Finish What We Started Page 11

  She groaned. What had her mother gotten her into?

  After Lee brought her back to her parents’ house, she’d told her mother to set her up with someone. Anyone would do. And then she’d had a very long shower to wash away all mixed feelings Lee had brought out. There had been a moment there when she was positive he was going to kiss her and she wasn’t entirely certain she would have stopped him. She’d wanted to talk to him about changing the paint color in the lobby and instead they’d finally said their piece. She’d be lying to herself if she didn’t admit to being grateful for his apology. It had also been cathartic for her, in a childish way, to hear him to admit how devastated he’d been. It was nice to know she hadn’t been alone in her misery.

  “Are you going to open the door or just stand there, honey?” The woman pushed her aside and did the honors. “Armand, so nice to see you.”

  The man entered and embraced her mother. “Cynthia, don’t you look lovely.”

  She waved him past dismissively. “Aren’t you sweet.”

  Candy rolled her eyes. Oh God, Mom was flirting. She let the little tableau play while she checked out her date.

  Armand Ellington was perhaps the prettiest person she had seen since she left her pageant days behind. He had a nice tan that showed off piercing blue eyes, a straight nose and full lips. His facial hair was sculpted within an inch of its life. She stared at the perfectly even lines of his Hollywood beard and wondered if he used a protractor to get the flawless look.

  Her mother gestured with an elegant arm movement like she was all of a sudden Vanna White or something. “Candace, this is Armand. He breeds champion Chinese Cresteds.”

  Armand extended his hand and she noticed his manicured nails. His hands were soft, and she wondered what lotion he used. She had to wash her hands nearly constantly in the clinic, and she struggled with dry, chapped skin.

  “Hello.” She gave him a smile.

  He smiled back, but he was assessing her at the same time. He was taller than her, which was a point in his favor considering that she was five feet ten and she’d had many dates who didn’t measure up. A tailored gray suit hung from a medium build frame. His shoes were well made and just as expensive as the suit. As well dressed as he was, it was his face that was the obvious predicator in her mother pressuring her to go out with him.

  She may not have put as much time into her appearance as he had, but she looked fine. Her heels were only an inch in deference to the possibility that her date might be short. She’d chosen a simple pink A-line skirt that came to just above her knees and a fitted T-shirt. She’d blown dry her hair and tossed on some mascara and lip gloss.

  It seemed like he didn’t think she’d tried very hard. She resisted another eye roll. Okay, she hadn’t tried, but then again she wasn’t really interested in this date. She’d only accepted to get Lee off her mind.

  It wasn’t working.

  Lee was lusty heat and passionate focus. Armand was lukewarm and indifferent.

  Well, it was only dinner.

  “I have reservations at the trendiest new place,” Armand told her. “Your mother said you’ve been out of town, so I thought maybe you hadn’t been there yet.”

  “You’re probably right.” She slipped her arms into a white cardigan with pearl buttons. “I haven’t been out much since I’ve been home.”

  Her mother nodded emphatically. “I told Armand that you’re all work and no play. You need to get out more.” She handed Candace her purse, and spoke to her date. “She’s such a pretty girl. She shouldn’t waste her good looks while she’s young.”

  Candace gave her mother a quelling look that made no difference in how Armand was looking her over again.

  “She is a very pretty girl.” He nodded with approval. “Your mother told me you’d won many beauty contests.”

  Oh my God. Had her mother had to bribe him to take her out? This was mortifying.

  “I don’t do pageants anymore. I’m a veterinarian now.” No one ever seemed to focus on the medical degree. It was always about whether they could see her trophy room, which she was horrified to find that her mother kept up. All the ribbons and obnoxious crowns and tiaras still lined her childhood bedroom. Man, she was going to have to get her own apartment very, very soon.

  Once they were in Armand’s Mercedes, he tried to loosen her up. “So Candy...”

  “Actually, it’s Candace. I hate the shorter version.”

  “Sure. So, Candace...” He nodded in her direction. “Your mother also told me you went to school in Scotland.”

  “Yes, University of Glasgow. It was a fabulous opport—”

  “I went to school here. My family is a big supporter. You know the Ellington Library.” It wasn’t a question. He looked at her in the light from the dash board and nodded, indicating she guessed that it meant his people had endowed the library.

  “That must be weird, going to a library with your name on it.”

  “I’ve gotten used to it. When you grow up in that kind of atmosphere, you understand.”

  Um, ick. Time to change the subject. “What restaurant are we going to?”

  “Infinity Blue. I’ve heard good things about the place. It’s very hot. Have you heard of it?”

  “Yeah! I’ve really been wanting to go there. I know the chef.” She wondered if Mark would remember her.

  “Well, like I said, I made reservations. I had to throw my name around to get them.”

  She couldn’t resist. “Oh, are you famous?”

  He didn’t have a chance to retort before they pulled into the round drive for the valet. The place was jam packed with cars swarming the lot and the crowd spilling out into the street. How awesome that Mark’s place was doing so well. For the first time this evening, she was looking forward to her date.

  “Candy?” One word in that deep voice was all it took to turn her hot and focused. Unfortunately, it wasn’t on her date.

  * * *

  Lee’s plan to avoid thinking about Candy flew right out the window the minute she appeared in the lobby of Infinity Blue. She strolled in with some ridiculous hipster dude who was probably prettier than half the girls Lee’d dated. She, however, looked good enough to eat.

  “Hi,” she said with surprise, and glanced about her at the crowd. “Wow, this place is busy. Good for Mark.”

  “You eating here tonight?” He smacked his forehead with the palm of his hand. What a bonehead thing to say. “Obviously.”

  She smiled and turned to introduce him to the doofus, but he was having a heated discussion with the hostess. “Yeah, I’m here on a date.”

  He raised a brow and nodded. A date. Like a date date? With that guy? He stood a little straighter in order to be taller than the other man. Lee was bigger than him. Besides, it looked like he’d whoop him in a fight because the other guy wouldn’t want to break a nail. Lee jumped when Holly touched his shoulder.

  “Our table’s ready,” she said.

  Before he had a chance to say goodbye to Candy, the pretty man was back and he was fuming. “Our reservation is suddenly missing. I can’t believe it. This doesn’t happen to me. Someone is going to hear about this, let me assure you. I’m never coming back here. Come on—” he grabbed Candace’s arm, “—let’s go.”

  Lee put his hand on prissy boy’s forearm, which caused him to halt the exodus and, fortunately for everyone involved, drop Candace’s arm. “Hold on. You can join our table. There’ll be plenty of room.” He signaled the hostess and flashed a grin. “Hey, Suz, can we squeeze two more chairs at our table?” Lee didn’t usually make crazy demands of the staff at his brother’s restaurant, but there was no way in hell he was letting Candy out of his sight with that overdressed egomaniac. He led them through the crowd to their usual table—a small four-top in an out of the way corner where you could still see
the musicians. Having taught the chef/owner to ride his bike when he was eight came in very handy once in a while.

  Marisol arrived and a round of introductions were made. The jerk’s name was Armand, of all freaking things. What the hell kind of name was Armand? Candy was thrilled to meet Holly and the two of them hit it right off. Lee had known they would. What he didn’t expect was the underlying tension when he introduced Marisol as the owner of Jose the cat. His friend was excited to meet the doctor who’d taken such good care of her animal, but Candy immediately withdrew. He’d never seen her shrink from a conversation, but one look at Marisol and she clammed up.

  During appetizers, Armand regaled Marisol and Holly with his outrage over the hostess not having his reservation. Holly apparently didn’t divulge that she was married to the owner, which was brilliant as far as Lee was concerned.

  “So what do you do?” Holly asked Armand.

  The man smiled, obviously happy to move the conversation to something he enjoyed discussing. Lee nearly lost consciousness as the man lectured them on some sort of pansy-ass dog.

  “Are you talking about a Xoloitzcuintle?” Marisol asked, her Mexican accent rolling over a native word.

  Armand gave her a condescending smile. Lee couldn’t wait until Marisol flayed him right here at the table.

  Armand took a sip of his wine. “No, honey, although both breeds are very popular in Mexico. A Chinese Crested is a much more elegant dog. The Mexican Hairless is, well, not very attractive.”

  Oh, here we go. Lee drained his beer and signaled for another round. Alcohol was only going to make this little dust up more entertaining.

  Marisol raised an eyebrow. “I beg your pardon. My madre’s was a very cute doggy.”

  “Yes, well, I’m sure she thought so.” Armand rolled his eyes.

  Holly clamped her hand on top of Marisol’s, effectively curbing an assault. Damn.

  Lee wasn’t giving up so easily. “So what does a Chinese Crested look like?”

  The guy pulled out his phone and pulled up about seventy-five thousand pictures of his dogs. “This beauty here is Fanciful Miss Flora and her breeding stud Waldo the Winsome Wonder.”

  Lee started to laugh but shoved some bread in his mouth to smother it. The bizarre photo stream continued with commentary.

  He poked Holly in the ribs. “Hey, he has a bald dog, too.” Lee waggled his eyebrows at his sister-in-law.

  Candy smacked his arm. “Milo is her dog? I never said her dog was going bald.” She directed her attention to Holly. “I never told him that.”

  Holly rolled her eyes and ignored Lee. “My Milo is a Yorkie.”

  Armand continued gamely on, oblivious to Lee’s chortling. “I’m planning to breed the bitch again when she comes into season—”

  Lee choked on his bread and everyone at the table turned their attention to him. Holly and Candy both whacked him on the back. He was never going to be mature enough to not laugh when someone referred to a dog as a bitch.

  Eventually dinner arrived and while Lee managed to contain himself it seemed like Armand did his absolute best to be as pretentious as possible. He insisted on making the wine decision for the table and, since Lee didn’t know jack squat about wine, he didn’t care. He stuck with his craft beer.

  Armand prattled on about bullshit no one cared about. Holly was too polite to say anything about it. Lee and Marisol exchanged amused glances, and at one point she kicked him under the table. Candy was suspiciously mum. Even if she’d wanted to contribute to the conversation, Armand never stopped talking long enough for her to interject an opinion.

  To spice things up, Lee brought up the Rockets’ second baseman again without giving any context to the bizarre topic change. Marisol glared at him, which piqued Holly’s interest, but Lee didn’t tell his friend’s secret. Armand opined that he didn’t like sports and thought them to be gladiator-style contests that induced sweating and baser human instincts. That was a direct quote. That pretty much put Marisol off for the rest of the evening. Candy had no opinion one way or the other about any second baseman, or any basemen in particular, although she did agree that sweaty sports did make for excellent athletic bodies. Lee took that opportunity to mention that his league team was doing well that season.

  It was stupid, but he felt the need to remind Candy that he had an athletic body. A vision of her straddling him flashed across his memory and he had to look away. God, he was so lame.

  They had the Drunken Cupcakes for dessert because they were everyone’s favorite.

  Candy didn’t seem to pay him any attention at all.

  * * *

  Candace refolded the napkin on her lap for the thousandth time. Just let the nightmare be over.

  Armand was a complete ass but that wasn’t the worst part. Lee’s girlfriend was absolutely, breathtakingly, make-you-sick-to-your-stomach gorgeous. And a sportswriter. Could he have found a more perfect woman? It wasn’t like she’d expected he would never have another girlfriend. She just hadn’t thought she’d care so much when he did. That had clearly been a stupid, short-sighted thought on her part. After all, they hadn’t broken up because they didn’t love each other, no matter what he’d said at the time.

  You don’t love him now either.

  That was true—she didn’t—but it didn’t explain the awful tension she seemed to be the only one experiencing. She ate her salmon and tried not to make it obvious she was jealous and miserable and childish.

  Why did his choice of girlfriend matter? She thought back to their last fight and tried to recall the venom in Lee’s voice as he’d said hateful things to her. Unfortunately a vision of how thoughtful he’d been to design her surgery around her left-handedness intervened, and how he still remembered her coffee order.

  During Armand’s lecture on what modern art exhibits he thought were worthy of seeing—of course, they weren’t the ones Holly had just seen—Candace excused herself to the bathroom. She couldn’t take sitting squeezed in next to Lee anymore. She still couldn’t figure out how the seating arrangements had managed to work out that way, but it was damned uncomfortable. She sure as hell didn’t want to snuggle with her date, but when she shifted to avoid touching him, she came in contact with Lee’s thigh and shoulder. She kept alternating between turned-on and embarrassed, then cranky and miserable.

  Enough.

  She stood. “Excuse me, please.”

  Lee, being the gentleman that he was, stood and gave her some room. Armand leaned to the left, but didn’t stop his discourse on photorealism. She took the opportunity to whack him on the back of his head with her purse.

  “Oops!” She used her pageant smile. “So sorry about that.”

  Holly jumped up on Armand’s left. “I’ll join you. Mari, are you coming?”

  Candace willed the superwoman to decline. Say no, say no, say no. Thank God, it worked and Marisol stayed in her seat on the opposite side of Lee.

  Holly linked their arms and they turned toward the restroom. The lady practically knew everyone in the restaurant, so making it to the bathroom was slow going, but Candace didn’t care. The longer she was away from the table, the better.

  The bathroom was as chic as the rest of the restaurant with deep blue walls and a polished chrome counter with cobalt blue sinks. There was a sitting area to one side of the large room. Holly flung herself on an upholstered sofa, her cute retro dress floofing around her.

  “So...” Holly let the word dangle there.

  “I know what you’re thinking.” Candace laid her purse on the coffee table and entered a stall. She might as well go while she was in here. She talked over the partition. “It’s our first date—a blind one—and it’ll be our last. In fact, I may smack my mother when I get home. She’s the one who set us up.”

  “Doesn’t your mother love you?”

 
She laughed as she exited, then washed her hands.

  “Tell me you hit him with your purse on purpose.”

  Grinning in the mirror, she nodded. “I couldn’t resist.”

  “It was delicious. I highly approve.” Holly sat up straighter and her face took on a serious expression. “So what’s the deal with you and Lee?”

  She paused in the middle of drying her hands. “Nothing.”

  Holly cocked her head. “Ah. Okay. Never mind. I thought I sensed something there.”

  “You sorta did, but we’re old news. We went out about five years ago but we broke up when I moved to Europe for school.”

  Holly stood up and dropped her jaw simultaneously. “Oh my God, you’re that old girlfriend. I didn’t realize. I mean, I didn’t put it all together before.”

  What the hell did that mean? She raised her eyebrows in question.

  “No.” Holly gave her an apologetic smile and touched her arm. “It’s not bad, it’s just I’ve always wondered about you. I mean, holy shit, have you seen the house he built for you?”

  For me? “Um, I don’t think that’s accurate at all.”

  Another woman entered the bathroom, so Holly pulled her further back into the sitting area. “So you’ve seen it? The house, I mean?”

  “Yeah, it’s...big.”

  Holly chortled. “He won’t talk about it, of course, but Mark lived with him for a while so...Mark said Lee was wrecked for a long time. Drank too much for a while. Mark actually started to worry, but then Lee began the house and, well, Mark said all his attention and anger seemed to focus there which was better than torturing himself. Wow, I can’t believe you’re back.”

  Candy didn’t know what to make of all this new information. Besides, he’d clearly moved on. Regardless, she had an extensive five-year plan, Lee Bennett was nowhere in it. No men were in it, but especially not him.

  “All I’m saying is—” Holly held the ladies’ room door open for her, “—I hope things work out better for you guys this time around, because that mansion of his is already big enough.”