Kate Hoffmann - The Drifter

He grabbed his laptop and turned it on, then waited for a wireless connection. When he found one, he handed the laptop to Angela. “Show me.”

She typed in the Web address, then flipped through a few links. When she was finished, she handed him the computer. To Charlie’s shock, he saw a photo of himself and an entire list of posts from women he’d slept with. “Shit,” he murmured. “Can anyone see this?”

She nodded. “Yes. If they know where to look. Your profile doesn’t come up on a search, though. You have to enter our site first.”

“And this is legal?”

“Oh, yes.”

Charlie read through some of the comments, wincing as he came across passages he recognized. He glanced up at the first post. “VeggieLuv,” he murmured. It certainly didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure that one out. Slowly, a memory crystallized in his mind.

That first night in the restaurant, Eve had mentioned something about a Web site, then quickly changed the subject. Was this what she’d been talking about? Is that why she thought he’d returned, to exact some punishment for posting the profile?

Eve’s post was long and detailed and horribly unflattering. This is what she really thought of him, Charlie mused. No wonder she was so wary about starting a relationship. He was exactly the kind of man she wanted to avoid. “So, I’ve dated a lot of women. I’m a single guy. There’s no law against that.”

“No, there isn’t. And I’m not interested in admonishing you for your skills in seducing women. I’m interested in finding out why and how you got this way. I want to explain to women what makes a drifter, like you, tick.”

“A drifter?”

“Yes. That’s your archetype. You move from place to place, never settling down. You lead women to believe they may just have what it takes to make you commit. And when you get bored, you move on.”

“Back up a second, here. I never made any promises.”

“Exactly!” Angela said. “That’s exactly what I expected you to say. But how do you think that makes women feel?”

He stood up, shaking his head. “I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry if I acted like an ass. Write that on your Web site or in your book. I’m doing my best to make some changes in my life. And now, I really have to go.”

With that, he grabbed his jacket and his computer and walked out of the room. Angela hurried after him. “I really would like to speak to you in more detail,” she called. “Could I phone you?”

Charlie strode down the hall, then shoved open the door and stepped out into the cool spring night. Maybe he’d been fooling himself all along. Perhaps Angela Weatherby knew him better than he knew himself. And Eve knew him best of all.

“THE RASPBERRY AND RADISH salad was huge tonight,” Lily said, flipping through the dinner tickets. “The mushroom and leek tartlet went well, too. And that lavender ice cream with a pear crumble was incredible. You have to put those recipes in the new book.”

“I haven’t had a chance to even think about the new book.”

“You have been a bit distracted,” Lily said. “So, how are things going with the new man? Or would he be the new old man?”

“I have no idea what or who he is,” Eve said. “Sometimes, I really wish I could go back to the way things were before he showed up for lunch. My life was so simple. I could focus on my cooking.” She closed her eyes and groaned. “I am so confused.” She looked at Lily. “Do I really want a man in my life right now?”

“Of course you do,” Lily said. “Especially that man.” She reached out and rubbed Eve’s shoulder. “Eve, you need to relax and let things unfold naturally. I know you like to plan, but a relationship is not like a recipe. No matter how hard you try to control the ingredients, it’s never going to come out perfect in the end. But that doesn’t mean it can’t be delicious.”

A shiver skittered down Eve’s spine. It was delicious already. Every moment she spent with Charlie was suffused with desire. No matter what they were doing, all she had to do was reach out and touch him and she was reminded of what they shared in the bedroom.

She’d never been with a man who’d made her feel so sexual. And when she was with him, she felt energized, alive, like she could conquer the world. And yet, she felt that same nervous energy that she had when her marriage was falling apart-the need to control every facet of the relationship.

If only she could follow Lily’s advice-to just let go and allow her emotions to lead her. She recalled a comment that one of her mentors at culinary school had given her. Unless she invested her heart and soul in her cooking, there would always be something missing from her plate.

“Chef?”

Sarah stood in the kitchen door. “What’s up?” Eve asked.

“Charlie is out front. He wants to talk to you.”

“Tell him to come in,” Eve said.

“He said he needed to talk to you outside.”

Eve frowned. “All right.” No doubt, he wanted her alone for a few minutes. Although, why he couldn’t wait an hour until she got home, Eve didn’t know. She walked through the main dining room and then into the bar. His silhouette was visible through the plate glass window at the front of the restaurant.

She paused for a moment, noting the tense set of his shoulders. He was pacing back and forth from the door to the street. Drawing a deep breath, she pulled the bandanna off her head and set it on the bar.

As Eve stepped out into the cool night, she ruffled her short-cropped hair. “I thought we were going to meet at your place after your speech,” Eve said.

He turned to face her. Eve’s breath caught in her throat. It was clear he was angry. But beyond that, she saw something else in his eyes. Hurt? Indecision? Regret? What was it?

“You’re VeggieLuv, aren’t you?” he asked, walking toward her.

Eve heard a gasp slip from her lips and she quickly scrambled for an explanation. Though the Web site was easy to access, what were the chances that he’d stumble upon it by himself? Someone must have told him. But who?

“Are you?” Charlie asked. He held up his hand, silencing her reply. “Never mind. You don’t need to tell me. It’s good to know how you really feel about me.”

“How I felt,” Eve said. “Past tense. I wrote that a year ago. After my divorce. And after a very large bottle of wine and a big dose of self-pity.”

“You know what? You’re right. You were right about it all. I can’t commit. I can’t bring myself to consider the possibility that there might be just one woman out there for me. One woman who I’ll spend the rest of my life loving.”

“I never asked you for a commitment,” Eve said. “Just the opposite. You are who you are, and I’ve accepted that.”

“Don’t,” he said. “Because the guy I used to be was a first-rate ass.” He raked his hands through his hair. “But it’s really good to know how you feel about me.”

“That was then,” Eve said. “My feelings have changed…considerably.”

“How considerably?” he demanded.

“A lot,” she said. “I understand now why you had to leave and I don’t blame you. It was my fault. I wanted a commitment and you weren’t ready for that. I knew that going in but I thought I could change you. That’s what every woman thinks. But I was wrong.”

“So you wanted to make me a better man?”

“Yes,” she said. Eve sighed. “No. Just my version of a good man. But don’t you see, we’re both in the same place now? That’s good, right?”

“And what place is that?”

“Neither one of us is looking for anything permanent. We’re just going to enjoy ourselves for as long as you stay and when it’s time to say goodbye, there will be no regrets.”