“I’m offering you everything . . .” She gestured from her cleavage on downward. “And you’re turning me down?” she asked, her voice rising. “Oh my God, you must be gay.”
He blinked in shock. “I’m not gay.” Although gay was preferable to her. “I’m just not interested that way. You’re a nice woman and I’m sure there’s someone out there who can make you very happy. It’s just not me.”
“Screw happy. I have everything I want except sex with a hot guy. What’s wrong with you that you don’t want to give me that?”
Sam stared at her, recognizing that she had more than one screw loose. “Like I said, I’m sure there’s someone out there for you.”
“I’ve always wanted you,” she said, composing herself again.
And clearly she wasn’t used to not getting what she wanted. So when he’d agreed to this date, she’d assumed they could be together. “But I don’t want you,” he said, deciding her persistence called for extreme measures.
She narrowed her gaze.
“I’m sorry,” he felt compelled to say again.
“Fine. I’m sure Rob Burnett will be interested since you aren’t.”
Sam couldn’t think of a better fit than Margie and Rob, the player. He remained silent, and with a huff of annoyance she flung open the car door, not waiting for him to get out or even react, and flounced—there wasn’t a better word for her gait—down the driveway and around back to her private entrance.
Sam shook his head and pulled out of the driveway, glad to have this night over and Margie Stinson out of his life so he could move on to what mattered.
Just the thought of Nicole, looking so damn beautiful in that blue dress that draped her curves, had all thoughts of any other women evaporating as if they’d never existed for him at all.
Four
The morning after the gala, Nicole walked into The Family Restaurant for breakfast. She asked for Macy, only to be told her friend wasn’t working this morning, so she settled into a booth and ordered an egg-white omelet and a cup of coffee. A few minutes later, a woman who looked to be in her midsixties made herself at home in the seat across from Nicole.
“Hello,” Nicole said, not recognizing the older strawberry blonde with teased hair and wrists covered with bracelets.
“Hi yourself.” The woman set her arms on the table and stared at Nicole.
And continued to stare until Nicole became uncomfortable. “Can I help you?”
“Get off my turf.”
Nicole blinked. “Excuse me?”
“You’re a baker?”
Nicole nodded warily.
“Then what I said stands. Leave and nobody will get hurt.” The other woman slapped her hand on the table for emphasis, revealing extra-long, fluorescent orange nails.
Nicole didn’t know what to make of this crazy lady. “Look, I don’t know who you are, but I’m new in town. I don’t know you. I don’t even own a business—”
“So let’s keep it that way,” she said, pinning Nicole with a heated stare.
Nicole grabbed for her purse, tempted to run and to get far away from this lunatic, but ultimately decided to stand her ground.
“Hello, ladies.” Macy’s familiar voice was a welcome interruption.
Nicole looked up at her new friend. “This . . . this crazy woman was threatening me.”
Macy frowned and plopped herself onto the cushioned bench next to the insane woman and forcibly shoved her farther into the seat to give herself more room. “Aunt Lulu, I warned you to behave. I told you Nicole was a friend and that you two would have a lot in common.”
“This is your aunt?” Nicole pointed to the woman, who was now grinning at her.
“Yes, and you two have so much in common, I just know you’ll get along. Like I told you last night, Aunt Lulu bakes pies and cakes, while Nicole said she bakes specialty items, like cupcakes, cookies, and pastries. Aunt Lulu, weren’t you talking about opening up your own bake shop?”