Close to You (9 page)

Not wanting the customers to see, she
made Allison crouch behind the counter to look inside the bag.
“It’s awesome on,” she whispered.

“
I can tell,” Allison
whispered back, touching the satin. “Which one are you wearing
tonight?”

“
I don’t know. Maybe the
bustier.”

“
Your man is going to
swallow his tongue when he sees you in it.”

“
He’s not going to see me
in this tonight.” At Allison’s disbelieving look, she amended her
statement with, “Probably not.”

“
Keep telling yourself
that.” Her barista frowned. “Why are we whispering?”

“
We didn’t want to attract
attention.”

“
Right. Hiding behind the
counter and whispering isn’t suspicious at all.”

At noon, Eve reluctantly went across
the street to confront the ice queen who ran the
teashop.

The store was open, so Eve walked in
for the first time ever, wanting to scope out her competition.
There were a few tables already filled, not surprisingly with
women. Quaint, she decided, taking in the doilies and Victorian
furnishings. Perfect for a teahouse, not so fitting for Daniela
Rossi. Surprising that Carmen would consider this place. It had a
different feel than Daniela’s casual modern style.

She felt a prickling up the back of
her neck. Turning around she saw the owner, Margaret, headed toward
her.

She didn’t look happy.

She
did
look imposing. She was already
tall, but she had on Ferragamo pumps and her hair was piled into a
twist that added to her stature. She wore a Chanel-type suit and
was fingering the luxurious strand of pearls around her
neck.

“
Can I help you?” the woman
asked coldly, looking down her nose.

Eve mentally girded herself and pasted
a smile on her face. Honey, not vinegar. “We met last week. I own
Grounds for Thought?”

The ice queen didn’t even
blink.

She cleared her throat. “I understand
you’re bidding to have Daniela Rossi’s cookbook launch party
here.”

Margaret simply raised her
brow.

Eve pictured a grudge match between
this woman and her father. Normally she’d have bet on her dad, but
Margaret was scary. “You know that I’m also in the pool to host the
party, right?”

“
Your point?”

“
Well, first you were
passing out flyers practically in the doorway to my café, and then
this. It seems like there’s something more going on, and I wanted
to get it out in the open and maybe work through it.”

Margaret’s back stiffened even more
and her expression chilled, if that was possible. “Are you accusing
me of something?”

“
Should I accuse you of
anything? It’s awfully coincidental, but I don’t know why you’d
have it out for me. Our businesses don’t compete.”

Something in the woman’s face
shifted.

“
That’s it, isn’t it?” Eve
blinked in surprise. “You think Grounds for Thought is competition,
but it’s not. My place is completely different than this. I’m sure
there’s plenty of business for both of us.”

“
And in the same vein, I’m
sure Ms. Rossi will pick the venue best suited to her event,” the
older woman said coolly, her grip tight on her necklace. “Now if
you’ll excuse me, I have to work.”

She shook her head. “I’m not
done—”

“
I am,” Margaret said. Then
she turned her back and strode away.

Eve stood there, mouth gaping. What
just happened?

One thing was certain: she may have
denied it, but Margaret was up to something. Eve would have bet her
café on it. But why? As far as she knew, she’d never done anything
to threaten the woman’s teahouse.

She watched Margaret stop at a table
to greet her customers. Her smile was aloof. Looking closely, there
was a bit of sadness there too.

Eve shook her head and as left. She
wasn’t going to feel sympathy for the woman. This was war, and the
final battle was Daniela Rossi’s event.

Chin high, she headed back to her
shop, each step clacking with purpose. This war she was going to
win.

Chapter Twelve

Her doorbell buzzed right at
seven-thirty.

Eve took a deep breath and tried to
set the day aside. She wore the bustier under her strapless dress,
and she knew she looked fabulous. She was going to have a great
time and no one—not even that Crumpet woman—was going to
contaminate her evening.

Grabbing her wrap, she went downstairs
to meet him.

Treat leaned against the building,
arms crossed. It surprised her that instead of his usual leather
jacket he wore a sports coat and a fancy shirt. His hair was pulled
back like usual, but he wore dressy shoes.

His eyes lit up when he saw her.
Without a word, he lifted her chin and kissed her.

Whatever tension she had faded the
moment his lips touched hers. The frustration and anger she’d been
carrying all day dissipated, and she melted against him.

He smiled. “You look
amazing.”

She ran a hand down her shimmery blue
dress. The bustier underneath was the real shining star. “I wasn’t
sure if it was too dressy.”

“
It’s perfect.” He made a
gimme motion with his fingers. “Let me see the shoes.”

She held her foot out so he could see
the silver strappy heels she wore. “Good?”

“
Better than good.” Leaning
in he kissed her softly on the lips and then took her arm. “Those
are dancing shoes.”

He guided her to a sleek Mercedes
sports coupe parked in front of the café. It was sexy and powerful
and surprising, just like him. She ran her hands over the leather,
wanting to do the same to him.

Crazy, the way he affected her. Ten
seconds in his presence and she’d forgotten the frustration of the
day, brought on by that horrible tea woman. “You’re like Prozac,”
she said when he got in the car.

He chuckled as he buckled up. “Is that
a good thing?”

“
Yes. A few minutes with
you and I’m in a happy place, the day forgotten.”

He pulled onto the street and then
took her hand in his. “Did you have a bad day?”

“
Not a great one.” She
frowned. “I wasn’t going to taint our date with it.”

“
You can always tell me if
something is bothering you.”

Usually she told Freya. She and Freya
had been friends forever—since they were kids—but Freya was,
understandably, busy with her family lately. Not that she wouldn’t
listen, but Eve was loath to bother her.

Treat squeezed her hand. “Tell
me.”

“
It’s one of the shop
owners on the street,” she said quickly. “It’s stupid really. She
denies it, but I think she has it out for me. She keeps doing
things to undermine my business.”

“
What sort of things?” he
asked with a slight frown.

“
Like she passed out flyers
for her shop in front of my store, and she’s vying to get the big
event I’ve been planning on hosting.”

“
Event?” His frown
deepened. “Which store is this?”

“
Crumpet. It’s a teahouse
on the other side of the street.”

“
I know of it.” He became
silent, as though he was thinking.

“
I may be crazy but I have
the feeling she’s behind those bad Yelp reviews as well.” She
wrinkled her nose. “I’m sure I’m overreacting.”

“
Maybe,” he said, looking
endearingly disturbed for her.

“
It’s just that the owner
is impossible. She drives me crazy.”

“
Tell me about it,” he
muttered.

“
What?” she asked, not
understanding.

“
Nothing.” He glanced at
her. “Tonight you won’t think about her, or your café. It’s just
you and me.”

Under other circumstances, she would
have told him that was impossible. Grounds for Thought was her
baby, and her baby was in danger. But with him, for tonight, she
could let it go. Nodding, she relaxed against the plush
seat.

He drove expertly through the city, up
Sacramento and to Fillmore. She watched the neighborhood grow
sketchy as they crossed the invisible boundary out of Pacific
Heights. Before she could ask where they were going, he pulled into
a parking space and got out of the car.

She followed, looking around. “Are we
going to karaoke?”

“
No.” He glanced over at
her before returning his eyes to the road. “Do you want
to?”

“
I just thought that was
likely, given the neighborhood we’re in. It’s either that, or we’re
going to score drugs or have bubble tea.”

He laughed and the sound made her
smile. “None of those things are in our plans for this
evening.”

“
Maybe next time,” she said
as he parked. She slid out, wrapping herself with her shawl against
a cold San Francisco breeze.

“
This way.” Taking her
hand, he led her across the street and into a dark doorway lit by
one red light. He opened the door for her to enter.

She walked in, immediately welcomed by
warm, bluesy jazz and the chatter of people enjoying
themselves.

Treat put his hand on the small of her
back and nodded to the end of the bar. “Let’s take those
seats.”

As distracted as she was by the heat
of his palm, he could have suggested doing a jig on the bar and she
would have considered it.

She perched on the stool, hanging her
coat on a hook under the bar top. The music was catchy, and her
foot tapped in time with it. “I didn’t know this place was
here.”

“
It’s fairly
new.”

“
Treat Byrnes.”

A towering dark man in a three-piece
suit came up to them, a broad smile lighting his face. He clapped
Treat on the shoulder and then gave him a brief man hug. “It’s been
a long time. And who did you bring me, Treat?”

Treat grinned as he took
her arm. “I didn’t bring
you
anyone, but let me introduce you to
my
date, Eve. Eve, this
rogue is Carlton. He owns Speakeasy.”

Eve held her hand out. “I’ve never met
a rogue before.

“
I’m glad I’m your first.”
Carlton lifted it to his lips and kissed his own knuckles. Then he
gave her what she imagined was his signature smile before clapping
Treat on the shoulder again. “The usual?”

“
Of course.”

Winking at her, the man went around
the bar and signaled the bartender. After a brief discussion, the
bartender nodded and Carlton gave Treat an “okay” sign.

“
Do you have a usual
drink?” she asked as she settled on a barstool.

“
I usually drink whiskey,
but here it’s whatever Carlton decides to serve me.”

“
How do you know
him?”

“
He was a friend of my
dad’s. He owned a club in Oakland back then, and my parents used to
go there for dates, right up to the day he died.” Treat’s smile
saddened. “My dad used to say my mom was a goddess, but never more
so than when she was dancing.”

She put her hand on his. “I’m
sorry.”

He shook his head. “My dad lived out
loud. He’d have been the first one to scold anyone who mourned him.
The real tragedy is my mother.”

“
How so?”

His expression clouded, walling up so
she couldn’t read what was behind his eyes. “She used to be a
vibrant woman, going out and doing things. Her laugh was amazing. I
haven’t heard her laugh since he died. You would have liked her
back then,” he said with a cryptic look.

“
Your father sounded
great,” she said wistfully.

“
You say that like you
don’t get along with yours.”

She made a face. “We get along, as
long as he’s in charge.”

“
You don’t seem like the
kind of woman who’d let someone else be in charge of
you.”

“
I’m not, but he doesn’t
get that.”

Their drinks arrived, a champagne
cocktail for her and something dark in a tumbler for him. He lifted
his glass. “To parents. Can’t live with them—”

“
Wouldn’t be alive without
them,” she finished.

He laughed as they touched
glasses.

Little appetizers came out one-by-one,
each one more delicious than the next. Or maybe the company that
made the food so great. Treat leaned close to her, asking her about
her former life as a marketing director and telling her stories
about his construction company.

Finally, Eve had to give up. “Enough.
If I eat more I’ll burst out of my dress.”

He seemed to think about that as his
eyes swept over her body. “I’m torn about that.”

“
How so?”

“
On one hand, I’d love to
see what’s under the dress.”

She nodded. He’d be especially keen if
he knew about the bustier. “And the other hand?”