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“You couldn’t do as you were told, Jack,” said Evie, his agent. Her smoker’s voice scraped across his bruised brain like a rusty rake. “What did I say?”
“I know, I know. It just sort of happened.” Jack picked up his Black Sabbath tee, the one Lili had filled out very nicely and sniffed it. He’d gotten an uncommon thrill out of her wearing his clothes. Her scent was faint, but it was enough to tap into his sensory system and revive delicious memories of holding her. And kissing her. And running his hands—
His fantasy was interrupted by a lung-hacking cough and replaced by a komodo dragon with red lipstick and pearls, lustily dragging on a cigarette. It was in no way a fair trade.
“Is there anything else I need to know about?” Evie choked out.
“No.” He decided against telling her about collapsing on the street, his visit to the emergency room, or the fact that Lili spent the night playing sexy nurse. She might not appreciate the finer points.
“So who is she?”
“Didn’t catch her name.”
Evie cackled like a Shakespearean witch. She’d be rubbing her hands in glee if she could ever relinquish the ciggie. “It’s a little late for chivalry, Jack, I already talked to Cara. She doesn’t look one bit like her, by the way. Been pigging out on the penne, has she?”
A red haze blurred his vision and when he finally spoke, it was through gritted teeth. “She’s a very nice girl.”
“Nice girls don’t do that with their hands, though the Catholics are always dark horses.”
“Give it a rest, will you?”
“Oh, God, you like her.” His agent was one sharp cookie. “She’s the daughter of the stand-in chef, right? The competition.”
“There’s nothing doing here, Evie. Don’t even bother.”
Seamlessly, she switched to spin mode. “The opposition. Food feuds. Good old Italian-American family values meets British arrogance and decadence. Falling for a nice, plump, regular gal might do wonders for your image. Stone Carter at NBN will love that garbage.”
At the mention of NBN’s veep of Programming, Jack could feel the fear of failure fading. Stone Carter was a grade A dick of the Highest Order of Dicks but he had taken a liking to Jack and wanted him on the network, a steamy barroom grope notwithstanding.
“But Jack?” Evie asked on a smoky sigh. “Yes?”
“Tell your girl to stop being so handsy in public.”
Thirteen
Walking into the kitchen of her parents’ house, Lili exhaled a noisy sigh of relief at finding her mother alone at the table, her fork hovering over an Ann Sather cinnamon roll. She dropped a kiss on Francesca’s head and feathered the wispy, baby blonde growth at her temples.
“It’s starting to come in thicker.” Lili stashed her cheese purchases from the farmers’ market in the fridge and poured herself a cup of coffee. Sitting, she carved out a sweet roll from the six pack in the box, making sure she got an extra thick slice of icing. Still warm. Only after she’d let a healing bite of doughy goodness pass her lips did she look at her mother directly. Her bright blue eyes sparkled. Of course.
“So, how is Jack?” her mother asked with an impish grin to match the eyes. No beating around the bush with her, just a straight chop with a machete.
Lili pushed out a cautious “okay.”
“Hmm, I had hoped a man as good-looking as that would be better than okay.”
Clunk. That was the sound of Lili’s jaw unhinging to the slate floor.
Her mother’s grin pulled into a wide crescent. “I am glad you are having some fun with Jack. He is a very handsome man.”
“Mom, you need to stop right there.” Before Lili was forced to place her hands over her ears and repeat la-la-la over and over to block out the horror.
“All I am saying is that he is like the dolci for the eyes and if I was twenty years younger, I would be very interested. Perhaps I should trade in your father for a younger model now I have the new bosoms.” Francesca arched a barely-there brow. Those were starting to grow in as well.
Lili could feel a smile tugging at her lips at the sight of that inner glow lighting up her mother’s translucent skin, stretched over still-pronounced cheekbones. The last eighteen months
had been hell for Francesca. The surgeries and radiation therapy. The loss of her beautiful, fair hair. The days when she was so weak she couldn’t raise a glass to her dry, cracked lips.
It was so gratifying to see her cheerful. Lili’s imaginary sex life, entertainment for cancer survivors everywhere.
