Always Friday Read online

  “Who’s Ivan?” Daniel asked. “The cook?”

  Tess pursed her lips to keep from laughing. Ivan would pop a blood vessel if he knew someone had referred to him as a “cook.” Cocking her head, Tess pondered the question. “No, not exactly. How do I explain Ivan Petkov?”

  “Petkov? Is he Russian?”

  Tess shook her head. “Bulgarian originally. American now. He’s a friend of Aunt Olivia’s, though for thirty years, he’s been trying to make her more than a friend. He’s an internationally-known chef who comes to visit now and then, sometimes for a few days, sometimes for a few years.”

  “Years?”

  Tess laughed at his incredulous expression. “Sometimes.”

  “How long has this visit been?”

  “Almost two years so far. He came when my aunt fell and broke her hip. Ivan and I arrived the same day. After she recovered, he stayed on to write a cookbook.”

  “And you?”

  She shrugged. “I just stayed.”

  She strode toward her car, a creamy-yellow junkyard hybrid she called Buttercup. As she tossed her bagpipe in the back seat, she saw Dan do a double take, and she smiled. Buttercup affected a lot of people that way—it was a great advertisement for Custom Conversions, the body shop and garage she owned with Luis Garza.

  He frowned at the front of the car, walked around and frowned at the rear. “What is this thing?”

  She patted the fender. “Buttercup is a Custom Conversion. Pretty, isn’t she? Before Luis found her at the junkyard and fixed her up, she was a rusty green Volkswagen beetle. After he overhauled the engine, he added a scaled-down Rolls-Royce grille, a continental tire kit to the back, wire wheels, and” —she brandished her hand in an exaggerated presentation—”voila . . . a new incarnation.”

  “Interesting,” Daniel said.

  As her eyes slid over the conservative navy blazer, the gray slacks, and the correct silk tie, Tess fought a smile. Although he reminded her a little of a young Clint Eastwood before he lost his hair, she knew he was no “Dirty Harry.” Daniel Friday’s image was corporate establishment to the core. What had happened to the sexy, playful man she had glimpsed earlier? It was somewhere under all that Armani baloney. He needed loosening up in a bad way. And she was just the person to tweak his buttoned-down sensibilities.

  “Which translates,” she said with a wry twist of her lips, “to I wouldn’t be caught dead driving such a thing.’ “

  “Now, I didn’t say that.”

  She laughed. “You didn’t have to. I’ll bet you drive a Mercedes.” She squinted at him for a moment. “Brown.”

  “Gray.”

  “Close enough.”

  He seemed surprised. “How did you know?”

  “Lucky guess.” She could spot the type at fifty paces. Her old Mercedes had been beige. She much preferred Buttercup.

  “I know you’re in a hurry, but could you explain Gram’s sudden interest in racetracks and RVs? I’m concerned.”

  “Well, Pirate’s Pleasure is a racehorse Aunt Olivia and Aunt Martha want to buy, and—”

  “A racehorse?” The words erupted from him. Looking at her with a pained expression as if his shorts were too tight, he mashed his fingers against the tail of his silk tie. “What the hell would two old ladies do with a racehorse?”

  If he was upset about the racehorse, he’d probably blow a gasket over the RV and the treasure-hunting scheme. She’d wait and let his grandmother explain that one. Tess glanced down at her watch.

  “Yikes, it’s almost nine o’clock. Becky will kill me if the delivery wagon isn’t ready.” Giving him a bright smile, she scrambled into the car and fluttered her fingers. “Bye. I’ve got to run. Be sure and make yourself at home. I’ll see you later,” she called out as she roared away from the curb.

  * * *

  Just as Janice and Sue came in to work the evening shift at the Mermaid, Ivan phoned. He reported that Dan was reading in the study, and that Hook and the ladies had phoned from Louisiana. Thrilled to hear that Dan was in town, they promised to be back in time for dinner. Tess peeled off her stained apron and hurried to the house on Broadway.

  After she had bathed, Tess slipped on a long tube dress slit from left ankle to knee and turned the convertible turtleneck into an off-the-shoulder band. Though she considered this cotton knit dress one of her most comfortable, the bold purple and teal-swirled fabric also hugged every curve of her body. And a good body it was, she admitted as she surveyed herself critically in the full-length mirror. Especially since she’d stopped spending her days behind a desk.

  She spritzed a bit of scent on her throat and brushed her short hair back into full gleaming waves. She even took time to add a touch of exotic eye shadow and a dash of lipstick. She told herself it wasn’t for Daniel Friday, but, as she studied her reflection in the mirror, she kept trying to picture herself in his eyes. Her chin lifted and her shoulders drew back just a tad.

  With a wry smile, she cocked an eyebrow and said, “Maybe I’ll give you a little something to remember on those cold nights in Pittsburgh, Mr. Friday.”

  She added a few bangle bracelets, and dangling peacock feather earrings that brushed against her bare skin, then slipped into Moroccan sandals and went downstairs.

  Ivan and Dan were having drinks in the large formal drawing room. Tess entered the room and smiled as she listened to the booming voice of the older man regaling Dan with one of his exploits. Ivan, who dearly loved a fresh audience, was perched on the edge of a gilt chair, gesturing broadly. He looked totally out of place in the high-ceilinged room with its Aubusson carpet, gold chandelier, and rococo revival furniture. The beefy Bulgarian wore a Greek fisherman’s sweater, his latest sartorial passion, stretched over his thick chest.

  Dan, in his navy blazer, seemed more comfortable on the elaborately carved settee where he sat listening politely to Ivan’s tale. He had on a fresh shirt and another conservative tie, the spares, no doubt, which every good executive carried in his trusty leather briefcase. Before either of the men was aware of her presence, she took a moment to study Dan and wondered what he would look like in a fisherman’s sweater with that fantastic hair of his a little mussed. Damned good, she suspected.

  “Have another Shrimp Puff Ole,” Ivan said as he thrust the silver tray at Daniel. When Dan declined, Ivan drew his shaggy brows together and asked, “Too spicy, you think?” Before he received an answer, Ivan caught sight of Tess. “Ah, my lovely Tess, come taste my shrimp puffs. I make a new creation from the beautiful shrimps I catch today with my own hands. Here,” he boomed, thrusting the tray toward her. “Taste and tell me what you think.”

  Tess winked at Dan, who had stood when she entered, and popped one of the delicate golden morsels in her mouth. As she chewed and swallowed, her eyes widened and glazed with tears. “Good Lord, Ivan,” she gasped.

  “A little too hot maybe?”

  “A little hot? It would take the hair off a dog.”

  Ivan roared with laughter. “Just like my Olivia. She never spares my feelings when I make a disaster. I will put these down the disposal.” He started out the door, tray in hand. “Take the hair off a dog. I like that.” His robust laughter echoed behind as he left.

  “Is he always so . . .”

  “Gregarious? Blustery? Larger-than-life?” Tess supplied, laughing. “Always. But he’s really a dear, a teddy bear underneath all that bravado.” With Dan following, she crossed to the drink cart and mixed a wine spritzer for herself. “He rarely ever prepares anything that isn’t delicious, but when he has a failure, it’s a doozy. How many of those fireballs did he foist off on you?”

  “I only had a couple.”

  “And you managed to keep a straight face? You must have an insulated digestive system.”

  “I think the Scotch dulled the pain.” He laughed and Tess was glad to see the more relaxed side of him peeking through.

  He seemed a little looser this evening, Tess thought. She sipped her spritzer and assesse
d the tall man beside her with frank admiration. Oh, he had a long way to go before all the starch was out of his collar, but the blue-gray eyes perusing her were a bit less strained, the frown lines softer.

  “You look lovely this evening. I like your plumage.” His hand rested on her bare shoulder as his finger ruffled the edge of her feathered earring.

  The sensation of his skin on hers, the message in his eyes, made the hairs on the side of her neck stand up, and the drink in her mouth turned to warm foam. And her silly knees started doing their own thing. Part of her wanted to purr and rub her cheek against his hand; the rest of her wanted to offer her other shoulder to be stroked. It was a darned shame he lived half a country away. She had a feeling about staid Daniel Friday. A powerful feeling.

  She swallowed. “Thanks,” she said, stepping out of his reach before she became addicted to his touch. How could a man affect her so? She’d been engaged to David Lloyd for nearly three years, and not once had her knees wobbled or the hairs on her neck prickled. “What kind of business are you in back in Pittsburgh?”

  “Have you ever heard of Friday Elevators?”

  “Of course.” She started to say that, until two years ago, she could have quoted from their prospectus, or she could have recalled that the company had almost gone under some years ago but had shown a steady growth for about the last ten. Instead, she bit her lip.

  “You’re not going to say anything about business being up and down, are you?”

  Tess laughed. “No, do you get that a lot?”

  “All the time.”

  Ivan lumbered in with another tray, which Dan eyed suspiciously, “No, no.” The chef waved a massive hand. “No more jalapeno juice. Only a little cream cheese with toasted almonds and very delicate herbs. Delicious, I promise. And the dinner I fix tonight, ahhh. If Hook doesn’t get my Olivia back to taste it, I’ll skewer that big ox. They should be home by now. Do you think they have trouble? Ach,” he said, slapping his forehead with the heel of his hand, “I should never have trusted my love’s safekeeping to that criminal.”

  “Now Ivan,” Tess said, “you know that Hook would guard the ladies with his life.”

  “So you say, but I”—he patted his chest—“Ivan Petkov, say: Never trust a man with a gold tooth.”

  Noticing Dan’s frown, Tess said, “Don’t mind Ivan. He and Hook have been feuding for fifteen years. Hook is completely reliable and devoted to my aunt.”

  “Bah! He fools her to keep from going back to prison.”

  Daniel choked on his Scotch. “Prison?” He could feel new bile added to the fire piercing his gut. What kind of a madhouse was Gram living in? Maybe Kathy was right to be concerned.

  Tess glared at Ivan, turned to Dan, and waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, that was a long time ago.”

  “What was he in prison for?” Dan tried to make his question casual, but he could feel the blood draining from his face.

  Tess shrugged. “The first time he was in a bar fight. Manslaughter, I think it was. He was very young. Barely eighteen.”

  “The first time? There’s more?”

  She sighed and glared at Ivan again. “The second time was for armed robbery.”

  “My God!” Daniel felt a searing stab in his solar plexus and he clutched his hand to his stomach.

  “We’re home,” a bass voice rumbled.

  Daniel looked up to see his grandmother and another older woman. Standing in the doorway behind them, his slick bald head nearly touching the top of the frame, was a giant of a man. Built like a heavyweight wrestler with leg breaking on his mind, his bulk filled the opening. A thick scar creased his ebony cheek from the corner of his left eye to his chin. A gold front tooth winked from his broad grin.

  “Gram—” Dan took two steps toward the short, gray-haired lady. A piercing pain shot through his head, a faint, shrill static filled his ears, and the world faded away.

  Chapter 2

  It was almost dawn. Tess sat beside the hospital bed watching clear liquid from a suspended bag drip slowly into the chamber which fed the long tube of Dan’s IV. She’d been sitting in a straight chair, holding his hand, since he’d been transferred from intensive care the evening before.

  Twice during the long night she had gotten up to go to the bathroom and ease the kinks from her body, but Dan had become so restless when her hand left his that she quickly settled back beside him.

  “I’m here,” she’d whispered, and when her fingers touched his once more, he’d squeezed her hand and slipped into a quiet sleep.

  With her free hand, Tess took a sip of the coffee a thoughtful nurse had provided, and her eyes scanned the face that had become so familiar during her long vigil. She had memorized every dip and plane from tousled hair to strong jaw. Not even the little freckle at the corner of his lower lip had escaped her notice.

  Though he still seemed pale beneath the sandy stubble of whiskers, his color was better. Sleep smoothed the furrows of his forehead and relaxed the hard set of his mouth.

  In the past few hours a strange bond had grown between them. She felt it, the strength of it, the absolute rightness of it, deep within her. A fierce possessiveness tugged at her heart and swelled her throat. Daniel Friday was hers. She knew it as surely as she knew the sun would rise over the Gulf of Mexico. Fate, with a little push from Aunt Martha, had brought him to Galveston, to her. He needed to recapture old dreams and to learn the meaning of real joy. Knowing, accepting, Tess smiled. She’s been waiting for someone like Dan for a long time. Though she suspected he would rather die than admit it, he needed someone like her. No, he needed her.

  Dan’s eyelids fluttered open. He blinked, frowned, and looked at her. “Tess?”

  “Good morning,” she said.

  “Morning.” The husky reply was an automatic response as he continued to frown at his surroundings. “I thought I dreamed you,” he murmured, then licked his lips. “My mouth is so dry.”

  She helped him take a sip of water. “Feeling a little disoriented?” He nodded. “You’re in John Sealy Hospital in Galveston. You’ve been very ill.”

  His eyebrows came together. “What are you talking about? I’m never sick.” His words were slurred from the aftereffects of the medication. “And I haven’t been in a hospital since I had my appendix out when I was twelve. What happened?”

  “You fainted and—”

  “Fainted?” His indignation woke him up.

  Tess tried to keep the amusement from her voice.

  “Sorry, you, uh, passed out in our living room. Luckily, a doctor who lives next door was home. Dr. Ed—Ed Shafer, he’s an internist—called an ambulance. Things were shaky for a while, but you’re going to be just fine.” She patted his hand.

  “What was wrong with me?”

  “A gastric ulcer.”

  “An ulcer?”

  She nodded. “A bad one. And maybe some other stuff. They’ve been running tests.”

  “Good God!” He looked chagrined. “What time is it?”

  Tess turned the hand he still held to look at her watch. “It’s six forty-three in the morning.”

  Dan withdrew his hand and started to get up. “I’ve got to get out of here.”

  “Whoa, tiger.” Tess pressed his shoulders back on the bed and motioned toward the IV with her head. “You’re not going anywhere until the doctor says so. You’re still hooked up and as weak as a newborn.”

  “I’ve got to get back to Pittsburgh.”

  “What’s so wonderful about Pittsburgh? I’ve been there a couple of times, and, frankly, I think Galveston is much better for your health.”

  Straining against her hold, he scowled and said as if speaking to a child, “I have an important meeting scheduled with the board of directors. It’s crucial that I attend.”

  Tess pursed her lips and slowly shook her head. “The meeting was day before yesterday. Kathy said to tell you that she took charge and everything went fine.”

  He slumped against the pillow and threa
ded his fingers through his hair. “My God, what day is it? How long have I been here?”

  “It’s Wednesday, and you’ve been here almost four days. The first two days you were in intensive care. Dan, you’ve really been very ill.”

  “Obviously I’m better now. Where are my clothes? I’ve got to get back to work.”

  “Not unless you’re anxious to die,” a gruff voice said from the doorway. A stocky, balding man with a stethoscope in the pocket of his white coat strode into the room.

  Tess offered him a bright smile, got up, and pecked him on the cheek. “Good morning, Dr. Ed.” To Dan she said, “This is Dr. Ed Shafer, our neighbor who saved your life. He’s head of the internal medicine faculty at the University of Texas Medical Branch. If you had to get sick, you picked a good place for it. We have one of the finest health care facilities in the country.”

  “I’ll remember that,” Dan grumbled at her. “Dr. Shafer, I appreciate your care. Now, when may I get out of here? I have a company to run.”

  The doctor pulled another chair close to the bed and sat down. “Mr. Friday, I believe we need to talk about your plans. You were unconscious when we brought you in Saturday night, so I talked to several people in an effort to obtain your medical history—including your physician in Pittsburgh, who I understand hasn’t seen you in four years. Your grandmother and your sister both told me the same thing: they said you were killing yourself running that company of yours. They may be right. You have gastritis and a severe gastric ulcer.”

  “I thought that ulcers weren’t considered such a big deal anymore,” Dan said.

  “Not so. Many, in fact most, ulcers are caused by bacteria and easily treated with antibiotics, but your tests showed no signs of that being the case. The second most common culprit is certain drugs. Your sister tells me that you take a lot of aspirin and other over-the-counter drugs. May I ask why?”