Just One Taste...(15)

Vanessa couldn't listen to any more and rushed into the kitchen, the  silver serving tray still miraculously clutched in her bloodless hands.

As she set it on the counter, the accusations and speculations spun  through her head all over again. It wasn't possible. Lucas wasn't the  man they described.

But his vagueness about his past had doubt intruding. I practiced in New  Orleans, but I'm not from there. So where was he from? And why hadn't  she pressed him for details? Why hadn't she asked more questions?

Mia burst into the kitchen just as shame and regret were taking hold of  Vanessa. "Don't listen to those assholes for a second." She grabbed  Vanessa's arm and spun her around. "They're exaggerating. Or going by  rumor. Or downright lying out of jealousy."

"Ambulance chaser?" Vanessa whispered, horrified and embarrassed she  still had enough Douglas upbringing in her to be so judgmental. Had his  beautiful apartment been bought with other people's pain and suffering?

Mia squeezed her arm. "Don't do this to yourself. We'll get through dessert, then you'll call him. Talk it out."

"This is why I stay away from guys who move with this crowd."

"I know." Mia stroked her back. "Oh, honey, I know. But you can't let them make you doubt your instincts. You know him."

Vanessa shook her head. "I don't."

"Stop it. Think about what they said-everything from certainly not Ivy  League to the best case-win record in Louisiana. The truth could be  anywhere in between, or nowhere close at all."

Some of Mia's urgency finally broke thought. "Someone said he was cold. He's not cold."

Mia looked relieved. "Exactly."

"How dare they spread rumors and talk about him like he wasn't fit for their company?"

"Because they're jerks."

Though her stomach still trembled, Vanessa sighed. "Yes, they are."

"Let's serve dessert."

"And get the hell out of here."

Of course that plan was way too hopeful and simple. Vanessa did manage  to help serve the double-chocolate cheesecake and stuff her personal  problems, but as she was carrying dirty dishes back to the kitchen, her  sister followed her.

"I need to talk to you," Angelica said, her face pinched with worry.

Did she know? How could she have found out already? Would Vanessa be  forced to choose between Lucas and the possibility of peace with her  family? She ached to defend Lucas, but she didn't want to completely  alienate her family.

"Angelica, I really don't-"

"Mother is driving me crazy."

Vanessa stared at her. "She is?"

Her sister collapsed onto a kitchen chair. "She calls me into her office  every afternoon-at precisely four-thirty-and goes through everything  I've done wrong that day. She critiques my clothes, my conversations, my  correspondence, even my e-mails. It's driving me crazy. I'm jumpy and  snappy, which only makes my correspondence and conversations go  downhill." She rolled her eyes as she paused. "Listen to me. I swear I'm  turning into a parrot. Correspondence and conversations. Who talks like  that anymore? Phone calls and e-mails. Just once I'd like to correct  her!"

Breathing hard at the end of this tirade, her eyes filled and her lower  lip trembled. Since Vanessa recognized the signs of regret after  rebellion, she pulled her sister into her arms while she cried.

"What's going-"

Vanessa waved her brother-in-law out of the kitchen. She glared when he didn't move.

Finally, he backed out.

A combination of kinship and guilt flooded Vanessa as she held her baby  sister. In many ways, her leaving had doubled the pressure for Angelica.  Not that she was solely responsible for her sister's choices, but the  responsibilities and demands Vanessa had run from, Angelica had had to  shoulder.                       
       
           



       

But Vanessa had assumed her sister relished her parents' undivided  attention. She'd seemed eager to step into Vanessa's role. She was as  natural as a dignified debutante.

She just needed to do things her way, not their Mother's.

Maybe Vanessa and Angelica's mutual need to make their own way would  strengthen their relationship. Other than Angelica's matchmaking,  Vanessa and her sister rarely shared meaningful conversations. They  didn't share the same taste in clothes, shoes, makeup or hairstyles.  They couldn't eat together peacefully, since Angelica was always on a  strict diet. They didn't exercise together-Angelica liked yoga; Vanessa  liked kickboxing. They didn't like the same books-self-help nonfiction  versus romance, erotica and thrillers.

"Why don't you-"

"I shouldn't have bothered you with this," Angelica said suddenly, stepping back.

"It's fine. I'm glad you came to me."

Angelica snatched a napkin off the counter and patted her eyes. "No, I shouldn't have bothered you. I'll be fine."

"Angel, I'm always here for-"

She shook her head and backed away. Her face was red with embarrassment. "Please don't mention this to anybody."

"I wouldn't do that."

Her sister said nothing, just rushed from the room.

Then again, maybe understanding was further away than she thought.

"They're all leaving," Mia said as she bustled into the kitchen a few  moments later, her arms laden with more dirty dishes. "Let's finish up  and blow out of this lame-o joint."

"You're on, girl."

By the time they'd pocketed Rex's tip and loaded their van an hour  later, Vanessa was drained physically and emotionally. She wanted to  talk to Lucas. She wanted to avoid him. She wanted to sleep. She didn't  see how she'd ever close her eyes.

As she slipped from the van at the bakery's rear door, however, the  decision was ripped from her hands when Lucas emerged from a sleek,  black Mercedes.

He'd found her.

He was dressed in black pants and an oatmeal-colored shirt. His dark  hair was swept off his striking face. He moved with lithe grace, his  shoulders wide, his waist narrow, his legs long.

Her heart, quite simply, fluttered.

"You ladies look like you could use some help," he said as he approached.

Was she happy he'd been so persistent, or apprehensive about facing him  with the truth, about facing real life and not just the fantasy they'd  enjoyed?

When Vanessa stared mutely at him-call it stunned lust-Mia said, "Thank God for men. Are those biceps as strong as they look?"

Lucas grinned, and all the breath left Vanessa's body. Okay, there was  definitely no talking now. She remembered him carrying her to his  bedroom. She recalled him bracing his body on his forearms as he hovered  above her, moving in and out of her with exquisite, torturous pleasure.

"I think I can manage whatever you give me," he said, sending Vanessa a quick, heated glance.

They loaded up their arms with boxes and soon had the van unloaded and the supplies stored in the bakery's back room.

It was ten-thirty, and Vanessa had known Lucas for twenty-four  hours-long enough to realize she knew next-to-nothing about him. Yet  somehow she suspected that wouldn't stop her from jumping him again if  given half the chance.



IN AN EFFORT TO KEEP his hands off Vanessa, Lucas wrapped them around his coffee mug. "Where were you catering tonight?"

She moved things around on the counter. Nervously, he thought. "A party for a pharmaceutical rep."

"It was a rousing success, as always," Mia said as she settled on the  stool next to him at the long island that dominated the center of the  room. "Lobster and shrimp. And Vanessa made these fantastic  basil-and-crabmeat-topped cucumber appetizers. Yum."

Though he'd like to talk to Vanessa alone, he was somewhat grateful for  her talkative roommate at the moment. Vanessa's eyes were unfocused, her  hands shaky. Regret and worry dominated her expression.

Something was up.

"Where did you two meet?" he asked, hoping to put Vanessa at ease.                       
       
           



       

"Culinary school," Mia said. "She was brilliant. I was a disaster."

"You were not," Vanessa said, turning to face them.

"I was." Mia grinned proudly. "But I have other talents."

Lucas smiled over the rim of his mug. The two women made an intriguing  pair. He'd seen a bold, confident side of Vanessa the night before.  Tonight, he was seeing a more serious, reflective side. He could imagine  fiery Mia helping her keep perspective with both extremes.

"Care to share?" he asked.

Mia laughed and patted his arm. "You, my good man, are what us Southern ladies used to call a rogue."

"I think that's a compliment."

"It most definitely is." Mia cast a glance at Vanessa. "I can see why you fell so quickly for this one."

Vanessa's mug hit the island with a thud. "Gosh, Mia, you must be exhausted. Why don't you go on to bed? I'll finish up here."