Always Friday (2 page)

She tried to make her feet move, but they just didn’t seem
to want to obey. His eyes scanned her face and he said softly, “I think you’re
the woman I’m looking for.”

Her eyes widened. “I am?” Her voice was barely a whisper.

He nodded and was lowering his face to hers when he caught
himself and stiffened. He seemed to shift gears as he dropped his arms and
cleared his throat. “Are you Tess Cameron?”

Her eyebrows lifted. “Yes . . .” Her answer was tentative.
She narrowed her eyes. “How did you know?”

“I was looking for my grandmother, and the man repairing the
furnace said I might find you here.”

Tess pursed her lips in amusement. “Do I look like your
grandmother?”

He laughed and shook his head. “Hardly. My grandmother is
only about so high.” He held his hand level with Tess’s shoulder. “And her name
is Martha Craven. She’s supposed to be living at Heritage House, but I
understand she moved out.”

“Ohhh, I see. You’re Aunt Martha’s grandson.” Tess knew all
about Martha Craven’s grandsons, and neither of them was married. Or gay. “We
love having her with us. She’s a sweetheart. You must be either Danny or Teddy.”
She cocked her head. “I’d guess Danny.”

He winced. “
Daniel
Friday. Or Dan. I haven’t been
called ‘Danny’ by anyone but my grandmother since I was ten years old.”

“Dan Friday it is.” She smiled and offered her hand. She
noticed his hand was warm as he took hers. A good hand. Strong, like the rest of
him, but with long fingers more suited to an artist than to a businessman. “How
wonderful to have a name like Friday. It’s always been my favorite day of the
week. I used to spend most of my time wishing for Friday.”

“And now?”

She laughed. “Now it’s always Friday.”

He smiled and his eyes shone with genuine pleasure as his
gaze met hers. “Must be nice.”

“It is. I’m sorry your grandmother isn’t here. Hook drove
her and Aunt Olivia over to Hodges Gardens. I’m sure she wouldn’t have gone if
she’d known you were coming.”

“It was a spur-of-the-moment decision. When are they
expected back?” Twin lines deepened between his eyebrows. “We have some
important family business to discuss, but I need to return to Pittsburgh as
soon as possible.”

When he mentioned Pittsburgh, his whole manner changed. His
warm smile had faded into a sort of a supercilious semi-scowl that reminded her
of a preacher who’d suddenly discovered he was enjoying himself at a strip
show. And, for the first time, Tess noticed that his thick mane of hair was
brushed back from a forehead that had far too many lines for someone she knew
to be only in his late thirties. He seemed tense. His grandmother said he
worked too hard and worried too much. From everything Aunt Martha had told her
about his behavior, Tess knew that Daniel Friday desperately needed to learn
how to cut loose, enjoy life, smell a few roses.

She sighed. Too bad he lived in Pittsburgh. She wouldn’t
have minded taking him on as a project and tutoring him in the finer points of
elementary rose smelling. No, she thought with a smug inner grin, she wouldn’t
have minded at all. Daniel Friday had real potential.

“I think they plan to be back this evening, but with those
two, you never can tell,” Tess said. “They may decide to stop at Delta Downs to
check out Pirate’s Pleasure.”

“Delta Downs? Is that what I think it is?”

“It’s a racetrack in Louisiana, just across the state line.”

He scowled. “My God, what business does an eighty-year-old
woman have at a racetrack? And can you tell me why the hell she moved out of
that very exclusive retirement home that she was so anxious to move to, or why
she now wants to buy an RV?”

“An RV?” Tess bit back a chuckle. “It must be for the top
secret project.”

“Top secret project? What top secret project? Has Gram
become senile?”

Tess burst out laughing. “Far from it. She and Aunt Olivia
are both in full possession of all their faculties and having the time of their
lives. They were girlhood friends, you know. I can see I need to explain a few
things to you, but I’ve got to get the Mermaidmobile stocked so Becky can go
out on her rounds.”

“Mermaidmobile? Who’s Becky?”

“She manages Mermaid, a frozen yogurt shop downtown, but she
had an important errand to run this morning, so I promised to have the delivery
wagon ready when she got back. It seems that all the employees picked today to
have emergencies, and I’m elected to help out.” She chewed on her lip for a
moment, then said, “I feel just awful about not being able to entertain you
until Aunt Olivia and your grandmother get home. Any other day, it wouldn’t be
a problem, but—”

“Don’t concern yourself.” He answered politely, but he was
frowning. “I’ll find a hotel room until—”

“Don’t be silly.” She hooked his arm with hers and took off
at a fast clip up the pier. When they were on the boulevard, she said, “You’ll
go to our place and make yourself at home until you can see your grandmother.
Do you have a car?” He nodded. “Ivan should be back from fishing soon, and he
would love to try one of his new masterpieces on you for lunch. I think we’re
into shrimp dishes now.”

“Who’s Ivan?” Daniel asked. “The cook?”

Tess pursed her lips to keep from laughing. Ivan would pop a
blood vessel if he knew someone had referred to him as a “cook.” Cocking her
head, Tess pondered the question. “No, not exactly. How do I explain Ivan Petkov?”

“Petkov? Is he Russian?”

Tess shook her head. “Bulgarian originally. American now. He’s
a friend of Aunt Olivia’s, though for thirty years, he’s been trying to make
her more than a friend. He’s an internationally-known chef who comes to visit
now and then, sometimes for a few days, sometimes for a few years.”

“Years?”

Tess laughed at his incredulous expression. “Sometimes.”

“How long has this visit been?”

“Almost two years so far. He came when my aunt fell and
broke her hip. Ivan and I arrived the same day. After she recovered, he stayed
on to write a cookbook.”

“And you?”

She shrugged. “I just stayed.”

She strode toward her car, a creamy-yellow junkyard hybrid
she called Buttercup. As she tossed her bagpipe in the back seat, she saw Dan
do a double take, and she smiled. Buttercup affected a lot of people that
way—it was a great advertisement for Custom Conversions, the body shop and
garage she owned with Luis Garza.

He frowned at the front of the car, walked around and
frowned at the rear. “What is this thing?”

She patted the fender. “Buttercup is a Custom Conversion.
Pretty, isn’t she? Before Luis found her at the junkyard and fixed her up, she
was a rusty green Volkswagen beetle. After he overhauled the engine, he added a
scaled-down Rolls-Royce grille, a continental tire kit to the back, wire
wheels, and” —she brandished her hand in an exaggerated presentation—”voila . .
. a new incarnation.”

“Interesting,” Daniel said.

As her eyes slid over the conservative navy blazer, the gray
slacks, and the correct silk tie, Tess fought a smile. Although he reminded her
a little of a young Clint Eastwood before he lost his hair, she knew he was no “Dirty
Harry.” Daniel Friday’s image was corporate establishment to the core. What had
happened to the sexy, playful man she had glimpsed earlier? It was somewhere
under all that Armani baloney. He needed loosening up in a bad way. And she was
just the person to tweak his buttoned-down sensibilities.

“Which translates,” she said with a wry twist of her lips, “to
I wouldn’t be caught dead driving such a thing.’ “

“Now, I didn’t say that.”

She laughed. “You didn’t have to. I’ll bet you drive a
Mercedes.” She squinted at him for a moment. “Brown.”

“Gray.”

“Close enough.”

He seemed surprised. “How did you know?”

“Lucky guess.” She could spot the type at fifty paces. Her
old Mercedes had been beige. She much preferred Buttercup.

“I know you’re in a hurry, but could you explain Gram’s
sudden interest in racetracks and RVs? I’m concerned.”

“Well, Pirate’s Pleasure is a racehorse Aunt Olivia and Aunt
Martha want to buy, and—”

“A racehorse?” The words erupted from him. Looking at her
with a pained expression as if his shorts were too tight, he mashed his fingers
against the tail of his silk tie. “What the hell would two old ladies do with a
racehorse?”

If he was upset about the racehorse, he’d probably blow a
gasket over the RV and the treasure-hunting scheme. She’d wait and let his
grandmother explain that one. Tess glanced down at her watch.

“Yikes, it’s almost nine o’clock. Becky will kill me if the
delivery wagon isn’t ready.” Giving him a bright smile, she scrambled into the
car and fluttered her fingers. “Bye. I’ve got to run. Be sure and make yourself
at home. I’ll see you later,” she called out as she roared away from the curb.

*    *    *

Just as Janice and Sue came in to work the evening shift at
the Mermaid, Ivan phoned. He reported that Dan was reading in the study, and
that Hook and the ladies had phoned from Louisiana. Thrilled to hear that Dan
was in town, they promised to be back in time for dinner. Tess peeled off her
stained apron and hurried to the house on Broadway.

After she had bathed, Tess slipped on a long tube dress slit
from left ankle to knee and turned the convertible turtleneck into an
off-the-shoulder band. Though she considered this cotton knit dress one of her
most comfortable, the bold purple and teal-swirled fabric also hugged every
curve of her body. And a good body it was, she admitted as she surveyed herself
critically in the full-length mirror. Especially since she’d stopped spending
her days behind a desk.

She spritzed a bit of scent on her throat and brushed her
short hair back into full gleaming waves. She even took time to add a touch of
exotic eye shadow and a dash of lipstick. She told herself it wasn’t for Daniel
Friday, but, as she studied her reflection in the mirror, she kept trying to
picture herself in his eyes. Her chin lifted and her shoulders drew back just a
tad.

With a wry smile, she cocked an eyebrow and said, “Maybe I’ll
give you a little something to remember on those cold nights in Pittsburgh, Mr.
Friday.”

She added a few bangle bracelets, and dangling peacock
feather earrings that brushed against her bare skin, then slipped into Moroccan
sandals and went downstairs.

Ivan and Dan were having drinks in the large formal drawing
room. Tess entered the room and smiled as she listened to the booming voice of
the older man regaling Dan with one of his exploits. Ivan, who dearly loved a
fresh audience, was perched on the edge of a gilt chair, gesturing broadly. He
looked totally out of place in the high-ceilinged room with its Aubusson
carpet, gold chandelier, and rococo revival furniture. The beefy Bulgarian wore
a Greek fisherman’s sweater, his latest sartorial passion, stretched over his
thick chest.

Dan, in his navy blazer, seemed more comfortable on the
elaborately carved settee where he sat listening politely to Ivan’s tale. He
had on a fresh shirt and another conservative tie, the spares, no doubt, which
every good executive carried in his trusty leather briefcase. Before either of
the men was aware of her presence, she took a moment to study Dan and wondered
what he would look like in a fisherman’s sweater with that fantastic hair of his
a little mussed. Damned good, she suspected.

“Have another Shrimp Puff Ole,” Ivan said as he thrust the
silver tray at Daniel. When Dan declined, Ivan drew his shaggy brows together
and asked, “Too spicy, you think?” Before he received an answer, Ivan caught
sight of Tess. “Ah, my lovely Tess, come taste my shrimp puffs. I make a new
creation from the beautiful shrimps I catch today with my own hands. Here,” he
boomed, thrusting the tray toward her. “Taste and tell me what you think.”

Tess winked at Dan, who had stood when she entered, and
popped one of the delicate golden morsels in her mouth. As she chewed and
swallowed, her eyes widened and glazed with tears. “Good Lord, Ivan,” she
gasped.

“A little too hot maybe?”

“A
little
hot? It would take the hair off a dog.”

Ivan roared with laughter. “Just like my Olivia. She never
spares my feelings when I make a disaster. I will put these down the disposal.”
He started out the door, tray in hand. “Take the hair off a dog. I like that.”
His robust laughter echoed behind as he left.

“Is he always so . . .”

“Gregarious? Blustery? Larger-than-life?” Tess supplied,
laughing. “Always. But he’s really a dear, a teddy bear underneath all that
bravado.” With Dan following, she crossed to the drink cart and mixed a wine spritzer
for herself. “He rarely ever prepares anything that isn’t delicious, but when
he has a failure, it’s a doozy. How many of those fireballs did he foist off on
you?”

“I only had a couple.”

“And you managed to keep a straight face? You must have an
insulated digestive system.”

“I think the Scotch dulled the pain.” He laughed and Tess
was glad to see the more relaxed side of him peeking through.

He seemed a little looser this evening, Tess thought. She
sipped her spritzer and assessed the tall man beside her with frank admiration.
Oh, he had a long way to go before all the starch was out of his collar, but
the blue-gray eyes perusing her were a bit less strained, the frown lines
softer.

“You look lovely this evening. I like your plumage.” His
hand rested on her bare shoulder as his finger ruffled the edge of her
feathered earring.

The sensation of his skin on hers, the message in his eyes,
made the hairs on the side of her neck stand up, and the drink in her mouth
turned to warm foam. And her silly knees started doing their own thing. Part of
her wanted to purr and rub her cheek against his hand; the rest of her wanted
to offer her other shoulder to be stroked. It was a darned shame he lived half
a country away. She had a feeling about staid Daniel Friday. A powerful
feeling.