Suddenly Last Summer (16 page)

“Not a problem for me, but it will bother the other diners, so you can shower and change and turn up looking like Sean and not like—like—”

“Like?”

“Like you do.” Gorgeous. Dangerous.

He leaned closer to her. “Nine o’clock, Élise. That gives you time to finish whatever it is you need to finish and still be awake. I’ll cook. We’ll have dinner on the deck.”

She forced herself to breathe.

He’d been under her nose for days and it was slowly driving her crazy and now he wanted to spend the evening with her, too? And nine o’clock would mean eating dinner by moonlight and that was far too romantic.

She didn’t do romantic.

“You’ve done a great job on the deck but it’s teeming with people getting ready for Saturday and frankly—”

“I didn’t mean this deck. I’ve had enough of staring at this deck. I meant your deck. At Heron Lodge.”

Her deck?

Her territory. That was even more dangerous.

He was killing her excuses one by one, cutting them down as if they were trees in the forest blocking his path. And he did it with a smiling charm that assaulted her willpower and left her mind reeling.

Because she knew people were listening, she stepped out onto the deck so that there was no chance they could be overheard. “That’s kind of you, but I really don’t think—”

“Nine o’clock.” He turned and walked away from her, treating her to a glorious full-on view of those wide muscular shoulders.

“Holy crap, that man is smoking-hot.” Poppy breathed from behind her. “I think I need a doctor.”

* * *

P
UCCINI
BLARING
FROM
the speakers, Sean drove into the village and picked up the food he wanted, along with a bunch of flowers for his grandmother. Traffic was heavy on the way back to Snow Crystal and he sat in a queue for a while, watching tourists take photographs of the pretty covered bridge with the forest and mountains in the background.

He couldn’t get his grandfather’s words out of his head.

It’s possible for someone to look perfect on the outside but have a lot of damage under the surface.

Back home he found Jackson hunched over a laptop, staring at a spreadsheet. Maple was curled up asleep at his feet.

Sean glanced at him on the way to the fridge. “Does it add up?”

“Nothing ever adds up in this place.”

“But it’s getting better. You’ve still got the regulars coming back. Brenna’s outdoor program seems popular. I can’t believe how much little Sam has grown.”

“Yeah, he’s a great kid. I remember the year Gramps gave him those little skis Tyler had when he was three. His face was a picture.” Jackson adjusted a couple of numbers. “So how is the deck going? Banged a nail through your finger yet?”

“It’s done.”

Jackson looked up. “I thought you were making it last.”

“Gramps was onto me.”

Jackson leaned back with a grin. “Good to know his brain isn’t damaged. So I bet that was a lively conversation. Did he tell you to leave?”

“No. I got the usual lecture. I should spend more time here. The place is about tradition and families. You know how he is. Puts on the pressure. He did the same thing to Dad all the time.”

Jackson’s smile was replaced with a frown. “Sean—”

Before he could finish speaking the door opened and Kayla walked in. “Honey, I’m home.” Her singsong voice was loaded with suggestive humor. “The interview went well. Prepare yourself for— Oh—” She broke off, embarrassed, as she noticed Sean. “Hi. I didn’t know you were here. Sorry.”

Relieved she’d interrupted because the last thing he wanted was to have a conversation about his father, Sean smiled at her. “Don’t mind me.”

Her blond hair was fastened in a clip on top of her head and she was wearing heels and a pencil skirt. She looked sleek and professional.

New York,
Sean thought. Not Snow Crystal.

How the hell was she going to adapt to living in this place? At the moment she had the best of both worlds. She was living two lives, the only compromise being her energy levels. Like him, she’d been totally committed to her job. Until she’d met Jackson.

What would happen when she’d been here awhile? One day she’d wake up and realize what she’d sacrificed and then the resentment would start. Slowly at first, but then building into a dangerous ball of regret and bitterness.

Jackson flipped the lid of the laptop shut. “Goodbye, Sean, great seeing you. Drop by again sometime. Preferably Christmas.”

“I could join you for dinner.”

“Dinner is going to be takeout pizza in bed. You’re not invited.” Jackson walked across to Kayla, hauled her against him and kissed her soundly.

“Pizza?” Sean shuddered. “That’s the best you can do when you’re trying to impress a woman in bed?”

“We’re carb loading to give us energy.”

Sean decided to have some fun. “I could do with some carb loading after all the energy I expended on your deck. Want me to order?”

Jackson lifted his mouth from Kayla’s long enough to shoot him a threatening glance. “I thought pizza was beneath you?”

“Suddenly I feel like eating dinner with you. Brotherly bonding.”

Kayla eased out of Jackson’s arms. “What a perfect idea.”

Jackson scowled. “What’s perfect about it?”

“Sean is welcome to stay for dinner.” Kayla walked over to Sean, a mischievous smile on her face. “I’d like you to, really. Forget pizza, I’ll cook something special. Something you’ll never forget. I insist. It’s been a while since I spent any time in a kitchen but I think I can remember where it is.”

The two brothers exchanged glances.

Jackson grinned and folded his arms. “Great idea. Stay for dinner, Sean. Kayla will cook.”

It was an ongoing joke that Kayla’s significant abilities didn’t extend to the kitchen and Sean backed toward the stairs, hands raised.

“Hey, my specialty is orthopedics, not toxicology.”

“Are you insulting my wife-to-be?”

“No. I’m insulting her cooking.”

“I’m wounded—” Kayla batted her eyelids. “And I was going to cook you something extra special. An experiment.”

“All right, you win. I’ll leave the two of you alone. Watching you together puts me off my food, anyway.”

Leaving them to focus on each other he showered, borrowed another shirt from Jackson’s room and then pulled out the bags of food he’d bought earlier, along with a bottle of chilled wine.

Kayla looked at the wine and the bags of food. “Where are you taking those?”

Sean paused. If he told them he was planning on seeing Élise they’d turn it into something more. “Thought I’d have a picnic.” It sounded as ridiculous to him as it obviously did to his brother.

“Yeah,” Jackson drawled, “because we all know what a ‘picnic’ person you are. Nothing you like more than ants in your food and mud on your pants.”

“I never said anything about ants or mud. I’ll see you both later.” Ignoring the sarcasm, Sean strolled to the door. He opened it, thinking he’d got away with it when Kayla’s voice stopped him.

“Why don’t you just call Élise and book a table in the restaurant? She’d be happy to cook you something, I’m sure.” The words were innocent enough but something in her tone made him glance over his shoulder at the woman who would soon be his sister-in-law.

Jackson frowned. “He can’t do that. It’s Élise’s night off.”

Sean’s eyes met Kayla’s.

She smiled.

She knew.

Jackson’s phone rang and as he turned away to answer it Kayla’s smile widened.

“Have a nice evening, Sean. Enjoy your—er—picnic.”

CHAPTER NINE

W
HAT
DID
A
woman wear for a casual evening with a man she was trying to keep at a distance?

It had taken her an hour to decide. She’d discarded her little black dress—too formal—and her blue sundress—too pretty?

In the end she’d pulled out a pair of jeans she hadn’t worn for at least four years. The weather was too warm for jeans but at least it wouldn’t look as if she’d tried too hard.

Hot and uncomfortable, Élise paced across her tiny kitchen.

She met attractive men all the time. Some of them were even interesting enough to warrant further attention. But never, ever, had she been tempted to take a relationship further. She’d give her company, her food, her laughter and conversation, occasionally her body—but her heart? Just that one time. Never since.

Sean had promised to do the cooking, but to distract herself she’d made an appetizer of
grissini
infused with rosemary and dusted with Parmesan cheese that she was thinking of offering with drinks at the Boathouse.

The scent of baking filled Heron Lodge and soothed her. It reminded her of her childhood. Of her mother.

She felt a pang and wished for a moment that she could turn the clock back. That she could have her time again and make different decisions.

She wanted to grab the rebellious, wild, eighteen-year-old version of herself and shake her.

Because she occasionally liked to remind herself of what was important, she reached for the photograph she kept on the window in the kitchen.

A beautiful woman smiled down at the toddler who stood on a stool next to her, whisking ingredients in a bowl, smiling back.

The photo gave no hint of what was to follow.

Pain and guilt clawed at her but then she heard Sean call her name and put the photograph back carefully so it was in its place when he appeared at her door.

“I thought I’d make plenty of noise this time so you couldn’t accuse me of trying to scare you. Something smells good. You weren’t supposed to be cooking. Not that I’m complaining.” He strolled into the kitchen, two bags in his arms. He sent her a lazy, sexy glance that sent her tummy spinning and her pulse pumping.

The suit he’d worn on his mad dash from the hospital had been replaced by a pair of worn jeans and another of Jackson’s shirts. She decided he looked equally good in both.

“This is just an appetizer. You can tell me what you think.”

“I think I’m going to move in here.” He put the bags on the counter and helped himself to the freshly baked
grissini.
“They look like the ones I ate in Milan. Another experiment?”

“It’s just something simple. I love working with dough.”

“You work too hard.”

“Cooking never feels like work. It clears my head and helps me relax.” And right now, with Sean standing in her kitchen, she needed all the help she could get with that.

He snapped the breadstick, tasted it and gave a moan of masculine appreciation that connected with her insides. “This is better than anything I tasted in Italy.”

“It’s the quality of the ingredients. Local flour and rosemary grown outside your mother’s kitchen window.”

She wasn’t used to seeing a man in her home. In her kitchen. This was her space and she treasured it, protected it and, most important of all, felt safe in it.

Right now she didn’t feel safe at all.

His hair was slick and damp from the shower, his jaw freshly shaven.

Jackson and Sean were identical twins and yet to her there were obvious differences. Sean’s face was a little leaner and he wore his hair shorter. She suspected some might find him a little more intimidating, his smile a little less ready. He was certainly more complicated.

Or maybe it was her feelings that were more complicated.

Deciding that she didn’t want to examine that idea too closely, Élise pulled a couple of plates from the cupboard.

“It’s a beautiful evening. Let’s go out on the deck.” It would feel less crowded. Less intimate.

“First I need to cook the steak and prepare the salad.” Sean opened a bottle of wine and poured her a glass. “Try this. It’s Californian.”

She sipped and gave a nod of approval. “It’s good.”

“I picked it up in the village when I was buying a few things for Grams. She sent her thanks to you for filling their freezer, by the way. That was kind of you. You didn’t have to do that.”

“Why? Because I’m not family?” The rush of emotion knocked her off-balance like a gust of wind and she knew it was because she’d been looking at that photo. “To me they are like family. And nothing is more important than caring for people you love.”

He reached for a skillet. “I wasn’t questioning your affection for them or your relationship. Simply observing that between the restaurant and the café you already have more than enough to do.”

And she’d overreacted. She could see it in his eyes.

She wondered what it was about this man that brought out the worst in her. She’d tried to tame that part of herself and had thought she’d succeeded.

Until Sean.

Miserably aware that where he was concerned her emotions were all over the place, she walked across the kitchen and found him a bowl for the salad. Her insides churned like an ice-cream maker. “I’ll make a dressing.”

“I already made one. You can relax.”

Relaxing wasn’t an option so she drank her wine and watched as he unwrapped two steaks and heated oil. It was a simple enough meal but still it was all too domestic and for a moment Élise stood there, frozen by her own memories.

Which made no sense because her one tarnished experience of domesticity had looked nothing like this.

He flipped the steaks expertly and threw her a glance. “What am I doing wrong?”

“Nothing. I didn’t know you could cook.”

“I don’t think you’d describe this as cooking, would you?” His mouth was a sensual curve. “I live alone and despite what I tell my grandfather I don’t always want to eat in the hospital, in restaurants or get takeout so I taught myself the basics. And, of course, it’s useful for impressing women.”

“And does it work?”

“Taste it and tell me.” He plated up the steaks and salad. “I bought most of this from the farm shop on my way back from the hospital. There’s a fresh loaf in the bag.”

She placed the bread on a wooden board and cut through it, examining the texture with a nod of approval. “They have wonderful stuff. We serve their jams in the restaurant, although Elizabeth is working on a new Snow Crystal recipe. It’s going to be spectacular.”