Angel-chan: Okay I'm so, so sorry for not updating yesterday I was planning to but when I was about to I remembered I had to give you guys picture's on the clothing everyone was wearing in this chapter.
Souko: The dress I'm wearing is simply wonderful *smiles*
Ikuto: Mo-Mother? What are you doing here?
Amu: Ah~ Ms. Souko it is nice to meet you.
Souko: Oh Amu dear I have heard many nice things about you from Ikuto-kun. And I have to say you are as beautiful as he said you are.
Amu: *blushes* Ah th-thank you.
Ikuto: Mother!
Angel-chan: *laughs* hahaha I can't believe that just happened
Souko: * smiles*
Ikuto: *blushes* argh!
Angel-chan: Anyways I am happy to know you like your dress Souko
Souko: You have taste dearie.
Angel-chan: Thank you *smiles* Okay before we get to the story and the review replies I want to let you guys know that if you go to my profile you'll fine a link to the pictures of what the characters are wearing. Now then Review Replies:
24kk: *smiles* hahah I thought the character of the the book was going to go bitch mode too.
101 PrettyKitty: *smiles* I'm over joyed to see that you love the last chapter.
UnluckyJinx: Thank you but I can't take the credit on writing this story. *smiles*
Squirtlepokemon215: Hahaha when I read your review I laughed so much that you made my day *smiles*
Kururu-senpai: eh~! You live somewhere where it snow! Lucky! …Lol when I read your review I also laughed I mean who wouldn't want to take Ikuto-kun's offer x3
Spunky Kitten: I know right x3
CheddurLeHomicidalButler: Lol Straight to the point *smiles* Hehe Don't worry if I use a lot more French then that trust me you can even confirm it with my friends *giggles*And no I really don't know what they say about opinions.
-When reading your second review I was laughing so hard that my parents were looking at me like I had lost my mind. And don't worry you can rant all you want. I always did like reading what people have in their minds *smiles*.
Alright then that were all the reviews now then if you do not mind would you like doing the disclaimers please Souko.
Souko: It would be my pleasure. xXxStrawberryAngelxXx does not own anything but herself. *smiles*
Angel-chan: Well enjoy.
Chapter 7
4:45 p.m.
Amu rested her head against the high lip of the claw-foot tub and sighed. The air in the bathroom was steamy with the tart scent of cherry blossoms. The water swirling around her tired body was thick with fragrant bubbles.
Downstairs, the third batch of chocolate cake layers was chilling in the refrigerator. She did not trust Elda not to sabotage her cake yet again, but Ikuto had promised to protect it with her life. He had a way with Elda.
He had a way with Amu, too, she admitted. More than the lavish décor of this bathroom, more than his generosity in opening a bedroom suit for her, more than his insistence on guarding her chocolate cake…Oh, yes, Ikuto had a way with her.
The scented bubbles of her caressed her flesh and made her think of him. The warmth of the water melted her tension the way his hands had when he had rubbed the small of her back. The rising vapor whispered across her skin the way his breath had an instant before he had kissed her.
And kissed her. And kissed her.
She forced her eyes open and looked around once more, taking note of every luxurious detail in the room. This was what Aruto Ikuto Tsukiyomi IV was all about. She must not let herself forget that.
Pandemonium reigned downstairs, but tucked away in her cozy second-floor retreat she was completely shut off from the musicians setting up on the balcony, the bartenders in the solarium, the waiters, the grounds crew stringing spotlights along the driveway. She could not hear anything but an occasional bubble braking against her chin.
So much still to do the cake to frost, the entrees to heat, the appetizers to arrange on trays. But all she wanted to do was soak in the tub, imagining what her life could have been like if what Ikuto's mother had said about love at first sight were true. She closed her eyes again and fantasized that the warm, lulling water was Ikuto's fingertips, stroking her, enveloping her breasts and rippling between her thighs. She moaned aloud. "Amu? Are you all right?"
Oh, God!
She pushed herself to sit, causing the water to splash against the side of the tub. The frothy sub parted to reveal her breast, and she quickly sank below the water again and stared in panic at the narrow space where the bathroom door stood ajar. "Ikuto?"
"Are you okay? I heard you—" He pulled the door open, saw that she was perfectly okay, as well as very wet and naked, and slammed the door shut. His eyes burned an afterimage into her mind, wide and surprised… and unmistakably appreciative His eyes burned an afterimage into her mind, wide, surprised…, and unmistakably appreciative.
"Sorry," he called from the other side of the door, sounding not the least bit sorry. "I came upstairs to tell you Elda thinks she should start heating the ovens. I wanted to check with you. And I heard—well, it sounded like you were in pain."
She recalled the tortured moan that had escaped her—and the tortured thoughts that had prompted it. She supposed there was a kind of pain involved in what she had been feeling. And she was not about to share those feeling with Ikuto.
"I'm just a little tired," she called through the closed door. "What time is it?"
"Quarter to five."
That gave her an hour and fifteen minutes until the first guest arrived. "Tell Elda she can start the oven at five-thirty." She had plenty of time to the canapés, then the entrees for seven-thirty dinner.
"All right." He hesitated. "I'm going to have to go home soon. I have to change into a monkey suit for this gig."
Amu conjured a mental picture of Ikuto in a tuxedo, his long legs flattered by crisp black trousers, his broad shoulders filling and elegant evening jacket, his collar accented by the bow tie. Not one of those big foppish bowties, she hoped, but something sleek and sexy.
"You'd better go," she called to him, party in self-defense. Imagining him in his evening clothes—or more accurately, imagining him tugging loose whatever tie he had on and then undoing the collar of his dress shirt, kicking off his shoes…It was all she could do to keep from moaning again.
She had put him out of her mind. She had to focus on the cotillion and nothing else. That was what mattered: catering a great party and boosting her company's reputation. Ikuto was a diversion, an infatuation. Their lives had intersected today, but tomorrow they would go their separate ways. Unless he had been serious about finding her a silent partner. In which case they might have a few professional dealings nothing more.
"I'll see you later," he shouted through the door. She had to strain to hear his footsteps crossing the bedroom to the hall. For a crazed moment, she had wanted to call him back, to invite him into the bathroom, into the tub with her. If tomorrow they were doomed to become business acquaintance, they could still have tonight. No, they could not. Tonight she had to do her job so magnificently Ikuto would have no trouble finding financial backers for her. And then she could set up shop downtown, as he had suggested, and put up a big bright sign in front and hire an assistant.
That was what she should be dreaming about, she decided Rose Petal Banquets not a rose petal man.
Bisoux De Chocolat
The smell of chocolate cake lingered in the kitchen. Amu's valentine-shaped pans lay scoured and sparkling in the drying rack beside that double-basin sink. Elda was seated in her armchair near the window, thumbing through a magazine, her face set in a grim frown.
"The ovens go on at five-thirty," Ikuto, surveying the orderly room on his room on his way to the back door.
Elda nodded without looking up.
"Amu will be down in a while."
Again, a surly nod.
"Elda," Ikuto hunkered down next to her chair and pulled the magazine out of her hands, forcing her attention to him. "Why are you being so grouchy?"
"I'm not being grouchy," Elda retorted. "Just because she came in here and took over my kitchen and the she went parading around the ballroom with that ridiculous cake—"
"It was a beautiful cake. Angel special-ordered it. And Amu's just doing her job."
"I don't like her job," Elda blurted out. "It used to be "It used to my job. No one ever asked me to make cakes like that."
"Oh, Elda…" He clasped her hands within his. "No one can replace you, you know that. But you are retired. You have earned the right to take it easy. I just want you to kick back and enjoy yourself."
"I see that girl working in my kitchen," Elda complained, "and she's doing everything different from the way I did it."
"She's a different person. She does things her own way."
Elda's eyes narrowed on him. "You've got the hots for her."
He grinned unapologetically. "Is it that obvious?"
"I'll grant you, she's young and pretty. But she is hot a chip on her shoulder, Ikuto. She doesn't understand the Tsukiyomi way of doing things."
"Neither do I, sometimes," Ikuto confessed.
"Frankly, I'm kind of interested in the Hinamori way of doing things."
"You should find a girl from your own world, Ikuto."
"I should find a woman I admire —and love," he said, half to himself. Straightening up, he walked to the refrigerator, opened it and sneaked two chocolate kissed out of the bowl. He gave one to Elda. "Taste that," he ordered, "and see if you still don't like Amu."
Eyeing him suspiciously, Elda bit into the chocolate. Her eyes grew round, he jaw grew slack and she popped the rest of the candy into her mouth and sucked on her fingers. "Oh, my," she said weakly. "That's something."
"It's something, all right."
"What did she put in there?"
"Magic," he joked.
"I can see why you're in love," Elda said, reaching for the candy in his hand. "Give me another."
Ikuto shook his head. "This one's for me. Treat her nicely, Elda, and maybe she'll give you a few herself."
"Well…I suppose I can tolerate her for an evening." Elda conceded gruffly, although her smile remained, along with a trace of chocolate on her teeth. 'Go home and get dressed. I'll make sure her cakes stay in one piece."
"Thanks." Ikuto winked and head for the door. Not until he was outside did he eat the chocolate kiss he had taken for himself. He bit into and was reminded of his brief glimpse of Amu's body beneath the rainbow-flecked bubbles in the tub, her hair pinned up and glistening with drops of water, her face dewy her throat pale and her eyes as golden brown as the bright heavens.
His body grew hard as he swallowed the kiss, hungry for more kisses, her kisses. If Amu's chocolate could win Elda's grudging respect, it was no wonder it won Ikuto's respect—to say nothing of his lust.
Tomorrow, he promised himself they'd get through this ridiculous party tonight, and tomorrow he and Amu could really get down to business.
Bisoux De Chocolat
The oven was not on.
Amu had entered the kitchen dressed in her black wool sheath—with a full-length apron over it—her comfortable low-heeled black pumps and plain gold earring. She was ready to frost her chocolate cake.
She was also ready to forge a truce with Elda White. But Elda was not there.
Amu checked the wall clock. The ovens should have begun preheating by now. She twisted the dial on one, listening for the click and the woof of the gas vents igniting.
Nothing.
She twisted the dial again, off and then on, off and on…Nothing.
No, she gasped under her breath. Enough things had gone wrong for one job—for one lifetime. She had had a near accident, smashed two cakes and fallen in love.
And now this.
The oven had been working earlier. What happened?
She raced down the hall in search of help and spotted Elda near the open front door. "Elda!" Amu cried, abandoning her pride. "Elda! The main oven isn't working."
"Don't be silly," Elda, clucked. "You obviously don't know how it works."
Amu held her tongue. "Maybe you could turn it on for me," she said sweetly, not daring to risk the woman's wrath. Who knew what she might sabotage if she decided, once again, that she hated Amu?
"It's that damned pilot light," came a familiar voice from outside the front door. "I'll take care it." In swept Ikuto's mother, dressed in an elegant burgundy gown spangled with seed pearls. She passed her mink cape to one of her door attendants and sent Amu a smile of sheer delight. "Don't you look lovely!"
Amu glanced down at her pinafore apron and her plain black dress. If anyone looked lovely, it was Mrs. Tsukiyomi.
The sight of Ikuto's mother in a dress that probably cost an amount equal to Rose Petal Banquets catering bill for the cotillion took Amu aback. She struggled to recall the robust, down-to-earth woman she and Ikuto had visited earlier. The statuesque woman who stood before Amu now was every inch the town matriarch, her makeup impeccable, each strand of hair meticulously placed. Diamond-encrusted maybe pearls clung to her earlobes and her wrist was circled by a tennis bracelet so thick it probably weights more than a tennis racquet.
"If it's just a pilot light," Amu said deferentially, "I'm sure I relight it."
"Nonsense," Mrs. Tsukiyomi said. "Even Elda can't relight it. My dear, departed husband could not relight it. I am the only person who knows how to relight it." Amu shot Elsa a quizzical look. Elda confirmed Mrs. Tsukiyomi's remark with a nod.
"Now, if you want to serve hot foot, let's get the thing lit." Mrs. Tsukiyomi strode across the entry to the hall.
Amu hurried to catch up with her. "Are you sure you want to do this, Mrs. Tsukiyomi?"
"I've been blessed with a certain talent for repairing ovens," Mrs. Tsukiyomi said. "It would be as wasteful for me to deny my talent as it would be for you to deny yours."
"Mine?"
"Those cookies. They were superb, my dear. I hope Ikuto paid you a fortune for them."
Amu did not bother to set Mrs. Tsukiyomi straight. Ikuto's mother was pushing up her sleeves with her gusto of someone about to join a bar brawl. "Here, hold these for me," she said, removing her tennis bracelet and pearl-and-platinum ring. Before Amu could stop her, she had pulled the wires shelves out of the top oven and leaned into the oven chamber.
"Mrs. Tsukiyomi—"
A loud clanking noise emerged from the back of the oven.
"Mrs. Tsukiyomi, I think—"
"Stubborn little valve," Mrs. Tsukiyomi growled, pulling her head and shoulders out of the oven. He hair was mussed her eyes glowing with purpose. "I'll need a screwdriver."
"Mrs. Tsukiyomi, you shouldn't be doing this. It's such a special night—"
"I am not going to eat raw veal," Mrs. Tsukiyomi declared yanking open a drawer and removing a screwdriver.
"Couldn't we call a repairman?"
"At five-thirty on a Saturday night?" He'd charge an arm and leg." She climbed back into the oven and tackled the broken valve.
Amu gazed at the jewelry in her hand. It had probably cost enough arms and legs to fund an Olympics swim team.
"Mother!" Angel Moon screeched as she bounded into the room. Her dress, a Pamella Roland black brocade gown, was less regal but probably more expensive than Mrs. Tsukiyomi's. Her hair was a frightful array of curls; her throat was strung with so many gold necklaces free of its leash. "Mother, get out of the oven right now!"
"I'll get out when I'm ready to get out," Mrs. Tsukiyomi said, her voice emerging from the oven in a distorted echo. "Amu, dear, I need a different screwdriver, a Phillip's head. In that drawer. An adjustable wrench too. There should be one in there."
Amu glanced at Angel, who was wringing her hands. "Why is my mother in the oven?"
"She's trying to get the pilot light started."
"And why is there only one cake on display in the ballroom? We're supposed to have two."
"The other one isn't frosted yet," Amu explained.
"Mother, you're going to ruin your hair," Angel whined as Amu placed tools in Mrs., Tsukiyomi's outstretched hand.
"You can fix it for me," Mrs. Tsukiyomi assured her.
"How is Utau? Excited to death?"
"Utau and her friends are upstairs listening to some grating rap singer. I do not know where she picked up such terrible taste in music. We should never have let her go to California."
No response from Mrs. Tsukiyomi.
Angel turned her sharp eyes on Amu. "Well? Frost the cake!"
Not knowing what else to do, Amu tucked Mrs. Tsukiyomi's bracelet and ring into the pocket of her apron and tackled the cake. Fortunately, she had made extra frosting. As long as Ikuto did not show up and start stealing tastes from the bowl, what she had would cover the entire three layers.
Angel's eyes shuttled from Amu's efficient labor to her mother's visible bottom, shifting and twitching as she piled her tools inside the oven. "I swear," She muttered, "that woman is the most humiliating mother a person could have."
Amu doubted Angel's daughter would agree, but she kept her opinion to herself.
"Aha!" Mrs. Tsukiyomi crowed, at last wriggling out of the oven. "All set. Where are the matches?" The pilot light ignited without an explosion, and Mrs. Tsukiyomi dusted off her hands and smiled smugly.
"You're a mess," Angel said, grabbing her mother by the elbow and hauling her out of the kitchen.
Amu finished frosting the cake, and then slid her trays of stuffed mushrooms into the oven to heat. As she dappled the cake with the chocolate kisses, she felt her pulse rate return to normal. Everything was going to be fine. The party was going to go well. She was going to survive.
Not just, survive—to triumph.
She lifted the cake, started for the door to the hall—, and discovered Ikuto clad in a gray silk tuxedo. His bow tie was muted red, thin, underlining his thin lips. His hair was barely tamed, flowing straight over his collar in the back, and his eyes danced with pleasure as he regarded her.
"You look good," she let slip.
"You looked almost as good as you looked in the bathtub," he told her. She blushed, partly from embarrassment and partly from arousal. "Don't drop the cake," he said, hurrying into the room and taking the tray from her.
"Thanks," she whispered as he set the tray on the counter. "I don't think I can handle another disaster."
"You," he murmured, "can handle anything. That's one of the things I like best about you." He took her hands in his and drew her towards him, lowering his mouth to hers.
She held her breath, waiting for his kiss, needing it. Just as his lips were a whisper away from hers, his sister's voice blasted into the kitchen, preceding the rest of her by a good couple of seconds. "Where are they? All right, I want them now. Where are they?"
Amu sprang back and jerked her hands away from Ikuto's. "Where's what?"
"My mother's jewels."
"Oh—right here," Amu said, pulling the ring and bracelet from her apron pocket.
"Thief!" Angel howled. "She's a thief! Arrest that woman!"
Angel-chan: Finished! *smiles*
Amu: Angel-chan! You called me a thief!
Angel-chan: *sweat drop* sorry Amu-chan You know I would never do that to you plus you know for a fact these aren't my words. Right Souko…
Souko: Of course dear *smiles*
Angel-chan: Plus if Souko was my mother I wouldn't be embarrassed by her I would be proud. *grins*
Ikuto: Sweet ass
Angel-chan: *turns towards to Souko*
Souko: *smiles and nods*
Angel-chan: *smirks and hits Ikuto on the arm*
Ikuto: Ow! What the hell. Mom!
Souko: That's what you get for insulting Angel-chan
Ikuto: *Dumbfounded*
Angel-chan: Ha! Anyway So please R&R everyone
Amu: Oh and tell us what you think is going to happen next in the next chapter
Angel-chan: That's right there are only two more chapter to this story plus the epilogue Which is going to be made by me since there isn't one in the real story. Well till next time! Bye bye!