Spend Valentine’s Day with Vladimir
Nitwit
? Not likely.
****
The next morning, when Meredith strode into the Divine Desserts kitchen, even the makeup she’d slathered on her face couldn’t disguise the evidence of all the tears she promised herself she wouldn’t shed the night before, but had.
“Oh my gosh, you look terrible,” Dana said when she turned to say hello. “What happened?”
Meredith dumped her bag in the corner and reached for an apron. “Vladimir Wiznitsky happened.”
“You had a fight?”
“More than a fight. A screaming match par excellence.” Meredith yanked the apron around her waist and tightly secured the strings. “We are, as the gossip columns love to phrase it,
dunzo
…completely, mutually, and irrevocably.”
Dana rushed over and grasped her in a comforting hug. “Oh, sweetie, I’m so sorry.”
Meredith took a sniffling breath to keep any more useless tears from falling. “Thanks, but everything’s fine. I can handle it. The most important thing now is that we’ve got a ton of cakes to make and only four days to make them in.” She eased out of Dana’s embrace and headed to the fridge. “So let’s get moving.”
****
“That’s the end of it,” Dana said, sounding every bit as tired as Meredith felt. “The last order just went out and should reach its destination in…” She glanced at the kitchen wall clock. “…fifteen minutes.”
Meredith nodded as she shucked her apron and prepared to call it a day—Valentine’s Day, to be precise. “Just in time for the customer’s party.”
“Yeah, thank God.” Dana stored a stack of bowls in a cabinet before removing her own apron and hanging it up.
Meredith sighed and scanned the room to make sure everything was in order after their recent whirlwind of almost nonstop activity. Thirty-nine orders in the past week—twelve of them that had to be shipped to nearby areas, twenty-one that were delivered to various parts of the city, and six local emergency requests they’d received just a day ago.
But at least it had somehow all worked out well. The customers would be happy, Divine Desserts would have a little more loot in its meager coffers…Meredith exhaled another weary sigh…and she’d spend the rest of Valentine’s Day alone.
“Jake and I plan to have dinner at that new Italian restaurant near our house, then take in a show,” Dana said as she put on her coat. “What about you?”
Meredith shrugged. “I’m a little tired, so I think I’ll just go home, have some wine, then check on our current finances and watch a movie.”
Dana frowned. “Vlad’s still a no-show?”
Meredith nodded, knowing there was no use in lying about it. She’d mentioned their disastrous head-butting session to Dana, so his continued absence wasn’t really surprising.
“Hey, I basically kicked him out, so yes, he’s still gone.” She shrugged as if she couldn’t care less.
Dana grinned and snapped her fingers as though the greatest idea had just come to her. “Hey, come with us. We’d love having you.”
Meredith took a breath. The last thing she wanted was pity, even from someone she loved as much as she did Dana. “Thanks, you’re a real friend. But Valentine’s Day is for duos, not trios. Come on, don’t worry about me. Just get out of here so I can close up.” She hugged Dana. “Kiss Jake for me, and have a great evening, both of you.”
Dana didn’t look convinced, but she nodded anyway. “Okay, if you’re sure.”
“Positive. Now go home and enjoy.”
After Dana left, Meredith gave the kitchen one more brief inspection. Then she locked the place up securely and went home, unlike Dana, who had Jake waiting expectantly for her, completely alone.
Chapter Eight
As soon as Meredith entered her apartment, she poured herself some wine and went to her office so she could fire up her computer and look at the cake she’d created for Julia Ogilvy’s wedding.
“Perfect,” she murmured. “A masterpiece.
My
masterpiece.”
At least the cake
would
have been her perfect masterpiece if Julia hadn’t demanded a retired candy-heart saying…or else no sale, no valuable customer referrals, and soon probably no Divine Desserts. Unless she found another way of earning enough to pay the bills.
Then to add insult to injury, Vlad had acted like the ultimate jerk just because she was understandably concerned about the situation. Okay, maybe slightly more than concerned. Maybe just a wee bit obsessive.
But so what? High-powered businessmen did it all the time, and wives and girlfriends were always expected to understand and to at least send a lousy greeting card for Valentine’s Day.
But here it was, February fourteenth, and did the man have the decency to do that? Ha!
Well, she was a big girl and couldn’t care less about a silly holiday that glorified some naked kid shooting arrows at people. Talk about idiotic concepts.
She sat at the desk and stared at the computer screen. The image of the mock-up cake she’d designed stared back at her, and Meredith blinked away a tear that she refused to let fall.
No problem. She’d always been able to handle any romantic debacle life threw at her, and she could damn well also rise above a professional setback.
She’d just admit to the Ogilvys that she’d hit an unavoidable roadblock and couldn’t deliver. There was still time for them to find another baker. Maybe one who’d welcome having almost two-million candy hearts inscribed with the words “Adore Me” on hand, or at least one who had the room and could afford the expense of doing so.
Meredith drained the wine glass and reached for the bottle to get a refill. As for her, she’d be fine, and someday the cake, sans candy hearts, would find another well-heeled bride who’d be thrilled to ooh and aah over it and welcome it to her wedding.
“Right.” She set the wine bottle back on the desk with a decisive thump. “No question about that.”
Then she remembered the candy-hearts company website. A week ago, before all those last-minute orders derailed her schedule, she’d planned to directly contact the people there to see if they had any advice for solving her problem. She still had some time before she had to give Julia the bad news, so maybe it wasn’t too late to do it now.
Finding the URL for their website, she began keying it in as she prayed. “Maybe they can help,” she murmured. “Maybe they’ll even take pity on a poor business owner who—”
The doorbell’s shrill blast cut her off, making her heart pump triple-time.
“Crud,” she muttered and went to answer it, opening the door a crack.
A deliveryman stood outside, cradling a large box in his arms. “Meredith Crismis?”
She nodded and opened the door wider so he could come in.
He plunked the box on the foyer table and shoved a pen and paper at her. “Delivery for you. Sign this.”
Meredith glanced from man to box to man again, equally surprised by both of them. “What is it?”
The man looked at her as if she was terminally dense. “A package,” he finally said.
She narrowed her eyes at him. The one thing she didn’t need at the moment was snark. “I mean, who sent it, what’s inside?”
“Damned if I know, lady. But if you sign on the dotted line, you can open it and find out.”
She snatched the pen out of his hand, scrawled her name on the paper, and crowded him toward the door so he’d get the idea and make a speedy exit.
“Smart mouth,” she muttered, but she was too intrigued by the delivery to spend time haranguing the deliverer. So she just slammed the door shut as soon as he left and carried the box to her desk.
“With my luck, it will probably explode when I take the cover off,” she murmured as she pulled a pair of scissors from one of the drawers
She was just about to snip the wrapping tape when someone began pounding at the door. Meredith groaned. If that was the delivery guy saying he’d made a mistake and the box wasn’t really for her, she’d heave the thing at his head. She tossed the scissors on the desk, thought better of it, and picked them up again before she went to answer the door.
“Forget the deliveryman,” she said as she snapped the locks open and grasped the knob. “It’s probably an axe murderer, and if it is, I’m gonna whack the bum’s skull off.” She yanked the door open and came face-to-face with Vlad.
“You.” She glared at him.
“That’s right.
Me
,” he said, glaring right back as he stormed into the apartment, dragging Randy with him.
“And
him.
” He pointed at Randy, who looked like he had eaten some year-old unrefrigerated fish and was going to be sick.
Vlad held up a heart-shaped box of candy, then smacked it onto the foyer table. “Here, before I forget. Happy Valentine’s Day.”
“Thanks a lot,” she snarled. “Now why are you manhandling Randy?”
Vlad elbowed Randy in the ribs. “Tell her.”
She watched in confusion as Randy hemmed, hawed, shifted from one foot to the other, and kept clearing his throat nervously as he looked everywhere but at her.
“Um,” he finally said. “You see, it’s like this. I’m the one.”
Meredith shook her head. “You’re what one?”
“Will you just get it out, for God’s sake.” Vlad gave Randy another poke, and Randy stumbled sideways before catching himself and letting out another hesitant “uh.”
Then he seemed to suck up his courage. Clearing his throat, he looked Meredith straight in the eye and said, “The viruses on your computer…I put them there. I did it remotely. Right at the office, and no one ever suspected until Vlad figured it out. I mean, I didn’t want to hurt you, but I needed the money she gave, and I didn’t use dangerous viruses, the way she wanted. I just installed sort of mild ones.”
He went silent, and Vlad snapped his fingers in Randy’s face. “Tell her the rest,” he ordered.
“Uh, I also hacked your company website and turned it into Devilish Delights, because by then she was really on my case and forced me to do it.”
“Who is this
she
?” Meredith asked, but she already had the unnerving feeling that she knew.
Randy shuffled his feet nervously. “Tippi Turnbull.”
Meredith sighed.
Bingo!
“I guess I don’t have to ask why she did it.”
Randy shrugged. “Why else? Competition.”
She nodded. “And you needed the money.”
He lifted his hands in a helpless gesture. “Sick kid.” His weary tone echoed the futility of his gesture. “I mean, the job pays pretty well, but not good enough for me to afford really hi-tech long-term medical treatment. Not even with health insurance.”
“He’s right,” Vlad said. “Pay’s good, but nobody working there is close to becoming a multimillionaire.” He threw a drop-dead look at Randy. “Not that that excuses what he did. Nobody forced him to do it. So what do you want to do with him?”
“Do?” Meredith realized she was still clutching the scissors and held them up.
Randy moved away, trying unsuccessfully to wedge his body behind Vlad for protection.
She watched his terrified retreat and silently considered her options.
What should she do with him?
Have him tied to a block of cement and tossed in the nearest river? That was the first suitable punishment that came to mind. But he looked so repentant, and so panic-stricken, that she couldn’t help it, her heart went out to him and his sick child.
With a sigh, she put the scissors on the foyer table. “Go home to your child, Randy.”
His gaze skittered from the scissors to her face, eyes wide with surprise. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
“So I can go now?” he asked in a small, hopeful voice.
“Yes.”
“And all’s forgiven?”
Meredith narrowed her eyes at him. “Don’t press your luck, Randy.”
He nodded and stepped cautiously away from her, backing rapidly toward the door. “Right. I’m outta here.”
As he pulled the door open to make his escape, he paused and the edges of his mouth lifted in a small, tentative smile. “If you ever need anything, just call. I owe you. I mean, big-time.”
“Hug your child for me,” Meredith said.
“Will do, Meredith. Thanks.”
Then he bolted from the apartment, yanking the door closed behind him.
“That’s it? He gets off scot-free?” Vlad said.
He moved closer to her and folded his arms across his chest. It was that same damn superior-male pose he sometimes assumed—the one that both annoyed and turned her on in equal measure.
Meredith ignored the turn-on effect, shrugged, and retrieved her scissors from the table. “His viruses were a pain in the neck, but they didn’t destroy my business. They only made me temporarily crazy.”
She headed to the living room, conscious that Vlad was behind her. He trailed her across the room and into her office, his body so near that she could feel his heat invading her personal space.
“What about Tippi?”
His question was the operative one, and Meredith dropped the scissors on her desk and turned to answer him. “She gets a visit from me and maybe a letter from a lawyer to put the fear of God in her.”
He abandoned the superior arms-folded posture and nodded. “If you want, I’ll go with you.”
Okay, now it was getting harder to remember why she should be annoyed with the man and easier to remember how quickly and completely he could always turn her on, dammit.
“Thank you. I’d appreciate it. And thanks for unraveling the mystery for me.”
“That first day I worked on your computer, I sensed something was wrong, you having all that trouble. It just took a while for me to figure out what was going on.”
“I’m glad you did. At least that’s one problem I won’t have to deal with again.” She paused and stared at him when a grin spread across his face. “Why are you smiling?”
“Hug your child for me.” His grin broadened as he quietly echoed the request she’d made to Randy.
“And?”
He shrugged. “Very nice.”
Meredith narrowed her eyes at him, sure he must be making fun of her. “Are you laughing at me?” she said, sticking her chin out to show she was ready to do battle if necessary.