Turtle Soup Page 7

  She thought about Adrien and how he got embarrassed whenever she took him cookies. Had her old fiancée ever loved her? Sadness tugged at her heart. She had loved him for so long, trusted him, but he'd betrayed her. She couldn't forgive, couldn't forget. Even after all this time the pain was still there, a dull ache that yearned to be massaged and kneaded gently until it yielded to something else. Or someone else.

  From the kitchen, the buzzer on Jack's stove broke her reverie. She hurried in and grabbed the meat thermometer. The roast had been partially cooked the night before and she was finishing it off and basting for the night ahead. Hopefully it would still be tender and moist.

  This was an important night. She didn't know who was invited or what it was about but she sensed it was more than just casual friends. Whatever the purpose, she knew Jack needed everything to go smoothly. He wasn't the type that could handle a bump in the road with grace. He'd either shut down or lose that irritating West Indies temper.

  "Smells delicious." Jack came around the bar dressed in khakis and a green polo. He turned the wine bottle in its ice bath and looked over the warmed rolls in the bread basket. "Those look good."

  Sara gave him a reassuring nod. "I don't think you'll have any complaints."

  "I haven't yet." The doorbell rang and he reached out and touched her on the arm. "If you need anything tonight, just ask."

  The sound of Conner stampeding through the living room tore them apart. "How's my favorite cook?"

  "Hi, sailor!"

  "Long time, no see."

  Sara reached up and pecked him on the cheek. "We've missed you at the deli. I've got chocolate chip and macadamia nut in the car for you."

  "You do like me," Conner drawled. He gave her a squeeze.

  There was a young man with him, a short fellow with long hair and a curious expression. "Scott," Conner introduced, and Sara smiled at him. Before Scott could say anything, the doorbell sounded again and Sara shooed them out of the kitchen. She didn't want to be a distraction. "Out," she ordered, "We'll talk later," and both of them headed for the patio.

  All of the guests arrived within twenty minutes of each other and Jack poured everyone a drink. Sara tried not to eavesdrop on the conversations. What pieces she did pick up made little sense. She recognized Byron from the awards banquet so obviously they were people in administration.

  The redhead, Jessica, showed up last of all. She breezed through the house, looked through Sara as if they'd never met at all, and stepped out onto the patio and attached herself to Jack. Sara took the bread baskets out first, moving around the woman as if she cared less. Of course she would be there. Jack had taken her to the banquet. She was beautiful and sophisticated and just the sort of woman that would relish playing the trinket on Jack Brandon's arm.

  "Sara?"

  Sara froze. Jack went around the table introducing her. After everyone gave her a polite greeting, she hurried out. It wasn't her job to be a part of the evening, obviously that was Jessica's. She served soup, waited until she heard scrapping spoons and then carried out the salads.

  She couldn't help but feel intrusive. Jessica's way of halting the conversation while the courses were brought out made her feel insecure. The woman had beautiful shoulders, her revealing turquoise halter played off her hair and daintily freckled shoulders. Her eyes bored into Sara whenever she interrupted their dining. Conner's ability to make people comfortable was a godsend. It helped her stay focused.

  There were dishes to wash and counters to clean in the kitchen. From her sanctuary, Sara counted the minutes down. She'd served the cheesecake almost a half hour after the meal began winding down. Scott came in and used the bathroom. He nodded at her on his way out. If there was anything she could determine about the company he kept close by, Sara knew that Jack's divers were a pleasant and loyal group of guys.

  "Good cheesecake, Sally." Sara looked up to find Jessica leaning over the counter with an empty wine glass.

  "It's Sara."

  Jessica flicked her wrist as if names didn't matter. She held the glass out for Sara to take.

  "I've never had cheesecake after such a heavy meal."

  "I thought it was on the light side."

  "You must have a hearty appetite." Jessica gave Sara a smirk of a smile and walked off before she could respond.

  "Bite me," Sara breathed quietly. She glanced up to catch Jack's eye but he was walking Byron out, gesturing with his hands about something he felt strongly for.

  Conner strolled in from the patio. "We're going to O'Malley's, you want to come?" He motioned at Scott behind him.

  "No." Sara smiled and held up her sudsy hands. "You go ahead. I've got more to do and then I've got to get home."

  "You sure?"

  "I'm sure."

  He leaned over, whispered Yummy! in her ear, and kissed it.

  "Goodnight," Sara laughed. "Go find yourself an Irish girl at the pub."

  "Will do," Conner promised.

  The house fell silent again and Sara sighed. Everything seemed to have gone well. She hoped Jack was pleased. The candles on the patio were still burning so she went out to take care of them. Just as she drew a breath to blow the last one out, someone ran a hand along the back of her neck.

  "That was super. Everyone loved it." Jack turned her around and gave her a small hug. "You're a life saver."

  "You could have ordered take-out," Sara teased.

  He pulled her close, looked her affectionately in the eye and smiled. "Now why would I want to do that? I'm not into Chinese."

  She felt trapped between two lines, one friendship, the other something confusing and unclear. "I hope everyone enjoyed themselves."

  The way he was holding her close made it hard for her to breathe. Her chest tingled, her palms were moist. She knew if he kissed her like he did the first time her knees would buckle right out from under her.

  "Everyone did. Did you?" His dark eyes gazed deep into hers until she couldn't see anything else. All she could feel was her heart pounding and the taut of his stomach against hers. She couldn't find an answer. Just when she thought she would faint with anticipation, he put his mouth softly down on hers and kissed her slow and easy.

  A soft moan escaped before she could stop herself. Lingering traces of peach on his breath tasted like paradise. He tightened his embrace and one hand slid down the small of her back.

  Sara melted. The thumping of her heart seemed to echo off of his chest until her own pulse deafened her. She was falling or so she thought, her fists instinctively grabbing his shirt, kneading the hard muscles of his back, pressing him further into her as they kissed.

  He suddenly gasped as if he'd run out of air, as if they'd inhaled all of the oxygen out of the night sky. Pressing his cheek into hers he moved his mouth over her face, her hair, down her neck, and then like a bolt of lightning Jessica's shrill cry tore them apart.

  "What is this?" Jessica stalked across the patio, the French doors flung wide open at her discovery. She crossed her arms then put her hands on her hips. "What the hell is this?"

  Jack, trying to catch his breath, gave a shake of his head as if in denial of what had just happened.

  "I want to know what's going on." Jessica's voice demanded answers. She was trembling with anger. "You tell me to go and this is why? I knew it. You don't have any business to finish up."

  Jack rebounded, his voice trembling with indignation. "What are you doing here?"

  "I forgot my purse." Her lie was transparent. "Obviously you were trying to get rid of me."

  "I didn't invite you to stay because I didn't want you to." The cruelty of his words punched Sara with guilt. "I don't owe you anything."

  Jessica sucked in her breath at Jack's harsh words. She put a finger in his face and jabbed at his nose. "You inconsiderate—"

  "Who the hell do you think you are?" Jack shouted angrily. Sara drew back as if she didn't recognize him. "I'm not committed to you, and this," he turned around and motioned at Sara, "is none of you
r business." His eyes flashed in the moonlight.

  "I organize this little meeting for you and this is the thanks I get?"

  "Meeting?" Jack threw his hands up, incredulous. "This wasn't a meeting, it was a dinner."

  Jessica swiveled and locked on Sara. "I was trying to do you a favor. Do you think you would have been here if it weren't for me?"

  Sara felt branded as if she'd done something wrong.

  Jack pounced in to defend her. "I would have asked her to help with or without your suggestion." He grabbed Sara by the arm as if afraid she might try to escape. "I don't need your permission, or your advice."

  Jessica looked like she going to explode. The horror of the discovery and her accusing glare were more than Sara could bear. She pulled away from Jack and ran. Scooping up some of her belongings, she hurried out the door.

  She didn't want to be a part of any love triangle. It didn't matter if Jack was committed to Jessica or not; he had invited her over for dinner and then kissed the cook instead. No wonder she hated her. She must have seen through Sara's feelings before Jack did. Maybe even before tonight.

  The Blazer's door slammed on her fingers. She peeled out of the parking lot and sped home, every cell in her body screaming from both pain and a lingering pleasure. Tears trickled from her eyes. She was losing it. She couldn't fall for a man like Jack Brandon. She had to stay focused on what mattered most. And what mattered most was keeping it together so Turtle Soup didn't go under.

  Chapter Twelve

  Jack stared morosely into his glass. He swirled the ocher liquid around, but couldn't get it spinning fast enough to make it funnel without risking it all over the table.

  "Lighten up." Conner said. He had an up-too-late-and-too-much-fun pallor on his face. Scott was slow dancing with a young coed, a few feet away from the table. "It was a good show and good food. I told you, you couldn't go wrong with Sara."

  "That's my problem."

  "Don't worry about Jessica. She'll get over it, they all do. Besides, it will give her some drama."

  "It sure as hell was dramatic," Jack muttered. He leaned his head back and stared at the bar's smoky ceiling. "I don't know what I'm doing."

  "You're getting us a new exhibit."

  "Wonderful." Jack sat up straight. "But does it really matter? We have exhibit space in the largest aquarium in the world. We're getting more research done than we ever dreamed. Granted, it's not hands-on, but once we get all the positions staffed and trained, we'll only have to be here a few weeks a year."

  "But front and center in the world's biggest aquarium."

  "It's not like we're in the basement. We have twice the tank space Buchanan does. He reminds me every time he can corner me."

  "Tell him to shove his eels," Conner growled.

  "As long as I'm on my best behavior and the public's getting educated, why do I need to wine and dine the big boys?"

  "To keep the mystery alive."

  Jack snorted. He tapped his glass hard on the table. "What mystery? What you see is what you get. Deal with it."

  "Now you're sounding like your girl."

  "She's not my girl. All I did was kiss her."

  "You must have sucked."

  "She was putty in my hands. I almost passed out."

  "That would make you the putty."

  "It was better than last time."

  "Last time?" Conner leaned in for details.

  Jack shrugged. "After class a few weeks ago. I was trying to help her out of her wetsuit."

  "Wetsuit or bathing suit?"

  "Don't be an idiot. She took off before I could get warmed up."

  "She ran off this time, too."

  "Thanks to Jessica."

  "Why don't you ask her out?"

  "A date?"

  "You take her to dinner, go see a movie, see if she'll let you in the front door."

  Jack fiddled uneasily. "I don't know," he said with some hesitancy. "That'd be really getting involved."

  "A date?"

  "With her that'd be involved."

  "She's the real deal."

  "Yes." Holly flitted through Jack's memory and he tried not to feel the pain that came with it. It was time to move on. She had been the real deal, too, but she was gone now, somewhere he couldn't follow. "So damn reckless."

  "Sara?"

  "Holly." Jack looked up, and tried to keep the sadness out of his eyes. "She was reckless." He sighed. "I'm not angry anymore. I just miss her."

  Conner leaned over and touched him on the shoulder. "That's not ever going to change." He stood and stretched. "You, meanwhile, are still here, and swimming with amphibians twenty-four hours a day cannot be fulfilling."

  "Works for me."

  "They don't kiss you back."

  Jack laughed a hollow laugh he didn't feel and said, "Sebastian never was a good kisser."

  ****

  The next morning he forced down a cup of coffee and grabbed his keys off the counter. His planner was out, too. Frowning, he snatched it up and threw it quickly into his briefcase. Sara had left a cooler and a box of dishes behind. He made a mental promise to call and see if he could drop the stuff by her house. She would probably just have him bring them to the deli.

  He got to work on the hour, hurried to the lockers to change, and went to the main tank. Besides the routine target feeding of the sea turtles, they were cleaning. That meant he got to get wet, which was better than sitting at a desk in an over-starched shirt.

  The dive was just what he needed. After thirty minutes with a squeegee on the east window, he'd put Holly to rest for the thousandth time and was at ease with what he had to do. At lunch, he would give Sara a call, apologize, and then feel the situation out. If she was receptive, he'd ask her out for dinner and a movie, and then maybe they could talk. About a lot of things.

  A nudge on the back of his head roused his faculties. He swatted at the sea bass nibbling his mask band. A sharp sting told him the little teeth had taken a sliver out of his scalp. He looked around to make sure none of the other fish were getting excited then checked his air. Guffin motioned from across the coral bed and gave the thumps up. Jack nodded and kicked gently upwards.

  The surface overhead was a mirror of invitation to leave one lovely world for another. As wonderful as it could be beneath the water, it was good to come up—to feel the air hit your skin, the sun on the top of your head, and to breathe—not just through your mouth but through your nose, taking in all of the smells of fish and salt and wet and sun.

  Jack broke the pool's surface in a surge of bubbles. Around him, the filters hummed and voices echoed off the ceiling beams. There was no equatorial sunshine, no boat swaying with the current, but strangely he felt free.

  He changed slowly, taking his time. If he was lucky, Trudy would have lunch from Turtle Soup sitting on his desk, but it would probably be something from the cafeteria. He had a mysterious craving for the cassava bread his mother used to make.

  Trudy acknowledged him with a wink as the phone was glued to her ear and her fingers busy. He noted the take out carton on his desk with displeasure. It smelled like Chinese. He'd need a roll of antacids to keep it down.

  "They need last week's stats for the spreadsheet." Trudy appeared at the door, one leg in, one leg out. Do you have them?"

  Jack reached for his briefcase under the desk. He didn't let himself complain about the food. She was eighty years old and running full throttle. What more could you ask of anyone? He shuffled through the papers in his briefcase. "Here you go." He held out the printout, but his eyes were glued to the planner he'd tossed aside.

  "Are you okay?"

  Jack's outstretched hand had frozen. The papers fluttered to his desk before Trudy could catch them. Gingerly, he picked up the slender black book. "This isn't mine."

  The secretary moved around the desk and studied it. "It isn't mine, either."

  Trudy took it from his hands as if it might contain explosives. She opened the cover carefully then grinned and
spun it around so he could see it. "It's Sara Hart's. Now how did that get in here?"

  She gave him a teasing look and he tried to smile back. "I guess she left it on my counter by mistake. She catered for me last night."

  "Yes, I know. How was your little dinner party?"

  "Great." Trudy would understand the omission. She had the sixth sense and made trips to the water cooler.

  "I'll call her and let her know we have it right here safe and sound."

  "Thanks, but I've got a few things I need to do anyway." He gave Trudy a reassuring nod. "I'll take care of it."

  "If you say so, boss." She tottered back to her desk, smiling so hard her dentures clacked together.

  Jack laid the planner on his desk. If he had Sara's planner, she probably had his. He'd been mortified when she'd discovered it the first time, but this was worse. His head swam. What had he written about her the afternoon she'd brought it to the office?

  He put his hands over his face as if he could make the phrase disappear from the forefront of his mind. If Sara had his planner, she'd never forgive him in a million years for what he'd written beside the number for Turtle Soup.

  ****

  Three distracted phone conversations and a check signing marathon later, Jack hurried over to the deli. Every traffic light was determined to make him sit. Panic simmered in his stomach. He'd thrown away the takeout, his nerves too shot to eat. Now he was anxious and hungry. The irony made him cringe. Sara satisfied something in him he never knew he wanted.

  He thought about the man that had let her down. Had she ever forgiven him or would she punish every man she met the rest of her life? Being scarred by a former fiancée was something he knew about. He made it through the last intersection and pulled up alongside a hydrant. The spaces in front of Turtle Soup were full. Maybe business was picking up. He took a deep breath before pulling on the door.