Harlequin Romance April 2015 Box Set

by Michelle Douglas, Jessica Gilmore, Jennifer Faye

  She moistened her lips. Keep telling him stories. Don’t give him time to think about what he’s doing.

  ‘Grandma and Great-Aunt Edith are the reason I want to move back to the city. They’re eighty-five and eighty-three, respectively. I want to spend more time with them.’

  He glanced up. ‘So the cinemas, libraries, cafés—they’re just...?’

  ‘Attractive fringe benefits.’

  He continued to stare at her. It took an effort not to fidget.

  ‘They’re getting on. They’re independent, and in good health at the moment, but it won’t last forever. When the time comes I want to care for them. They spent so much of their lives looking after me and...well, we’re family and it matters.’

  Russ’s heart attack had taught her what the important things in life were and it wasn’t a lesson she meant to forget.

  Those blue eyes flashed and she swore she almost felt heat searing her skin.

  ‘Are you trying to make me feel guilty about Russ?’

  She blinked. ‘Of course not.’

  He pushed the bowl towards her and stood. ‘I think you’ll find your mix is ready.’

  ‘Don’t go, Mac. I’m not trying to make you feel bad about Russ. I tried that the other day and I’m not one to go back over old ground. I just wanted to make sure you knew how he felt—that while he won’t say anything he’s hurt that you haven’t been to see him. Now that you do know the rest of it is up to you.’

  ‘There is no “rest of it”, Jo. There’s nothing that can be done.’

  ‘You could at least tell him why. You could at least acknowledge that you’re letting him down and apologise. I understand you feel responsible for Ethan, but he’s not the only person who needs you.’

  This wasn’t the way to make him stay.

  She stuck out a hip. His gaze fixed on it for a heartbeat before returning to her face. She tried to control her breathing.

  ‘Look, I’m doing my best with your rotten recipes, aren’t I?’

  ‘They’re not supposed to be rotten.’

  ‘Then why do I keep dreaming of fish-finger burgers?

  He adjusted his stance. ‘Your point being...?’

  ‘I’m trying to help you out, so the least you can do is sit there and watch as I try to shape this unholy mess into pretty little macarons. Give me tips where appropriate and whatnot.’

  He folded his arms, lowered his gaze to her hip again. When he raised it his eyes had started to gleam. ‘I’ll do it for a boon.’

  A...what?

  ‘A kiss.’

  Something inside her softened. He smirked. She hardened it. Did he think she’d run away from the challenge? She hitched up her chin. She wasn’t in any mood to be browbeaten.

  ‘Done.’

  A kiss on the cheek. She bit her inner cheek to stop from smiling. Simple.

  ‘A kiss on the lips,’ he said, as if he’d read her mind.

  She could feel her eyes narrow. ‘I thought you said kissing was a bad idea?’

  ‘I was wrong. I want to kiss you. A lot. And for a long time. In fact I want to do more than kiss you, Jo.’

  Everything inside her thrilled to his words. She should be running for the hills, but she needed steady legs for running and hers were far from steady. The temptation to follow the beat of this particular drum flooded through her. It addled her mind, but it didn’t completely scramble it.

  ‘Fine, then. A kiss on the lips. But no hands.’ She didn’t need even the tiniest bits of their bodies touching. ‘And not until the macarons are in the oven.’

  ‘Deal.’

  He sat. Her heart chugged. This was craziness—absolute craziness. Why on earth did he want a kiss from a great lug like her?

  ‘You’re a beautiful woman.’

  She didn’t believe that for a moment, but she couldn’t deny the heat that flared between them. It didn’t make sense, but it existed all the same.

  She picked up a spoon.

  ‘Your hands are shaking.’

  She gritted her teeth and handed the spoon to him. ‘Cooking makes me nervous. Show me how you dollop this mess out to make pretty little domes.’

  ‘You don’t dollop it. You pipe it.’

  He flung open a kitchen drawer, seized a freezer bag and snipped off the end. She watched as he masterfully filled the makeshift piping bag and then proceeded to pipe a perfect row on her newly prepared cookie sheet.

  ‘We’ll take it in turns. You do the next row.’

  His hands were steady. Hers weren’t. That had to be the reason his rows looked so much neater than hers. And even while she lectured herself to pay attention and follow his instructions precisely all she could think about was what beautiful hands he had and what an idiot she’d been to make that no-hands rule for their kiss. It would be divine to have those fingers tracing across her naked flesh.

  ‘They’re ready to go in the oven now.’

  Her pulse fluttered up into her throat, jamming her breath and making her knees tremble. Don’t show weakness. She did what she could to force steel to her backbone. With an insouciance she was far from feeling she picked up the tray and moved towards the oven.

  ‘Wait.’

  She wanted to scream.

  Mac clicked his tongue. ‘I’d better check the oven temperature.’

  It reminded her of what she’d just achieved in here. Mac had all but made those macarons himself.

  He opened the oven door and put his hand inside. Apparently satisfied, he took the tray from her and placed it inside. When he turned back he wore the most satisfied smile she’d ever seen a male of the species wear.

  ‘Now you have to kiss me.’

  She might doubt her attractiveness to the opposite sex, but there was no denying the relish in Mac’s grin. That relish gleamed from his eyes, practically spilling from his every pore. Her throat started to tighten. She couldn’t trust it. Mac was a consummate actor.

  She slammed her hands to her hips. ‘You think it’s fair to blackmail a kiss from me?’

  ‘God, but you’re beautiful when you flare up like that.’

  The shrivelling started. ‘And now I know you’re not being serious. I’ve never been beautiful and—’

  ‘I’ve never understood the urge some men have to bend a woman over their knee and give them six of the best...until now.’

  Her eyes started from her head. Her throat thickened and she had to swallow a couple of times. ‘You wouldn’t dare!’

  He leaned in close, his eyes blazing back into hers. ‘You’d better think very carefully about what you say from here on. Believe me, Jo, you don’t want to test me on this.’ His lips hooked up with self-satisfaction. ‘After all, you don’t know what boon I might demand next time.’

  She couldn’t look away. ‘What makes you so sure there’ll be a next time? If those macarons turn out perfectly I won’t need your help again.’

  ‘You still need to master the filling—not to mention the assembling of the tower.’

  Heck.

  ‘And if I hear you make one more disparaging remark about your appearance I promise you, Jo, you will be sorry.’

  She believed him. He looked utterly and completely forbidding.

  * * *

  Mac wasn’t sure if anything had ever satisfied him as much as the gobsmacked expression plastered across Jo’s face.

  He leaned in closer to her again. ‘You are divine, desirable, and all I can think about is kissing you. And more. So much more.’

  ‘Stop.’ Her voice came out as a hoarse whisper.

  ‘You know how to make me stop, my beautiful, beautiful Jo.’

  Her eyes widened. He could see the struggle she had not to open her mouth and contradict him. His heart twisted at the u
ncertainty that flashed in her eyes, at the vulnerability she tried to hide. She was one of the most beautiful women he’d ever met and it hurt something inside him that she doubted her loveliness like this.

  ‘You have a face that poets have only ever dreamed of,’ he continued. ‘And, speaking of dreams... I dream constantly of unbuttoning your shirt and freeing your pretty breasts from your bra, feasting my gaze on them until I can’t resist, until I lose control and have to touch them, taste them, caress them. I want to give you the same physical pleasure I get from just looking at you. Oh, and, Jo...I dream of you losing control and—’

  Her lips slammed to his and Mac was determined to kiss her until she finally believed she was beautiful.

  Except her lips touched his and every thought, his very ability to think, dissolved as if rational thought had never existed. All that was left was sensation. Kissing Jo was like standing on a storm-tossed headland, with the wind whipping past and thunder clapping overhead and lightning creating jagged patterns across the sky. It was crazy and elemental and not to be withstood.

  He didn’t try to withstand it. He’d never felt more alive in all his life.

  He curved his hands around her face to deepen the kiss.

  ‘No hands,’ she murmured against his lips, before her tongue tangled with his and her hands went to the back of his neck to pull him closer.

  Where he was hard she was soft. Where he was famished she spread a banquet at his feet. Where he thirsted, she bathed him in water until he felt quenched. He never wanted to stop. Kissing Jo didn’t just make him feel alive. It made him feel free.

  He groaned when she eventually reefed herself out of his arms. She stood there staring at him, her chest rising and falling and her fingers pressed to swollen lips. He reached out a hand to her, but she backed up and shook her head.

  ‘Did I hurt you?’ he managed to croak out.

  She pulled her hand away. ‘Of course not. I... It’s just—’ She tried to glare, but it didn’t quite come off. ‘I thought you promised me gentlemanly behaviour?’

  So had he. ‘I lost my head.’ He glared too. ‘This whole thing we decided...that kissing is a bad idea...that’s a load of hogwash. Kissing you is the best idea I’ve ever had. I like kissing you, Jo. I like it a lot. I think there should be more of it.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Why not?’

  The glare she sent him should have withered him. ‘Too complicated, remember?’ she snapped.

  She swung away to grab a couple of sodas from the fridge. She set the one he guessed was meant for him on the far side of the table from her. She opened hers and took a long swig. He couldn’t drag his gaze from the long line of her throat. The longer he watched the thirstier he became.

  ‘Mac, please stop looking at me like that!’

  ‘I can’t help it.’

  And he didn’t want to help it. Right or wrong, he wanted to get naked with Jo as soon as humanly possible.

  ‘I want you and I love looking at you.’

  She scrubbed a hand down her face. ‘You’re deliberately trying to make this as difficult as possible.’

  ‘My body is on fire. If you want to call a halt to things, then fine. That’s your prerogative. But I want your body burning as badly as mine.’

  And he could tell from the tight way she held herself that it was. There was a remarkably simple solution to that. She just had to say the word. He continued to gaze at her with naked hunger, hoping she’d lose control and kiss him again.

  If he asked, would she stay? Here at the beach house? With him? He’d just made macarons and the world hadn’t caved in. Maybe—

  ‘Fine,’ she snapped. ‘I’ll simply remove myself from your presence.’

  ‘You can’t. You have macarons in the oven.’

  ‘Then you go somewhere else. Take Bandit for a walk or do some work.’

  He shook his head, his eyes never leaving hers. ‘My house. I can go where I want.’

  Her chin shot up and those smoky eyes blazed at him. His mouth watered.

  ‘You’re determined to remain here with me in the kitchen?’

  In answer he merely reached out and took possession of his can of soda.

  She slammed herself into a chair. ‘Fine, then I’ll raise something that’s been playing in my mind about Ethan.’

  Was she trying to tick him off? Fine. She might find it harder than she thought. ‘And what might that be?’

  ‘Just for a moment reverse your and Ethan’s situations. Pretend he’s the boss and you’re the apprentice.’

  He dragged a hand down his face. If only that were the truth. If only—

  ‘Imagine you’re the apprentice who screwed up—as apprentices do. Wouldn’t you want to see your boss? For starters, wouldn’t you want to know he was okay? And, secondly, wouldn’t you want to know he thought you important enough to visit?’

  Bile burned his stomach. Jo turned him on like no other woman ever had, but she was going to give him an ulcer too.

  ‘Or would I just be glad to never have to clap eyes again on the man who ruined my life?’

  She folded her arms. ‘Would you believe your life was ruined? And if you did would you hold anyone else responsible?’

  He had no idea, but according to Diana Devlin he had indeed ruined her son’s life.

  ‘Mac.’ Jo rested her forearms on the table, her eyes dark and troubled. ‘It occurred to me the other day that Ethan might, in fact, be plagued with the same guilt that torments you.’

  Every muscle he had froze.

  ‘He’s the one who accidentally let a platter of seafood slide into that vat of oil. He’s the direct cause for the start of the fire. You know it was an accident, and I know it was an accident, but does Ethan? Or does he hold himself responsible for the whole sorry mess?’

  The thought horrified him. ‘He can’t!’

  ‘Says who?’ She stabbed a finger at him. ‘How would you feel if the positions were reversed?’

  His mouth went dry. How would he feel if he’d been the one who’d dropped the iced seafood into the hot oil? Guilty as sin. His fingers tightened around his can of soda, crushing it. Bubbles fizzed up and over his hand to drip to the floor.

  He barely knew Ethan. They’d probably spoken a grand total of twenty words to each other. Like most of the new apprentices he’d been in awe of Mac.

  Mac cursed himself anew for not taking more time to put Ethan at ease for his first couple of appearances on the show.

  Jo came to stand in front of him. She smelled of sugar and macaron and soda. ‘You want me to believe I’m beautiful.’

  ‘Because you’re gorgeous,’ he croaked out.

  ‘And in the same way I want you to realise you’re not responsible for the accident.’

  His heart thudded. His temples pounded. And an ache started up behind his eyes. ‘Ethan’s not responsible either.’

  ‘No, he’s not. It was just an awful accident. I just hope he’s not lying in that godforsaken hospital bed of his beating himself up about it.’

  So did he.

  ‘Mac, you just helped me make macarons.’ She shook her head. ‘If we’re being honest, you made them. And the world didn’t come tumbling down around your ears, did it?’

  It took all his strength to swallow rather than howl. ‘What are you trying to say?’

  ‘I’m saying ring him.’

  But Mrs Devlin said...

  This mattered too much for him to get it wrong. He had to find out if Ethan blamed himself. If he did then Mac had to do everything he could to make the younger man see sense. To put his mind to rest.

  ‘Mac?’

  ‘I don’t want to do anything to make matters worse.’

  She handed him a tea towel to wipe his hands. Taking his can
from him, she set it on the table before wiping the spill at his feet. When the oven timer buzzed it made them both jump.

  He stood frozen as she pulled the tray from the oven and set it on the table.

  ‘Your rows are perfect.’ She pointed. ‘Look.’

  He stared at them and something inside him swelled at their perfection, at the knowledge that he’d made them.

  ‘Mine are less so.’

  ‘Practice. All you need, Jo, is practice.’ Practice at making perfect rounds. Practice at believing she was beautiful.

  I want you to realise you’re not responsible for the accident.

  Could she be right? He was too afraid to believe it—too afraid that Ethan would take one look at him and turn away in disgust. But what if he didn’t?

  His heart pounded so hard it hurt.

  Jo gestured to the macarons and then around the kitchen. ‘You love all this.’

  It was pointless denying it. She’d put that whisk in his hand and for a moment he’d felt as if he could fly. He’d tried to ignore it by focussing on her story about her family, but no matter how much he’d lied to himself it hadn’t worked. In much the same way it appeared that trying to turn his back on his passion hadn’t worked. He could blame his talent and his ambition all he liked, but it didn’t stop him from loving cooking as much as he ever had.

  ‘I expect Ethan must love all this too.’

  Something inside him stilled.

  She blew out a breath and fell into a chair. ‘I understand you wanting to help him. You’ve both suffered a dreadful accident that’s changed your lives. But...’

  Mac sat too, his mind a whirlwind. ‘This is a hell of a way to stop me from kissing you again.’

  She bit her lip. ‘I shouldn’t have started this. It’s none of my business.’

  He didn’t know if he was angry with her, or grateful, or something else entirely. ‘Don’t stop now.’

  She stared at him, her eyes dark. ‘We’ve got in each other’s faces so much this last fortnight, with me demanding you take better care of yourself and you taking issue with my body image, and me wanting to change your view of the accident and you trying to help me find a new direction career-wise. And then there’s Bandit, which has added a whole new dimension. I didn’t know any of this was going to happen, Mac, and it’s been intense. I’ve never experienced this kind of intensity with anyone in such a short time before.’