“Gianna—” Her name was a caress riding on a satisfied sigh.
“For the record—” She kissed his chin and the sexy scruff scraped her passion swollen lips in the nicest possible way.
“Yes,” he urged.
“Boys really do get smarter.”
She felt the laugh vibrate through his chest where their bare skin touched. Ordinarily that would have made her smile, but she couldn’t quite manage. Boys might be smarter, but girls were notorious for making stupid choices. She had the emotional scars to prove she’d made the same ones multiple times.
She just hoped this wasn’t a different kind of mistake, the kind that would make her sorry in the morning.
Chapter Five
Shane woke when Gianna mumbled in her sleep and moved restlessly against him. They were spooning, a term he used in cooking but liked a whole lot better in this context. If finding out his biological father was a criminal in jail was the worst thing since coming to Thunder Canyon, this was the best. He nuzzled her silky red hair and grinned.
Light was just beginning to creep into the room around the edges of the white blinds over the window and the number on the clock by the bed made him groan. Because his business was primarily done in the evening, he always slept in. His day usually started much later than this, but he had to admit it had never started better.
Gianna stretched sleepily then went still after her legs brushed against his. Without looking over her shoulder she asked, “Shane?”
“You were expecting someone else?”
“No.” She cuddled into him. “I was sure I’d dreamed last night.”
“A nightmare?”
“Oh, please. It was wonderful and you’re very aware of that. I refuse to feed your ego.”
“Then how about feeding me some breakfast?”
“I’ll try. After I throw on some clothes. Meet you in the kitchen. Five minutes. I get the bathroom first.”
Before he could ask a question or form any sort of protest, she’d thrown back the covers and raced from the bed. While waiting his turn, Shane thought about the situation. Sex was a very efficient recipe for stress relief and his body was really relaxed for the first time in longer than he could remember. That’s not to say he hadn’t been with women, but the vibe was different with Gianna.
Maybe it was more intense because their time together would be short. She wasn’t staying and if information came out about who he really was, he wouldn’t have to make a choice about his contract since it wouldn’t be renewed. All he knew for sure was that as long as the two of them were in town, he wanted to see her.
Within the designated time frame, he joined her in the kitchen. She was wearing the same fleece pants, thermal top and robe from last night, which was both good and bad. She looked every bit as cute and he wanted to take the clothes off her again.
“Coffee?” She stood in front of the machine on the counter and glanced over her shoulder. When she met his gaze, a lovely blush stole over her cheeks as if she knew what he’d been thinking.
“I’d love it,” he said.
“Coming right up.” She added water, then put a filter and grounds in the appropriate place before pushing the start button.
“What did you mean about trying to feed me breakfast?”
“I’m not sure what I’ve got to cook,” she explained.
“Let me have a look.”
“Be my guest.” She laughed. “Oh. Wait. You are my guest. And I’m the worst hostess on the planet if I let you do the cooking. There just may not be much in the refrigerator.”
He slid her a wry look. “I won a reality cooking show by whipping up a gourmet meal with jelly beans, popcorn, granola, shrimp and instant mashed potatoes.”
“Let me just say—eww.” She folded her arms over her chest. “But far be it from me to stand in your way. Go to it, chef boy.”
He lifted one eyebrow. “You do remember I’m the boss?”
“Not right now, you’re not,” she shot back. “At this moment you’re my—guy in the kitchen.”
“Good to know. Let’s see what guy-in-the-kitchen has to work with.”
The contents of her pantry and refrigerator were limited. It was the female equivalent of a bachelor’s. Half a bottle of white wine. He grabbed the open milk container and took a sniff that told him it was still good. Individually wrapped slices of cheese. A couple of limp celery stalks and a few green onions. There was a loaf of bread touting fiber, low calories and weight control. Thank God she had half a dozen eggs.
He pulled the ingredients out and set to work with the cutting board, frying pan and a silent, solemn promise to equip her kitchen better. Starting with a decent set of knives.
He held up an old, dull one. “This is where it all starts. I recommend high carbon, stainless steel. It’s the best of both worlds. Carbon is tough and has a great edge. Stainless steel keeps it from rusting and taking care of it is a lot less effort.”
“Good to know. Can I do anything besides an emergency run to the kitchen gadget store?” she asked.
“Set the table and stay back.”
Not that he couldn’t work with her underfoot. The Gallatin Room kitchen was always swarming with people, a well-choreographed cauldron of activity, but experience had taught him how to tune everything out. He’d only ever been unsuccessful at doing that when Gianna was around.
He glanced at her in that oddly sexy oversize robe and felt his blood heat like butter in a frying pan. Now that he’d explored the curves under her quirky outfit, if she got any closer to him, resisting her would annihilate his concentration.
Fifteen minutes later they sat at her dinette just big enough for two and ate toast, cheese omelets and coffee. Gianna took a bite and made a sexy little sound of appreciation, not unlike something he’d coaxed from her in bed.
“This is so good, Shane.”
“You sound surprised.”
“Not at you. Just that it was possible from my survival rations.” She chewed another bite. “Mmm. I can only imagine what you could whip up after a trip to the market.”
Which reminded him... The reason they were here and not at his place was because she had an early day.
“So, you’re up before God,” he said. “What’s on your agenda today?”
“I have to start my Christmas shopping.”
“Really? By yourself?”
“Unlike the great and powerful Shane Roarke I don’t have minions to do it for me.”
“That’s a shame.”
“No kidding.”
“Want some help?” He wasn’t a fan of shopping but he was becoming a fan of Gianna’s. He wanted to hang out with her even if that involved poking through stores and carrying bags. “I could be your minion.”
“Singular?” Her auburn eyebrow lifted slightly. “By definition doesn’t minion mean more than one?”
“How about if I chauffeur? Then it would be me and the car.”
“Oh, gosh, I forgot. What with us— After we— Well, you know.” She looked at him, blushing like crazy. “My car died last night.”
He’d never heard sex described as us, we and you know, but definitely understood how it could push everything else from one’s mind.
“Since you don’t have wheels, that’s even more reason to let me come along. I’ll make a phone call and have the local garage bring your car back from the dead while you take care of Christmas.” Sipping coffee, he watched her mull it over. “Gia
nna?”
“Hmm?”
“Don’t think it to death. Just say yes. It’s a good offer.”
“It’s an outstanding offer and I’d be all kinds of crazy to turn it down. Thank you, Shane.” She stood and leaned over the small table to kiss his cheek. “My hero.”
Right now, maybe. For as long as she didn’t know the identity of his father. And there was no reason she should, even if he actually found out who his mother was. Right now all he knew was her first name. Grace.
A problem for another day. At this moment Gianna was looking at him as if he had wings and a halo. It felt really good and he didn’t want that to change. Keeping his secret was the best way to do that.
* * *
Gianna was rocking a pretty awesome post-sex, post-breakfast glow while she waited for Shane to pick her up. She was scouting out Real Vintage Cowboy, the shop below her apartment, which was where they’d agreed to meet after he went home to shower and change.
There was a Christmas tree in the window decorated with ornaments made out of clothespins fashioned into reindeer, beads strung together into snowflakes, crystal dangles from old lamps and tin Santas and sleighs. Meandering the main aisle, she admired a saddle lovingly repaired and polished, a turn-of-the-century, repainted Singer sewing machine and a milk can holding a lamp as an example of how it could be used as an end table.
Everything looked beautiful to her this morning. She was happy. Being with Shane was magic and something about eating breakfast together was more intimate than sex. Her world was bright with possibilities and she believed with every fiber of her being that it really was the most wonderful time of the year.
Catherine Clifton Overton was standing by the far wall, near the cash register. She saw Gianna and smiled. “Hey, tenant.”
“Merry Christmas, landlady.”
The woman she paid her rent to was a willowy brunette with the warmest, darkest chocolate-colored eyes Gianna had ever seen. She was wearing a turtleneck top that came down over her hips and a coordinating gauzy skirt that skimmed the top of her signature cowboy boots. A leather belt cinched her small waist and pulled the whole outfit together perfectly.
Gianna’s style leaned more to black-black jeans, gray sweater, black boots, leftovers from her days in New York. Compared to her landlady she felt as if she was on the fashion police’s most wanted list.
“So how’s married life?” she asked.
“Absolutely perfect.” Catherine had a dreamy expression on her face as she glanced at the wedding and engagement rings on her left hand. “Cody makes me so happy.”
“You’re a lucky woman. I envy you.” Gianna figured if she couldn’t stop the stab of jealousy, it was best to be up-front about it. “He’s a great guy.”
At this point in her life she’d expected to have what Catherine did—a growing business and marriage to the man of her dreams. She was a failure on both counts. As she saw it, the lesson was to not have expectations. Take it one day at a time. And today she was going to be happy.
Just then the bell over the front door rang and in walked Shane Roarke.
“Speaking of great guys...” Catherine arched an eyebrow. “I wonder what he’s looking for this time.”
“He told me about checking out your store.” Gianna waved at him and he started toward her across the long room.
The other woman lowered her voice. “He was browsing and we ended up talking. He had a lot of questions about Arthur Swinton and the last owner of this place.”
“Jasper Fowler?” Gianna had heard about the crazy old man who had conspired with Swinton to steal money and ruin the Traub family. The two were currently in jail.
Catherine whispered. “Vintage items all have a story. Shane just might be a man who appreciates that.”
That implied he had a story, but Gianna was more interested in admiring the man. More caught up in the way her heart skipped and her breath caught at the sight of him. The broad shoulders and long legs wrapped in designer jeans would make it easy to mistake him for a cowboy. This was Montana after all, a little off the beaten path for a celebrity chef.
He walked up beside her and smiled at Catherine. “Nice to see you again.”
“Same here. Can I help you find something?”
“I just did.”
Gianna shivered at the sparkle in his eyes when she met his gaze. “My car is being uncooperative, as usual. Shane volunteered to take me Christmas shopping.”
“Really?” Catherine looked impressed. And curious. What woman wouldn’t be? “Most guys would rather take a sharp stick in the eye.”
“I guess I’m not most guys.” He grinned at them.
“My husband could take lessons from you.”
“Didn’t you just tell me he’s perfect?” Gianna said.
“In most ways,” the other woman agreed. “But, like the average man, he’s a little shopping-challenged.”
“I never said I’d be good at it,” Shane corrected. “Just promised to do the driving.”
Catherine tapped her lip as she studied him. “Do you give cooking lessons? Maybe I could persuade you to teach my husband a couple easy recipes.”
“I’m happy to help out.” He looked at Gianna. “Speaking of helping, I made a phone call. The garage is working on fixing your car as we speak and it will be delivered back here today. They’re going to leave the keys with you, Catherine, if we’re not back. Is that okay?”
“Of course. And in the spirit of good deeds—” she looked from him to Gianna “—do you know about Presents for Patriots?”
“I’ve already signed up to volunteer,” Gianna answered, knowing what was coming. “Most of The Gallatin Room employees have.”
“I haven’t heard about this,” Shane said.
“That’s because you’re not an employee,” she shot back. “You’re the boss.”
“What is it?”
“Last year,” Catherine said, “people in town got together and wrapped donated gifts for military personnel serving overseas who couldn’t get home for Christmas.”
Shane nodded approvingly. “Sounds like a terrific event.”
“You should come by if you’re not too busy,” the other woman suggested.
“I will. Where?”
“The Rib Shack. It’s D. J. Traub’s pet project.” Maybe it was from working around things that all had a story, but Catherine warmed to telling one. “His mother, Grace, died when he was just a boy and he had difficulty connecting with his dad. They reconciled before Doug Traub died, but because of what he went through, family is very important to him.”
“Okay.”
It was one word, but Gianna heard something in Shane’s voice and looked at him. His easygoing, relaxed manner had disappeared and there was tension in his jaw.
Catherine didn’t seem to notice. “D.J. feels that we’re all part of the American family and the military fights to preserve that for us. Presents for Patriots is his way of giving back to them for all they do.”
“A worthy cause.” Shane looked down at her. “Are you ready to go?”
“Actually, yes. There’s a lot to do and a limited amount of time to do it in. Yesterday I made a date to meet my mother and sister for a late lunch. You’re welcome to join us if you have time.”
“Then we should get started.” Shane didn’t accept or decline, but put his hand on her lower back, a courtly gesture except she could feel him urging her to leave. “Have a good day, Catherine.”
“You, too.” She smiled. “Or just grit your teeth and get through it.”
As they headed for the door Gianna didn’t feel ready for this expedition at all. It was possible she’d imagined the shift in Shane’s mood, but not likely. The contrast was too stark. He’d arrived and was his usual friendly, charming self. When the subject of volunteering came up, he’d turned dark and broody. What was up with that?
Envying Catherine Overton hadn’t punctured her happy balloon, but an “aha” moment did the trick. She’d slept with this man less than twelve hours before but still didn’t really know very much about him.
Shane’s SUV was at the curb in front of Real Vintage Cowboy and he held the door open for her. She could feel his body language change as soon as they walked outside. He was more relaxed, which made her think whatever had brought on the mood was somehow connected to Catherine or the store. Gianna slid into the car and couldn’t contain a small sigh of pleasure as her body connected with the butter-soft leather.
When he was in the driver’s seat, engine on and purring, Shane said, “Where to?”
Gianna returned his smile and pulled the list out of her purse. “Mountain Bluebell Bakery. It’s at the corner of Nugget and Main in Old Town. Just east of the Tottering Teapot and ROOTS.”
“Got it.”
He put the car in gear, then glanced over his left shoulder before easing out into the stream of light traffic. Only the drifts of snow still in the shade were evidence of last night’s storm. The street was clear, the sky was blue and the bad vibe was behind them.
“So, on this shopping expedition, I’m surprised the Bakery is the first stop. You’ve got a sweet tooth all of a sudden? Need an energy boost so you can shop till you drop? Or is there something I need to know?”
“Only that you should be warned. This will probably be the easiest shopping of the day. I’m ordering something to send to a friend in New York.”
“Male or female?” he asked.
“What?” She looked at him, the chiseled profile that made her want to touch his face.
The Maverick's Christmas Homecoming Page 7
