Oh, he knew it all right. It just wasn’t enough.
She collected icing sugar—the good, pure stuff—butter, milk and food colouring. The fact of the matter was she had heard from Mac. Twice. A curt email on the evening she’d left, asking if she’d reached her destination safely. She’d answered with an equally short Yes, thank you. And a week later he’d sent her a recipe for a macaron tower.
She’d thanked him again. Very briefly. And that had been the sorry extent of their communication. She expected to hear from him soon, though. Bandit must have had her puppies by now, and those puppies must be getting old enough to be weaned.
Why hadn’t he let her know when Bandit had had them and how many there were? Why...?
Because he’d been too caught up in whatever his latest scheme was for making money for Ethan, that was why.
She seized the plastic cone and snapped it in half. She dug her fingernails into it and gouged and shredded until some of the frustration eased out of her. Then she calmly retrieved another one and set it on the table. She pulled in a breath.
Okay, now she was ready to start.
The doorbell rang, but Jo ignored it. It would simply be more flowers for her grandmother. Her grandmother could answer it.
Jo set about measuring icing sugar.
Grandma popped her head into the kitchen a moment later. ‘Jo, dear, would you mind coming out for a moment? We have a visitor.’
‘Is it Great-Aunt Edith?’ Had she dropped in early for some reason?
‘No, dear, and I don’t believe it’s an emissary sent by her to sabotage the making of your macaron tower either.’
Your macaron tower. But Jo remained silent. Her great-aunt mightn’t like losing, but she’d never stoop to foul play. Her grandmother, however, had taken to imagining dastardly plots at every turn.
Wiping her hands down the front of her shirt, Jo walked out into the lounge room—and her hands froze at rib level when she saw who stood there.
Mac!
She stared, mouth agape. It took all her strength to snap it closed again, and the blood pounded in her ears and she had to plant her feet to counter the sudden giddiness that swirled through her.
She glanced at her grandmother, who smiled serenely.
She glanced at Mac, who smiled serenely.
Serene? Her heart tried to pound a path out of her chest. She wanted to scream. Whether in joy or despair, though, she wasn’t sure.
‘Hello, Jo.’
She swallowed and released the lip she’d been biting. ‘What are you doing here, Mac?’
‘Didn’t I say, dear?’ Grandma patted her arm. ‘I’ve hired Mac to cater my dinner.’
She’d what? ‘But...how?’
‘I rang to tell you about the puppies, but you weren’t in.’
Grandma hadn’t mentioned that!
‘We got talking. Your grandmother asked me if I’d be interested in catering her birthday dinner. And...’ He shrugged.
It took every last muscle she had not to dissolve in the warmth of his eyes. The heat between them was as blistering as ever. She gripped her hands together. It would be a bad idea. Becoming lovers with this man would make her miserable.
You’re already miserable.
She tossed her head and hardened her heart. ‘And...?’ she persisted.
‘And I found I couldn’t refuse.’
She would not be his consolation prize.
She opened her mouth, a set-down on her lips, but Mac had turned away to rifle in a basket.
He turned back with a handful of squirming fluffy puppy, wearing a pink and green bow around its neck. ‘Happy birthday, Lucinda.’
‘Oh, my word. Edith will have a fit!’ Her grandmother clapped her hands in delight. ‘Thank you, Malcolm, what a lovely gift.’
Jo tried to prevent her eyes from starting from her head.
‘And this one here is for you, Jo. I’ve called her Beauty.’
He placed the puppy in her arms and she had to close her eyes as his familiar scent hit her and the warmth of his voice threatened to cast a spell about her.
She took a step away from him. Liking each other had never been their problem. It was only logical that he’d still like her as much as he ever had—want her as much as he ever had. What wasn’t logical was her instant response to him, given all that had happened—or not happened—between them.
It had been two months. She shouldn’t love him as much now as she had then. She wanted to weep, only it filled her with so much joy to see him.
You’ll pay for it tomorrow.
Her eyes stung. She moved further away from him, from all the temptation and remembered pain, to perch on an armchair with her sweet, sleepy puppy.
‘Believe it or not...’
She couldn’t help but glance up.
‘Bandit has been pining for you.’
Only Bandit? She shook her head. ‘I don’t believe you.’
On the other side of the room her grandmother cooed over her puppy. Beauty snuggled down on Jo’s lap, taking the base of Jo’s thumb into her mouth as if determined to keep a hold of her. Jo covered her body with her free hand to let her know she was loved.
‘The moment you left she set up a whine that turned into a howl.’
Truly? She gestured for him to take a seat on the sofa opposite, but he didn’t move from where he stood. He all but devoured her with his hot, hungry gaze. She rolled her shoulders and swallowed.
‘She hasn’t forgiven me yet for letting you leave.’
Jo would. Forgive him, that was. If he said he was sorry and asked her to return with him she would. In an instant
No! That would be a bad thing, remember? She had a life. She’d have a new job soon. She had a puppy.
But she didn’t have Mac.
You can’t have everything.
She lifted her chin. ‘Good for her.’ She was not going to sacrifice her life to a man intent on sacrificing his own life to guilt and regret.
‘How’s Ethan?’ It was a nasty little dart, but they both needed to remember why they couldn’t be together.
‘He’s doing okay. I left him and Diana out at the beach house.’
He’d what?
Her jaw dropped. The puppy let out a yelp and with a start Jo relaxed her grip and bent to soothe it. She stroked it back to sleep, its fat little tummy and its utter trust weakening something inside her.
‘How...?’ she whispered when she finally dared to look at him. ‘How did that come about?’
He glanced at his watch. ‘Well, shoot—look at the time? Lucinda, you’d better point me in the direction of the kitchen if I’m to serve you at seven on the dot.’
He went out to his car, returning with two laden baskets filled with the most intriguing-looking ingredients.
He grinned at Jo. ‘I understand you’re my kitchen hand?’
She tried to smile back, but couldn’t. ‘Yay,’ she said weakly instead.
‘Buck up, Jo. All I want you to do is assemble a macaron tower.’
That was the problem. Mac didn’t want her for anything more substantial. Her fingers curled against her palms. Why had her grandmother hired him? And, more to the point, why had Mac agreed to it?
They settled the puppies in their baskets in the laundry. Mac unpacked his groceries. Jo washed her hands and set about icing two plastic cones.
Mac glanced at them. ‘Why two?’
He’d come up so close behind her his breath raised all the fine hairs at her nape. She wanted him to kiss her. She ached with it. But he hadn’t given her so much as a kiss on the cheek, and that spoke volumes.
In her heart she knew it was for the best.
‘I don’t think I’ve mentioned yet what a sight for sore eyes you are.’
She spun around. ‘What are you doing here, Mac?’
His gaze lowered to her mouth. Beneath tanned flesh the pulse at the base of his jaw pounded. Hunger roared through her. They swayed towards each other, but at the last moment he snapped away.
‘If I kiss you now I’ll be lost, and I did promise your grandmother I’d make this meal.’ He ground that last from between clenched teeth. He glared at her. ‘And you promised her that darn macaron tower.’ He suddenly seized her shoulders in a strong grip. ‘But after this party we’re talking.’
‘Right.’ She swallowed. ‘Good.’
Except... He wasn’t going to go over old ground, was he? He wouldn’t ask her to return to the beach house as his housekeeper, would he?
He had to know that wasn’t enough.
His fingers tightened, although she sensed how he tempered his strength.
‘What’s the plan for this evening? Is there anything you’d like me to do?’
Love me.
She swallowed that back, shrugged. ‘Just follow my lead, I guess. I think I have it under control.’
Fingers crossed.
They stared at each other for a long fraught moment. She swung away, her heart surging in her chest. One thing was clear—she and Mac still generated heat. Not that it made a bit of difference. Other than to make working with him in the confines of a suburban kitchen all the more fraught, uncomfortable...and exciting.
Focus on making the tower.
She’d been concentrating on this event for weeks now. She couldn’t afford to let Mac derail her.
She made the macaron tower—carefully inserting toothpicks into the iced cones and then painstakingly attaching the coloured macarons. When that was done she decorated it all with swirls of pink, green and lemon ribbon.
She stood back to admire it and almost stepped on Mac.
She glanced back at him. ‘What do you think?’
Ugh! Think you could sound any needier?
She tossed her head. ‘It’s pretty fabulous, isn’t it?’
‘It’s beautiful.’
But he was looking at her when he said it, not at the tower. The air between them shimmered. He took a hasty step away and Jo had to bite back the moan that rose through her.
Mac cleared his throat. ‘What flavours did you decide to go with?’
She kept her gaze on the tower. ‘Lime with passionfruit cream, and strawberry with a vanilla buttercream.’
‘Nice.’
She picked up the tower and very very carefully walked it into the pantry.
Then she made a second tower, identical to the first. It was just as perfect. She set it in the pantry beside the first one.
Mac raised an eyebrow. She merely shrugged.
‘Jo, dear.’ Her grandmother came bustling in. ‘Guests will start arriving in forty minutes and you’ve yet to shower and dress.’
‘And take the puppies out for a pee and a romp in the back yard,’ Jo added. ‘Go ahead and finish getting ready, Grandma. I won’t be late. I promise.’
CHAPTER TWELVE
JO ROMPED WITH the puppies for fifteen minutes, but all the while she was aware that Mac was in her childhood home and...and...
And what?
She settled the puppies back in their baskets and went to shower. She’d splurged on a new dress for the occasion. And heels. She’d almost be the same height as Mac in them.
Almost, but not quite.
Her grandmother was shooting last-minute instructions at Mac when Jo returned to the lounge room. During her absence Great-Aunt Edith had arrived. They all broke off to stare.
Jo turned on the spot. ‘Now I’m a sight for sore eyes,’ she shot at Mac.
Her dress was a simple shift in a startling geometric pattern of orange, purple and black. It stopped a couple of inches short of her knees. She’d never worn anything so short before, and certainly not with heels. She had legs that... Well, they practically went on forever—even if she did say so herself.
Mac’s eyes blazed obligingly. Fire licked along her belly in instant response.
‘Nice,’ he croaked.
‘Good Lord, Jo! What are you wearing?’ Her great-aunt tut-tutted. ‘It’s far too short for a girl of your height.’
‘The shop assistant assured me it was perfect for a girl of my height,’ Jo countered.
‘You look very pretty, Jo, dear,’ her grandma said.
Great-Aunt Edith glared. ‘But is it seemly?’
Jo glanced back at Mac, who could barely drag his gaze from her legs, and a female purr of satisfaction rose through her. ‘Oh, I expect it’s quite the opposite, Aunt Edith, but I believe that’s the point.’
Before her aunt could remonstrate further the doorbell rang and Jo went to answer it, putting a sway into her step for Mac’s benefit.
Eat your heart out.
When she returned he’d retreated to the kitchen and she could breathe easier again. He needn’t think he could come around here and get her all het-up without expecting some kind of payback.
Five additional guests had been invited to dinner, all of them longstanding friends of her grandmother’s and great-aunt’s—people Jo had known all her life.
Each of them stared at her as if they didn’t recognise her when she answered the door. They’d stare a whole lot more before she was through this evening.
She went to serve drinks, but Mac was there before her.
‘Who is that young man?’ her great-aunt demanded of her grandmother.
‘Aunt Edith, this is Malcolm MacCallum—the famous chef,’ Jo said. ‘I was his housekeeper for a short time not that long ago.’
‘Humph. I remember. I can’t believe you’d waste your education on such a lowly position as housemaid.’
‘What does it matter?’ her grandmother piped up. ‘As long as she was happy.’
Happy? Jo shoulders started to droop.
‘And I can’t believe you’re turning your back on the possibility of promotion, not to mention stability, by switching vocations so late in life.’
Late in life? Jo choked.
Mac’s lips twitched, and her great-aunt’s eyes narrowed. ‘Precisely how well do you know this Malcolm?’
She made her smile bright. ‘Very well.’
Great-Aunt Edith drew herself up to her full formidable height. ‘I’d like to know—’
‘I’m afraid it’s none of your business.’
‘Jo!’ her grandmother remonstrated.
‘Or yours either, Grandma.’
The sisters stared at each other, evidently nonplussed.
‘How long before we eat?’ Jo shot out of the corner of her mouth.
Mac cleared his throat. ‘If everyone would like to move into the dining room, I’ll serve the entrée.’
Jo silently blessed him, and moved towards the kitchen to help, but with a gentle shove he pushed her towards the dining room.
‘I have it covered.’
Right. Was he ever going to tell her what Ethan was doing at his beach house? And did it have any bearing on them—him and her?
There is no you and him.
Her grandmother sat at the head of the table and her great-aunt at the foot. Her grandmother’s allies sat on the right side of the table—which was where Jo found herself—and her great-aunt’s ranged down the left.
Like a battlefield.
As if this were a war.
And then it started.
‘Do you think it’s wise to wear such high heels when you’re such a large girl, Jo?’
‘Eadie, don’t be such an old-fashioned prig. Our Jo is the height of fashion.’
Everyone else around the table weighed in with an opinion.
‘I think that dress and those heels are perfect,’ Mac said, serving mussels in garlic sauce.’
Both sisters glared at him, united for a moment in their mutual suspicion. Jo hid a smile.
In the next instant, however, the entire table had lost themselves in the delight of the food, forgetting all about Mac. Across the table he caught her eye. He mouthed ‘perfect’ before disappearing back into the kitchen. Her pulse skittered. Her heart throbbed.
When everyone had finished the entrée her great-aunt said, ‘Jo, I really think you need to reconsider this career change you’ve been talking about.’
‘Oh, Eadie, stop fussing. If this is what Jo wants—and if it’ll make her happy—then so be it.’
‘Heavens, Lucinda—a paramedic? Any Tom, Dick or Harriet can train as one of those. Our Jo is better than that.’
‘Your Jo is quite simply the best,’ Mac said, having whisked their entrée plates away and now serving lamb so succulent it melted in the mouth.
‘She’ll become a drudge,’ her great-aunt said.
Grandma shook her head. ‘Her choice.’
‘I’d quite happily become her drudge,’ Mac said.
Jo nearly swallowed her tongue.
‘Who is he?’ her great-aunt demanded.
‘He’s Mac.’ She had no other explanation.
‘He’s her admirer,’ Grandma said.
‘If Jo had what it took to catch a man she’d have done so years ago,’ scoffed Great-Aunt Edith.
‘Ha!’ snapped Grandma. ‘Jo has her head screwed on right. Life is far easier when one doesn’t have to pander to a man. Not that you’d know about that, Eadie.’
Ouch! Jo winced on her aunt’s behalf.
‘If Jo married me I’d be a very lucky man.’
Jo’s fingers tightened about her cutlery and her stomach churned. What game was Mac playing?
‘If you married him you could eat like this every night,’ one of her grandmother’s cronies said.
They ate then, mostly in silence, all relishing the amazing food.
Eventually Great-Aunt Edith pushed her plate away. ‘Ladies, don’t forget to leave room for dessert.’ She shot Jo a smirk. ‘I take it there will be dessert?’
Harlequin Romance April 2015 Box Set Page 17
