“They have everything under control,” he said from the doorway behind her.
Fran turned, and his somber expression tugged at her heart. It was so different from how he’d looked when he’d told her about the cabin’s romantic history. Obviously it held many happy memories. And now one not so happy.
She walked over to him and put her hand on his arm. “I’m sorry about this, Alex.”
“We were lucky.” He looked down at her. Between them, their mingled breath turned to a white cloud. He covered her fingers with his warm palm.
“You call that lucky?” she asked, angling her head toward where the crew was cleaning up.
He nodded. “Everyone in the family uses this place. And over the years we’ve established a list of things to do before leaving. The very last thing is shutting off the water. Someone forgot.” He shook his head, and the breath he released was visible in the cold air. “It could have been a lot worse if you hadn’t come up here.”
She’d thought about that, too. “One of the guys said it’s supposed to get even colder tonight. A storm’s coming in, so it really could have been bad. I’m glad I could help.”
“Me, too.”
“So much for R and R.” She saw her own breath as she sighed sadly. “I was looking forward to getting away. But now that you’re here, I guess I’ll head back down the mountain.”
He frowned. “I’m only staying until the plumber gets here. When he fixes the sink there will be running water. The cleanup crew is almost finished. They’re going to leave the fans going downstairs, but the second story where the bedrooms are is fine. There are separate heating units for each floor so it will be cozy and warm. You can still stay here. If you’d like.”
She liked, and couldn’t think of a single reason not to stay, since he was planning on driving back that night. She nodded. “Thanks, Alex. I think I will.”
“Good.” He glanced over his shoulder. “We’re just in the way now. But since I am here, let me show you around town before I leave. It’s the least I can do to apologize for the crisis.”
“It’s not your fault. No apology required.”
“I insist.”
Alex couldn’t remember a luckier break or when apologizing had been so much fun. After his mother had called to tell him about the crisis, he’d suspected her of matchmaking again. But she’d insisted that he was the last one on her family list. Everyone else was tied up and couldn’t go.
From the cabin, he’d called a plumber to fix the pipe. Then he and Fran had eaten a fast-food lunch. Now they were strolling along the main street of the Alpine village in the San Bernardino Mountains. Shop windows were filled with souvenirs and decorated with red hearts, white doilies and crimson crepe paper for Valentine’s Day, just a little over a week away.
As they walked, their arms brushed or fingers touched, and each time he almost took her hand in his. But somehow, that felt more intimate than the kiss in her apartment. The meeting of mouths he could chalk up to pure and simple lust. But holding hands implied being a couple, which inferred being in love. That wasn’t possible. Not a second time. When a Marchetti fell in love, it lasted a lifetime. At least that’s what he’d told himself after Beth died.
But that was before he’d met Fran.
Now he wasn’t so sure. He just knew there was a line between friendship and caring about someone that he didn’t want to cross. Kissing her was easy to explain. He was a guy. He hadn’t been able to help himself. But it was broad daylight now and they were in public. And the temptation of grabbing Fran’s hand was almost more than he could resist. If only her shining eyes, full lips and easy laughter didn’t grab him in the region of his heart. If only he didn’t want to pull her into his arms and kiss her senseless—broad daylight and the curious public be damned.
“Let’s go in here, Alex,” she said, stopping in front of a card store.
“Okay.” It would distract him, take the edge off his feelings.
The bell over the door tinkled as they went inside. In the front was a table of leftover Christmas decorations marked seventy-five percent off. The rest of the place had three dimensional red hearts and cupids festively displayed to draw the customer’s attention to the one day of the year set aside for lovers. His brother’s wedding day.
Alex envied Joe and Liz, and the rest of his siblings who had found contentment with someone. He and Luke were the only ones left. He couldn’t speak for Luke, but Valentine’s Day reminders made him wish a Marchetti got a second chance at love. The day set aside for lovers had a way of really making him feel alone.
Fran stopped at a stand of cards marked Wedding. “I need to get a card for Joe and Liz,” she explained.
Had she been reading his mind? “You don’t have to do that. I think helping with the food is enough,” he answered.
“They were kind enough to ask me to be their guest as well. It’s only polite to acknowledge their day.”
“Even though the idea of marriage gives you a case of hives?”
She picked up a card and absently scanned the words. “Just because I don’t want to fetch and carry for a man doesn’t mean I don’t believe it works for other people.”
“I see.” Funny, he’d sort of hoped she would say she’d changed her mind about marriage.
“Some people manage it successfully. Your sister, for instance. And your parents. And my parents, for goodness’ sake. But after what I did at my mother’s birthday, I guess you can see why it won’t work for me.” She slanted him a wry look. “I can’t subject some poor unsuspecting guy to a milk shower just because he asks me to bring him something.”
“Even if the poor unsuspecting guy knew what he was getting into? What if you fell head over heels in love?” he asked.
“That won’t happen,” she answered, turning away to put the card back.
Her response rankled. He told himself it had nothing to do with him. It was because she was made for love. He had tasted her passion and knew what a waste it would be if she turned her back on a relationship. If anyone knew how fulfilling it could be to love and be loved in return it was him. And he sensed that she had so much to give.
“How do you know?” he asked.
“How do I know what?”
“That you won’t fall head over heels in love?”
“Because I won’t let myself,” she answered with absolute conviction.
Fran couldn’t get the card-store conversation out of her mind for the rest of the day. In fact, the words came back in a more personal way as they were seated for dinner a little while later in a restaurant called Casual Elegance. A better name might have been the Love Nest. Maybe all the Valentine hearts and cupids had put that thought in her head. To say nothing of the hunk and a half sitting across the table from her. But this place was perfect for lovers, she thought. And she couldn’t help wondering if Alex had insisted that they come here because he’d taken her declaration to never fall in love as a personal challenge.
The quaint forest cottage, which they learned had been built in 1939, was like a country home. The forty-five seat restaurant was decorated with white lace curtains, colorful wreaths, dark wood furniture and glowing wall sconces. Classical music added an air of romantic sophistication.
The smiling hostess seated them and took their drink orders. The equally friendly server brought water, wine for her and a beer for him, and told them about the evening’s specials. He discreetly drifted away when Alex informed him they needed a few minutes.
“So what do you think of the place?” he asked, looking around as if he already knew what she would say.
“This is exactly what I want my restaurant to be like someday,” she answered.
“How do you know? You haven’t tasted the food yet.”
“It doesn’t matter. In my own place, I can control the quality of what is served. But this quiet ambience is what I aspire to.” She grinned. “Plus any restaurant that serves Baldamero dip—a creamy artichoke, spinach and Muenster cheese c
oncoction—with sourdough toastettes as an appetizer is probably gonna be dynamite.”
“You’re right.”
“Who’d have guessed there could be such an exceptional place tucked away here in the mountains?”
“Funny how we find what we’ve been looking for where we least expect it,” he answered, catching and holding her gaze.
The intensity in his eyes made her heart race. She felt as if she was sliding out of control down an icy mountain, desperate for a handhold to stop her descent and prevent imminent danger and pain.
“Tell me about Beth,” she blurted out.
She waited to see the shadow come over his face, but it never did. He calmly took his long-neck bottle of beer and lifted it to his mouth for a drink.
“What do you want to know?” he asked.
“What was it about her that you loved?” she asked simply.
He let out a long breath. “Why don’t you ask me the atomic weight of Denver?” he said. “That would be easier to answer.”
“Then tell me what you miss,” she suggested.
He thought for a few moments. “Her unselfishness. She was such a giving person. Always doing for me without complaint or expecting anything in return.”
“She sounds like a saint, or my mother. Come to think of it, my mother is a saint.” Unlike me, she thought, feeling uncomfortable somehow. “What did she look like?” she asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.
Without hesitation, Alex said, “An angel. Her hair was golden-blond, eyes as blue as the unpolluted sky here in the mountains. And tall, almost my height,” he finished.
Completely different from me, Fran thought, somehow feeling deflated.
“Can I ask you another question?”
“If I said no, would it stop you?” he asked, his mouth turning up at the corners.
“Probably not.” She couldn’t return his smile. “Why did you want to know how I know that I won’t fall head over heels in love?”
“Because, in my experience, it isn’t something you can prevent. It just happens. And I just don’t picture you as the type to be alone for the rest of your life.”
“But you saw for yourself how my family is. The way my mother takes care of everyone else and has lost herself. I’ve just figured out who I am.”
“No one can take that away from you,” he answered.
“Not consciously. But it would happen just the same. Why would I want to change?”
“I don’t see that falling in love has to change you,” he answered.
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Why are you trying to talk me into something I’ve been successfully avoiding for a long time?”
“I just think you’re made for love.”
“Well, you’re wrong.”
“Have you ever been in love?”
“I thought I was. The guy in cooking school,” she reminded him. At his nod she continued. “But that wasn’t even close.”
“Then you don’t know what you’re missing.”
She frowned. “Look, just because you sign my paycheck doesn’t give you the right to run my life.”
“I wasn’t trying—”
“Yes, you were. And here’s food for thought—if you can prevent yourself from falling in love again, why can’t I keep it from happening in the first place?” She let the statement hang there for a moment, then added, “In fact, it’s easier for me. I don’t have anything to compare it to.”
To her surprise, Alex just smiled at her. “See, it’s that passionate nature of yours that convinces me you need love.”
She stared at him for a few moments, then burst out laughing. “You’re impossible.”
“It’s my best quality,” he said, grinning.
“Remind me to quarantine you from Valentine’s Day displays.” Ditto for herself. She kept a firm grip on her heart as she let her gaze wander over his dark hair and smoldering eyes, the masculine shadow of beard on his cheeks and jaw. “You don’t look a thing like cupid.”
“No, but—”
She held up her hand. “I’m changing the subject now,” she announced.
“To what?” he asked.
She looked out the window. “To that,” she said, pointing. “I’m a southern California girl born and raised. But even I recognize that the white stuff falling from the sky is snow.”
He lifted the lace curtain beside him and frowned. “If that keeps up, it means we’re stuck with each other in the cabin tonight.”
“Stuck?” She raised one eyebrow. “An interesting choice of words.”
“It’s too dangerous to drive down the mountain in weather like this. Do you mind if I stay over with you?”
Of course she minded. “It’s your place,” she said, hoping her shrug had just the right amount of casual. “I can’t very well ask you to leave.” Even she heard the edgy note in her voice.
“Are you afraid to stay with me?” His gaze settled on her mouth and, if possible, grew more intense.
“Why would I be?” she asked.
“Because I kissed you.”
She groaned inwardly. Why did he have to bring that up? What had made him think of it? She thought they’d managed to get past the earth-moving experience without having to talk about it. “I’d forgotten all about that.”
His laugh told her he knew she was lying. “Okay, we’ll play by your rules. We’ll forget about kissing.”
“So which bedroom do you want me in?” Fran asked.
“Mine,” Alex answered, without missing a beat.
She whirled around and stared at him. Speechless, she felt her eyes widen.
“Did I really say that out loud?” he asked. “I was kidding.”
“You don’t look like you’re kidding.” Before he could mask his expression, she’d seen hungry longing on his face.
They were standing in the upstairs loft surveying doors number one, two and three. The open area was like a grownup male playroom. A pool table dominated the center of the space and on the wall beside it was a rack for the cues. The opposite wall held a dartboard. Leather sofas with hunter-green throws across the back rimmed the perimeter. There was a low hum from the fans still running downstairs. But the second floor was toasty warm and getting hotter by the second.
He had told her that this cabin was where several members of his family had fallen in love. He had told her he wasn’t looking for love. She’d counted on that. Now this Freudian slip about his bedroom. Could the icy road down the mountain be any more slippery than the situation she found herself in now?
“Even if I wasn’t kidding, what are you afraid of, Fran?”
“Myself.” She leaned back against the pool table and folded her arms across her chest. “I’m going to go out on a limb here, Alex. I don’t know if you feel it or not, but there’s this really annoying attraction sort of thing going on with us.”
He set her small suitcase down and moved in front of her. “Yeah. I sort of felt it. I’ve been out of circulation awhile, but I’m still breathing,” he said wryly.
“Awhile? Does that mean you are officially looking for a woman now?” Her heart pounded like the bass drum in the New Year’s Day parade.
“No.” He shook his head emphatically. “It means I think we should explore this annoying attraction. If we get it out in the open, deal with it, then we can let it go.”
He took a step closer. The wonderful masculine scent of his cologne surrounded her. The heat from his body reached out to her, drawing her to him. Her will to resist was stretched to the breaking point.
“Define explore,” she said breathlessly.
“I’ll demonstrate explore, but first I need to warn you that I did in fact agree to your rule. But my heart wasn’t in it.”
Before she could ask which rule he meant, he reached out and took her face in his hands, then bent slightly to touch his lips to hers. The contact made her stomach drop as if she were riding a white-knuckle ride at an amusement park. Her heart hammered against the wall of her che
st. He tunneled his fingers into her loose hair as he slowly, thoroughly, tenderly caressed her mouth.
As if they had a mind of their own, her arms uncrossed and she rested her hands on his chest. He settled his hand at her waist, drawing her to him. Fran’s breath caught as her resistance melted away. She relished the sensation of his other arm pulling her still closer and holding her tight. She was intoxicated by the mingling warmth of their bodies on a cold night, the way his kiss made her tingle from head to toe.
It had been so long since she’d been held like this. No. She’d been in a man’s arms before, but she’d never been held quite this way. Or maybe it was the fact that Alex was the only man who had ever made her feel so deeply. The emotion, whatever it was, was so profound that it frightened her. It made her wonder “what if.” That was a dangerous game to play.
But she couldn’t resist participating just a little longer. Beyond the circle of his embrace was a cold, lonely existence, and she wasn’t ready to go back there just yet.
Fran slid her arms up his chest, reveling in the restrained power there. She pressed closer and heard his quick intake of breath. A small smile curved her lips and he felt it.
“Two can play at this,” he said, his voice hoarse and his breathing ragged. “Like arm wrestling, a sneak attack is the way to achieve one’s objective.”
“And what’s your goal?” she whispered against his lips.
“I’ll show you.”
He nibbled the corner of her mouth, the curve of her jaw, then the underside, moving steadily toward her neck. When he pressed a kiss there, a lovely little spot just in the hollow beneath her ear, Fran couldn’t hold back a moan of pleasure.
“Mission accomplished,” he mumbled.
His mouth continued a delicious assault on her throat and the results turned her insides to liquid honey. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, and still she couldn’t seem to draw enough air into her lungs. Certainly it was the altitude in the mountains and the lack of oxygen that was causing her to behave this way. It was crazy. He seemed to have a power over her. Was it love?
Secret Ingredient: Love Page 12
