On Any Given Sundae (4 page)

“I can’t wait to meet the infamous Roberto
Gabinarri. The guy was amazing on the football field,” Nick
declared, fingering his black sideburns and looking especially
Greek this morning.

Elizabeth marveled at the
twenty-two-year-old’s classic features. Turn him into marble and
prop him up by the Parthenon. No one would suspect he didn’t belong
there.

“He was a legend you know,” Nick said in Part
Two of his Roberto Dissertation. “I read about his senior season in
the Wilmington Bay High School record books. Do you know he
averaged
fourteen points per game as a quarterback and that
during game three of the regional playoffs he scored a record
thirty-two points? And isn’t it just amazing when you think—”

“For a gay guy, isn’t it just amazing how
into sports he is?” Jacques interrupted in a loud whisper to
Elizabeth and Gretchen. “Good thing he can at least make a mean
baklava or all would be lost.”

Nick shot him a pitying look. “Don’t go all
stereotypical on me, man. The body is a
temple
.” He punched
Jacques’s small paunch. “And from what I’ve heard about Rob, he’s
got a body on him that makes everyone drool.”

“Is that true, Elizabeth?” Gretchen asked
her, one eyebrow cocked.

“I regret to inform you all that, yes, he’s
the epitome of ‘hot.’ I refuse to be witness to any drooling,
however.”

“I won’t drool,” Jacques promised.

“I make no such vows,” Nick said, hip-hopping
around the tiles. “So, I hope I’m on lots of shifts with him.” He
checked his watch. “Damn. Ten after ten. When will he get
here?”

“Look, I don’t know,” Elizabeth said, the
nervousness rising like soda fizz inside her. “The only thing I’m
certain of is that I will never get done with my draft of
Perfect Pastries, Pralines and Parfaits
if I have to spend
an entire five hours per day in this shop. Aside from not getting
the features and recipes finished, I’ll probably gain back all the
weight I lost eight years ago. Some of us—” she tossed Nick her
most evil look, “are not natural athletes. Three half-hour sessions
of
X-treme Abs and Thighs
is all I can handle each week. No
way am I doing more just because I can’t resist ice cream and
éclairs.”

“It’s all right,
chéri
,” Jacques said,
patting her arm. “We all know how you’re trying to help us by
featuring our specialties in your cookbook. We’re here to help you,
too.”

Gretchen and Nick both nodded, and Elizabeth
felt the familiar tightness in her throat, but this time it was
because of the affection she felt radiating from her friends. They
choked her up and left her buoyant. They made her feel as though
she could handle this enormous responsibility. And she wouldn’t
freeze the next time she had to talk to Rob. No! She’d be cool,
like ice cream, and smooth and—

“Hi, everyone,” Rob said, surprising them by
entering through the backroom door. “Sorry I’m late, but I picked
up bagels and coffee for all of us.” He deposited his goody bags on
one of the tables and managed to elicit Oohs and Aahs from her
cadre of helpers. The traitors.

Her friends introduced themselves to Rob and
then quickly turned their attention to the treats. As they spread
strawberry cream cheese on their cinnamon-raisin bagels and
doctored their coffees to their liking, she watched Rob watching
them, and she realized she hadn’t heard the backdoor bang before he
entered. Had he just gotten here? Or had he been here already,
lying in wait, listening to them? Had he overheard their discussion
of his ‘hot’ body?

The possibility of this made her blush, and
she suddenly wished she hadn’t given him his own set of keys to the
shop yesterday in her panic. Then he wouldn’t have been able to
sneak up on them today.

“Good morning,
Elizabeth
,” he said,
speaking her name with noticeable deliberateness. “And how are you
doing on this bright Friday?”

“F-F-F—”
Oh, hell!
“F-Fine.” She
gestured an “And you?” with her nearest hand.

“Long night, last night, to tell you the
truth,” he said. “Kind of stressful, actually. I locked up the shop
about a half hour after you left. Spent some time with my family.
Dinner. Discussions. More discussions…”

She couldn’t help but notice the way he eyed
her every move while he spoke. Goodness, what was he looking for?
Did he think she had any connection to his family? She barely knew
them.

“What did you do last night?” he said.

“I-I—” She made a scribbling motion in the
air but Nick took this opportunity to jump right into their
conversation. Bless him.

“Oh, man, she’s an awesome writer. She’s only
twenty-seven and she’s co-written a couple of books and gotten a
three-book contract for her own dessert cookbook series.” Nick
turned to her. “I know your deadline’s during the summer, but
when’s the publication date for book one? Thanksgiving?”

For a reason she wasn’t able to analyze, her
voice unfroze. “No, just before Christmas. The s-second book is
supposed to be released b-by Thanksgiving next year.”

“That’s right,” Nick said. “And the third one
around Halloween of the year after.”

“And the first one is going to be
fantastique
,” Jacques added, “because my éclairs will grace
the cover of the pastries section.”

“His are long,” Nick said appreciatively.

And Gretchen laughed, which made Elizabeth
laugh, which made Rob look at them all like they were more than a
little psycho.

“So, we should get organized here,” Gretchen
said. “Elizabeth needs to get a lot of work done, and all of us
have other part-time jobs to return to. Who’s got the opening shift
today?”

Rob pulled out the schedule Elizabeth had
scrawled on the notebook paper yesterday. “Looks like Elizabeth and
Gretchen are on the docket for round one. But—” He waved the page
in the air before dropping it and letting it float to the
tabletop.

“But what?” Jacques asked.

“But it seems to be in all of your best
interests to have Elizabeth concentrate her time on finishing this
cookbook. Isn’t that right?” Rob said, scanning their faces as he
spoke.

“Oh, absolutely,” Gretchen agreed
heartily.

“You bet, man,” Nick said.

Jacques squinted at Rob. “But of course. This
is why we’re here. This is what friends are for.”

Rob gulped down some coffee and turned his
gaze fully on Elizabeth. “And your having to work these extra
shifts is dramatically cutting in to your writing time, right?”

“R-R-Right, but—” she began.

“Well, how about I take over your shifts,”
Rob said. “I could handle them, too, if…”

“Oh, no. That’s not fair to you. I-I’m
willing to work—”

“Let the man speak, Elizabeth,” Nick said.
“My baklava is being featured on page sixty-five. I’m protective of
this book.”

She glanced at Gretchen, who winked
unhelpfully.

They all turned their eyes to Rob, but
Elizabeth sensed his offer of help wasn’t quite as altruistic as it
seemed.

“Here’s the thing,” he said. “I can see
you’re signed up for the first two shifts today, Elizabeth, first
with Gretchen from ten to twelve-thirty, and then with Jacques,
twelve-thirty to three. If I take over both of those, would you be
able to help me for just two and a half hours tonight instead?”

“S-Sure. You mean do the closing shift for
you, from eight to ten-thirty?” This she could handle. It would be
like her schedule before Uncle Siegfried left, with only half the
time away from her computer screen. And Rob would, obviously, be
somewhere else. Nighttime party plans, no doubt.

“Not exactly,” Rob said. “I can still do the
mid-afternoon and late-evening shifts you assigned me as well. What
I need from you is the time between five-thirty and eight. I need
you to come to dinner with me.” He paused. “At my mother’s
house.”

CHAPTER THREE

“W-What?”

Rob took in Lizzy’s—no—
Elizabeth’s
stunned expression, but if a little trickery was required to get
Mama off his case, he wasn’t too proud to stoop to it. Last night
had been an evening of enjoyment right up there with a toasty visit
to Hades. He had no intention of repeating it. Ever.

“That seems like a more than fair trade,” the
young guy Nick said to her.

The Frenchman nodded his approval.

Only the blonde looked dubious.

As for Elizabeth, she opened her mouth
several times but not a single word emerged after that first
“What?” This surprised him. Here was, after all, the woman who
apparently could talk up a firestorm without stuttering when among
her friends…

He grimaced. So she thought he had a hot
body, huh? Wasn’t that always the case with the Wilmington Bay
crowd? Rob the Hunk. Rob the High-School Football Star. Rob the
Popular Guy. Just about anything but Rob the Intelligent. Hell,
he’d even settle for Rob the Occasionally Bright. But it was always
about his body and his face, never about his mind.

Which hurt sometimes. Especially when he was
trying to talk to a woman as smart as Elizabeth Daniels.

“So, what do you say?” he asked her. “Do we
have a deal?”

“I-I—”

“Of course you do,” Nick said for her. “Why
don’t you leave right now, Elizabeth, and get back to typing?”

The blonde started to speak, but Elizabeth
stopped her. The ladies did some eye-contact thing and Gretchen
said, “Elizabeth?”

Elizabeth said, “B-B-Bye e-everyone.” She
waved and headed for the door. Always one for abrupt
departures.

“Pick you up here at five-thirty sharp,” he
called after her. She shot him a worried parting glance, but she
nodded.

“L-Later,” she said, but he wasn’t sure if
she was talking to him or addressing Team Tutti-Frutti.

The moment she was out the door, Gretchen
started whispering to Jacques rapidly and, it seemed, in code
because he couldn’t figure out from their words why Gretchen was
acting so panicky. He might’ve gone ahead and asked her if their
first customer of the day hadn’t shown up.

“Roberto Gabinarri? Is that really you?” his
mother’s favorite hairstylist said. “Just look at how you’ve grown
up. Such a fine young man.” She sparkled at him and, yes, actually
pinched his cheek.

He heard Nick stifle a laugh before the
Frenchman said to him, “C’mon, Nick. It’s Gretchen and Rob’s shift
now. You promised to help me with the Grand Marnier tortes.”

“Okay,” he said to Jacques. “Need to be at
Jason’s Joint in two hours, though.” Then, to Rob, “See you later,
man. I’ve got some football questions for you this afternoon.”

“All right,” he said, turning his attention
back to Mama’s hairstylist and to Gretchen, who lobbed an ice cream
scoop at him, and none too gently either.

***

Elizabeth stared at her iMac’s blue screen,
heaved in gulps of air (in an unsuccessful attempt to prevent
hyperventilation) and mentally retraced the past half hour for
evidence of personal psychosis. Dinner with his
family?
Good
heavens, how could she have let that happen?

Her cell phone rang. Gretchen.

“Oh, God, Elizabeth! I’m so sorry I couldn’t
stop it. I’m going to wring Nick’s neck later. There’s no way you
have to go through with this. We’ll think of something to get you
out of—”

“Where are you?” Elizabeth asked her. “I
thought you were working this shift?”

“I am,” her friend said. “I told the Hot
Calzone that I needed a bathroom break. Look,” she said, lowering
her voice, “I can see why you get tongue-tied around him. He’s
pin-up-boy gorgeous.”

Elizabeth groaned. “He’s a scheming
deviant.”

“That, too,” Gretchen said.

“And he wants something—something more than a
live body to take along to dinner at his mother’s house—b-but I
don’t know what it is yet.”

“We’ll find out.” She paused. “Elizabeth, I
know this all has you rattled, but there’s no reason we can’t come
up with some excuse for you to skip tonight. People get sudden
cases of the measles or rheumatic fever or Asiatic flu or…or
elephantiasis without warning, all the time probably.”

“
Elephantiasis?”

“Or something,” Gretchen insisted. “My point
is, you can come down with a contagious disease almost immediately.
I can ring up my brother and ask him to give me a list of really
vile-sounding symptoms. In fact, he’s on call at St. Andrew’s right
now and I’ll bet he knows—”

Elizabeth sighed. “Thanks, Gretchen, but you
know I can’t.”

“Why not? Rob tricked you. That’s…that’s
entrapment. And, anyway, Nick was the one who said yes for you. You
didn’t say anything. You never actually agreed.”

“Quite true, literally, but my silence was my
agreement. And I nodded. And I left. Not staying to work my shift
confirmed my acceptance of the terms of his deal, however bizarre.
So, even if this means long years of psychotherapy are in my
future, I do have to go tonight. But just tonight.” Unless…did Rob
mean for this to last longer than one night? The very thought made
her shudder.

“But Eliz—”

“Look, you know I need the writing time,
Gretchen. For all of our sakes.”

“Damn. That’s the real reason you did this,
isn’t it? You agreed for
us
. That’s why you didn’t say
anything to him.”

“I didn’t say anything to him because my
throat closes up like the space inside a cream-filled donut
whenever I’m around him. And I need the cookbook to succeed as much
or more than you or Jacques or Nick do,” she said, which was the
truth. “I’ll be all right for an evening,” she added, which was a
monstrous lie.

There was a long pause. “Thanks,
Elizabeth.”

“You’re welcome. Now, I have to get back to
work, and so do you.” For good measure, Elizabeth made a few
clicking noises on her computer keyboard.