Free Fortune's Just Desserts by Marie Ferrarella Page B

pleased look. “I’ll see what I can do about that.” Her eyes lit up as she continued talking to him. He could almost see the idea forming in her head. “There’s this thing I’ve been thinking about.” And then she plunged right into the heart of what had captured her imagination. “Chocolate with raspberries and powdered sugar, with just a tiny little pinch of—”
    â€œDon’t talk,” Marcos interrupted, pointing her toward the pantry. “Do.”
    Wendy snapped to attention and then gave him a smart two-finger salute. “Yes, sir, ” she declared.
    The woman was mocking him, Marcos thought, as he turned on his heel and walked back out of the kitchen. He deliberately avoided looking at Enrique, who was pretending to be working.
    Marcos supposed he deserved that for the way he’d treated her. He hoped he wouldn’t live to regret this. Any of this.
    Hell, part of him already did.
    But this—all of it—was for the sake of the restaurant, he reminded himself. Nothing was more important than having Red operating at maximum efficiency—not even his pride.
    He’d earn back his pride—and then some—when he left Red in top condition to go on and open his own place, using everything he’d ever learned working here, he promised himself confidently.
    Marcos could almost taste it and he could hardly wait for that day to come.
    What else can you taste, Marcos? asked that same annoying little voice in his head.
    If he didn’t know better, he would have sworn that his annoying little voice had acquired a Southern twang.
    Walking into his office, Marcos closed the door behind him. He switched on the radio and turned it up louder than usual. He reasoned that if it was loudenough, it would drown out the sound of her voice, as well as the little voice in his head.
    At least it was worth a try.
    It failed.
    Â 
    She kept the phone within reach at all times.
    Ever since William had disappeared and one of the happiest days of her life had instantly transformed into one of the saddest, Lily Fortune was never more than a few steps away from her cell phone. Even during her morning shower, the phone was placed on the counter next to the shower door and the ringer turned up high so there was no chance that she would miss a call.
    And each time it rang, her heart would leap up into her throat and a prayer would spring to her lips. And each time, when it turned out not to be William, her heart would slowly sink and the prayer would fade.
    Even so, Lily absolutely refused to give up hope, refused to remain anything but optimistic that somehow, some way, someday, William would walk back into her life as abruptly as he had walked out.
    The questions that surrounded his disappearance would all be answered then, but they were of secondary importance to her. What was really important was William’s return—alive and well—to the family who loved him.
    Worry had stolen her appetite. Nothing tasted right to her anymore. Nonetheless, Lily forced herself tohave at least two meals a day because she was determined to keep up her strength. William, she sensed, was going to need her when he returned. And he would need her to be strong. She’d be no help to him if she wound up becoming a drain rather than an asset.
    So, this morning after she’d allowed the cook to place before her a lone scrambled egg with a sprinkling of cheddar cheese and a single corner of wheat toast, Lily pushed the food around her plate, finally consumed it and tried to plan her day. She wanted to be at least a little productive.
    William wouldn’t want her to become listless and moody in his absence. He’d told her once that he fell in love with her vitality first. She didn’t want him to find her a shell of the woman he loved when he finally returned.
    Lily dropped her fork when her cell phone rang, nearly knocking over her orange juice in her hurry to