By Hook or By Crook (19 page)

“Do you think I bought enough food?” she asked with a frown.

“Are you kidding? This could feed an army. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to show off.”

“Show off? That’s ridiculous,” Ivy protested. “I’m a little tired of canned soup and Funyuns, okay?”

And if, by some coincidence, Joe saw she could cook really, really well and therefore saw her as something other than a spoiled brat and realized he’d been wrong about her all along, well, that was a side benefit. She wasn’t doing this to impress him. At all.

Really.

“Regardless, I have no intention of getting involved with Joe Dunham.” And she didn’t. It would be nice for him to realize he’d been wrong about her, though, and for him to admit it.

“Who said you had to ‘get involved’ with him? Why not just get naked with him?”

“Daisy!” Ivy said, casting an uneasy glance around to make sure no one had overheard.

“What? I bet he’d be fun.”

Ivy stared at her sister, at a loss for words. A spurt of jealousy got her talking before she thought. “Do
you
like him?” she asked before she could stop herself.

“Well,
hello
, I’ve got eyes. I can see he’s hot. But I’m taken, thanks.” A beat, and then, “Besides, what do you care? You should be happy if I got interested in someone else. I would think you’d encourage me to go for him if you thought it would get me away from Pock.”

Ivy said nothing. She concentrated on pricking the skins of the potatoes with a sharp knife, driving the blade in far deeper than she needed to, and twisting it a little bit. The twisting was probably overkill, but it felt good.

“I knew it! You do have a thing for him. Come
on
,” Daisy said, one hand on her hip. “What is the problem, then? Is it back to that stupid rule you have about only dating men from our social class or whatever?”

“It’s not a stupid rule,” Ivy said with a sigh. She lifted a stack of plates out of a high cabinet, grateful for the chore. “It’s a good rule. I know you were pretty young when…” She paused, unsure if she really wanted to talk about this, and then forged ahead. “When Daniel broke up with me because Dad wouldn’t give him a job, it crushed me,” she admitted. She might be stating the obvious, but she’d never before actually said it aloud to her sister. “You were still young, so I didn’t talk to you about it. I can’t let that happen to me again. And I’m not like you, Daisy. I can’t throw myself into a fling and hope it all works out for the best. You always think it will be no big deal if it goes wrong. For me, a bad relationship is a big deal. I take it hard.”

Tears rose in her eyes, blurring her vision, and she carefully lowered the stack of plates onto the counter. Great. All she needed was to burst into tears in front of her sister and destroy all of their dishes in the process.

“Oh, honey.” Her sister pulled her into her arms, enveloping her in the smell of the vetiver scent she often wore.

For once, Ivy didn’t worry about showing weakness in front of her little sister. Resting on Daisy’s solid shoulders felt good. Her mother used to hold her like this all the time when she was a girl, and she missed it. She let her arms creep around, tentatively resting them on her sister’s side, but Daisy wouldn’t allow her to be tentative. She pulled her sister into a crushing embrace, half smothering her against her warm shoulder.

“Ivy, I may have been young when Daniel and you were dating, but I still remember that loser. He was nothing like Joe.”

Ivy wiggled from Daisy’s tight grip, drawing a breath. “And how do you know that? You barely know Joe.”

“But I see the way he looks at you.”

Now Ivy pulled an arm’s length away, frowning at her sister. “How is that?”

“You know, like he’s really into you. Thinks you’re hot. And he’s a little protective, maybe.”

“He was just doing his job. Dad wanted him to come with me to make sure I stayed safe. Thank God for that, at least.”

“His feelings about you are not all professional. He doesn’t look at you like he does because you’re his client, for God’s sake. You should give him a chance,” Daisy said. “At least hook up with him, for fun. Nobody said you had to marry the guy.”

Daisy’s words unknowingly echoed what Joe had said in the car earlier.
I’m not asking for a lifetime commitment
.

But what if she was? She was a marriage-and-Sundays-at-the-club kind of person. She couldn’t imagine Joe at the club. The more she thought about it, the more mixed up she felt.

She wiped the moisture from her eyes and hoisted the stack of plates again. Her sister grabbed some silverware and helped her set the table. It felt good to work beside her, and even better to have a grown-up discussion that didn’t turn into a fight.

Things were going so smoothly between them that she hesitated to bring up Pock, but she had to know. “What about you?” she asked hesitantly. “Did you and Pock get married yet?”

Her sister made a face. “Is it that important for you to know?”

“Of course it’s important! You’re my sister.”

“Okay, since we’re being mature and all, I’ll tell you. No, we haven’t gotten married yet.” Ivy kept her face expressionless, determined not to disrupt their conversation by showing her relief. “But we’re going to, Ivy,” Daisy said. “I love him.”

“I know, I know.” At least, she amended privately, Daisy
thought
she loved him, which would be more than enough to send her on this disastrous trip to the altar. “But can I ask you a favor?”

“Shoot.”

“If you want me to consider giving Joe a chance, can I ask you to think about putting off marriage to Pock, at least until this craziness is over and you can have some time and space to think about it? Can you do that for me?” She didn’t like to beg, but some things were more important than pride.

Daisy’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t think that’s much of a bargain. I delay my wedding, and all you do is say, ‘I
considered
going out with Joe, but I decided against it.’ No deal.” She crossed her arms. “I want you to promise something concrete.”

Ivy could smell a challenge coming. “Like what?”

“Do something to get his attention.”

“What do you mean?”

Daisy pondered for a moment. “For one thing, do something about your clothes.”

Ivy looked down at her jeans and green Lake Tahoe souvenir T-shirt she wore. The small supermarket where she’d gotten the groceries also served as a general store in this sparsely populated area, selling knickknacks and necessities. “This T-shirt is awful, I know, but I couldn’t find anything else in my size. Luckily they had socks and underwear, too.”

“I’m not talking about that. I know you didn’t have any choice. I’m talking about your
regular
clothes.”

“What’s wrong with my regular clothes?” Ivy asked, offended.

“Please. They don’t exactly scream seduction.” Daisy gestured to her own flowing caftan, giving a mini-twirl that made the skirts flutter around her ankles. “You should wear something sensual and feminine, like this.”

Ivy laughed. “Please. It looks great on you, Daisy, but on me, that would look like a costume.”

“Maybe you’re right.” Daisy frowned. “Still, you’ve gotta get something sexier than that.” Her eyes lit. “I know. Let’s go shopping!”

“Shopping? Daisy, somebody took us hostage two days ago. The people who did it are still out there.”

“And you think they’ll be in all the dress shops, looking for us?” Daisy scoffed. “We’re safe here. Joe made sure of that. He covered our tracks. They have no idea that you and I are Smithsons. Besides, you desperately need something else to wear. You can’t wear the same jeans and T-shirt every day. We’ll go somewhere small. You went to the supermarket, after all. Did that cause a problem?”

“No...” Ivy let the words trail off thoughtfully. “Joe won’t like it, though. When we went to town for the groceries, he was constantly looking around, acting paranoid. He said once he thought we might have been spotted.” The memory tightened her gut.

“Really? By Ramirez and Cantor? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“No, not by Ramirez. It wasn’t anybody we recognized. Joe saw a strange guy eyeing us outside the supermarket for a long time. He made me hurry up and finish.”

“So what’s the harm in sneaking off for a quick trip to a little boutique? It would be the last place anyone would look for us.”

She teetered in indecision for a moment, and then fell. “Okaaay,” she said, drawing the word out. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll let you take me shopping for clothes if you promise to give three days to
really
think over this marriage to Pock.”

“Uh-uh. It’s not enough to promise to go shopping. You have to promise to
wear
what we buy, too.”

“Deal.”

“And we should do something about your hair,” Daisy said thoughtfully, fingering Ivy’s light tresses.

“Don’t press your luck,” Ivy warned.

Merriment sparkled in her sister’s eyes. “You of all people should know that I
always
press my luck.”

****

Joe leaned back from the table. “Oh, my God. That was incredible. What did you say the dessert was?”

Ivy didn’t respond, in the midst of a bite, so Pock filled in helpfully. “It’s berry compost,” he said, nodding his thick head.

Pock probably had that wrong, but what else was new? Joe had gotten to know Pock a little, and he didn’t offer a lot of surprises so far: He was big, strong, and not too bright. Nice enough, though. Joe felt sorry for the guy. Being the target of Richard Smithson’s wrath wouldn’t make for a comfortable life.

“That’s berry
compote
, you dork,” Daisy corrected him, but her words had no heat.

The berry compote had given Joe pause when Ivy first brought it out, but like everything else she’d made, it tasted incredible. The princess possessed some down-to-earth skills, as it turned out. When he praised the meal, she simply smiled and thanked him, but Daisy beamed with pride.

“Our mother taught her before she passed away,” Daisy said. “Ivy is as good a cook as Mom was.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t go that far,” Ivy said.

She often put herself down, Joe noticed. At first, he’d thought it was a put-on. No attractive woman who was smart and an heiress to boot could have low self-esteem, but apparently she did.

“You are,” Daisy reproved. “If it hadn’t been for you, I’m sure Dad would have just hired a chef after Mom died. Ivy wouldn’t hear of it,” she told Joe. “She insisted that if Mom could cook for the family, so could she.”

“So you took on responsibility for the family,” Joe said.

Their eyes met, and he knew she was remembering their earlier conversation, back at the cabin. She’d compared herself unfavorably to him, given all the responsibility he’d inherited with his mother’s death, but Ivy had stepped up in a crisis, too. Daisy looked back and forth between them avidly until Ivy finally looked away, taking a sip of wine.

She lingered over the drink, and Joe found himself fascinated with the sheen of her lips on the rim. She never wore heavy makeup, but he could see a faint trace of pink lip gloss on the edge. How would it taste if he kissed her? He had to shift in his seat when his body responded. Whatever the flavor, it couldn’t be as sweet as Ivy’s natural taste.

“Uh, Pock, why don’t you and I do the dishes?” Daisy said with a smirk, glancing back and forth between the two of them. “Ivy worked so hard to make dinner. You take it easy, sweetie.”

Pock stood, jostling the table as he rose. As they disappeared into the kitchen, Pock complained, “Why do I have to do dishes? Joe didn’t cook anything either.” Daisy’s answer was lost as they moved out of earshot.

That left Ivy and Joe sitting together. “I’ll help clear the table,” she said, seeming shy. Joe helped her, keeping back only their wine glasses, which he refilled.

“I’ll light a fire in the living room if you want,” he offered.

“That would be nice.”

Did she ever think about the last time they’d been in front of a fireplace together, when they’d come together in a sleep-fogged moment as electrifying as it was brief? The difficulty she had meeting his eyes, and her sudden shyness, suggested she did.

He filled the fireplace with logs and kindling and then lit a twist of old newspaper he found at the bottom of the kindling box. He wedged it into the stack and nursed the fire for a few minutes, poking and blowing on it until the blaze caught. He replaced the poker and turned to find Ivy watching him. She sat in the middle of the sofa, her body arranged in a way that practically begged him to move in close.

He claimed the spot next to her, letting his thigh brush against hers. She tensed, but didn’t move away, which he took as a promising sign. He should be tired—it had been one hell of a few days. With a good meal in his stomach, he should be ready to doze. Instead, sitting next to Ivy, taking in the undercurrents that swirled between them, made him feel like a live wire.

Ivy reached up and rubbed her neck, wincing at the movement.

“What’s the matter?”

“My neck.” She stretched it, graceful as a swan, a look of pain flashing across her face. “It always tightens up when I’m stressed. I didn’t notice it much when everything was going on, but now it’s catching up to me,” she confessed.