help Darcy.”

Ace smirked, took another onion, whacked it in half with more force than necessary and started slicing. “How can
you
help her?”

Troy couldn’t hold back a noise of exasperation at his attitude. “You know anyone in Raoul’s kitchen?”

“Yeah.” The answer came out grudgingly.

“How well?”

Ace’s eyes narrowed. “How well do you need me to know them?”

Troy sighed, leaning forward, hands on the edge of the gleaming counter. “Well enough to let us in for a few hours when there’s no one else there. Soon. Like, tonight.”

Ace considered him for a long minute. “This sounds illegal.”

“Yeah, and you never break the law.” He put his fingers together at his lips, mimicking someone smoking a joint.

Ace shoveled more perfectly diced onion into the bowl. “I’m trying to quit.”

“Good for you.”

“I already have, actually. For the most part. I want to be a chef someday. Darcy talked to me, said I can’t do it stoned. She was right. She’s awesome.”

Troy hid a smile. Good. He had the kid talking. “She’s a smart lady.”

“She’s also really talented, and she works incredibly hard. She’s worked incredibly hard to get all this.” He waved his knife around the kitchen. “Nothing was handed to her. Not like some people.”

Someone besides Troy had a pretty big crush on Darcy Clark. “You mean Raoul.”

Ace made a scornful noise. “He’s not a chef. He’s a con man. Takes orders, but can’t cook for shit. Sean was like that, too. I hope they go down together.”

“I think we can make sure they do.”

“Yeah?” Ace’s suspicion melted into eagerness. “What are you planning?”

“Nothing much. I need access to his computer for a couple of hours when no one else is around. And I could use someone with me who has cooking smarts.”

Ace’s smile started out small, then grew into a full-blown grin that bubbled over into a chuckle. “Dude.”

“You with me?” Troy held up his hand.

Ace high-fived him enthusiastically. “I can get you exactly what you need.”

14

DARCY OPENED HER FRONT DOOR, reached down to collect her paper and stopped halfway. Wow! It was warm! It was
gorgeous.
It was as if the hellish spring they’d been suffering through, all the rain and clouds and cold, had finally been vanquished overnight, the result of some spectacular final battle with summer emerging victorious. Nine o’clock in the morning and it must be seventy already. Sunny. Dry. A cool breeze bringing scents of growing and green.

Oh, what a blissful rebirth, and just in time. Because if a whole lot more kept going wrong, Darcy was going to quit this world and start her own planet.

She picked up the paper, brought it inside and went through the house, throwing open windows, inhaling huge lungfuls of the wonderful, sweet air pouring in. Mid-June for crying out loud. This was more like it.

If only the rest of her world would come around so perfectly and completely. The last week or so had been an exercise in pain and frustration. Sean was gone, she’d bumped Ben up to sous chef and Ace, bless his heart, to Ben’s position as assistant cook. She could see that kid going places soon. Already, his skills were developing as well as his confidence, and all with a clear head. She’d found a new dishwasher fairly easily to replace him. Gladiolas would be okay.

What still hurt was Sean’s betrayal. That he’d taken a job with Raoul wasn’t so terrible. Each man for himself, and poaching employees went on in the restaurant business all the time.

But did he have to take her recipes with him?

Apparently. Raoul undoubtedly offered a nice bonus if Sean came to work with menu in hand. Saved Raoul having to provide anything like talent or originality. Which he wouldn’t get from Sean, either, her only satisfaction. Once they went through her files, they’d have to change strategies.

But okay, enough brooding. It was a beautiful day, and as Troy had pointed out, there was nothing she could do about the situation but forge on with her own work as best as she could.

On her way to open the last window in her bedroom, the phone rang.

“Darcy, it’s Brit.”

Darcy closed her eyes. She hadn’t called her mother. Brit would be annoyed. “Hi, there.”

“Mom hasn’t heard from you.”

“No.”

Her sister made a sound of exasperation. “The situation is becoming ridiculous.”

“The situation has
always
been ridiculous.”

“You need to talk to her. Dad won’t drop the charges until she at least apologizes.”

Darcy walked over to her bed and sat down. Something was really bugging her about this situation, and she needed time to examine it. “Really.”

“They’re in a total stand-off. Acting like children.”

Darcy frowned up at the picture she had framed on her dresser. Mom and Dad, smiling, arms around each other and around Darcy and Brit. They’d used the picture as a Christmas card probably twelve or thirteen years ago. A photographer’s pose, with show-our-family’s-love smiles. Fake love. How long did her parents hold out before they gave up on loving each other?

“Don’t you think it’s time they acted like adults?”

“Yeah? Hey, good idea, Darcy.” Brit’s voice dripped sarcasm. “Why don’t you suggest that?”

“I’m not going to suggest anything.” She rose from the bed, breathing in the earthy, rich scents of summer, feeling powerful and free. Troy had been right. This issue had nothing to do with her. “They own the problem. They need to fix it. We’re not helping them if we keep stepping in. Let them deal with it.”

“Darcy! Mom could go to jail. You want her to go on trial?”

“She and Dad divorced years ago. Why should you and I keep being punished for this?”

“I can’t believe you’re not going to help.”

“Why should I?”

“Because it’s what people who love each other do.”

Tears rose in Darcy’s eyes. No. Not always. “Sometimes you have to let them help themselves. This is one of those cases. They loved each other deeply enough to get married all those years ago. Just because that love didn’t last—”

“Huh?” Her sister sounded taken aback. “They never loved each other deeply.”

Darcy blinked. “What are you talking about?”

“You didn’t know? Mom married Dad to get away from home. You know about Grandpa’s drinking. She didn’t take long to figure out she’d gotten out of the fireplace into the fire. She said she stood at the altar and recited her vows feeling panicky and sick to her stomach.”

Darcy sat back down on the bed, stunned. “Did Dad love her?”

“They barely knew each other, Darcy. I can’t believe no one told you this.” Brit’s voice gentled. “I assumed you knew. Mom was pregnant, so they had to get married fast. She lost the baby a month later.”

Darcy put a hand to her head. “Why did she tell you this and not me?”

“She told me when I got married. She wanted me to be absolutely sure about Jason.”

“Were you?” Darcy held her breath. Her sister’s answer mattered hugely.

“Absolutely. I had no doubts at all.” Brit spoke with total confidence. “Everything about being with Jason felt different from any boyfriend I’d had before, and not just because I was sober. I was a better, stronger person around him. I could tell him anything, and trust me, there was a lot of bad stuff to tell. He took it all in stride. Even though we fought, and still do, I know he has me at the top of his list all the time.”

Everything felt different. She could tell him everything. He took it all in stride. But was Darcy at the top of Troy’s list? He’d been at the top of hers.

She closed her eyes. Maybe she could be more confused, but she didn’t think so.

“I’ll call Mom.”

“Oh, Darcy. Thanks, honey. Thank you so much.” Brit’s words came out in a breathless rush. “I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

She punched off the call. Stared at the phone for a few seconds, then dialed. She wasn’t going to deliver the message Brit wanted, but she was going to speak to her mother.

Half an hour later, she finished the call. Everything Brit said was true. Her parents’ love hadn’t turned to crap, it had been crap to begin with. All her adult life, until the divorce, Darcy’s mother had been miserable, because she’d listened to her head instead of her heart and went through with the marriage, doomed from the start.

Darcy roused herself and opened the window in her bedroom, leaned on the window and breathed in and out steadily, rapturously. What did her heart say?

“Oh.” She jumped and bumped her head painfully on the sash. Troy’s car coming up the street.

Was it his Camry? It had to be. Tall single male occupant, gray car, slowing, then parking outside her house.

She ducked, then peered up over the edge of the sill, unable to keep from looking.

Troy. Getting out of the car. Striding up her front walk carrying a grocery bag, wearing shorts and a T-shirt.

Oh, my.

She was toast. Why was it that she could have had every possible legitimate and sound reason to stay away, to resist him, to keep herself from entertaining even the possibility of resuming their relationship, but one look made her entire body convulse with longing?

Or maybe just her heart.

She ran to the front door, slowed two steps from it and waited for the bell, which took several long seconds. Was he nervous? He couldn’t be any more nervous than she was.

Ding-dong.
Finally. She waited several seconds herself, then opened, not bothering to look surprised.

“Hi.” She met his eyes and the impact was as strong as it had been that first night at Esmee.
Aw, hell.

“Hi.” He was smiling at her, and she could do nothing but smile back. In one second it seemed everything they’d fought over was ridiculous, that nothing mattered but the depth of this feeling. The depth of quiet certainty that he was someone she desperately wanted to be close to in all ways for all time. Was this what Brit meant?

“What are you doing here?”

He held up the grocery bag. “Potato chips and Diet Coke. You said it was your favorite meal, eaten on the beach. It’s beach weather, so I thought you might like to go.”

His voice was confident, his stance solid, but she caught the vulnerability in his eyes that shot arrows right into her heart. She couldn’t refuse him anything, even if she wanted to.

She didn’t. “That sounds pretty nice.”

The grin that crossed his face made her whole world sing. “I have stuff to tell you, to talk about. To apologize for.”

“So do I.”

His smile grew brighter, sweeter. “Then let’s go.”

They drove to Bradford Beach on the shore of Lake Michigan in silence unbroken after a stilted conversation about the weather and how glad they were summer seemed to be arriving at last. There was too much to say, nowhere to begin to say it. But they were together, and Darcy was feeling full and happy, and it had been a long while since she’d felt that way. Like since the last time they were together.

Her mother had never felt this. She was suddenly more sure of that than she’d ever been of anything.

They parked and trudged over the warm sand to a likely spot, where Troy spread out a blanket and joined her on it, handed her a can of cold soda and opened the bag of chips. She ate a handful, following the salty crunch with sweet, bubbly cola. The sun shone on tiny waves covering the lake, making them sparkle. Milwaukee’s residents had come out, moles from underground, to worship the delayed change in season. Kids ran around shouting, Frisbees flew. A few brave souls dared to enter the water, which would still be icy from the long winter and cold spring.

“This is perfect.”

“I think so.” He grinned at her. “But any place with you would be.”

“And potato chips.”

He touched her shoulder playfully. Even that tiny touch made her melt with longing. “I guess Raoul’s Place will be opening soon.”

“I guess.” She was surprised he’d bring up the topic that way. Almost cheerfully.

“I’m kind of looking forward to it.”

She sent him a sidelong look. What the hell? “Really?”

“Really.” He looked smug, tossing back chips that would have zero effect on his incredibly toned body. “I have a strong feeling the opening is going to be a disaster.”

Something in his voice made her sit up and take notice. “What makes you say that?”

He shrugged. “I have this
feeling.
”

“You have a feeling?” She had no idea what to make of this.

“Sure. Ace’s not the world’s only psychic.”

“Okay…” She gestured, coaxing out his next words. “So what is this
feeling?
”

“I don’t think the dishes Raoul stole from you are going to fly at all.”

Darcy narrowed her eyes. “Why not?”

“I don’t
really
know, but I have a strong premonition that the recipes in his computer aren’t the ones he stole from you.”

She put her can down on the ground, excitement thrumming through her. “They’re not.”

“They’re close, probably. But on each one, some ingredients and amounts are different. Almost as if they’d been changed.”

“Changed.” Her brain was whirling. He was getting at something, something she was starting to understand she’d really, really like. “Who would do something like that?”

“Gosh, I have no idea. Someone who could get into his place after closing. And someone with pretty strong computer skills.”

“You and Ace.”

He gave her a look of horror. “Me? Ace? Absolutely not. We would never do anything illegal and satisfying and incredibly enjoyable like that. At least I wouldn’t. Particularly not to protect and avenge the woman I love.”

“You
broke
in and—” Darcy stopped in shock. “Did you say the woman you love?”