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“More or less. It’s not my fault that he keeps sending flowers.”
Sabrina flipped a hand. “Jason has no imagination. He wants you back because you’re easy.”
“Ah, no, I think that would be you.” One side of Mackenzie’s mouth curled into a dimple as she twisted off the cap of her water.
“Touché. But you know I meant easy as in comfortable.” Sabrina moved restlessly in her chair, flinging one arm over the molded bird’s-eye maple backrest and tossing her hair over the other shoulder. “I’m not easy any longer, you know. And, man, is it killing me.”
Mackenzie was busy looking around the restaurant. Decadence was as polished and chic as Dominique Para herself, filled with a striking combination of mid-century design and trendy art-house accessories. Partial walls made of woven maple planks separated certain areas for privacy. Sculptural sheet-glass mobiles doubled as lighting. Swivel chairs in purple and acid-green, paired with steel ashtray pedestals from the ’50s, made the wait in the lounge for a table more of a pleasure than a bother. At first, Sabrina hadn’t been sure that she fit in at Decadence with a wardrobe that was primarily made up of jeans, sweats, tanks and bandannas, but Dominique had passed along a selection of designer dresses that were so perfectly simple and well-fitted they had to be couture.
Mackenzie returned her attention to her sister. “I thought the restaurant would be keeping you so busy you wouldn’t have time to think about men.”
“That would be the goal,” Sabrina said, “except I haven’t told you about Kit Rex yet.”
“Kit Rex? Isn’t he a rock star?”
“Not Kid Rock,” Sabrina started to explain, before she saw that Mackenzie was teasing.
“Super. There would have to be a man in the picture.” Mackenzie affected a put-upon sigh. “Okay. How bad do you have it?”
Sabrina fanned her face. “Very, very bad.”
Mackenzie didn’t speak for a long minute. Sabrina could see the cogs grinding beneath the mass of pinned-up hair. Her sister had a solution for every problem, if she was given enough time to think it over.
Mackenzie’s eyes slitted. Sabrina shifted under the scrutiny, examining her manicure, then flicking a dot of chocolate filling off the front of her hand-me-down dress. It was lilac, sleeveless, A-line—very Jackie O.
Finally Mackenzie lifted a finger. “Chocolate,” she announced.
“Chocolate? Chocolate is what’s getting me into this predicament.”
“I don’t understand.”
Sabrina leaned over the table, lowering her voice. “Kit is our head pastry chef. He specializes in chocolate desserts. Several times a day, I’m drawn into the kitchen by the force of his sheer animal magnetism to watch him work. He’s…well…he’s charming on the surface, but kind of quiet and deep underneath. He’s got major sex appeal without trying at all. I’m having fantasies about tying him up in apron strings and drizzling chocolate over his naked chest.” Sabrina stopped and sucked in a breath to steady herself. “So trust me, chocolate is not the answer.”
Mackenzie snapped her mouth shut. “Wow.” She glanced around the restaurant, probably looking for Kit. “I haven’t seen you this worked up in a long time.”
Sabrina had the answer to that. Normally she wasn’t overly introspective, but she’d had nothing to do for the past seven sleepless nights except think. “That’s because I usually satisfy my cravings as they come. I’ve never had to do this denial thing before. Turns out my willpower is flabby from lack of use.” She put her chin in her hand, ruing the day they’d made the bet. If the ring wasn’t at stake, and if she didn’t have this odd emotional attachment to it despite her negativity toward marriage…
“But you haven’t given in,” Mackenzie said with some doubt.
“Not yet. Hell, I’m not even sure that Kit is interested.”
Mackenzie laughed. “Right. Like I believe that.”
“Why wouldn’t you?”
“Has there ever been a guy who didn’t want you? You’re the average American male’s dream girl. Tall, pretty, long legs, blond hair…”
“But no va-va-voom.” Sabrina motioned to her small breasts. “Maybe Kit is a boob man.”
Mackenzie giggled. “They’re all boob men. Fortunately, a woman needs only a pair of boobs to satisfy that requirement. Any size will do.”
“Doesn’t matter. Kit doesn’t seem like a T&A hound. Or if he is, he’s subtle about it.”
“Gay?”
“No way.” Half the chefs were, but not Kit.
“Maybe he senses your determination to remain celibate and he respects the decision.”
“Yeah, but the thing is…I’m not that determined.”
“You promised, Breen.”
“Don’t pull that Breen stuff. You got me at Mom and Dad’s wedding while I was momentarily overcome by sentiment. It’s not going to work again.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Mackenzie said in her placid, content way. “The deal’s still in force.”
“Yeah, but—”
“No buts.”
“You haven’t met Kit. He’s a very big but.” Sabrina held up a hand. “Don’t laugh. As long as your hair hasn’t been cut—”
“Next week—no, tomorrow. I’ll get it cut tomorrow.”
“—I’m within my rights to renege. If Kit so much as wiggles a finger at me, I’m going to be naked and climbing all over him while the dishwashers applaud.”
“Good.” Mackenzie grinned. “I’ve always dreamed of getting grandmother’s ring.”
“Not so fast. I may be weak, but I’m still holding out.” Sabrina crossed her fingers beneath her chin in hopes that she could continue.
“Only another ten months or so to go,” Mackenzie said airily. “Remember, you have to last until Mom and Dad’s first anniversary.”
“You mean their second first anniversary.” Sabrina snorted. “Of course, you’re going to lose long before that if you don’t get your hair cut and send Mr. Dull to Decadence to meet Charmaine.”
Mackenzie hooted. “Wait a minute! What’s that about Charmaine?”
“Jason’s just her type. After she loosens his tie and gets him into a pair of leather pants, he’ll never bother you again. Unless you’d rather keep him than win the bet?”
“Sure, let Charmaine at him.” Mackenzie gave a careless wave. “You overplayed your hand. He was never my dream man.”
Sabrina’s thoughts immediately veered to Kit. She squirmed. “Oh, God, what have I done? I’ll never hold out for another month, let alone ten of them. I’m not sure I can do another day.”
Mackenzie cocked her head. Her lips had compressed into a smug little smile. “You can if we dose you up with chocolate.”
Sabrina was baffled. “All the better. I’ll apply the chocolate and he can lick it off me.”
“You miss my point. The chocolate will be a substitute for sex.”
Sabrina gaped, but before she could question the preposterous statement, she caught a glimpse of Kit, crossing the dining room. He carried two plates.
“Welcome to my torture,” she whispered to Mackenzie right before he arrived.
“Mademoiselles.” Kit bobbed his head so a curl of jet-black hair fell across his forehead. He set the dessert plates before them, his blue eyes twinkling.
Sabrina had to look away. She stared at the plate. The phyllo triangle had been baked golden brown, set in a pool of raspberry puree and drizzled with a spiderweb of dark chocolate syrup. A dollop of rich vanilla ice cream and a ripe red raspberry nestled beside it.
Too much temptation for one weak woman to withstand. She said in a low voice, “Mackenzie, this is Kristoffer Rex.”
Mackenzie was gazing up at him without blinking. “I figured.”
“Call me Kit,” he said.
“Kit, I’d like you to meet Mackenzie Bliss, my sister.”
Mackenzie’s smile was a little too wide and far too dazzled. “Nice to meet you.” She offered her hand.
Kit took it. “My pleasure.”
“Oh, no, the pleasure’s all mine.” Mackenzie raised her eyebrows at Sabrina, then glanced at her plate. “This looks scrumptious.”
“Phyllo with coconut, almond and chocolate filling. Please taste it before the ice cream melts.”
Mackenzie opened the chartreuse napkin folded around her utensils. “Won’t you join us?”
Sabrina’s stomach flip-flopped. “He can’t, he’s preparing—”
“Love to,” Kit said. “For a minute.” He glanced at Sabrina for approval before pulling a chair out.
She nodded, edging her chair over an inch. The kidney-shaped table shrank to half its previous size. “We should both get back to work.”
“You have time to test my dish. That’s work, isn’t it?” Kit’s eyes crinkled…at Mackenzie.
Sabrina stabbed the pastry and the warm chocolate filling oozed out. Mackenzie took a bite and rolled her eyes skyward. “Mmm, delicious.”
Kit smiled a thank-you and then looked at Sabrina. “What do you think, boss?”
She lifted a bit of the flaky pastry to her lips, wondering what had happened to kid. Kit knew she wasn’t his boss, of course. She was in charge of the serving staff and the lunch receipts and reported to the restaurant’s head manager each evening. The owners, Dominique and her partner, Curt Tyrone, dropped in occasionally, greeting guests and standing around gossiping while showing off their fabulous selves to best advantage.
“Very good,” Sabrina said. “Although I don’t have much of a sweet tooth.”
Kit lounged in his chair, fingers laced over his abdomen. “Oh?”
“It’s true,” Mackenzie put in earnestly. “Sabrina’s taste buds are geared toward spicy foods. But I was just telling her that she should start eating more chocolate.”
Sabrina would have kicked her sister under the table, but Kit’s stretched-out legs were in the way. He wore faded jeans and battered running shoes under his double-breasted chef’s coat.
“We should all make it a habit to eat a bit of chocolate every day,” Kit said. “It does a body good.”
“Exactly,” Mackenzie said. “But Sabrina only likes what’s bad for her.”
“Ha.” Sabrina licked ice cream off her spoon. “My sister’s in the candy business,” she told Kit.
“How interesting.” He focused on Mackenzie. “What do you do?”
“I worked at Regal Foods in the sweets division until recently. Now I’m opening my own penny-candy emporium in the Village. It’s to be called Sweet Something.” Mackenzie shot her sister a mischievous glance. “Sabrina will have to bring you to the grand opening.”
Kit’s gaze slid sideways; Sabrina felt it slip over her like warm honey. “I’d be delighted.”
She stabbed the phyllo. “That’s marvy. So would I.”
“Then it’s a date,” Mackenzie said.
Sabrina glared. She was going to take the scissors to her sister’s hair herself and she would be no gentler than when she’d shorn all their Barbie dolls and made Mackenzie cry.
Mackenzie went on as if Sabrina wasn’t giving her the squinty-eyed death ray. “What about you, Kit? How did you come to work at Decadence?”
He shrugged. “Curt and Dominique found me working at a resort in Tahiti. They liked my desserts and offered me a job. I’ve never lived in New York City, so I gave it a try.”
“Do you move around a lot?”
“I have.”
“So does Sabrina. You two must have a lot in common.”
Again, Sabrina felt Kit’s eyes on her, but this time they weren’t nearly as warm. “Is that so?”
“I like change.” She put down her spoon, realizing she’d polished her plate without being aware of it. The sweetness of the dessert lingered on her tongue, and she rather liked it. The rich chocolate was giving her a glow inside.
An awkward silence had fallen, so Mackenzie moved the conversation forward in her usual faciliatory way. “Where are you from, Kit?”
“A small town in Ohio. But I’ve lived all over.”
“You have the slightest accent. It doesn’t sound like Ohio to me.”
“I’m homogenized. A little Midwest twang, a little New England, a little French and Italian, all mixed up with a teaspoon of the lazy island lilt.”
Mackenzie was getting more out of him in five minutes than Sabrina had in a week. But then, very little of their time together had been spent talking. Just staring, at least for her part. “Mackenzie and I grew up in suburban New York.”
“Scarsdale.” Mackenzie nodded. “Our parents are still there.”
“What do you mean still?” Sabrina said, even though Kit was watching and listening.
“Again, then.” Mackenzie explained for Kit’s benefit. “Mom and Dad divorced when I was twelve and Sabrina was thirteen. They remarried six weeks ago.”
Sabrina rolled her eyes. “It’s a suburban American fairy tale.”
“Sounds like it to me.” Kit stood and took their plates. “I have to go back to work.”
