Sweet on You (7 page)

So did she. She grinned. "Game on, then."

Chapter Nine

Marley sat in her office, cell phone in hand, wondering where Daniela was. She wasn't answering her phone, and she was nowhere in the house. Although if she'd been hiding in a cranny somewhere, it'd have taken Marley days to find her, the house was so big.

Something was obviously up with her boss. She wished she knew what it was.

Her phone buzzed with a text. She glanced down, her heart leaping when she saw it was from Tony.
Any progresss with D?

She turned the screen off.

Then her phone rang.

She jumped, blinking at it. She wouldn't be surprised if Tony had sensed she was ignoring him. He wouldn't stand for that sort of treatment.

But when she looked at the caller ID it wasn't Tony. It was Brian Benedict.

Should she answer it?

Her head said no, but a small corner of her heart goaded her into picking up the phone. "What do you want?" she asked without preamble.

"Another date," he said, apparently unfazed by her rudeness. "What are you doing right now?"

"I'm working." She looked at the time. "That's usually what people do at eleven-thirty in the morning."

"No, they're usually checking Facebook and thinking about what they'd like to eat for lunch. So what's it going to be?"

"What?"

"Lunch."

She shook her head. "What are you saying?"

"Have lunch with me."

"No," she said automatically.

"Why not? I already know you eat, and you can't tell me you're working."

"Why can't I?"

"Because you're talking to me. Unless you have some sort of incredible concentration splitting abilities, you wouldn't be able to divide your attention between the two. Of course," he continued, "I have no idea what sort of job you have. For all I know, you're carving out hearts while you talk on your Bluetooth headset."

She couldn't help smiling at that image. "Maybe."

"I was hoping to ask you all those things at lunch today, because our introductory meeting didn't cover the usual essentials. My curiosity is burning so bright that I'm even willing to come to Laurel Heights to pick you up."

"No," she said again, less forcefully this time.

He chuckled. "I'm wearing you down."

"Look, Brian Benedict, your persistence is flattering, but you're wasting your time. I already told you I've met the right man for me."

He was silent on the other end of the line. For a second, she thought she'd won the argument and he was going to go away, which made her oddly disappointed. But then he said, "Don't you need another friend?"

"Friend?"

"You say that like it's a foreign concept. Didn't you just move here? You must need friends."

She had so few friends in New York that it hadn't occurred to her. She'd always been a loner, preferring comic book heroes to real people. They were flawed, but in the end they came through. You couldn't say that about real people.

"Come on, Marley. Just one lunch. If you don't have fun, you don't have to see me ever again. Your obligation to Valentine is already met."

"I—"

"Excellent!" he exclaimed. "Meet me at the corner of Sacramento and Laurel in fifteen."

Before she could say no, he hung up.

"Damn it." She turned her phone off and faced Wonder Woman. "He's determined, I'll give him that."

She played it cool, answering a couple emails and adding a few things to her calendar, before she got up and went to her bathroom, smoothing back her hair and touching up her lipstick.

Even with the little bit of color on her lips, she wondered if she looked too somber, dressed in all black. Brian had thought so last time.

Did she care?

Just a splash of color, she decided. She went in her closet and pulled out a bright scarf Daniela had given her ages ago. Wrapping it around her neck, she went to meet him.

He wasn't there when she arrived. She checked the time. She was three minutes late—he should have been here. The only person nearby was a guy on a sleek black motorcycle, wearing a leather jacket.

And red Converse shoes.

She blinked. Brian Benedict?

He took of his helmet, hanging it on the handlebars, and grinned at her. "Hey Marley."

She blinked again, stunned by how studly he looked on the motorcycle. Kind of like a young Wolverine with glasses. "This is yours?"

"It was a splurge." He patted it with his gloved hand. "But so worth it."

"That's awfully"—
hot
—"dangerous."

"Not if you know what you're doing." He opened a compartment on the back and took out gloves and another helmet. "Put these on."

She took a step back. "I can't get on there."

"Why not?"

"Because I—" She didn't know why, actually. Because he'd surprised her with this facet of himself, and she felt off-kilter.

"I'll drive safely. I promise." He got off and walked toward her.

Except it looked like stalking, and she took another step back. "Brian—"

"Nice scarf." He took the edges and tugged her closer. "It matches your eyes."

"It's lime green."

"It's bright, and so are your eyes when they aren't so defensive." He smiled.

She swallowed, taken aback by his nearness. It was intriguing.

"Your eyes say you want to do it," he said softly.

Kiss him? She shook her head, knowing she was in denial.

"Come on. I can tell you want a ride."

"Oh. The bike." She frowned, off-balance.

"I'll have you to lunch and back safely. I promise."

He was so close she noticed the gray-blue of his eyes behind his glasses. They looked calm and inviting, and they encouraged her to nod and say, "Okay."

"Good." He secured the scarf around her neck and then gently slid the helmet on her head, fastening the strap under her chin with care. "This is going to mess up your hair. Sorry."

"I'm not out to impress anyone."

"I like that." Grinning, he handed her the gloves and got back on. After he put his helmet on, he lifted the kickstand and motioned her on.

It was surprisingly tricky getting her leg over the seat. It took her two tries, but at least he didn't laugh at her.

He took her hands and wrapped them around him—close. She rolled her eyes, knowing this was gratuitous, but deciding not to argue for safety's sake.

He gave her a questioning thumbs up.

She nodded, and they were off.

She thought she'd be scared but she was excited from the moment he pulled out from the curb. She felt the power of the machine under her, reverberating through her, and she loved it. She leaned closer to him, bumping her helmet against his.

They arrived wherever they were going way too quickly. She slid off, already looking forward to the ride back.

Brian parked the bike and took his helmet off. "How did you like that?"

"It was
amazing
." She handed him her headgear and watched him secure them to his bike. "But that doesn't mean I'm going to change my mind about dating you."

"I don't even want to date you anymore, Marley."

Marley eyed him suspiciously. "You don't?"

"You're too high maintenance. We're just going to be friends." Brian raked a hand through his hair and gestured toward the restaurant a couple doors down. "Swan Oyster Depot. They have great seafood here."

There? She looked disbelieving at the restaurant. It was a nondescript entrance on a dingy street, next to a liquor store, with a short line of people waiting to get in. Across the street was sex-toy shop. "You take me to all the nice places."

He grinned at her as they got into line. Then he frowned at her and reached for her head.

"What are you doing?" she exclaimed, batting his hands away.

"Your hair is messy from the helmet." He pulled out the clip that held her hair in its bun and fluffed her hair around her shoulders. "That's better," he said, handing her the clip.

"No it's not." She wound her hair back and reset it in place.

Brian shook his head. "It was pretty down."

"But messy."

"Sometimes messy is what you need."

"I was never allowed to be messy." She winced. Why did she say that? She hadn't meant to—it'd come from nowhere, even if it were true.

Of course Brian glommed on to it. "Not even when you were a kid?"

"My mom preferred things to be tidy."

"And your dad?" he asked as they moved up to stand in the doorway.

"My dad left before I was born," she admitted reluctantly.

She waited for Brian to start extrapolating her neuroses and accredit them to not having a father figure, but all he said was, "What a loser."

She stared at him in shock. Then she nodded. "He really was."

A guy in a white apron gestured to them. "Two of you? Take the spot down at the end."

They walked inside. The only seating was at a long counter. Brian led the way and sat on a stool. She perched primly next to him, hitching her stuff on the hook under the counter.

"They pretty much only serve fresh seafood. I recommend the salad, unless you like oysters."

The guy in the soiled apron came by, smiling in welcome. They ordered, a half salad for her, a full for him, and two Cokes.

While they waited for their food to arrive, Brian turned to face her. "Since we're going to be friends, you need to fill me in on all the pertinent information. Like what you do for a living."

"I'm the assistant to a world-renowned pastry chef."

"Really?" He perked up. "Do you get leftovers?"

"There usually aren't any." She smiled at his disappointed expression. "At Christmastime she usually bakes at home, but I don't think she will again this year."

"Why is that?"

"Her grandmother died last year. They used to do Christmas baking together. I think Daniela still misses her."

"If anything changes and you have too many cookies on your hands, let me know. I'm very willing to save you from sugar overdose."

She imagined him in a mask, swiping extra cookies out of her way, keeping her hips safe from extra pounds. It wasn't hard to picture, and that made her nervous. So she veered the conversation. "If I were going to be a superhero, I'd be Catwoman."

"I'd have figured you for Wonder Woman. Batman was always my favorite comic book series. Bruce Wayne had an edge, and cool toys."

She sighed. "In a perfect world, he'd really exist."

Brian leaned forward. "If I dressed up as Batman, would you go out with me?"

"I thought you said you didn't want to date me."

"Hypothetically speaking."

"Then, hypothetically speaking, it couldn't hurt." She pictured him in a black latex suit. He'd look sizzling actually. She picked up her Coke and sipped a little, trying to cool herself off.

"Good to know." He smiled and said thanks to the guy who brought them their salads. "I'm an accountant."

She paused with her fork halfway to her mouth. "Brian Benedict, the bookkeeper?"

He shrugged, seemingly not bothered. "Alliteration always worked for Stan Lee. I like numbers, and being an accountant is more creative than you'd imagine."

"I guess," she murmured.

"My clients appreciate me, I make a good living, and since I work for myself I have a fair amount of freedom. Except during tax season." He grinned. "Still, it's not as cool as working with a pastry chef."

"That's not as cool as it sounds. You think
I'm
high maintenance. You should see Daniela." Realizing what she said, she quickly amended her statement. "Not that she isn't great. She's very caring, but she's temperamental."

"Like?" He took a bite of salad and waited for her to explain.

"Like if you interrupt her when she's working, she flips out. And she's picky about the jobs she takes."

"That's a good thing though. I'm picky about the clients I take on."

"But you wouldn't turn down clients who forward your career."

"I might, if they were a pain in the ass." He pointed at her with his fork. "But Daniela's being stubborn about something that's bothering you."

"Is it that obvious?"

"You're like an open comic book." He smiled. "Tell me about it."

"The Food Network wants her to do another show but she won't even let me tell her the terms." Marley picked at her salad, thinking about it. "She's got something else going on, and it's distracting her from her business, and I can't figure it out."

"Maybe she met a guy."

"Daniela?" Marley frowned, trying to picture that. There were always men who wanted her boss. And why not? She was petite and striking and passionate. But Daniela was always disinterested in getting involved beyond a fling every now and then. "I don't know. Whatever it is, I need to figure it out soon."

"You will," Brian said confidently.

"Why are you single?" She studied him, trying to puzzle him out. "You're nice, employed, and decent looking."

"Gee. Thanks." He rolled his eyes.

"It just seems like you'd be able to find dates without employing a matchmaking service."

He blushed. "Actually, Valentine and I dated very briefly. We weren't good together, but we stayed great friends. She asked me to do this favor for her."

Marley stared at him and then started to laugh.

"What's so funny?"

She shook her head, trying to catch her breath. "So all those questions she asked me about how many children I wanted were in vain?"

"Actually, Valentine is good at matching people up. She comes by it naturally. Her mother and grandmother were both matchmakers. She's just awful at pairing herself with anyone." He shook his head. "It defies logic. Lots of guys go out with her too. They become totally devoted to her and are at her beck and call, but none of them fall for her. It's strange and ironic."

"Do you think there's one right person for everyone? Or do you think there are people who are good enough?"

"There's not one right person." He faced her, meeting her eyes seriously. "I think we find someone who clicks and then have to work to make it right. When you stop working, it falls apart. Most people are lazy and just want it to be perfect, but a relationship takes effort."