Mystery Date (Harlequin Blaze) (17 page)

“Maybe you could be, too.”

He’d already proved that theory wrong over and over again, and he was sure he wouldn’t be good at it anytime soon. Once these next few days were over, things would be the same as they always were.

“Callum?”

“Yes.”

Her laugh was soft. “I thought you might’ve fallen asleep on me. It’s getting late.”

“Then I’ll let you get back to bed.”

“You mean, you don’t want to—?” She cut herself off. “Okay.”

It took him a moment to process what she’d almost asked him.

Was she thinking he was going to make his way over to her room again?

The raw truth hit him then: even if they’d just had a heartfelt conversation, she still saw him as one thing in the end. A playboy. A fun date. And she wanted to get back to it.

But had he said anything to make her think otherwise? And why the hell would he want her to believe there was a chance of anything else?

Disappointment gnashed at him, but he should’ve expected it. The bottom line was that Leigh had come on this trip for new experiences, not to hear him moping.

She obviously knew the conversation was over. “Sweet dreams,” she said.

He wished her good-night, too, knowing that his dreams would be just as haunted as ever.

10

D
ANI HAD BIG
plans for her day off, so when she stepped out of the shower that morning, she quickly toweled off, put on a robe and made a beeline for her closet.

She was going to go shopping for a wedding ring for Riley while he was working as an estate manager out of town. She’d been putting off the ring thing because she just couldn’t find the perfect style for him. That was what she’d kept saying anyway...until she’d come to realize that she’d been lying to herself about that.

Cold feet. It was finally time to admit she had them. The ring had only been a symptom of her bigger problem, and thank God she’d come to terms with it these past few days.

Rifling through her clothes, she first bypassed the cosmopolitan blouses and skirts she’d recently bought that resembled Margot’s wardrobe; her friend’s brassy Around the Girl in Eighty Ways basket had inspired more than just sexual experimentation in Dani—she’d always admired how Margot looked, too. But she was done with that makeover phase now. And she’d even come around to the conclusion that her job at the catering company was a darn good one, and she was lucky to have it in these rough times. There’d be plenty of years ahead when she and Riley could explore other options.

Plenty of time.

She got to the other side of her closet, with the flowery-print dresses that had defined the sweet, innocent Dani she’d been, pastel shirts that had complemented her curly red hair back before she’d chopped it off in this sharp bob that didn’t feel quite right anymore...

She choked up, and before she knew it, she was crying like a moron, clutching one of the old Dani dresses, pressing her face into the worn cotton. Out of nowhere, her dad’s voice entered her mind from that ugly day five years ago when her parents had told her they had something important to talk to her about.

Your mom and I haven’t been happy for a while, Dani—

Then Mom, breaking in.
We’re getting a divorce, honey.

From the way Mom had glanced at Dad, Dani had known there was a bigger explanation that they weren’t giving her, and it wasn’t until months later that Mom finally got around to the full truth—that Dad’s attentions had strayed.

We grew out of each other,
she’d said, holding back the tears...

Dani’s cheeks were wet as she let go of the dress. It was all just hitting her now: she could buy new clothes, take a new job, be a strong woman in and out of the bedroom—and she would still do that—but there were some things she couldn’t ever change.

Like who she really was.

Utterly helpless, she sat on the floor, her back to the wall, crying about the anguish her mom had gone through, crying because anyone could get hurt, crying until she was out of tears.

Her wedding feet were freezing. When would she get ahold of herself?

She got up, reached for her phone on the nightstand and dialed a number. Leigh would understand her predicament more than love-happy Margot right now.

It didn’t take but a couple of rings for her friend to answer.

“Help?” Dani asked with a semicroak.

“Dani? Are you okay?”

She thought she heard something clang on the other end of the line. “Yeah.” A mistimed sob broke into her voice. “Are you cooking right now? I can call back.”

“No, tell me what’s wrong.”

Without further ado, she told Leigh everything. Good heavens, she’d been holding it all back for a while now, pretending life was hunky-dory when fear and doubt had been tearing her up inside, even as she’d become more assertive in other ways. She told Leigh things she hadn’t even told Riley about, like how she fully expected him to do her wrong in the future just as her dad had done to her mom, and how ridiculous she was being because Riley would never betray her.

Just as her mom had thought her dad wouldn’t.

“All along I thought I was having an identity crisis, but that’s not what was going on at all,” she said. “I want to get over it, but I can’t, and each day that passes makes me want to throw up, Leigh. How’s that for a bride-to-be?”

“I’m sure this has happened to more than one woman.” Leigh, so calm, so practical. “Can you tell Riley everything you told me, then take it from there? You’ll feel way better.”

“It’d be a slap in his face, especially since he thinks I’ve gotten over the hump. He’d wonder why I can’t trust him when he’s earned it. He’ll think there’s something wrong with him, not me, because that’s just how he is—a man who takes everything on himself.”

“A prince among men.” Leigh’s pause was a little too long.

“Leigh?” Dani asked, sniffling. “Is there something
you
should be telling
me?
Should we be commiserating together about your date or...?”

“Not at all. I’m having the best time.”

So why did she sound
too
chipper?

“Listen,” Leigh said, “I’m actually in the middle of cooking breakfast. Would it be okay if I called you later?”

“Definitely.” Dani wiped her face. “I’m pretty sure I got the worst of it out of me anyway with this attractive spaz attack. And I really should get moving.”

“Work?”

“No, I’m off to...” Oh, God, to buy Riley’s ring. “Do errands.”

“You’re truly fine? You’re not just saying that?”

Dani’s gaze lingered on the old flowered dress that seemed so drab next to the more sophisticated new clothes. “Yes, I’m fine.”

As they disconnected, Dani went to sit on her bed, slowly letting out her breath. The phone call really had helped; she was already feeling better. And any minute now her roiling stomach would receive the same message.

Any minute now.

* * *

L
EIGH HUNG UP
the phone and put it on the upper counter, away from the batter bowl and hodgepodge of ingredients she’d pulled out of the fridge and pantry for the lemon pancakes she’d decided to throw together.

Based on what she’d found in the fridge and pantry, she’d tossed a bit of lemon zest and juice into the white wheat-flour mix just to see where it all went.

Adventures in the kitchen. She’d awakened early following a night of tossing and turning after Callum had made that call to her. So as soon as she could, she’d come here, seeking comfort in what she did best. But her heart wasn’t into cooking as much as it usually was, and it had nothing to do with Dani’s situation, either—although that was definitely giving Leigh some concern.

Dani was obviously anxious about the wedding. Totally stressed out. And Leigh had already decided she would be making it a priority to de-stress the bride-to-be when this date was finished. Dani had a wedding-planning get-together this weekend anyway, and Lord help them all if she was still a mess at that point.

Leigh stopped stirring the batter to drink from the glass of orange juice that she’d squeezed with a juicer.

She couldn’t help obsessing a little about where Callum was this morning, when he’d call. Couldn’t she even go a few hours without him? All that’d been keeping her together was the film she’d watched more than a few times last night. But it wasn’t the same as having him with her, where she could touch him, smell his skin, burrow against him for a short time.

God, she was hopelessly trapped in him and his games.

And she feared she was trapped in maybe even more than just that. Because he had phoned her to lay his soul bare, and it’d gotten to her.

A wife,
she thought for about the hundredth time. He was mourning a wife, and for some reason he’d felt compelled to let her know about that. The most moving thing about the call was how he’d sounded; it hadn’t been self-assured like the Callum she’d come to know but...brokenhearted.

Yes, that was exactly what he’d been, and at that moment, his games had all made sense to her. Was he a man who couldn’t handle anything serious, so he went for the opposite?

But just as they’d been getting somewhere with each other, she must’ve said something wrong, because he’d become guarded again, and they’d ended the call on a bad note. It was almost as if he were more of a stranger to her than ever, and she wasn’t sure if he would even want to see her today. Or tomorrow.

Yet after his bombshell, she couldn’t just assume that and abandon him. He’d grabbed her heart last night with that call, squeezing it, introducing emotion into a scenario that was never supposed to have any.

And it was such a bad idea for her to want to comfort him now, even though he’d started off doing just that to her during his phone call, telling her that he understood about losing someone. But it was only that...damn it, she’d started to feel something, and wanting to comfort him seemed natural. How dumb was that, though, if Callum was suffering from a torn-up heart? Talk about being in second place in life; she was just asking for it by getting in deeper with a man who still seemed to put another woman first.

A sinking sensation in her belly made her pause in bringing the juice glass to her mouth for another drink, but when she realized what she was doing, she rebounded quickly, taking another sip. She couldn’t let his moods affect her. Wouldn’t.

When she heard boot steps on the tile, she glanced up to see Adam entering the kitchen area, his Stetson in his hands, his black hair mussed once again.

She imagined herself reaching up to smooth it back in place, her stomach flipping.

Great. Could she be a bigger bundle of hormones? She was just projecting onto the nearest hot guy because now that Callum had sexed her up, she needed more, and Adam was available.

“Mornin’,” the cowboy said, stopping by the counter where Leigh was taking slices of bacon out of the package and readying the skillet.

“Morning,” Leigh echoed. His drawl struck her again with how un-Callum-like it was. “You here early to pick me up for my ride with Bessie Blue?”

At the excitement in her tone, he smiled, and she looked away. Maybe she and Bessie would have a talk today about men.

“Not necessarily,” he said. “Don’t think I’m presumptuous, but I told a neighbor about you and your show, and he wondered if he could do some breakfast sampling. Mrs. Ellison said you were in here cooking up a storm.”

“I’m humbled that you all would want anything that I make.” She smiled, laying the bacon down to fry. Then she poured a glass of juice for him as he took a seat at the counter, as if he wanted a front-row view for the culinary show Leigh was putting on while he waited for the pancakes.

Just don’t look at him and you’ll be okay,
she told herself as he drank. And the strategy worked...at least for the time it took to fry that bacon.

When she was done, she took the bacon off to drain on paper towels.
No projecting. No warming up to Adam just because Callum’s giving you a tough time.

Adam cleared his throat, but when she glanced at him, he was looking away from her as he usually did, as if he didn’t want her to catch him checking her out. A flutter twirled up her chest at the thought.

Stop.

“Lemon pancakes?” he asked. “Is that what you’re making?”

She pointed to the yellow fruit peels on the counter, nodding, and he laughed.

“I know—good guess. I can’t say I’ve ever had any.”

Scooping the refuse from the counter and tossing it in the nearby garbage basket, she said, “I found some lemons and all the basics around, so I just went for it, even though it’s way more decadent than my usual breakfast.” She was going to be careful about falling into old habits, eating when she got frustrated about something or another. Mainly, she’d cooked for Callum this morning, hoping he would show up at some point.

She shrugged. “Anyway, it looks like someone stocked this kitchen well.”

“Mrs. Ellison went to a nearby farm stand early this morning.” Adam picked up his glass again. “It’s her usual routine.”

After he drank, he put his glass down, then smoothed back his hair. He was sitting half on, half off his stool, as if he couldn’t decide if he was staying or going. It seemed that he was being extremely watchful with her, assessing her, and she was pretty sure why that was.

She laughed. “You act like you’re afraid I’ll start grilling you again about Callum. Don’t worry yourself about it.”

It was as if she’d called him out, and he relaxed, finally hanging his hat and on the back of the neighboring barstool. “I’m safe, then?”

Callum would’ve already turned this into a sparring match. Adam’s disposition was the polar opposite.

“You’re safe.” She patted the bacon dry. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t ask about you, right?”

He leaned forward, resting his arms on the counter. “I guess you can try.”

“Okay. You don’t sound like a SoCal native. Too much of a drawl in your voice.”

“Then I guess I’ll have to tone it down.”

“That was kind of my way of asking where you’re really from.”