Har. Har. Striving for the high road, she smiled. “I’m a big fan of Best Life’s sunscreen. Use it every day.”
Rebecca beamed. “I love to talk to fans of the brand. Tell me, Laurie, what do you do?”
She really needed to work out a pat answer to this question. “I’m kind of…figuring out my next move, professionally.”
“Oh. Did you recently graduate?”
Kate tried to help by explaining. “Laurie owned Babycakes, Mom.”
Rebecca’s brows drew together. “Babycakes?”
“A bakery,” Laurie supplied.
Her forehead smoothed. She pressed a hand to her chest, and laughed. “That explains why I’m clueless. Best Life is a health-conscious brand, and I’m the face of it, so I try to avoid temptation. Offering our customers positive, nourishing ways to enhance life has always been an integral part of our mission statement.”
Of course it was. Selling sugary carbs probably ranked right up there with dealing crack in Rebecca Booker’s estimation. Hell, she might as well have worn a bathrobe and handcuffs tonight, because despite her little black dress and counterfeit pearls, she still came off as an outsider. A tacky outsider. She dredged up a smile and tried for a breezy reply. “I guess it’s a good thing Babycakes isn’t around to tempt you.”
Nope. Not breezy. Awkward.
And Rebecca picked up on it. “I wouldn’t go that far. My willpower works, most of the time, but when it weakens, I bolster myself with a treat from the new line of organic dark chocolates we’re launching. Be sure to try them.” She pointed to the table set up in one corner of the room. “We use only fair-trade cocoa, and don’t pollute the flavor with a bunch of sugar or other additives. The end result is pure, luxurious chocolate loaded with antioxidants, and—”
“Mom, it’s a party, not a product meeting,” Kate said.
Rebecca laughed. “I’m not going to apologize. You know how passionate I am about Best Life.” She zeroed in on Laurie and added, “People should spend their energy doing what fulfills them. Did you get burned-out on running your own business, or…?”
The unconsciously ironic question shattered her brittle self-control. Inappropriate and slightly hysterical laughter burst out of her. Everybody in the vicinity glanced her way, including Miranda McQueen and a clutch of her cronies, who turned up their sculpted noses and whispered behind their hands. She could practically hear the commentary. Her? She’s nobody. Booker’s Nido Terrace sex toy, thinking she’s going to elevate her status.
Booker slid an arm around her shoulder before saying, “The bakery burned down New Year’s Day.”
“Oh, dear.” Concern filled Rebecca’s eyes. “I hope nobody was hurt.”
The words served as a reminder of how much worse things could have been, and helped dispel her laughter. “Thankfully, no. We were closed for the holiday. I was lucky.”
Rebecca nodded, and opened her mouth to respond, but her at
tention snagged on something over Booker’s shoulder, and her gaze sharpened. “Uh-oh. Aunt Sarah is sipping her second cocktail and circling the bartender like a shark. Richard, we’d better get over there.”
“I’m on it. Nice to meet you, Laurie.”
“Have fun,” Rebecca directed the rest of them, as she turned to follow her husband. “Don’t forget to try the chocolate. Oh, and Laurie, be sure to find me before you leave. I have something for you.”
“Sure,” she replied, a little thrown by the request, although Rebecca walked away like a woman accustomed to people doing as she asked. Laurie slowly exhaled and eyed Booker. “That went well.”
Aaron laughed. “Are you kidding? That was brilliant. I made the mistake of wearing a leather jacket the first time I met Rebecca—which also happened to be my first day on the job at Best Life. By the time she’d finished her animal rights lecture I wanted to curl up into a fetal position on the conference room floor and cry.”
“You grew to love her,” Kate insisted, and took his hand.
He lifted their joined hands, and kissed hers. “I grew to love you. Rebecca, Richard, and this tosser just happen to come part and parcel.”
“Aw. Isn’t he sweet?” Kate wrapped her arms around Aaron’s neck, went up on her tiptoes, and kissed him.
“And now I want to curl up into a fetal position and cry,” Booker said drily, and pulled her toward the other side of the room. “Welcome to my nightmare, Jailbait. Can I get you a drink?”
“Absolutely. But point me to the powder room first.” She needed a moment to fortify her armor before she circulated, in part because she found Rebecca Booker’s attitude hard to pin down. She’d prepared for the three D’s—disapproval, distrust, and disdain—and instead she’d gotten…well…she didn’t know. And the uncertainty unnerved her. Booker directed her toward a hallway, told her “Second door on the right,” and kissed her soundly. She staggered off with the heat from his lips tingling on hers.
The powder room door opened as she approached, and she ended up face-to-face with Miranda. The woman looked at her like something that crawled out of an alley. “Oh my, if it isn’t the baker. How…interesting to see you here.”
This attitude she knew well enough, and she refused to let the old blueblood intimidate her. She crossed her arms and cocked her hip. “I always try to be interesting.”