Nothing In Common Read online

  "Too spicy, Emma. You know what I’ve said in the past about spicy sauce."

  "Ah, c’mon, boss." Emma threw up her hands. "Don’t you know spice is the variety of life? Or something like that anyway."

  Tom sighed, but smiled at Emma. "Do you do this just to get on Michel’s nerves or mine?"

  Emma squeezed him around the waist affectionately. The top of her head barely reached his shoulders. "Both. It’s my mission in life to keep you men on your toes. Besides, adding more sugar would ruin that sauce. How can you put a sweet tomato sauce over my homemade gnocchi? It’d be a sin. A culinary sin."

  "Just remember, Emma, you’re the sous-chef. Michel is your boss."

  "I can get around that," Emma retorted saucily.

  "I bet you can."

  With just a smile, Emma could have Michel not knowing whether he was slicing or dicing. Tom had seen it more than once. Though they’d never so much as gone on a date, Emma was clearly certain of the chef’s romantic inclinations toward her. It was equally obvious to any who knew them that Michel would never admit to such an attraction.

  "Boss?

  "Hmmm?" Tom turned back to the specials list.

  Thursday nights were Italian night at The Foxfire, with several pasta dishes in addition to Emma’s gnocchi featured. Completely involved with perusing the menu, Tom didn’t notice Emma’s silence until he turned to find her staring at him, bemusement clear upon her freckled face.

  "Who is she?" Emma’s merry green eyes glinted knowingly.

  "Who is who?"

  "The bit of fluff who’s got you so riled. I could tell something’s been on your mind all day. All week, too. You haven’t been out of the house except to come to work, and I’ve actually been able to make a phone call or two. Was it that busty blonde who likes to ride horses? Or the skinny chick who always smelled like gardenias?" She paused, as though a horrible thought had just come to her. "Please don’t tell me it’s Wendi."

  Tom set his jaw. "You know better than that."

  Emma sniffed. "Thank God. So who was it?"

  Tom shook his head. Emma knew way too much about his social life. He supposed that was the problem when you not only hired your niece as sous-chef in your restaurant, but let her live in your house, too.

  "It doesn’t matter, Emma. She wasn’t interested in me."

  Emma stepped back, looking impressed. "Was she blind? I mean, look at you! Every woman who walks in here wants to be on you like butter on a cob of corn!"

  "Thanks, Em," Tom replied dryly.

  "She really didn’t go for you, huh?" Emma appeared sympathetic. "That’s a first."

  Her casual assessment of his love life suddenly annoyed him. "You make me sound like some kind of Don Juan."

  "And you’re not?" She raised her eyebrows at him and looked so much like his older sister he might have laughed…had he not been in such a bad mood.

  He scowled instead, showing her his back. "No, I’m not. Dating a lot of woman just means I haven’t been lucky enough to find the right one yet, that’s all."

  "Sorry." Emma paused. "I was trying to make you feel better, not worse."

  Tom forced a smile on his face for the effervescent young chef. It wasn’t her fault Lila Lazin had rejected him. Nor was it Emma’s fault he couldn’t get Lila out of his mind.

  "Thanks, Emma. But I’m fine."

  Emma patted his shoulder kindly. "If you say so. If you say so."

  * * *

  Why was everyone so crazed by five o’clock? It made Lila sullen. She lost her parking spot to a pair of middle-aged women driving a Mercedes. She’d had to fight traffic all the way from her office, and now the parking lot was a zoo. Lila swung around the lot again, finally parking so far away from the mall she practically needed binoculars to find the building.

  She had some time to kill before the meeting at Rivka’s gallery and there was no sense in running all the way home. She’d hit the bookstore. Stephen King’s latest novel had just been released, and Lila was aching to get her hands on a copy. She was a manic King fan, devouring his books in hours.

  So intent was she on cutting through the crowd toward the bookstore, Lila nearly tripped over a parcel someone had carelessly left on the floor. Biting her tongue as the pain in her toe moved her to curse, Lila stepped back and focused her attention on the package’s owner. The petite, platinum blonde glared at her with barely veiled distaste and cradled her violated parcel like it was a wounded child.

  "Hello, Lila," the man with the blonde said, his voice so cool it made Lila’s arms perk with goosebumps.

  "William." She sounded stiff. Her stomach twisted. He looked as handsome as ever, his sandy hair perfectly styled and his fit body perfectly clothed. He still looked as though he could have stepped off the cover of GQ.

  "Haven’t seen you for a while, Lils." William seemed oblivious to the fact his every word was a sword in her side. He’d even called her Lils, which he knew she hated.

  "Well, you wouldn’t have, would you?" Lila was glad to hear that, while William’s appearance might be tearing up her insides, her voice remained steady.

  William laughed, a completely insincere booming sound. "This is my wife, Pansy." He tugged forward the petite blonde, who stared at Lila as though she had just vomited on Pansy’s elegant suede boots. "Pansy, this is Lila Lazin."

  "Charmed." Pansy briefly touched Lila’s fingers with her own.

  "Congratulations," Lila managed to say.

  "Thanks." William patted her arm. "You ought to think about tanning. You look like death warmed over."

  Then he was gone, taking Pansy with him. Heedless of the crowd surging around her, Lila stared after them until finally someone bumped into her. Realizing she was making a spectacle of herself, Lila sank down onto the nearby bench and forced her hands to stop shaking. The pain had bloomed again with vicious brilliance.

  "You’re a nice girl," William had said to her—the memory as clear as spring water. He had taken her to dinner at their favorite restaurant. She had thought he was going to propose. Instead, he had broken her heart. "Nice, but not quite enough for me. I need someone a lot…prettier."

  Lila had nearly choked on her dinner roll. William’s nightmarish words echoed in her head like discordant church bells. "We’ve been together nearly a year, William. You only decided this now?"

  William had smiled, though the expression didn’t reach his brown eyes. "It was a kick at first, you know. To see what it would be like to be average. After a while, I just figured I was doing you a favor. I’m tired of doing you a favor."

  Incredibly, he had wanted to finish the meal. He had not understood why Lila had left the table, or why she had refused to allow him to drive her home. "After all," he had told her, "it’s not like you ought to have believed me when I told you I loved you.

  "That’s just what people say," he had said. "My God, Lila, don’t tell me you were foolish enough to think a man like me could ever love someone like you."

  William had left her shivering in the winter wind outside that restaurant. He hadn’t even given her money for cab fare. Lila had walked home. She tossed her pretty shoes in the gutter when one heel broke, and shredded her stockings on the gravel. Her feet had healed, but her heart had not.

  Lila sat on the bench for a long time and watched the ebb and flow of evening shoppers pass her by. She didn’t want to hurt this much over something as sad and simple as running into an old lover, yet she did. Finally, she forced herself off the bench and headed again toward the bookstore. Not even the heavy novel could lift her spirits.

  Thoroughly depressed, she headed over to the new gallery, pausing to put a smile on her face before she went inside. She didn’t want to ruin her sister’s joy at the new project. The gallery looked gorgeous. Even missing the few final touches that would make it complete, Lila couldn’t help being impressed by the building’s exquisitely designed interior. Rivka’s influence, of course. It was visible in everything from the tiled entryway to the whims