What a Man's Gotta Do (16 page)

Her movements hitched for a second, but she said, “Has nothing to do with my mother,” rinsed her hands in the sink, then zipped past him back into the hall and toward the kitchen. Eddie followed. “And trust me,” she said, “the floor wasn't any better. But I was afraid if I went to bed, I wouldn't hear Carrie if she called.”

Mala dragged a can of coffee out of the refrigerator just as the dog yipped at the back door. Eddie let him in, shivering in the blast of frigid air that came in with him. “Thought mothers heard every noise their kids made?”

“Not this one,” she said, counting out spoonfuls of coffee into the basket. “I sleep like the dead. So when the kids are sick, I pretty much have to stay with them. Whaddya want for breakfast? Oh, Lord—” she rammed home the coffee basket, spun around and took off for the door. “I've got to call the kids in sick. I'll be right back.”

Warning! Warning! Domesticity alert!

“You know,” Eddie said, inching toward the back door, “if you don't need me anymore, I think I'm just going to go on, catch a few hours sleep before I have to go into work.”

Mala turned, one hand on the doorjamb, other on her hip, and all he could think was,
“Uh-oh.”

“I see.”

“No, I don't think you do. And both of us are too damned tired to get into this right now.”

“Oh, Eddie, give me a break.” Mala walked back toward him, pushing her hair behind her ear before planting her hands on hips that Eddie was sorely regretting not having been able to guide over his own last night. “Sexual encounter is over, crisis is over, so what's the point of hanging around, right? I mean, God forbid you might actually find yourself getting too comfortable around here.”

“Now, just hold on a dadburned minute! Who was the one who said she didn't want me getting involved with her kids?”

“Yeah, well, that got shot to hell the minute you put up those damn Christmas lights.” She took a step closer, eyes flashing. “Here's a newsflash for ya, buddy—a man who doesn't want to get involved wouldn't have volunteered to spend the night watching a six-year-old lose his cookies every twenty minutes. You
are
involved, Eddie, whether you like it or not. Maybe not forever, and maybe more than either of us had planned on, but somehow or other, it happened. I wouldn't've gotten through last night without your help, much as it pains me to admit it. So all I'm trying to do is show my appreciation with some bacon and eggs, only you…you…”

With a strangled growl, she threw her hands into the air. “
God!
Did it ever, just once, occur to you that you don't always have to have a
reason
to hang around? That maybe your company is worthwhile, all by itself?”

Silence cracked between them for several seconds. Then Eddie said, “You through?”

Her chin went up, but her eyes narrowed. “For the moment.”

He grabbed his jacket off the back of one of the chairs, where he'd left it the night before, slapping it over his shoulder as he jabbed one finger at the most infuriating women he'd ever met in his life. “And maybe it's about time you got it through
your
head that you're worth a helluva lot more than some safety-net fling with a man who you know damn well isn't gonna hang around.”

“That's my choice, Eddie. And you know my reasons.”

“Well, not getting tied down's mine. And the same goes.”

By rights, that should have been his exit line. But for some fool reason, he just stood there, staring her down, until she finally said, like a challenge, “This mean the affair's off?”

The suggestion startled him far more than it should have. “You want out?”

After an obvious struggle of several seconds' duration, she shook her head.

“Good. 'Cause after last night, you owe me one. Big time.”

Then
he left, wondering exactly who'd won that argument.

 

Mala had left the kitchen full of fury and righteous indignation. Ten minutes later, she returned in a daze, her hand over her mouth.

She'd turned the phone's ringer down sometime in the middle of the night, on the off chance a wrong number or something might wake up the kids. Granted, the phone rarely rang that late, but you never knew. And she figured the world could do without her for a few hours, in any case. When she'd gone in just now to call the school, there'd been two messages, both left before seven. One was from her mother, telling Mala to call her if she needed anything.

And then there was the other one.

On autopilot, Mala poured herself a cup of coffee, feeling as though the house's silence had sucked out her brain. She heard Eddie's footsteps overhead, thought briefly how odd it was, his hearing from his father last night.

She could still smell him, on her skin, her pajamas. Could still feel him, where he'd touched inside her. Could still see the terror in those hot blue eyes, the panic in his voice just now, that she might try to trap him.

God. Was a there a more muleheaded man on the face of the earth?

Or a more hopeless woman?

She gulped down the first few swallows of coffee, then wandered down the hall to check again on the kids. They were still asleep, at peace and mercifully oblivious that their mother was
this close
to a nervous breakdown. Oh, all right, so she was
being a little overdramatic, but she was sleep deprived and in shock. She was entitled.

A minute later, she was back at the kitchen table in a catatonic trance, ignoring the dog and trying to convince herself her life hadn't just gone to hell in a handbasket. The good news was she had new tires, the kids were already better and her period of celibacy had just officially, if not technically, ended. The bad news was it was next door to Christmas and she still hadn't put up a tree or finished her shopping or done her cards, her mother was undoubtedly hearing wedding bells, her father had probably put Eddie under twenty-four hour surveillance, and everything she'd said to Eddie about just wanting sex and nothing else had basically been a lie and everything Eddie had said to her about not wanting to get involved hadn't been. And if she had an ounce of smarts she'd call things off with Eddie right this minute, except she had about as much intention of doing that as she had of telling her mother when she'd
really
lost her virginity.

And oh, yeah—after three years of total noncommunication, her ex-husband had left a message on her answering machine, saying he wanted to see her. Just what she needed to add to the joy of this holiday season, a visit from the ghost of Husbands Past.

Ho, ho, ho.

I
t was nearly five, right after Eddie finished checking in the night's supply of meat and poultry, when Galen waddled into the restaurant. It looked like they were gonna be shorthanded again tonight, since only three of the cooking staff had shown up so far. They were all occupied on the other side of the kitchen, mercifully; Eddie frowned, something he'd been doing a lot since storming out of Mala's kitchen that morning.

“What are you doin' here?”

Galen lifted one eyebrow, amusement twinkling in her eyes. She removed the coat that didn't even begin to close over her huge middle and plopped it on the coatrack by the back door. “Last time I checked, I owned the place.” Eddie grunted. “And aren't we in a grouchy mood today?”

Eddie grunted again. Wasn't like he could tell her—or anybody, for that matter—what was really bugging him. Between his father's making contact with him, and his making contact of an entirely different nature with Mala…well, right now, he didn't think his sorry brain could get any more balled up than it was. So instead, he mumbled something about not getting
much sleep due to Mala's kids being sick the night before and how he'd stayed up with them.

Now the other eyebrow raised, which is when Eddie realized just how tired he was, since he sure as hell wouldn't've admitted such a thing if he'd been fully awake. Mercifully, Galen said nothing, other than to ask him to come into the office.

“Close the door,” she said, wedging herself behind the desk. “And take a load off.” Eddie did, although he was mildly afraid if she kept him too long, he'd conk out right there in the chair. She riffled through some papers on her desk for a moment, then looked up at him with a pleased grin. “Business has been great, hasn't it?”

“I guess. I know I've been cookin' my butt off these past couple of weeks.”

“I'll say you have. In fact, if I were the jealous type, I'd be pretty upset right about now.”

Eddie was startled to feel his neck warm. “Don't be. From what I can tell, there's plenty of folks wondering when you'll be back.”

“And I have it on good authority from the trusty grapevine that plenty of people will be very sorry when you go.” She paused. “Me being one of them.”

Something prickly crawled up Eddie's back. “What're you gettin' at, Galen?”

She folded her hands together on her desk, then said, “There's a classy, well-established restaurant called
Gardner's
out on the highway in a high-traffic area, right next to a major mall. You know it?”

“I think maybe I've passed it now and again.”

“Well, the owners are tired of the Michigan winters or something and want out as soon as possible. It's a good deal, an even better opportunity…and I want it for a second location. Trouble is, I obviously can't be in two places at once. And with the baby, I'm going to have to cut back as it is. So…I'd like to give you first crack at it.”

He stilled. “What?”

“Manager/head chef to begin. Full partner, if you want to buy in at some point down the road.” When he didn't reply,
Galen let out an exasperated breath. “Oh, come on, Eddie—you're wasted as just a cook, and you know it. You're too talented, and too smart, to keep doing this itinerant number forever. Look, Mala and I went over the books a couple nights back. Not only are gross receipts up, but so are profits. You're more than a terrific chef, Eddie. You've got a good business head on your shoulders, if these numbers are any indication. And you're good with the staff, too. Believe me, if anyone had found you to be a pain in the can, I'd've known about it long ago.”

Eddie tried to breathe normally through the bands constricting his chest. “I told you, I don't like cookin' the same kind of food—”

“That's entirely up to you.
Gardner's
is already heavily continental, so you could build on that. Some French, some Italian? Maybe even some Mexican? Shoot, Eddie—you can be as creative as you like, I don't care.”

“Mala and I were going over the books…”

Suspicion curled in his belly. “You've known me less than a month. Don't you think making me an offer like this is kind of a big risk?”

“You're talking to a woman who moved here from Pittsburgh on little more than a hunch. I sank everything I had into this place, without a clue whether it would even fly. Believe me, this doesn't even come close.”

Eddie looked her in the eye. “I'm very flattered. But I can't accept.”

“Which is what I expected you to say. But the offer's open, Eddie. Del's encouraging me to go ahead and get my bid in now, even though I can't do anything about it until after the baby's born. So if you change your mind—”

He stood then. “I won't. In fact…” Lying wasn't his strong suit, God knew. And this wasn't as much of a lie as it was a half truth: he'd gone to the library this morning, searched for jobs on the Internet. Hadn't made up his mind until just this second, though. “I've got another job lined up in Vegas, starting April first. I figured that'd give you more than enough
time for your maternity leave after the baby comes.”

“I see.” She messed with something on her desk. “Does Mala know about this?”

“If she had, don't you think she would've brought it up in your conversation about my…capabilities?”

Galen's head snapped up, making Eddie realize he'd just made his second blunder in ten minutes. “I was talking about the apartment, Eddie. Mala knows nothing about my plans, not yet. Or that I was planning on making you this offer.” Her eyes narrowed. “Is there…something going on between you two?”

Eddie crossed his arms. “Not meanin' to be disrespectful, but I'm not sure how that's any of your concern.”

“True,” Galen said quietly, her gaze linked with his. “But Mala's one of my best friends. I gather she's been through a lot, from what her brother has told Del and me. And she's lonely, although I sometimes think everyone else knows that but her. So just…tread carefully.”

“No problem,” Eddie said tightly, then stomped back to the kitchen, where he determined that if he never set foot in a dadburned small town again, it would be too soon.

The chore list was up, and everyone was busy, but there were a boatload more items on the list than hands to carry them out. Eddie stalked to the refrigerator, dragged out a bag of bell peppers which he then slammed onto the wooden island in the center of the kitchen.

“Where the hell's my knife?”

His favorite appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, followed by a blur as Delman skittered away to his station on the other side of the kitchen.

“Hey, Eddie,” Marlene yelled from the stove where she was stirring a sauce she'd gotten going two hours before, her dark face glowing from the scented steam. “You wouldn't by any chance be in a bad mood, would you?”

With one swift move, he neatly eviscerated the first pepper. “As a matter of fact, I am. Wanna make something of it?”

Marlene just laughed. “No. But I guess I'll be staying out of your way as long as you got that knife in your hand.”

Wham!
One pepper, guillotined.
Wham, wham, wham!
Followed in rapid succession by its comrades.

It was more than small-town protectiveness threatening to strangle him, he knew that. Hell, he felt like those people in the original
Star Wars
film, caught in that garbage compactor and in imminent danger of being turned into waffles. For the first time in years, he felt like he was losing control of his life. That events were conspiring against him like they hadn't since he was a kid. And he did not like it, not one bit. For someone who'd devoted his entire adult life to avoiding complications, he was sure up to his butt in 'em now, boy.

That P.I. swore that Eddie's father wouldn't try to get in touch with him, but for all Eddie knew, the man was on his way to Spruce Lake at this very minute, determined to have a reunion Eddie had never wanted. God, he wanted to jump in the Camaro and take off. But this time, he couldn't. He'd made a commitment to Galen, and he wouldn't, couldn't, break it.

And then she goes and makes him that offer, to boot. Wasn't like he hadn't had similar offers before, which she already knew. What was so scary about this one, though, was how much it tempted him. Truth was, the moving around was beginning to get old. And his own place…

But not here. Not where Mala was. Because if he stayed, he'd hurt her.

Even more than if he left.

The peppers done, he moved on to onions, checked the clock—two hours before opening.

Bad enough he'd gone along, was still going along, with Mala's sex-and-nothing-but-sex scheme. Take two achy people, one of whom could persuade the devil he needed to be saved if you gave her long enough, and bam! Down goes a guard Eddie knew he had no business letting down. Sure, she
said
she wasn't looking for anything permanent, that she knew he was bad for her—which sure as hell was true enough—that she knew exactly what she was doing… And maybe she did. But this was asking for trouble, and he damn well knew it. What
if she didn't know herself quite as well as she thought she did? What then? The last thing Eddie needed was Mala's broken heart on his conscience. Not to mention her daddy taking out a contract on his life.

It wasn't just Eddie's being bad for Mala that made this such a dumb idea. It was that Mala was just as bad for Eddie. Because, like it or not, he got ideas when he was around her. Ideas about fittin' in. About home. About things that simply weren't gonna happen, whether he stayed or not.

Which meant, if he had a shred of decency and honor left in his sorry body, he'd tell her the deal was off.

He brought the knife down so hard on the chopping board, everybody in the kitchen jumped a foot.

 

“Mama! Uncle Steve's here! An' he's got a
tree!
”

Clutching her sweater closed, Mala traipsed down the hall toward the front door, wondering how it was that two kids who had been virtually lifeless less than twenty-four hours earlier could be so damn energetic now. Ever since early this afternoon, they'd done nothing but race and tear around the house, shattering her concentration to smithereens. They had slept, after all. She hadn't.

But then she caught a whiff of Noble fir and saw her brother's goofy grin and the way the kids were just about to turn inside out from excitement and somehow, things didn't seem quite so bad.

“What on earth—?”

“Ma said you didn't have one yet, and I was in the neighborhood, so here.” Steve shouldered his way inside with the enormous tree, thunked it in the middle of the hall. Needles and water flew everywhere.

“You lie like a rug. And I love you to pieces,” she said, fighting through the branches to give him a hug. “Geez, what'd you do? Get the biggest one they had? And where's everybody else?”

“Waiting at home, probably wondering where I am. Where you want it?”

“Oh, shoot…the stand's still out in the garage. Just prop it against the wall, I'll deal with it after dinner.”

“Aw, Mama…” Carrie said, just as Mala caught her brother mouthing, “We need to talk.”

She frowned at Steve, then turned to her daughter. “Another hour won't kill you, missy. Now why don't you two go back to watching your movie, and finish your soup before it gets cold.”

“Awww…”

“Now, Carrie.”

The kids tromped back to the living room. Mala crossed her arms. “What?”

“Heard somebody left a message on your machine today.”

Oh, my. She hadn't seen a murderous expression like that on Steve's face since the
last
time she'd heard from Scott. Well, if she hadn't wanted the Koleski Mafia to close ranks around her, she should't've told her mother to begin with.

“Ma told you, I take it?”

“Actually, it was Pop.” Steve crossed his massive forearms over his open down parka, his pale brows nearly meeting. “You talk to Scott yet?”

Mala swiped her hair behind her ear, thinking how strange it was that the little brother she'd protected when she was eight and he was four now not only outweighed her by a good eighty pounds, but was the one protecting her. Or trying to, at least. Would Lucas one day be Carrie's protector? Now there was a weird thought… “Nope. He didn't leave a number and he hasn't called back.”

The frown grew more serious. “You think he's in town?”

“I have no idea.”

“You know, you really gotta get Caller ID—”

“Steve, relax, okay? I mean, I'll admit I was thrown when I first heard, and I probably shouldn't've told Ma until I'd had a chance to get hold of myself…but I have now. I'm fine, I swear. Whatever this is about, I can handle it.”

“After what he did to you—”

“
Did,
Steve. Past tense. He can't hurt me anymore.
Nobody
can hurt me anymore.” Eddie's implacable expression during
their argument that morning flashed through her thought, just as her heart pinged a little too loudly against her ribs. “You got over your ex, I got over Scott.”

“That's different.”

“Why? Because you're a big, strong man and I'm a weak, vulnerable little woman?”

“Oh, don't go getting all feminist on me, for cripes' sake. Francine's head games were kid stuff compared to what Scott pulled on you.”

“Then that just means I'm the stronger one for overcoming more than you did.”

Shaking his head, Steve let out an okay-you-win chuckle. Then he bent over, grabbing her by the shoulder and planting a kiss on the top of her head. “I gotta scoot. But you hear from that bum again…”

“Thanks for the tree, sweetie. Give Sophie and the kids my love.”