Wendy Etherington - If the Stiletto Fits...

James pulled one of the iron bar stools away from the black-tiled counter and slid onto it. “Sure.”

Mildly surprised—he no doubt considered this a business conversation, not a social occasion—she handed him the glass, then selected another one for herself.

“What’s up?” she asked after her first sip. “There’s not a problem with the Spectacular, is there?”

He took a healthy sip of wine. “No.”

Again, with the serious tone. Curious, but not alarmed—James could get uptight on occasion—Lily snacked on her pizza. “Hungry?”

He leaned forward, peering at the slices. “Pizza?”

She grinned. “It pairs well with the chardonnay.”

After another sip of wine, he folded his hands on the counter. “I’m not really sure how to say this, so I guess I’ll just blurt it out.”

Her stomach tightened. Something was wrong. Had orders drastically fallen off? Maybe Bloomingdale’s and Neiman Marcus had both pulled their business. “Okay.”

He met her gaze. “I’m retiring.”

She angled her head. “From what?”

“My job. This job. I’m going to finish the last three months of our contract, then I’m—”

“You’re quitting.”

LILY’S HEAD actually spun. She gripped the counter for support. He couldn’t—he wouldn’t—

“I know this comes as a shock,” he said gently. “I’d really planned to retire last year, about the time you came along with your offer. But your business seemed like such a challenge, and I just couldn’t resist.”

Her mama had always said she should have had “Born to be a Diva” tattooed on her butt the moment she was born. And she could feel a massive fit coming on hard. He couldn’t do this to her. He was deserting. “Old people retire! You’re, you’re—”

“Thirty-two. But I’m financially set, and I’m ready to get out of the city, out of the rush and craze. I’m ready to settle down. I’m going to Connecticut and open a café.”

“Connecticut!” She paced across the tiled kitchen floor. “What’s so freakin’ great about Connecticut?”

“It’s quiet and relaxing. I’ve already bought the farm. You should see it.”

Lily ground to a halt. This was a nightmare. “You bought a farm? Like with cows and chickens and stuff?”

He smiled and looked thoughtful. “No animals yet, but there are stables, so I guess I’ll get some horses. Or maybe I’ll breed dogs. Cocker spaniels or Labradors.”

She tried to picture James, suit-and-tie-at-every-hour-of-the-day-and-night James, rolling around a stable with a litter of baby cocker spaniels. Nope. The picture just wouldn’t focus.

She’d spent more than half her life on a farm. Her father had grown corn, which he’d sold to make ethanol, and her mother had believed in growing or raising nearly everything they consumed.

The work was backbreaking, hard and mostly thankless. Tractors were expensive and hard to maintain. You were always at the mercy of the weather. Chickens stank. Cows had to be led around by the nose, or they’d get struck by lightning during thunderstorms.

Suave, urban James had absolutely no idea what he was getting into.

Lily wanted to panic. Or scream. She was hitting her creative peak thanks to him. She never had to worry about the business details, because she knew he’d take care of them. He was critical to her business, to her life. She absolutely couldn’t run either of them without him.

“James, you can’t do this. I need you.”

“You’ll be fine. You were fine before I arrived.”

She shook her head, rushing toward him, tempted to jump across the bar and into his lap and bodily force him to stay. “I wasn’t fine. I was a mess. I went through two assistants in four months before you came. Before that, I was alone and clueless.”

“I’ll help you find someone else. Someone who’s reliable and understands you.”

Knowing she was acting like an idiot but not caring, she poked out her bottom lip. “I want you.”

His eyes softened. “You don’t need me, though.”

“Yes, I—”

“I have to go, Lily.” James stood, shoving his hand through his hair as he turned away, walking across the room toward the windows. “I had plans for my life. Plans that didn’t include managing spoiled movie stars and out-of-control divas.” He glanced at her over his shoulder. “No offense.”

She nearly crushed the stem of her wineglass. “Oh, gee, thanks.”

He turned back to the view. Darkness had fully enveloped the sky, so the buildings were just a shadowy outline dotted with millions of lights. She knew without standing beside him what he saw when he looked down—the cabs and limos crawling through the streets, the rectangular grid of office buildings set against the silhouette of high-rises, throngs of pedestrians moving like a single determined wave across intersections.

“I’d always planned to go to culinary school,” he said quietly. “Or business school. Instead, I wound up managing my parents’ crazy career, then their friends’, then I became successful and settled on just one client at a time. I was paid well. I enjoyed the change of balancing such a complicated mix of business interests. Even life in jaded, beautiful L.A. was fun once.

“But I want out of the race. I want something else. I want to pick up my life where it veered off course fifteen years ago.”

She understood probably better than anybody how the need to fulfill your dreams was a vital part of life. But she was desperate to hold on to her own dream, and she needed James to do it. He couldn’t possibly have thought this through. He didn’t realize what he was leaving.

Shoving her wine aside, she stalked toward him. “Why a café? Hell, Starbucks is the wildest place in town.”

“My café will be more like a gathering place for the locals. You can read the paper. Exchange news and gossip. Maybe I’ll invite book clubs to meet in the evenings. I could learn to make bread and show off my famous cheesecake recipe.”

Lily darted around him and planted her hands on her hips. “You can make cheesecake?” she accused in a dangerous whisper. She was holding on to her temper by a thread. Fear was desperately trying to push its way through her body. And, at the core of it all, she just plain didn’t understand why. Why did he want to leave? How could he?

He glanced down at her, his eyes bright with affection. “I’ll make you the chocolate-turtle one before I go.”

The resolved expression on his face made her throat start to close, and not even the promise of cheesecake could cheer her. Her mind darted about for another logical argument. That was the way to get to him. She didn’t think he’d respond to tears or terror. “Why Connecticut?” she managed to ask in a strained voice. “You could open a café in the city. We could hire an assistant for you here. You could stay in charge but have more help.”

“The commotion of the city is what I’m trying to escape.” He lifted his hand as if he might stroke her cheek, then let his arm fall back by his side. “It’s not you, Lily, I promise.”

Her hands shook, but she grabbed his arm, turning him toward the windows. Tapping the glass, she asked, “Can you really leave that view, that energy, behind? God, James, I want to shake you. The city is the most amazing place on earth. When you have perfection, how could you possibly ask for more?”

“You grew up with trees and wide-open spaces. Stars you can see clearly at night. No subway or pollution in sight. How could you possibly ask for more?”

“I grew up in the boondocks! Have you ever tried to get a decent cappuccino on a farm?”

“I’ll make my own.”

“What about restaurants and takeout?”