Sex and Key Lime Pie (16 page)

Apparently the excitement was contagious. The children emptied the bench and crowded in the middle of the field. “What are they doing?”

“Celebrating,” Elisabeth said. “It’s tradition for them to empty the bench after the first goal of the season. Although it’s never come in the opening two minutes before.”

“It looks like a riot,” Cheyanne said.

“Just wait until further into the season. Then you’ll see real riots, but it will be among the parents.”

Cheyanne could well imagine. She’d seen many passionate outpourings at soccer matches in Europe where they took their football very seriously.

Sam emerged from the center. He waved to her. She sent him a thumbs-up. He didn’t look for her approval or support the rest of the game, despite two more goals and an assist. It was all about the team. He wasn’t her little baby, concerned solely with pleasing his mommy. Sam found the friends and family he had missed in his young life.

He had never given her a problem with moving. She might not get him to leave the Cove as easily. Hell, she didn’t know how to handle it herself.

Chapter Eleven

“Samuel, take your hairy strawberry thief this minute or I’ll turn him into chunky-monkey ice cream.”

Cheyanne’s humorous threat stopped Luc from walking into the house. When he’d learned she was staying, he figured his summer would be wild. Instead, he ended up in a zoo. Strangely, he didn’t mind.

“I’m taking him to the beach.” Sam burst through the screen door, stopped short and let out a startled gasp. After a long silence, he muttered, “Hello, Uncle Luc.”

“Sam, wait.” Cheyanne came to a dead halt behind him wearing the same shocked expression.

Red boxer shorts and a sleeveless tee, sport’s gear on any other woman, looked so damn sexy on her.

“You’re early,” she sputtered.

She was magnificent, despite, or perhaps because of, the smudge of flour across her blushing cheek. Even at her worst, she outshined any other woman. Did she smell of key limes or was his imagination out of control?

When she caught her breath, she handed a collar and leash to her son. “Keep a hold on him around strangers. And make sure you’re back before the company arrives.”

Was she having a party? When she hinted she would be alone Saturday night, he didn’t realize she meant late night. “I didn’t know you invited guests.”

She shook her head. “Then I guess you forgot you were one of those invited guests.”

Luc felt relieved and idiotic at the same time. Cheyanne had that effect on him. “I didn’t forget I was invited.”

She opened the door wider and motioned for him to come in. “Okay, genius. When did I invite you?” He arched his eyebrow. “Are you testing me?”

“If you forgot, I won’t be mad. This relationship might not be permanent, but I’d like it to be honest.”

Another reminder of their temporary affair. He shook his head. His desires had changed. He wanted permanence—as long as he didn’t have to make a commitment.

He slid his arms around her waist. “Okay, I forgot. In fact, I still don’t remember.”

“I asked you last week. You said you’d get back to me when you knew your schedule.”

Now he remembered. Not that he’d heard much after “I have an eight-year-old son” came out of her mouth. He couldn’t ever remember being speechless. Not even when he should have kept his mouth shut. “Is it too late to accept now?”

“A good thing I set a place for you.” He glanced at the dining room. Eight mismatched, yet surprisingly ornate settings topped two different tablecloths. Nothing in the beach house matched, but he felt more comfortable here than in his professionally decorated house in the Heights.

He captured her bottom lip in his teeth and sucked the sweet flesh. “It tastes like you made my favorite pie.”

“I made something with key limes, but not pie.” “Why tamper with perfection?”

“Eating the same dessert every day is like always having sex in the same position. I’m all for sticking with one basic flavor, but it’s much more satisfying to try different recipes.”

“All these cooking metaphors are making me hungry. How long will Sam be at the beach?”

“Could be an hour.” He grinned and slid his hand under her shirt. His thumb grazed her taut nipple. She closed her eyes and sighed, then clamped her fingers over his wrist. “Or, it could be five minutes. There’s no way to tell with a kid.”

Disappointment washed over him. She was still a torment. He should be immune by now. When they were younger, he literally counted the days until her eighteenth birthday. No matter how much she flirted, taunted or teased, he would not touch her while she was jailbait. That sexual frustration paled by comparison to what he felt now. “What time are the others coming?”

“Around five.”

“Maybe I’ll take the kids on the boat for an hour.”

Her eyes reflected the same disappointment he felt. “You don’t have to leave.”

“Yeah, that will work for me. I’ll sit over there with a painful hard-on and watch you concentrate on cooking.”

“Maybe you’re right about that.” She twisted against him. Did she have to look so pleased? “If it makes you feel any better, I’ll be very grateful later.”

“Damn straight, you will.”

****

The last Saturday before the Fourth of July meant the last free weekend of the summer for Tony. And from the way Isabelle looked, the last pregnant weekend for her as well. She leaned back in the plush pillows of Cheyanne’s sofa and leafed through the laminated pages of a notebook. Really, she could call it a bible of small hotel and restaurant management. It contained different sections on types of restaurants, running a Bed & Breakfast, catering for large and small affairs, and even table settings for parties ranging from baby showers to formal weddings. Cheyanne had even used the dining table to show how small accessories could create six different looks from one basic table setting.

The manual incorporated pages of research Tony had collected from the Internet. Every restaurant within a twenty-five-mile radius of the township was categorized by menu, price range and banquet facilities. All motels, hotels, and points of interest were listed in terms of age, attractions and historical significance.

“This is unbelievable,” Isabelle said. After looking at the possibilities, she joined in Tony’s obsessive dream of a European style restaurant and guesthouse.

Cheyanne stood behind the sofa, flipping pages over Isabelle’s shoulder. “It’s a great time, and a growing location. Besides your brother’s company, there are two major industrial parks within the township. Condos and housing developments are going up everywhere. And a burgeoning tourist trade for visitors who are priced out of Newport and Providence.”

“I can’t wait to start,” Tony said.

“We have to get through next week’s menu first.” She served Isabelle a drink in a coconut shell. “No alcohol?”

“Do you think I’d forget?” Cheyanne rubbed her hand over the baby. “Oh, the little soccer player kicked. He’s ready to come out. Are you sure Sam isn’t going to be too much for you tonight?”

“Not at all. Sit for a few minutes. Even if Luc brings the kids back on time, we can always count on Lizzy to be late.”

Cheyanne sat cross-legged on the arm of the sofa. A quiet peace replaced the initial anxiety that surrounded her return. She was part of the family again. Plans for the new restaurant filled her with excitement. As teenagers they’d discussed music, politics and, of course, men, with passion. Who would have thought ten years later that conversations like batter dipped versus breaded or baked versus fried, could cause such heated debate?

When Elisabeth and Miguel arrived, the conversation continued, but they must have thought they’d stepped into the Twilight Zone. Cheyanne and Tony ruminated about a place that only existed in their minds.

“Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out,” Elisabeth said with a smile that didn’t quite reach her sad eyes. Lately she’d been quiet and withdrawn as well. Once Isabelle popped her baby, they needed a serious girl’s night out. “Save me a table for opening night.”

Cheyanne passed a plate of hors d’oeuvres. “You can get off your throne, Queen Elisabeth,” she joked. “You’re not getting out of this family project. You want a house table, you’ll have to earn it.”

“It’s not like I have any expertise in the restaurant field.”

“What about the guest suites? Someone has to advise on style and decor.”

“You can do that as well as I.”

Cheyanne held up the notebook and laughed. “Right. That’s why my pictures came out of the J.C.Penny catalogue. Anyone can take a lot of money and throw it at a room. It will look elegant. But everyone’s afraid to sit on the furniture. Trust me, that’s how I felt in Harlan’s house. But compare it to your house. Everything about it says ‘welcome,’ which is exactly the look that is needed when designing a guest suite.”

“Really?” Elisabeth beamed as if a light turned on in her heart. “Well, I suppose I could come up with some ideas.” Tony raised his beer in a mock toast. “Well, before we can start decorating, we need to find the place.”

Cheyanne came to her feet. “Actually, I had an idea about that. I’m not sure if the property is for sale, but it’s empty right now. It’s a mess so you’d probably get it for a steal.” She paced the room as if visualizing details. “But just imagine twenty cozy cottages surrounding restaurant and banquet facilities.”

“Where?” Tony asked.

“You can’t laugh. Like I said, you really need to use your imagination.”

“Where, Cheyanne?”

“Camp Wah-ta-wah.” They looked among each other then burst out laughing. She fell back into a chair with a huff. “Good thing my life didn’t depend on my friends following instructions. I know it needs work, but the property is cleared and the sewer and power lines are already there.”

“We’re not laughing at you.” Isabelle assured her. “Luc owns it. It used to be part of the factory’s property, but the new owners didn’t want the tax liability of the land, so they deeded it back to him for the cost of the legal fees.”

“Maybe if you make him your famous key lime pie, he’ll sell it to us cheap,” Tony suggested.

Elisabeth batted her eyelashes. “Maybe if you hand feed him, he’ll give it to them for free.”

Cheyanne hurled a pillow across the room, hitting her friend head on. “You overestimate my bargaining powers with Luc.”

“Where my brother is concerned, you underestimate the power of that pie,” Isabelle said as a last word on the subject.

****

Dinner was a relaxing gathering of food, family, and fun. Through the air of anticipation, a kind of shared joke among the others left Luc wondering what he missed. So after dinner, when Tony said he needed to speak with him, Luc had no idea what to expect. Particularly when the others decided to take a stroll to the beach. His conversation turned out to be the shortest in the history of negotiations.

Five minutes later he joined Miguel on the dock. “Did you tell Tony you’d give him the property?”

Luc pushed his hands into his pockets. “I couldn’t. I don’t own it.”

“You sold it already?”

“No. I put it in Isabelle’s name at the closing. I figured it was a long term investment for her kids.” At the time, he hadn’t considered she would want to use the land. He thought it appropriate to deed her ownership of the place that had employed her when she was younger the same way he bought the factory that had employed him. Had Cheyanne thought about that particular piece of property for the same reason?

“Does she know?”

He glanced at Tony and Isabelle on one of the wharf benches. “I’d say she does now.”

Between pregnancy and excitement, his sister glowed. She deserved it. Most people credited Luc with supporting his mother and sister. In fact, Isabelle was responsible for keeping the family together. Between a loving but helpless mother, a drunken father, and a perpetually angry brother, she hadn’t had much of a childhood. After their mother died, her father’s drinking got even worse. Luc wondered if she would have survived high school with her gentle nature intact if not for the protection of her friend. He’d made her home life bearable but Cheyanne insulated Isabelle from the cruelty of peers.

His gaze shifted to Cheyanne as she played catch with Elisabeth and the monkey. So spontaneous, so uninhibited, she lived life like she made love.

“You screw this up again and I swear, I’ll kick the shit out of you myself,” Miguel warned.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Luc said.

“Yes, you do.”

“She’s leaving at the end of the summer.” She’d made that point often enough.

“Then give her a reason to stay. Try courting her for once. Take her on a date. Buy her flowers. Tell her she’s pretty without looking to get laid. Your problem is she’s always made it too easy on you.”

Luc cocked an eyebrow. “Is that my problem?” “One of many.”

He nodded toward the beach where the two children tried to engage Cheyanne and Elisabeth in a game of soccer. If anyone would call it soccer. Their beauty and grace did not translate into athletic prowess. “Did you happen to notice there’s another person involved?”