Love in the Morning (21 page)

“Teresa said they kept talking about it for a while,” Lizzy said slowly. “She said she had a hard time getting them to stop.”

“Oh believe it, honey.” Nona sighed. “That damn party kept coming up on that show for weeks afterward. I think your cousin even took a swing at one of the others for talking about it.”

Lizzy turned back to Dick. “But what does that mean? So they had big ratings. The network couldn't have known that would happen.”

“Sure they could, but it wasn't the network I was thinking of. The production company, Fairstein, could have figured it out. They could also have set it up as a ratings stunt. Never underestimate the depths a Hollywood production company might stoop to. We all got a taste of that the last time Fairstein came to town.” He pushed his empty beer stein toward Ronnie, who looked surprisingly somber all of a sudden.

Lizzy took another swallow of her own beer. This wasn't exactly a cheery conversation. “But if the production company did this, there's no way they'll ever clear me. Even if we had proof it was them, they'd never say anything about it on the show.”

Clark leaned forward on the bar beside her. “Maybe. But they're not the only game in town.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning if we had proof that Fairstein was behind this, we could go to the tabloids with it. It would cause a big stink, and Fairstein would probably deny it like hell, but at least it would show you weren't to blame. Or that you weren't the only likely suspect.”

Nona turned to Dick. “But how does this help Lizzy now? That damn Gala is coming up in a few days. And her psycho cousin's liable to go ballistic if she sees her at the Praeger House booth.”

Dick shrugged. “I didn't say it was infallible. I just said it was a way to go. Find out who did what at that dinner party and be ready to talk about it. If the psycho cousin's got somebody else to be mad at, she's likely to leave the chef here alone. Of course, that's what a sane person would be likely to do. With those dames, it may be hard to say.”

“Okay, Sherlock, how do we go about finding all of this out? Do a Web search on the tabloids?” Nona tried a carrot with onion dip, frowning.

“No, we sic the town on them.” Dick gave her another of those crafty smiles. “Hell, by now most of the town's already fed up with them. Enlist some of the people around here to do a little active spying. You already know most of the waitresses, hotel maids and sales clerks in Salt Box, Nona. Just have them ask a few leading questions and mostly keep their ears open since I doubt those harpies will ever give them a chance to get a word in.” Dick chomped down on his own carrot stick.

“I can talk to the makeup and hair people again,” Ronnie mused. “I didn't ask anything specific before, but now I've got something to look for.”

“But all of this means telling people who I am,” Lizzy said slowly, “letting people know what I was involved with before I came here.”

Nona shook her head. “Oh, honey, most of them already know and nobody cares. They just figured it was television. Once you started cooking for Clark everybody knew you were okay. It's just the tourists you need to worry about. All in all you were probably smart to keep a low profile. But, see, you didn't have to do it for us. Tourists can be a pain sometimes.”

“Tourists are a pain at all times,” Dick grumbled. “The town would be a lot better off without them.”

“You just say that because you don't make your living off them the way most of the town does.” Nona took his arm, pulling him off his stool. “Come on, Grumpy. I'll make you some pot roast.”

Dick gave her a smile with considerably more warmth. “With mashed potatoes? And some of those little peas?”

Nona shook her head, sighing. “We'll see. Let's just get on home first.”

As they moved away from the bar, Ted leaned forward again, smiling at Lizzy. “Still want that cheeseburger? I can get Lorraine working on it if you do.”

Lizzy stared down at her empty beer glass, then back up again. Clark's chest was pressed against her back, his hands warm against her hips. All they'd done last night was sleep, but she was a lot less tired all of a sudden. “Maybe not,” she said softly.

“Definitely not.” He put his hands on her shoulders, turning her gently toward the exit. “I've got pizza. And we need to do some strategizing.”

“We do,” she agreed. “Let's take care of that in private.”

“Oh yeah,” he said. “Private it is.”

Chapter Twenty-One

Clark really wished he had a bottle of champagne on ice or maybe a decent bottle of wine around for cheering-up purposes. He'd even have settled for some decent food—the pizza he'd promised was a frozen one he'd grabbed from the convenience store in the lobby.

On the other hand, he had a fire in the fireplace and a nearly naked woman in his arms, so he was ahead of the game on several important levels.

Lizzy ran the backs of her fingers along his cheekbone. “You know, I'm officially tired of thinking about all of this. We do need to work out the whole Gala thing soon, but not right now, okay?”

“I can live with that.” He transferred his attentions to her earlobe, nibbling lightly.

She put her hands on either side of his face, turning his head and pulling his mouth down to hers.

He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, pulling her tighter against him, feeling the warm weight of her breasts pressed against his chest. The couch wasn't exactly oversize, but it was wide enough for what he had in mind, assuming they didn't get too athletic. He'd waited long enough for this, at least in part because of his own idiocy. He wasn't willing to put it off until they were in the bedroom.

Her mouth was a spicy delight. He changed the angle of their lips so that his tongue could plunge deep. Her fingers combed through his hair, brushing his scalp, and he felt a charge all the way to his toes. His scalp was an erogenous zone? Who knew?

Her hands moved again, this time pressing against his shoulders until he broke the kiss. His lips felt instantly colder. “Um…problems?”

Dark brown eyes stared up at him, and then she was pushing harder until he lifted away. Now he was seriously concerned. “What?”

“Take off your pants and lie down.” She pointed at the couch behind him.

“Now?”
When we were moving along so nicely?

She nodded abruptly. “Now.”

He moved away from her, lying down on his back as he managed to push his jeans and underwear to the floor. His cock rose up almost painfully. Whatever she had planned, he hoped it wasn't going to take long. He didn't trust his powers of tantric self-denial.

She pulled off her own jeans, then knelt between his spread legs, her lips curving up in a faint smile as she studied him. “Oh, my.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to remember some of the distraction techniques he'd used in the past. State capitols? The alphabet backwards? Unfortunately, his brain had partially liquefied during the last five minutes. “Oh, my, what?”

“Oh, my, you are ready, aren't you?”

He stared up at her. Why hadn't he noticed the spark in those eyes until now? He really hoped it was more a friendly spark than a vengeful one. “This isn't going to be some kind of punishment, is it? Because I'm probably not up to a full-scale S and M thing right now.”

She ignored him, running her hands along his shaft, her thumb rubbing across the head.

“Lizzy?” he managed, but it was more of a croak than a real question.

She wrapped one hand around the base of his shaft, the other cupping his sac, and then she leaned forward so slowly he thought he might explode before she reached him. Her lips fastened on the head of his cock, her tongue slipping across quickly.

“Lizzy,” he groaned. “Christ Jesus.”

She glanced up and grinned at him. “Shhhh.”

His head fell back. She was shushing him. Okay, she could do her worst—he'd try to hang on as long as he could.

Her hands moved with her mouth, heat and moisture and her fine, long fingers, touching him, moving him, driving him.
Z, y, x, w, v, u, a, e, i, o…

He felt the tension gathering in his spine, the heat like a rocket launching from his gut. “Lizzy,” he groaned again.

She raised her head to look at him. Then she reached for the condom he'd placed on the coffee table. Before he knew it she was leaning forward, one hand braced on his chest as the other guided the head of his sheathed cock into her opening.

His breath left his lungs with a whoosh.
Z, y, w, v, u, t, s, r…
There was no way he was remembering anything more. Distraction no longer seemed like an even distant possibility. All he could do was hang on and let her ride him to completion.

Both of her hands rested on his shoulders now. She stared down at him, dark eyes burning, her gaze meeting his. “Don't,” she whispered. “Not yet.”

“Trying my best, ma'am,” he growled.
Hold on, hold on, hold on.
And then the scalding heat of her body, the pounding rhythm of her movement, the intoxication of what she was doing for him overwhelmed all his best intentions. “Jesus, sweet Jesus.” The lights swam before his eyes and all he could do was pound into her, the red haze enveloping him as he emptied himself.

He had enough wit left to bring his hands to where they were joined, touching her, nudging her over the edge along with him. He heard her moan as her body jerked above him, the sudden clenching of her muscles sending him back to his own spiral.

She stayed in place for a moment longer, watching him, her lips edging up in a faintly self-satisfied smile. And then she slid down to rest against his chest.

He looped his arms around her waist, holding her close to him, feeling the soft tickle of her hair against his skin. “That was very good, lady. Very, very good.”

She nodded, her cheek sliding against his collarbone, then nestled closer. “Very good indeed.” He had a feeling she was close to drifting off. So was he. Still, he'd brought her here to reassure her. Sort of. And to make her forget the past week or so. He needed to pay attention.

“You're not really worried, are you?” he murmured, running his hand up and down her back, feeling the satin of her skin slide beneath his fingers.

“Not now,” she mumbled. “Too comfortable.”

Comfortable.
He took a quick reality check. He was warm, sated, his arms full of a beautiful woman he cared about. Yeah,
comfortable
about summed it up. More comfortable than he'd been in a long time, in fact.

Love
would sum it up too.

It wasn't the first time he'd considered that idea. He was pretty sure he felt something way beyond the ordinary for Lizzy. On the other hand, he wasn't sure he was ready to go there yet. Once he acknowledged the L-word, even to himself, a lot of things would change. Change wasn't bad, necessarily, but he wanted to think it through first.

And there was always the possibility that Lizzy didn't feel the same way. That particular thought sent a quick shudder through him.

Lizzy raised her head. “Cold?”

Cold? With her in his arms? Not likely. “Maybe we should move to the bed. For warmth.”
Right
.

Her lips curved upward slightly as she studied him. “For warmth.”

“Yeah. And comfort. And a little more room to maneuver.” The couch wasn't exactly made for acrobatic feats. Although come to think of it Lizzy had done just fine. More than fine. More than
very, very good
if he were honest.

She was still smiling, running the tip of her index finger down the center of his chest. “Okay, then. Maneuvering sounds good.”

Maneuvering sounded great. Right now it beat thinking all to hell.

*****

Lizzy was back at the omelet station the next day. It was possible Lauren or somebody else might let Teresa know where she was, but she didn't particularly care any more. Her cousin had told her to stay out of her sight, which actually suited Lizzy just fine. She didn't much want to see Teresa either. As long as Teresa stayed at the resort and Lizzy stayed in town, the two of them could both be satisfied. She considered it a truce.

Desi hadn't been unhappy about being relieved from the omelets. “I like making muffins better. People don't get so impatient.”

Lizzy nodded. “Omelets are high stress.”

“Is that what you want to do for the Gala, make omelets?” Desi gave her a sort of neutral look as he gathered his muffin ingredients. Lizzy guessed he was hoping she'd say no.

She obliged. “Nope. Omelets are too big. The stuff we hand out at the Gala is supposed to be a tidbit, food that people can eat as they walk around the place.”

He frowned. “So what are we going to make?”

Good question.
“I'm still thinking. It has to be something we prepare in advance and then just rewarm and hand out.” Desi could do the handing out part—she'd stay in the background doing the rewarming, maybe behind a wall if one was handy.

“Muffins?” Desi's smile was blinding.

“Yeah, mini-muffins.” She frowned. “But we'll need to do something else along with them. A savory dish to go along with the sweet.”

The door to the dining room swished as someone opened it. “Lizzy?”

She glanced up quickly. Ronnie was smiling as she leaned into the room. “Gee, I never saw the kitchen here before. It's a lot bigger than the one at the Blarney Stone.”

“It's a full-size hotel kitchen. We just use part of it.” Lizzy wiped her hands on a towel, then glanced at Desi.

He was staring at Ronnie, jaw slack. He looked a little like a cartoon character—Lizzy half-expected him to jump up in the air and start panting.

“Could I talk to you for a sec?” Ronnie gave her a low-wattage smile. “I've got some news.”

Lizzy's pulse picked up. News from Ronnie was probably about
Lovely Ladies of LA.
She headed across the kitchen. “Would you like a muffin? We've got a few left over from breakfast.” That should at least make Desi happy.

“Oh.” Ronnie's forehead furrowed as she thought, then she shrugged. “Sure. I'll be going to the gym later.”

Desi sprang into action. “We've got some pumpkin spice and some blueberry, ma'am.” He extended a plate of muffins in Ronnie's direction.

She blinked at him as she picked up a pumpkin muffin. Lizzy guessed she wasn't used to being addressed as
ma'am.
“Thanks.”

Desi stood at her elbow, still looking slightly poleaxed. “Oh, you're welcome. I hope you like it.”

Lizzy decided enough was enough. “Grab some coffee, Ronnie—we can talk in the dining room.”

She took a blueberry muffin for herself and told Desi to get started on the carrot muffins for tomorrow. That should keep him occupied for at least an hour or so.

“What's up?” she asked as she pulled out a chair at one of the empty tables.

Ronnie plopped into the seat opposite her. “I just found out they're going to let people watch them film that big reunion scene with the Ladies today—the one where they might get into a fight or something. One of the makeup girls gave me a pass to get in and watch. I thought you might want to go too so you could see who's mad at who these days. Maybe it'll help you remember who was there when you had your problem.”

Lizzy sighed, peeling the paper wrapper off her muffin.
Problem
was a delicate way of describing mass nausea. “Thanks, but I can't be anywhere Teresa might see me. She'd get upset, and she'd probably point me out on camera.”

Ronnie nodded slowly. “I thought of that. But you know, when I was on
Finding Mr. Right,
I could never see anybody on the other side of the lights when they were filming. If you're in the crowd and the lights are shining in Teresa's eyes, chances are she won't notice you. And they're shooting at the big hotel at the resort, so there'll probably be a lot of people standing around.”

“Do you really want to go and watch?” Lizzy had a feeling standing next to Ronnie could draw all kinds of unwanted attention.

“I thought I might—just for old time's sake.” Ronnie smiled again. “I got a kick out of being on
Finding Mr. Right
.” Her smile faded slightly. “Well, some of it anyway. But you know, that could work in your favor as long as we don't stand together. I mean, if I go, chances are people will be watching me instead of looking at you or anybody else in the audience. Because I was on the other show, and they know me.”

Lizzy figured that was accurate. Most people probably looked at Ronnie whenever she was around. And that didn't necessarily have anything to do her having been on a television show. “When are they doing the filming?”

“This afternoon. Around four. I can tell Ted I'll be a little late for work tonight. Do you want to come with me?”

Lizzy paused, considering. If Teresa saw her, she'd be back on national television with her screeching relative. But if she could somehow watch without being discovered, she might learn something. If nothing else, it would remind her of who was who, and who she needed to avoid at the Gala.

“Okay,” she said slowly. “I'll stay at the back of the crowd, though.”

Ronnie nodded. “Good idea. I'll pick you up around three thirty.”

“I'll be ready.” And being ready would probably include finding a baseball cap and sunglasses.

She watched Ronnie head back out of the dining room, carrying her muffin. This was an insane idea and fraught with danger. But maybe it was time for a little insanity, all things considered.

*****

The hotel where the filming was to take place was large, new, flashy and not nearly as attractive as Praeger House in Lizzy's opinion. Of course, she might be somewhat prejudiced in that regard. She took her place at the back of the room, pulling her cap low on her forehead and hoping she could find a convenient pillar to hide behind.

The filming was supposed to start at four, just as Ronnie had said. But neither of them had figured on the amount of time it would take to get all the various ladies settled into their seats, particularly when each of them suspected that the other ladies had gotten seats with better camera angles.

By four forty-five, after Lizzy had watched the filming start and stop for a half hour, she was beginning to wonder why she'd bothered to worry about being recognized. It was unlikely that any of the ladies could see her. In fact, she doubted that any of the ladies cared enough to look at anybody except the other ladies, whom they were watching for defensive purposes. From where she hovered at the back of the small crowd, she could barely see anyone beyond the camera crew. Fortunately, someone had set up an oversized television monitor at the side of the room so that the spectators could watch the action.