out in the kitchen with her and Carl when business was slow, never seeming bothered that Sadie did almost all the talking.
“What are you making for dinner tonight?” Sadie peered into her buggy before Jazz could block the view. “Ooo. Are you having company?”
“No,” Jazz said.
“Then what’s the occasion?” Sadie was smiling, making it impossible for Jazz to take offense at her prying.
“A catering job,” Jazz said.
“That’s great! I didn’t know you did that sort of thing! How long have you been at it?”
Jazz swallowed the urge to tell Sadie it wasn’t any of her business. The other woman was just trying to be friendly, the same as always. “Actually, this is my first time.”
“How exciting! What kind of job? At a country club? A private party? What?”
“The, um, client is throwing a goodbye party for one of his friends.”
“His?” Sadie picked up on the pronoun. “You’re dealing with the guy and not his wife?”
“The client’s not married,” Jazz said.
Sadie placed one hand on her curvy hip. “Then why didn’t he just buy a deli tray and some beer?”
Jazz’s thoughts exactly. Her doubts resurfaced. “I don’t know.”
“He probably wants something real nice.” Sadie laid a hand on Jazz’s upper arm, the deep pink of her fingernails in sharp contrast to Jazz’s tan shirt. “I think it’s great that he hired you.”
A doorbell sounded, loud and urgent. The people in line in front of them looked around to see where the noise was coming from. Sadie giggled, dug in her voluminous purse and pulled out a cell phone. “It’s my text message tone. Isn’t it funny?”
She pressed a button and read the lines of type. Her face crumbled, all the happiness disappearing. Jazz clamped her mouth shut, reminding herself of her long-term policy not to get involved in problems that weren’t hers.
Sadie’s eyes teared up. Oh, damn.
“Are you okay, Sadie?” Jazz asked.
“No. It’s from Ace.” Sadie thrust her cell phone at Jazz so the text was visible. Ace was the guy Sadie had been dating for the past few weeks.
Sorry, babe. Not feeling it anymore. Later.
Sadie sniffed loudly. “I can’t believe he broke up with me by text. What kind of guy does that?”
A guy who isn’t worth crying over.
“I’m sorry.” Jazz thought of how excited Sadie had been whenever she and Ace had a date planned. “Seems like you really cared about him.”
“That’s just it. I didn’t!” Sadie said. “Ace is a jerk. I mean, he nicknamed himself! And he didn’t want to meet Benjy.”
“Then why are you crying?”
Sadie dashed away the tears from under her eyes. “Because everybody I date turns out to be a jerk. I wouldn’t know a nice guy if he fell from the sky and landed in front of me. I’m a loser magnet!”
“We all make mistakes,” Jazz said.
“Have you?” Sadie peered at her through watery blue eyes.
Luke Bennett’s face flashed in Jazz’s mind. One of his eyebrows was cocked and his grin was coaxing, the way he’d looked when he offered to show Jazz a good time on her eighteenth birthday.
She’d been nervous about becoming a legal adult because her foster parents would only house her until the end of the school year. Luke made the landmark seem like an adventure.
“No more kid stuff,” he’d said.
That statement turned out to be prophetic. Since she was eighteen when the crime was committed, she was charged as an adult.
“Oh, yeah,” Jazz said. “I made a whopper.”
Sadie’s tears stopped. “Is that why you wouldn’t go out with that Matt guy?”
“How do you know I wouldn’t go out with him?” Jazz hadn’t shared any information about Matt. After a while, Sadie had given up asking about him.
“You’d be smiling way more if you were dating someone that hot,” Sadie said.
Jazz did smile then. She liked Sadie. The waitress made it impossible not to.
“I’m not looking to date anyone right now,” Jazz said.
“Why not?”
Should Jazz tell her? What would it hurt? “I don’t trust my instincts.”
“You and me both, sister,” Sadie exclaimed. “You and me both.”
CHAPTER FOUR
JAZZ CRACKED THE Crock-Pot lid Saturday afternoon to check on the meatballs, getting a whiff of the pineapple preserves she’d used to make the sauce.
Excellent.
She transferred bite-sized quiche, stuffed mushrooms and mini crab cakes from plastic containers to a tray she could pop in the oven when guests started to arrive.
All of the hors d’oeuvres had passed her taste test. So had the fresh fruit she’d arranged on skewers, purchased earlier today at the local farmer’s market.
“Did you know you’re smiling?”
Jazz looked up from her work to find Matt in the kitchen, leaning against the half wall that led to the rest of the town house. He wore khaki shorts that ended a few inches above the knee and a button-down, short-sleeved cream shirt that contrasted with his thick golden-brown hair. He looked fantastic.
“Nothing’s more satisfying than cooking.” Jazz swept a hand to indicate her surroundings. “Especially in a kitchen like this.”
The rest of his town house was nice, with rich, dark-wood furniture and a color scheme that incorporated shades of navy, forest-greens and burgundy. The kitchen was spectacular. Granite countertops with plenty of space. Top-of-the-line stainless steel appliances. Plentiful cabinets with wood inlays. It was a kitchen fit for a gourmet.
“Then you’re glad you took the job?” he asked. “I got the impression something was holding you back.”
The twins, she thought.
“It was you,” she blurted out. Anything to throw him off track. To soften the abruptness of her accusation, she smiled. “I thought the catering thing might be a scam you use on women who refuse to date you.”
He threw back his head and laughed, a pleasant, rumbling sound. “Then how do you explain the goodbye party for my friend?”
“Tell
