Sweet Dreams on Center Street (26 page)

She frowned at him and moved away, reclaiming the mike and her
dignity. “Thanks, Brandon,” she said, dismissing him. “And now we're down to the
final contestant. Joe Coyote.”

Joe limped out on stage, and Lauren and the rest of her posse
hooted and clapped. Even though an accident on the job had taken him out of
construction, he'd kept his construction-worker body. Caramel-colored skin and
midnight-black hair added to his charm. From a distance it was hard to see the
scar that marred an otherwise pleasant face.

“So, Joe, why should you be our first Mr. Dreamy?” Bailey
greeted him.

He shrugged. “I don't know that I should.”

“Yes, you should!” Lauren called from three rows back, and her
friends all clapped.

“If you don't think you should be our first Mr. Dreamy, then
why did you enter?” Bailey asked.

Some of the men had been lured by the prizes or they'd entered
on a dare or, like poor Joe, who resembled a deer that had wandered into a
hunter's campsite, because their girlfriends had suckered them into it.

“Well, Lauren asked me to,” he said, looking over to where she
sat, “and I'd do anything for her.”

Sentimental sighs rose from the audience. Then clapping. And
then Joe got a standing O.

“There's our Mr. Dreamy,” Cass said.

Obviously.

Mr. Dreamy was duly crowned and the two runners-up, Enrico
Vargas, one of Icicle Falls' finest, and Brandon Wallace, ski bum, each received
a free month at Bruisers Fitness Center—rather a joke, considering the fact that
both men were already members. The contest over, attendees and contestants
mingled and slowly drifted out of the hall to take the party over to Zelda's or
Italian Alps Pizza. Or, in the case of many of the couples, somewhere more
private.

“I'd say this is definitely going to become a yearly
tradition,” Cass said, complimenting Samantha.

“We just might make it one,” Samantha agreed. If everything
else turned out to be as successful and as popular this weekend, she was going
to be a happy woman.

“Anybody want to go get pizza?” Cass asked.

“Yes,” Cecily said. “I'm starving.”

What else was new? How her sister kept from weighing two
hundred pounds was a mystery to Samantha.

“Are you up for getting some pizza?” Cecily asked Mom.

“I don't think so. You girls go on and have a good time.”

Mom's smile was looking strained now. How silly this must all
seem after grappling with death and loss.

“You sure?” Cass asked.

“Yes, I'm sure,” Mom said. “I'll see you later.” She kissed her
daughters and gave Cass a hug, then slipped past the remaining celebrants and
out the door.

The three women stood watching her. “It can't be easy, what
she's going through,” Cass said sadly. “Divorce, death, somehow we always end up
alone.”

“Not always.” Cecily frowned. “You shouldn't close yourself
off. I've got a feeling—”

Cass held up a hand. “Oh, no. I've heard about your feelings.
I'll pass, thanks.”

Cecily made a face and Samantha couldn't help chuckling.
“You're not in the business anymore, remember?”

“Yes, and now I remember why,” Cecily said. “I'll go get
Bailey.”

“Good idea.” Bailey was talking with a couple of women but
Brandon Wallace was moving toward her like a shark toward a pair of tempting
legs dangling in the water. She was relieved to see Cecily sweep their little
sister away. Safe from Jaws, for the moment, anyway.

The pizza place was already filling up when they arrived. The
aroma of garlic and oregano and tomato sauce that greeted Samantha had her taste
buds clamoring for instant gratification. She distracted herself by looking
around to see who was there. She waved at a few people she knew while waiting to
place her order, then began threading her way through the crowd to their table.
She was halfway there when she realized who was at the table next to theirs.

Oh, come on.
Yes, Icicle Falls was
a small town but really, did she have to keep running into Blake the Snake
everywhere she went?

Chapter Twenty-Two

A woman can go through life just fine denying some things (like
the fact that she's aging or that she's gained weight), but she won't have a
life worth living if she denies love.

—Muriel Sterling,
Knowing Who You Are:
One Woman's Journey

W
hy hadn't she seen Blake when she first
came in? Then she could have gone right back out.
I'll just
walk past and pretend I don't see him,
Samantha decided. Which was,
of course, ridiculous since she'd have to be blind not to. There he sat, big as
life, sharing a pizza with Jimmy Robinson, the produce manager from Safeway, and
Tennessee transplant Bubba Swank, who owned Big Brats, a favorite lunch haunt of
both locals and tourists.

Still, the last thing she wanted was to talk to him. She was
almost at his table and picking up her pace, determined to speed right past,
when he called her name. Okay, so she would be blind
and
deaf.

But was that smart business? This man's bank held the note on
her company. It was in her best interests to remove her porcupine suit and play
nice, something she should have done from the beginning. Ugh.

He stood politely, a wall of muscle hiding under jeans and a
sweater. If he'd been up onstage in Festival Hall tonight, she'd have seen him
without his shirt.

You don't care about seeing him out of his
shirt,
she reminded herself,
you just want him
out of your hair.

She said a well-mannered hello to his pals, wished all three of
them
bon appétit
and was ready to move on.

Before she could, Blake said, “I hear your contest was a
success. Congratulations.”

She donned a smile even Cecily the diplomat couldn't top. It
wasn't an easy fit. “Thanks. I'm sure all our other events will do as well.
We've already brought in a big chunk of money and I expect to make a lot more
before the weekend is over.”

It probably wouldn't be enough to pay off what they owed, but
surely it would be enough to melt his hard heart and convince him and his evil
boss to work with her. After all, wasn't that what business was about, people
working together? Banks worked with Donald Trump all the time and he was the
king of credit.

“I hope you make a fortune,” Blake said.

She raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Do you? Really?”

“Of course. Believe me, I don't like the position we're in any
more than you do.”

“Well, that's comforting to know,” she said, and moved away.
Hypocrite.

“That looked like a fairly calm encounter,” Cecily commented as
she sat down at the table.

“It was,” Samantha said. “I can be diplomatic.” Sort of.

“I wouldn't mind having diplomatic relations with him,” Cass
said.

Cecily shook her head in mock disgust. “Dirty old woman.”

Cass shrugged. “What can I say? Seeing all that beefcake
tonight gave me an appetite.”

“I bet Cecily could find you someone,” said Bailey, who'd
missed their earlier conversation.

“I really don't want a someone,” Cass said. “I already have
enough aggravation just dealing with my ex-someone.”

“But don't you get lonely?” Bailey asked. “Don't you ever feel
the urge to merge?”

“Yes, but all I have to do to lose it is think about Mason,”
Cass replied.

The conversation turned in a new direction, but Samantha was
still stuck on the corner of Urge and Merge. What would it be like to meet Blake
Preston on that corner?

Oh, no. Not going there. Not now, not
ever.

* * *

Downtown Icicle Falls on Saturday was a mob scene, with
people spilling out of shops and restaurants and perusing vendor booths.
Children darted through the crowd, clutching elephant ears and cotton candy.
Lots of people clustered around the Bavarian Brews booth, which was selling hot
chocolate and doing a brisk business, and Cass's booth was selling out of cookie
jewelry and cupcakes.

But Cecily was happy to see that the busiest booth of all was
the Street Dreams one. Celebrants were lined up to purchase
white-chocolate-dipped apples, chocolate mint candy bars and their little pink
four-seater boxes of chocolate heaven. And of course, to meet Mr. Dreamy, who
was posing for pictures, mostly with middle-aged women.

Joe appeared about as comfortable as a man buying tampons for
his wife when one woman asked him to pretend he was feeding her a chocolate, but
he obliged. Of course, that opened the floodgates of inspiration and soon Joe
was kissing wrinkled cheeks and picking up women and posing like he was a caped
superhero about to fly off with them while the cameras snapped.

Cecily watched him struggle to lift one portly customer. Poor
Joe. She hoped he didn't get a hernia. And if he did, she hoped he wouldn't send
the medical bills to Sweet Dreams. Samantha would kill her.

Samantha didn't look ready to kill anybody today, though. She
was smiling, chatting up the customers as she took their money.

She and Bailey were running the booth for the morning shift,
along with Elena, who had offered to pitch in. Cecily and Mom would take over in
the afternoon while Bailey took charge of the chocolate tea at Olivia's B and B.
Then, that evening, they'd all be at the chocolate dinner and ball.

Samantha had seen her now and waved, and Cecily went to the
side of the booth to check in.

“How does the hall look?” Samantha asked.

“Gorgeous, I can hardly imagine how stunning it's going to be
once all the candles are lit.”

“So it's all done?”

“Almost. Mom's gone home and I just left Kevin putting the
final touches on the centerpieces.”

“Great.”

Bailey handed white-chocolate apples to two teenage girls.
“Enjoy,” she told them. They didn't waste time replying, just bit into their
apples and wandered off. “Awesome, isn't it?” she said to Cecily, indicating the
milling crowd.

Cecily nodded. “I'd say we've got a hit on our hands.”

“We're going to need more apples,” Bailey said.

“I can't believe we're almost out. Guess we should've doubled
production on those yesterday.” Samantha looked speculatively at Cecily and
Cecily knew what was coming. “Can you get some more apples and run over to the
kitchen and make another three dozen?”

Cecily had hoped to take a few minutes to check out the booths
before coming on duty, but she nodded and said, “No problem.” This was an
all-hands-on-deck weekend, after all.

“I can help,” said a deep voice behind her.

She turned to see Luke Goodman standing there with his
daughter. Little Serena was bundled up in leggings and a skirt topped with a
pink parka with faux-fur trim. She looked like a cross between a snow baby and
the Sugar Plum Fairy. In short, she looked adorable. Her dad didn't look so bad
himself in his jeans, flannel shirt and winter jacket.

“Hi,” Cecily said. “Are you having fun?” she asked Serena.

The child nodded. “We're getting chocolate apples, and I'm
going to a tea.”

“That does sound like fun.”

“And my daddy's going to a ball,” Serena continued. “He's going
to meet a princess.”

Luke's cheeks turned russet. “You never know.”

“Moonlight and magic,” Cecily quipped.

“So would you like some help with those apples?” he asked.

Unlike her type-A older sister and high-energy baby sister,
Cecily enjoyed stopping to breathe once in a while, and having some assistance
in the Sweet Dreams kitchen would have been nice. But she didn't want to pull
Luke away from his daughter, and she didn't want to give him the wrong idea that
she was interested in being anything more than friends. Cozy kitchen time
together could become a recipe for hurt feelings. Better to keep him at a
distance.

“That's okay, thanks. I can manage,” she said. “You guys have
fun.”

“Let's get our apples, Daddy,” Serena said, tugging on his arm,
the equivalent of a puppy trying to tow a mountain.

The mountain allowed himself to be moved but as he fished out
his wallet he asked, “How about saving me a dance tonight?”

It would have been rude to refuse. “Okay,” she said.

He was such a nice man. She should have been dying to dance
with him. What was wrong with her?

She was still pondering the question when she walked into the
Safeway produce department in search of Granny Smith apples. Surely if she gave
him half a chance, Luke could hit her zing-o-meter. He was probably a wonderful
kisser. He'd been married, after all, had a child, had to know what turned a
woman on.

It had been way too long since anyone had turned her on.

A male arm reached right out of her imagination and around her,
brushing hers in the process and hitting the old zing-o-meter, sending it
soaring.
Whoa, what was that?

Todd Black!

“Need some apples.” He held one up for her to see.

“You could have said something. I'd have moved.” What was he
doing here, intruding on her thoughts, playing with her zing-o-meter?

“I would have, but you were so intent on fondling the apples I
hated to interrupt.”

Okay, it was official now. Todd Black was the most irritating
man in Icicle Falls. She began randomly snatching apples and stuffing them in
her produce bag. “Well, I'll hurry up and get out of the way. It's obvious
you're anxious to have a turn.”

“Oh, no. I can wait. I'm a big believer in ladies first.”

“I doubt that,” she retorted.

“A little cranky, are we?” he teased. “Is all the stress of the
festival getting to you?”

“No.” Naturally, that had to come out all snippy-sounding.

“You sure? 'Cause you look stressed. There's no stress over at
my place and we'll be open all night.”

“Well, thanks for the offer,” she said, putting the apples in
her cart, “but I'll be at the chocolate ball tonight.”

“And anyone who's anyone will be there,” he finished
cynically.

“You could say that,” she said pleasantly, refusing to rise to
the bait.

“Well, Cinderella, don't lose anything,” he said. He grabbed
another apple and took a bite.

“You haven't paid for that,” she pointed out.

“Play now, pay later.” He brought the apple to her mouth. “Go
on. You know you want to.”

She'd had enough of his smart mouth. “Bite me,” her evil twin
snapped.

“Anywhere you like,” he said as she wheeled her cart away.

* * *

Samantha was on an endorphin high as she and her sisters
made their way to the chocolate dinner at Zelda's. Only an hour ago she'd
dropped off a big chunk of cash in the night depository. They'd made a nice
bundle on the Mr. Dreamy pageant and their chocolate booth had been a huge
success and so had been the tea, according to Bailey.

“What's not to like about white-chocolate-lavender scones and
chocolate-dipped strawberries?” Bailey had said.

Indeed.

Now it was just the sisters. Mom had worked at the booth and
gone to the tea, but she'd sent them off to the dinner and ball without her,
claiming exhaustion. Samantha knew it was more a case of preferring to be home
with her memories than going out and watching other couples dancing.

Their schedule was too tight for them to go home and change
after dinner, so they were all in their evening wear. Samantha felt ridiculously
overdressed. “We look like prommies,” she said as they emerged from Cecily's car
in front of the restaurant.

“We look great,” Bailey corrected her.

Bailey was in borrowed finery, wearing a faux-fur coat over a
creamy off-the-shoulder number with satin roses that she'd accented with Mom's
pearls. Cecily was elegant in a midnight-blue designer gown she'd found at a
consignment store in L.A. Samantha's gown was a green taffeta creation with a
black netting underskirt that made her feel like the reincarnation of Scarlett
O'Hara. Her sisters had insisted on paying for it and she'd given in and
accepted when Cecily's old friend Ella had refused to accept her credit card.
“Sorry, Samantha, but your sisters win.”

“That's rare,” Cecily had joked. “This is a moment to go down
in history.”

Talk about a moment to go down in history, Samantha thought as
they entered the restaurant. This was one she would remember for years to
come.

Many of the other diners were also dressed to the nines,
obviously ready for a night of dancing. Samantha felt a swell of pride as she
looked around and saw the place packed with familiar faces, all smiling and
enjoying the success of their festival. They'd set out to do the impossible and
they'd succeeded.

“I love your dress,” said a woman who was in line in front of
them, waiting to be seated.

“Thanks,” Samantha murmured.

“All your dresses,” the woman went on, taking them in. “Are you
going to that chocolate ball I heard about?”

“As a matter of fact, we are,” Bailey said cheerfully.

“Wow,” said the woman. “You people really know how to do things
right.”

Samantha thanked her and filed that comment away to share with
her fellow Chamber of Commerce members when this was all over.

“Be sure to tell your friends,” Bailey said.

“Oh, I will,” the woman promised. “You're going to do this next
year, aren't you?”

“Absolutely,” Samantha said confidently. They'd had to scramble
to find their footing, but she knew, deep down, that they were firmly on the
road to success now.