Page 49 of Take Me Tender

Jay shuffled back, embarrassed by the other man’s very Latin, very emotional outburst. He almost held his breath, just like he did when he got in an elevator with someone who was sneezing. Shit like that might be contagious.

Shanna was smiling at the sap, though. Some color had returned to her face. “You’d go on without me, you know you would.”

“No, no—”

“Shh.” She reached out to put her hand over his mouth and he held it against his lips for a kiss. “Tell him what you told me, Jay.”

Jay started. “Huh?”

She nodded at him. “Tell Jorge what you’ve been telling me.”

Ah. He looked over at his friend, meeting the dark eyes that seemed wet—God, the other man wasn’t near tears, was he? “What I’ve been saying, Jorge, is that you don’t need any man to be someone.”

“What?” Jorge’s brows slammed together. “Of course, I don’t need a man. You know damn well I’m straight.”

The drama of the scene must be upsetting Jorge’s thinking processes. Jay laughed. “What I mean is, I’ve been telling your woman that she doesn’t need any man to be someone.”

Still looking confused, Jorge turned to Shanna. “But you want me, yes? You love me.”

“Of course. I do.” She caressed his whiskery cheek with her palm. “But a woman can be happy without a man. I could live without you.”

“But I don’t want to live apart.” Jorge’s face registered alarm. “You must marry me. You must say yes.”

Christ. Marriage?

Jay took another step back. The man was going all out here. But Shanna’s smile was tender, and if happiness was a color, it was that dawn-pink staining her cheeks. “Yes, yes, I’ll marry you. But the point is—Oh, I’ll explain it to you later. Right now, I need a kiss.”

Grinning, Jay took that—finally—as his cue to leave. He could turn his attention to himself now. And to his chef with benefits.

Smile dying, he recalled with a chill Shanna’s almost-last words: A woman can be happy without a man.

Did that include Nikki?

Summer’s end was nearing, and as Nikki inched her way up PCH it was clear from the multitude of cars around her that everyone wanted to spend it at Malibu, while all she wanted was to be out of the place. Still, she’d had to make one final trip beachside, even though she was careful not to glance at Jay’s house as she passed. By now he’d probably woken to find her gone, and as much as she knew he loved her coffee and though she expected he very much enjoyed the sex they’d shared, in his heart of Hef Junior hearts, she figured he was glad she’d made the first move and left him.

“Love me,” he’d said last night, the ass. No wonder women followed him around like hungry cats after the smell of salmon. When a golden-haired, silver-tongued professional bachelor like Jay Buchanan whispered “love” in a bed partner’s ear, who could blame most for not detecting the distinction between “love you” and “love me?”

Even she had almost fallen for it, and though she’d drawn herself back from the brink, her heart had still suffered. Damn man. If she ever came across him again, she’d give him a piece—No, she never wanted to come across him again.

A sudden red light made her stomp on the brake pedal. Ow. Ow ow ow ow ow. Pain radiated in a sharp sunburst from her injured knee, and though the A/C blasted like an arctic wind, sweat popped on her forehead.

Yesterday had proven to be the end of something else, too. The self-concocted myth that she could make a private chef career despite her bum joint was now officially debunked. Whether it was the result of Jenner’s shove and her fall, or just the accumulation of wear-and-tear despite the more relaxed kitchen work of late, the swollen size of her knee and the pain it was producing testified to the truth.

She’d lost her last hope to continue a culinary career.

Shoving that thought from her mind, she turned into the driveway shared by the café and Malibu & Ewe. There were a few cars clustered around the eatery, but it was much too early for knitting shop hours, just as she’d planned it.

Limping toward the front door with a basket under her arm, she breathed in one of her last breaths of Malibu summer. There was ocean in the air, of course, and the delicious, greasy smell of Gabe’s fish and chips. She’d been attempting to wheedle the recipe for the batter from him, but so far without success. He seemed the sort of man well-armored against female sweet talk.

Even Cassandra could rarely get any emotion out of him besides annoyance…or outrage.

Nikki bent to place her burden on the welcome mat outside the door to Malibu & Ewe.

“Little sister,” Cassandra said from behind her. “This is a surprise.”

Making a face, Nikki took a long time straightening up and then turning around to confront the other woman. She’d so hoped to ditch and dash. But now she was caught, and Cassandra was playing the little sister card again.

It wasn’t going to get to her, Nikki promised. It wasn’t. Not when she was here to break her last ties to Malibu.

Her eyebrows lifted to emote a very casual interest. “So how much younger am I than you?”

“Two years.” Cassandra stepped around her to lift the basket from its place. “What do we have here?”

“A parting gift, I’d guess you’d say. There’s those knitting books you let me borrow earlier in the month and a few other things I thought you might enjoy.”

“Your creations,” Cassandra said, peering into the basket with its plastic-wrapped packages.

“All vegetarian. Some muffins, two kinds of cookies, and a container of vegetable chowder. It’s frozen, and will keep for weeks.”

“Thank you.” The yarn shop owner drew out a set of keys from her pocket and unlocked the door to push it open. “Will you come in for some tea?”

Nikki stepped back, swallowing her wince at the answering twinge in her knee, and shook her head. “I’m going. I have to get back home.”

“I thought you had a few more days with Jay.”

That wouldn’t be wise. “I’m cutting out a little early.”

“Another job lined up?”

Nikki shook her head. “It turns out I’m not going to be cooking for a living anymore.”

Cassandra stepped into the shop, flipped on the lights, then threw a glance over her shoulder. “That means I’d better try these cookies ASAP if they’re my last chance at Nikki’s cuisine. Come in and have some tea. Except for the food, I won’t bite, so you don’t have to be afraid.”

Old habits answered for her. “I’m not scared.”

Cassandra smiled. “I didn’t think so.”

So that was how Nikki found herself on one of the cushiony couches, her bad leg propped on an ottoman, idly winding a skein of yarn into a ball. Cassandra had shown her how a couple of weeks before.

Nikki dropped it into her lap when the other woman pressed a mug of tea in her hand. She sipped, then resisted the urge to spit the stuff out. “Oh, God. I’m starting to sympathize with Gabe. That stuff is vile.”

With a graceful flutter of her calf-length skirt, Cassandra settled on the couch across from her. “You get used to it.”

“No.” Nikki slid the mug onto a nearby table and pushed it well away. “You get used to taxes. To putting gas in your car. You’re not supposed to have to get used to something you introduce to your taste buds unless it stops raging disease or cellulite from forming on your thighs. I know of some excellent herbal blends, heck, I can even put together one myself that’s got to be a thousand times better than this.”

“Which doesn’t sound like a woman no longer interested in the culinary world.”

“I didn’t say I’m not interested in cooking. I’ve loved my work with food.” She retrieved the yarn ball to resume winding. “The chance to put together different colors and textures and tastes…”

“Well, then why—”

“It doesn’t matter.” Answering the big “why” question meant revealing her weakness—and she wasn’t thinking about her damn knee for the moment. With the yarn still in her hands, she rose from the couch. “Anyway, I have to, um, get on…”

“With Jay’s lunch?”

She didn’t want to think about him either. “No, no. I told you, I’m leaving Malibu. I’m leaving the job with him. I’ve got to go home and get, um, back to my, uh, fish.”

“Fish?” With a wave, Cassandra dismissed that excuse. “That doesn’t sound pressing. Sit back down.”

Nikki stayed where she was, but smiled a little. “You’re bossy. No wonder you’re the oldest.”

“But I’m not.” Her gaze was direct. “I’m in the middle.”

“What?” Stunned, Nikki dropped back to the couch. “There’s…there’s someone else? You didn’t mention that before.”

“You asked me not to tell you any more, remember?” Cassandra picked up a pair of needles and some yarn off the couch beside her and started clicking away. Nikki had no idea what she was making, but it combined the colors of blue, green, and peach.

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