When Melanie reached Mike’s side, the minister asked, “Who gives this couple to be wed?”
Max D’Angelo glanced down at Jessie standing solemnly by his side and tucked her tiny hand in his. “We do,” they said together.
“My love for you will be eternal,” Mike said when the time came, clearly taking Melanie by surprise with vows he’d labored to write himself. “Like this garden, it will have cycles, but it will always bloom and thrive. It will weather every storm and reach for the sunlight. If we nurture it, our joy will be bountiful.”
“Oh, Mike,” she whispered, looking as if she might weep.
“Don’t you dare cry,” he said. “Or I’ll never say anything romantic again.”
She laughed at that, and the world righted itself. He sighed, gazing into her sparkling eyes. This was it, he thought. This was love—looking into Melanie’s eyes and finding that his world was complete.
“I thought I was the one who had all the words,” Melanie said slowly. “But you’ve left me speechless, Mike. ‘I love you’ doesn’t seem to be nearly enough, and yet it’s everything. I love you and your daughter. I love the family we will become, the children we will have somewhere along the way. I love that you’ve taken me into your heart, and I promise you will always be in mine.”
Mike grinned at her. “Not so speechless, after all.”
The minister cleared his throat. “My turn?” he inquired.
“Absolutely,” they both said.
“Then I now pronounce you husband and wife.” He gazed out at the crowd. “Ladies and gentlemen, I present Mr. and Mrs. Mikelewski.”
Jessie tugged on the minister’s clerical robe. “What about me?” she asked, drawing laughter.
“And daughter,” the minister said.
Mike was about to reach for Jessie, but Melanie was there first, scooping her new daughter up in her arms, then reaching for Mike’s hand. Together the three of them walked down the aisle.
A family, he thought happily. The way it should be. The way it would always be.
What’s Cooking?
Prologue
She was apparently addicted to sex. That was the only conclusion Margaret D’Angelo could come up with to explain this ridiculous habit she had of convincing herself she was wildly in love with a man she barely knew. She’d made way too many bad choices in her twenty-seven years based on letting her hormones overrule her head. She was not about to make another one.
And when it came to photographer Rick Flannery, he all but had the phrase “bad choice” tattooed on his forehead. It didn’t take a genius to figure that one out. The man was a talented, world-renowned fashion photographer. That Maggie had even met him was such a fluke, she could still hardly believe it. Under normal circumstances, their paths would never cross. She set up photo shoots of food, for goodness’ sakes! The most glamorous things on her magazine’s pages wore decadent icing, not makeup.
Rick had merely stepped in at the last minute to do a favor for a friend. She figured that was about the most luck she could count on where he was concerned.
To add to her conviction that any relationship was doomed, she recognized that he was surrounded daily by some of the most gorgeous women in the world. The tabloids carried a picture of him almost every week with yet another model on his arm. Society columns linked his name with women from around the globe. Rarely was it the same name twice. That did not bode well for her own relationship with him.
Yes, indeed, for once in her life Maggie actually got it before she made the kind of mistake she’d live to regret, before she confused passionate sex with eternal love. Just this once she was going to sever all ties with a man before he could break her heart. This sane, rational thought might not have come to her in time to keep her from sleeping with Rick, but it sure as hell was in time to keep her from falling for him.
Proud of herself for making such a calm, intelligent decision for once and backing it up with a plan of action, she marched into her big sister’s law office in a prestigious Boston skyscraper and held out her hand. “Give me the key,” she demanded grimly.
Ashley’s head snapped up from the stack of paperwork on her cluttered desk. She stared at Maggie blankly. Clearly her mind was still on whatever high-profile case she was preparing to take to court.
“What key?” Ashley asked, sounding surprisingly less quick-witted than she did when she was defending one of her clients against an aggressive prosecutor.
“To Rose Cottage, dammit!” Their grandmother’s cottage was far away from Boston. Rick knew absolutely nothing about it. Maggie figured she could hide out there until this attraction or addiction or whatever it was cooled down, until it became nothing more than a distant memory. Down there in the boonies, she might not even have to see his picture in some tabloid with whatever model du jour was taking her place. That was definitely an added bonus.
“Why?” Ashley asked.
“I’m taking a vacation, that’s why,” Maggie retorted.
Ashley looked even more surprised. Maggie was no more in the habit of taking time off than Ashley was. She might not maintain Ashley’s workaholic pace, but she didn’t like being too far from the office and the whirlwind that publishing a monthly magazine entailed.
“Sit,” Ashley commanded, waiting patiently until Maggie relented and complied. “What’s going on, Maggie?”
“Rick Flannery is going on,” Maggie responded, blurting out the words without thinking of the consequences. Ashley went into full protective big-sister mode. It was an awesome, sometimes intimidating transformation, especially for the person on the receiving end of her wrath.
“The photographer?” Ashley asked, getting a better grip on her pen and looking as if she might start taking notes and readying some sort of suit against the man at any second if she didn’t find Maggie’s answers satisfactory. “The one you’ve been raving about ever since he stepped in at the last minute to do the photo shoot for the July issue of your magazine? The one who could make the most ordinary mac and cheese look like gourmet fare, even though he normally takes pretty pictures of gorgeous women? The man who has eyes as crystal-blue as a lake and a tight little butt? That Rick Flannery?”
“Yes, that Rick Flannery,” Maggie snapped. As if there could possibly be another one, she thought irritably. Wasn’t it bad enough that there was one of them? And did her sister have to remember every blasted thing she’d ever said about the man?
To Maggie’s shock, Ashley leaned back and grinned. “The man’s got your hormones all stirred up, hasn’t he? Why didn’t I see that the first time you mentioned his name? When you started waxing eloquent about his body, it should have been a dead giveaway.”
Maggie remained stubbornly silent.
“So?” Ashley prodded. “Does he make your heart pound and then some?”
“So what if he does? Nothing’s going to come of it.” Actually quite a lot had come of it, several glorious days and nights of unbridled passion, in fact. That was the problem, but Ashley didn’t need to know it. Nor was Maggie about to add that he’d failed to call for six endless days now, pretty much proving her impression of a hit-and-run kind of a guy.
“Why not? Is there some reason the two of you can’t be together?” Ashley persisted.
“Because he’s Rick Flannery, dammit! There are a hundred—no, maybe a thousand—absolutely gorgeous, willowy women who drool over him on a regular basis. I am not about to set myself up to compete with that.” What they had might be very hot right now, but it wouldn’t last, not with that kind of competition underfoot day in and day out. Maggie hadn’t been able to sustain a relationship yet, not once the sex cooled down. And Rick, according to all sorts of tabloid accounts, was not known for ignoring temptation.
“You’ve already slept with him, haven’t you?” Ashley inquired knowingly. “And it was fabulous. Otherwise you wouldn’t be this scared.”
Leave it to Ashley to see straight through her, Maggie thought with disgust. She’d hoped to get
through this conversation with one tiny shred of dignity intact. Apparently that wasn’t to be.
“Will you just give me the stupid key?” she grumbled.
“So you can hide out in grandmother’s cottage until the attraction wears off?” Ashley surmised.
“Exactly.”
“You do recall what happened when Melanie went there a few months ago, don’t you? She was just as determined to avoid men as you are. One popped up anyway and she’s now married.” There was a gloating note in Ashley’s voice.
“A fluke. Lightning can’t possibly strike twice,” Maggie insisted. “That town is only so big. How many men can there possibly be like Melanie’s Mike?”
Ashley chuckled. “It only takes one, sweetie.” But even as she said it, she dug in her purse and retrieved the old-fashioned key that she kept there as some sort of bizarre talisman. She claimed it was a reminder to her that there was life outside the office. She held it out to Maggie. “Go. Enjoy.”
“Thank you,” Maggie said, grabbing the key and heading for the door.
“You’re welcome. But when temptation comes calling, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Maggie glared at her. “Bite your tongue.”
Wasn’t that the whole point of going into exile, after all? Temptation was going to be hundreds of miles away.
1
Rick emerged from his darkroom at 3:00 a.m., exhausted but pleased with his day’s work. The photos for Boston’s Cityside magazine were spectacular. Maggie was going to be over the moon when she saw them. If it wasn’t so late, he’d call her and take them over to her apartment right now, just so she could see for herself how she’d inspired him, how well they’d collaborated together on his first photo shoot that didn’t involve live models. He was as proud of these pictures as he’d been of some of his award-winning fashion layouts. It had been fun trying something new. It had been even more fun getting to know Maggie D’Angelo.
He loved that cozy little nest she’d made for herself in a loft space with its soaring ceiling. She’d filled it with sumptuous overstuffed furniture and sensuous fabrics that suited her passionate personality. They’d made some pretty spectacular fireworks in the huge bed with its satin sheets and down pillows. He got hard just thinking about it.
Not tonight, genius, he told himself. He doubted he could muster the energy to drive across town, much less act on the steamy thoughts racing through his head. Tomorrow would be soon enough to get his fix of the woman who’d taken him to wild new places in bed, then followed up by cooking him a meal that he’d never forget. Maggie was one food writer who definitely knew her way around a test kitchen.
She also had a mouth on her that could drive a man insane. No, not like that. The woman had an opinion about everything. Sometimes Rick agreed with her. Often he didn’t, which made for some fairly lively pillow talk. He’d never before realized what an aphrodisiac stimulating conversation could be. It lent a lot more credence to the concept that great sex began in the head, rather than other regions of the male anatomy.
He grinned as he thought of the last heated discussion they’d had. It had led to some even more heated activity.
Damn. It had been nearly a week since he’d seen her, and his body had apparently been keeping track of every minute. He needed to get his head off Maggie and concentrate on something soothing, or he’d never get a wink of sleep tonight.
The one good thing about leading the kind of demanding life he led was that he’d trained himself to sleep anytime, anyplace. As he had for the past five nights, Rick dragged himself over to the cot he kept in the back room at his photography studio for late nights just like this and collapsed, asleep in seconds.
Unfortunately Maggie followed him straight into his dreams, which made for a restless night. As a result Rick was even more irritable when he walked into her office first thing in the morning, a large cup of her favorite latte in hand, only to discover that she’d taken off for parts unknown. “But I’m here,” Veronica offered a little too generously, batting eyelashes that had about four coats of mascara too many. “Maybe I can help you.”
The last was laced with unmistakable innuendo. Rick dodged the offer. “Is it like Maggie to just disappear like this?” he asked her assistant.
“No,” Veronica admitted grudgingly. She was evidently offended that her overtures weren’t going to lead anywhere.
“Where’d she go?”
“I don’t know.”
“When will she be back?”
Veronica shrugged. “No idea.”
Rick fought to keep impatience out of his voice. “You didn’t speak to her?”
“She left a note. She said she’d be checking in and to contact her by email if anything urgent came up. That’s all I know.”
Since it was evident that Veronica was tapped out in the information department, Rick left the photos for the food layout with her, then went downstairs to an over-priced coffee shop for the breakfast he’d been hoping to share with Maggie.
Something about this whole vanishing act of Maggie’s struck him as totally out of character. Not that he was an expert on Maggie D’Angelo, but he’d hoped to be, and he’d already picked up quite a few clues about her way of handling things.
For one thing, she met most crises head-on. He’d reached that conclusion when she’d seized on his offer to fill in on one of her photo shoots for a friend who’d had to leave town for an emergency. He’d made his reputation as a fashion photographer, so lighting and shooting food was hardly his area of expertise, but Maggie hadn’t hesitated.
Nor had she wasted time berating his friend who’d left her in the lurch. Apparently she’d figured if Rick could click the shutter, he would do. She’d been surprisingly unimpressed with his résumé.
In fact, he recalled with amusement, she hadn’t trusted him one damn bit. She’d all but crawled all over him to get a peek through the lens to assure herself he had exactly the shot she wanted. Normally Rick would have been offended by the interference, but he’d enjoyed the close contact a little too much to object too strenuously.
So, what would make a strong, opinionated woman suddenly vanish into thin air? Fear, he concluded. He’d beat a few hasty exits himself when a relationship had gotten too hot, so he recognized the symptoms. Heaven knew, their relationship had gotten hot fast, but for once he didn’t seem to be the least bit inclined to run. That made it all the more annoying that Maggie had.
Come to think of it, though, he should have anticipated this. He’d detected hints of vulnerability in her eyes from time to time while they were together, but had never called her on them. Obviously he should have.
What the hell, he concluded as he finished his coffee. It wasn’t too late. He had a few days to kill before his next assignment, and there was nothing he liked more than the thrill of the chase. Wherever Maggie had gone, he’d find her.
Maybe this thing of theirs would burn itself out like every other relationship in his life, but a tiny part of him seemed to be clinging to the surprising hope that it wouldn’t.
Maggie sat in the backyard swing at Rose Cottage with a glass of the finest Merlot and waited for serenity to steal over her. The Chesapeake Bay was calm, the evening balmy. She’d been here for an entire two hours and she was ready for some inner peace, dammit!
Unfortunately an image of Rick Flannery kept sneaking into her head. He had wickedly clever hands, and she could all but feel them on her skin. Despite the perfectly comfortable summer temperature, she shivered.
This simply had to stop. She was not going to become another one of Rick’s conquests. Okay, it was a little late for that. But she absolutely was not going to be one of those foolish women who thought their amazing encounters amounted to anything more than fabulous sex. She was not going to get involved with him. She was not going to get her heart broken. The tabloids were littered with the names of women he’d left behind. She had too much pride to join that list.
Normally when she had something on
her mind, she retreated to the kitchen and cooked, but she couldn’t seem to summon up the energy to bother. Besides, the cottage’s air-conditioning barely stirred the air, much less cooled it. When she’d called to announce her impending arrival, Melanie had warned her that it needed to be replaced, but Maggie had waved off her concern.
“I’m used to test kitchens with a couple of ovens going full blast. I’m not worried about the heat,” she’d said. “If it gets too oppressive, I’ll check on putting in central air.”
“Really? How long are you planning on staying?” Melanie had asked cautiously.
“As long as it takes,” Maggie had replied grimly.
Unfortunately, based on the way she was feeling after just a few brief hours, she had a hunch she could be here weeks, maybe months. Inner peace seemed a long way off.
She sighed and took another sip of the excellent wine, then glared at the Chesapeake Bay as if it were somehow responsible for not doing more to soothe her.
The sound of a car’s engine caught her ear, but she didn’t bother to move. Nor did she budge when two car doors slammed. It was bound to be Melanie and Mike and his daughter, the irrepressible Jessie. Maggie had known perfectly well that she wouldn’t be able to hide out from them.
Fortunately Melanie was the least likely of all of her sisters to pester her with intrusive questions. And Mike was a man of few words. With any luck, the only one doing much talking would be the little six-year-old chatterbox, who’d wormed her way into Maggie’s heart when Maggie had come down for the wedding just a few weeks ago.
Sure enough, it was Jessie who rounded the corner of the house first, coming at full throttle in Maggie’s direction.
“Aunt Maggie,” she hollered excitedly. “I didn’t know you was coming.” She crawled up on the swing and flung her arms around Maggie’s neck. “Did you bring me a present?”
Maggie laughed. “Of course I did. How could I possibly come to see my very favorite new niece without a present?”
Home at Rose Cottage Page 20
