Harlequin Romance April 2015 Box Set

by Michelle Douglas, Jessica Gilmore, Jennifer Faye

  He dragged a hand down his face.

  She straightened, her voice suddenly tart. ‘And you needn’t interpret that as me being in love with you, or something stupid like that, because that’s not what I’m talking about. This is... It’s not friendship, but there are elements of that. It’s not lust, though that’s part of it.’

  She shook her head. ‘Maybe it’s the proximity and the isolation and the fact we’ve both recently been through something big that’s created a kind of melting pot here.’ Her chin lifted. ‘Do you know what I’m talking about or am I just—?’

  ‘No.’

  She glanced down at her hands.

  ‘I mean yes,’ he growled, wanting to wipe that look from her face. ‘I was saying no to your alternative. I’m saying yes, I understand what you’re trying to say. I can’t explain it but there’s a connection.’

  And he didn’t want there to be one. Even though he liked her.

  She grasped at the air, as if searching for the right words. Her gaze returned to his—troubled, puzzled, dazed. ‘When I think about some of the things I’ve said to you I’m appalled at myself. I don’t feel like this—the here and now we’re in—is the real world.’

  He eased back in his seat. His heart thudded in his ears. ‘There’s something else you want to say that you wouldn’t normally say in the real world, as you put it—isn’t there?’

  She slumped back before straightening again. ‘What the heck? In for a penny... Helping Ethan realise there’s a future—that he has a future to look forward to—wouldn’t that be a fine way to help him?’

  Yes. Yes, it would.

  ‘You both share a passion for cooking, right? Well, maybe Ethan would like to help you work on the cookbook.’

  ‘He’s still in hospital. He’s still recovering.’

  She ignored that. ‘Maybe down the track the two of you could start up your own cooking show on TV—do it the way it should’ve been done in the first place.’

  His heart tried to pound out of his chest. He leapt from his chair. ‘We’d be considered freaks.’

  ‘Is that how you see Ethan?’

  Of course it wasn’t. But the general public wouldn’t be so kind.

  ‘Is that how you see yourself?’

  A fist tightened about his ribcage

  ‘You tell me I’m beautiful and expect me to believe you, but you refuse to see yourself fairly.’

  He was scarred. End of story.

  But he didn’t repel her. He met her gaze and swallowed. Maybe other people would see past his and Ethan’s scars too.

  ‘Call him, Mac. See how he’s doing. Give him something to live for.’

  She folded her arms when he didn’t say anything. He couldn’t say anything. A lump the size of a frozen pizza throbbed in his throat.

  ‘Promise me you’ll at least think about it?’

  He gave a curt nod, feeling bruised all over.

  ‘And tomorrow I think we should try something different. Tomorrow you’ll come down here and cook one of your complicated recipes, barking your instructions as you go, and I’ll jot them down.’

  Did he dare?

  ‘Mac, it’s time to decide what’s more important—your self-imposed punishment or getting this cookbook written.’

  With that she left.

  Mac fell back into his seat. He let out a long, slow breath from cramped lungs. Man, that really had been one hell of a way to stop him kissing her.

  CHAPTER NINE

  THE NEXT DAY Jo swept, vacuumed and beat rugs. She did three loads of laundry, washed dishes and wiped down shelves. She cleaned windows—inside and out. This close to the coast, the easterly sea breezes laced the windows with salt. They needed cleaning. A lot.

  She tried to fill her mind with salt, dust and cleaning, but over and over it returned to Mac and yesterday’s kiss, to the words Mac had spoken, to the hunger in his eyes. And every single time her heart fluttered up into her throat, her thighs softened and her eyes burned. Did he really think her beautiful?

  She collapsed on the top step of the veranda and stared at the glorious scene in front of her, hugging a bottle of window cleaner and a cleaning cloth to her chest. She could look at it any way she wanted, but Mac wasn’t feigning his desire for her. She might not be able to explain the attraction between them, but that didn’t make it any less real. He found her attractive. Beautiful.

  He wanted her.

  You are divine, desirable and all I can think about is kissing you.

  When he’d said that he’d made her believe it. Hearing his voice in her head now made her believe it. When she saw herself reflected in his eyes she liked what she saw. He had no reason to lie. So why couldn’t she keep on believing it?

  Her heart did a strange little skip.

  Bandit came to sit beside her and even tolerated it when Jo fondled her ears. ‘Has he shut you out too, girl?’

  Jo hadn’t clapped eyes on Mac once so far today and...she glanced at her watch...it was nearly three o’clock. He’d been down for coffee while she’d been pegging clothes on the line—and he’d taken the entire pot back upstairs with him. He’d obviously made himself sandwiches and taken them back up to his room too, while she’d vacuumed the front rooms. She knew he was up there. She’d heard his heavy footfalls as he’d paced back and forth, back and forth.

  She scowled. It was time for him to come out of this self-imposed exile and live again.

  ‘If he doesn’t come down to cook one of those absurd recipes of his, Bandit, then he’s getting fish fingers for dinner.’

  ‘Now, that would be a fate worse than death.’

  Bandit raced across to the door.

  Jo took her time turning around.

  It still didn’t ready her for the shocking bolt of heat that stabbed through her. She found herself repeating over and over: One-night stands are bad. One-night stands are bad.

  She didn’t mean to be judgmental. One-night stands were all well and good between consenting adults. But instinct warned her that a fling with Mac would be a very bad idea. He made her feel too much. Which was a real shame, because she’d be prepared to pay a lot for the physical release he could give her, but in this instance she suspected the price would be too high.

  ‘How are you on this fine day, Jo?’

  Was it a fine day? She went to rise, but he motioned for her to remain where she was before taking a seat beside her.

  ‘I was hoping you were about to put me to work,’ she said. ‘That would make it a fine day.’ His eyes suddenly gleamed and she choked. She wanted to add, In the kitchen—writing down your recipes... but decided it would be wiser to remain silent.

  ‘Soon,’ he said, growing sober. ‘I think the suggestion you made yesterday has a lot of merit. So I’ll cook and you can make notes.’

  Yes! And tomorrow she’d hassle him to show her how to assemble the macaron tower. ‘Smart move. It’ll save you from the fish fingers.’

  ‘First I want to clear the air about yesterday’s kiss.’

  Was that even possible?

  ‘Or at least try to explain myself.’

  The shrivelling started—the dying inside. She stared directly out in front of her. Here it came—the let-her-down-gently speech. For a short time she’d believed... She shook her head and swallowed.

  ‘I don’t want you to think I want a fling with you, Jo.’

  Ditto. But she remained silent. She didn’t have the heart to take part in the conversation. If she had the energy she’d cut him off and ask if they couldn’t just get on with the cooking.

  ‘I like you, Jo. I like you a lot. And, yes, I want to make love with you. But you deserve more than that.’

  Yeah, right. Blah, blah, blah.

  ‘I want more than that.�
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  She frowned. That wasn’t part of the usual routine. Where was he going with this?

  He bumped her shoulder gently with his. ‘I want more than that with you, Jo.’

  She blinked. She blinked at the beach, at a flock of seagulls, at the field of native grass.

  ‘Are you ever going to look at me?’

  She turned to meet his gaze—his deadly earnest and vulnerable gaze. She had to swallow before she could speak. ‘You’re saying... Are you saying you want to pursue a relationship with me?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Something inside her started to sing.

  ‘But...’ he added.

  The singing stopped. A weight dropped down on her. She swung back to face the front.

  ‘For heaven’s sake, Jo, I’m not trying to blow you off. I’m trying to tell you how I mean to go forward from here. I...I understand that I might not figure in your plans for the future, and that just because a relationship with you is what I want, it doesn’t mean you’re going to fall in line with me.’

  She had to look at him. She couldn’t help it.

  He was glaring down at his clenched fists, the pulse at the side of his jaw was throbbing, and his mouth was pressed into a thin line. This man... Her heart gave a giant kick. This man was tied up in knots. Over her!

  She swallowed. ‘You know I want you, Mac.’

  Blue eyes lasered into hers.

  ‘And I suspect you know that I like you too?’

  He gave a cautious nod.

  ‘So keep talking—because, believe me, I’m all ears.’

  He straightened, and then he smiled, and it pierced through to the centre of her.

  He reached out and took her hand, wrapped it between both his own. ‘There are some things I need to clear up before I’m free to follow my heart.’

  ‘Ethan?’

  ‘I need to make sure he’s okay. I need to help him in any way I can.’

  He wouldn’t be the man he was if he didn’t want that. She wouldn’t like him half so much otherwise. Like? Oh, yes, she liked him a lot. A whole lot. And in this particular moment that thought didn’t scare her.

  ‘I have to go see him.’

  Wow. She straightened.

  ‘I mean to leave tomorrow. I’m not sure how long I’ll be gone.’ His hand tightened about hers. ‘I’m not sure...’

  ‘You’re not sure...?’ she pressed when he hesitated.

  ‘If you’re prepared to wait.’ He stared at their interlaced hands. ‘I don’t know if you’re prepared to wait until I return from seeing him. I’m not sure you’re prepared to wait and see what my life and career may or may not develop into.’ He lifted his gaze to hers, his eyes dark. ‘Before the accident I could’ve offered you the world. But now, Jo, I don’t have anything solid to offer you.’

  She didn’t need anything solid. ‘I’ll wait until you return from seeing Ethan.’ A grin broke through her. ‘I mean someone needs to keep an eye on Bandit. After that we can take it step by step.’

  Once Mac and Ethan had settled on a plan of action, then she and Mac could look to the future. Their future.

  He lifted her hand and pressed a kiss into her palm, his lips firm and warm. ‘Thank you.’

  Something inside her soared free then. She had a feeling the only thing that kept her anchored to the ground was Mac’s touch.

  They should go inside and start cooking. Knowing Mac, he’d have chosen something that would take ages to prepare, but she didn’t have the heart—or the strength—to break the spell that wove around them. She imagined that in years to come she’d remember sitting here with him like this, holding hands in the mild winter sunlight, with the sound of the surf in her ears and the promise of their future in front of them.

  ‘What are you hoping will happen with Ethan?’ she finally asked.

  ‘That he’ll work on a couple of projects with me when he’s ready to.’

  ‘That sounds nice.’

  ‘I’ll move back to the city so we can do that. And so I can see you.’

  ‘That sounds even nicer.’ She tightened her hand in his. ‘So far it sounds as if we’re on the same page.’

  He pressed another kiss into her palm. She wished he’d kiss her properly, but she knew why he didn’t. If they kissed they’d lose control.

  ‘I bless the day you came here, Jo. You’ve made me see possibilities I hadn’t considered.’

  She leaned against him, relishing his warmth and strength. ‘You were grieving. You were mourning the life you’d had that was suddenly snatched away, and you were mourning for Ethan and his life too. Grief is a process, and you’re finding a way through it.’

  ‘Thanks to you.’

  His eyes held so much promise it was all she could do not to throw herself into his arms and seek an answer to the desire coursing through her. She’d wait. Because it was what Mac wanted and perhaps what he needed. But when he finally felt free there’d be nothing to hold either of them back. Her skin tightened at the thought.

  ‘You...uh...?’ She swallowed and tried to think of something—anything—other than getting naked with Mac. ‘You mean to drive your car?’

  ‘I guess.’

  ‘It’s a pretty visible car, Mac. The Sydney paparazzi know it, don’t they?’

  He grimaced. ‘I’ll hire something.’

  And someone somewhere would leak that too. Mac deserved to embark on his mission free from the worries of the press.

  ‘You can borrow The Beast if you want. Nobody’ll look twice at you in that.’

  ‘You’d trust me with your car?’

  ‘As you’ll be leaving your gorgeous sports car here, in my care, trusting you with The Beast only seems fair.’ She was going to trust him with her heart. In comparison, her car was nothing.

  He laughed. ‘Deal.’

  And then he leant forward and touched his lips to hers. He tasted of coffee and determination, and his kiss tasted like every promise she’d been too afraid to wish for.

  It ended far too soon, but she knew why. The spark between them was already too hot, too twitchy. They had to negotiate it carefully or—

  Stop thinking about getting naked with Mac!

  ‘You’re beautiful, Jo.’

  She didn’t contradict him. She didn’t want to. ‘You make me feel beautiful.’

  His smile was her reward. ‘You don’t know the half of how beautiful I’m going to make you feel.’

  She groaned. A sound of need and frustration she had no hope of holding back.

  He nodded. ‘I’m hoping I won’t be gone too long.’

  So was she.

  He rose, pulling her to her feet. ‘Come on—it’s time to cook.’

  ‘What are we cooking?’

  ‘Macarons. I have a good recipe for them—better than the one you were using yesterday—and you need to keep practising.’

  She all but floated into the kitchen with him.

  * * *

  Mac left at the crack of dawn the next day.

  Leaving Jo behind when all he wanted to do was make love to her, prove to her over and over again how beautiful she was, was one of the hardest things he’d ever done.

  He gritted his teeth, resisting the increasingly urgent craving. He had nothing to offer her. Nothing solid. No kind of future. But a future might be possible, mightn’t it? A future could be wrestled from the wreckage the accident had wrought.

  He held to the thought tightly, because he ached for that future. With Jo.

  He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel and wondered what she’d be doing. She’d planned to make more macarons. The thought made him smile, because she didn’t even like them. She’d taken a bite from one yesterday and with an ‘Ugh!’ had tossed it in the bin
. She’d planned to take yesterday’s batch to the farm where she bought the eggs.

  ‘Maybe someone will find a use for them.’

  That was what she’d said. He laughed. The very thought of her warmed him to the soles of his feet in a way he could never have imagined a month ago. Beautiful, breath-of-fresh-air Jo, who’d breezed into his life and turned it upside down like some kind of super-heroine from a comic book.

  Imagining Jo in a skimpy superhero outfit kept him pleasantly engaged for half an hour. Especially when he imagined peeling it from her gorgeous body.

  He spent another hour wondering what kind of dessert would make her mouth truly water. If she didn’t like macarons then anything too meringuey was off the list. He selected dessert after dessert, only to dismiss them. Eventually he grinned. Maybe pineapple upside-down cake? Yes. Something warm and rich and full of flavour. That would suit her perfectly.

  As soon as he returned to the beach house he’d make her one. He’d watch every nuance of her expression as she ate it. He could spend a lifetime making food to indulge all her senses. She’d appreciate his efforts too. He had no doubt about that. And he’d relish her relish.

  Before he knew it the five-hour drive to Sydney was almost complete. He could hardly wait to return to Jo, but first things first.

  He drove over the Sydney Harbour Bridge, but he didn’t head for his swanky inner-city apartment. He turned the car in the opposite direction—towards Ethan’s private clinic.

  * * *

  Jo pulled her phone from her pocket to glance at it for the umpteenth time, but there were no new messages, no new texts.

  In the last two days she’d sent Mac five texts. She grimaced at Bandit, who lay under the kitchen table with her nose between her front paws, evidently missing Mac too.

  ‘Do you think five texts is too many, Bandit? Too needy?’

  Jo collapsed into a chair. She flipped out one finger. ‘Are you there yet?’ She held out a second finger. ‘Thinking of you.’ She stared at a third finger. ‘Sunny and fine here.’ She grimaced at the fourth. ‘Missing you. Ugh! Now, that, Bandit, was too much.’