Love in the Morning (23 page)

His lips touched the back of her neck, sliding down to nip at her shoulder, as his fingers moved inside her. His thumb rubbed back and forth across her clit as his fingers plunged deeper. Her hips pressed back against him, and she could feel his cock straining against her back. She reached for him, but he pushed her hand away gently.

“This is for you,” he whispered. “Just for you.”

She brought her hands to her breasts then, rubbing against her nipples as the pressure built like molten gold in her belly. His legs wrapped around hers, his breath warm against her face, his tongue tracing the outline of her ear. And then she was roaring over the top, the light shattering behind her eyelids.

“So good,” she moaned. “So good.”

He loosened his hold and she turned, reaching for the condom on the bedside table. “Now you.”

He closed his eyes, shaking his head. “It's your deal here, Lizzy. All yours. Whatever you want. Whatever makes you feel good.”

“And this is what I want. You. Inside me. Now. Nothing will make me feel better than that, believe me.” She smoothed the condom over his arousal, opening her legs to pull him closer. He paused for a moment, and then entered her slowly, pressing her wide.

Her breath caught in her throat as his clear green gaze held her, and then he began to move. Slowly, slowly, far too slowly. She groaned as her head fell back, eyes drifting closed.

“No,” he grated. “Keep your eyes open, Lizzy. Keep looking at me. I want to watch you.”

She moved her hands down his flanks, squeezing the firm muscles of his backside. His eyes were burning green in the dim light, with flecks of brown at the center. She watched the muscles of his jaw harden with the effort of holding back, of keeping the movement steady, controlled, of driving her toward her own peak.

The heat grew again, moving down her belly, her abdomen, her legs flexing against him. “Ah, Clark,” she moaned. “Yes. Like that.”

“Come on, Lizzy,” he murmured. “Come with me. Let me see.”

And then her body was jerking against him in waves of heat and light. Her muscles clenched tight around his thickness, tremors rippling through her, her body quaking.

“That's it,” he whispered. “That's it.”

And then he was with her, control shattered, his body plunging. She heard him cry out as he drove her up again into another shuddering climax, and she wrapped her arms and legs around him, holding on tight.

He leaned his forehead against hers, his breath warm against her cheek. “God, Lizzy,” he murmured. “Just…”

The best.
She closed her eyes, snuggling close to him again. It was the best. He was the best. She'd been dancing around
love
for a while now, trying not to say it, not even to think it. But there was no other word to use. She loved him.

And it didn't make any difference. Love just tangled up an already complicated situation. Maybe she loved him. Maybe he even loved her. But if the whole thing blew up tomorrow, she'd still pack up her battered car with everything she owned and head off down the road. It was one thing for her to suffer because of her psycho cousin. It was another thing for her to take Clark and his hotel down with her. She wouldn't do that. She couldn't.

“Ssh,” he murmured against her hair.

“I didn't say anything.” Or anyway she really hoped she hadn't. The things she was thinking now were definitely not things she was ready to share. Possibly not ever.

“You're thinking. I can hear your brain whirring away.” He slid his hand along her shoulder blade. “Just give it a rest, Lizzy. Let it go for once.”

Right. Not likely.
“I'll give it my best shot.”

“It'll be all right. I promise.” He kissed her hair, her cheek, the line of her jaw, the tip of his tongue leaving a warm line on her skin.

“You're trying to distract me,” she murmured.

“I am.” He nodded. “Is it working?”

“Maybe.” She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Of course if we keep this up, neither of us will be ready for the Gala tomorrow night.”

He looked down at her, green eyes dark again. “Worth it, though.”

For a moment she hesitated. But this might be their last night together. Their last night before the
Lovely Ladies of LA
blew everything to hell.

“Worth it.” She nodded, running her tongue along his collarbone. “Absolutely worth it.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Clark was way too busy setting up the Praeger House booth the next day to think about the fact that he was running on only a couple of hours of shut-eye. Of course, when he considered the reasons for his virtual lack of sleep, they put a smile on his face. But that didn't keep him from consuming at least a quart of coffee an hour just to keep his eyes open.

The Gala was set to take place in the ballroom of one of the snootier hotels at the resort area. In Clark's not-particularly-considered opinion, the Praeger House ballroom was classier, but this was the resort area's event, and they hadn't asked him. The room had been subdivided into aisles with fabric-draped tables. Their booth was placed along a side wall, which gave them an area they could close off at the back with a curtain. There was enough room for a couple of platters on the table at the front, along with the publicity photos of Praeger House and the engraved award from the Best of the Box. The warming tray for the tarts would be set up behind the curtain at the back, along with the cooler and the containers of muffins.

Which meant Lizzy could stay out of sight.

He wasn't sure how he felt about that exactly. He was still slightly pissed at the idea she needed to stay hidden from her cousin. But at the same time, he wanted her to feel safe, even protected. Not that she seemed to require his protection, so far as he could tell. Still, when push came to shove, he was going to do his best to keep her from ending up in her cousin's crosshairs, particularly when he considered what might happen if she did. No way was he letting Lizzy take off down the mountain by herself.

By four, they'd managed to get everything set up, and he'd consumed enough caffeine to stay awake for a couple of weeks or so. Desi arrived with several cartons of muffins but minus Lizzy. Clark felt a quick shiver of unease.

“Where's the chef?” he asked.

Desi shrugged. “Finishing up on the tarts. She told me to come back for them after I dropped these off.” He nodded toward the muffin cartons, now stacked at the back of the booth.

“Are the tarts done?” Another shiver, this time at the possibility that their star nosh wouldn't be ready in time.

“Pretty much.” Desi shrugged again. “It takes time to bake three hundred tarts, even with the ovens we've got. I'll head back over and pick the stuff up.”

Clark made a fast decision. “You stay here and start setting up the muffins. I'll go back to Praeger House and get everything else.” Including his fugitive chef. It was better than waiting around to see if she'd actually show.

Not that he thought she wouldn't. Not really.

The slight prickle of anxiety he'd been feeling kicked up a notch when he got to the kitchen. The empty kitchen.

Three massive coolers sat on the counter, and a quick inspection confirmed that they were full of bacon and egg tarts. At least Lizzy had finished the cooking before taking off.

Stop it. She hasn't taken off. Of course, she finished the tarts. They were the most important thing on her menu. She's not abandoning you.

He pushed back through the door to the dining room, wondering where to check first. Most of her clothes were still in her own apartment, but some of her makeup and hair stuff was at his place. Which was probably sort of inconvenient for her now that he thought about it. Maybe he should give her a key.

Whoa. A key?
He did a quick check of his bachelor Spidey Sense. No particular tingling, so far as he could tell. Just that anxiety about Lizzy's current whereabouts.

He started toward the door to the lobby at the same time that it swung open and the object of his obsession strode in. She was wearing an outfit he'd never seen before. A double-breasted white chef's coat with black piping and black-and-white striped pants.
Annalisa
was embroidered above the left pocket. Her hair was pulled back so severely it made his scalp hurt to look at her. She wore a black chef's beanie pulled down on her forehead.

It felt totally perverse that he still wanted to jump her, even when she was dressed in clothes that seemed designed to make her look as unsexy as possible.

“Hi,” she said, her brow wrinkling as much as the pulled-back hair would allow. “Is everything okay?”

“Everything's great. I brought the van over to pick up the tarts. And you.”
And to reassure myself that you hadn't cut and run. Yet.

She still looked a little concerned, but she moved past him toward the kitchen. “Okay. The tarts are all set. We can probably get the whole thing in one trip.”

“Right.” He followed her into the kitchen, then watched her check the coolers and the small bag of kitchen tools sitting next to them.

Finally, she nodded. “We're ready. Let's do this thing.”

“In a minute.” He leaned forward, cupping her face in his hands, then touched his lips to hers. He hadn't meant to make it any more than a quick kiss for luck, but giving Lizzy Apodaca a quick kiss was clearly beyond him. He tasted heat and spice and something indefinably her. His body leaned against hers automatically, and he felt her arms wind around his waist.

Work. Contest. Time.
He raised his head a few moments later, staring down into those molten chocolate eyes. “Good luck, Lizzy.”

She nodded, drawing in a deep breath. “You too.”

They'd probably need it. But he intended to go on kissing Lizzy Apodaca for the foreseeable future, no matter what happened. And a lot more than kissing, if he had anything to say about it.

Back at the resort, the ballroom had begun to fill up with contestants. In the booth next to theirs, Ted Saltzman had set up an ersatz bar with a couple of blenders, several bottles of tequila and Triple Sec, a bowl full of limes, and Ronnie. Clark figured Ronnie was great as eye candy, but he wasn't sure what else she'd be doing, maybe checking ID's. He watched her flash that dazzling smile at one of the hotel managers, who promptly dropped his cell phone into the bowl of limes.

Clark turned back to Ted. “You're promoting her to bartender?”

Ted shrugged. “I make the margaritas, Ronnie pours them. I figure the line will be out the door before the end of the first hour.”

Clark nodded. “Seems likely.”

Ted glanced at Lizzy in her Super Chef outfit as she arranged tarts on a silver platter. “Is she supposed to be incognito?”

Clark shook his head. “She's supposed to be a professional chef. I mean she
is
a professional chef, and she's supposed to look like one.”

Ted grimaced. “She's also a gorgeous woman normally.”

“She's still a gorgeous woman,” Clark said between his teeth. The last thing he wanted to do was argue over Lizzy's gorgeousness. Particularly when he considered it a settled point.

Ted nodded quickly. “She is. No question. Want a margarita?”

Clark considered the comfort of having a couple of shots of tequila versus the need for a sharp eye and a clear head once the
Lovely Ladies of LA
arrived. Plus, there was the fact that the combination of tequila and the excessive caffeine he'd already consumed might be unpredictable. “Not just yet.”

“I'll save some for when this whole thing is over. We can toast to the end of the Gala.”

Toasting struck Clark as a great idea. “You're on. I'll bring Lizzy.”

“Do that.” Ted turned toward the main ballroom doors, checking his watch. “Five more minutes and they let the first wave in.”

Clark squared his shoulders. “The sooner we start, the sooner we finish.” And the sooner he could take Lizzy back to Praeger House for a little post-Gala celebration.

Or commiseration. But he wasn't ready to consider that possibility yet.

*****

The first hour was busy enough that Lizzy didn't really have time to think about who might be wandering around the ballroom. She had to keep a supply of tarts on the warming tray while pulling muffins out of the cartons to make sure Desi had enough food set out for tasting on the silver serving platters. Both of them were also fielding questions from tourists about their menu, and a few more about the buffet. Fortunately, Clark was on hand to take care of any questions about the hotel.

Both the muffins and the tarts disappeared rapidly. She wondered if she should hold back any for the second and third hours, but decided not to. If they ran out of food, they could close up early and duck out before the television cameras showed up.

Of course, that wouldn't help Praeger House much in terms of publicity. On the other hand, it might avoid the kind of publicity the hotel would be better off without.

During a momentary lull, Desi grinned back at her. “This is great. We're going to run out of everything.”

“Of course we are. Our stuff is excellent.” She managed a smile that was sort of genuine. At least she could unclench her jaw muscles for a few seconds.

Desi looked a little dubious about her smile, but he went back to handing out muffins and tarts to the ever-increasing lines of diners.

Halfway through the second hour, a sudden commotion at the main entrance had heads turning around the ballroom. The crowd seemed to move back a few steps only to surge forward again. The lights in the ballroom were brighter, the noise louder.

The
Lovely Ladies of LA
had arrived.

Lizzy fought her kneejerk reaction to move behind the curtain at the back of the booth. She needed to stay where she was so that she could get the tarts and muffins to Desi when he needed them. Besides, the lights and cameras were on the far side of the room. Plenty of time to hide when they started moving around—it wasn't like an entire television crew could travel silently from one side of the room to the other.

“I see the circus is in town.”

Lizzy swiveled toward the voice. Dick and Nona stood at the far side of the booth. Nona was munching on a muffin, while Dick eyed the two tarts in his hand. “What's in these?” he asked.

“Oh the usual—salmonella, botulism, a touch of the plague.” Lizzy narrowed her eyes.

Dick gave her an approving grin. “You're learning, kid. Beat 'em to the punch.” He took a bite out of a tart, leaving a scattering of crumbs in his beard. “Not bad. Could use a little Tabasco maybe.”

Lizzy shook her head. “Maybe cayenne if we serve them at Praeger House. But not when we're handing out three hundred of them.”

Nona finished her muffin, licking her fingers. “Terrific.” She smiled in Desi's direction. “Kid's an artist.” She turned back to Lizzy, her smile widening. “Of course, so are you. We've got something for you.”

Lizzy glanced back at the video lights again—they were still on the far side of the room, but they seemed to be moving closer. “What?”

“We need to tell you the whole story.” Dick brushed crumbs off his shirt. “Take a break.”

“Now?” Lizzy looked at the long line of customers in front of Desi, then handed him another plate of tarts. “No. I can't take a break until this is over.”

“Just a couple of minutes,” Nona said briskly. “You need to see this.”

Lizzy shook her head. “I can't leave Desi.”

“Denham,” Dick called. “Come relieve your chef.”

Clark paused in the conversation he'd been having with a couple of men who looked like resort executives, frowning in Dick's direction. “What?”

“I need your chef for a few minutes,” Dick said impatiently. “You can take over the tart duty.”

Clark shrugged and headed for the booth. A few minutes later he was swathed in a black apron, moving tarts from the warming tray to a plate.

Lizzy stood in front of Dick, arms folded and teeth gritted. “This had better be worth it.”

Dick folded his own arms and stared back. “Worth skipping five minutes of putting tarts and muffins on a plate? Yeah, I'd say it is.”

Nona shook her head, shouldering him aside while she reached into her tote bag. “It's actually pretty interesting, although I don't know how much good it'll do.” She handed Lizzy a manila file.

Inside were three grainy photos. Lizzy narrowed her eyes. It looked like Teresa's kitchen, but she couldn't be sure. “What am I looking at?”

“They're screen captures from a video,” Dick explained. “Faisal and I spent a few hours going through what passes for archives at Fairstein Productions. It's all digital now anyway and he can access it from the Web.”

Lizzy's mouth felt dry all of a sudden. “This is from the party?”

Dick shrugged. “According to the date on the tape. Recognize it?”

She narrowed her eyes, studying the somewhat fuzzy figure at the center of the shot. “I don't know who that is, but it's Teresa's kitchen. You can see the trays on the counter, ready to be served.”

“Right. Take another look at the woman—at what she's doing.” Dick leaned forward slightly, pointing at the woman's hands.

“Here. You can't really see it that well just by looking.” Nona handed her a pair of black-framed reading glasses.

Lizzy centered the glasses above the picture, using them to magnify. The woman held something in her hands, something she was angling toward the food on the counter.

Lizzy bit her lip. “What does she have? What's she doing?”

Dick's shrugged. “I can't say for certain. But it looks like she's putting something in your hors d'oeuvres.”

“You can't tell in the video itself?”

He shook his head. “Not exactly. You can see she's close to the food and that she's got something in her hand, but beyond that, no.”

Nona narrowed her eyes at the pictures. “Do you recognize her?”

Lizzy studied the figure at the center of the shot. She tried to make it be Teresa. She tried to make it
not
be Teresa. In the end, she couldn't do either.

She shook her head. “It's too blurry. All you can tell is that it's a woman in a short dress and high heels. But they all had on short dresses and high heels that night. You can't even tell if it's a blonde or a brunette.”