Love in the Morning (12 page)

She shrugged. “About average for this time in the morning.”

“We're serving more people?”

“I think so. Betsy said we were.”

He had a pile of spreadsheets on his desk that no doubt included that fact somewhere. He should probably go back and look through them a little more carefully. He nodded slowly. “Sounds good. Can you do the hash again tomorrow?”

She shrugged again. “I'll probably change the meat so we get a little variety. We've got a lot of bacon around and some ham. I'll do one of those tomorrow.”

“Great.” He tried desperately to come up with something else they could have a conversation about, but the omelet line was beginning to form again. “Want to grab lunch later?”

She frowned slightly as she picked up another omelet pan. “I usually work through lunch. There's a lot of prep that needs doing before I knock off for the day.”

“Dinner then,” he said flatly.

The corners of her mouth edged up. “I can probably make dinner.”

“Good. I'll pick you up at six.” The guy in line behind him was giving him the evil eye. Definitely time to move on. He gave her a quick smile and stepped back to let the line move ahead.

Almost instantly Lizzy was back to professional. She gave the first man in line a cool smile and took his order for an omelet that seemed to include just about everything she had in front of her.

Clark grabbed a muffin off the tray and headed back out the door, chewing. Cinnamon, clove, raisins, something dark and tasty. He glanced down at the remains of the muffin in his hand. It was flecked with green. He had no idea what the hell he was eating.

On the other hand, it was clearly one of the better things he'd had in his mouth lately. Not the best, mind you.

That would be Lizzy Apodaca herself.

*****

Lizzy entered the kitchen with a spring in her step. The hash had been a success. After they'd run out, she'd had several people ask her for more. The zucchini muffins had disappeared too, along with the blueberry and the bran. In fact, the dining room looked a bit like it had been attacked by a band of foraging Huns.

As she helped Desi mix up the muffins for tomorrow, she filled him in on the new menu items. He was enthusiastic about the breakfast tacos. “My aunt makes those—she says everybody in San Antonio eats them.”

“We'll try them this weekend. I think they're really more like weekend food anyway.”

“How about burritos? I've got a rockin' recipe for green chile sauce. It's my mom's.” He pushed a tin of zucchini muffins into the oven.

Lizzy frowned, considering. “I know breakfast burritos are big around here, but they'd take more prep than the tacos. The tacos are basically going to be a kind of do-it-yourself breakfast bar item where we lay out the ingredients and let the customers do the prep. Let's see how everything else works out—then we can add stuff later on.”

Desi nodded. “Sure. We'll also have to figure out how to make the pancakes so they don't get soggy.”

“Right. I've done it before. We can freeze some the night before and then microwave them before we put them out. It works.”

Desi frowned. “You did that in California?”

“I did a lot of things in California.” Lizzy checked her shoulders. Not clenched for once. Maybe she could actually mention California without a panic attack.

Four hours later they were more or less done. She sent Desi home and headed back to her room to change for dinner.

Change into what?

She paused, staring at the meager contents of her closet. That was an excellent question. Once again she wished she'd brought more clothes along with her than just what she could stuff into a duffle bag, but she hadn't been thinking clearly when she'd left LA. And she hadn't had any time to shop for clothes since her last foray to Menninger's when she'd only managed to grab a couple of things. She took a quick look at the clock in the lobby, but it was way too late to head to Main for a shopping trip.

She considered ducking into the hotel gift shop and picking up a new T-shirt, but somehow that seemed a little desperate. Maybe she could make something in her closet work.

After rejecting a couple of tops that were more summer than fall, she pulled on her one remaining silk blouse. It seemed to hang from her shoulders—she looked a little like a refugee dressed in hand-me-downs.
Crap.
She pulled on the black T-shirt she'd bought at the western store when she got her jacket. The silk blouse could go over it. And lower body? Jeans or… Unfortunately, jeans seemed to be about all she had unless she counted a flowered sundress.
Ah, hell, jeans it is.

She studied herself in the mirror. She was also pretty short on makeup, not having taken time to replace her dwindling supply since arriving in Salt Box. Mascara, lip gloss, maybe a little blush. Maybe a little
more
blush. Geez she looked like a vampire victim.

Lizzy sighed. She would never be beautiful, but there had been times in her life when she'd been more presentable than this. Maybe she'd take some time off next week—buy something besides jeans and T-shirts, pick up an actual tube of lipstick. Maybe…

Somebody rapped on her door.

She knew who that somebody was.
Deep breaths, Lizzy, deep breaths.
She took one last glance in the mirror, but there wasn't much more she could do. This was as good as it got, for now.

Showtime.

Chapter Twelve

Lizzy wasn't surprised when they ended up at the Blarney Stone. She was a little surprised when Clark steered clear of a table with Nona and Dick, however, giving them a quick smile before he ushered her through a door into the restaurant that adjoined the bar.

The walls were paneled in knotty pine, sort of like an old-time steak house. The tables were full of couples and families, what she thought of as
normal people
, as opposed to the tourists and singles who hung out at the Blarney Stone.

Clark waved a hand at the hostess as he headed toward the side of the room. Apparently, he was a regular. A waitress appeared at their table within minutes to take their orders. Lizzy decided it was a good night for simple tastes and went with a burger and beer.

“Does Ted own this place?” she asked as she handed the menu across the table.

Clark shrugged. “He owns the building. Marion leases the space from him. It works out for them both.”

“It's a nice space.” She looked around the room again. It was the kind of place her grandparents would have loved, assuming the kitchen served enchiladas. A good assortment of tables and what looked like a separate room at the back for private parties.

Clark glanced toward the entrance. “I guess it is. Are you looking at it from a professional standpoint?”

“Maybe.” She allowed herself a small smile. “I do that sometimes, although I try not to. I mean, don't you check out other people's hotels?”

“Oh, Lord, yes.” He grinned. “You can't really avoid it.”

“Do you ever copy their ideas?”

“Sure. Assuming they fit at Praeger House. I mean, it's a Colorado Historic Site—there are limits to what I can do to it.”

She leaned forward in her chair. “Okay, so tell me about the Praeger House. Who was Praeger anyway?”

“He was a timber baron in the early twentieth century. Emmanuel Praeger. He built the house, but it didn't stay in the family for long. It's been a lot of different things over the years, including a school for ‘troubled girls'. It was a hotel for a while before I picked it up in 2006.”

“Did you have to fix it up?”

He shrugged. “Yeah, pretty much. I renovated one wing at a time, but the whole thing is done now. We got the historic designation a couple of years ago.”

“It's…neat.” She felt her face flush.
Nice, Lizzy.

He gave her a quick grin. “Yeah, it is. I like it.”

“Did you own hotels before the Praeger House?”

He shook his head. “I worked in a couple. I wanted to get into the business, but I didn't have any background in hotel management. I found some people who were willing to let me work my way up.”

“That's good.” She took a sip of her beer. “Hands-on experience can be better than classes. It's lucky you found people to work with.”

He shrugged. “Friends of the family. They knew I wanted to get into hotels.”

Friends of the family.
Lizzy found herself wondering just who the Denhams were. She had a feeling the Apodacas weren't in the same league.

“So how did you get into cooking?” Clark leaned back in his chair, giving her another of those grins.

“I went to culinary school. I knew what I wanted to do.”

“So hands-on isn't everything.” He was still grinning, fortunately.

“Hands-on is great. I enjoyed all the time I spent in restaurants, and I admit I learned about as much there as I did in school. But they both helped.”

“How'd your family feel about it? Did they like the idea of having a chef on call?”

Her shoulders tightened.
Your family.
She should have known the conversation would get around to family history. And, of course, her family history wasn't all bad. Just…complicated. “I was living with my Aunt Josefina at the time. She was okay with it, but my other aunts didn't always buy in.”

Clark frowned. “What about your folks?”

“They died in an auto accident when I was sixteen.” Thus leaving Lizzy to the not-so-tender mercies of the Apodaca clan. Cousin Teresa in particular.

Clark's frown turned to concern. “I'm sorry.”

“So am I. But their insurance paid for my school. Otherwise I'm not sure what I would have done.” Probably still gone to culinary school or found a job in a restaurant. It was where she was destined to be.

“Are you still in contact with your aunts back in California?”

Her shoulders clenched again. It was a logical question. Even though she really didn't want to get into it. “Not so much. They've got their own families to look after.” And Lizzy wasn't really a part of those families anymore. Not after she'd almost derailed Teresa's television career.

He was frowning again. “It sounds like there's more to this story.”

She shrugged quickly. “There is, but it's not that interesting. I'm just not close to my family anymore.”

“Do they know where you are?”

Dear God, I hope not!
“Aunt Josefina does. Maybe I'll send the rest of them a picture at Christmas. Probably lots of pretty views around when it snows, right?”

“Right.” He picked up his beer again. “When you first came here, I had the feeling you were on your last legs.”

Probably because I was.
“I'd had some bad luck. I had a catering business that went bankrupt. It pretty much wiped me out.”

“So you decided to make a new start in Colorado?”

“Something like that.” She
so
didn't want to talk about this any more. “What's your family like? Are you from around here?”

He gave her a dry smile, as if he knew she was changing the subject deliberately. “I'm from Connecticut—that's where I was born anyway. I went to college out here, at CU. That's how I decided I wanted to live here.”

“Is your family still in Connecticut?”

“Some of them. Brothers and sisters mostly.”

“Your parents?”

He shook his head. “They both died young.”

Something we have in common.
“I'm sorry. Did you grow up with aunts and uncles too?”

“Grandparents. And then my brother took over when my grandpa wasn't able to do it any more. My brothers and sisters are all older than I am.”

“Are you still in contact with them?”

He sighed, rubbing a hand across his chin. “Not so much. They weren't crazy about me sinking all my money into the hotel.”

She had the feeling that was a touchy subject. Strange to think he had his own touchy subjects to worry about. “But the hotel's doing fine, isn't it?”

He nodded. “The hotel's doing great. Which probably makes it worse from their point of view since it means I was right and they were wrong.” His smile faded slightly, as if he'd tasted something sour.

“We're both sort of on our own, it seems.” She raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah.” He shook his head, blowing out a breath. “So much for that topic. What's your favorite movie?”

“I should say
Julie and Julia
or
Babette's Feast
, but it's really
Love, Actually.
How about you?”

He shrugged. “Stick with the classics.
Die Hard.
”

“Guy thing.” She picked up her beer again.

“Definitely.” He watched her for a moment in silence, his changeable eyes now closer to brown than green.

She felt like holding her breath all of a sudden—the look he was giving her now started something low in her belly. He leaned forward again, as if he wanted to touch her.

Which was the moment the waitress arrived at their table with dinner.

He gave her another of those quicksilver grins. “To be continued.”

She nodded, managing a grin of her own. “I can't wait.”

*****

Talking about families had definitely been an odd experience. Clark was more certain than ever that Lizzy was hiding something, but it seemed to be connected to her family, which made no sense at all. Was she related to some famous criminal? He didn't think he'd heard anything about serial killers named Apodaca.

On the other hand, his own family wasn't exactly a model of togetherness, although talking to Lizzy had made him feel like he needed to call his sister Olivia, the only one of his siblings he was still close to.

Maybe the whole thing was just like she said it was—a family falling out over her career choices and maybe her business failure. Christ knew his own family had been expecting him to fail for years. He was the only one who hadn't gone into finance, the only one who'd cashed in a significant part of his inheritance to start a business. And not even the kind of business the Denhams normally started.

Instead of a two-thousand-dollar suit, he wore jeans and a flannel shirt. Instead of Greenwich and the Hamptons, he lived in the Rockies and skied the local resort. His brother Daniel would probably have a stroke if he could see him on an average workday. Just thinking about it caused knots to form in his stomach.

Then why are you thinking about it?
Damned if he knew.

Maybe because thinking about his family was a way to avoid thinking about the woman seated across the table from him. The very desirable woman whom he'd made love to the night before and wanted to make love to again this evening. Only he probably shouldn't.

Right. Because that would be bad.

It wouldn't be bad, but definitely stupid. He needed some distance from Lizzy and he was guessing she might feel the same way about him.

Of course right now she was licking her fingers after finishing off her French fries, a sight which did interesting things to his lower body. She saw him watching her and picked up her napkin somewhat hastily.

“Sorry. My mama taught me better than that.”

“Perfectly understandable. The fries here are first rate.”

She nodded. “They are. A little bit salty but overall great.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Salty is bad?”

“Too salty is bad. It's a tough call. You don't want to under-salt so that your food is bland, but if you get enthusiastic, you end up going too far the other way. Of course, sometimes that's deliberate.”

“Making your food too salty is a choice?” He raised an eyebrow.

“I knew a bar owner who used to serve people free peanuts and popcorn that he'd salted liberally. He said it increased drink sales by half.”

Clark found himself grinning. “Sneaky.”

“Very. Also effective.”

He shook his head. “I have a feeling spending time around you could wipe out some illusions if I'm not careful.”

She watched him for a moment, her smile dimming slightly. “I hope not. That's not my intention anyway.”

Oh crap, lady, I wasn't talking about sex.
He managed another tentative smile. “That's okay. I imagine a lot of us could stand to lose some illusions about restaurants and food. I guess if I knew what really went on in some kitchens, I might lose more than my illusions.”

Her expression morphed from a faint smile to something that looked like terror. “My…most kitchens are fine. I mean kitchens are inspected. We'll be inspected. The kitchen already has been. We've got a license. It's all good.”

He stared at her blankly. Had she really thought he was implying her kitchen wasn't as clean as it should be? “Your kitchen is great from everything I've seen. And yeah, we were inspected by the county health department a couple of months ago. We should be good for a year or so.”

Her cheeks flushed pink in the soft lights of the restaurant. “I…I'm sorry. I'm just sort of obsessive about making sure the kitchen is clean. Restaurants can get into major trouble if they don't pass inspection. Sometimes even if they do pass inspection and something happens to the food.”

“Don't worry.” He leaned forward, placing his hand over hers. “You're doing a great job. Your breakfast is a dozen times better than what Clarice was putting out.”

She gave him a slightly shaky smile. “Thanks. I appreciate the confidence.”

He gave her a fairly shaky smile of his own. She seemed awfully unnerved over what was actually a minor faux pas on his part. Assuming it had even been a faux pas. Maybe she'd had a bad experience with a substandard restaurant in the past. She'd said she'd worked in several places. Maybe one of them was a nightmare.

He started to ask her some more pointed questions when the waitress came back to their table again. “Anything else tonight? Another beer?”

Given that they'd each had two, that didn't seem like a great idea, particularly since they might end up at the Blarney Stone after this. “No, that's okay, Bonnie. Just give me the check.”

He walked Lizzy through the door to the Blarney Stone, wondering how he could get the conversation back on a neutral topic while he scanned the tables for friendly faces. Maybe having a few other people around would help her relax. All of a sudden she seemed tense.

Of course some of that tension might be from wondering what was going to happen when they got back to Praeger House tonight. He was sort of tense about that himself—in reality, he didn't have a clue.

“There's Nona,” he said, raising his hand to wave.

“I really need to get back,” Lizzy said quickly. “I've still got some prep to do for tomorrow. But why don't you stay? I don't want to ruin your evening.”

He felt like shaking his head. Where the hell had that come from? “I'll walk you back.”

She shook her head. “You don't have to.”

He frowned, trying to figure out just what the hell was going on. “Sure I do.”

He followed her out the front door of the bar. She wrapped her arms around herself in the cool night air.

“Here.” He reached for her, draping his arm across her shoulders and pulling her close.