Harlequin Romance April 2015 Box Set

by Michelle Douglas, Jessica Gilmore, Jennifer Faye

  That wasn’t worth dignifying with an answer.

  ‘Then this—’ she gestured all around ‘—is easier than meeting with Ethan face to face, easier than witnessing his struggles, and easier then offering him the true moral support of a friend.’

  He had to swallow before he could speak, and he felt every last drop of anger draining away. ‘I have it on good authority that the last thing Ethan wants is to clap eyes on me.’

  ‘Ethan’s mother is not a good authority—and if you think she is then you’re an idiot.’

  He couldn’t speak past the lump that had stretched his throat into a painful ache.

  ‘Have you even spoken to Ethan yourself?’

  He hadn’t. Diana had demanded that he not plague her son, that Mac leave Ethan in peace. Call him a coward, but he hadn’t wanted to speak to Ethan—hadn’t wanted to hear the boy’s recriminations.

  ‘A real man would show up and say sorry.’

  It was Russ’s voice that sounded in his head now. He shied away from the thought, from what it demanded of him. What good would facing Ethan do for either one of them? He would do whatever he could not to upset the younger man. But he could check up on him—see how he was doing. He could ring Terry, the creative director, or one of the producers of the show. He’d bet someone from the old team would know.

  He could at least ring. Not Ethan, but one of the others. How hard could that be?

  ‘I do have one final burning question.’

  He blinked himself back into the here and now to find Jo halfway up the steps to the house.

  ‘Precisely what calamity do you think will befall us—’ she shot the words over her shoulder ‘—if you did go for a drive in your car, or went for a swim, or if you did go and cook some delicious meal?’

  She didn’t wait for an answer but continued straight into the house on those long, strong legs of hers.

  ‘So that was a hypothetical question, then?’ he muttered.

  Good. Because he didn’t have an answer for it.

  * * *

  Jo sensed the exact moment when Mac loomed in the dining room’s doorway. She didn’t turn from where she’d set down dishes of new potatoes and buttered green beans.

  ‘You’re just in time. Take a seat.’

  ‘On one condition.’

  She turned at that. ‘What?’

  ‘That we call a truce and promise not to holler at each other for the next hour.’

  The tension in her shoulders melted away. ‘Make it two and you have yourself a deal.’

  His lips lifted. Not quite a smile, but almost. Maybe they’d achieve one by the end of the meal.

  He took a seat. ‘Did you have any trouble with my instructions?’

  ‘I don’t think so. Proof is in the pudding, though, so to speak.’

  She went to retrieve their steaks, oddly nervous as she set his plate in front of him.

  He helped himself to potatoes and beans. Jo dug straight into her steak, slathered in béarnaise sauce. She closed her eyes. Oh, dear Lord, the sauce was to die for. She’d be lining up for his cookbook the moment it came out.

  ‘You’ve overcooked your steak.’

  She opened her eyes. ‘Try yours.’

  He did.

  ‘And?’ she prompted.

  ‘It’s perfect.’

  ‘For you, maybe.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘I prefer my steak properly cooked—not underdone, the way you seem to like it.’

  ‘This is not underdone. It’s how steak should be cooked.’

  ‘And the sauce?’

  He frowned. ‘You’ve cooked it a little too long and it’s started to separate.’

  Truly? She stared at it.

  ‘It’s a pity about the tarragon vinegar, and you used too much onion to flavour the reduction, but only an experienced foodie would know.’

  He frowned at her steak again, but she ignored the silent censure. ‘Relax, Mac.’ She reached for the beans. ‘I’m actually pretty chuffed with my efforts—and that’s the point, isn’t it?’

  He blinked.

  ‘I mean the people who try out your recipes—they’re going to adjust them to their own tastes, right? Like I did with my steak?’

  ‘I guess.’

  ‘But as long as they feel they’ve created a nice meal they’re going to be happy, aren’t they? Mission accomplished.’

  He straightened as if she’d zapped him. ‘You’re right. Nobody’s going to be assessing their creations with a mark out of ten.’

  ‘Uh, no.’

  She tried not to focus on the shape of his lips, or the scent of coconut that came from his still-damp hair. Hair that was a touch too long. Hair that had felt glorious when she’d run her fingers through it and—

  She reached for her glass of water and drained it.

  ‘I think I’ve been getting too hooked up on every detail.’

  He really did need to let up a bit.

  ‘But as long as my targeted audience is satisfied then that’s the best I can hope for.’

  Yup.

  He suddenly grinned. Her heart skidded, and then settled to pound too hard too fast. She took back her earlier wish that he’d smile. She wished he wouldn’t. Why couldn’t her heart just behave normally around him?

  ‘So, have you come any closer to discovering your new career path today?’

  This had become a habit—at dinnertime he’d throw suggestions at her about a new vocation.

  ‘Go on—thrill me,’ she said. Not literally.

  ‘Chef?’

  She wrinkled her nose. ‘I expect I’d need to like cooking for that.’

  ‘You don’t like to cook?’

  ‘I never became interested in it until I started watching your show. Russ made all of us watch it.’ She blew out a breath. ‘But I’m afraid you’re not going to make a convert of me. It’s all far too fiddly for my liking.’

  ‘Gardener, then?’

  ‘It’s a pleasant enough way to while away an hour or two, but a whole day of it? A whole week of it? Month after month? No, thanks.’

  Bandit pattered into the dining room. ‘Then maybe you’d like a stint as a dog breeder?’ Mac’s grin suddenly widened. ‘It could be the perfect fit. I discovered today that Bandit is, in fact, Bandita.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘He is a she. Bandit is a girl dog.’

  Her jaw dropped. ‘You’re joking?’

  ‘I take it you didn’t check before you agreed to adopt him...uh...her?’

  She stared at the dog. ‘It never occurred to me to check. I mean he’s...she’s...fluffy, and has lots of fur, and it’s not like it’s...um...obvious. I just—’

  She folded her arms and glared. ‘That nice old man told me Bandit was a boy.’

  ‘I suspect “that nice old man” has taken you for a ride.’

  ‘Why, though? What’s the big deal if Bandit is a boy or a girl? It certainly makes no difference to me, and—’

  She broke off at his laughter. He looked so different when he laughed.

  She moistened her lips. ‘What?’

  ‘Bandit is a girl dog who I suspect is going to be a mother in the not too distant future.’

  ‘Noooo...’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So that nice old man was just trying to fob Bandit off onto some poor sucker?’

  ‘Bingo.’

  And she was the sucker.

  She stared at Bandit. She stared at Mac. ‘We’re going to have puppies?’

  ‘Looks that way.’

  Puppies? She grinned. She ate some more steak. ‘Well, that’ll be fun.’ In the next instant she stiffened. ‘What else did that rotten old man lie about? Is she microchipped? Has she had he
r vaccinations?’ She set her knife and fork down. ‘Well, that’s that, then.’

  Mac frowned. ‘That’s what?’

  ‘It means I’ll have to take her to the vet’s tomorrow for a thorough check-up.’

  ‘It wouldn’t hurt,’ he agreed.

  She found herself grinning again. ‘Puppies, huh? Do you think there’s any money in dog breeding?’

  ‘Not really.’

  Oh, well. She’d think of something on the job front soon enough.

  She gestured to the food. ‘I don’t think this effort has disgraced me.’

  ‘Absolutely not.’

  But he didn’t meet her eye as he said it. Her heart started to thump. There was loads of time yet to learn all she needed to know about macaron towers.

  She swallowed. Béarnaise sauce one day. Macarons the next.

  * * *

  ‘What on earth are you trying to do?’

  Jo turned at Mac’s voice. Bandit twisted out of her grasp and ran a few paces away, where she turned to glare at Jo. Jo let a growl loose from her throat. ‘I’m trying to get Bandit into The Beast.’ She gestured to her car. ‘But Bandit doesn’t seem too enamoured with the idea of going for a ride. Either that or it’s the V-word—V. E. T.—that has her spooked.’

  She pushed her hair off her face, thinking she must look a sight before telling herself that it didn’t matter one iota what she looked like.

  ‘For heaven’s sake, how hard can it be? I’m bigger than her. I’m stronger than her. And if you make one derogatory comment about my intelligence in comparison to hers you’ll be getting fish fingers for dinner.’

  He raised his hands. ‘No comments, derogatory or otherwise. I’m hoping for a cheese soufflé. I just put the recipe on the kitchen counter.’

  She hoped it would taste as good as the words sounded coming from his lips. ‘Do I need to pick up any exotic ingredients?’

  ‘Not for today—but you’ll need these for later in the week.’

  He handed her a shopping list. Wrapped inside it was some housekeeping money.

  ‘Here, Bandit.’ He clicked his fingers and Bandit was at his side in an instant.

  Jo scowled. Typical female. She rolled her shoulders. Actually, when she thought about it, she couldn’t fault Bandit’s taste.

  ‘Up.’ He patted the front passenger seat and Bandit leapt up and settled there. Mac turned back to Jo. ‘There you go. I’ll see you when you get back.’

  He started to walk away and Bandit immediately leapt down to follow him.

  ‘Ahem...’

  Mac turned at Jo’s cleared throat. He shook his head. ‘C’mon, Bandit, let’s try that again.’

  This time when Bandit was seated in the car Mac shut the door. But when he started to walk away Bandit set up a long, mournful howl.

  ‘Don’t cry, lovely girl.’ Jo reached into the window to pat her. ‘It’s okay.’

  None of which made the slightest difference. Bandit continued to howl.

  Jo swung back to Mac. ‘She’s pregnant. I’m pretty sure that means she’s not supposed to get upset.’

  He lifted both arms. ‘What do you want me to do about it?’

  ‘It’s more than obvious what needs to happen.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘You’re going to have to come with us.’

  Mac’s face shuttered. ‘That’s out of the question.’

  Jo took one look at him and had to rest her hands on her knees for several long moments. Pulling in a breath that helped haul her upright, she opened the car door to release Bandit—who leapt down in an instant.’

  ‘I’m sorry, beautiful girl.’ She went to fondle Bandit’s ears, but the dog dodged away from her and for some reason it cut her to the quick. It was all she could do not to cry.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  Disbelief was etched across every line of Mac’s face. A face, it occurred to her now, that had become a little too familiar to her.

  She tried to swallow the lump in her throat, but only partially succeeded. ‘I’m not going to put her through that kind of distress. Not while she’s in such a delicate condition.’ Her voice came out high and tight, due to the lump. ‘She’ll hurt herself, or spontaneously abort. Or...’ She shook her head, her stomach churning. ‘I’m not going to be responsible for that.’

  She walked past Mac and tried to hold her head up high.

  ‘But... But...’ he spluttered.

  She stopped and waited, but he didn’t say any more. She turned. ‘Are you waiting for me to bully you? If you are you’ll be waiting a long time. You’re an adult. You know what’s right and wrong.’

  His jaw went tight and a tic started up beneath his right eye.

  ‘I’m going to conserve my energy for when I have to contend with Bandit and her puppies when I eventually leave.’ That was going to be awfully traumatic for poor Bandit. The thought made her stomach churn even harder.

  ‘You can’t take her when you leave.’

  Jo started to stalk away, but he strode after her.

  ‘She loves it here. Jo, I... Look, I know it’s unfair, but she’s adopted me—bonded with me. I didn’t mean for it to happen.’

  From the corner of her eye she saw the weak excuse for a smile that he shot her.

  ‘I’ll make a deal with you. You keep the puppies and Bandit stays here with me. I’ll look after her—I promise.’

  ‘Look after her?’ She whirled to face him. ‘You can’t even take her to the vet! I can’t in any conscience leave her here—even though she loves you and merely tolerates me. Even though I know she’ll be way happier here than she will be with me.’

  He took a step back from her, his mouth pressed so tight it turned his lips white.

  ‘I don’t know why I expected something better from you. You wouldn’t even visit your brother when he was in hospital, though you had to know it was the thing he most wanted.’

  He’d frozen to stone.

  There was no room in his life for compassion or love or responsibility to his family...just a manufactured guilt that took over his every breathing moment.

  She turned away, not knowing why her heart hurt so hard.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  JO COUNTED OUT the eggs she’d need for the soufflé and had started to read the ‘Hints on soufflés’ section of a cooking website she’d found when voices floated in through the open front door.

  Voices? She lifted her head and frowned. Surely not? She hadn’t heard voices—as in more than one person speaking, having a conversation—since she’d arrived. She didn’t count the way either she or Mac spoke to Bandit. Or her and Mac’s often fraught and adversarial conversations.

  He doesn’t kiss like an adversary.

  He kissed like a dream.

  Stop it!

  She cocked her head and listened harder. There was definitely more than one voice.

  The voices grew stronger as she marched through the house. She pulled up short of the front door when she found Mac talking to an unknown man by the front steps—a man carrying what looked like a doctor’s bag.

  Mac didn’t appear the least bit self-conscious. Could the man be an old friend?

  She looked at the bag again and then it hit her. A vet! Mac had called out a vet.

  She had to fight the urge to race outside and throw her arms around him. Oh, he’d love that, wouldn’t he? Not. She straightened her shirt and then pushed outside as if it what was happening in front of her was the most normal thing in the world.

  Could Mac conquer his fear of what the world thought of him one person at a time? She crossed her fingers behind her back.

  She strode across the veranda. ‘I thought I heard voices.’

  ‘Jo, this is Daniel Mi
chener. He’s the local mobile vet.’

  She hadn’t considered for a moment that this area would warrant a mobile vet.

  ‘There are a lot of hobby farms—not to mention dairy farms—in the area,’ Daniel explained when she said as much. ‘It’s a bit hard to bring a cow, horse or an alpaca into the surgery.’

  Which made perfect sense when she thought about it. ‘Well, I’m really glad you can give Bandit a once-over.’

  ‘I understand you adopted her and know nothing of her history?’

  Jo grimaced. ‘I was told she was a purebred seven-year-old male border collie, microchipped, neutered, and fully vaccinated.’

  He laughed. ‘Let’s take a look at her, then.’

  Mac played veterinary nurse, soothing Bandit and convincing her to co-operate with Daniel. He made a rather nice veterinary nurse, with those big hands gentle on the dog’s neck. She shivered at the way he’d run a hand down Bandit’s back while talking to her in low, reassuring tones. The sight of the broad man with the small, fine-boned, not to mention pregnant dog made her heart pitter-patter.

  He glanced up and caught her staring, raised an eyebrow. She shrugged and forced her gaze back to Bandit, tried to ignore the way her breath hitched in her chest.

  The vet gave Bandit a clean bill of health. ‘You should expect the puppies in about a month.’ He clicked his bag shut. ‘My best guess, looking at her teeth, is that she’s three years old—and this is not her first litter, so she’ll probably be a good mother.’

  Not her first?

  She moved in a little closer and Mac’s scent—all warm cotton, coconut and dog—hit her. It was all she could do not to swoon. She had to step back again.

  ‘Can you tell how many puppies she’s going to have?’

  He shook his head. ‘With a border collie, though, you can expect somewhere between four and eight.’

  Eight!

  The vet handed her his bill. Mac stood beside her as they waved him goodbye.

  ‘Can Bandit stay here with me?’ Mac said without preamble. ‘I promise I’ll look after her.’

  ‘Yes.’

  He plucked the bill from her fingers. ‘She’s my dog now, so I’ll take care of her bills.’ He strode back towards the house. ‘But those puppies, Jo...’ he called over his shoulder. ‘They’re all yours.’