London Falling (16 page)

“What a fool.” That bloke should have been drawn and quartered.

She winced. “I know. But I definitely learned my lesson.”

“I was speaking of Rodney, not of you.”

“But I was such an idiot, giving the thief a free ticket to London and an invitation to take everything I owned.”

A half-laugh, half-groan escaped his lips. “Are you joking? Look at what you’ve done? You practically beat the bloke up after he attacked you and then you’re strong enough to find a way to survive in a strange city without any money. I wouldn’t call you a fool. I’d call you a force to be reckoned with.

You’re smart and determined and you don’t fall apart at the first sign of trouble. I wish I had half your courage.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re just trying to make me feel better.”

“I’m completely serious. But is it working?”

“No,” she said, but she couldn’t stop the smile from turning up her lips.

“He’s a fool for treating you so badly. If I could find him, I’d beat him to a bloody pulp.”

“You’d have to race me to it.”

He laughed. “What if I hold him down, while you do the honors?”

“It’s a deal.” She held out her hand.

Her hand felt so small in his. So fragile. Yet, this woman had the strength of a thousand women. When their eyes met, she smiled and he felt it all the way to his gut. One lone freckle, separated from the rest, punctuated her cheek just below her right eye. He wanted to kiss that spot, and see if the skin tasted as sweet as he expected.

A blast of cold air swirled around them as a crop of teenagers entered the station. She dropped her hand from his and turned toward the door.

“We should go,” she said.

He followed her out the door, where the frigid air made his teeth ache.

The wind swirled around them, tossing wrappers and leaves in the air.

If the police found Rodney and that woman, they’d find her clothes, her money–well, maybe not her money–and her airline voucher. Both of their problems would be solved, and he could stop his crazy lusting after her. “You spent quite a bit of time with this Rodney bloke. Any ideas where he might go? Places he wanted to see? Things he wanted to do?” He hit the unlock button on his key fob.

“I have some ideas,” she said.

When he opened the door for her, she slid into the seat. There was something about the look on her face that made him pause. Her mind was working overtime on this one, and he didn’t like it one bit.

“If you know where he is, you have to tell the detective,” he said.

“If I knew where he was, don’t you think I’d be knocking on his door right now?” She shook her head.

“Aimee, you have got to tell the detective if you have any clues that might lead the police to him. You can’t go after him yourself.”

“I told the police everything I know.”

“Aimee, he could be dangerous. Promise me you won’t try to find him on your own?”

“Rodney’s not dangerous. He’s just a jerk. It’s freezing. Would you mind shutting the door?”

He gave her what he hoped was an evil eye.

“Oh, all right. I promise that if I have any ideas about where Rodney might be, I’ll let the cops know.”

“Good.” He shut her door, and walked around to the other side. He couldn’t take any chances that she might get hurt going after this guy. He started the car, turned up the heat, and punched his car into traffic.

She was worming her way into his life and he didn’t like it one bit. The sooner she returned home, the better.

When her arm was ready to give out after all the beating and mixing and frosting, Aimee slumped over the counter. She had 72 cupcakes cooling in the pantry and 24 more in the oven.

And thousands more to go. How in the world was she ever going to make enough money to buy a ticket home? She still had to cover the cost of the ingredients and the boxes to transport them. Add in the essential items she’d discovered she could no longer live without–toothbrush, toothpaste, and deodorant–and she was going to have to become the Donald Trump of cupcakes.

She was never going to make it.

But when the oven timer dinged, she pulled her shoulders back, put on her oven mitts, and got back to work, because failure wasn’t an option. She’d worked harder than this before, and she could do it again.

Cupcake pitter-pattered to the stove. “Watch out, cutie. I don’t want you to get burned.” She shooed him away with her foot and pulled out her fourth batch of the day. Tomorrow, she’d have to get an earlier start.

After setting the pans to cool, she stirred the stew bubbling on the stove.

She figured she had about an hour before Simon returned from work, which was enough time for one more batch before she had to hide everything in her bedroom.

Cupcake chose that moment to flip around and bark at the top of his lungs. Although he pawed the floor in a speedy run, his soles slipped on the tile floor and he remained in one spot. If she weren’t so startled, she would have laughed at the image of Cupcake furiously running in place. His nails finally scraped up enough traction to move forward and launch his furry body at Lucy, just as she walked through the kitchen door.

“Aaeek!” Lucy froze in place as Cupcake threw himself against her legs.

She lifted her hand to her chest and let out her breath. “Blast! Scared me half to death! Exactly what I need to make this day even more perfect.” She stomped over to Aimee. “Hiya,” she said, giving her the obligatory two sided cheek kiss. “Why aren’t you wearing the clothes?” Lucy asked before stalking to the pantry door, whipping it open and walking inside.

“Um, I didn’t want to mess them up while I cooked.” Aimee walked over to the door, wondering what Lucy would say about the pans of cupcakes littering the shelves, but Lucy was staring at the stacks of dishes on the opposite side of the pantry.

“Oh,” Lucy said, clearly distracted. Her hands were on her waist, and her fingers tapped her hips in frustration. “I hate this stupid benefit.” Lucy started pulling dishes off the shelves and setting them on the ground. “Simon just assumes that I have nothing going on in my job and can just whip up a benefit for the Royal Opera at the last second. Does he even realize how much is involved in planning an event like this? Noooo. I’ve been on a right mission to get everything cracked.” Lucy moved to the dishes on another shelf, shoving stacks around until she found what she was looking for.

Aimee glanced at her unfinished cupcakes before turning back to Lucy, who looked like she was about to lose it. Cupcakes or Lucy? She stepped into the pantry. “What happened?”

“I just spent the entire day calling caterers and no one is available. I finally found someone who can provide food, but they’ve used all of their dishes for another event. So now I have to come over here and count blooming appetizer plates. Ergh! Like I have nothing else to do.”

There was a sharp crack as Lucy banged her head on a shelf. “Ouch!” Her eyes filled with tears, and then she crumpled into a cross-legged position on the floor and hung her head in her hands.

Aimee rushed over. As she sat down, Cupcake trotted over and tried to climb into her lap, but she held her hand in front of him. Deprived of his prey, he curled up next to her leg instead. “I’m sorry.” Aimee glanced at the clock.

There was no way she was going to have enough time to make the final batch tonight. “What can I do to help?”

Lucy sighed. “Nothing. I’ve nearly got all the major things sorted now.

I’m simply having a bad day.”

“What happened?”

“Simon’s being a total prat. He won’t let up on the location.”

“I thought the benefit was going to be here?”

“It is. But Simon doesn’t want it here. Does he think I’m a miracle worker? He asks for my help at the last minute and it’s the stupid, busy holiday season. I know he hates having anyone enter his private domain, but he should be used to it since he’s in the tabs at least once a week. Get over it!”

“What do you mean he’s in ‘the tabs’ once a week?”

“It’s not my fault that he works his fingers to the bone at the bank. But now when I’m able to help, does he ever ask for my help? No.” She banged her fists on her knees. “I’m a member of this family too. But Simon has to do it all. Why does he assume that I can’t do anything to help?”

“Simon keeps mentioning the tabs. What are the tabs?”

“The tabloids. He’s constantly being photographed with his clients. Last week, it was Kiera Knightly.”

Aimee squashed her envy faster than a six-legged spider. She knew she was out of his league and this only confirmed it. And it explained why the policeman knew who he was.

“He takes my help for granted. He only gave me two weeks to get it sorted and simply assumed that I didn’t have anything going on. It’s the holidays! Of course I have a busy benefit calendar, but did he even ask?”

Did Lucy realize she was talking out of both sides of her mouth? On the one hand, she wanted Simon to ask for her help more often, but when he did ask for her help, she got upset with him. Maybe she just felt unappreciated.

“Um, has Simon thanked you for your help?”

“About a million times, and it’s driving me crazy.”

Aimee stared at the ceiling. Something else was going on here. But what?

Psychology 101 didn’t exactly cover how to deal with over-emotional people.

“And now I’m stuck dealing with this horrid caterer.”

“What’s so horrid about them?”

Lucy shook her head and stared at the floor. “She was just so cheerful!”

“I can see how that would piss you off,” Aimee said, but Lucy didn’t seem to get the humor in the situation.

“It was New Years this and New Years that, and my boyfriend and I, he’s so perfect and wonderful and so romantic, did you see what he got me for Christmas?” Aha. They were getting somewhere. “And then she had to interrogate me. New Years, New Years, New Years. I hate New Years.”

“Me too,” Aimee said. “That’s why I always work over the holiday. Much easier to deal with all the drunks if you’re getting paid for it.”

Lucy finally laughed. “I find it’s better to stay home and avoid them altogether.” Her smile faded. “But this woman wouldn’t let up on me. ‘Of course you have to have plans for the New Year. You can’t stay home alone.’ I tried to tell her that I’m too busy right now and need a night at home, but she wouldn’t let up. On and on and on. And I couldn’t be rude to her, because she’s my last hope for the benefit.”

Aimee figured she had it much easier than Lucy, because she always had an excuse about why she wasn’t going out on New Year’s Eve. Or Christmas break. Or Fourth of July. She had to work. It certainly made life a lot easier, if a lot less fun.

Of course, this New Year’s was supposed to be totally different, because this was going to be the year when she finally got her life in order.

Graduating, getting a real job, and finally earning enough money to dig out from the debt hole that school had gotten her into. But that was before Rodney turned into the biggest asshole on the planet. And now she was working on New Year’s Eve, selling cupcakes to people on the street. Woo hoo.

“At least you have money and a place to live.”

Lucy placed her hand over her heart. “Oh, now you are making me feel horrible.”

“That was supposed to make you feel better, not worse.”

“Yes, but you’re in a much bigger pickle than I am. You’re so sweet to listen to me complain, when you have more than every right to complain about your own situation.”

Aimee shrugged. Maybe she didn’t complain because she never had anyone to complain to.

“Hey,” Lucy said. “Can I have a fairy cake? I missed lunch today and I’m quite peckish.”

Aimee fought the urge to ask for a pound in return. “Sure.”

Lucy uncurled her body from the floor and walked over to the closest tray. “Why are there so many?”

“So many?” Crap. “I … uh, felt bad about throwing the last batch away, so I’m making extras for Simon to freeze.” Although frozen cupcakes were about the least yummy thing ever, because freezer burn wreaked havoc on cakes.

Lucy wrinkled her nose. “Won’t they get freezer burn?”

“Guess I wasn’t thinking about that. Oh well, Simon probably won’t notice.” Especially since there wouldn’t be any cupcakes to put in the freezer in the first place.

Lucy peeled back the wrapper and bit into the top. “Oh, these are sooo good. Without doubt the best fairy cakes I’ve ever tried.” She closed her eyes.

“You will give me the recipe, right?”

“Of course,” Aimee said.

Lucy’s eyes snapped open. “Hey! Why don’t you come over to my flat for the New Year? The event only lasts until half-past eight, so I’ll be home early and we can cook up a feast and watch terrible movies on the telly.”

“Um …” New Year’s Eve was supposed to be her huge cupcake night. All those people out and about for a long night would want a snack to hold them over. But she had no excuse to say no, so she was stuck. “I’d love to.”

“Fab! We can talk about the time later.” She walked over to the mess of plates on the floor and sighed. “In the meantime, I have got to get this sorted and then meet Isabella to talk about what she needs for the evening. Oh, and the caterer will need to come round sometime over the next few days to check out the facilities.”

Lucy finished up in the pantry, while Aimee put the last batch of cupcakes in the oven and frosted the other batch. As Aimee scrubbed the dirty bowl, she tried to figure out how to get out of going to Lucy’s for New Year’s Eve. She had to earn enough money to get home before classes started, no matter how badly she wanted to relax.

Lucy would be crushed.

And that was the crux of the issue. Every fiber of her being wanted to hang out with Lucy and watch terrible movies on the ‘telly.’ It had been so long since she’d hung out with a girlfriend and done nothing in particular, and she missed the camaraderie of having a group of friends–or even a friend–to spend time with. She used to have that before Gram got so sick and Aimee had to drop out of college to take care of her. Sitting around, eating raw cookie dough, and talking about boys with Paige were some of the best memories of her life.