Suzanne caught Isabel’s other hand. “So...do you think you can make it?” She glanced at Joe. “You’re invited, too, by the way.”
Gee thanks, Joe thought wryly. But he was pleased. He didn’t care if she was the one invited and he was the plus one. It was going to be a great day. He put his arm around Isabel, though, just to make sure Suzanne remembered him.
Isabel smiled. “That sounds great. We’re just finishing up lunch, Suzanne. You’re welcome to join us. You might know that Joe, Metal and Jacko have helped me, um, make the house more secure.”
“I wish I could stay.” Suzanne’s beautiful face tightened. “And yes, I heard you had a Peeping Tom. This should keep any Peeping Toms away.”
Wow. Women really did have some sort of underground intel network that put the CIA to shame.
Isabel smiled. “We’re about to have coffee. Can you join us for that?”
Suzanne hesitated, checked her watch, finally sighed. “Oh, I would love to! But I’m going to be late for my appointment as it is.”
“Biscotti,” Isabel said coaxingly. “My special recipe.”
Suzanne closed her eyes briefly. “Don’t tempt me. But I’ll take a rain check, if I may.”
“Anytime,” Isabel said simply and they smiled at each other.
Suzanne Huntington was the classiest woman Joe had ever seen. There was just something about her that couldn’t be explained and couldn’t be quantified and yet was absolutely real. She was, as usual, dressed in an elegant tailored suit in a light color—she had an endless stock of them—and she looked like a million dollars. Not a hair out of place.
Isabel’s hair was mussed, she was dressed in a track suit, she had a touch of flour on her cheek, and she looked like a million dollars, too. They both had looks that had nothing to do with makeup or clothes or a hair salon. They were naturally beautiful and naturally classy.
Suzanne smiled. “The invitation to the lodge is real but I’ve also come to ask a favor and I have nothing to bribe you with.”
Isabel tilted her head in confusion. “Bribe me? Everyone has been so kind, you certainly don’t have to bribe me for a favor. I’ll do anything I can.”
“Good.” Suzanne was holding a pair of soft purple leather gloves and she slapped them against her other hand. “So. My friend who is setting up this resort lodge on Mount Hood was supposed to have a chef from San Francisco arriving but he broke a leg. So she has a kitchen staff that is very competent but no one to plan out a menu. I’m wondering—”
“Oh!” Isabel’s eyes rounded. “If you think I’m up to it, I’d love to help!”
Suzanne gave an unladylike snort. “If you’re up to it? I used to read your blog all the time. You’re more than up to it. There will be about fifty of us, half of them the men from ASI whose tastes are hardy and simple—” She glanced with amusement at Joe, Metal and Jacko. “And the other half are their plus ones and my side of the aisle, who have more, let’s say, sophisticated tastes. A fun mix. My friend really needs help with the menu. Can I put the two of you together?”
“Sure.” Isabel and Suzanne brought out their cells and exchanged numbers.
Suzanne gave a sigh. “I am really sorry to have to go. But before I do...” She placed an elegant hand on Isabel’s shoulder. “Let me say how very sorry I am for your loss. The Massacre was a tragedy for our country and for all the people lost. I would have voted for your father. He was a good man.”
“He was. Thank you,” Isabel said simply, placing her hand over Suzanne’s.
Suzanne bent forward and gave her a hug, surreptitiously wiping under her eye. “So, I’ll be in touch about the menu,” she said briskly when she pulled away. “I’m leaving you in excellent hands and say hello to Felicity and Lauren. If Allegra can make it, she said she’d pop in to say hello, too.”
“I’m such a fangirl,” Isabel said.
“I’ll be sure to let her know. Douglas said he’d stop by with tickets for the concert. Did he?”
“Oh yeah.” Isabel pointed with pride at the two tickets on the coffee table.
Suzanne smiled. “One thing you’ll learn about these guys—” She waved her arm to include Joe and Metal and Jacko, who had barely lifted his head from his plate. “They’re really reliable. If they say they’ll do something they’ll do it.”
“I know.” Isabel smiled at Joe and it was like a punch to the stomach. “I’ve got a bank vault of a house to prove it.”
“I’ll be in touch.” Suzanne looked at her watch again and winced. “Must go, bye!” She kissed the air and was gone in a cloud of perfume.
“You okay, honey?” Metal and Jacko were back to the food, really absorbed in what they were eating. Joe bent down and kissed Isabel’s cheek, but really it was an excuse to touch her skin. He’d never felt skin that velvety before. Strands of her hair caught on his stubble. He fingered his chin. He had to shave or he’d rough up that smooth soft skin tonight.
And man, he didn’t want to do that. He didn’t want anything rough to touch her, ever again. He himself had big, rough hands but he took care to touch her gently. She was so soft all over, particularly that warm wet softness between her legs.
“Yes, I’m fine. Why?”
He shrugged. “Dunno. Maybe because you’ve got your house invaded by men who from the looks of it haven’t eaten in a year. Then their women are coming over and you’ve promised to feed them. Then Suzanne comes over and asks for help in preparing for the big party up at the Lodge. Is it too much?”
She didn’t even pretend not to understand what he was saying. She’d led the most secluded life he’d ever seen for these past three months. Now that he knew her background, he understood why. Massive trauma, the terrible aftereffects of the Massacre. She’d fled here to Portland to hide away from the world.
Now the world had found her. Metal, Jacko, the Senior, Felicity, Lauren, Suzanne. And the party at the new lodge—the entire crew, fifty strong. Could she handle that?
“Growing up, our house was always filled with people,” she said softly, looking him directly in the eyes. “I loved it. I think I needed these past months of solitude. I wasn’t fit company for anyone. But now—”
“You were absolutely fit company!” Joe protested. “It’s just that—”
“Hey, Isabel.” They both turned to the table where Jacko was holding up a super clean plate. There wasn’t even a molecule of food left. He was trying for pathetic. The waif who hadn’t eaten in days. Even if he was a super buff two-hundred-forty-pound mass of muscle. “Any more of this stuff?”
Chapter Seven
Isabel had never seen a human face with no expression whatsoever on it before. Even blankness was an expression. But Joe betrayed absolutely nothing as he beat the pants off Metal and Jacko. Actually, if it had been strip poker instead of for money, they’d have both been naked right now and a fully dressed Joe would have had a pile of clothes on the table instead of a pile of chips.
They were sitting around the dining room table at her house instead of his and they weren’t talking. The poker game was a form of warfare. Though the three men were clearly very good friends, and Joe had talked a lot about how they’d helped him through rehab, you wouldn’t have known it from the game.
Isabel had offered alcohol. She had a bottle of brandy and a bottle of bourbon, but all three had turned it down, Metal and Jacko with expressions of horror.
“Bad enough playing Joe sober,” Jacko said. So she’d served coffee. The cups steamed at their elbows as they snapped cards up and down.
She didn’t really know the rules of this form of poker, so she wasn’t following the game, she was following the players. It was fascinating. There were moments of tension, but they all came from Metal and from Jacko. Though they had poker faces, too, there were tiny signs of elation or despair. What she knew were called tells.
Metal’s eyelid twitched a time or two, something entirely autonomous. Jacko’s index finger drummed against the hand of cards.
Joe had no tells. None. The skin around his eyes and mouth remained exactly the same. He had deep brackets around his mouth and the skin around his eyes was weather-beaten, but he had those all the time. Nothing at all changed. Not muscles, not his breathing, not his eye movements.
He only broke that utterly blank facade once, to wink at her. Then his face became a blank wall once more.
He’d won either twenty dollars or two hundred dollars—Isabel wasn’t too sure how much money each chip represented—when the front doorbell rang.
“That’s Lauren,” Jacko said, folding with an expression of disgust. “She just texted me. Joe, if you weren’t wearing a T-shirt, I swear I’d think you had an ace up your sleeve.”
“Watch, children, and learn,” Joe said, voice carefully neutral as he spread out his long arms and pulled in a ton of chips.
Metal and Jacko gave loud expressions of disgust just as Isabel opened her door.
Felicity and Lauren rushed in and laughed when they heard the two men groaning. “Joe’s winning again,” Felicity said.
“Winning big.” Lauren shook her head. “That’s real pain I’m hearing.” She offered her hand. “I’m Lauren. I belong to that big sore loser over there—” She pointed at Jacko, who was scowling at his hand of cards. “He’s usually not as sour as that, though he isn’t much of a smiler, either.”
“I heard that,” Jacko grunted as he looked over.
Lauren gave him a sunny smile and, to Isabel’s surprise, Jacko smiled back. It was genuine. He was happy to see her.
Lauren walked over and gave his shaved head a kiss. “Hello, darling, nice to see you, but I’m not here for you.”
“Gotcha. You’re here for the food.”
Lauren laughed. “That, too. But most of all to meet Isabel.”
“Who’s going out with the Prince of Darkness here,” Metal said.
“That’s an interesting thought,” Felicity said as Isabel took her coat and Lauren’s. “Do you think Joe made a pact with the devil? Sold his soul?”
“I’m right here,” Joe complained. “I was shot up but my hearing is just fine.”
“It’s more than possible he sold his soul,” Metal said. “I want a kiss, too.”
Felicity bent to kiss his cheek, whispered something in his ear. He met her eyes and smiled. A private joke.
Isabel’s parents used to do that, all the time. Drove their kids nuts until they got old enough to appreciate the fact that their parents genuinely liked each other. Not many of her friends had parents who even spoke to each other.
Isabel’s throat tightened, then she shook off the sadness. No sadness today, no. For the first time in a long time, her house was filled with people. Friendly people who showed in every single way that they liked her. She was feeding people, which she loved doing. And they were almost pathetically grateful for the food.
The sun had broken through the clouds and though from the outside nothing was visible, the bright light streamed into her living room and kitchen.
“Let’s have tea in the kitchen,” she said.
“Yes!” Lauren gave a little shiver of excitement. “I like you already, Isabel, but I’ve heard such great things about your cooking! I can’t wait!” She frowned. “You’ll feed us, right? I had a light lunch to leave room.”
Isabel laughed. “Yes, I’m going to feed you. Later. But for now, I baked apple tarts and I made some panna cotta.”
“Sounds great.” Felicity linked arms with her. “I don’t know what panna cotta is. I’m Russian by blood and we don’t do good food. We brood. And I don’t know how to cook, so anything that isn’t poison is okay by me. But Metal says that your food is magic, and I am so up for this.”
So was Isabel. She had laid a nice table at the breakfast nook. A lace tablecloth, her best china—a Limoges set her mother had bought as her graduation present—a small bouquet of wildflowers in a Rosenthal vase. Two pillar candles to be lit when it got darker. By a happy chance, the afternoon sun streamed in through the windows and bathed the table in a warm glow.
All three women stopped.
“Oh my,” Felicity said. “How lovely.”
“Can I come over some afternoon and sketch your table?” Lauren was looking at the scene with her head cocked, studying it. Joe had told her Lauren was a gifted watercolorist.
“Of course,” Isabel answered. “I can make cherry tarts, they’re really colorful.”
“Don’t you dare not ask me,” Felicity said in a mock serious tone. She put her arm around Isabel and gently squeezed.
“Of course not.” Isabel hooked her arm around Felicity’s waist for a second. The kettle whistled. “Okay, tea will be ready in a minute.”
She had a special Lady Grey blend with orange peel that she ordered specially from London. Felicity and Lauren loved it. Loved the apple tarts. When Felicity put a spoonful of the panna cotta in her mouth she closed her eyes in delight.
“My new favorite sweet.”
“They’re all your favorites,” Lauren objected.
“True, true. I am a dessert slut,” Felicity cheerfully replied. “So.” She put down her spoon and turned to Isabel. “Joe.”
Isabel blinked. “Joe?”
Felicity and Lauren both leaned forward. “As in you’re sleeping with Joe,” Felicity said.
Lauren elbowed Felicity and rolled her eyes. “You’ll have to forgive Felicity. She spends most of her time with computers and nerds. Luckily Metal is teaching her how to be human. What she meant to say was that you and Joe are...together?” She said that last word delicately.
“You mean are we sleeping together,” Isabel said, amused.
“Exactly!” Felicity smiled in triumph at Lauren. “So, we want to know your intentions.”
Isabel’s eyebrows rose. “My intentions?”
“Yes.” Lauren took over. They’d planned this in advance. They were playing off each other. “We want to know how serious you are about Joe. Because Joe’s a good guy. And, in the eyes of many, you could be considered...well, out of his league.”
Isabel thought about being angry. This was a major intrusion into her personal life, by two people she barely knew. At any other moment she’d have interrupted this, stood up and ushered the two women out.
But...
They cared for Joe. It was clear in their faces. They weren’t curious about her and Joe, they were worried. Worried that she’d break his heart.
Isabel had grown up in a world where people cared about each other. Her family had never been reticent about intruding into each other’s lives because it was done out of love. Right now, there wasn’t anyone who cared enough about her to intrude, to be nosy, to nudge her this way or that.
She’d lived with nosy loving people and she’d lived in an emotional void. She knew which one she preferred.
“Okay.” Isabel clasped her hands. “Let’s look at the facts, here. Joe is a former Navy SEAL. I don’t know much about that but I do know it is not easy to become a SEAL and they do hard, dangerous, necessary jobs. I know he was grievously wounded in the service of his country. I know he has a close-knit group of friends who love him and respect him and are helping him. I know that when I moved here three months ago, we were both physical wrecks. Only, Joe had the willpower to make himself over. I haven’t. I don’t have one-tenth of Joe’s determination. So—” Isabel lifted her hands, making them scales. The right hand tipped way up. “On this side we have Joe Harris, valiant warrior, highly self-disciplined, who is upset because he is on his company’s payroll without being able to do the work yet. He hates that. Further, since the day I moved in, he’s done nothing but help me.”
“And he’s a demon in bed,” Felicity added.
Isabel nodded and lifted her right hand higher. “And, yes, he is a god in bed.”
Both women sighed and leaned back in their chairs.
Isabel glanced at her left hand, way down. “So now let’s look at me. The one who is supposedly out of his league. I’m twen
ty eight years old and I’m jobless. I have a talent for cooking, yes, but I haven’t trained as a chef. I was blown up six months ago and I haven’t put myself back together again at all, as Joe has done. I haven’t got my strength back, I have dizzy spells. Sometimes I am afraid to go out for walks because I don’t know if I’ll make it back.”
She looked Felicity and Lauren in the eyes. Their faces were now sober as they listened to her.
“I have nightmares. Every night. Last night, thanks to Joe, was the first time I didn’t have a nightmare, but believe me, sleeping with someone who wakes up terrified isn’t fun. I don’t know if I’ll ever be physically fit again. I lost my entire family and that’s left a huge black hole punched in my chest and I can’t be sure I’ll ever be emotionally whole again. I miss my family every second of every day and I grieve for them. How attractive is that? To have a woman who isn’t emotionally stable. Oh, and money. Everyone thinks I’m rich because I am a Delvaux, but I’m not. Our family was well-off, sure. But Dad put all the family assets in a blind trust when he decided to be a candidate. That blind trust was the Solem Group.”
Both of them gasped and Isabel gave a sharp nod. The Solem Group had gone bankrupt two days after the Massacre, destroying thousands of family fortunes, including hers.
“I was left with huge debts. I sold off our house, paid the debts and was left with enough to buy this place, but not much more. My savings will run out in a few months, and whether I’m physically fit or not, I’m going to have to look for a job.”
She leaned forward and they did too. “After the Massacre, my life became a nightmare. The last of the Delvauxes, this wretched creature. I couldn’t go out of the house without being accosted. There wasn’t a tabloid that didn’t catch me looking like a ghost. That was too much for my friends, who didn’t want the Delvaux bad luck to jinx them. And of course, the kicker. I was dead broke. Even if I wanted to go out to dinner, to go to the Hamptons or Aruba, go clubbing, I couldn’t. I didn’t want to but my so-called friends assumed I couldn’t afford to. A grieving, suffering woman who is also dead broke—who wants that?”
Midnight Secrets Page 14
