Authors: Marianna Roberg
For a moment, he looked surprised at her expression, then speedily responded, "I'm hurt you think I no longer have charmingly boyish good looks."
Jaina pretended to study him. "Well... The makeup improves stuff."
He snorted at the jibe. "Hence cookies."
She took them, being careful not to make contact with his fingers. With the mood she was in, that wouldn't be good for her composure. "Thank you."
She prized the lid off and pulled out a cookie. They were golden brown, with tempting chocolate morsels inside. Her mouth watered as she regarded it. Carefully, she took a bite.
Then she started coughing.
Colin was instantly alarmed. "Are you all right?"
Jaina forced the mouthful down. "Um. Did you make these?"
He looked reluctant to admit to it. "Uh. Yes."
Recovered from her choking fit, Jaina set the cookies down on the counter. "Too much flour."
"Oh. Well. I can't cook, can I?" He gave her a "charmingly boyish" sheepish smile.
Jaina plucked a paper towel off the roll nearby and wiped her hands. "I can give you lessons, I guess."
"YES!!!" he exclaimed, then hastily rearranged his features and said calmly, "That would be very kind of you."
"A thirty-two year old bachelor who can't cook." Jaina shook her head. "It's shameful."
"Um. Yes. I'm sad and pathetic and in the autumn years of my life." He gave her pleading puppy-dog eyes, an effect somewhat spoiled by the hint of a smirk on his full lips.
Jaina averted her eyes, stomach doing gymnastics abruptly. "You're hardly over the hill, bub."
"Oh."
Her green eyes sparkled, laughing at him. "For such a brilliant comedian, you're awfully slow on the uptake."
He cleared his throat. "Happens in my age. We get old. Can't think as well, get slower."
"Oh, puh-leeeeze! You're thirty-two!" She threw a wedge-shaped makeup sponge at him.
Colin caught the sponge. He looked at it as he said, "I can only be smug over what I once had. Millions falling at my feet."
Snickering under her breath, Jaina put the lid back on the cookies. "Are there even millions
in
New Zealand?"
Ignoring that, he continued, "Now I resort to store-bought cookies as bribes so I can look good."
"You said you baked those."
For a moment, he gaped at her, his lightning-fast wit momentarily stalled. Finally, he said, "I lied. The oven frightens me. I cower in fear of it."
Amused, Jaina said, "Okay, well, I guess showing you how to be its master will be your first lesson."
"Great. Is tonight good?"
She hesitated. First she'd agreed to take bike riding lessons, and now she was going to give him cooking lessons. And this was
after
she'd resolved to avoid him! "Fine," she sighed.
He gave her a knee-melting grin. "I'll pic
k you up at eight!"
As he dashed out, dropping the sponge, Jaina muttered her newly-acquired mantra. "What have I got myself into?"
♥♥♥
That evening, Jaina was running late when she got home. She had just enough time to shower and change clothes before C
olin arrived. She was searching through the cupboards for a cookbook when the doorbell rang.
Jaina dropped the cookbook she was holding and bolted for the door, vaulting over a rather surprised Jason, who was lying on the floor, playing "Candyland" with Clarissa, who, incidentally, was trouncing him.
"Where's the orc horde?" Jason called, sitting up.
Ignoring her brother, Jaina smoothed her hair, feeling foolish. Of
course
he wasn't going to care about her hair! Then she opened the door.
Colin smiled in greeting. "Hey. You ready?"
"Just a minute. I've got to fetch the cookbook. Come on in."
"Jay..." Jason met them in the foyer. He trailed off when he saw that his little sister had a
male
visitor.
"Jason, this is Colin." Jaina stared daggers at her brother, pleading him to keep his mouth shut. "Colin, this is my brother, Jason."
For once, Jason obeyed his sister's mental command, giving her a vague, momentary hope that she'd finally developed telepathic abilities.
"Pleased to meet you," Jason said pleasantly, sticking out his hand.
"Same," Colin said, returning the handshake. "You have a lovely home."
"Thanks." Jason looked at Jaina. He raised one eyebrow.
"I'm giving Colin cooking lessons, in return for bike lessons he's giving me," Jaina said. "We're going over to his place."
"That's nice," Jason said, voice blandly pleasant, though his sister could see one vein in his temple bulging. What, she wondered, was her brother thinking?
"Do you know where the cookie book is?" she asked, in an effort to distract him.
"You'd have to ask Teniel. Actually, I think I'll do that."
Jason ran up the stairs. Jaina tried not to sigh as she turned to Colin.
"This could take a bit. C'mon, I'll introduce you to Chris and Clarissa."
Colin shrugged, and followed her into the living room, where Chris had taken over where his father had left. The boy looked up briefly, but Clarissa stared at Colin.
"Whozat?" she asked, eyes huge in a sea of freckles.
"This is Colin," Jaina said. She glanced at him, then motioned to the kids. "My niece and nephew, Christian and Clarissa."
Her visitor nodded, smiling. "Hello."
Clarissa turned wide eyes from Colin to her aunt. "Is he your boyfriend?" she asked in awed tones.
For one long, horrified moment, Jaina stared at Rissa, trying to squelch a tide of red she was certain was flooding her face. She studiously avoided looking at Colin.
Fortunately, it was he who saved her. He gave the little girl one of his smiles, and said, "Jaina is just a friend."
"That's too bad," Clarissa said. "You're cute."
Jaina prayed that the ground would open up and suck her in.
"Thank you," Colin said solemnly. Was Jaina mistaken, or could she hear a hint of laughter in his voice? Was it aimed at her, or the child?
"You s
hould
be," the little girl continued. "Aunt Jaina always talks about you."
Death was the next wish on her list. Jaina made a gurgling noise, face flaming, but was fortunately saved from saying anything by Teniel's entrance into the room.
The woman looked from Jaina's scarlet face to Colin's carefully schooled features, then to the little girl who was staring at them in fascination. Obviously, Jaina was in need of some rescue. "Jaina, could you help me find the cookbook?"
Jaina almost tripped, she stood up so fast. "Certainly!"
Behind her, she could have sworn Colin was giggling.
♥♥♥
As they got in the car, Colin motioned to the cookbook Jaina carried. "What's that?"
"A cookbook," she said, wondering if he'd been totally absent earlier. She held it up so he could see "The Cookie Book! 101 Cookie Recipes" clearly written on the fro
nt. "I wasn't sure if you had one. Or the ingredients."
"Uh... Considering how often I eat out... I probably don't."
"Well, then, let's stop at the store, shall we?"
He shrugged, and pointed the car for the store nearest his house.
A good hour later, Jaina--carrying the bag of vanilla, brown sugar, chocolate chips, and cocoa powder--followed Colin into his immaculate townhouse. The owner himself carried the flour, some new containers, and the brand-new cookie sheet.
"Whoa," she said, stopping inside the door, taking in all the white, white, and more white. There were a few paintings that Jaina wouldn't under torture call legitimate art, and they added a few splashes of much-needed color. Other than that...
"You like it?" Colin asked, noticing he'd lost her and coming back from the kitchen doorway.
"It's depressing!" she cried. "It's very post-modern, Frank Lloyd Wright-on-crack, which is interesting, but... How can you
live
here?"
At the look on his face, she amended, "It's not the furniture, it's the lack of color. It's a little, um... Frankly, it reminds of a room with padded walls. Or a psychotic homicidal computer named Hal."
"Well, it's good you don't live here, then," he said, a hint of offended pride in his voice.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I know this stuff's expensive, and it matches fantastically, but... It doesn't seem very you."
"What
would
seem 'me'?" he asked, a puzzled look settling on his bold features.
Jaina shrugged. She knew she was just covering for her own discomfort. "Well, the modern look works, it's just the, uh, white. I could see you comfortably in Nelson Moss' apartment in
Sweet November
."
"I haven't seen that."
"Okay, now I'm making you watch it. Personally, Sara's apartment is more my style, but..."
"Sara Whitman?" he asked, referring to his co-star, who played Nora, the main character.
"No, Sara Deever, Charlize Theron's character in the movie."
"Ah." He looked around the apartment for a moment, then motioned for her to follow him into the kitchen, which was just as empty, stark, and colorless.
Jaina carefully set her bag on the counter. "I'm sorry. I really should think before I speak."
Colin shrugged. "I probably
do
need more color around here. No wonder I don't spend more time inside. All of my time is spent on the computer or out in the garden, either gardening or reading a book in the hammock."
"I've heard about this garden. You'll have to show me while the cookies are baking."
Colin nodded. He looked at the baking goods spread across the counter. "All right, what do we do first?"
Jaina flipped the book open to the recipe they needed. "Two and a half cups of flour, three-fourths cup sugar, same of the brown sugar, two eggs, teaspoon vanilla, half a teaspoon baking soda, a cup of butter. And the chips. This says for three-quarters of the bag-"
"I vote for all of them."
Jaina grinned. "My kind of man."
Colin cooed, "Oh, really?"
She rolled her eyes. "Cram it, Pierce."
Together, they gathered the ingredients. Jaina demonstrated measuring, then began mixing the ingredients together.
"Places like this bother you, don't they?" he asked suddenly.
Jaina jerked, scattering a handful of chocolate chips across the counter. Her green eyes were wide as she looked at him. "What?"
"My house. Places like this. What was the term? 'Postmodern, Frank Lloyd Wright on crack.'"
She eyed him warily. "I don't know what you mean."
Colin picked up one of the chips. He put it in his mouth. "C'mon. I've seen how you love old buildings, Victorians, castles, even half-collapsed barns. The set for Walter's place, and for Nora's, you're perfectly comfortable. But Kevin's place, my house, even the hospital set. They unnerve you."
She sighed, thinking he could see everything, and yet nothing. "Okay, yes, they do. Happy?"
Colin shrugged. "Why do you think that is?"
"I dunno. According to my mother, the New Age fruitcake, it could have been a trauma either in my early childhood, or in a past life."
He stopped with a chocolate morsel halfway to his lips. "You're kidding."
"Nope." Jaina smiled ruefully. "I don't have a thing against New Agers. But when my mom hit menopause, she went cuckoo."
"How so?"
"Well, she was a normal mom, thanks to Grandma and Grandpa Solomon."
Colin leaned on his forearms. "Were they overly strict or something?"
“No, they were greasers."
"Greasers?" He looked confused.
Jaina nodded. "Yeah, you ever see the movie
Grease
? Y'know John Travolta's character? My grandpa was just like him in high school."
She finished gathering the chips and put them in the dough. "Grandma keeps insisting that the guy who wrote that was in their group of friends, and it's just the tale of their friends, with the names changed to protect the innocent. Grandpa says it isn't."
She paused, then added, "He says that Grandma's nickname in high school really was Rizzo."
His expression was one of total disbelief.
"C'mon, I'm totally kidding!" she laughed. "About the
Grease
part, anyway."
She pushed the bowl across the counter and made Colin stir for a while. "Anyway, Mom was, like, the opposite of her parents growing up."
"Like Sandy?"
"Just like her. She met Dad when she was eighteen, the year she graduated. They went to rival high schools. They got married when they were nineteen, and Jason was born a year later. So Mom was June Cleaver to a T, until about three years ago. Maybe four. Now she's..."