The Marriage Recipe

“Call me if you ever need me,” Glynnis said. “I’d come work for you anyday.”

“Thanks, but I’ll have to let you know. I’m somewhat unemployable at the moment.” Rachel tugged her coat from her locker and grabbed her purse. She dumped the padlock and key into her bag, then she reached up to the top shelf and took down the only other item in the locker. She kept most of her recipes at her apartment, but she’d made copies of the desserts she baked for Alessandro’s and stored them here in a small notebook.

“You’re giving him those?” Glynnis asked.

“Hell, no,” Rachel said with a wry laugh. “He’s not going to sue me, and he can rot somewhere hot if he does.”

“So what will you do? You don’t have the money to fight him if you can’t work,” Glynnis said, obviously concerned.

“Oh, I’ve got a job waiting for me,” Rachel declared, not wanting Glynnis to worry. Rachel would have to put her tail between her legs to ask for the position, but once she walked in the door, she knew the owners wouldn’t turn her away.

“You got a job? Where?” Glynnis asked.

“Kim’s Diner,” Rachel said, the idea taking hold.

Glynnis appeared confused. “Kim’s? Is it in Jersey?”

“No. Morrisville.” Rachel saw her expression. “Indiana.”

“Never heard of it,” Glynnis admitted.

That was the kicker. “No one has.” The adrenaline of the moment had worn off completely and Rachel trembled as she digested the implications of her rash decision. She’d hate leaving New York. She loved the city. She vowed to make her exile only temporary. She plastered a brave smile on her face.

“You know what the tough do when the going gets rough?” she asked.

Glynnis shook her head.

Rachel picked up her bag and gave Glynnis a hug. Hopefully, she’d see her friend soon. “The tough go home.”

Chapter Two

“Who would have thought coming home would cause this much stir,” Rachel said as she put away the last of the clean dishes.

“Now, don’t let all the gossips get you down.” Her grandmother Kim said as she handed Rachel one last plate. The diner was only open for breakfast and lunch, and as soon as longtime patron Harold Robison finished his last cup of coffee, the workday would be over. Harold liked to linger, and for years had ignored the sign indicating that Kim’s closed at precisely three o’clock. “Everyone’s just glad to see you, that’s all.”

“Yeah, that’s it,” Rachel told her grandmother. She’d been back in Morrisville for two full days now. Once she’d stormed out of Alessandro’s, she’d been a woman of action. One day and two phone calls later and she’d had her place sublet. One more phone call had gotten her car out of its Queens storage lot. A week after tossing cake on her former fiancé, Rachel had been on the road, driving from New York to Indiana with her personal possessions loaded in the trunk.

Unfortunately, she hadn’t escaped town quickly enough to avoid a courier-delivered envelope from Anthony and Marco Alessandro’s lawyer. Not only had they docked her final paycheck for the cost of replacing Marco’s suit, leaving her with a mere six dollars and ten cents, but they’d also given her thirty days to turn over her recipes or face civil action.

The amount they’d valued her recipes at had been astronomical. The morning after the cake flinging, Rachel had prayed that Marco would see how stupid and silly they were both being, but apparently, he was determined to punish her.

She no longer had rent expense, but she did have credit card debt. Now she was about to add legal bills to an already stretched budget. She refused to take charity from her mother and grandmother—it was bad enough she was back in her childhood bedroom, which had pretty much remained unchanged since the day she’d left for New York City. Her window still faced the Morris house; the only difference was that Colin Morris, her friend since childhood, no longer occupied the room across the way. As youngsters, they’d used flashlights and Morse code—get it? Morse/Morris code, they’d laugh—and sent messages to each other until late at night.

For income, Rachel had negotiated eleven dollars an hour to work at Kim’s. Her grandmother had wanted to pay her more, but Rachel knew that any money for a higher salary would come from her grandmother’s pocket and not the restaurant’s cash register. Kim Palladia lived comfortably, but Rachel didn’t want to be in debt to her family. It was time she faced the music.

Starting with heading to the law office of Lancaster and Morris, which had provided legal expertise to the town of Morrisville for over fifty years.

Rachel tugged on her coat. She’d walk across Main Street, through the parking lot, and be in the law-office lobby before her bravado deserted her. She dreaded hearing what Bruce Lancaster would have to say. He was one of the sharpest legal minds in the state and a former childhood playmate, but she had to admit she was petrified he’d tell her that Marco had a legitimate claim to her recipes and she’d have to turn them over.

“I’m leaving,” she called.

Her grandmother waved. “See you at home tonight,” she said. She’d moved in eight years ago, adding another body to the Palladia homestead. The century-old Victorian home, which stood on a half-acre lot, was really too big for just two people. But it had been in Rachel’s father’s family for two generations, and Rachel’s mother simply couldn’t bear to part with it. Rachel knew that her mother hoped she’d eventually move home and raise a family in the old place. She hated disappointing her, but figured all those years in New York City were a clue that she didn’t want to be a small-town girl.

The blustery March wind whipped down the street, causing the Easter decorations hanging from light poles to sway. Morrisville had signs for every holiday. The current ones displayed a white bunny carrying an egg-filled basket and advertised the annual Knights of Columbus Easter-egg event the middle of the month.

Rachel gathered her coat closer, and soon was inside the first set of huge wooden doors. She crossed the black-and-white tile floor and pulled on the next set. Lancaster and Morris was situated in the former county seat, an old court-houselike, three-story building complete with a rotunda. Colin Morris used to say there were two coveted offices in the place: the Morris office, which overlooked Main Street, and the Lancaster office, which overlooked the town park. Rachel strode over to the receptionist, seated behind a huge desk.

“May I help you?” the girl asked.

“I’m here to see Bruce Lancaster. If he’s available,” Rachel added hastily.

“Do you have an appointment?” She had to be about twenty, Rachel decided, and already she had a wedding ring on her finger.

“No.” Gosh, she really was an idiot. “I’m Rachel Palladia. My grandmother owns Kim’s Diner. She’s a client here.” Rachel had no idea whose, but Lancaster and Morris had handled both her father’s and her grandfather’s estates.

“Mr. Lancaster is out of town for the next two weeks,” the receptionist said politely. “He and his wife—”

“Oh, yes, Christina. I didn’t attend their wedding, but my mother and grandmother went.” Rachel smiled helpfully. “Is she available?”

“No, she’s out of town, as well. I can see who else could meet with you, if you’d like. If no one is available today, I’d be more than happy to set up an appointment for some other time.”

Rachel sighed with frustration. She’d have better luck just walking next door this evening, bringing Reginald Morris an apple pie and asking for his advice after dinner. “No, that’s okay. I’ll take care of it.”

She turned and began the trek back across the marble floor, the rubber soles of her tennis shoes squeaking. She’d just reached the outer set of doors when one of them opened as if of its own volition. The motion threw her off balance, and she plowed right into the man walking in.

“Careful there,” he said, his bare hand catching her arm in an attempt to steady her. His wool overcoat slapped around his legs and his briefcase banged his knee. “Gotta look where you’re going,” he chastised her lightly.

“I was,” Rachel replied, her patience a tad on the thin side.

“As long as you’re okay,” he said. It was then that they both took a good look at each other. “Rachel?” the man said. “It is you.”

Colin Morris stood in front of her, blocking her escape. “Hi, Colin,” she replied.

He smiled. They were still in the vestibule, and he let the outer door close behind him with a thud. “It’s good to see you. I heard you were in town.” His blue eyes narrowed. “What are you doing here?”

“What, in town?” He hadn’t grown dense over the years, had he?

He frowned. “No. Here. Where I work.”

“Oh. I wanted to catch Bruce, but he’s away.”

“Yeah, his wife’s pregnant and soon she won’t be able to travel with Bella, her little girl. Christina and Bruce decided to visit her side of the family now, while she’s still mobile.

“So, you’re home for a while?” he asked conversationally.

“Yes. You know, I do come home occasionally. In fact, I was home this past Christmas,” she said, chafing. “I met Christina then. She came briefly into Kim’s to pick up some of my mom’s chicken salad. I’m in and out so quickly that I don’t have time to see everyone. Most of my friends are all married and busy with their own lives. I have managed to keep in touch with Heather.”

“Yeah, but not with me or Bruce. You didn’t attend his wedding. I thought I’d run into you there. We haven’t caught up in years.”

“I was in the Hamptons that weekend with a prior commitment.”

“Oh.” He arched his eyebrows disapprovingly, as if he found hobnobbing a poor excuse for missing a friend’s nuptials.

Rachel exhaled, blowing a strand of wind-tossed hair off her face. She didn’t want to get into any discussion with Colin here, in between doorways. The man had no right to judge her. She might be back in Morrisville, but the friendship they’d shared was long past. She was all grown-up now, and not so enamored with Colin’s playboy ways.

“It’s been great catching up, Colin, but I’ve really got to get back. Kim’s closes at three, but there’s always cleaning to do. I said I’d help.”

“You’re working there now?” he asked.

She gritted her teeth. “Temporarily. I have a few matters to take care of, which is why I came by to consult Bruce. I’ll just visit your dad tonight. Take him and your mom a pie.”

“He always had a sweet spot for you and your desserts,” Colin said with a laugh. When he grinned, the harsh angles of his face softened. He could frown and remain drop-dead attractive; smiling made him a heartthrob. Sadly, even after all the years away, Rachel found herself not immune. He had been her secret crush for so long. That had to be the reason she experienced a tingle in her toes and a shiver along her spine. The man was simply magnetic. Like Marco, Colin probably affected a lot of other women this way.

“So what do you want to talk to Dad about?” he asked, pushing the inner door open. “I’ve got some time and we’re blocking the exit. We need to either go one way or the other. Why don’t you tell me about it.”

“Really, I’m not going to be here in Morrisville that long and—”

He stopped, his foot holding open the lobby door. “Look, Rachel, if it’s something legal, my father has a pretty tight schedule for the next few weeks. He’s due in court two days from now as the defense counsel in what’s shaping up to be a huge and long trial. If you want some advice, I’ll help. We are still friends, aren’t we?”

She wavered. Friends. That was all they’d been until her heart had gotten in the way. Even afterward, the feelings had been one-sided. Hers.

Oh, she’d once made the mistake of thinking that he’d asked her out, but it had been only one of those “in passing” things that people say to be polite. She and Colin had snuck outside with a half-size bottle of pink champagne. The liquor had made her fuzzy, and they’d kissed, but that had been it. Nothing more.

The next day, life had returned to normal and she hadn’t needed a prom dress after all—at least, not until her senior year. By then, Colin and Bruce were college sophomores at Indiana University. The girl next door could never compete with the sophisticated girls the two dated. After her high-school graduation, Rachel had turned her back on Morrisville and headed east.

“Are you coming?” Colin asked.

Rachel stared at him. Same blond hair, blue eyes. Same sexy-as-all-get-out grin. But she was older. Wiser. Colin no longer meant anything to her. All she wanted was her recipes and Marco Alessandro put in his place. Bruce wasn’t available, and Colin could help her. She’d at least listen to what the man had to say. That didn’t cost a thing.

AS COLIN PUSHED the elevator button for the third floor, he remained extremely aware of Rachel. Even though they hadn’t spoken walking across the lobby, he’d sensed exactly where she was behind him. He’d heard during a partner meeting yesterday that she’d returned—gossip in Morrisville traveled faster than lightning. Tongues had wagged about how Rachel had been engaged to some hotshot restaurateur in New York and she’d said good riddance to him.

“I’m down here,” he said as the elevator doors opened. His corner suite was on the Morris side of the building and had a bird’s-eye view of Main Street, including Kim’s Diner. Two years ago faulty wiring had caused the diner to burn to the ground, leaving little but a large pile of ashes. He’d expected Rachel to come home then, but she hadn’t. Thus he suspected there was more behind her current relocation. Colin hung up his jacket.

“Can I get that?” he asked.

“No, I’m fine,” Rachel said, removing her coat and sitting in the wingback chair across from his desk.

So she was still stubborn. That hadn’t changed.

“I like your office,” she said.

“Thanks,” he said politely, drinking in the changes to her appearance. Growing up, she’d always worn her hair in a bob. Now it had grown out to past her shoulders, and she’d swept her bangs off her face. The longer style suited her. She’d filled out nicely, as well, he noticed. The red, long-sleeved Henley fit like a glove.

“Do Bruce and Christina have offices up here, too?” Rachel asked, bringing her attention from the surroundings to him.

Always Bruce, Colin thought. Rachel’s hair was different, but her fascination with his friend hadn’t changed. Bruce would visit the Morris household and within five minutes Rachel would be knocking on the back door. Not that he or Bruce had minded. For years, she’d simply been one of the boys, but eventually they’d reached their teens and nature had interfered. Rachel had developed the biggest crush on Bruce.

Rather inconvenient, playing second fiddle. Only in college had Colin stepped out of Bruce’s shadow, at least with the ladies. As a lawyer, he’d never have the great legal mind his friend possessed, but Colin had made his peace with that and had carved out a decent career. Bruce actually had been passed over for a senior partnership when the firm had hired Christina, and now that Bruce had been promoted, Colin knew he was finally next in line.

“Their offices are in the south wing. The Lancaster end. So,” he said with a deliberate cough to clear his tight throat, “what’s going on?”

Rachel twisted around, the material of her sweater stretching tight. Colin swallowed and shifted. Darn, but this grown-up version of his childhood buddy had his libido roaring to life, and somehow his immediate reaction was profound and, darn it, uncomfortable. She wasn’t even sending him signals, and here he was, grateful that he was safely sitting behind his desk.

She removed a wadded-up envelope from her purse, leaned over the edge of his desk and pushed the paper toward him as if touching it had burned her fingertips. Bright red polish, Colin saw. She’d worn pale pink in the past, and he wondered if her toenails were the same shade of red.

“You probably heard I was engaged,” Rachel said, and he lifted his gaze to her brown eyes. That was a mistake. Anger mixed with hurt radiated there, and Colin had the immediate urge to kill the guy who had wronged her. He retrieved the envelope and removed its contents.

“Go on,” he prodded when she stopped speaking. “I’m listening and skimming this at the same time.”

“Airing this is awkward. Marco Alessandro, my ex-fiancé and former employer, is demanding my recipes. He says he’s going to sue me for them. He’s claiming they’re rightfully his. The bastard didn’t even give me the letter until after I refused to marry him. As if.”

Colin waited. Rachel had always been like a shadow. Present yet unnoticed. Her New York experience had her cursing, and as visible as the neon in Times Square. The change was mesmerizing and worth study.

“Sorry,” Rachel said with a dismissive wave. “My language has taken a turn for the gutter since leaving Morrisville. Both my mother and grandmother want to wash my mouth out, but I’m too big now for them to hold down. They’d try if they could, because my mother says I swear like a sailor. I’m working on it. I’ve just been so agitated lately.”

“It’s okay,” Colin said, smoothing out the demand letter and setting the legal missive aside. “I can understand. You said Marco was your fiancé.”

“Yes.”

“And you broke off the engagement,” he went on.

“Yes.”

He sat still and waited for her to elaborate. She held his gaze for a moment, blinked, then turned her head so she could study the bookcase. He didn’t think she was really interested in any of the legal titles shelved there. “Rachel,” he prompted. “You have to be honest with me. If I’m to help you, I’ve got to know everything.”

“I broke off my engagement because he, he…” Her entire body shook as she relived the horror of that moment. “I caught him.”

Experience had taught him patience. He waited.

She stared at him, her brown eyes imploring him not to make her do this. “Do I have to say it? Are you that much of a sadist? I caught him—in my bed—with another woman.”

Had Marco Alessandro been sitting in his office, Colin would have leaped across the desk and throttled the guy with his bare hands. How dare anyone do this to Rachel? The fact that he cared this much after all these years shook him a little. And unlike those wannabe black belts, Colin legitimately was one. He’d found martial-arts training a great way to stay fit and hone both his mind and body.

Lawyers weren’t supposed to be emotionally involved, but they could be empathetic. “I’m sorry,” he said finally.

“Thank you,” Rachel replied, the quiver of her jaw almost unnoticeable. “I have bills to pay from the canceled wedding. I returned the ring. He’s not getting any more of my future. Those were my grandmother’s recipes before I got them. Sure, I modified them using the restaurant’s kitchen, but that doesn’t mean he can take them. I need those. If I’m ever going to open my own place.”

“I’ll take the case,” Colin said. “If he’s serious about taking you to court, we may have to pull in a co-counsel licensed in New York, but your situation won’t escalate that far.”

He didn’t know that for certain, but he had a strong suspicion. He’d never really wanted to be a lawyer and hadn’t passed the bar exam with a high score, but once Colin had embraced the family profession, he had discovered that he could help people solve their problems. He’d become good at reading people and finding their weakness.

“Men like Marco Alessandro are often simply big bullies who expect the weak to roll over and give them what they want,” he told her.

“What he really wants is to marry me and avoid the scandal,” Rachel said, twisting her hands together in her lap.

Colin couldn’t help himself. An incredulous expression registered on his face. “Is the man nuts?”

He realized his mistake the moment the words passed his lips. “Oh, Rachel. I didn’t mean…I’m sorry.” He’d meant the scandal part being crazy. This wasn’t the Regency era. People dissolved their relationships all the time.

But his apology was too late. Her features contorted and her skin whitened. Oh, she wouldn’t. He hated tears. The Rachel of old would chew off her finger before she’d ever let him see her cry.

As her tears fell, Colin suddenly realized that perhaps he’d never known the woman sitting across from him at all.

SHE WAS CRYING. Sobbing, actually. She’d gone through at least three tissues—she figured having a box around was standard procedure in a legal office—and she was about to go through her fourth as she blew her nose and sounded like a deranged goose.

Why did she have to break down here of all places? Sure she’d cried. But in private. When she’d called her good friends, she’d been tough and unyielding. She’d swallowed her pride and moved home, dealing with the endless pity and sympathy of both her family and townsfolk. Poor Rachel. How terrible a thing to have happened to her. Through it all, she’d held her head high.

Until Colin Morris. He was as insensitive as ever. And darn him, he was the only one who’d pierced the armor shielding her bruised dignity and wounded dreams.

He’d moved around his desk and squatted on the floor beside her. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I meant the scandal. Not marrying you. Of course any man would want to marry you.”

“Yeah, which is why he was sleeping around!” Rachel shouted, needing to vent. “Do you know what that’s like? Finding out that everything you believed to be true is a big fat lie? That you aren’t good enough? Never were? That while you thought you had passion, it obviously wasn’t enough to keep a man from straying? You wouldn’t understand. You’re never in a relationship long enough to have your heart smashed into smithereens.”

“I’ll do what I can to help,” Colin promised. He placed his hand reassuringly on her jean-covered thigh. “You’ll get through this. You’re one of the bravest and toughest people I know.”

“Ha!” She sniffled. “That’s why I fell apart here. I don’t see you for years and first thing I do is bawl my eyes out and sob like a freak. This is why I wanted to see Bruce.”

Colin straightened, placing some distance between Rachel and him. “He’s not available—I am. Do you want me to handle this for you or not?”

She sniffled again, frowned at his abrupt change in tone and stared at him through what had to be red eyes. “You already know everything. You might as well take the case on. How much will it cost? I’ll be honest. I’m close to broke. All my savings went to paying my credit cards. I’ve put the jewelry Marco gave me in a safe-deposit box just in case he starts demanding that back.”

“I’ll talk to my father and get back to you about the fees. You’re practically family to him, so I’m sure it won’t be much. Don’t stress over fees. Let me work up a response to this demand letter. Do you have copies of all the expenses you incurred preparing for your wedding?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“I’ll need those,” Colin said.

Rachel shifted. She’d never viewed the professional, go-get-them persona of her former next-door neighbor. She found the change fascinating. Colin was assured and confident, a man in control. He had a plan, which was more than she could say. All she’d really done was move home. Everything else she’d put on hold until she got this straightened out. “Okay, but can I ask why?”

“Absolutely. Anytime you have a question or comment you have to speak up. That’s important if we’re going to get the results we want. The way I see it, engagements are oral contracts. He promised to be faithful and marry you. He broke that contract. You have the right to demand that he compensate you for your mental anguish and your expenses.”

“That’s legal?” she asked. “There’s a law regulating fidelity?”

Colin smiled. “A lot of legal maneuvering is just strategy. He demands—we demand. We negotiate a truce. If he’s so worried about scandal, I doubt he wants to take this to court, where one, the suit becomes public record, and two, he risks getting an unfavorable judge, one who might have had her husband cheat on her, or a boyfriend on her daughter, or something like that.”