Summer Desserts

that she was getting enough of that, and detesting it.
    Frustrated, she whirled around the room. Nervous energy flowed from her. She stalked to the window, then, restless, turned away from the view. Ultimately she walked to the bar and poured herself a defiant portion of vermouth. The moment she heard the phone click back on the cradle, she turned to him.
    “Something has to be done!”
    “If you’re going to wave that around,” he said mildly, indicating her glass, “you’d better drink some first. It’ll be all over you.”
    Scowling, Summer look a long sip. “Blake, my mother has to go back to California.”
    “Oh?” He finished scrawling a memo. “Well, we’ll be sorry to see her go.”
    “ No! No, she has to go back, but she won’t. She insists on staying here and nursing me into catatonia. And Max,” she continued before he could comment. “Something has to be done about Max. Today—today it was shrimp salad and avocado. I can’t take much more.” She sucked in a breath, then continued in a dazed rambling of complaints. “Charlie looks at me as if I were Joan of Arc, and the rest of the kitchen staff is just as bad—if not worse. They’re driving me crazy.”
    “I can see that.”
    The tone of voice had her pacing coming to a quick halt and her eyes narrowing. “Don’t aim that coolly amused smile at me.”
    “Was I smiling?”
    “Or that innocent look, either,” she snapped back. “You were smiling inside, and nervous breakdowns are definitely not funny.”
    “You’re absolutely right.” He folded his hands on the desk. “Why don’t you sit down and start from the beginning.”
    “Listen—” She dropped into a chair, sipped the vermouth, then was up and pacing again. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate kindness, but there’s a saying about too much of a good thing.”
    “I think I’ve heard that.”
    Ignoring him, she plunged on. “You can ruin a dessert with too much pampering, too much attention, you know.”
    He nodded. “The same’s sometimes said of a child.”
    “Just stop trying to be cute, damn it.”
    “It doesn’t seem to take any effort.” He smiled. She scowled.
    “Are you listening to me?” she demanded.
    “Every word.”
    “I wasn’t cut out to be pampered, that’s all. My mother—every day it’s cup after cup of herbal tea until I have visions of sloshing when I walk. ‘You should rest, Summer. You’re not strong yet, Summer.’ Damn it, I’m strong as an ox!”
    He took out a cigarette, enjoying the show. “I’d’ve said so myself.”
    “And Max! The man’s positively smothering me with good will. Lunch every day, twelve on the dot.” With a groan, she pressed a hand against her stomach. “I haven’t had a real meal in a week. I keep getting these insane cravings for tacos, but I’m so full of tea and lobster bisque I can’t do anything about it. If one more person tells me to put up my feet and rest, I swear, I’m going to punch them right in the mouth.”
    Blake scrutinized the end of his cigarette. “I’ll make sure I don’t mention it.”
    “That’s just it, you don’t.” She spun around the desk, then sat on it directly in front of him. “You’re the only one around here who’s treated me like a normal person since this ridiculous thing happened. You even shouted at me yesterday. I appreciate that.”
    “Think nothing of it.”
    With a half laugh, she took his hand. “I’m serious. I feelfoolish enough for being so careless as to let an accident like that happen in my kitchen. You don’t constantly remind me of it with pats on the head and concerned looks.”
    “I understand you.” Blake linked his fingers with hers. “I’ve been making a study of you almost from the first instant we met.”
    The way he said it had her pulse fluctuating. “I’m not an easy person to understand.”
    “No?”
    “I don’t always understand.”
    “Let me tell you about Summer Lyndon, then.” He measured her hand against his before he linked their fingers. “She’s a beautiful woman, a bit spoiled from her upbringing and her own success.” He smiled when her brows drew together. “She’s strong and opinionated and intensely feminine without being calculating. She’s ambitious and dedicated with a skill for concentration that reminded me once of a surgeon. And she’s romantic, though she’ll claim otherwise.”
    “That’s not true,” Summer began.
    “She listens to Chopin when she works. Even while she