Family Secrets

Her knees nearly buckled. “You’re making étouffée?” It had been years since she’d had étouffée or jambalaya or any of the other favorites from her youth, although she’d hoped to get to a good restaurant when she’d been in New Orleans in July. As things turned out, she hadn’t had time.

He hesitated and his expression softened. “Chère, you look like you’re about to salivate. Sure, I made étouffée. I had to use frozen crawfish—” he made a disparaging face “—and I had to run all over hell’s half acre to find even that.”

She smelled it now, a savory aroma redolent of spices. “But I can’t eat now,” she groaned.

“Why? Did you have time for dinner earlier?”

“No, but...it’s after nine. If I eat now, I’ll never get to sleep.”

“Whatever you say. I’ve already eaten, so I’ll just put the rest in the refrigerator. You can have it tomorrow.”

“Don’t you dare!”

He laughed. “Sit down, then, and I’ll serve you.”

A little shiver of awareness rippled down her spine. He’d served her before—and she’d lived to regret it.

Nevertheless, she sat down at the card table, closing her eyes to better appreciate the lovely aromas wafting from her kitchen. Better to think of food than of this man who’d reappeared to screw up her life all over again.

SHARLEE GROANED and pushed aside her empty bowl. “I can’t eat another bite,” she declared. “Dev, that was wonderful. I didn’t realize how much I’d missed down-home cookin’.”

“I figured.” He stacked her empty rice bowl inside the étouffée bowl.

“I didn’t know you were such a good cook.”

“I’ve got lots of talents you don’t know about.”

That startled her out of her satisfied stupor. “Is breaking and entering among those talents?”

“Ah, Sharlee.” He had the good grace to look sorry, although it might have been an act. “When your grandmother told me not to come back without you—”

“Did she really say that?”

“Absolutely. She wants you home and she’s not in any mood to take no for an answer. But when she said that, I thought, hell, why not get you in a good mood by surprising you with a nice dinner? So I shopped—which isn’t easy in this town—and came on over. I had to talk my way in and then after I did, I realized I had no idea when you’d be getting home.”

“You still seem to have timed things well.” She looked at him with renewed suspicion.

“That’s because I called your office. Some guy in the newsroom said you were at a meeting that would probably run three hours, give or take. So I did everything except the last-minute stuff and settled down to wait.”

She pursed her lips. “Well, I’ll admit the food was great but you’re not going to soften me up with étouffée . You’re nothing but Grandmère’s errand boy and I am not going back to New Orleans with you, even if you feed me great meals every day of the week.”

“Okay,” he said as easily as if she’d refused another slice of bread.

She blinked. “Okay?”

“Sure, why not?” He picked up the dirty dishes. “I’m glad you’re sticking to your principles.”

“You are?”

“Hell, yes! As long as you refuse to listen to reason, I get a free Colorado vacation. Because Margaret Lyon has made it clear that if I don’t come home with you, I’m not to come home at all—period, end of discussion.”

She laughed. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Maybe, but who am I to argue with Iron Margaret?” He winked and carried the dishes into the kitchen. He returned with two steaming mugs of coffee.

She shook her head regretfully. “I can’t.”

“Decaf.”

He put hers down and she saw that he’d already added milk to make a primitive version of café au lait. So he remembered what she liked. But did he remember all of it or just this?

She looked away. “I’m too tired to argue.”

“Is that the secret, then? Wear you to a frazzle and you turn all soft and agreeable?”

She didn’t like being called “soft and agreeable” when in this man’s company; it was just another way of saying “vulnerable,” and she never intended to be that with him again. But she couldn’t quite think of a way to reprimand him so she hedged. “I’ve had a hard day, if you must know.”

“Poor Sharlee. Drink your coffee and you’ll feel better.”

She took a sip, then lifted her gaze and said impulsively, “Dev, why did you quit your job at WDIX—really?”

“I told you, I—”

“No, I don’t want some vague explanation.” She shook her head vigorously. “I honestly want to know. I thought that’s all you ever wanted to do—work in television.”

His face grew serious. “Politics,” he said finally.

“What did you have to do with politics? You weren’t a newsman or anything like that.”

“Family politics,” he elaborated.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand.” She stifled a yawn, although she was intensely interested. A hard day and a fabulous meal had conspired to make her drowsy.

“They all wanted a piece of me,” he said finally. “I couldn’t be loyal to everybody, and I couldn’t bring myself to make a choice and cut off the rest. So I quit.”

She regarded him with new respect. “We come from a complicated family, Dev,” she said with a sigh. “I can sympathize with you, but why a restaurant, of all things?”

“A café, really. It was funny how it happened. I was looking around for a business opportunity and ran into an old school friend. He’s a chef, and since I practically grew up with the restaurant business, it was a natural.”

“Is this your secret ambition—to own a restaurant of your own?”

He shrugged. “To be perfectly honest, I’m still not sure what I want to be when I grow up. This is something to do until I make up my mind. I liked television, but in New Orleans...” He shook his head as if rejecting his years at WDIX.

“You could leave New Orleans,” she said softly. “It’s not the only city in the country.”

He frowned. “It’s home. Everybody I love is there.”

She felt a pang at his words. Everybody she loved was there, too, but she’d left regardless. Maybe his ties were stronger than hers, although now that his mother was dead...

“I’m sorry about your mother,” she said suddenly. “Leslie told me.”

“Thank you, but don’t change the subject. Is Calhoun your idea of paradise?”

“Not hardly.” She laughed dubiously. “I want to work in California eventually, but so does everyone else in journalism.” She felt a twinge between her shoulder blades and straightened.

“You could always just move out there and start looking.” He walked to the love seat, where he scooped up several small corduroy pillows.

“What would I live on until I found something? My financial situation...is not good. I’ve had a lot of expenses lately.” Like keeping her car running, paying off credit-card debts she’d run up years ago when she’d still had expectations of a juicy trust fund. She’d scissored all her plastic more than two years ago, but it had still taken forever to get out of debt.

“You could always live on charm.” He flashed that grin again. Dropping the pillows onto an area rug on the hardwood floor, he beckoned her with a crooked finger.

She automatically leaned away. “What?”

“You’re a mess. I’m gonna straighten out a few of those kinks.”

“What kinks?”

“The ones in your back...your shoulders...your neck. C’mon, Sharlee, we don’t have all night.”

She couldn’t believe he was serious. “You want me to lie down on the floor and turn you loose on my back?”

“That’s right. You won’t regret it, either. I dated a physiotherapist for a long time—six months, at least. You can trust me. I’m good.”

She couldn’t trust him, not about this or anything else. He was too slick; she’d forgotten how slick, or maybe he hadn’t been quite so polished before.

She said a dignified, “No, thank you,” and stood up. Then, despite all her good intentions to the contrary, that ache between her shoulder blades made her groan.

“Jeez,” he said, “you are one headstrong woman.”

Before she could resist, he had her by the elbows, maneuvered her into place and pressed her gently down. Confused and off guard, her panicky gaze met his.

“It’s okay,” he said softly. “I won’t get out of line, I promise.”

“I never thought you...”

He flipped her over onto her stomach and her protests died away. She lay there on the middle of her living-room floor like a sacrificial lamb, waiting for the ax.

What she got was not cold steel but the press of warm strong hands. That initial contact literally took her breath away.

“This would work better if you’d take off that blouse,” he murmured. “I mean, it’ll work fairly well this way but—”

“It’s this way or forget it,” she said. And then she did groan. “My God, that feels wonderful.”

“Thanks. It’ll feel even better once you start to relax.”

Relax. Even those strong fingers kneading the clenched muscles of her shoulders couldn’t make her relax.

“I saw Leslie the other day,” he said, sliding his hands down her sides while his thumbs dug into the channels on either side of her spine. He settled himself astride her, his thighs tight to hers.

Sharlee felt as if she’d been immobilized by an electrical shock. His hands moved across her back, pressing and kneading, while his legs imprisoned her. Somehow he seemed to be relaxing her exterior while arousing her interior.

“Uhh...that’s probably enough,” she ventured weakly. “You don’t have to keep—”

“Just a minute more.” Those magic hands skimmed over her shoulder blades and slipped between her arms and her torso, pressing against the sides of her breasts before moving down to her waist. She wanted to scream at him, tell him not to try anything, tell him to keep his cotton-pickin’ hands where they belonged, tell him... that what she felt wasn’t really a rush of surrender and he was wasting his time if he thought so.

“Better?” He paused with his hands on either side of her waist.

“Yes.” It came out a strangled groan.

“We’re almost finished, then.”

His hands left her body to settle on either side of her head, fingers threading through her hair. The press and pull mesmerized her as he worked across her scalp and down to her neck. She felt limp as a wet dishrag, tight as a dry sponge. She felt so many things that her mind reeled.

A quick pat on the rump yanked her back to reality and his weight lifted.

“That should help you sleep,” he said in a low voice.

She wanted to yell at him, say, You idiot, now I’ll never sleep because you’ve got me so damned worked up. She rolled onto her back and found him standing over her, his legs on either side of her thighs.

“Yes, thanks.” She made no move to rise because to do so would lead to more physical contact, and she didn’t think she could stand that. How long had it been since she’d been so aroused by a man?

A long time. Too long, actually.

He offered a hand. “Let me help you up.”

“I can get up by myself.” She scooted out from under him then, one of her knees sliding lightly against his leg. She stood up, making a big production of smoothing her clothes back into place. “Th-thanks for everything—dinner, the back rub. Now I’ve got to get some sleep.”

“Hard day tomorrow?”

“All my days are hard.” Harder, with you in town.

“Okay.” He turned toward the door. “What shall I tell your grandmother?”

“That I love her and I’m not moving back to Lyoncrest.”

“She didn’t say you had to move into the family mansion, although I know she’d like that. She just wants you in town, nearby in case anything happens to—”

“In case anyone in my family wants to tell me how to run my life. No way. Been there, done that.”

“Okay. I’ll tell her.” Giving her a two-fingered salute, he paused in the doorway. “Sleep tight.”

“I will.”

Only she didn’t.

SHE APPEARED FOR WORK the next day red-eyed and tired and feeling harassed and persecuted.

Whereupon Bruce called her into his office and fired her.

CHAPTER FOUR

“BUT...BUT...”

Sharlee stammered to a confused halt, staring at Bruce with total disbelief. This was ridiculous; he couldn’t fire her! He’d just promoted her, for God’s sake. Dragging in a deep breath, she tried to get past the shock.

“Look,” she bargained, “I went to the planning-commission meeting last night. I got a good story.”

“I’m sure you did.”

“And I introduced myself around, told all the commissioners I’d be covering city stuff.”

“That doesn’t matter any longer,” he said. “You’re still fired—or maybe I should say laid off.”

“I couldn’t care less what you call it, Bruce. I mean... Don’t you at least want me to write up the meeting?”

“I’ll have someone else do that. You can pick up your final check at the front desk on your way out.” He looked distinctly uncomfortable. “I’m really sorry, Sharlee, but we’re...we’re cutting back and you’re the junior reporter in news. It’s just the breaks, kid.”

She had to be missing something. She racked her brain for an explanation. There had never been any complaints about her work, so what could it be?

“Okay,” she said, “I’ll take my old job back as lifestyles editor.”

Her editor shook his head. “Sorry, no can do. You’re news now and that’s where I’ve got to cut.”

“Bruce!” She stared at him in frustration—and then the light dawned. Putting her fists on his desk, she leaned over to stare him in the eye. “Did you happen to speak to any of my relatives in the past twenty-four hours?” she demanded, her voice rising.

A wash of red swept up his neck and mottled his face. “Absolutely not.”

She knew bluster when she saw it. “You’re lying. How dare you do such an underhanded thing! Was it my grandmother who told you to fire me?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He did, the lying SOB. “What did she promise you?” Sharlee pushed. “Cash? A job at WDIX?” She straightened, some of the shock dissipating while cruel reality began to sink in. “I hope you didn’t sell yourself too cheap. This kind of deal doesn’t come along every day.”

He looked down at the desktop and his shoulders hunched. “Sharlee—Charlotte, it’s not what you think...exactly. I...that is, when you—”

“Give it up, Bruce.” Wearily she straightened. “I understand exactly what happened, and you know what?” She crossed to the door and opened it wide so that all those eager listeners in the newsroom could hear without straining.

“You can’t fire me. I quit!”

Walking out, she gave in to her baser instincts and slammed the door so hard it rattled. Glaring around at the stunned expressions of her former coworkers, she squared her shoulders, prepared to stare them down.

Eric broke the impasse. “Tough break, Sharlee.”

Then they all swung into action: “Yeah, tough break. A shame... Unfair.”

Fair rarely had anything to do with life, she’d long since discovered. Sharlee drew a deep breath and walked to her desk. “He just caught me by surprise, that’s all. I was going to quit, anyway.”

They didn’t believe her, but they all nodded understandingly. Eric said, “If there’s anything I—” he glanced around “—anything we can do...”

She couldn’t force a smile. “Thanks, but I can’t think of a thing. Unless you know of any job openings?” She saw their helpless expressions. “I didn’t think so.”

Pulling open desk drawers, she began hauling out the personal items she’d accumulated over the past eleven months, trying not to think about her situation, about the underhandedness of her grandmother, about a future that no longer looked promising.

And especially, she tried not to think about where she was going to find another job.

RUNNING ON ADRENALINE, she made it all the way to her car before it really hit her.

She’d just been fired.

She’d never been fired before and it was horrible. She felt like dirt.

What was she going to do now? With trembling hands, she thrust the key into the ignition and gave it a quick turn. The engine came to life slowly. It coughed a couple of times but, all in all, behaved remarkably well.

Driving through a sparkling clear August day, Sharlee headed for her apartment—not home. It had never felt like home and she’d never made the slightest effort to make it homey. She’d never intended to be there for the long term. She’d planned to use the Courier as a springboard to something better, but after this it was probably a springboard to oblivion.

She stopped for a red light, the car idling like a lawn mower. Maybe she could still find some good in this. It would at least push her into doing something. She’d make a few phone calls, check the Internet, see what was out there—

A blast from a car horn woke her up and she made a hasty left-hand turn into her street. At least she still had transportation. If she had to go out of town for job interviews—

The engine sputtered and died.

Just like that, she found herself coasting down the street in eerie silence. Guiding the vehicle to the curb, she took a deep breath intended to forestall the cloud of gloom settling around her head.

She turned the key in the ignition. The engine growled. She tried again. The growl was shorter and fainter.

The third time, nothing happened. No growl, none.

“I’m doomed!” She said it out loud, leaning forward over the steering wheel with her eyes squeezed shut.

Then she straightened, flung open the door, climbed out and hiked the five blocks to her apartment, swearing under her breath with every step.

DEV WAITED IN THE ENTRY to her apartment building. Why was she not surprised?

“You!” Marching up to him, she whapped him good on the arm with her leather shoulder bag.

“Hey!” He rubbed his arm. “What’s your problem?”

“I hate you—oops, that’s not a problem, actually. It’s a fact.”

“But—”

“Devin Oliver, I could kill you for what you’ve done to me this time!”

A bulky form hurtled the last ten or so steps down the stairs to the right of the entryway. “Hey, what’s going on? Is this guy bothering you, Sharlee?”

Brawny Bill Bolliver to the rescue, clad in a net tank top and biker shorts, muscles bulging in every direction.

“He certainly is bothering me,” she said angrily.

“Want me to hurt ’im?” Bill pounded one big fist into the other palm. Turning, he did a double take. “Howdy, Dev. What’s up?”

“She’s mad at me,” Dev said. “I don’t know why.”

“Liar.”

“I can throw him out if you want me to,” Bill said, frowning. “Sorry, Dev, but someone’s got to look out for Sharlee.”

“I understand perfectly.”

They turned to her for agreement. She longed to smack them both. Instead, she marched to the stairs leading to her second-floor apartment. “I don’t care what either one of you do. Excuse me, I’m going to go slit my wrists now. I’d appreciate it if you’d just leave me alone.”

She stomped angrily up the stairs.

Bill looked at Dev. “She was joking, right?”

“Right. I’ll go along to make sure, though.”

SHE ALMOST SUCCEEDED in slamming the door in Dev’s face, but like a door-to-door salesman, he managed to wedge a toe inside.

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