Don't Forget Me (27 page)

“Do you think they’ll actually come?” she’d asked Allie.

Allie had shrugged. “I went to their weddings. Hell, I baked the cakes for their weddings. I assume they’ll be there unless they’re cooking for the White House or something.”

Kit rolled her shoulders to relax them. So there were famous people coming to the wedding, so what? Maybe they’d stay at the inn. Mabel would be ecstatic. And the important thing was that the wedding took place and everyone had a good time.

Including her. Which was why she’d invited both Nando and Joe. She figured one or the other of them would dance with her.

Thinking of Joe, she watched him make his circuit of the dining room, smiling at the regulars, stopping to check with newcomers. Just like her father, although there was nothing particularly fatherly about him. Still, her father had done the same thing for twenty years, talking to people, smiling at people, while a succession of cooks turned out the recipes he’d gotten from various members of the family. Antonio’s Fine Mexican Cuisine had run like a finely tuned engine—she’d just begun to understand how much work that had taken. No wonder her father wanted to retire.

Her father and Joe LeBlanc. Both of them pros. Who knew? She waited for the same feeling of loss that she usually felt whenever she ruminated about Antonio’s Fine Mexican Cuisine. It was still there, but maybe not as strong as it had been once. At least her father had taught her how a good restaurant should be run. And now, little by little, she was applying those lessons at the Rose, whenever she could find a way to work around Mabel Morgenstern.

Joe leaned against the other side of the hostess stand. “What’s up with Phillip?”

Kit squinted in his direction. Philip was giving the people at his station a remarkably surly look. Which was pretty much the same look he wore every day. “Nothing I know of. He’s leaving early, though.”

“Today?” Joe scowled. “He’s leaving early on one of the busiest days of the week?”

“I told him I’d cover for him. I’ll give some of his tables to Elaine. She said she could use the tip money. I can pick up any slack.”

“Still.” Joe grimaced. “I talked to Mabel about more wait staff last week. Haven’t heard anything back, though.”

Given that when he spoke to Mabel he usually sounded like he was lecturing a not particularly bright five-year-old, Kit couldn’t say she was too surprised. “I’ll remind her. If I tell her I’ll take care of the hiring end, she might be more willing to go through with advertising it.” Especially if Kit emphasized that the new wait staff would increase revenue. She’d be careful to avoid mentioning Joe’s name in the conversation.

“Thanks, darlin’.” Joe grinned, dark blue eyes dancing. “You sure you got a date tonight? I hear that restaurant over in Johnson City rocks.”

Kit gave him a cautious smile. “I’m sorry, I’m sure it’s great, but I’ve definitely got a date.” In fact, the thought of that date made her heart rate speed up slightly, although she didn’t really want it to.

“If I believed you really were sorry about it, darlin’, I might try a little harder. But I guess I’ll take your word for it.” He glanced back at the rapidly filling dining room. “Don’t let ’em run you ragged. Remember, you’re not getting paid enough.”

True that.
Kit prepared to run some credit cards for Elaine, trying to put the thought of Nando Avrogado onto the back burner where it belonged.

Nando fell into his bed at seven on Saturday morning, and didn’t emerge until five in the afternoon. Normally when he switched from night shift to days, he tried not to sleep the day away since it made for difficulties adjusting to the different hours. But he was going out with Kit that night, and he wanted to be ready.

He wasn’t sure what exactly he was going to be ready for. Anything fate dished out, probably.

Guinevere was sitting on the kitchen table again, admiring the world outside the window. “Get down, Bozo,” Nando growled.

Guinevere ignored him. She usually did unless she wanted her ears scratched.

Esteban was setting the microwave to nuke his fried chicken dinner. If their mother ever found out they were eating frozen crap, she’d skin both of them before supplying their freezer with enough casseroles to keep them fed for the rest of the millennium—a fate neither of them wanted.

“The dead are reborn,” Esteban commented, glancing Nando’s way as he hit the power button. “Hallelujah.”

Nando leaned against the counter, rubbing his face. “Any coffee around?”

“I haven’t washed the pot yet. If you don’t mind cold and stale, it’s available.”

He sighed and opened the refrigerator. At least there was iced tea. “You going out tonight?”

Esteban shrugged. “Maybe. Junior Bonner’s at the Faro. I thought I might swing by. How about you?”

“Thinking about it.” He took a swallow of tea. “I’m going out with Kit.”

Esteban turned to stare at him for a long moment, folding his arms across his chest.

Briefly, Nando was sorry he’d mentioned it. If his brother said anything sarcastic, he might end up punching him.

“That right?” he said finally.

“Yeah.” Nando took another swallow. “I thought I might show her this place, if that’s all right with you.”

Esteban said nothing for a while, then he nodded. “Okay with me. I’m going out to see the folks tonight. Might not be back.”

Nando stayed silent, waiting to see if he’d say anything else—anything that would require retaliation. He didn’t. “Okay,” he said finally. “Tell ’em hello for me.”

“I’ll do that. My best to Kit.”

“Right.” He watched Esteban lift his dinner out of the microwave, pouring some tea down his throat so he wouldn’t say anything else.

It wasn’t until he started to change his clothes that his nerves really began to kick in. He’d told Kit he’d pick her up at her house when she got off work, which she’d said would probably be around six. He stared at his closet, trying to decide where he wanted to go with this.

He could take Kit to Brenner’s, the best restaurant in town and a place he could only afford once every couple of months or so. But she might be sick of gourmet food, given that she probably ate it on a daily basis, thanks to LeBlanc. He could take her to the Faro, where Clem’s stuff was terrific without being too highfalutin, but the Faro on a Saturday night could be a zoo, particularly when they had a band playing in the beer garden as they would tonight. He ran through a list of other restaurants—the Silver Spur, the Coffee Corral, Mi Ranchito. None of them seemed right for what he had in mind.

Not that he was too clear on what he had in mind right then, but he thought he had an idea or two. He sighed, gazing around the apartment. It was in decent shape for once since Esteban had actually done some sweeping and run the dishwasher.

Suddenly he had a vision of the perfect dinner—a large pizza from Athenos with sausage for him and sliced tomatoes for Kit, sitting in the middle of his kitchen table. Along with one of those bottles of red wine Esteban always had lying around.

Of course, Kit would figure he had some kind of ulterior motive in mind if he suggested it. She’d also be right, and he didn’t think that was necessarily a bad idea. Nando closed his eyes for a moment and tried to think of the right way to phrase the request. He had a feeling he might have to do some persuading.

Assuming, of course, he made it a request. It might be just as easy if he went ahead and ordered the pizza before he went to pick her up. Persuading after the fact could be a lot easier than trying to set the stage beforehand.

And hell, once upon a time he’d been the prince of persuaders. That was, of course, before Kit Maldonado stepped into his life and turned it upside down. Now he needed to summon up what was left of his former persuasive skills.

And hope that the sight of her didn’t turn his brain to mush the way it usually did.

Working Philip’s section for part of the afternoon had had one great effect. Kit hadn’t had time to feel nervous about going out with Nando again. At least she hadn’t until she was in her car headed for home. Even then, she told herself it was no big deal, nothing to get jittery about. She’d change out of her work clothes but not put on anything fancy. Just jeans and maybe a T-shirt. Or no, maybe that lavender silk shirt that made her skin look so creamy. And were her best jeans clean, or had she thrown them in the laundry?

When her sweaty palms slipped on her steering wheel, she knew she was lying to herself about the nervous thing. But she’d always been a lot better at lying to herself than to anyone else. After all, who knew better what she wanted to believe?

She trotted inside the house, tossing her purse on the couch and noting, gratefully, that Allie wasn’t home. She hadn’t told her she was going out with Nando yet. She wasn’t sure she would, either.

Kit stripped off her navy suit and flowered blouse, locating the lavender shirt and the good jeans in her closet. She turned to study herself in the mirror briefly.
Okay, not cotton underwear. Maybe the red lace.

Her heart gave a mighty thud, and she grasped the edge of the dresser. What the hell was she thinking of? Why would her underwear matter?

Oh please. Like you don’t know.

She closed her eyes for a moment, taking a series of deep breaths.
You don’t have to do this. You don’t have to go through with it. You can tell him you’re tired.

She felt an ache then, somewhere below her heart. True enough—she could break the date, which would probably end whatever it was that was stirring between them again. That would be sharp, simple and effective. And it would break her heart all over again.

For better or worse, she was going out with Nando. And for better or worse, she was changing her underwear.

Five minutes later she heard his car in the driveway. She gave one last look at herself in the mirror, checking to make sure her mascara hadn’t run and her lip gloss hadn’t smeared onto her teeth.

She headed for the door as she heard his step on the porch, then paused to wipe her suddenly damp hands on her jeans.

Showtime, baby, showtime.

Chapter Seventeen

She looked glorious. It was the first thought that jumped into his brain when she opened the door. The lavender shirt made her dark eyes glow, and her hair fell across her shoulders like water. Even the faint sheen of perspiration on her forehead made her look delectable, like she should undo a few buttons and fan herself.

Or maybe let him do the fanning. And the unbuttoning.

He ushered her to the car, trying to jumpstart his brain enough to at least think of something halfway intelligent to say. But every time he looked at her, his mind went blank. All he really wanted to do was pull her into his arms. So much for his persuasive skills.

“Are you hungry?” he managed finally. “Do they give you dinner out there at the Rose?”

“No, just lunch.” Her lips moved up in a small grin. “They call it ‘family meal’ in most restaurants, and you get whatever’s the cheapest thing on the menu, or whatever was left over from yesterday. Joe’s pretty good about it, though. If he wants the waiters to push something to the customers, he makes sure he has some available for them to taste before they start serving.”

“Oh.” Nando really didn’t want to talk about Joe LeBlanc and his goodness. “I felt like a pizza, so I called in an order to Athenos.” He gestured toward the backseat where the pizza box sat giving off some of the most delectable scents known to man. “It’s got tomatoes.”

Kit’s smile turned slightly wary. “You remembered I like tomatoes on my pizza?”

He glanced at her, then turned back to watch the road. “Among other things.”

There was a moment of silence while he cursed himself.
Not the time to remind her about the past, moron.

“If you don’t want any food, I can always save the pizza for later,” he said quickly. Although it would almost kill him to do that since he hadn’t had anything besides a glass of tea since he woke up.

“Pizza sounds good,” Kit said a little stiffly. “Where are we going to eat it?”

At my house, my kitchen table, with my bedroom right down the hall.
Except that would be pretty much guaranteed to send her out the door. And he wanted—
needed
—this to work.

“How about the city park?” He turned up Third Street. Neutral ground since the park was probably still full of families and charcoal grills.

She seemed to relax slightly. “That sounds good. I haven’t been there since I came back.”

He pulled into a space at the side of the picnic grounds, handing her the pizza box. “I’ll bring the wine and the cups.”

Kit frowned, balancing the box on the tips of her fingers as she looked for an empty picnic table. “Is that legal, Officer? Drinking wine in the park, I mean.”

He shrugged, heading for a table tucked beneath a couple of pecan trees. “Sort of semi-legal. You can drink in the park as long as you keep it out of sight. The ordinance says something like
No openly displayed alcoholic beverages
. I figure it was the Germans making sure they could drink beer as long as they kept it in their buckets. Another one of those Konigsburg compromises with sin.”