Midnight Promises. Sherryl WoodsЧитать онлайн книгу.
had her blood stirring. “A date night, huh? Does that mean we get to park and make out before I take you home?”
She grinned at him. “Depends on how good this date is,” she said. “Do you still remember how to woo me?”
He winked. “I’ll definitely give it my best shot, especially with that payoff you hinted could be mine.” He reached for her hand, brought it to his lips even as he kept his eyes squarely on the road. After the kiss, he rested her hand on his thigh, covered by his hand. She felt the involuntary bunching of his muscle, the heat of his skin. It made her feel not only very feminine but powerful, knowing the effect she had on him.
After Elliott pulled into a parking space and cut the engine, he turned to her. His expression stern, he said, “Remember, no trying to figure out the secret ingredients or trying to sneak a peek into the kitchen. This is a date, not an undercover op to check out the competition.”
Karen chuckled. “I figured out all of Rosalina’s secret ingredients years ago. I don’t do any culinary spying here. I can just relax and enjoy my meal.”
“Ah, so it’s only in the restaurants in Charleston and Columbia I have to worry about what you’re up to when you claim to be going to the restroom,” he teased. “And whether you’re more interested in the food than in me.”
“I will always be more interested in you than anything,” she assured him, then added thoughtfully, “Unless somebody happens to have the perfect chocolate soufflé on the menu. I’d love to get a handle on that one.”
“Don’t let Erik ever hear you suggest that his isn’t perfect,” Elliott warned. “The man’s pastry skills are supposedly legendary, at least around South Carolina.”
“Pies, cakes, cobblers, I’ll give him all of those,” Karen said. “But making a soufflé is an art. And if you’ll think about it, Sullivan’s doesn’t have it on the menu, not ever. It’s because Erik knows his isn’t perfection. I’d love to surpass his skill at just one thing someday.”
“Google it,” Elliott suggested. “Find the finest chocolate soufflé maker in the state, and I’ll take you there.”
She regarded him with amazement. “You would, wouldn’t you?”
“If it would make you happy, anything,” he said. “Don’t you know that by now?”
She smiled. Mostly she did, but it didn’t hurt being reminded of it every now and then.
* * *
Date night was a huge success all around. Karen felt revived after an entire evening with her husband with no crises. The kids pleaded with Frances to spend the night, so Karen found her a nightgown and settled her into the guest room. Frances promised to make them all French toast for breakfast, before sending everyone off on their busy days.
When Karen crawled out of bed in the morning, she found Frances in the kitchen, already dressed. She’d gathered the ingredients for French toast, something she’d made as a regular treat for the kids when they’d lived next door. Now, though, she was just standing there regarding everything with a vaguely perplexed expression.
“Frances?” Karen said softly, trying not to startle her. “Is everything okay?”
Frances jumped slightly, her expression filled with dismay. “Oh, my goodness, dear, you scared me. I didn’t hear you come in.”
Karen gave her a hug. “You looked a little distracted.”
“I suppose my mind wandered there for a minute. I’m perfectly fine.”
Though her words were reassuring, something still felt wrong to Karen. Trying to act casual, she slipped past her and started the coffee, then asked, “How about some help? I could whisk the eggs, cinnamon and milk together for you.”
Her offer seemed to trigger something for Frances. “Absolutely not,” she said briskly. “I’ve been making French toast for years. I can handle it.”
But despite her confident words, she seemed to hesitate as she went to work, her movements deliberate as if she was giving extra thought to what she was doing.
In the end, the French toast was perfect, and the kids gobbled it up with noisy exuberance. Elliott, who normally stuck to healthy egg whites or a high-fiber cereal in the morning, ate his share of the breakfast treat, as well.
As soon as the dishes were in the dishwasher, he offered to drop the kids at school. “Frances, why don’t I drop you off, too?”
“I’ll take her,” Karen said, wanting a little more time to see if she could pin down why things seemed so off with Frances on this visit. “I need my fair share of Frances’s attention before we let her get back to her normal routine.” She looked at her friend. “Is that okay? Are you in a rush? I’ll be ready in a half hour.”
“Actually I think I’d better go with Elliott,” Frances said, avoiding Karen’s gaze. “I have things to do this morning.”
Karen saw the lie for exactly what it was, an excuse to evade Karen’s questions.
“Sure, if that works better for you,” she told the older woman. “Next time maybe you can stay with us for the weekend. We’d all love that, wouldn’t we, Daisy and Mack?”
The enthusiastic chorus of responses from the kids brought a smile to Frances’s lips. “Then that’s exactly what we’ll do,” she said readily. “Mack, you can teach me how to play that video game you were telling me about. And, Daisy, I’m going to want to hear all about the father-daughter dance you’re going to with Elliott.”
Elliott urged them all to the door, then cast a last curious look back at Karen. “Everything okay?” he murmured.
“I’m honestly not sure,” she said, not even trying to hide her frustration. “You’d better go, though. We’ll talk about it later.”
He kissed her, his lips lingering against hers. “Great date,” he murmured against her mouth, a wicked sparkle in his eyes.
“Coming home was even better,” she replied, thinking of how tenderly he’d made love to her before they’d fallen asleep wrapped in each other’s arms.
He grinned. “Yeah, it was.” He cupped her chin in his hand, held her gaze until heat stirred. “I’ll call Adelia today about the dresses, or would you rather do it?”
She gave him a wry look. “Asking your sister for a favor? We’re not quite there yet. She still hates me.”
“She doesn’t hate you,” he protested. “She’s just overly protective of me. I’ll call.”
Just then, someone in the car hit the horn to urge him to hurry. Elliott chuckled.
“I’d better go before one of the kids decides they’re old enough to take the car for a spin.”
“Not to worry. Frances would never allow them to get away with that,” Karen said, but even as she spoke the words, she wondered if they were true. She’d seen signs that Frances was changing, and, though she had no idea just what those signs might mean, she suspected it couldn’t be anything good.
* * *
Elliott called his older sister at midmorning during a break between his spinning class and his jazzercise class. She answered the phone with the same harried, impatient tone she’d had at his mother’s a few days earlier.
“Things sound less than cheerful at the Hernandez casa this morning,” he said lightly. “What’s going on, Adelia?”
“Nothing,” she said, her tone clipped. “Why are you calling?”
“Actually I need a favor,” he said, “for Daisy.”
“Of course,” she said at once. Though she might not have totally welcomed Karen into the family, she had opened