The Grand Finale

Chapter Seven

Berry sipped her orange juice and watched Jake from the corner of her eye. He was clearly lost in his own thoughts. He glanced at the clock while he unconsciously drank his coffee. An air of brooding expectancy gave his dark eyebrows an ominous slant. She’d successfully avoided him since the kitchen encounter, trying with little success to sort out her feelings. It was like playing the game of plucking petals off a daisy. Keep The Plan. Junk The Plan. Keep The Plan. Junk The Plan.

In the beginning it had been her body that wanted to junk The Plan, but more and more, it was her mind that wanted to love Jake Sawyer. Oddly enough, he carried a sense of order and security with him. His lifestyle was a little extravagant, what with one-of-a-kind cars and exploding cereal, but his house was a home. That was the part that really scared her. Was she still looking for someone to take care of her mittens? Was she still looking for someone to fill in the blanks in her personality? Jake Sawyer was the man every woman dreamed of, but some incomprehensible, elusive instinct gnawed at her stomach when she thought of commitment to him.

Mrs. Fitz hadn’t noticed Jake’s preoccupation. She was contemplating the raspberry-colored egg on her breakfast plate. “Looks like Jell-O. Is it Jell-O?”

Jake checked the clock one more time. “Nope. It’s not Jell-O.”

Mrs. Fitz tried to cut it, but it skittered across the table. “Slippery little devil,” she remarked.

Berry had a similar object on her plate. It was green. “You sure this is edible?”

Jake looked injured. “Of course it’s edible. It’s also entirely natural and high in protein.”

“How’d it get green?”

“Spinach extract.”

Berry rolled it onto her spoon and watched in dismay as it slithered off Slinky style. “How do you eat it?”

Jake leaned back in his chair. “That’s the fun part.”

“You have a bizarre idea of fun.”

This was better than a room filled with first graders, Jake thought. He got to test out ideas on the ladies. Tomorrow he was going to see what they thought of his dancing Brussels sprouts.

Mrs. Fitz poked the egglike thing with her finger. “Is this a bedroom toy? Is this for those people who spray themselves with whipped cream?”

Mrs. Dugan looked up horrified. “Land sakes, Lena. You’re such a pervert. Where do you get these ideas?”

“Well, it don’t seem right for breakfast,” Mrs. Fitz complained. “At seven o’clock in the morning I don’t have the energy to chase my food around.”

Miss Gaspich glanced at her watch. “It’s not seven o’clock. It’s nine-thirty. It’s Saturday.”

“It don’t matter. It’s still too early.”

Mrs. Dugan looked disdainfully at Mrs. Fitz. “If you got to bed at a reasonable time, you’d be able to get up in the morning. I think it’s disgraceful, a woman your age staying out to all hours with that man.”

Mrs. Fitz narrowed her eyes at Mrs. Dugan. “What do you mean a woman my age? I’m not so old. Besides, I’m getting younger now that I have a beau. Haven’t had this much fun in twenty years.”

Miss Gaspich looked happily pensive as she stirred her tea. “I think I’m in love,” she said.

Mrs. Fitz shook her head. “It’s the quiet ones that fool you. Three dates, and she’s goony-eyed.”

“Isn’t this something,” Miss Gaspich said. “Just like the Love Boat where everyone falls in love. Lena and Harry, me and Bill, Berry and Jake-”

“Berry and Jake are not in love,” Berry said.

Jake raised his eyebrows.

Mrs. Fitz looked disgusted. “Of course you’re in love. Any ninny could see you’re in love.”

Berry narrowed her eyes and busied herself with her green egg. She held it firmly in her hand and tried to stab it with her fork. “I’m not in love, and Jake certainly isn’t in love,” she said.

Jake looked at her with amused curiosity. “How do you know I’m not in love?”

“It takes a long time to fall in love. We hardly know each other.”

Mrs. Dugan sniffled and stared at her fingernails.

“Oh, dear,” Miss Gaspich said, “I think one of us missed the Love Boat.”

Mrs. Fitz put her arm around Mrs. Dugan’s shoulders. “Don’t worry, Sarah, Jake’ll find a man for you.”

Mrs. Dugan stiffened her spine. “I don’t need Jake to find me a man. If I wanted a man I’d find one myself. It doesn’t bother me that I’m the only one here without a boyfriend. Doesn’t bother me at all. I found a man the first time around and I can find one now… if I want.”

“Sarah was married to a wonderful man,” Mrs. Fitz said. “And she has a son and two grandchildren.”

“You’re a big blabbermouth,” Mrs. Dugan said to Mrs. Fitz.

“That’s amazing!” Berry said. “I had no idea.”

“She don’t talk about it much because her husband was so sick for so long, and it was hard on the family.”

“It was only hard in a financial way,” Mrs. Dugan said. “It was hard to make ends meet, but we always managed to find a way.”

“What is your son doing now?” Berry asked. “Does he live in Seattle?”

“He’s in South Carolina.”

“He took up with a floozy,” Mrs. Fitz said.

“And I won’t set foot in that floozy’s house,” Mrs. Dugan said. “My son’s first wife took a job in Florida after the divorce. She’s a nurse at a hospital there. I get nice cards from my granddaughters, but I don’t get to see them much being that they’re so far away. Sometimes I get invitations, but I know everyone is scraping by, and I don’t want to be a burden.”

“One of Sarah’s granddaughters is enrolled in the University of Miami,” Mrs. Fitz said. “She’s going into medicine like her mama.”

“I’m real proud of her,” Mrs. Dugan said.

Jake folded his hands behind his head and tipped back in his chair, looking totally pleased with himself. In fact, Berry thought, he looked downright triumphant.

Everyone jumped when the doorbell rang.

“My word,” Mrs. Fitz said, “that’s the first time someone’s come to the door since we moved in here.”

Jake smiled and stood. “Probably just the paper boy collecting.”

The four women watched while Jake opened the front door wide to reveal a young man from a courier service. Jake took an envelope from the messenger and waved it at Mrs. Dugan. “It’s for you.”

Mrs. Dugan covered her mouth with her hand. “Someone’s died.”

Jake placed the envelope on the table. “I don’t think so. The return address is from a travel agency.”

Mrs. Dugan still looked worried when she opened it. She scanned the letter, and her eyes opened wide. “I don’t understand this. This must be one of those advertising gimmicks.”

Mrs. Fitz snatched the letter from Mrs. Dugan. “Lord, we’re all sitting here dying of curiosity.” Her lips moved while she read. “Sarah, you’ve won a trip on a cruise ship!”

Berry pressed her lips together and scowled at Jake. “Cruise ship?”

Jake smiled innocently. “Looks like the Love Boat’s going to sail for Mrs. Dugan, after all.”

Mrs. Fitz continued reading. “It says here this travel agency is running a senior citizens’ singles cruise, and your name was drawn to get a free ticket. All expenses paid. This is real, Sarah. I know about these cruises. They’re wonderful. Dottie Silverstein went on one last year.”

Mrs. Dugan fidgeted with her teacup. “I don’t know. I’ll have to think about this. A singles cruise. Goodness.”

“You better make up your mind fast. This boat sails tomorrow,” Mrs. Fitz told her.

Mrs. Dugan looked at the color brochure that accompanied the letter. “The boat does look pretty. I’ve never been on a big boat before.”

Mrs. Fitz slapped her leg. “Ain’t this something? You live long enough and you get to do just about everything.”

Mrs. Dugan stood at her seat. “I’ll do it!” She placed her hand over her heart. “I have to tell you, I’m scared to death.”

Berry looked at the brochure and mentally reviewed Mrs. Dugan’s wardrobe. She would need evening clothes, a bathing suit, a couple of casual outfits-none of which was hanging in her closet. The women had been getting by with a bare minimum for years. Their clothes consisted of a few practical dresses and well-worn sweaters.

“I’m going to get another cup of coffee,” Berry mumbled.

She took her cup into the kitchen and quietly emptied the sugar bowl she’d been using as a piggy bank. She’d been saving money for a Jeep, but this was an important emergency. She suspected Jake was behind this free ticket and that his motives weren’t entirely honorable, but it didn’t matter right now. Mrs. Dugan had an opportunity to do something special. Berry counted the money lying on the counter. Almost three hundred dollars. It wasn’t a huge amount, but Mrs. Dugan would be able to buy a few pretty things with it.

Berry handed the money over to Mrs. Dugan. “I hereby bestow upon you a paltry sum of money for the purpose of decking yourself out in grand style for this romantic cruise.” Berry turned to Mrs. Fitz and Miss Gaspich. “Ladies, you’re excused from pizza making for the day. I expect you to chaperone Mrs. Dugan on her rounds of the stores. Don’t let her pick up any cute young salesmen. She has to save herself for this cruise.”

Mrs. Dugan blushed and smiled. “Well, I might pick up one or two just for practice.”

Berry felt the laughter bubbling in her throat. Was this stuffy Mrs. Dugan talking?

Mrs. Dugan hugged Berry. “I know this is Jeep money, and I promise I’ll pay it all back. I’ll work twice as hard when I come back.”

The tears were hot behind Berry’s eyes. Mrs. Dugan was suddenly so much younger and happier. It was as if she was a sponge-all dry and shriveled one minute, and then suddenly swelling into radiant plumpness with the promise of a romantic adventure. Why hadn’t she seen this? Why hadn’t she realized Mrs. Dugan simply needed to have some fun? The answer took her breath away. She’d been so busy depriving herself of fun that she’d accepted Mrs. Dugan’s stern stoicism as natural.

At seven o’clock Berry turned the sign in the window to read closed.

Jake looked up from the cash register. “Something wrong?”

“We’re closing early tonight. We’re having a bon voyage party.”

Jake put his hand to her forehead. “You running a fever?”

Berry threw her baker’s apron on the counter. “Not yet, but the night is still young.”

“I like this kind of talk.”

“We need party stuff. Chips and dip and cheap champagne.”

“I feel like hiring a band.”

“I think you’ve done enough already. After all, you bought Mrs. Dugan’s cruise ticket.”

“You don’t know that for sure.”

Berry locked the front door behind them. “Are you going to deny it?”

“No. But I don’t think I want to admit to it, either.”

“You go across the street to Groman’s Bakery and see if you can get some sort of cake. Maybe you can persuade them to write something appropriate on it. I’ll get the champagne and munchies and meet you back here.”

Half an hour later they rendezvoused at the car. Jake held a large white baker’s box in his hands. “Wait until you see this terrific cake. Mrs. Schwartz got mad at her husband and canceled their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary party.”

“And you bought their cake?”

“I got a real good deal.”

Berry peeked inside. “There must be ten pounds of icing on this cake.”

“Mrs. Schwartz likes icing.”

Berry slid behind the wheel of the station wagon. “I’ll drive, you hold the icing.”

Jake settled the heavy box on his lap. “Why did you decide to do this? I was under the impression that nothing short of an invasion by aliens would get you to close the Pizza Place early.”

Berry twisted her hands on the wheel. “It was the look on Mrs. Dugan’s face. Like she was a little girl, and it was Christmas morning. She hadn’t expected anything that nice to ever happen to her again. It made peddling pizza sort of insignificant.”

The hand that touched her cheek was gentle. It tangled in the hair behind her ear and caressed her neck. “You deserve nice things, too. If I gave you a cruise, would you go on it?”

“Don’t even think about it. No more cruises!”

“Maybe we could go on a cruise for our honeymoon.”

“Honeymoon?”

The car careened into the wrong lane and thumped against the curb, causing the cake to fly off Jake’s lap, smash into the dashboard, and flip over onto Jake’s feet. Berry came to a screeching halt, looking first at Jake’s chalk-white face and then at his brand-new loafers, buried under a mountain of icing. Berry clapped her hand over her mouth. “Oh, crud.”

Jake plucked a gooey piece of cake from his trouser leg and tasted it. “Not bad.”

Berry reached down and lifted a sizable lump from his cuff. “Yum, cherry filling between the layers.”

“Mrs. Schwartz knows what she’s doing when it comes to ordering cake.”

“Ah, about the honeymoon. You did say honeymoon?”

“Mmmm. Remember my plan. Kids and dogs and a wife and stuff? Not necessarily in that order. Man, this cake is great.” He offered her a piece from the dashboard. “You have to try this. One of the layers was chocolate.”

“Are you serious?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t kid about chocolate cake.”

Berry felt the cake flipping around in her stomach. “Kids and dogs and wife and stuff?”

“I told you about it in the basement the other day.”

“Number one… you’re ignoring my plan. And number two… of all the nerve! You just don’t assume these things. What about a proposal?”

Jake licked the cake from his finger. “If I asked you to marry me, what would you say?”

“No!”

“Exactly. I decided my best shot was to hang around and make myself lovable and indispensable.”

She squinched her eyes closed and slapped herself on the forehead. “Unk.”

“How do you do that? How do you make that sort of strangled sound in your throat?” Jake asked.

When she stopped the car he was going to find out. She was going to place her fingers on his neck and squeeze until he made his very own strangling sounds. It would be okay. She was sure the judge would understand.

She pulled into the garage and reconsidered the choking idea. Suppose her fingers didn’t choke him. Suppose they wandered over his broad shoulders and played with the baby-soft curls of hair around his ears. In the past, her fingers hadn’t been too trustworthy. Probably choking was not a good idea. And what about that twinge of excitement that hit her stomach when he said honeymoon? In all honesty, before fury there had definitely been glorious delight. Better not choke him-it wasn’t good taste to choke someone you might marry. Oh, Lord, did she just think that?

Jake slid his feet out of his shoes. “If I’m careful I can leave most of the cake here.”

Berry nodded numbly. She was doomed. A small hysteria-inspired giggle escaped before she firmly clamped her mouth shut.

Jake looked at her sidewise. “Are you laughing at me?”

“That wasn’t laughing. That was a temporary loss of self-control.”

“Well, at least we’re moving in the right direction.”

Berry pushed through the kitchen door and set her grocery bag on the counter.

Mrs. Fitz was making tea. “You’re home early! Oh, Lord, now what?” she worried. “Another fire? The Pizza Place burned to the ground?”

“I decided to close early.”

“You never close early. Something happened and you don’t want to tell me. Was it the gas line? Did the gas line blow up?”

Berry took a large bowl out of the cupboard and began filling it with chips. “I just closed early. Boy, you’d think I was some kind of workaholic. You’d think I never closed early before.”

Mrs. Fitz gave Jake the once-over. “What happened to him?”

“Cake.”

“What were you doing?” she said to Jake. “Eating it with your feet? Is this something kinky?”

“It was an accident,” Berry said. “This big cake sort of fell on him.” She waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. “Anyway, we’re going to have a bon voyage party for Mrs. Dugan. I even bought champagne.”

Mrs. Fitz’s face crinkled into a smile. “What a wonderful idea. I’ll go get Mildred and Sarah. They’re upstairs, fussing with Sarah’s new clothes.”

A moment later Mrs. Dugan shyly stepped into the kitchen. “Well,” she murmured, “what do you think?” She was dressed in a smart navy pantsuit with matching navy shoes and a soft white shirt. Her hair had been cut and waved into a feminine bob that was short enough to show off a pair of small pearl earrings. “I went to the beauty parlor. Do you think that was wasteful of me?”

“Mrs. Dugan, you look beautiful.” Berry hugged her. “This is much more fun than buying a Jeep. And the beauty parlor was a great idea.”

Jake tucked a bottle of champagne under his arm and arranged five champagne glasses on a tray. “Berry, you get the snacks, and we’ll have this party in the living room while Mrs. Dugan shows us her new wardrobe.”

Mrs. Fitz settled herself on the couch. “Even the bathing suit. She looks pretty good for such an old bag.”

“I’m not so old,” Mrs. Dugan told her. “I’ve kept myself in shape. I’m almost as good as new.”

Berry slouched low in the couch, her legs outstretched, her hand toying with her empty champagne glass. “That was nice,” she said to Jake. “It would have been better if we’d had a cake, but it was still okay.”

Jake slid his arm around Berry’s shoulders. “The ladies are all tucked into bed for the night. I think this is a good time for us to have a serious discussion.”

“Okay,” Berry said, “but I might need to fortify myself with another glass of champagne.”

Jake refilled her glass. “Are you sure you want more? You look a little fuzzy.”

Berry chugged the wine and blinked when it hit her stomach. She wasn’t much of a drinker. In fact, she wasn’t any kind of a drinker. She was strictly root beer and orange juice until tonight. “I’m doing very amazingly at handling my liquor,” she said.

Jake grinned. “When was the last time you had a glass of champagne?”

Berry put her finger to her forehead to help herself think. “Hmmmm. It was at my cousin Melanie’s wedding. We all toasted the bride, and then I threw up.”

“You’re not going to throw up now, are you?”

Berry shook her head. “It was food poisoning. The chicken was contaminated.” She giggled. “Did I say contaminated?” She walked her fingers up Jake’s shirt. “You know, you’re awful cute. Sometimes I have to sit on my hands to keep from ripping your clothes off.”

Jake rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “She’s snockered. I finally have her alone, and she’s drunk as a skunk.”

“You bet I’m drunk as a skunk. Wanna take advantage of me?”

He stared at her.

“Well?” she demanded.

“I’m thinking about it.”

“Heavens. What passion.”

Jake sighed. “I can’t do it.”

“Of course you can do it. It’s easy. I’ll help you.” She settled herself in the crook of his arm and snuggled against his chest. “First thing we have to do is get you undressed.” She flipped open his top two buttons.

“Stop that! No one’s getting undressed,” he said.

“Don’t be shy. I’ve seen you in your undress. All but a couple inches.”

Jake looked down at her. “Honey, you missed more than a couple inches.”

“I didn’t mean that couple inches. Well, I guess I did, but not in that way. Not extended.”

“How about if I make us some coffee?”

Berry opened the last remaining button. “Wow,” she said, “what a body. I must have been crazy to think you had a hunchback.” She pulled his shirt aside and rested her cheek on his bare skin. “Yum,” she purred, stroking the thin line of hair that disappeared behind his jeans. “Just like bread crumbs.”

“Bread crumbs?”

“Like in Hansel and Gretel. Remember how they followed the bread crumbs to the gingerbread house?” He felt so good against her cheek, Berry thought. So enticing. “Uh-oh,” she exclaimed. “Your pants are blocking the way to the gingerbread house.”

“Berry!”

“Yes, Jakey?”

“I think we’d better get you up to bed.”

Berry’s eyes slid closed. “Not now. I’m too tired.”

He pulled her to her feet, but her knees crumpled.

“Whoops,” she mumbled, tumbling into him with a thud. “No knees. What happened to my knees?”

Jake scooped her into his arms and carried her to the stairs. At the third step her head bonked against the wall and her foot caught in the polished wooden railing.

“Dammit,” Jake swore, “this never happened to Rhett Butler.”

“Who?”

He set her down on the stairs and propped her up against the wall while he contemplated the task before him. Finally, he slung her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and carted her off to his bedroom.

“Oh, no,” Berry groaned, falling spread-eagle onto the comforter, “I’ve got the whirlies.” She draped one leg over the side of the bed until her foot touched the floor. “There, that’s better.”

“Berry, you can’t sleep like that.”

“Why not?”

“Because-”

Whump. Berry fell off the bed onto the floor.

Jake pulled her to her feet. “That’s why not.”

“This is embarrassing. I’ve never been drunk before. I don’t like it. I’m not doing this ever again.”

Berry looked at Jake through half-closed eyes. “Is it always this bright in the morning?”

“How do you feel?”

“My eyes feel like two fried eggs and there are little men wearing pointy hats and spiky shoes running around in my stomach.”

“Would you like some breakfast?”

“Not a chance.”

Jake looked at his watch. “I’m going to have to get Mrs. Dugan to the boat. I’ll drop Mrs. Fitz and Mildred off at the Pizza Place. You can take the day off.”

“Mrs. Fitz and Mildred can’t do deliveries.”

“It’s Sunday. You don’t deliver on Sunday.”

“Since when?”

“Since now. It’s a new rule I just made up.”

New rule he just made up? What a lot of nerve. Now he was making up rules for her business. She sat up in bed. “Listen here, Sawyer…”

“Yes?”

Suddenly she didn’t feel well at all. The little men in pointy hats were doing strange things in her stomach. She covered her mouth with one hand and threw the covers off with the other. “I’m going to be sick!”

She slammed the bathroom door and sank down onto the tile floor, resting her head against the porcelain tub. Ah, that was much better, she decided. Nice and cool. Now if she could just get rid of the little men in her stomach.

Jake knocked on the door. “Berry, open the door.”

“I’d sooner die.”

“Are you okay?”

“No, I’m not okay. I’m being sick.”

“Can I help?”

“Throwing up is not a group activity.”

Several minutes later she draped a wet washcloth across her forehead and opened the door. “I’m going back to bed to die, now. No deliveries on Sunday sounds like a good rule to me.”

Jake helped her into bed and tucked the covers around her. “I’ll be back as soon as I get rid of Mrs. Dugan.”

“Don’t rush. I’m just going to stay here and feel sorry for myself.”

Berry poured herself a glass of cranberry juice and stood absolutely still for a moment, enjoying the quiet solitude of the kitchen. Mrs. Fitz and Miss Gaspich were at the Pizza Place, and Jake hadn’t returned from the boat. Berry had slept the morning away, and then had stayed in bed for a while thinking about plans.

Plans were only guidelines, she’d decided. They were preliminary blueprints for the real project, and sometimes even well thought-out plans didn’t work right. For instance, she was miles deep in love with Jake Sawyer years ahead of time. Why should she be so upset about that? If it turned out she could graduate several years ahead of schedule she’d be ecstatic. Why was falling in love so different?

Berry, Berry, Berry, she warned, you’re rationalizing. There is a difference.

Oh, yeah? she answered her more practical self. Shut up.

And then there was this business about butterscotch pudding and Mrs. Dugan. She didn’t want to become a Mrs. Dugan. Now that she thought about it, she realized pudding really didn’t take all that long to make. Surely she could find ten minutes a week for pudding. Probably she could squeeze a little romance into her schedule, too. Of course, it would be with you-know-who… Mr. Yum.

Being miserably sick had at least given her the opportunity to analyze her problems. In the calm aftermath of her first and last hangover, Berry soberly concluded that you could get carried away with deprivation and timetables.

“Down with deprivation,” Berry shouted, brandishing a wooden spoon. She finished her cranberry juice and hummed happily as she hunted through the cabinets for pudding ingredients. Cornstarch, brown sugar, vanilla. She took butter and milk and eggs from the refrigerator.

Boy, she thought, life is wonderful. Here I am, happy as a clam, making pudding in Jake’s cozy kitchen. She stirred the mixture with a wire whisk while she waited for it to boil. She separated the eggs and measured the butter. Pudding from a box was okay, but it wasn’t like scratch pudding. Scratch pudding was buckled shoes and Monopoly.

She was so intrigued with the thickening pudding that she almost missed the sound of the car pulling into the garage. Jake! Her heart skipped a beat. Stop that, she commanded her heart. It’s only Jake. He lives here, remember? But she couldn’t stop smiling. She loved him totally, truly, passionately, ridiculously. And she wanted him.

She took the pudding off the stove and added the butter and vanilla. Yes sir, this was a much better plan. First, make the pudding. Second, get Jake Sawyer into the sack. Third, have her head examined. She had to be crazy. Most likely it was the alcohol. It had pickled her brain. She’d heard it could do such things.

In the absence of sherbet glasses, Berry poured the pudding into coffee cups. She heard Jake move to the kitchen and knew he was leaning his hip against the counter, his arms loosely crossed over his chest, watching her. She kept her eyes glued to the coffee cups, but she felt him assessing what he saw: Lingonberry Knudsen braless in a skimpy T-shirt and silky little running shorts. She wriggled her bare toes against the tile floor and gnawed on her lower lip. She had a new plan and she was determined to see it through to the end. Now if she could stop hyperventilating and get her blood pressure under control she’d be just dandy.

Jake crossed to where she was working and looked over her shoulder. “Smells great. What is it?”

“Butterscotch pudding.” Was that her? All husky-voiced and inviting?

He scraped some pudding off the side of the pot with his finger and took a taste. “It’s good!”

“Yup,” Berry said. “And I’ve got something even better… soap.”

“Soap?”

“Yes sir, soap. I feel like taking a shower with lots of soap.”

“Have you been drinking again?”

“Nope. Been there, done that, didn’t like it, not doing it again.” She put the pudding pot in the sink and ran water into it so it could soak. “Moving on to bigger and better stuff,” she said.

She crossed the kitchen, turned when she got to the stairs, and stripped off her shirt. She smiled at Jake and made her way to the landing, halfway to the second floor. She paused long enough for her running shorts to hit the carpet. When she didn’t hear footsteps behind her, she turned and placed her hands on her hips. “Aren’t you coming?”

“No, but I’m very close,” Jake said, unbuttoning his shirt as he followed her up the stairs. By the time he reached the bathroom she was already in the shower. He dropped his jeans at the bathroom door, removed the rest of his clothing, and joined her.

“I finally get to see all of you,” Berry said, smiling.

Jake returned the smile and took the soap from Berry’s hands. “More than a couple inches,” he said with pride.

Hours later Jake drowsily opened his eyes and pulled Berry on top of him. “Mmmm,” he murmured, kissing her neck, running his hand along the smooth curve of her back. “Holy cow,” he exclaimed, looking at his watch, “do you know what time it is?” He moved out from under her and reached for his jeans. “Poor Mrs. Fitz and Miss Gaspich have been stranded at the Pizza Place all day. I should have picked them up an hour ago.”