Sweet on You (12 page)

Second option—without a doubt. She couldn't talk to Tony. She was afraid she might tell him about Daniela, and she wasn't sure how to handle that yet. So she grabbed the present for Valentine, left her cell phone, and walked out of the house.

It hadn't occurred to her that Valentine might not be in her office until she was halfway there, but she shouldn't have worried, because the matchmaker sat on her gilded couch, fiddling with her iPhone.

Valentine looked up with a bright smile as Marley walked in. "I was just thinking about you. You saved me a phone call."

"Did you need something?"

"I just wondered how you were doing." She wrinkled her nose. "What do you have in your hand?"

"Oh." Marley looked down at the package, suddenly having doubts. "It's not really anything. I just thought you might like it, but—"

"I love gifts. Let me see." Valentine held her hand out.

She handed it over reluctantly. "It's really nothing great. In fact, it's not that nice."

"Let me be the judge of that." She ripped off the wrapping, tossing the shredded pieces of paper all over so that Marley started to bend over to pick them up.

Until Valentine's gasp startled her back upright. "What is it?"

"This. Is.
Amazing
." Valentine stared at the framed photo, her big eyes wider than usual.

Some of her nerves receded, and Marley sat down on the uncomfortable chair across from the matchmaker. "It's not the best composition, but I thought you looked nice in it."

"Nice? I look
awesome
." Valentine stared at the photo. It was the one Marley took that day when she'd been in answering those random questions that had matched her up with Brian Benedict.

Who was plaguing her, by the way. Marley shifted on the seat, uncomfortable and not sure what to do—about her butt or the guy. "It's really not anything—"

"It's the best picture anyone's ever taken of me." Valentine hugged it to her chest, beaming. "I wish I had a boyfriend to give it to."

"You don't have a boyfriend?"

"It's like the cobbler's kids not having shoes." She set the framed picture on the coffee table in front of her. "I don't have time to look for myself. I'm trying to get my business off the ground. Which is why I'm glad you're here. Tell me about Brian."

Marley crossed her arms. "What about him?"

"Brian told me that you guys were going out but not dating."

"Does that violate the terms of my agreement with you?"

"I don't care about our agreement," Valentine said in her schoolmarm's voice. "I care about you messing this up with Brian. He's the perfect guy for you."

But she'd always thought Tony was The One. "How can you tell?"

"What are you talking about?" She shook her head. "How can you not tell?"

"I've always wanted Batman."

The redhead gaped at her.

Marley blushed. "I know it's ridiculous, but I've always had a thing for Batman. I
dream
about him. He bursts through my window and coaxes me out into the night, taking me on adventures through the city."

Leaning in, Valentine said, "You know Batman is fictional, right? He doesn't really exist."

No, but Tony did, and usually in her dreams, it was Tony in the batsuit.

Until last night. Last night, she dreamt about Brian Benedict.

"Okay, Marley, let's just get this straight." She leaned in. "I match people up for a living. It's what I do best, so when I say you and Brian are perfect together, I don't mean it lightly."

"But I'm in love with someone else."

"What?" Valentine's face screwed up. "Who? Batman?"

"No." She tried to think of how to describe Tony. "Someone I used to know in New York."

"Why didn't you tell me? Does he love you?"

Only when she wrangled Daniela in the direction he wanted. She shrugged. "We've never had any conversation discussing that."

Valentine deflated with relief. "Okay, then."

"I told Brian, too. He knows I have feelings for someone else."

"He does? So you two have never kissed?"

She flushed instantly.

Valentine waved at her face. "What does that guilty expression mean?"

"We may have kissed." She rushed on to say, "But it was just friendly."

"Really."

"Did Brian tell you something different?"

"He didn't tell me about any kiss."

Damn it. She made a face or something. "That's because it was no big deal."

"Sort of like friendly fire that isn't a big deal?" Valentine stared at her for a long, silent moment. Then she leaned forward. "Just to clarify one more time, you realize I'm a matchmaker, right? I hook people up for a living."

"Yes." Now wasn't the time to point out that Valentine had enlisted her because she'd needed help in growing her business.

"So when I say you and Brian would be good together, it shouldn't be taken lightly. I put some thought into it, and you guys would be terrific together."

"Why?" she asked impulsively.

"Why?" Valentine blinked at her. "Was the kiss awful?"

The kiss was pretty damn terrific, but she didn't think she should arm the matchmaker with ammunition. "It was fine."

Valentine narrowed her eyes, as if trying to see within her. Finally she said, "You need to respect my skills. I wouldn't have paired you up with a loser. I have too much at stake here. So if you have any interest in yourself, it'd behoove you to take this seriously and go out with Brian on a real date."

Marley blinked in shock. She didn't want to date Brian Benedict—not entirely, anyway. Part of her clung to the idea of Tony. She thought about him, recalling his eyes. They were a beautiful gray-blue—

No—Brian's eyes were gray. Tony had brown eyes, like Daniela.

She wanted to slap her forehead.

Valentine sat back, folding her hands properly in her lap, seemingly innocent. But her expression gave away the unyielding
adamantium
underneath. "Don't screw this up. It could be the best thing that ever happened to you."

Marley wasn't sure about that. The problem was, she couldn't argue against it either.

Chapter Sixteen

Tying the last ribbon on the last present, Daniela sat crossed-legged on the living room floor and looked at her handiwork with satisfaction. The pile of brightly wrapped boxes was impressive. She figured she'd gone a little overboard, buying things for her homeless family. But most of the items were useful—underwear and warm layers. The only frivolous items were a doll and a football. She hadn't been able to help herself.

She couldn't wait to deliver everything. If only she could be there to watch them open the presents.

Her phone rang. That was all it ever did these days. It seemed like she was constantly answering someone's call.

Who would it be this time? Sophie Martineau again, begging her for a birthday cake? Her brother? Someone else wanting a piece of her? Dispassionately, she glanced at the screen.

Ken, her real estate person. Perking up, she answered. "Tell me my contract is in the mail."

"That's exactly why I'm calling." He paused.

His silence didn't bode well. "What happened?"

"There's a hold up on the other end. I'm trying to unravel what's taking so long."

"There's no problem, is there?"

"No. Ludlow's real estate agent hasn't returned my calls. He's probably out of town. He's an avid skier. He has a ski house in Tahoe, and he goes up there as often as he can."

"You don't sound certain," she said, standing up. "I can hear the doubt in your voice."

"Any delay bothers me, but especially in this case, since Cruz Enterprises expressed such a strong desire for the Harrison building as well."

"Don't worry about Cruz Enterprises." Nico could desire the building all he wanted, but she'd gotten Chris Ludlow's word, and she knew the man would honor it. His wife wouldn't let him live it down, otherwise.

"I don't know how you can be so sure," Ken was saying, "but I'll trust you."

"Just work on getting the paperwork finalized," she told him.

"Will do. I'll hopefully call you with good news soon."

"Thanks, Ken." As she hung up another call came in—Tony.

She did
not
want to talk to her brother. Except in ending the call with Ken and trying to ignore Tony, she pressed the wrong button and accepted his call.

Damn it
. She glared at his cocky smile on her screen and put the phone to her ear. "I don't want to talk to you."

"That's too bad, because you have to."

Her hackles rose. "I don't have to do anything," she retorted, knowing she sounded like herself at twelve and not caring.

"Stop acting like a child and listen, Daniela. We have business to discuss."

"No."

He heaved a sighed. Then, in a pseudo-calm voice, he said, "I know you were overworked, but you've had several weeks of downtime to recuperate. It's time to get back into the game."

"It's Christmastime," she pointed out archly.

"So?"

She held the phone out and gaped at it. Then she returned it to her ear. "Who are you? Did you hear what you just said? I never work at Christmas."

"You did last year."

Last year she'd needed to work. Nonna had just died, and she'd been brokenhearted. It made her furious—and sad—that her brother didn't get that.

"And there's no reason not to work this year," he continued, oblivious. "You don't have any other plans."

"How would you know?"

"Do you?" he asked with exaggerated patience.

"I have
tons
of plans." She narrowed her eyes. "In fact, I'm buying a building."

"What building? To do what?"

"To open a soup kitchen."

"
What?
"

"And a homeless shelter," she added with grim delight.

"The hell you are."

"Oh, I really am, Antonio. I've got it all outlined. I'm going to offer housing and food, and even cooking classes," she added, proud. "To help people find a vocation and get back on their feet."

"You're
insane
." There was a scuffle of noise on the other end. "You aren't the type of person to direct this sort of operation. It requires organization and business skills."

"So?"

"So, you bake cookies."

She gasped. "You bastard."

"I didn't mean it like that, and you know it. You're excellent at what you do, and what you do is baking. You don't know the first thing about running a charity. For instance, how are you fundraising?"

"I'm not." She lifted her chin defiantly, even though he wasn't there to see it. "I have plenty of money on my own."

"See? That's what I'm talking about. That's just foolish." He paused and took a deep breath, as though trying to calm himself. "Listen to me, Daniela, starting a soup kitchen is the last thing you should be doing. You just don't have the skills."

She hung up, feeling her blood boiling in her veins. She began to pace, but it didn't help so she picked up a vase from the mantle and heaved it across the room. It hit the wall and shattered into a shower of tiny shards.

Marley rushed into the living room, out of breath and looking uncharacteristically disheveled. "What happened?"

"It slipped." Daniela shrugged. "At least it was empty."

"Hmm." Her assistant frowned at the mess on the floor. "I hope it's not me you're angry at."

"No, and I'm no longer angry at anyone." She flashed a grim smile. "I just needed to express."

Marley watched her cautiously. "Have you expressed it all out of your system, or do I need to be prepared to duck?"

"It's always good to be prepared." She tossed her hair over her shoulder and went to do that herself. She'd show Tony. She'd show everyone. She could accomplish anything she set her mind to doing—and that included outbidding a real estate mogul.

Chapter Seventeen

Her cell phone rang.

Marley didn't have to look at the screen to know who it was. Tony had been calling her almost nonstop the past day and a half.

Well,
nonstop
might have been an exaggeration. However, he had called more often than usual, as if sensing her failure in getting Daniela to accept the Food Network deal.

She hadn't told him yet, and she wasn't looking forward to it.

She winced as her phone trilled the Mission: Impossible theme that was his ringtone. The longer she delayed the inevitable, the angrier he'd be, so she bit the bullet and answered. "Hi, Tony."

"What's this business with Daniela buying a soup kitchen?" he asked without preamble.

"Soup kitchen? I have no idea what you're talking about," she said truthfully. "I thought you were calling about her refusing to do the Food Network show."

"I'm very disappointed, Marley. I expected better results from you."

It hit her right in the middle of her chest. Instantly, she was a four year old again, being scolded for spilling her milk, or forgetting to pick up her toys, or one of the other list of things that used to drive her mom crazy.

But she wasn't four years old anymore, she reminded herself. She had a voice, and she knew how to use it. "I've been trying to encourage Daniela to accept the gig, but she's been distracted with the guy she's been seeing—"

"
What
?" Tony roared.

Oh no
. Damn it. She squeezed her eyes shut. Why did she blurt that out? She hadn't meant to. She tried to backtrack. "I mean, I don't know that she's seeing anyone. I just assumed since she was going out a lot..."

Marley clamped a hand over her mouth. She wasn't helping the situation.

"She hasn't said anything to me about dating anyone. Only about buying some building to open a soup kitchen."

That
was what all the secret calculations and plotting were about. She nodded. Interesting idea. Completely crazy, since Daniela's organizational skills didn't extend beyond the kitchen, but interesting nonetheless.