A Taste of Ice by Hanna Martine Read Free Book Online Page B

serious level of clientele to your show. You will sell, and you will be able to fix your car ten times over.”
    Cat laughed. “Tell me more about him. About the two of you.”
    Helen folded her crumpled white napkin next to her fork. She took her time, made sure all the edges lined up. “I was married to Michael Ray’s father, Raymond, when the boy was eight. I was told his mother just upped and left, and never looked back. My marriage to Raymond lasted less than a year; he was a demanding ass of a man who didn’t understand I could be a demanding ass of a woman. It’s how I got to where I was; I don’t know why he never saw that. Anyway, almost as soon as the honeymoon was over, so were we.
    “Except that I adored Michael Ray. First abandoned by his mom and then completely ignored by his dad. I insisted on keeping in touch with him even after I’d gone. I wasn’t going to be the third adult to walk out on him. We used to have ice cream every Sunday, even after wife number three came around, and then wives four and then five. Even growing up in L.A., where kids’ views of the real world are so twisted, and even with that ass of a dad, he was a good kid. And then something happened.” She shifted on her chair, then turned and waved to the waiter for the check. “At first I thought it was just puberty but I’m pretty sure something else went on with him, too. We were close enough I’d hoped that if something was wrong he could tell me, but he never did.”
    “You still don’t know?”
    “No.” Helen’s gaze turned inward. “But it changed him. Made him hard and angry at first, then really, really arrogant. More so than he is now, if you can believe it. Things with his dad just got worse. It was like they were enemies; it was very strange. But I made sure to stand by him and treat him like a human should be treated. It was my hope he wouldn’t turn out like his father.” She laughed to herself. “Although at times that can be debated.”
    “I admit I don’t know him that well. Our conversations have remained fairly on the surface.”
    Helen stretched across the table and patted her hand. “Well, I do. And deep down he really does have a good heart. I’ve seen it. He believes in you. And I do, too. We’re partners now, Cat.”
    A knot of tension started to uncoil from deep inside her.She let herself sink into her chair, relaxing in the aura of Helen’s faith.
    As Helen looked over the check and took out her wallet, Cat let her gaze drift toward the kitchen. Xavier stood tall behind the counter, front and center, owning it. His long hair was tied back in a band, a black handkerchief with SHED stenciled over his brow. Deep lines of concentration creased his mouth. He whisked something now, one arm churning madly in a stainless steel bowl. He paused to wipe his forehead on the sleeve of his black double-breasted coat…then froze. As though he knew she was staring again.
    As if he could feel her, too.
    For the second time that evening, his eyes met hers. The sight of his—so gray as to be silver—pulled a little gasp from her throat. Maybe they glowed, or maybe it was just the reflection of the bright kitchen lights. There was power in his stare. Yearning. And denial.
    Their moment couldn’t have lasted more than a second or two, but when his head bent to return to his work, she exhaled like she’d held her breath for an hour.
    Helen dropped the pen into the check folder. “Do you know him?”
    “Who?” Damn wineglass was empty. Cat had nothing to do with her hands.
    Helen threw a pointed look at Xavier.
    “No.” Cat fidgeted with a spoon. “No, I don’t know him.”
    “Huh,” Helen said. Her eyes shifted between Xavier and Cat. “I recognize him, you know. I’ve seen him around town. And here, of course, when I bring in clients and artists. He’s very handsome.”
    Handsome wouldn’t have been the word Cat used. Stunning, maybe. Intriguing.
    “You sure you don’t know him? He looks at