“She’s mad at us, Winslow. I should have guessed. Fortunately I came prepared.” Walker reached into the duffel he had stowed at the top of the stairs. Once the fuming and pacing stopped inside, he tapped lightly on the door.
“Go away.”
“Fine. But I have something for you. I’ll leave it here, just outside the door. Come on, Winslow.” Walker made loud noises as he walked down the stairs. But he stopped near the bottom, motionless and silent.
The doorknob turned. A hand appeared. Jilly peered out, saw no one on the stairs, and then leaned down to grab the small box tied with a red ribbon. “It won’t work anyway,” she called out. “I don’t trust liars.”
She closed the door. Paper rustled. Walker heard her small sigh.
“No. That’s…not fair.”
“Chiltepins. Nearly the hottest wild peppers known,” Walker said, climbing the stairs. “Extremely rare. Now preserved in the mountains of the Coronado National Forest in southern Arizona.”
“I know what they are,” Jilly called back. “And it doesn’t change a thing.”
The box rustled again. He heard her mutter. “That’s really not fair.”
“Single origin. Fair trade. Organic coffee that’s low in caffeine and acidity. I had some help tracking it down. My father pulled some strings.” Walker grimaced at the memory of that particular conversation. But whatever it cost him would be worth it. “I know how you love your coffee, so I figured you might give it a try.”
“Oh, that’s so dirty.” The door opened slowly. Jilly stared at him, pale and tired and vulnerable. “Fine. You can come in. You can talk. But you only have two minutes.” Her mouth set in a determined line. “Then you have to go.”
“Fair enough. But not until I’ve said the things I came here to say.”
At his side Winslow whined. He strained toward Jilly.
She flushed and then walked back inside, sitting stiffly on the edge of the bed. “Go on. Talk. Just make it fast.”
“Winslow wants to come, too. He’s been restless the whole trip.”
Jilly looked guilty. “Of course he can come in.” She leaned down when Winslow trotted toward her, excitedly bumping her leg. Jilly kissed his head. “Hi, there, honey. Come and sit here beside me. Just for a minute.” But when she looked at Walker, her eyes were cold. “Don’t drag this out. There’s no point, Walker. The performance is over. You don’t fit in my life, and I sure as hell won’t ever fit in yours.”
“Most people would agree with you,” he said quietly. “They look at us and see a wealthy, powerful man with prospects and connections. Then they look at you and see a struggling chef, racing to follow her dreams. Some people would even whisper that I was slumming,” he said harshly.
“They’d be right,” Jilly said.
“No, they’d be as wrong as people could be.” Walker studied her face in the shadows. “Because you’re the wealthy one. You have great friends. You have a job you love. You have a passion you won’t compromise. You’ve had some bumps on the road, but you’re handling it. In fact, you’ve got your whole life in front of you, with no manipulative family. No ghosts you can’t bury,” he said quietly.
“So what does that make you? A poor little rich boy?”
“Just a loner who’s looking for something he never knew he’d missed. Just a man who found himself struck by a force of nature. Because one night a woman with wild dark hair and a big bag of Tastykakes blew into his life. She knocked him down hard and taught him about laughter. About food and friends and real courage. Winslow fell in love with her first.” Walker cleared his throat. “But I wasn’t far behind.”
Winslow raised his head, looking between the two intently.
Jilly raised a hand to her chest. “Don’t, Walker. No more. We both know this will never work. You’re from the big, illustrious Hales of New Hampshire. I haven’t a clue who my parents are and never will. Why don’t you go on back to Lost Creek and get on with your life? I’ll stay here and do the same. Maybe we can exchange cards at Christmas,” she said coldly.
“So you plan to plow right on, pretending we never met, forgetting what we had.”
“What exactly did we have? An evening of laughter. A few minutes of lust. We certainly didn’t have any trust. If we had, you would’ve told me about yourself and your family a whole lot sooner. Instead I had to hear about it from your sister’s angry accusations.”
“I can’t take it back. I wish I could. All I can say is that things happened too fast, Jilly.”
She stood up suddenly, her hands gripping the pillow. “Sorry, not interested.” Her eyes were dark and unreadable. “And your time’s up.” She pointed to the door.
Between them Winslow stood stiffly. He didn’t move, looking confused.
“You’d better take him,” Jilly said hoarsely. “Don’t make it harder.”
“I plan to make it a lot harder,” Walker said. “I love you, Jilly. You can tell me you don’t care, but it would be a lie. And you make a very bad liar. When you touch me, your hands tremble. Your skin glows with heat. You want exactly what I want.”
“Stop,” she whispered.
“And no man will ever touch you the way I do. No man will want you like this. It won’t be smooth or easy, but it will be the most amazing adventure you’ll ever hope to know. I can give you all that.”
She closed her eyes. One hand slid to the bed.
Walker saw her head slide forward as she dug her fingers into Winslow’s fur. “How can it ever work out? We’re from two different planets. I’m afraid…”
“We’ll make it work. We’ll talk it out and get the details right. And then we’ll sink into a big, soft bed and make love until we can’t walk or even breathe.” Walker leaned down and took her hand. “I want you in my life, Jilly. I want forever. No conditions or compromises.”
She looked up.
Her cheeks were slick with tears. But her smile began and slowly grew until it filled her eyes and maybe her whole body. “You’re sure?”
“I never had a single doubt.”
“But I’m—just a cook.”
“You’re the woman I love,” Walker said fiercely.
She whispered his name and slid her arms around his shoulders. “Kiss me, Walker. Take me to bed and let me feel your body. Don’t let me get away this time.”
“Count on it, honey. This one’s forever.”
His mouth met hers, hungry and searching. His hands slid around her waist.
Jilly sighed while her clothes slowly fell onto the floor.
* * *
AN HOUR LATER OLIVIA and Caro returned.
The black SUV was still outside. The lights in the house were all off.
“No broken windows,” Caro said. “No door broken in. Always a good sign.” She slid one arm around Olivia and smiled. “Let’s go over to my grandmother’s house and have chili. Something tells me those two are going to be in there for a very long time.”
EPILOGUE
IT WAS NEARLY DAWN.
Walker had been gone for almost three weeks. Jilly knew his time away had been difficult, including a trip to visit his family in New Hampshire and a thorough medical consultation in Washington. After a trying week, he had flown to Virginia for training work with Winslow.
When car lights turned up the drive near midnight, her white Samoyed had raced outside to greet the tired travelers. Walker’s truck was streaked with dust, and Winslow had bounded out to greet Duffy and then Jilly with enthusiastic canine kisses. Then Winslow and Duffy had raced off for an excited romp on the beach.
The kiss she and Walker had shared left her brain reeling. Even now with a single touch he sent her straight into hormone overdrive. By the time they had rounded up the dogs and unloaded Walker’s bags, Jilly’s head had cleared enough for her to see that he was exhausted.
So she had sent him straight to bed. No arguing allowed.
And he had rested for all of four hours.
When he awoke, he had dragged
her down onto his chest without a word. With calloused hands he settled her against his hard body. Slowly he kissed every inch of her aroused skin, and Jilly had sighed in pleasure.
She held nothing back while need beat a reckless rhythm between them. When Walker turned, pinning her beneath him, Jilly sighed his name. Their joining was hot and fierce. He had brought her to a mindless release and then they had collapsed together, fingers entwined, in the darkness.
Now Jilly stood in her silent kitchen, listening to the waves whisper out in the cove. There was no light yet, but in an hour the sea would be burnished silver, aglow with pink.
This was her favorite time of day, full of possibilities and endless beauty. The world seemed fresh and unspoiled in these moments before dawn, when pink slowly burned away to gold and a new day began.
Today Walker would be here to see it with her.
She had already sent off two long emails that had been weighing on her. In the end she had decided to sell the restaurant in Arizona to her two closest friends from cooking school. They would work out details for the sale in the next few weeks, but meanwhile the business had responsible people who could take charge and make decisions. Jilly had felt a weight removed as soon as she had pressed the send key.
Quietly she moved through the darkness and stood in the doorway while her eyes adjusted to the shadows in her room. Walker was asleep on her bed, the pillow beside him on the floor. Her blue knitted blanket was draped across his chest. One hand was stretched out, as if searching for Jilly’s heat.
Time seemed to stop, and Jilly felt her heart overflow with welcome and joy. This mattered, just as Walker had said it would. He mattered. She accepted that now.
There would be no going back.
Jilly smiled down at the tweed sweater folded in her hands. It had taken her several weeks, but she had managed to sneak his grandfather’s old sweater out of his bag. With the help of Grace and Caro she had mended the snags and carefully reknit the holes at the neck and elbow. It didn’t look new. Nothing could restore the stitches to the way they had looked decades before. But now the mended spots added a sense of age and texture that enhanced the sweater’s beauty. As the tweed brushed her fingers, Jilly realized what she had not seen before, though it had been in front of her all along.
She had mended the old stitches, following their twists and flow, in the process creating a newer, stronger set of attachments. And that was exactly what Walker had done to her. She would never be brand-new, never pristine and unaffected by the challenges of life. Her youth had left her with wounds that would never heal.
But Walker had mended those holes and smoothed the gaps. With his love and his calm strength he had made Jilly whole again. He had taught her how to trust completely for the first time in her life.
Duffy was asleep in his bed in the living room, but she heard the scrape of a metal bowl in the kitchen. Smiling, she peeked around the door and saw Winslow bump his dog dish, their agreed sign that he wanted a run on the beach. Jilly ran her hand along his neck, rubbing the sensitive spot behind his ear, and was rewarded by a little growl of pleasure. Winslow was more active and less stiff now. He could almost keep up with Duffy. Jilly liked to think she had helped make that happen.
Without warning hard hands circled her waist. Warm thighs anchored her hips and she felt Walker’s chest against her back. “Hey. Come back to bed.”
Jilly smiled. “For a recluse, you turned out to be a very sociable guy.”
“So people keep telling me. I owe it all to you.” His hand moved, tracing the curve of her breast. “The moment I saw you raining Tastykakes in the airport, I was lost.”
“Now I understand. You want me for my Tastykakes, is that it?”
“Pretty much. Although there are a few other…attractions.” He leaned down and kissed the rise of her nipple. “As you may have noticed.”
Jilly sighed with pleasure, sliding her hands into his hair. “I’ve missed you so much, Walker.”
He straightened slowly. His eyes gleamed with desire. “So have I, honey. Let’s go back to bed. We have some unfinished business.”
“If we have any more business, I may have to sleep for a week.”
Walker bit the lobe of her ear gently. “That could be arranged.”
“Promises, promises.” Jilly traced his jaw. “How do you turn me inside out like this? When you’re gone for a day, it feels like a lifetime.”
“Only nineteen days.” He rested his chin on her head and slid his arms around her back. “Seven hours and forty minutes,” he muttered. “Not that I was counting or anything.”
He looked down, feeling the tweed sweater crushed between them. “What’s this?”
“Your sweater. The one your grandfather gave you. I—I mended it.”
Walker’s hands moved over the sweater. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know. I wanted it to be a surprise.”
“I don’t know what to say.” Walker’s voice tightened. “I loved the old codger. He was the only one in my family who understood me. And that sweater is the only thing I have of his. Thank you, Jilly.” He brushed a strand of hair from her cheek. “And there’s something else.” He studied their laced fingers. “I love you. I intend to tell you that quite a lot in the future.” His voice turned husky. “I intend to show you, too.”
Jilly closed her eyes as he pulled her closer. “I certainly hope so.” She slanted a slow kiss over his chest. “Have you heard from Mamie? Jonathan said she had a new specialist.”
“It looks like they have an arterial stent lined up. They think it will give her considerable relief. He asked me about that therapy thing you do on my shoulder, too. He wants to learn it. It seems that he caught Mamie cleaning windows again, and it took Red and two more staff to make her stop.”
Jilly shook her head. “That is one strong woman.”
“Yeah. Just like another woman I know,” Walker murmured. “So what did your specialist in Portland have to say after your last visit?”
“It’s…good.” Jilly took a slow breath. “There are more tests to be done, but he thinks that medicine and lifestyle changes will be enough. For now,” she added quietly.
“Now is where it all starts.” Walker’s hands tightened. “That’s the best gift I could have.” His lips curved. “I hope you won’t have to give up your exercise program?” His thighs moved between hers.
“Exercise is important. Medically and psychologically.” Jilly lifted one leg, letting their bodies move in slow seduction. She sighed as need flared.
“Good. Because I had something in mind.” Without a word Walker lifted Jilly and carried her back to bed. Still surrounded by his arms, Jilly sank against his aroused body. Their legs tangled.
She watched dawn paint the hard lines of his face as he studied her in silence. Then he brought their bodies together in a slow, powerful thrust. Jilly’s breath caught.
She realized that Winslow had trotted off to the kitchen. “How did he know that we—well, this? Did you give him some kind of sign?”
Walker kissed the tip of her breast, his hands circling her waist. “Didn’t have to. That dog is smart enough to recognize a field action when he sees one,” Walker said hoarsely.
And then he moved beneath her, filling her perfectly until the air seemed to hum around them, gold and pink and alive as it had never been before.
Jilly brought his hand up, opening it over her heart.
Over the heart that Walker had made whole again.
She whispered his name as she watched the promise of a new day—and a brand-new life—shine from his eyes while they tumbled over the edge of passion together.
* * * * *
Watch for Olivia’s story’s next!
Summer Island’s good girl is finally ready to ditch the past and be a little wild. Who better to teach her than the town bad boy, who’s just come home from Afghanistan?
But Rafe Russo is older and harder now, carrying the scars of too much loss. Oliv
ia soon discovers seducing the new sheriff won’t be easy. But a woman’s gotta do what a woman’s gotta do.
Get ready for a walk on the wild side…
Coming soon from Christina Skye and Harlequin HQN.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Thank you for joining Jilly and Walker on their journey. Strong and stubborn, these two have surprised me at every turn. Somewhere along the path of writing, they claimed a spot among my very favorite characters. (Even though they made me tear at my hair!)
And Winslow…
No words needed there.
He carries his own kind of magic and courage.
I hope that Summer Island continues to touch you as it has touched me, beginning with my story in The Knitting Diaries and again in A Home by the Sea. In those fog-swept coves and quiet streets friendship runs deep.
For readers in search of a detailed look at the inspiration for Jilly’s amazing desserts, try Bittersweet, by Alice Medrich (New York: Artisan, 2003). Decadent and delightful, the book is rich with baking secrets and chocolate lore. For a second helping of dessert, enjoy Sherry Yard’s The Secrets of Baking (New York: Houghton Mifflin, 2003), a master course for all adventurous cooks.
And if you want up-to-date recipes right from Jilly’s kitchen, visit my website. I’ll be offering new recipes regularly.
To learn more about service dogs in action, track down US Army Field Manual 3-19.17 Military Working Dogs (2005), a basic resource about training, protection and utilization in combat.
If you are intrigued by the gentle movements that Jilly used on Walker, I highly recommend the tissue techniques developed by Tom Bowen. Or email me at my website (www.christinaskye.com) for more information. The Bowen system has a truly impressive record of success. While you’re at my website, have a look around. And drop by frequently for new book updates, free knitting patterns and contest news.
Meanwhile, a new Summer Island book is already heading your way. As summer sunlight fades into winter storms, Olivia will find her world shattered by lies. And when she least expects a gift, she will stumble into a man who holds the healing touch of love.
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