sighed. Damn. He was going to have to tell her. He’d hoped to avoid it, although that was probably an unrealistic hope, anyway, since he would need her cooperation.
“Look, I need you to help me with a little problem I have.” He wasn’t used to fumbling for words like this, but the whole situation was damned awkward. “I’ve got a business associate whose eighteen-year-old daughter has decided I’m…” He searched for an appropriate expression, didn’t find one, and started over. “I mean, for some reason, she finds me—” He stopped. This was hopeless.
Deborah smiled faintly. “She has a crush on you?”
“Yes, that’s it.” He hoped he didn’t look as embarrassed as he felt. “Anyway, since her father’s divorced and she usually goes to functions with him, it’s a safe bet she’ll be at the party.” He grimaced. “Heather’s very young, and she’s had a rough time with her parents’ divorce. The last thing I want to do is hurt her feelings. It’ll be much easier all around if I’m otherwise attached.” Attached to a woman, he wanted to emphasize. But this wasn’t the time to point out that Deborah would have to mature herself for his party. He’d cover that later.
“I see,” Deborah said slowly. She was looking at him strangely, as if something about him puzzled her. For a long moment she said nothing at all. Finally she asked, “How attached are we talking here? Moderately or intensely?”
Cam stifled a smile at her pink cheeks and the hint of wariness on her face. How would she react if he insisted they needed to appear intensely involved? The impulse to find out was almost overwhelming, but he ignored it the way he ignored all impulses. “Moderately would do, I’m sure.” Cam examined the resigned expression that now appeared on her face. “You’ll do it?”
Her sigh told him everything he needed to know.
Chapter Three
“So I agreed to do it,” Deborah said later that afternoon as she sat on a stool in the large kitchen of Sweetness and Light. From behind her came the constant hum of conversation in the gourmet shop’s small café area. Scents of coffee and cinnamon rolls filled the air.
Ann Medford dropped a spoonful of salmon mousse into a pastry casing. “And you want me to do the catering.”
“Exactly.”
“All right, I’ll work you in. But only because it’s you.” Her friend grinned. “And because I’m curious as all get-out about this guy’s house. From what I hear, it’s got a kitchen to die for.”
“How did you hear that?” Deborah sampled a spoonful of the salmon mousse. She was just making conversation, of course. She couldn’t care less about Cameron Lyle’s house.
“I heard it from Stella. You know, up at Rags to Riches. One of her customers designed his kitchen, and she said the whole house was beautiful.” Ann whirled away to check on the pans of cinnamon rolls in the huge steel oven. She was only a few inches over five feet, but energy pulsed from her almost visibly. She was back within seconds. “Stella also said that another of her customers dated him for months, but she was never invited to his house.”
“Hmm.” Deborah dipped another spoon into the mousse.
Ann nodded. “That’s exactly what I said. He must be the private type. Hey, Deb, cool it with the mousse, would you? I’m going to have too many shells left over.”
“No problem. I can fix that.” Deborah reached for a puff pastry shell.
Ann swatted her hand away. “Didn’t you eat lunch?” She pushed a strand of her short black hair back into her hair net.
“Sure.” Deborah watched her deposit the tray of filled pastry shells on a rack. “If you call a peanut butter sandwich lunch.”
“I don’t, but you’ve probably been known to call it dinner, too.”
“Only when I serve it with macaroni and cheese.” Deborah chuckled. “You look like you’re going to faint.”
“Philistine,” Ann muttered. She plunked a ball of dough down on her pastry board.
“Not at all. I know great food when I eat it. Like these hors d’oeuvre. We’ll have to have some of these at the party.” She could easily eat a dozen or so right now, but Ann was armed and the rolling pin was marble, so that was a bad idea.
“I wonder why the hunky Mr. Lyle asked you to be his hostess?” Ann mused.
“I already told you why,” Deborah said. “I owe him.”
“I know what you told me, but that seems like a weird reason to me.” Her eyes narrowed. “I bet he has the hots for you.”
Deborah laughed. Several customers at the counter looked over in their direction, so she lowered her voice. “Trust me, Cameron Lyle doesn’t see me that way at all. He just needs a hostess and I’m handy.” A pushover, too, apparently. One little tale of woe and he had her agreeing in no time flat. Her only excuse was that his apparent compassion for a teenager had caught her by surprise. Who’d have thought the guy was capable of that kind of empathy?
Of course, she hadn’t ever pictured him apologizing to her for past rudeness, either. Another stunner.
“Oh, please.” Ann sounded exasperated. “As if he couldn’t come up with a party hostess on his own. From what we’ve both heard and seen, Indy’s ‘Most Eligible Bachelor’ has women lining up.”
Deborah grimaced. Money and good looks were apparently some women’s major criteria. She herself, on the other hand, cared about things like personality. And even though his seemed to have improved today, it still left a lot to be desired. Which was why, even if he did make her heart beat a little faster and her palms tingle, she had nothing to worry about.
He was completely resistible.
“Maybe he’s tired of female attention,” Deborah suggested. “Maybe the fact that I’m not interested is a plus.” After all, he certainly wasn’t interested in her. Even though Cameron Lyle apparently didn’t actually disapprove of her, it was clear he thought her an irritating and naïve creature. Those qualities made her a perfectly safe candidate to hostess his party. They also should have taken her out of the running for planning his party, but it was obvious he wasn’t going to give her free rein, anyway, so he probably figured he was safe enough.
“Not interested, huh?” Ann gave her a searching look. “You know, Deb, I’m a little worried about you.”
Deborah grinned. “Come off it, Ann.”
“No, really, I’m serious. You’re way too blasé about hostessing this guy’s party. He’s got every woman between sixteen and sixty panting after him, and you’re not interested.”
Ann pulled up a stool for herself and leaned in closer to Deborah. “I could understand it if Mark had broken your heart, but that’s obviously not true. I mean, you moped around for all of two days, and then there you were, Ms. Sunshine again. Which I don’t understand, either.” Her deep gray eyes stared into Deborah’s. “Are you okay? Come on, tell Auntie Ann.”
In spite of her friend’s light tones, her concern was obvious, and Deborah was touched. “I’m fine, Ann. Couldn’t be better.” Well, she could if she didn’t have this hostessing nonsense hanging over her head, but that was a different issue, and she would deal with it.
“Really?” Ann looked dubious.
“Yes. As a matter of fact, when Mark broke off our engagement, I learned a couple of important things. One was that I’d gotten engaged to him mostly to please my mom. I was depressed for a day or so, but I didn’t feel like I’d lost the love of my life. That wasn’t the problem at all.” She drew a breath. “What really got to me was that yet another man in my life had left me.”
“Oh.” Ann’s voice was soft.