Taste for Trouble (26 page)

Well,
screw that. Given the evidence at hand, any rational, thinking person would
have jumped to the same conclusion.

Except
James
, said a little voice in his
head.
James didn’t
.

James.
Will mentally rolled his eyes. Of course James didn’t draw conclusions or make
assumptions. He didn’t have to. All James had to do was put the ball in the
goal and he was a goddamn hero. At least you’d think so, judging from the way
Audrey gazed at him, all limpid-eyed and grateful.

Will
gazed at his empty wine glass and wished like hell Bel would just hurry up and
serve the bird so he could have a damn drink.

Jillian
walked into the dining room after Bel, her tiny face grave with the
responsibility of transporting a heaping bowl of golden mashed potatoes. She
slid them onto the table next to Kate, who blinked at the child in mild
astonishment.

See
? Will thought.
The kid’s surprising when you’re
not expecting her
. He hoped Kate would say something inappropriate, just so
he could feel better about his own trip down foot-in-mouth lane.

Bel glanced
at Kate’s face and said quickly, “Oh, darn it, I forgot the rolls. They’re in a
basket on the counter. Could you grab them, please, Jillian?”

The
girl returned to the kitchen and Kate lifted her brows at Bel. “When did you
resort to child labor?”

“I
didn’t,” Bel said.

Kate
turned to James. “Have you been hit with a paternity suit, then?”

“No,
ma’am,” he said. “Though you aren’t the first one to mistake the girl’s
parentage.” He smirked at Will, pushing the rage and shame that had been
simmering in his chest for days up to a rolling boil.

Will
picked up the wine bottle and the cork screw. “I’ll just let this breathe,” he
said to nobody in particular. Nerves danced in his blood, hummed in his veins. His
glass was empty and his chest was full and one of those two situations needed
changing. Since leaking off some of that frustration and regret and that stupid
unwanted
want
wasn’t really a viable option, he was going to open the
damn wine. Then drink it all.

“Jillian’s
mine.” Audrey folded her hands in her lap and gave Kate a cool gaze.

“Mmm
hmm,” Kate said. “Your what, dear? Because while I can certainly see the
resemblance, I’m not prepared to believe that you gave birth in elementary
school.”

“No,”
Audrey said. Will didn’t have to look up to know her eyes were on him, hard
with dislike. “I didn’t. Thank you for the benefit of the doubt.”

The
cork popped free of the bottle, sending a surge of relief through Will. Salvation
was at hand. Or at least oblivion.

“Jillian
is my niece,” she said. “My sister’s daughter.”

“I
see.” Kate smiled politely. “And she’s visiting you?”

“No.
She lives with me. My sister isn’t what you’d call—” Audrey indulged in a
brief, speaking pause. “—stable.”

Kate’s
eyebrows headed for her hairline. “I see,” she murmured again, her tone making
it clear that Jillian’s mother must be some kind of unholy mess if a
twenty-two-year-old cocktail waitress was more stable.

Exactly
, Will thought.
And I’m the bad guy for saying it
out loud
?

But
he hadn’t just said it out loud. He’d said it out loud to Audrey. And he hadn’t
stopped there. He’d gone on to lay the blame for Jillian’s current emotional
crisis at her feet. Pile that on top of his earlier determination to fuck up
her job prospects just because he was feeling bitter, and he had to admit it. He’d
earned it. He’d earned every bit of the hate that blazed in her eyes every time
she looked at him. Which wasn’t often. She avoided it when she could.

“I
asked Audrey if she’d consider a live-in position,” James said to Kate. “I
didn’t think I’d care for live-in help but then Bel moved in and I decided I
liked having round-the-clock access to her.”

“That’s
true,” Will said. “He speaks quite, ah, warmly about their midnight meetings in
the kitchen.” He gave Bel a toothy smile. She glared at him, but a flush crept
up her cheeks.

James
shrugged easily. “And with Audrey, I got a bonus.” He beamed at Jillian as she
returned with the bread basket. “Two handy girls for the price of one.”

Jillian
ducked her head, shyly pleased, and put her basket on the table. She took the
chair between Bel and Audrey, who sent James a grateful glance. A sliver of
jealousy wedged itself deep into Will’s chest. James the hero. Again.

“Let’s
be grateful,” Bel said and heads bowed all around the table for grace.

Definitely
time to pour the wine.

“I
have to admit,” Kate said after Bel had cleared the table and filled her coffee
cup. “You two have stepped up your game considerably since last week.”

Her
approval didn’t ease the tension in Bel’s stomach but James said, “Thanks. We
can’t take all the credit, though. The girls really outdid themselves on the
cakes, didn’t they, Bel?”

Bel
gave him a wooden smile. “You bet.” Because they had. Right after they’d
stopped trying to kill each other and/or trap James into a compromising
position behind the mixer. “The new Mr. and Mrs. Hartford were extremely happy
with their work.”

“Who
would have guessed it?” Kate said, a light smile on her lips, something faint
and displeased in her eyes. “That a team that fell apart serving cake to
society matrons would hit its stride at reform school?”

Bel’s
stomach clenched even tighter. Kate hated it when reality failed to conform to
her expectations, whether for better or worse. She’d clearly expected Bel and
James to flame out with even greater drama at the reform school than at the
wedding hall and was not at all pleased to find that she’d failed to accurately
predict an outcome.

Which
meant, Bel feared, that they’d won the battle only to have it cost them the
war. Or at least set them up for an epic battle from which they would never
recover. Her mouth went dry and she twisted her fingers together in her lap as
she waited for Kate to just drop the bomb already. What on earth could she have
waiting for them that would top spending a week in reform school?

Audrey
stood up abruptly. “If you’ll excuse us?” she said. “Jillian really ought to be
in bed.”

“Of
course,” Kate said. “Good night, dear.”

Bel
breathed a sigh of relief as Audrey disappeared up the stairs with Jillian. Not
that Bel didn’t like Audrey, but having her and Will at the same table was like
trying to eat a nice supper around a downed electrical wire. Between their
silent hostility, waiting for Kate to render a verdict, and Will’s customary
headfirst dive into the wine bottle, Bel’s nerves were about shot.

“So,”
Kate said, setting down her coffee and folding her hands. “You’ve pulled it
off. Passing marks for you both. Bravo.”

“Thank
you,” Bel said. She lifted her coffee cup to her lips, though she couldn’t
force a single bitter swallow down her throat.

“Thanks,”
James said. “But again, those girls were something else. Really brave and
strong and determined to do whatever it took to better themselves.”

“Or
whoever,” Will mumbled.

“Exactly,”
James said. “Those girls would do anything—or yes, anybody, Will—to improve
their circumstances, no matter how unpleasant. It was a privilege to help them
redirect that determination into healthier channels.”

Kate
gazed at him in surprise. “That’s very insightful, James.”

“Not
my insight.” He patted Bel’s knee under the table, sending an unwelcome shock
straight up her thigh. She gave him a tight smile and shifted away from his
hand. “Bel’s. We had a pretty heated exchange after that first day at the
school and it really gave me a—”

“Hard
on,” Will said.

“Oh
my God,” Bel said, closing her eyes while shock and humiliation piled onto her
already strained system.

“Fresh
perspective,” James said to Kate. He ignored Will with the ease of long
practice. “I was going to say fresh perspective.”

“Of
course,” Kate murmured.

“Right.”
Will slouched in his chair, his wine glass cupped in a protective hand, his
smile hard and bright. “Didn’t I say that?”

“You
can shut up now,” James told him mildly.

Will
held up a hand in surrender. “Sorry. Bad habit, telling the truth all the time.
I’m working on it.”

“Work
harder.” James turned back to Kate. “As I was saying, Bel really opened my
eyes. She has such an empathy, an honest and personal connection with those
girls. Almost like she felt what they felt, had been where they are. Seeing
them together was a real revelation.”

James’
thoughtful green gaze rested on her and the knots in Bel’s stomach twisted
unbearably as she finally admitted it—she’d been suckered. That happily shallow
vibe he cultivated? A total sham. Granted, he’d raised it to an art form—those
pulled-taffy vowels, that lazy amble, that wicked smile—but still. Bel had
clawed her way out of chaos and neglect through hard work and attention to
detail. Seeing what other people didn’t was practically her religion. So how on
earth had she failed to notice a dangerously perceptive man playing dumb?

“I
can’t take credit for James’ work,” Bel said, giving him a small, grim smile. She
switched her gaze to Kate and amped up the wattage. “He’s really taking his
responsibility as an adult and a role model seriously. He demonstrated an
unexpected and remarkable ability to downplay his celebrity and put the focus
on the skills. I think everybody was really enriched by the experience.”

She
forced the words out, barely managing not to gag on them. Because while she
believed this past week actually had enriched James, forcing him to behave like
the man she suspected he really was, it hadn’t enriched Bel. Just the opposite,
in fact. All her reserves of strength and self-control had been used up just
walking into and out of that place every day. She had nothing left to pour into
the effort it took to resist this uncontrollable fire James had set within her.

Because
the kiss she’d been stupid enough to ask for had ignited something inside her. Something
awful and dangerously hungry. Something that lit her up like a lightning strike
on the rain-starved prairie, a brilliant slash of light and color, and then the
raging, consuming flame. She’d exhausted herself digging trenches and
firebreaks all week, but the fire just kept leaping ahead of her defenses.

But
lust wasn’t the big problem here. Bel knew that. It was more that the lust was
all tangled up with this odd, restless yearning she’d never experienced before.
A hunger, maybe. No, a craving. An intense and unbearable craving that she had
to satisfy or lose her mind.

A
craving for James. Not for his body, either. No, it was worse than that. She
didn’t just want his touch, his kiss. She wanted his company. His
companionship. His friendship. His...affection? Oh lord. A cold sweep of
knowledge rushed through her.

His
heart. She wanted his goddamn heart. The girl who believed love was nothing but
a pretty excuse for being irrational wanted his love.

She
resisted the moan of distress that edged up her throat. Good lord, what was
wrong
with her? What was she
thinking
? She was going to take her eye off the
ball she’d been chasing since high school because she was experiencing warm
feelings toward a charming athlete?

She
gave herself a stern mental slap.
Get it together, Bel. You’re so close. Just...focus,
all right? Get it together and finish it out
.

She
fixed her eyes on Kate’s and said, “We’re really pleased with our performance
and hope you are, too.”

“I
am,” Kate said, reluctant approval curving her lips. “Surprisingly so. As I
said, I didn’t expect this level of self-awareness from Mr. Blake, nor this show
of flexibility from you. But I trust you’ll find both those qualities quite
handy during this final challenge.”

“Final
challenge?” Bel lifted her brows in polite expectation though anxiety did a
little dance inside her chest. “I thought we had two more tasks to go.”

“Technically
you do.” Kate folded her hands with satisfaction and Bel’s muscles tensed
warily. James’ hand found her knee under the table again, gave it a warm,
reassuring squeeze that, interestingly, dampened the flutter of nerves instead
of causing them. She wondered vaguely how that was possible. “However, given
the scope of the challenge I have in mind, I’m inclined to give you double
credit for pulling it off. Plus you’ll likely need a full two weeks to prepare
and execute.”

“Yeah?”
James kicked back, hooked an elbow over the back of his chair and gave Kate a
slow, lazy smile. “So what is it? Are we parachuting into Iraq with fresh
muffins for the troops? Baking bread with orphans? Producing Thanksgiving dinner
over a barrel fire with some homeless guys?”

“No,”
Kate said, her smile cold and sharp. “You’ll be throwing a ball.”