by Maya Rodale, Caroline Linden, Miranda Neville, Katharine Ashe
Archer was spared having to reply when Jane crossed the room to them. “Here you go.” She handed Archer the book. “Tell your secretary I’m going to send her a copy of my next book before it comes out.”
“She’ll love that.”
“Shall we go back down?” Duke draped his arm around Jane’s shoulders. “Or not? I can’t let one of my programmers get laid more often than I do at my own wedding.”
“Oh my God, don’t mention Rupert!” Jane groaned.
“How can I not?” returned Duke. “Is there a single person at this wedding who hasn’t seen him and his girlfriend getting busy somewhere?”
Archer remembered the couple dry-humping out beyond the gazebo. “Are they the couple who can’t keep their hands off each other?”
“I think they’re sweet,” said Jane sternly. “Just … indiscreet.”
“Exhibitionists,” muttered Duke to Archer.
“Well, maybe a little,” agreed the bride, her face pink.
“So are we going back down?” Duke asked. Jane rolled her eyes at her fiancé, but went with him. At the door, Duke paused, glanced back at Archer, and hissed, “Ask her to the wedding.”
“Who?” Archer tried to pretend he had no idea what Duke meant.
The groom smirked. “You know who.”
The door closed behind them and Archer was left to contemplate it in silence. Ask Natalie to the wedding? He liked the idea, except that he didn’t know her very well and had obviously said something wrong the last time they spoke. He wouldn’t mind seeing her in a slinky dress, nor watching her walk around in high heels. He also wouldn’t mind getting her out of the dress and heels, but he warned himself not to go there. And there had to be better place to take a woman than a wedding, where everyone would be drunk and prone to saying stupid things like, “When are you two getting married?” That was too much stress for any first date.
On the other hand… He was only in England for a few more days. Even though she was also from the Boston area, she might not be going back any time soon. Archer hesitated, then admitted to himself he would like to see much, much more of Natalie.
Chapter Six
He walked down to the cottage the next morning and set up his laptop on the patio table as usual, but when he opened his e-mail, it failed to download. The Internet indicator just blinked, indicating it wasn’t finding a signal. Archer tried a few things, but still came up empty. The Wi-Fi was down.
Tentatively, he knocked on the garden door. After a minute the window opened and Natalie stuck out her head. “What?”
There was a streak of something dark on her cheekbone. Probably chocolate. The idea of licking it off popped into his brain, sudden and intense. He cleared his throat to get rid of the thought. “Uh, the, uh, the Wi-Fi seems to be out.”
“Is it?” Something beeped behind her. “Shit!” She disappeared from the window.
Archer deliberated. He needed that Wi-Fi. He had also, unfortunately, sworn to stay out of her way, and it seemed clear there was a bit of chaos going on in the kitchen. While he stood there, she reappeared in the window. “Sorry about that, but I don’t have time to fix it. Maybe tonight.” Another timer started beeping, and with a roll of her eyes she vanished again.
A whole day without access to his e-mail? Thanks to the last few days he wasn’t behind, but he wasn’t ahead, either; “out of the country” didn’t translate into “unavailable for work” at Harper Millman. There was always the gazebo, he thought grimly. He could work with half the wedding party up there shouting into their phones, right?
He knocked again, then turned the knob and cautiously opened the door. As expected, it looked a bit out of control. No less than four pots steamed and bubbled atop the stove, and Natalie was stirring one, peering ferociously into the depths. “Maybe I could fix the Wi-Fi,” he offered.
A timer beeped and she smacked one hand down on it, silencing it without a glance. “It’s not my computer. It’s kind of old and takes a good bit of cursing to get working.”
“I’m pretty good with that type of machine.”
Still stirring, she glanced at him. Her face was flushed pink and her hair was curling up over the scarf tied around her head. “They teach that in law school?”
“I was a computer science major before law school.” He gave a hopeful grin. “I swear I won’t break it.”
She hesitated, and another timer went off. “Oh, fine, go ahead and try.” She threw open the oven door and bent down to look inside. “Perfect,” she breathed in apparent delight, lifting out a pan.
Archer unthinking agreed, blatantly staring at her ass, which was exquisitely displayed in a pair of faded jeans. “Absolutely.”
Natalie looked up, stray curls falling around her face. “What?”
He coughed, averting his eyes. “In there, you said?” He pointed at random.
“Yeah.” Her attention switched back to the pan in her hands. “These are just right. Where’s my pen?”
He left her making notes on whatever she’d baked, which smelled damned good, and went in search of the modem. She was right—it was an old machine, but it was also one he knew rather well. Back in college, he and his roommate had taken apart PCs like this for fun. Their room had looked like a factory exploded, but on the bright side, they built the most epic gaming system Harvard had ever seen.
The PC was set on an ornate desk that looked like something the Queen of France might have used. He followed the wires until he located the modem and other hardware, crammed into a large drawer in a squirrel’s nest of cables and office supplies. What a mess. Whoever lived here had spent some good money on a very tasteful renovation of a really old house, then set up a computer system from the Dark Ages. Shaking his head, he pulled the drawer open and started unplugging things.
Natalie baked six perfect trays of madeleines before wondering what Archer was up to. A quick look at the clock revealed it was past one, which meant he’d been working on the computer … a really long time. He usually walked down the hill before nine. By now she was used to seeing him sitting out on the patio as she worked, and twice she’d caught herself glancing out the window before remembering why he wasn’t there.
She made a few more notes on her madeleines and tossed her pen on the counter. Maybe it had been just a bit stupid to invite him to go fix the Wi-Fi. Who only knew what was on Amaryllis’s creaky old computer, and now she’d just gone and let a complete stranger poke around it. The guy didn’t seem dangerous or hacker-ish, but she had no basis for that. She pulled the scarf from her head and went into the office. “How’s it going?” Then she looked around. “Oh my God, what did you do?”
“Don’t worry,” he said absently, his fingers flying across the keyboard. He had put two thick books on the Art Deco movement beneath the monitor to raise it up, and there was a jumble of cables and wires and electronic boxes in the middle of the floor. The drawer where everything usually went was open—and empty.
Natalie blanched. Pippa had told her not to mess with anything, that it was all a little touchy but should work as long as she didn’t move things around. “This isn’t my computer! I have to leave everything the way I found it…”
He turned. “It’s a miracle it worked at all the way it was. The modem cable was pinched in the drawer, and half this stuff doesn’t work but was still plugged in. And when I started looking at the machine—”
“Whoa, why were you looking at the machine?” Shit; did Amaryllis have personal financial files on there? Nude photos? Given the hot young footballers she dated, it was a strong possibility. Natalie’s heart lurched. Pippa would kill her. “Usually just unplugging the modem thing and plugging it back in works.”
“Really?” He cast a skeptical eye on the discarded electronics. “That’s a shock. No, I went to look at the software—nothing else,” he added as if he could tell she was having an invasion-of-privacy freak-out. “The machine is all but crippled with malware. It’s got a well-known virus that was slowing it
down to glacial speed. Didn’t you notice?”
Nope. “Well, I knew it was really old,” she muttered in her own defense. “Old computers are always slow.”
He grinned. “This one was beyond slow. It would drive me insane, so I started cleaning it up, and…” He checked his watch. “Time got away from me. Is it really after one?”
“Mmm-hmm.” She nudged the tangle of stuff on the floor with one toe. “Please tell me you’re going to put all this back together.”
“Not on your life. Some of it’s so old, there’s no software to support it. I’ll be glad to box it up for the owner, but he doesn’t need any of it.”
“She.” Natalie gave the pile another worried look, then pushed the issue from her mind. She certainly wasn’t going to go poking through, trying to figure out what everything was and how it might connect. A big note of apology to Amaryllis would have to suffice. “So is it working again?”
He turned back to the screen, where various status bars were inching forward. “Should be soon. It will be much faster once this is done.”
“Well, that would be nice.” Slowly she came across the room. “How does a computer science major end up a lawyer?”
“Change of heart, I guess.”
She glanced sideways at him. There was more to it than that, from his carefully light tone. “Is that your connection to the wedding going on up there? It’s some big technology guy getting married, right?”
His mouth quirked as if at some private joke. “Maybe. But I’m here strictly for business reasons.” He turned the chair around and gave her a rueful smile, the one that made him look young and almost bashful. “Would I be down here mooching off your Wi-Fi every day otherwise?”
“How would I know?” She opened her eyes wide. “Maybe you’re a workaholic who doesn’t even know how to have fun.”
For a fraction of a second his eyes dropped. Not bashfully, but openly—though quickly—checking her out. “I hope that’s not true.”
Natalie opened her mouth, and nothing came out. Archer was a successful guy—smart, hardworking, funny, decent, and way too good-looking to be a real lawyer. It had been a long time since someone so obviously right checked her out. “So, no date for the wedding?” His eyebrows went up, and she hastily added, “I assume if you had a date, you’d be spending more time with her. Or him, as the case may be, because sometimes it is, you know, and that’s fine.”
His smile had started in the middle of her speech and grew as she rambled on. “If I had a date, she would no doubt be furious at me for working,” he said, laying particular stress on the female pronoun. “But I haven’t got a girlfriend, here or at home.”
Thankfully something on the computer beeped, and he turned around again. Natalie took advantage of the moment to let her head drop back. Smooth, girl, she told herself. Not that she was hitting on him. She was just nosy. But she was also unreasonably pleased that he wasn’t in a relationship. The more appealing he got, the more she’d thought he would be. Guys this right did not freely walk the earth.
“Here you are,” Archer said, writing something on a sticky note and pressing it down on the desk blotter. “The password was too easy and obvious; at least three other people have been freeloading on your system, and one of them seems to like porn.”
“What?”
“Unless it’s your thing,” he said without missing a beat. “I’m not judging.”
“I am not downloading porn!” Natalie wondered who the heck it was. Maybe Charles, the old duffer who came to work on the lawn and gardens every other week. She’d thought he was just reading a book, sitting on that bench beside the front door during his break. Hmm.
“Like I said, no judgment.” Archer stood up and stretched his shoulders. He looked at the modem and router, now happily blinking little green lights. “Damn, I miss this,” he said, almost to himself.
“Fixing computers from the dinosaur age?”
He flexed his fingers, snagging her gaze. He had really nice hands, she noticed again. “Doing something. Yeah, it’s old, but when it was new, that was a top-of-the-line machine. I used to take those apart in college. My roommate and I were complete geeks; we booby-trapped the bathroom door down the hall with a little flashing light, and we wired a statue near our dorm with a speaker so we could spook tourists. I spent more time trying to write an AI essay generator than I spent writing actual essays, and nearly flunked an English class because of it. Still… It was fun.”
“Why’d you give it up?” she asked softly.
The fondness of things remembered faded from his face. “Life changes.”
That was the truth. Natalie wondered what had changed in his life to make him give up hacking his way around computers—maybe money? If he could afford to spend his college years taking apart “top-of-the-line machines,” he must have had money—then. But now he spent his days hunched over a laptop looking beleaguered when he should have been on vacation, enjoying the wedding events.
“Right.” She cleared her throat, suddenly wishing she wasn’t wearing her worn-out jeans and a plain T-shirt. She shoved her hair from her forehead and cringed as her finger touched something gooey on her cheek. Not that she was hitting on Archer, or even interested in hitting on him. She turned back toward the kitchen, furtively swiping the gooey stuff from her face. “You want some lunch?”
Somehow Archer felt that being offered food again was a victory. He followed her into the kitchen, where she began pulling out plates. “I have roast chicken and coleslaw,” she said. “Nothing very gourmet.”
“Sounds great.” He propped one shoulder against the doorway and watched as she fetched an armload of containers from the refrigerator. The dark smear on her cheek was wider and lighter now, as if she’d tried to wipe it away. “What are you baking today?”
She glanced up and flashed him a quick smile. “Madeleines. I also had a brain wave about ice cream overnight, even though I already did the ice creams, so I started a few custards as well.”
“You’re making ice cream?”
“Uh-huh. Did you think it was produced in a chemical factory somewhere?”
“No, I just didn’t know anyone could make it at home,” he said. “It comes from the store in a box, like pasta.”
She snorted and carved some slices off a fat loaf of crusty bread. “You can make pasta at home.”
He whistled in quiet astonishment. “Maybe you can.”
Natalie laughed, opening another container. “I am just as amazed that you could fix that old computer, so we’re even. Rosemary mayo?”
Dumbly he nodded. Not only did it sound good, he was beginning to get a whiff of it. And there was something very sensual about the way she handled food. Her head tilted to the side as she swirled a dollop of mayonnaise onto the bread, then laid some tomato slices and lettuce on top of it. The blade of her knife glinted as she ran it through a whole chicken breast, the skin dark chestnut and speckled with herbs or spices or something. One by one she layered the sliced chicken on the bread before bringing the knife down through the sandwich, cutting it into halves. He had a strong feeling she’d made everything from scratch, and when he asked, she confirmed it.
“Of course. I’m writing a cookbook, remember.”
“With recipes for mayonnaise and bread?”
She laughed again. “No, although they’re both easy to make. I want my cookbook to be the sort of thing people turn to every night, not only for basics like a quick roasted chicken, but for dinner parties and special occasion meals. I start with easy, basic recipes, then add on layers of extras or different flavor variations. Most people don’t have time to make mayonnaise, although…” She gave him a secretive little smile that made his stomach tighten. “I did include one recipe for how to flavor mayonnaise from the jar. A few chopped herbs and a squirt of lemon juice make a huge impact.” She scooped out some coleslaw onto both plates, set a sandwich half on each, and handed him one. “Let’s eat.”
Archer was only too happy
to obey.
“So when does the cookbook come out?” he asked as they ate on the patio. He’d pushed his laptop aside and now Oliver the cat lay on top of it. Archer barely glanced at it, fully diverted by the succulent sandwich in his hands and the fascinating woman across from him.
She took her time answering. “I don’t know. I have to finish writing it.”
He nodded. “Is the publisher getting impatient for it?” One of his clients had written a book on a computer language once, and Archer had helped him find a literary attorney for the book contract.
Natalie played with her coleslaw, chewing very slowly. Too late, Archer recognized the signs of someone who didn’t want to answer. “That’s not really my business. Never mind.”
“No, it’s okay.” She took a deep breath. “I don’t have a publisher yet. Writing a cookbook was… Well, it was an excuse to get out of Wellesley. My brother and I had a big fight about our family restaurant and I needed to get away.”
He just listened.
“This house belongs to my college roommate’s stepmother,” she went on. “When I told Pippa I needed a hideout, she offered it.”
He glanced at the house. One never knew what real estate was worth, but someone had spent a lot of money renovating this house. “Pretty nice hideout, if you ask me.”
She smiled, a little pensive. “Very nice.” She seemed to rouse herself from whatever had dampened her mood. “So you just moved to Boston?”
“From San Francisco. But I went to college in the Boston area and liked it. Still do.”
“You moved back for work?”
He winked. “An offer I couldn’t refuse.”
“Something that combines computers and law,” she guessed. “I have a guess whose wedding it is up there. The shop in town only sells trashy newspapers and they are full of rumors about Internet millionaires.”
Archer pushed back his plate and heaved a happy, sated, sigh. “I don’t do the computers anymore, just the law. But being able to speak the language helps with my clients, who include”—he tapped one temple—“many very successful Internet entrepreneurs.”
