The Marriage Recipe (6 page)

“Colin's never been serious about anyone,” Kim announced, ignoring the proclamation about Marco, whom she'd never liked in the first place, especially when he'd tried to talk to her about the Old Country the one time they'd met.

“I was committed and I don't want to get involved on the rebound. I have no intention of just finding some other man to keep my bed warm.”

Her mother crossed herself and Rachel rolled her eyes. Her mother had been a virgin until she'd married. She also still went to church every Sunday and didn't miss a holy day. Compared with her, Rachel was quite the heathen. “Sorry,” she mumbled.

“Oh, lighten up, Adrienne. You know how kids these days are,” Kim said. “Rachel's a grown woman. You married at twenty. I'd be worried about her if she hadn't, well…”

“I just don't want to hear the details,” Adrienne said. “Feel free to use the kitchen. We usually finish the next day's prep work around five. It's yours after that.”

“Thanks,” Rachel said. “The arrangement is only temporary, though. My goal has always been to open a place in New York and sell on the Internet from it. I love the vibes of the city. But I can't tell you enough how much I appreciate your support. I'm very lucky.”

“Sweetie, you're family. This is what family does. We only wish you'd let us do more to help you,” Adrienne said.

“What you've done is plenty,” Rachel insisted. She stood and hugged them. “I love you both dearly.”

“Us, too,” Kim said.

Another round of hugs followed, and then Rachel found herself alone again. She glanced at the clock. Kim and Adrienne opened the diner by 6:00 a.m. so they were usually in bed by eight. Since tomorrow Rachel's shift didn't start until eleven, she could sleep in a little if she wanted. Not that she was tired. She was still on edge from finding Colin Morris in his darkened bedroom, flashing code back at her.

What had made her grab the flashlight and contact him when she'd seen the light go on in his bedroom? She'd instinctively known it was him, and no one else. She sprawled out on her back and stared up at the double bed's lace canopy. She had to be the world's biggest idiot. Not only had she not suspected Marco's indiscretions, but she'd just acted like a middle-school girl with a crush—on a man who only wanted to help her with her legal issues.

Which he was doing because she was a friend, or like his sister. Nothing more. She'd clear up any misconceptions tomorrow. If not, the people in this small town would get the wrong idea and start pairing her with Colin. That would be bad, especially since her stay was temporary.

Besides, she didn't like him in a romantic sense. Maybe she had long ago. But now, not one bit. Although she
had
just flashed him messages across the night. Chalk that up to being one of the many mistakes she'd made with Colin Morris. Well, no more. She'd make it perfectly plain they were going to keep everything professional. She'd straighten out this crush nonsense. Tomorrow, they'd clear the air.

By ten minutes to noon, Rachel was a basket case. She'd never been so nervous. She wiped her palms on her chef's jacket, smearing the white icing that had attached itself to her fingers.

It probably didn't help her psyche, either, that she hadn't slept well. She'd read a book until almost midnight because she'd had insomnia. Then, when she'd finally fallen asleep, just about every dream had been of Colin Morris. They'd been children in one, playing down at the creek. They'd been high schoolers in another, dancing cheek to cheek at the prom they'd never attended. The last dream had been the most erotic, and Rachel blushed, thinking of what she'd done in that one.

She grabbed a tray of pastries, used her hip to push open the kitchen door and carried the tray out to the display case by the cash register. She was putting out the various pastries her grandmother had baked. Within two days, Rachel planned to have everything in the display case be her own wares.

She busied herself with setting everything inside, bending over to rearrange the pumpkin bread she'd placed there at eleven. Already, half of it had been sold.

Her mind drifted back to the last dream, the one that still haunted her. In it, Colin had looked exactly as he had in his office—minus all his clothes. And she and Colin hadn't been in his office but in a bedroom, on a bed. Naked and intertwined.

She'd woken up in a hot sweat, breathing heavily. So much for not liking the man. If her very realistic dream was any indication, she wanted to jump him. She was interested in him, at least sexually. Not good. She had to get those lustful urges behind her.

Rachel completed reorganizing the same moment legs clad in expensive suit pants suddenly appeared in front of the display case. She pulled back slowly, careful not to whack her head on the top of the case.

The object of last night's lust stood there, a grin covering his face and immediately sending shivers throughout her body. Last night she'd kissed him. Sure, only in her subconscious, but having the flesh-and-blood Colin standing a mere countertop away was throwing her equilibrium off in a manner she had never experienced.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hey,” Rachel said, ignoring her grandmother's pointed interest even though she was ringing up a customer. “Kim's busy, so I can seat you. Will anyone be joining you?” Rachel reached for the menus.

He shook his head. “Actually, I know I said we'd talk, but the judge has made his decision on one of my cases, and I have to run over to the courthouse.” Colin glanced around the diner, which was packed with the noontime prime-rib-craving lunch crowd. Rachel followed his gaze, recognizing most of the diners as locals who came and ate here a couple of times a week. “I phoned in and have a takeout order. Do you have a minute?”

“I guess.” Not that there was anywhere private at Kim's to talk.

Colin seemed to sense this, as well. He hesitated. “I won't be finished with the paperwork until about four today. Could we meet for dinner? I'd like to discuss your matter further. The partners met and we're taking you on as a client.”

Relief swept over Rachel, vanquishing the apprehension she'd felt when Colin had mentioned dinner. This wasn't a date. Just a lawyer-client thing.

Although, did lawyers invite their clients to dinner?

“Rachel, you're needed in the kitchen. Your timer went off,” Adrienne called. The swinging door closed behind her.

“I've got to go,” Rachel said.

“How about I pick you up at five?” Colin proposed.

“I can meet you,” she replied as Kim put a white carryout sack in front of Colin.

“I'll pick you up. It's not a problem. I know where you live,” Colin said. “Kim, put this on my tab, will you?”

“Already done,” Kim said.

“Thanks.” Colin lifted the bag and left, the jingling bell on the door signaling his departure.

Rachel exhaled the breath she hadn't realized she was holding, something her grandmother immediately noticed.

“He looks good in a suit, doesn't he?” Kim mused as she reached for a customer's ticket.

“He's just a friend.”

“Uh-huh.” Kim smiled at the elderly gentleman. “Was everything okay?”

“Perfect,” the man said. “Never tried it here before.”

“Well, I hope you come back,” Kim said, taking the money he offered and getting his change.

“I'm sure I will,” the man promised, and Rachel used the moment to escape into the kitchen. Colin Morris had looked superb. Regal, in a sense. Naked or suited, he should be outlawed. Locked away out of her sight and forbidden from being in her fantasies. She reached for a cooling loaf pan and turned out the banana bread onto a wire rack.

She'd planned on baking tonight and now she was going to dinner, instead. She calmed her heart, told herself she was being silly. Her goal was to get back to New York, so Colin's legal advice took precedence. She was not going to let him get under her skin.

 

C
OLIN WAS PROMPT
. She'd watched him drive up at exactly 5:00 p.m. and met him on the porch steps. “What,” he said, grinning at her as he exited the car. “Don't even tell me you thought I was going to be late.”

She arched an eyebrow at him. The Colin of yesterday hadn't been known for his promptness. He also hadn't been known for driving anything four-door, and probably would have died before owning the sensible gray Saturn Aura in front of her.

“Yes, it's mine,” he said, reading her mind. “It's practical—but still sporty.”

“Of course it is” she said. The car screamed,
I am now in my thirties and willing to grow up.

“But not willing to sacrifice,” Colin said, holding the door open. He laughed. “I know that's exactly what you were thinking. You had me pegged for some low-slung, two-seater sports car. Well, everything I drive has to have four seats and must be able to fit at least two bags of golf clubs.”

“Still playing?”

“As often as I can, although not as much as I'd like,” Colin said. “Pretty busy with work lately. I figure this is my year to make full partner, especially at the rate I'm going. The latter part of last year wasn't too shabby.”

“So you aren't a full partner yet?” Colin was family; Rachel had expected him to be a shoo-in.

He shut the door and she leaned back against the leather upholstery. The car wasn't new, but it still smelled that way.

Colin climbed in and fired up the engine. “Nope, not yet. Christina was hired as a full partner and that was before Bruce even got his promotion.”

They drove down the long, tree-lined street, which seemed so much smaller now that they were no longer children racing Big Wheels or bicycles. Now that spring was right around the corner, it was finally starting to make its presence known. They had a couple more weeks before the leaves popped, but winter was definitely on the way out. Daylight savings time would also begin soon. Rachel smiled. Living in New York, she'd gotten used to “springing forward.” Her mother hadn't quite adjusted; the state of Indiana had only started setting clocks forward one hour in the spring a few years ago.

“So where are we going?” Rachel asked, lowering the visor. With the days growing longer, the sun was still above the horizon and wouldn't dip below for about another hour, give or take a minute or two.

“To the River Club,” Colin said. He turned down a narrow two-lane road and headed toward the outskirts of town.

“Never heard of it,” Rachel said. Morrisville wasn't known for its culinary delights. In fact, since Kim's closed at three, many people ate dinner at the public golf-course restaurant or at the hospital cafeteria in Batesville. Both were considered fine dining. Rachel gave an involuntary shudder. She'd once agreed, until she'd moved to Manhattan and learned how provincial her life had been.

“Cold?” Colin asked, seeing her second shiver.

“No, I'm fine.” Her outfit wasn't the problem. She'd worn black slacks, boots and a red V-neck sweater. The day had been warm, but the air would cool down around seven so she'd brought a field coat. She'd just have to trust Colin's judgment in choosing dining establishments.

They were about ten miles outside of town now, and Rachel frowned. “Why are we at the airport? Did they reopen the café?”

The airport had had a small diner, but the owners had sold everything, retired and moved to Florida a few years back.

“No,” Colin said.

He was being deliberately evasive. “We're eating here?” she prodded.

“Nope.” He parked his car outside a single-story brick building. A sign, like the cheap kind you find at any hardware store, proudly proclaimed Office. Another sign, on a door about ten feet to the left, proclaimed Lounge. The café building had been demolished, replaced with an airplane hangar.

“Uh, I don't get it,” Rachel said, glancing around. The place was pretty quiet, save from the whirring of a power tool in an airport hangar about a hundred feet to her left.

Colin opened his trunk and withdrew a black duffel.

“We're picnicking?” He'd really lost her, and she wasn't one who usually found herself in the dark.

He shook his head. “No. I told you we're eating at the River Club. Our reservation is for seven. Come on. Our transportation is right over there.”

He pointed to where a blue-and-white plane sat parked near a few others.

“We're flying? In that?” The smallest aircraft she'd ever flown in was one of those regional jets that sat fifty. She'd clutched her seat the entire uncomfortable and bumpy flight.

Colin grinned. “Yeah, that's our plane. Isn't it great? It's a Cessna 182. Three hundred horsepower. You'll love it. These seats are more comfortable than those in commercial first class. Besides, how else did you think we'd get to Chicago?”

“Chicago?”

“That's where the River Club is,” Colin said.

She looked around, searching for someone—anyone—who could tell her she'd entered the twilight zone. But Colin was already striding over to the plane as if he knew what he was doing. He opened the left-side door, set the duffel on the seat and removed some headphones and his cell, before following with various charts and spiral-bound books. Then he zipped the bag, opened a door in the tail and put the bag inside. “If you want, you can put your purse back here. Or you can stow it at your feet. Your choice. Climb in. You're in the front right seat. I had them gas up the plane already, but I've still got to run the standard takeoff checks.”

“Okay,” Rachel said. She glanced up and down the airport runway, preferring to stay outside. She set her purse next to his bag after taking a moment to shut off her cell phone. Colin seemed to be everywhere at once, doing what he told her were preflight checks. “So where's the pilot? Shouldn't he be doing this?” she finally asked, although really, part of her already knew the answer.

Colin finished checking their fuel capacity from the top of the plane and he hopped down onto the concrete. “He
is
doing this.”

Rachel's jaw dropped. “So you're really flying us in this.”

“Yep. I use this baby all the time. Remember Mike Mertz from high school? Four of us, Mike included, just bought one similar to this, only a year newer. We'll take delivery next month.”

She'd heard rumors. Maybe her mother had told her, but Rachel hadn't really believed any of it. Colin wasn't committed enough to anything. Flying required tons of devotion, flight time. It wasn't like golf, where you whacked a little ball around the green and hoped for the best. Even she could do that. “So you have your pilot's license.”

“I first soloed right after I turned nineteen. I began before my freshman year of college. My first six were a graduation present. When I got to Indiana University I found the nearest airfield, got a part-time job and started lessons.”

“I heard you partied all through college,” Rachel said.

“I wasn't a saint,” Colin replied. He walked around the airplane and opened the passenger-side door. “Okay, have to give you the spiel. In the event of an emergency, lift up on the silver handle and push outward. Meet by the tail of the plane after we stop.”

“You aren't making me feel very safe.”

“This plane is one of the safest in the air, and I don't take unnecessary risks. Climb in,” he said.

Rachel entered the aircraft and settled into her seat. He was right; it was comfortable. “There's a steering wheel.”

“Actually, it's called a yoke. The plane has an all-glass cockpit, too.” He gestured to the blank screens below the front windshield. “You'll see all those instruments light up in a few minutes.”

Colin shut the door behind her and she secured her seat belt. He slid in next to her, grabbed a binder and began to go through the takeoff checklist. “Put your headphones on,” he advised, and his fingers grazed hers as he handed her the set. “Plug those into the connectors by your cup holders.”