All Fired Up (Kate Meader) (34 page)

Under the warm rays of the early morning June sun, Shane walked the few blocks over to Jack’s house. It didn’t look so welcoming this time round and Shane felt like more of an interloper than ever. Lili answered, her face brightening on seeing him. Damn. If she was here that meant—

“Shane,” she said, warmth shining off her as she pulled him inside.

“I thought you were going for the final dress fittings with Cara.”

Shane had already texted Jack to say he was on his way over. Cara was supposed to be out with Lili and an audience was the last thing he needed. From the kitchen, he heard soft murmuring and baby talk. He told himself it was Jules cooing at Evan but his body knew his woman’s sweet nothings.

Lili’s eyes flashed mischievously. “We were, but we got delayed. I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Is Jack still pissed off?” he asked, holding back in the hallway, needing to get a heads-up on his brother’s frame of mind.

She smiled, but her eyes held trouble. “He doesn’t like when people take advantage. Back in his fame days, he went through a lot of that and this Napier guy practically blackmailing him—well, that’s got him pretty annoyed.” She shook her head, realizing how that might sound. “But it wasn’t your fault, Shane. You just got caught up in it.”

Just got caught up in it.
Cara, Jack, all this love and family he craved like a drug. He strode into the kitchen to find Cara feeding a bottle to Evan. She turned to him, those blue eyes wide with joy.
This.
This was what he wanted and it was time to man up and take it.

“Hey,” he said around the rock of emotion in his throat. He kissed her on the forehead because anything more passionate rang inappropriate while she was cradling an infant. Once, he might have been ready to bang her in the grounds of a church but even he had his limits.

“Hi, Shane,” he heard Jules behind him. He hadn’t even seen her when he came in, so blown away was he by Cara. They had spent the rest of the night exploring and branding each other. That rule she had about not putting in her mouth anything she didn’t know the full calorie count for? Broken. Time and time again.

“Jack’s just finishing up a conference call with London and New York,” Lili said, slicing through his love-lust fog. “In the meantime, we have something to show you.”

She gestured to a sheaf of papers on the kitchen island. As he drew closer, it dawned on him that they were the galleys for the cookbook. His heart rate sped up.

“May I?” he asked, his fingers itching to touch them. To see his recipe in print.

“Of course,” Cara said, standing to meet him, her arms now infant-free.

Stifling his tremble, he flipped the pages through recipes for gnocchi and veal meatballs, duck confit and zin-braised short rib. The desserts would be listed at the back but it seemed rude to skip straight to them, like ripping apart the packaging on a birthday gift before you’d done the polite thing and opened the card first.

He could feel his girl’s warmth at his side, her scent almost overwhelming him and sending him to his knees. Finally, he reached it—the last one!—and let his eyes drink in the gorgeous sight. The image was so real, so lifelike, that the taste of chocolate filled his mouth and he felt the silky slide down his throat. At the end of the recipe, a line proclaimed him the creator in small text. Absolutely brilliant.

“Photo came out well,” he said past his tightening throat.

Cara slipped her hand into his. “Look at the last page.”

Ah, this wasn’t the last page after all. He turned it over to reveal the cover in full, saturated color.
Learning Italian: Lessons in Family and Food,
by Jack Kilroy and Tony DeLuca. He swallowed hard. With Shane Doyle.

Holy shit.

“My name’s on the cover.” He looked at Cara. “But it’s only one recipe.”

Her smile was the slyest, sexiest thing he’d ever seen. “But it’s the best recipe.”

“What do you think?” Jack’s deep voice intoned behind him.

Shane turned to face up to his future. “I’m chuffed, but you didn’t have to do this.”

Jack’s lips thinned to invisibility. “I know.”

Cara had done this. She had persuaded Jack to add his name. The air snapped with tension, evidently palpable, judging by the significant looks exchanged by Lili and Cara.

“How’s my favorite French sex bomb?” Lili asked, her arm circling Jack’s waist.

“Laurent says
bonjour
. He’s still claiming you made a terrible mistake by choosing me and he’s planning to object at the appropriate time in the church.”

Lili’s eyes glittered. “It’ll be too late by then.”

One of those special glances passed between them. “Yes, it will.” He turned to Shane, face as hard as the granite countertops. “What’s on your mind?”

“I’d like a word.”

With a short nod, Jack grabbed a couple of beers from the fridge and headed out back. Shane considered whispering to Cara that he loved her, just so he could draw strength from her smile, but it would be a jinx. He followed his brother onto the large wooden deck ringing the back of the house in an L-shape. Steps led to a green expanse, intercut with paving stones, wild grasses, and low-lying border plants. It was more unkempt than Shane would have expected.

As if picking up on Shane’s thoughts, Jack said, “Jules spends a lot of time out here. She’s planting an organic vegetable garden.” He pointed at the corner where green leaves sprouted above the topsoil. Looked like cabbages, carrots, and an assortment of herbs.

Jack handed off the beer. “You here to ask for your job back?”

“Nope.”

“You here to apologize?”

“Not on your life.”

His brother laughed, long and rich. “You’ve got a pair of brass ones, Shane. I’ll give you that.” He took a swig of his beer. “Listen, I’m sorry about last night. I was pissed about Napier and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. Defending Cara was a good move and I was just hacked off at the outcome.”

“I suppose I should have thought first, but the guy made me see red.”

“Guys like that always do.” He smiled, a return to his usual good-humored self. “So we’re good?”

“I need to talk to you about something else.”

Jack’s face fell. “Shit, you’re quitting on me for real, aren’t you? Look, let me explain what I meant about not wanting you to work at Sarriette. You don’t seem to stay long at any one job, and initially, I didn’t want the hassle, but—” He fanned his hand on the deck railing. “You want to know why I took you on, Shane?”

Shane nodded. He wanted to know more than anything.

“It wasn’t because of your big award or the fact that you seemed to have a bee up your arse about working in Chicago. About six months ago, I visited Thyme one night for dinner with Lili. Although I’m still technically an investor, it belongs to Laurent now, so I don’t feel right walking into the kitchen, especially when he’s not there. The server said you were off that night but if you had been on, I would have waltzed right in and told you that your pear-almond crostata was the best dessert I had ever eaten. I knew I had to have you on my team in Chicago as soon as there was an opening. So if I’ve given you any doubt that you’re welcome at Sarriette, then I apologize.”

Shane took a draught of his beer and battled to get his emotions under leash. “I appreciate that. I’m not here to quit—again—but after what I tell you, you might change your mind about wanting me on your team.”

He placed his beer down on the patio table and drew in the deepest breath he’d ever pulled. Maybe he could get it out in one snatch because if he had to breathe again, he might not remember how.

“You know how I’ve always wanted to work with you?”

Jack’s lips curled up. His brother had a vain streak and since not being the center of attention, he enjoyed hearing that people admired him. A guy of Jack’s talent and stature should get sick of the adulation but Shane suspected he fed off it.

“Well, there’s a bit more to it. You see, we have a history. You and me.”

Jack delivered a slow nod like he was trying to comprehend. “All right.”

“Once you asked me where I grew up. I wasn’t entirely honest. I’m actually from Quilty.”

“You mean where my mother came from?” He had Jack’s complete attention now.

“Yeah, your mother. And your father.”

“Did your family know my mother?” Jack’s gaze drew to curious slits, and Shane imagined that quick brain working overtime, connecting dots, drawing conclusions. “Or my father?” He said this more slowly and with an unmistakable hard edge.

“Actually, it’s simpler than that,” Shane said. Simpler? He was only trying to explain the most difficult thing he’d ever had to say. His mouth felt like an ash pit. “Your father is also my father. We’re brothers.”

Jack stared back, his thoughts working circles around his face, figuring it out. “You’re John Sullivan’s son?”

Now it was Shane’s turn for the slow nod. He wanted to close his eyes, but he didn’t want to miss this.

Jack’s grip tightened on the beer bottle so hard Shane worried it might be crushed. A deathly pallor had descended over his face, appropriate considering he had just seen a ghost.

“I know this is a shock,” Shane said, “and I expect you have a lot of questions.”

“Yeah, I’ve plenty of questions.” But he went silent instead of putting voice to anything. Silent Jack was never a good omen.

A few taut moments ticked by, and it occurred to Shane that perhaps Jack didn’t buy his story. “I have proof. Documentation.”

“I believe you,” Jack barked, then clamped his mouth shut once more. More pained seconds passed.
Fuck, bro, say something.

“Is everything okay?” Lili called out, drawn by Jack’s raised voice. She peeked her head around the door.

“Fine,” Jack said in a voice so tight it could smother.

Lili stepped onto the deck, alarm on her face. “What’s going on?” She touched Jack’s arm and her eyes widened.

No one spoke a word.

“Someone needs to tell me what’s going on right now,” Lili said.

“Lili, go back inside,” Jack said, his raw stare never leaving Shane’s face.

She turned to Shane. “Shane, what’s going on?”

It should be Jack’s news to give but the connection was just as much Shane’s. After running from it for so long, he needed to claim it fully even if his brother wasn’t ready to share.

“Jack…he’s my brother. By blood.” He added that last bit in case there was any confusion that this was some sort of weird bromance thing.

Lili wrinkled her nose. Shane watched Jack and all he could see was an unscaleable cliff face. All he could see was the only person who mattered right now.

Her startled gaze ping-ponged between the two of them before landing on Shane. “This is for real.”

Shane nodded.

“What do you want?” Jack asked, his eyes fixed and flat. “Or should I say how much do you want?”

Lili gasped. “Jack!”

“Well, that’s what this is about, isn’t? Did your father send you?”

“He’s dead.”

“Good.”

Man, that was cold. “I didn’t come here expecting anything. I was just curious to find out more about you.”

“So you sneaked around, getting me to trust you. To like you.”

Yes, a million times yes.
“I know it looks bad—”

“It looks like you’re a chip off the old block. That’s how it looks.”

“Jack, listen to him.” Lili placed a hand on his arm and he shook it off.

“When I think of everything I did for you. A job, a home, the book.”

Fury raged through Shane like a monsoon. “I earned all those things. You didn’t know shit about me except for my skills and I got every single one of those things under my own steam. You weren’t around and I managed just fine on my own.”

A muscle throbbed in Jack’s jaw. He’d never admit Shane was right, no matter what Shane said. His mouth worked to form his next argument, and Shane braced himself for another rash of accusation.

“What about Cara? Is that why you’ve been all over her? Another way to insinuate your way into my life?”

“Cara has nothing to do with this.”

Jack’s mouth curled up in a sneer. “She doesn’t? Yeah, you got a job in my kitchen because you’re good, but she’s done nothing but sing your praises since you got here. Telling me I should use you for the cookbook. I should invest in your business. You’re a lot more subtle than your old man. I might have respected you more if you actually asked me outright instead of getting a woman to work favors for you.”

“Jack, calm down,” Lili said.

“That’s not how it happened,” Shane said, his voice rising with his pulse. Blood hammered in his eardrums. “I didn’t ask Cara to do a thing for me. Funny how everything boils down to how it affects you. You’re not much different from dear old Dad in that respect.”

Jack’s expression was thunderous, not unlike their father in a rage.

“Well, you’ll be happy to know that in his final days, you were all he cared about,” Shane choked out. “All he wanted was your forgiveness. So you win, Jack. You win everything.”

The force of that last speech ripped holes in Shane’s chest. He slumped against the railing, all his life force ebbing away.

Jack stepped back, scrubbing a hand across his mouth. “I’m done here. And you’re done in my kitchen. In my building. In this town.” He stalked off into the house.

Lili threw Shane a helpless look and touched his arm gently. “Shane, stay here. He just needs to calm down.” She took off in pursuit of his brother.

That arrogant, fucking prick.

Coming in, this was exactly what Shane had expected, wasn’t it? Big-man Jack Kilroy would get in a big-man snit and would only see how it affected him. Another Doyle with his hand out. The consummate user, the man on a mission to take. Letting himself get close to Jack had been his undoing because a man with an ego as big as all outdoors didn’t have room for anyone else, especially the son of the man he hated.

He had to leave because Jack was right about one thing. Shane was done.

Going back through the house was not an option, so he stomped through the side gate that led to the street of two-million-dollar properties and suburbia in the city.

“Is it true?” Cara’s tight voice shimmered on the warm air. He turned to find her teary-eyed and vulnerable, all color drained from her face.

He shrugged and barely registered that his shoulder was acting up again. “Yeah, it’s true. He’s my brother.”

“No, is it true that it’s been all about Jack?”

A hot mass of rage burned in his chest. Yes, this had been all about Jack. That British streak of shite always managed to make it all about him.

When he didn’t answer—when he couldn’t answer—she asked, “When did you find out?”

At whatever she saw on his face, her mouth fell open. “You knew all along. When we met, you knew and…oh God, you married me.” The last couple of words were barely audible above the strangled sob caught in her throat.

“I can’t talk about this now.”

A flash of heat fired across her face. “Oh, you can’t? Well, I want to talk about how you used me to get closer to Jack. Is that why you married me?”

The pain in his chest sang sharp. He knew his next words could only come out harsh but he didn’t care. He was done. Done with the whole lot of them.

“Cara, it’s not always about you. There are bigger things at stake here.”

“Bigger than being married? Bigger than being in—” Her mouth clenched shut.
Bigger than being in love?
That’s what she was going to say.

“For God’s sake, Cara, call your lawyer. We’re not even married anymore. I gave you exactly what you wanted.”

Her lovely lips formed an
O
and color lit high on her cheekbones. It was cruel but right now, he hated himself more than he loved her.

She straightened like she was picking herself up, a mental hitch of her pants. Under any other circumstances, he’d be admiring the hell out of her but his rage was all-encompassing. His bitterness was too important.

“Good luck, Shane. I hope you get all you want.”

And with a click-clack of those killer heels, she was gone.

Chapter 19

Fuchsia, cerise, magenta.

Moss, teal, celadon.

Luxurious fabrics in dazzling hues cocooned Cara as she sat lotus style on the floor of her favorite space, her walk-in closet. An ode to her successful recovery. Her sanctuary.

What else could she ever need? Cara didn’t do relationships. She didn’t do people. She was cool, in charge, Lemon Tart.

Bullshit.

What could be gained by staying married?
she had asked Shane that day in her office all those weeks ago.
The marriage you wanted, Cara.
And yes, she had wanted. Somehow he had seen her desperation and the jealousy of Gina that shaded every joke about her bridezilla cousin. He had seen it and figured out a way to use it for his advantage.

He needed to stay close to Jack, to burrow his way into her big Italian family, and Cara had shot her arm in the air and screamed,
Me, me, me!
As if she were back in school, craving approval from her teachers. So desperate for a man to love her, she had fallen hook, line, and blinkers for this man. The worst man.

On the way home from Jack and Lili’s, she had called her lawyer and pulled him out of his golf game. Marty confirmed the annulment would be forthcoming any day now. The delivery of the papers coincided with the day she and Shane visited the children’s hospital together. Which was also not long after she had suggested to Jack that he think about investing in Shane’s business and wouldn’t that Bella Donna recipe make a nice close to the cookbook? When she was finally of no use, he had cast their marriage aside and given her what she wanted from the start.

Her independence.

Now she was solo in her closet, back to square one, as the fabric-plush walls enveloped her. Negative square one, really, because she was about to be bad. Terribly bad.

She didn’t even like Sara Lee. When you’ve worked with top chefs like Jack Kilroy—when an award-winning pastry chef like Shane fucking Doyle is inspired by you to create a decadent dessert—your palate has a hard time going back to the rough stuff. But the grocery store two blocks away only had Sara Lee carrot cake, so needs must.

And oh, how she needed.

She needed to get it back. The control, the numbness, whatever it would take to move her through this pain.

With trembling hands, she opened the box. Twenty-one servings, three hundred and ten calories apiece according to the nutritional information. More numbers to define her. She sliced a fork through the clean frosting until it met resistance from the semifrozen cake beneath, then drove through to the bottom and scooped it up. Carefully, she slipped it past her lips and chewed.

Hmm, not bad. Sara Lee must have improved the recipe since the last time she had tried it. She swallowed and didn’t even wait the requisite twenty seconds before going in for the next bite. That was the strategy she used to slow down her eating so her brain would get the message she was full, but she didn’t need that now. Today’s strategy was chain eating. Just shovel it in, chunk by desperate chunk.

Two minutes later, a quarter of it was gone. Five servings, over fifteen hundred calories. Blinking in shock, she raked her fingers through her hair.
Sticky fingers.
Her hands…
good God
…her hands were covered in cake and frosting. Spongey fragments studded her hair. Apparently she had abandoned the fork and started pawing the cake into her mouth. Apparently it had taken her just one hundred and twenty seconds to turn into an animal.

Her vision blurred and a sob escaped her throat, but the pain still clawed sharply at her chest. More, more, more. Only more could make her feel less.

With every morsel, she ingested the hurt, longing for the moment when detachment took over. Desperate to disengage, to get to that place inside herself when she would become invisible, where no one could see her. Her organs should be ossifying by now, her lungs collapsing, her heart turning to marble, but still she could feel.

The fabrics pressed in on her. Form-fitting skirts, arranged like colorful file folders, cataloged her failure. Exquisite blouses scorned her as she choked down another mouthful. Her body, this weak amalgam of flesh and bone and blood, had been her project for so long, and these gorgeous costumes had been her reward. What good were they now? Just pretty packaging for an ugly shell of a woman. Unmistakable evidence of overinvestment in the depleting asset of her body.

The lifestyle you ordered is no longer in stock.

In her haste to get more cake into her mouth, a clump of cream cheese frosting landed on her Betsy Johnson blouse, the coral silk top Shane had hung with such care. Her usual instinct would have been to grab a wet cloth, but her instincts were worth shit these days. Her instincts had lied, led her to trust, fooled her to love.

Standing like a sugar-dazed drunk, she fingered the blob of frosting and smeared it into the delicate material. An electric shock sizzled through her.
Ah, yes.

Gratification.

That cream BCBG skirt, the one she found on sale at Nordstrom?
Smear and smush.
Her favorite Marc Jacobs blouse with the pearlescent buttons?
Rip those suckers off.
And when the initial assault didn’t satisfy her bloodlust, she rent it seam from seam. Those lethal feet, her kickboxing weapons, had nothing on her killer hands. She shredded and tore and destroyed with claws like Freddy Krueger.

Only beautiful people deserved beautiful things.

It still wasn’t enough. Frantically, she sought out new targets for her self-disgust. On the highest shelf, a shopping bag lay tucked away, minding its own business.

Leave it alone.

But it called to her like she was the dumb blonde drawn by a strange noise in the basement, except this was worse because she knew exactly what she would find. Exactly what she needed to take this self-pity fest to the
n
th degree.

Unlike the strong palette of her glamorous wardrobe, the outfits in the bag were all watercolor pastels: powder blue, candy pink, lemon chiffon, mint green. The cutest sailor outfit you ever saw, a dress for a baby princess, onesies with detachable booties. Items she couldn’t resist on her shopping trips, those rare times when hope had triumphed over fear for a few crazy moments.

She’d even bought an “I ♥ the Cubs” T-shirt for the little slugger of her dreams. It had beckoned to her heart from the window of one of those tawdry souvenir shops on Michigan Avenue near the Art Institute. Now, the sight of it folded her in half with pain and brought renewed tears to her eyes.

The gap between can and should was so wide Cara wondered how she’d ever had the nerve to dream. Her, a mother? What if she passed all her weird behaviors on to her kid? What if she couldn’t feed him because she freaked out at the sight of baby food or started worrying that her toddler had put on too much weight? Shane would have been the check on her crazy.
Do you want to have a baby with me some day?
Why would he say that if he didn’t mean it?

It was too, too cruel.

Her beautiful sister, Lili, with motherhood stamped all over her ample curves, would have a bouncing, bonny baby soon, and Cara would be the best aunt in the universe. She already had gifts.

Her gut churned, the battleground of her body fighting the agony and the cake. Nausea flooded her mouth. She was going to be…She stumbled to the bathroom and made it just in time. With every retch, she puked away her hurt until the numbness took over.
Finally.
Relief that her body had made the decision for her washed over her, but she knew if it hadn’t, she would have forced the issue anyway.

Old Cara would have taken charge and purged the pain the best way she knew how.

*  *  *

She had no clue how long she spent getting acquainted with the cool bathroom tile floor, but staying in this pitiful heap forever was not an option. On noodle legs, she pulled herself to a stand, washed her face, and brushed her teeth.
What now?
Go somewhere, anywhere, get away from Chicago. Hide out until Jack and Lili’s wedding in less than two weeks.

As she extracted her suitcase from under the bed, a knock on her front door startled her. She went as still as a statue. Maybe if she stopped breathing, he wouldn’t know she was here.

“Cara, open up. It’s Lili.”

Her heart sank. She tried to convince herself disappointment felt close to relief that her sister stood on the other side and not her…What the hell should she call him now? Her ex-husband? Former lover? Rat bastard?

Yeah, rat bastard had a nice ring to it.

In the mirror on her closet door, she blinked at her reflection. Pale, tear streaked, a touch unglued. So no change, then. She pinched her cheeks, drawing color that made her look like a sad old clown.

Deep breaths.
She had been burying her shit for years, so she had this. She opened the door to the concerned faces of Lili and Jules.

“Did you find Shane?” her sister asked.

“What?”

Lili frowned. “You ran out of the house so quickly, I assumed you were going after…You’ve been crying!” She grasped Cara’s arms and got up close and personal. “What’s happened?”