The Marriage Recipe (9 page)

“Amazing how confusion happens,” Colin said. He drew a breath. “I should probably be going. I've got an 8:00 a.m. meeting tomorrow.”

“I won't be heading into the diner until eleven. I'll do the lunch rush and then start baking.”

“If you don't need to see it first, I'll mail you that letter I sent to Marco,” he said.

“You could bring it by when it's done,” Rachel offered, suddenly as confused as a high-school girl. She didn't want the night to end, which was ridiculous. Colin was her lawyer, nothing more. Okay, a friend, but nothing else.

“My paralegal automatically cc's the client whenever she mails a letter to opposing counsel,” Colin said.

“That's logical,” Rachel said, forcing herself to reach for the door handle.

His voice stopped her. “Rachel.”

She turned back. “What?”

“Did you ever wonder?”

“Wonder what?” Despite the moon, his face was hidden in shadow.

“About what would have happened had we gone to prom.”

All the time, but she wasn't about to tell him that. “You were still two years older. You would have graduated, moved on to college girls. Everyone knows most high-school relationships don't last. Any interest we might have had in each other was only because we lived next door. A proximity thing.”

He thought about that for a minute. “So, professional from here on out?”

“You know how Morrisville is.” She cracked the car door, and the interior lights came on.

He managed a wry grin. “Yeah, I live here, so believe me, I do. You're right. We don't need that.”

With his words, the atmosphere inside the car intensified. Maybe it was just the warm air from the seat heater. “We'll just put it behind us, okay?” she said.

“That would be best,” Colin said. “First thing tomorrow, though, all right?” He glanced at the clock. “In ten minutes you'll be inside. Promise.”

She closed the door again. “I won't lose my slipper and your car won't turn into a pumpkin?”

“No, but I have to know. Just do this for me, okay?”

“Do what?” Rachel asked. She faced him fully, and immediately knew what he meant as he moved forward and his lips found hers.

“Just one kiss,” he whispered. “I want the answer.”

She had no idea what the question was, but the moment his lips touched, any protest fled. Colin had been her playmate, her crush. In her heart, she understood the answer he was seeking. She sought it, too, and to find it, she kissed him back.

She should feel nothing. Oh, some pleasure, yes, but not the intensity traveling through her body and scaring the life out of her. Her feelings for him had never died. Even after leaving adolescence, she still wanted him, only now with a grown-up body that craved to mate with his. She desired all she'd been denied.

But instinct wouldn't dictate her life anymore. She made her own choices. She was not staying in Morrisville and marrying Colin Morris and having his babies—although the making-love-to-him part sounded divine. His touch would erase Marco's and take her places never imagined, just as it was doing now.

She pulled away, breathless from his kiss. “Question answered?”

“Yeah,” Colin said, his voice husky. Rachel attempted to tune out his sexy tone. The clock flickered to 11:59.

“I've got to go. You have an early meeting.”

“Don't worry, professional from here on out. Just friends,” Colin said. “This kiss—Thank you. It…”

“Laid some ghosts to rest?”

“Yeah, okay.” If he had something different to say, he chose to keep it to himself.

“Well, for me, too,” Rachel lied. All his kiss had done was make her long for more. She pulled on the handle and pushed the door open. Cold air flooded the inside of the car, making her shiver. “Thanks for tonight. I'll see you soon.”

With that, she shut the door behind her and hurried into the house. Less than eight minutes later, she was curled up under the flannel sheets and turning on the electric blanket.

She put a finger to her lips, noticing their swollen tenderness. Colin had kissed her. Closure. A final kiss to put the past and their silly school crushes behind them. From here on out, they would be nothing more than businesslike.

A tiny sense of melancholy settled over her as she closed her eyes. Somehow, after a kiss that had rocked her world, the aftermath seemed a waste.

 

C
OLIN DROVE HOME
, mindful to keep his speed at the posted limit. After kissing Rachel, he wanted nothing more than to floor the gas pedal and drive all-out.

He'd wanted to kiss her and prove to himself that nothing passionate existed. That it would be like kissing a sister. Chaste. Platonic.

He'd been wrong.

Kissing Rachel had been hot and heavy. To use one of her quotations: like the earth moved. He hadn't had sex in a car since college, but he'd have had no problem taking Rachel right then and there. Darn, he was going to be lousy for his meeting, and not from lack of sleep.

The whole situation could be summed up in one word—
frustrating.
She wanted New York; he wouldn't leave Morrisville. Nothing between them could work.

He wasn't the kind of guy to settle for less than everything, and he'd always wanted that everything with Rachel. He'd envied Bruce for years, thinking how lucky his best friend would be when he woke up and realized Rachel was his dream woman.

Well, Colin had gotten that completely wrong. Christina was Bruce's other half.

Which left Rachel…

In New York.

“I can't believe you kissed Colin Morris again.”

Rachel furtively glanced around her friend Heather's kitchen. Busy changing a diaper while watching a basketball game on TV in the adjoining family room, Heather's husband, Keith, wasn't paying the least bit of attention to the two women, who were just on the other side of the half wall dividing the rooms.

“I never should have told you,” Rachel said, holding her red-wine glass aloft as Heather wiped down the kitchen table in front of Rachel.

“Of course you should have,” Heather said, expertly arcing the dishcloth and landing it in the sink. “I was there from the beginning, remember? Who else had listened to your mooning over the man since eighth grade?”

“Yeah, you have,” Rachel said, nostalgia sweeping through her. The same age, she and Heather had been pals ever since the third grade when Heather's family had relocated from Saint Louis.

Rachel had even been one of Heather's bridesmaids three years ago, standing next to Heather's sister, who had served as matron of honor. Rachel had made a weekend jaunt home for the wedding, but she hadn't contacted Bruce or Colin. Maybe she should have. Colin had been offended that she'd simply “ditched him.” Of course, that was what she'd been trying to do all these years.

Finished diapering, Keith held his ten-month-old daughter aloft. The basketball game was on halftime break and the TV showed a bunch of announcers conversing. “It's Erin's bedtime. I'll put her down so you two can catch up,” Keith announced.

“Mama wants a kiss,” Heather told her daughter, and after giving her child a peck on the cheek, Keith made an airplane noise and flew baby Erin away.

Now that Keith was out of earshot, Heather sat down and reached for the bottle of red wine Rachel had brought. “You sure haven't had a lot of this,” she said as she topped off both glasses.

“I'm good,” Rachel said as Heather returned the bottle to the center of the table. “Keith seems like a great dad. You've found a gem.”

“I have. He's the best husband and he's wonderful with Erin,” Heather said, lifting her glass. She thought a moment. “Let's toast. Cheers.”

Rachel raised her wineglass and tilted her head. “Yes, but to what?”

Heather shrugged. “To your visit. To your presence being more than just a fast in and out. To getting rid of some stuck-on-himself fiancé who probably wouldn't have let me be in his wedding. I'll drink to all that.”

“Me, too,” Rachel agreed as they clinked glasses. “And unfortunately, you're correct. Marco pretty much insisted that the bridal party be from his side of the family. Looking back, I should have clued in then.”

Rachel shifted and reclined farther back in the chair. “For a guy so focused on tradition, he had no problem with usurping my responsibilities and decisions. I stupidly insisted I pay for some things. Now I wish I hadn't. My foolish pride cost me a fortune I didn't have, and for naught.”

“When you would call me and tell me about him, I knew he wasn't right for you,” Heather announced between sips of wine. “But you seemed happy, and who was I to ruin that? No one likes to rain on anyone's parade.”

“Hindsight's twenty-twenty and I wish you had. Although I can understand why you didn't. At the time I was too blinded to believe Marco was anything but romance-novel perfect. I guess I don't have very good judgment in men, especially if I let Colin kiss me!”

“You cannot fault yourself for that. Chalk the experience up to curiosity. You know, like seeing if his lips made your toes curl when you were sober. In high school you'd both had champagne. So did they?”

Rachel chewed on her lower lip. His kiss had made her ready to throw caution to the wind and lose herself in more ways than just kissing. She nodded.

Heather's body twitched and she shook herself. “Sorry. Being gross and picturing. Lucky you. Not that Keith doesn't make me scream…well, you get the picture. No need to provide too much information. But girlfriend, a kiss like that is rare. I wasn't as pristine and picky as you. I imbibed a little during college. Some of the sex I had was simply sloppy and not worth the energy. But when I met Keith, then I learned what making love meant. There's never a time I don't feel the entire connection—mental, physical and spiritual.”

“It was a kiss. One to put the past behind us. Surely that's all it was. And no way am I planning on making love with Colin. What am I to do—abandon myself to a torrid affair until I leave? My life is in New York. Can you see me here in Morrisville, playing house?”

“I play house every day. I wouldn't have it any other way,” Heather said flatly.

Rachel frowned. Trust her to have sounded insensitive. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to imply that…” Rachel apologized. She certainly didn't mean to suggest that Heather had settled when she'd married the blue-collar line worker she'd met at the factory in Batesville. Heather had completed her MBA work online and had been on the fast corporate track when she'd fallen hard for Keith. With the arrival of Erin, she'd taken a leave of absence to stay home, walking away from a five-figure salary. She and Keith lived in a modest ranch house that they afforded using only his income.

“I know you didn't mean to sound bratty, so I'll forgive you this time,” Heather said with a grin. “I've known you far too long to be insulted that easily. Besides, you know where all my skeletons are hidden.”

Rachel smiled. “That I do. Although I won't tell.” Warm-and-fuzzy sentiment had her adding, “You are the best.”

“I know,” Heather said flippantly, sipping more wine. “Seriously, though. You're just different. I'm content with my simple life. I don't need fancy jewels and stuff like that. I'm happy staying home. I find it fulfilling. But not you. You've always wanted that pie in the sky. You've always been grasping for something.”

“Ha on the pie-in-the-sky quip. But you've got the rest correct. I have these ambitions and I can't deny myself trying to achieve them. You fit here. You'll take Erin to the park this summer. Hang out at the country-club pool. That type of life would drive me insane. I don't know how my mother and grandmother do it, tolerating people like Elmer and Harold on a daily basis. I don't belong here.”

“Without the right man, you don't. You'd be screaming in frustration within the first two weeks if you had to live here as a single woman. Not that I don't think you'll make a good mom or anything. Don't you dare go out and tell people I said that.”

“I just might,” Rachel teased. She toyed absently with her wineglass, making the wine inside form a little current. “Marco wanted at least four kids. He wanted me barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen. The prospect scared the crud out of me.”

“That's because he wasn't right for you. When you find your match, everything clicks. You want to be with him and bear his children. It's the most natural feeling in the world and it's not describable. You can't search for it. You just know when you've found that nirvana.”

Heather sipped her wine and then stared at the glass. “This is really great stuff. You're going to get me tipsy. I only stopped breast-feeding two months ago. This is a treat. I haven't imbibed in ages.”

“Thanks.” Rachel didn't tell her that she'd brought the vintage with her from New York, or that it retailed for seventy dollars a bottle. “I bought the bottle to go with this steak dish I'd planned to cook for Marco. Seemed like tonight was a good night to drink the thing without him, plus you cooked a great meal.”

“His loss,” Heather said, grabbing the bottle. “Want any more?”

“I'm fine,” Rachel answered, covering the rim of the wineglass with the palm of her hand.

“Good.” Heather poured the remnants into her own glass. “Beware, honey,” she called to Keith, who was entering the kitchen. “I'm getting tipsy. You know what that means.”

“Yep.” Keith gave Heather a secret smile as he passed by and returned to the family room.

“I think you should let yourself go,” Heather told Rachel suddenly.

“Huh?” Not quite following the shift in their conversation, Rachel stared at her friend. Heather was nodding as if she'd just had the best idea in years.

“Yeah. With Colin. Sample the man. I think that after all this time, he'd be the perfect rebound guy for you to lose yourself in for a while. Like you said, you're going back to New York. You already have the perfect escape clause. Moving is the great way to end things.”

Maybe every last drop of wine had traveled to Heather's head. A bottle held a little more than four glasses and she'd easily had more than two. Keith, not into wine, had had a small portion and then switched to iced tea with dinner.

“It's been, what—almost two weeks since you've seen him?” Heather asked.

“Yeah. He hasn't even come into the diner to eat. It's almost as if he's avoiding me. His dad's there just about every day. Not that I should have noticed. Since word got out that I'm baking for hire, I'm swamped. This is a wacky year with St. Patrick's Day this upcoming Monday and Palm Sunday the very day before. To get ready this week I've been cooking something every day. Not only have I had the stuff for the diner, but I've had tons of cake orders, and before Saturday night I have to make six hundred shamrock cookies for the Knights of Columbus annual corned-beef-and-cabbage shindig.”

“That's two days from now. We'll be there, won't we, Keith?”

They got a grunt from Keith, who'd settled into a La-Z-Boy recliner. “We always go,” Heather said. “Dinner, dancing and green beer. This year I can have a glass. Got to love it.”

Used to the huge celebrations and the supersize parade through Manhattan, Rachel simply nodded her agreement. “Sounds like a lot of fun.”

“You should come with us. You'll recognize most of the people who'll be there. It's a diverse crowd. Lots of people our age. Most of the town shows up, as does everyone else from the surrounding areas.”

Rachel shook her head, rejecting the offer. “Thanks, but no. I will have finally finished all those cookies and I'll be exhausted. Besides, I'm not ready to be out on the Morrisville social scene.”

“Not even to find a rebound guy?”

“Not even.”

“Too bad. Lance Gordon just got divorced. He's a great catch. His wife was a gold digger. Luckily, there were no kids. She didn't get anything, and she moved back to Terre Haute.”

“Not interested.” Lance was another schoolmate in their graduating class. His family owned several gas stations.

“So I guess it's just Colin you're pining for. I mean, why else would he kiss you?”

“Maybe he did it to see if
his
toes curled.” Rachel exhaled her frustration at the question that had been consuming her for two weeks. “I don't know. I've never been able to figure out the man, and I grew up next door to him and sent him messages using Morse code. He said he liked me during high school. I don't get it. If the kiss was important, wouldn't he come around to see me? All I got was the copy of the letter he sent to Marco.”

Heather winced. “Ouch.”

“Exactly. It's like he thinks this kiss was a big mistake. It's lousy déjà vu all over again.”

“Hang in there,” Heather consoled her.

“Trying.” Rachel finished the wine in her glass. At least she'd shared the bottle with friends.

“You've heard nothing from Marco's camp yet?” Heather asked.

Rachel sighed and set her wineglass aside. “No. I'm not sure if no news is good news. I'm hoping so, though. I could use some good fortune to come my way.”

“It will,” Heather said with a vigorous nod. She grimaced. “Ouch. I don't usually drink wine. I really haven't had anything to drink since nine months before Erin. Wait—did I already say that? Hangovers and early-rising babies don't mix.”

“Think of tonight as preparation for the green beer you'll have this Saturday.”

“Clearly I need practice. I've turned into a lightweight if this is all it took to get me tipsy. Luckily the Knights of Columbus is only two blocks over. Unless it's really cold, we'll walk. That way neither of us has to worry about being a designated driver or where the car keys are. Keith's mom is babysitting. He and I haven't had a night to ourselves in forever. Not that I've minded,” Heather added hastily. “But I can't wait just to have a totally uninterrupted night. You really should meet us there. It'll be fun.”

“I'll think about it,” Rachel conceded, wondering when she'd last “let go.” Since her relocation to New York, she couldn't remember one time that she'd behaved as if she didn't have a care in the world.

She knew Heather and Keith wouldn't really tie one on at the Knights of Columbus hall and get totally drunk, yet the idea of being able to simply have fun without worrying about appearances was appealing. Heck, in Morrisville you still didn't have to lock your doors, meaning that Heather and Keith could spend St. Patrick's Day with only one focus—each other.