Glitter Baby (Wynette, Texas #3)(102)

“Technically I didn’t violate your privacy since none of the stories were true.”

He didn’t crack a smile. “I don’t like cheap tricks.”

“That’s funny. I thought you invented them.”

His mouth tightened in an unfriendly line. “Keep my name out of the newspapers, Fleur. Consider this your only warning.” He turned away and took off across the street.

“I’m not your publicist, remember?” she called out after him. “All I represent is your pathetic literary career.”

He picked up his pace and didn’t look back.





Chapter 23




To Fleur’s surprise, Jake was the first to arrive for her Saturday night dinner party, knocking on the door at precisely eight o’clock. Although she’d taken the precaution of tucking a few bottles of Mexican beer in the refrigerator, she hadn’t really expected him to show up. He wore semirespectable dark gray slacks and a lighter gray long-sleeved dress shirt that made his eyes seem bluer. He thrust a gift-wrapped package into her hands as he took in her ivory wool trousers and copper silk blouse. “Don’t you ever look bad?”

She frowned at the package. “Should I call the bomb squad?”

“Stop being a wise-ass and open it.”

She pulled off the gift wrap to reveal a fresh new copy of The Joy of Cooking. “Just what I’ve always not wanted.”

“I knew you’d love it.”

He followed her into the kitchen, and she put the cookbook on the counter. Considering her limited personal resources, she loved how welcoming everything looked. She’d waxed the old harvest table until the dark wood shone. At a secondhand store, she’d found a chipped bean pot that she’d filled with chrysanthemums to use as a centerpiece. The store had also yielded up a charming set of faded tan and olive checked tea towels for placemats. She smelled Jake’s clean shirt and toothpaste as he came up behind her. She started as his hands lifted the back of her hair and touched her neck just beneath the collar of her blouse.

“Jeez, you’re jumpy.” Something small and cool settled between her breasts. She looked down and saw a trumpet-shaped blue and green enamel flower hanging on a thin gold chain. Tiny diamonds sparkled on the blossoms like dew. As she turned to him, she glimpsed something soft and unguarded in his expression. The present slipped away, and for a moment it seemed as if they’d returned to the time when things were easy between them. “It’s beautiful,” she said. “You didn’t have to—”

“No big deal. It’s a morning glory. I’ve noticed that’s not your best time of day.” He turned away, ending the moment.

The morning glory charm slipped from her fingers. Just for a moment, she’d let down her guard. She wouldn’t let it happen again.

“How’s come I don’t smell food?” he said. “Should I be worried?”

“The cook hasn’t arrived yet,” she replied lightly.

Right on cue, the front buzzer rang, and she hurried to open it.

“I’ve brought my own knives,” Michel said. Tonight he wore khakis and a long-sleeved blue T-shirt with a narrow piece of what had once been a man’s striped necktie sewn diagonally across the chest. He headed for the kitchen. “I found these wonderful grapes at this little hole-in-the-wall off Canal Street. Did you go to the fish market I told you about for the halibut?”

“Aye, aye, sir.” As he set the grocery bag on the counter, she saw how tired he looked, and she was glad she’d planned this evening for him. He spotted Jake.

“Michel, you remember Jake Koranda. I disarmed him at the door, so feel free to insult him as much as you want.”

Jake smiled and shook hands with Michel.

Simon arrived five minutes later. As luck would have it, he’d seen every Caliber picture and barely noticed Michel in his eagerness to talk with Jake. Michel, in the meantime, was getting ready to cook and treating Fleur to a long list of mishaps he was absolutely convinced would ruin his collection. In terms of matchmaking, the evening wasn’t getting off to a promising start.

Kissy appeared and headed for the kitchen. “Sorry I’m late, but Charlie called me from Chicago just as I was leaving.”

“Things must be improving,” Fleur said. “At least you’re talking again.”

Kissy looked glum. “I think I’ve lost my touch. No matter what I do, he—” She broke off as she saw Jake leaning against the counter. “Ohmygod.”

Fleur rescued a spoon Michel had dropped. “Kissy, meet Jake Koranda. Jake, Kissy Sue Christie.”

Kissy was all gumdrop eyes and candy apple mouth as she stared up at Jake. An oil slick of a grin spread over his face. Kissy looked like a kindergarten snack. “My pleasure.” She smiled her dippy what’s-your-name-sailor-boy smile, and Jake puffed up like a rooster.

Fleur should have been amused. Instead she felt as if she were thirteen again, taller than the other girls, gawky and awkward with bruised elbows, bandaged knees, and a face too big for her body. Kissy, on the other hand, looked like a teenage boy’s wet dream, and, before long, she and Jake were making the salad together while Simon acted as bartender. Fleur fought her jealousy as she helped Michel fix one of his signature dishes, fish with grapes in a vermouth butter sauce.