Seducing His Heart Page 5

  Time seemed to stand still when she wished it would rush by. They continued their walk south of the Great Lawn and to the East Side. Grassy fields were still green. Bess broke the rules by letting the pug loose in a field for a short romp.

  Her mind flipped back to the day she had met Terry at pug hill in Central Park. She smiled as she recalled their flirtation and his allowing her friends to avoid expensive tickets for having their dogs off-leash at the wrong time. She chuckled at the memory as she directed them back to Central Park West.

  A long, hot bath soothed her nerves. She dressed in velour pants and top in deep purple, which emphasized the blue of her eyes. A drop of blush to her flawless, peachy skin, mascara, a dab of perfume between her breasts, and she was ready.

  After throwing together a salad and feeding the dog, Bess cut two pieces of each pie and put them on plates. She munched on the greens while waiting for Terry. He was prompt, for a change. He knocked, causing Dumpling to jump up and race to the door, barking.

  “Like I didn’t hear him?” she said to the pooch.

  “Hi, baby,” he greeted, kissing her. His gun handle pressed against her stomach. He scratched the dog behind the ears, stepped inside, and closed the door. Bess sank down on the sofa and patted the cushion next to her.

  Terry joined her. “I can’t stay long.”

  “Long enough for pie?”

  “Apple?”

  “Is there any other kind for you?” She pushed to her feet and headed for the kitchen, Terry following. Dumpling wandered over to her bed. She circled a few times, curled up, and closed her eyes. “I tried a couple of new things. Tell me what you think.”

  “Sure.”

  Bess placed the plates on the counter. “Which do you like better? Or are both bad?”

  “Bad? Your pie? Ridiculous,” he said, tucking into the crumb one first.

  They ate in silence for a while. “So? What’s the verdict?” Her gaze met his.

  “Both. Love both. They’re different. Apples and oranges…pun intended,” he said, chuckling at his own joke.

  “No preference?”

  “Can’t say. Maybe the cheesy one is a little better. But they’re both great.” He stood up and placed his hands on her upper arms. “We need to talk.”

  Her pulse kicked up, and her heart raced. Those are never good words. “What’s up?” She tried to keep her tone casual, but the light of concern in his eyes showed her he wasn’t buying it.

  “You know my work is…difficult. Dangerous. Right?”

  “Yeah. I assume you’re careful.”

  “Things have gotten…out-of-hand on this assignment.” He rubbed his eyes.

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means I have to stop seeing you.”

  “What?” She rose from the stool.

  “I hate like hell to give you up. I have no choice.”

  “What do you mean, ‘you have no choice’? Everybody has choices…all the time.” A spark of anger mixed with the adrenaline flowing through her veins.

  “It’s not safe. I’m putting you in danger. This is our last time together.”

  “You’re breaking up with me?” Her mouth fell open.

  “Don’t put it like that. Not breaking up. Only taking a break. A long break. Trying to keep you safe, Bess. I don’t want to do this, but I have to.”

  “You don’t want to, then don’t.”

  “Baby, it’s a done deal. We’re through until things are safe. If you still want me then…”

  Emotion crawled up her chest. “If I still want you?”

  “By the time it’s safe again…who knows when that’ll be.”

  “So, this is the end of us?”

  He nodded. “I’m afraid so. Bess, you’re great. The best.”

  “You’re not in love with me. Never have been.”

  “You’re not in love with me, either,” he responded.

  But almost. Fingers tightened around her heart and speaking became difficult. His eyes were hooded and unreadable. She’d seen the look before whenever she had questioned him about his work. She’d disliked it then and hated it now. “We’re heading there,” she said.

  “With a little more time, who knows?” he said, stroking her hair. “But we’re out of time. We have to call it quits.”

  Bess burst into tears. Terry pulled her into his embrace. “Don’t cry, baby. You’re the best. We had good times.”

  She clutched his navy shirt as her tears wetted the fabric. Terry kissed her forehead and ran his hands down her back. She pushed away from him, hunting for a tissue. After cleaning her face, she stared at him. He looks sad. “I almost think you’re sorry to leave.”

  He huffed and shrugged. “What does a guy have to do? Cut off his left nut to convince you I didn’t want to do this?”

  Silence followed. Terry checked his watch. His cell dinged. When he snapped it closed, his gaze connected with hers. She saw regret there. Emotion flared up, bringing fresh tears to be blinked back.

  “Gotta go.” He headed for the door. She followed, with Dumpling third in line.

  “Terry, I…” But the words stuck in her throat. What do I say? I love you? I don’t, do I?

  “I know, babe. This is a terrible way to end things. I get it. At least you’ll be safe.”

  He kissed her at the elevator then was gone. The sudden draft of cool air that replaced the heat of his body against hers brought his departure home. She stood frozen.

  Whit’s door opened. He was tying his tie as he joined her. “Hi. How are you?” He bent down to pet Dumpling, who was panting and sniffing his leg.

  Bess turned to look at him. His cool, gray eyes set her off. Tears flooded forth, gushing down her cheeks. She raised her hand to her mouth as she ran for her apartment. Whit was right behind her, but the door slammed in his face. Bess threw herself down on her bed and cried until she fell asleep with her pug curled up next to her.

  * * * *

  A wrong number on her landline woke Bess at two in the morning. After sleeping in her clothes, she was uncomfortable and disoriented. She pulled at her shirt, which was twisted around, and tugged her pants leg down. Bess padded into the kitchen and checked her cell. Will there be a message from Terry? Did I dream our breakup? Totally awake, she put the kettle on to boil for tea. Dumpling yawned, shooting an annoyed look at Bess for interrupting her sleep. The pug promptly curled up in her kitchen bed and was snoring almost immediately.

  There was a message from Ned.

  Am well enough to work. Will be at taping tomorrow. Hope you have something new for next week. What are you working on?

  Bess smiled. The pies. Perfect for next week’s show. Damn. I have to be on camera. Look at me. Crying. I’m a mess. She pulled out cucumbers, lay down on the sofa, and put two slices on her eyes to reduce the puffiness. Classical music played on her laptop. She tried not to think about Terry. “The Nutcracker Suite” came on. Maybe I’ll get tickets for that at Christmas. Nothing else to do. Sounds good. Maybe the Dinner Club will want to go?

  There was a knock on her door. She jumped, and Dumpling barked. She opened it to find Whit, tie hanging loose, shirt open, eyes a touch bloodshot. The faint aroma of rum swirled around him.

  “That’s a little loud. Some people are trying to sleep.”

  “Fully dressed? Right.”

  He put his foot in the door as she attempted to close it. “I’m asking nicely.”

  “Don’t you like classical music?”

  “The Nutcracker? Makes me want to put on my tutu and prance around the living room. Yes, I like classical. Not in the middle of the night.”

  As she was about to agree to turn it down, a feminine voice piped up. “Come to bed, Whit,” the whiny woman pleaded.

  Bess’s eyes widened. She peeked around him to see Candy standing in her skimpy bra and panties in his doorway. “I’d guess sleep is not on your agenda for the next hour.” She pushed the door hard, but his hand shot up to stop it.

  “How t
he hell do you know what’s on my agenda?” His eyes clouded. “An hour? You think I spend an hour making love?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “You did. You said exactly that. I may have had a few tonight, but I know what you said.”

  Color heated her cheeks. “I didn’t mean it like that. I picked a number out of the air.”

  “An hour. Out of the air. How much time do you spend in the sack with your cop?”

  At the mention of Terry, fresh tears threatened. Words stuck in her throat.

  His cocky expression melted into one of concern. “What happened?”

  “None of your business. None of your business how much time I spend in the sack with anyone. Go to bed. Go to sleep. I don’t care. Leave me alone!” Her barrage of words forced him back. She seized the opportunity to slam and lock the door. Bess leaned her forehead against it. Dumpling whined and sat at her feet. Tears dripped down her cheeks and onto the floor.

  She quieted down and heard steps in the hall. Whit’s door closed gently. She let out a breath. Do I have to face him and the women he’s screwing every day? Damn.

  Her cell rang. It was Ned.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Why do you ask?” She tried to control the shake in her voice.

  “Because I sent you a text, and you didn’t respond. You always answer. Often with something snide. It’s the highlight of my day. So, what’s up?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Bullshit. Then why are you up in the middle of the night?”

  “How do you know I’m up?”

  “You answered on the first ring, and you don’t sound sleepy. Unless you’re doing something naughty with your hot cop and I interrupted?”

  “Nope. I’ll be ready for the taping tomorrow. And I do have something new. Can you come tomorrow to taste?”

  “Dinner thrown in?”

  “Of course.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  “Good.”

  As she was about to hang up, he spoke up. “And whatever it is, I hope it gets better. I hope you’ll be okay.”

  “I will. Thanks, Ned.”

  “Love you, lady.”

  “Love you, too.”

  She sighed and closed the phone. After washing up, she shed her clothes and climbed back between the sheets. Dumpling joined her. She slept deeply until eight o’clock, when the alarm woke them both.

  She dragged herself out of bed. Exhaustion made every step a chore. Taping day. Get going. The show must go on. Come on.

  After a shower, Bess threw on jeans, harnessed Dumpling, and headed to the studio. They had a wardrobe for her there. Dumpling joined her, except while they were taping, when the noisy pug was relegated to the back room.

  Once she was there, Bess’s mind was taken up with baking. Ned’s presence helped. He kissed her cheek when he saw her. Their gazes locked. He always knows when there’s something wrong.

  Bess couldn’t shake the heaviness in her chest. It stayed with her throughout the day. The mocha magic recipes, products, and program were a success. The tasters from the audience raved. Bess was able to toss in a line about the aphrodisiac properties of the chocolate and coffee mixture then laugh it off. I’m becoming an actress, too.

  After the audience left, her producer, Woody Bledsoe, approached her. “That mocha stuff rocks. The show was great. A big winner. We’re gonna re-run it when you go on vacay. Brilliant, Bess. Great job.”

  She smiled and thanked him.

  Ned tugged on her arm. “Let’s go,” he said to her then turned to the producer. “She’s got some fabulous new take on apple pie.”

  “Go, go. Don’t let me get in the way. You’re amazing, Bess. Very creative. Ratings are good.”

  “Thanks, Woody. I needed that today.” She slipped her hand through Dumpling’s leash loop and walked out with Ned and the pug.

  Once they were on the street, Ned narrowed his eyes. “Okay. Out with it. I want the truth. What the hell’s going on?”

  The story tumbled out, at first in words so fast she couldn’t stop, then in fits and starts. She swallowed to control her emotions. Terry’s absence hadn’t sunk in yet. Tomorrow is Friday. I’ll feel it then. Ned took her hand as they walked up the avenue. The late afternoon breeze turned colder, making her shiver.

  Crash tipped his hat and bent to greet the dog, who gave him her paw. Once inside the apartment, Bess fed Dumpling then offered Ned the sample pies, explaining what she had done and why. It wasn’t long before they were immersed in discussion about the recipe, cinnamon quantities, directions, and cooking times.

  Ned curtailed his usual sarcastic attitude. Bess silently thanked him, as her nerves were raw and her patience gone. Focusing on the cheesy apple pie helped her body absorb the sadness flowing through.

  “Dessert first, now dinner? This is whack,” Ned said.

  “You were sick. You missed my spaghetti and meatballs.”

  “The meal you made to go with cannoli?”

  “I’ve got some leftover in the freezer. How about I heat it up?”

  “Sounds great.”

  While Bess worked in the kitchen, Ned regaled her with the trials and tribulations of his relationship with Serge, his boyfriend of six months. She laughed, made sympathetic noises when appropriate, and was grateful for the diversion.

  Ned raved over Bess’s Italian cooking and kept her up until ten. After he left, she slipped on her jacket and took Dumpling out for her late night walk. They strolled down Central Park West, not in a hurry, with no particular place to go.

  On the way back, a taxi pulled up. Whitfield Bass got out. He smiled at her and stood aside to let her enter the building first. “Are you feeling better today?” he asked as they rode the elevator.

  “I’m all right. Thank you. Returning from a hot date?”

  “Business dinner.”

  “Really?” She cocked an eyebrow at him.

  “I’m not out tomcatting every night. A man has to attend to business, too, once in a while,” he said, grinning.

  “Goodnight,” she said, quietly, when the doors opened. Fatigue and upset had worn her down. She fumbled with her key in the lock. “Damn. Forgot.” She turned the knob, and the door opened. “I never lock it.” She gave a mirthless laugh.

  “Obviously, you’re not fine. Is there something I can do?” Whit stood poised on his own threshold.

  “Nope. Nothing anybody can do. ’Night.” She slipped into her apartment and closed the door.

  * * * *

  Friday morning Bess slept in, not rising until eight o’clock. She dressed quickly and took Dumpling out for their morning walk. Once back in the apartment, she paced like a caged animal.

  “I can’t stay here all day, Dumpling. I’ll go nuts. I’m sorry, girl.” Bess threw on her fleece jacket over jeans and a light cotton sweater and hit the street. First, window shopping. Then, brunch in a local eatery. Followed by a movie.

  She returned home feeling renewed. She unpacked two dresses and a pair of new heels from a shopping bag.

  “Nothing like new clothes to make a girl feel better, baby girl,” she said to Dumpling. The dog flopped down on the bed and curled up. Bess put her clothes away. Then, she tackled the mail. A movie she had rented had arrived. It was a romantic one called Holiday. I was going to watch this with Terry. She sighed and tossed it onto the couch. Might as well watch it anyway.

  She plucked the ingredients out of the fridge for a salad and went to work. When it was done, she plopped down in front of the television and put in the DVD.

  “Oops. Sorry, girl.” She pushed to her feet and padded into the kitchen to prepare Dumpling’s dinner. As she put the food bowl down on the floor, the phone rang. It was her mother.

  “Hey, Mom. How are you?”

  “As well as can be expected. But I have good news.”

  “Yeah? Go ahead.” Bess took a forkful of lettuce, knowing her mother would be going on for a bit.

  “Remember that guy, Ronnie, y
our sister was dating?”

  “The one with five car dealerships?”

  “Yeah. The biggest account at the bank where she works.”

  “And?”

  “He asked her to marry him last night. And she said yes!” Bess could hear the satisfaction in her mother’s voice.

  The news sliced through her heart like a well-honed knife. “That’s great, Mom. Give Janie my best, will you?”

  “I will. I knew you’d be happy for her. Her life is coming together. Vice President at the bank. Soon a married woman. I hope you’ll come home for the wedding.”

  “Of course, Mom. Wouldn’t miss it.”

  “Are you all right? You sound funny. You’re not sick are you?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “When are you going to give up the little cable TV thing and come home? When Janie moves out, what am I gonna do?”

  “You’ll figure out something. I’m not leaving the show. I’d love to talk, but I’ve got something in the oven,” she lied.

  “Maybe Janie can get you a teller job at the bank?”

  Bess took a deep breath and blinked rapidly. “Don’t think so. I’m fine. Doing well. I’m not sick. I don’t want to burn my pie, Mom. Talk to you soon.” Bess hung up and fell limp onto the sofa. Dumpling barked then leaped up to lick her face.

  Janie’s thirty. She’s getting married. I got dumped. I’m thirty-two with no prospects anywhere. What am I doing with my life? Not getting married, that’s for sure. Maybe it’s too late for me, anyway. Maybe I should concentrate on my career and forget about guys. At least for a while. I wish Whit would move away. He’s too tempting and too close.

  Bess poured herself a glass of wine and went back to her movie. Wallowing in self-pity wasn’t her style, but today was different. The first Friday without Terry, and then her mother treating her like a failure, were too much at one time.

  At ten, the film finished, Bess snapped the dog into her harness and headed outside. As soon as they returned, she undressed, throwing on her silk robe, and made a cup of hot chocolate. Her doorbell rang.

  Bess peeked through the peephole. Whit. She opened the door.