Just Desserts (12 page)

“Good.” His handsome face took on its professional mask. Melinda looked positively smug. Not one inkling of discomfort. She had, after all, taken the victory on many fronts.

“Did you get that contract you’d hoped for?” Layla asked.

“Uh, yes,” he said, his lips barely moving. “That worked out nicely.”

She idly fingered the long pearl necklace she wore. “Many things have worked out nicely for you lately.”

“You, too, I see,” Melinda said, nodding at Justin as if Layla getting another guy so soon made what she’d done all right.

The crazy thing was that on some level it did.

“So,” Robert said to Justin, “I understand you’re a baker or cook or something?”

He made it sound as if Justin had one of the many fine fast-food jobs available in the city.

“How’d you know that?”

“Research after our encounter at Lake Tahoe.”

“Ah,” Justin said, as if a major mystery had been solved. “Yeah. I am.”

“Pretty interesting occupation, making flowers out of frosting and such.” Condescension radiated from Robert’s arrogant expression.

“It pays the bills.”

“Does it really?” Melinda asked with apparent interest. She was good. Layla couldn’t decide if she was actually interested or being condescending, as well.

“A large custom cake will run in the thousands,” Justin said.

“Really? I had no idea.” Melinda cocked her head thoughtfully.

Robert said nothing, but Layla could see that he hadn’t realized cakes cost so much.

“How many do you do?”

“Enough that I don’t get much sleep,” Justin said.

“I like your dress,” Melinda said. “I think I saw it in the window of your sister’s porn shop.”

Layla went still at the unprovoked assault, her breath catching. Had the trollop just said that to her? But she recovered almost immediately, raising her eyebrows politely. “I didn’t know you were a customer. I’ll have to see that Sam sends you some promotional coupons.”

“I wouldn’t set foot in there,” Melinda said mildly, putting her nose in the air. “I don’t need implements.”

“It isn’t a matter of needing, but rather of enhancing. And with some men…” Layla paused significantly, shooting the smallest of glances at Robert “…you might appreciate a little enhancement.”

Layla couldn’t believe she’d just said that, and apparently, judging from the look on his face, neither could Robert. She was turning into Sam. Or maybe the dress imparted special powers.

“Layla, this has been loads of fun,” Justin said, taking her by the arm, “but we need to go.”

“But—”

“Good night,” he said to Robert and Melinda, before steering Layla firmly toward the door.

When they hit the street, she said, “Maybe that wasn’t such a good idea.”

“No. I think you got some closure, which was what you were after. Right?”

“Right.”

He put an arm around her as they walked down the street toward his car. “Wanna go get rip-roaring drunk?”

She laughed and leaned into him. “No. That just gets me into trouble.” Had she ever felt this connected with Robert? Never. But Justin was right—she had needed the closure. “But I wouldn’t mind a drink.”

Heaven knew she wanted one.

JUSTIN WOULD HAVE dearly loved to pop Robert what’s-his-name in the face for bringing Melinda to a bar that Layla obviously thought of as her place. Not only that, he was taken aback by the rather primal protective instincts that had ripped through him when the bitch made that remark about Sam’s “porn shop,” even though Layla had handled the situation masterfully.

Extreme protectiveness.

Probably not a good sign.

Ceol was Justin’s favorite bar, even though he hadn’t had as much time to hang out there as he used to. They made their way inside, past the dartboard, where two young guys were deep into a game, an Akita dog sitting next to one.

“There’s a dog in here,” Layla whispered.

“His name is Seby. He’s a regular.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “How often do you come to this place?”

Justin smiled down at her. “Quite often up until about a year ago. Since the cakes took off, I haven’t had time to do much of anything except work, eat and sleep.”

“How about your social life?”

“I squeeze that in here and there.”

“Justin!” A guy appeared out of the crowd to clap his arm. Layla gave him a how-much-time-do-you-really-spend-here look.

“Good to see you,” Justin said, before introducing Layla.

“What’ll you have?” he asked. “I can’t get you a seat just yet, but I can get you a drink.”

“Beer okay?” Justin asked.

“Fine.”

“Two Smithwick’s.”

“You got it.” They stood next to the wall, watching the dart game. “I don’t think they’re following the rules,” Layla said.

“Sometimes it’s more fun not to follow the rules. Flaunt authority.”

“You’ve never been much for authority,” Layla agreed.

“And you have.”

“Authority comforts me. Follow the rules and all will be well.”

“How’s that worked out?”

“Really good up until recently, but it wasn’t like I didn’t pay a price for sticking to the straight and narrow.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m not even certain how high a price. I’ve been afraid of losing control of my life for so long.... I don’t even know where the fear came from. My brothers and sisters? Fearless.”

“Derek maybe. Eric? He wienered out on a few things.”

“Roof? Skateboard?”

“Among other fine adventures.” Many of which had involved getting a rise out of Layla. It couldn’t have been easy being the responsible older child when her three younger siblings were such hellions and, because Sam was barely ten months younger than the twins, all in the same grade. Her siblings were like the three musketeers. Throw himself into the mix and… Justin let out a breath. “Would you believe I’m sorry for the crap we—I—did to you?”

“No.” She leaned against him, their shoulders and upper arms touching. And stayed like that as she studied the bar patrons.

Justin finally gave in to temptation and put his arm around her shoulders, drawing her close, telling himself to stop now. But she was soft and warm and smelled fantastic.... No biggie. Two people snuggled together, waiting for a table, watching the crowd while becoming superaware of one another. Of the moment. Of possibilities.

He realized then that it wasn’t the here and now that was concerning him. It was the future. With Layla he felt as if he could skip a couple steps. Fast-forward because he knew her so well.

Fast-forward to where?

Therein lay the rub.

Every one of Justin’s relationships followed the same path. If he fast-forwarded, the only place he had to go was to the end.

Layla smiled up at him, looking, well, beautiful in a way he’d never appreciated when he was younger. His arm tightened for a second before the owner of the bar came up to them and said, “There’s a free table near the rear entrance.”

“Thanks, Ron.”

“Do you know everyone here?” Layla asked as his arm fell away.

“Pretty much.” Justin held out a chair for her and had barely sat down himself when someone hailed him. He turned in his chair to see Paula Diaz, former cheerleader and senior class secretary, waving at him. He waved back without much enthusiasm, then noticed she was sitting with at least six other people from their graduating class.

Damn.

The reunion committee. He’d received a letter a while back asking for help, but had no intention of even going to a reunion. He had no good memories of his last year of high school. Not one.

“You okay?” Layla asked when he turned back.

“Yeah. Just some people from high school.”

Layla narrowed her eyes as she looked over his shoulder at the group. “I recognize a couple of them. Would that be the infamous reunion committee?”

“How do you know that?”

“David Heinz is there. He’s after Sam, trying to take advantage of her artistic abilities. And I remember Paula. Kind of.”

“Yeah, I guess it could be the committee. Most of the class officers are there.” Three of the four, anyway.

Layla laughed. “How would you know who the class officers were? Did you even go to school?”

“It was my freshman year when I skipped so much. Reggie took care of business once she found out, and I went to school religiously after that.”

“Do you ever see your father now?” Layla asked, picking up on the fact that it was Reggie who’d yanked him back onto the straight and narrow, not his dad.

Justin gave a quick shake of his head. “No. We get the occasional call, and he pretends everything is normal. You know—a dad abandoning his teenage kids. Normal.” Justin focused on the table for a moment. “He did support us, though.”

“But he wasn’t there enough,” Layla said quietly.

Justin shook his head. “Nope. Can’t say that he was. He’d promised no more long-haul truck jobs, but always took the next one that was offered.”

The Smithwick’s came and neither of them spoke as they both took a long, long draw.

Having the committee there was creeping him out to the point that he didn’t mind talking about his father—mainly because of the one prominently missing member. Behind him chairs scraped against the floor just as a three-man band started to tune up, and a second later a hand clapped on to his shoulder.

“Hey, Justin. How fortuitous to run into you here. Did you get our letter?”

Justin looked up at a smiling David Heinz. “I did.”

“Well, in addition to needing help on the committees, we’re looking for a caterer for some of the reunion events and we have a very set budget. Any chance we could negotiate a price break?”

“Send me the info and I’ll see what I can do.” But he wasn’t going to serve at his own reunion. He wasn’t even going to be there.

“Great.”

“You wouldn’t happen to be in contact with Rachel, would you?” Paula Diaz asked.

Justin had half expected the question—after all, they’d dated and she’d been a class officer, so she should be in on the planning sessions, too. “No.”

“None of us have. And the funny thing is we can’t even get any cooperation from her parents.” Paula shook her head in a mystified way. “Even though she moved just before graduation, we wanted her to come to the reunion.”

“I tell you,” David said, “she joined a cult. Couldn’t face life after losing skater boy, here.”

“I heard that was why she moved,” Paula said. Justin’s heart stalled out for a moment until she added, “Rumor had it her parents thought you were a bad influence.” She waggled her eyebrows up and down in a humorous manner, making it obvious that she had no inkling of the truth.

Justin tried to smile. Truly he did. And then he changed the subject. “Just email the specs to the business and I’ll get you the lowest price we can offer,” he said, trying to get them the hell out of there. What did it mean that Rachel’s parents wouldn’t help them out?

It shouldn’t bug him, but it did, although he could understand why Rachel wouldn’t want to attend this reunion any more than he did.

His tactic had worked and Paula and David moved on. Justin looked up to see Layla quietly watching him. Try as he might, he could not bring himself totally back to the place he’d been before the committee had stopped by their table and blasted the shit out of his evening.

“Will you be attending your reunion?” Layla asked.

“No. Did you go to yours last year?”

“Helped plan it. I wasn’t a class officer, but I was in town and people remembered me as being a workhorse.”

“Did you enjoy yourself?”

“Not much. I was too busy worried about logistics and everything going smoothly.” She smiled without humor. “I hope I can move past behaving like that.”