The Mommy Plan by Susan Gable

Author:Susan Gable
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Harlequin

RACHEL BLINKED A FEW TIMES as her eyes adjusted to the dimly lit restaurant. Red-and-white-checked tablecloths covered the tables; flickering candles spilled melting wax down their wine-bottle holders. Soft instrumental music swelled in the background, and Rachel tried to swallow the dry sand in her mouth.

Butterflies—or maybe Molly’s fireflies—flitted in her stomach as James took her elbow.

What would they talk about now that the car topic had been exhausted? Small talk had never been her forte.

“Right this way.” With a smile, the young hostess clutched the menus to her chest and headed toward the back of the restaurant, weaving through the mostly unoccupied tables.

The kitchen door opened as they passed, and the scent of freshly baked garlic bread wafted out. Rachel’s stomach did a somersault. She stumbled.

James steadied her. “You okay?”

“Fine.” She shrugged off his hand, squeezed her lips together tightly, and followed the hostess.

After they were seated at a secluded table in a little back alcove and had placed their drink orders, Rachel studied the menu intently.

“What looks good to you?”

You do. But she didn’t dare voice that opinion, even though it might have distracted her from the memories the little Italian place was threatening to bring to the surface. “I don’t know. What are you going to have?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe the lasagna.”

“No!” The plastic menu holder clattered against the tabletop and Rachel folded her hands in her lap.

“You have something against lasagna?”

Sweat beaded on the back of her neck. “Sorry. No, you go ahead and order what you want.” She could handle it. For pity’s sake, get a grip. It’s just food.

He set down his menu and held out his hand expectantly.

Tentatively, she unwound the linen napkin and placed her hand in his palm. Warmth infused her as he closed his strong fingers around hers.

“Rachel, friends share. They don’t bottle things up.” He winked at her. “Remember what I told you happens when you bottle things up?”

Yes, you end up looking crazy and incompetent and on the brink of losing the only thing you have left. Only he’d put it more professionally. Something about ending up with a stress-related illness. She sighed and nodded.

“So tell me, why don’t you want me eating lasagna?”

The dim lighting, soothing, soft music and warmth from his hand made her feel safe. “What do you call it when a person won’t eat something because it made her sick once?”

“A conditioned taste aversion?”

“I have one of those to lasagna.”

He studied her intently, and she squirmed in her seat.

“It has something to do with Daniel, doesn’t it?”

She bobbed her head slightly. “It was his favorite. I was making it for him—” She cleared her throat. “I had a batch in the oven, cooking, when Roman called to tell me Daniel had been hurt.”

“Oh, God.” James squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry, Rachel. Okay, no lasagna.” He glanced around the restaurant. “Are you sure you want to stay? Because we can go someplace else. We don’t have to have dinner here.”

“And lose our prize?” She shook her head.

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