Harlequin Romance April 2021 Box Set

by Rebecca Winters

  Was she on to him? Maybe? Probably! He reached a hand to the back of his neck to hide a smile. Eyes full of sparkles and frowns, a smile as warm as sunshine. How could she think of changing? From the moment he’d spied her through the kitchen door, singing into a wooden spoon, snaking her hips around the larder unit, he’d known that abandoning his hike to Apple Bay had been the right thing to do. Dancing around the kitchen, she’d seemed so full of light and life that he hadn’t been able to move. He’d watched her drizzling liquid over her little cakes...

  And then he’d remembered that he’d come back to talk to her—to be a friend to her, not to spy on her—so he’d opened the door, calling out her name, but the music had drowned him out, so he’d turned it down. And instantly he’d been faced with the myriad shades of her confusion—the openness and then the wariness in her smile; the warmth and then the hesitation and then the hurt in her eyes—and he’d realised just what he’d done.

  For days he hadn’t allowed himself to take in the details of her face because he’d been scared that if he looked into her eyes for too long he’d lose himself inside them, that all the things he’d been trying not to feel...that ache of the soul, that raw yearning...would blaze a trail through his veins and undo him completely.

  So he’d shut her out, because allowing himself to feel so alive when he was supposed to be aching for Astrid had felt so wrong, disrespectful somehow to the long past they’d shared. But his way of respecting the past had disrespected Emilie in the present and he had to put that right, even if being her friend was going to be a sweet torment.

  ‘Hey...’ Her voice was pulling him back gently. She was looking at him mischievously, arms wrapped around the canvas bag she’d brought with her. ‘It’s my turn now...quid pro quo...remember?’

  He wanted her to say it again, in slow motion so he could watch her mouth, but that definitely wasn’t something you could ask a friend to do. ‘You want a turn?’

  ‘Yes!’ Her lips quirked. ‘As it happens, I’ve got a little trust test of my own lined up for you.’ Her eyes held his as she walked back a few paces, then dropped down on to the sand. ‘Come! Sit with me.’

  It was a relief to see her eyes sparkling again. Hurting her was the last thing he’d meant to do and he would never do it again. Not for the world. He stepped forward and dropped down beside her.

  ‘Now, I want you to stare at the sea while I get things ready.’

  ‘Things?’ He arched his eyebrow. ‘I’m intrigued...’

  ‘Good!’ Her eyes widened a little. ‘But you need to be intrigued facing the sea, okay. Don’t look round.’

  ‘Whatever you say.’ He turned, looking out over the vast expanse of blue to the hazy green islands on the horizon. The sun felt warm on his skin. The breeze felt soft in his hair. He closed his eyes, listening to the sound of the waves, and to the restless, shuffling leaves of the palm trees and then he focused his attention on the curious rustlings happening beside him.

  Her face had been a picture as she’d lured him to her side, not that he’d needed luring, because being by her side was exactly where he wanted to be. For good or bad, whether it was right or wrong to feel what he was feeling, at that moment he wouldn’t have traded places with anyone in the world.

  The rustling stopped, then he felt her warm hand on his shoulder. ‘Still watching the sea?’

  ‘Yes.’

  He sensed her rising up on to her knees and then the pressure of her hand intensified. She was leaning in, her breath warming his ear. ‘I want to blindfold you...if you’re okay with that.’

  His stomach clenched. Did she know what she was doing to him? ‘Whatever it takes...’ Keeping his voice level was an effort. ‘This is about trust, after all, and I trust you.’

  ‘But is that wise, I wonder?’

  Her giggle filled his ears and then a smooth stretchy fabric—a buff, he guessed—was sliding over his head. He held his breath as she adjusted the fabric around his eyes because her fingertips were brushing his cheeks and his forehead, sending red hot darts into his belly and his crotch. And then her warmth retreated and her flowery, spun sugar smell was carried off on the breeze. He swallowed hard, listening, trying not to feel aroused by the pressure of the blindfold and by the tingling uncertainty of what was coming next.

  Suddenly the sand jolted and her lovely scent was teasing his nostrils again. Her voice was coming from the front now. ‘Are you ready?’

  ‘Of course.’ It didn’t come out as boldly as he’d hoped.

  ‘So now...’ her voice dipped lower ‘...you need to open your mouth.’

  Instinctively he pressed his lips together.

  ‘You seem to have trrrust issues, Meester Larsson...’

  Her sing-song fake Russian accent was salaciously threatening, like a Bond girl, and suddenly the irony had him chuckling hard. ‘It was involuntary! I’m sorry! It won’t happen again, see—?’ He opened his mouth wide, pointing at it with little jabs of his fingers. ‘Hyee!’

  ‘I can’t tell what you’re saying—’ her Russian accent was dissolving into a giggle ‘—but never mind. I’m sure your power of speech will return after this...’

  And then, suddenly, his mouth was full of soft, velvety chocolate cake and he was getting a hit of sweet, syrupy rum...tasting a hint of something that might have been ginger... It was the cake she’d been test baking in the kitchen. He felt laughter vibrating in his belly. He’d offered to taste them all, hadn’t he? And she’d set it up...set him up by adding a cheeky dollop of intrigue. He couldn’t stop laughing... She’d reeled him in, got him going in more ways than one and it was pure genius.

  He ripped off the blindfold, blinking into the light, blinking back tears of laughter. ‘Emilie!’ She was kneeling right in front of him, so close, smiling such a smile. It was all he could do not to throw his arms around her. ‘You got me good! As for that cake, it’s out of this world!’

  Her cheeks coloured just a touch. ‘You think so?’

  ‘I know so!’

  She smiled again, then her gaze fell to the canvas bag spread out on the sand. There were five small boxes laid out on it, their lids loosened and resting on top. ‘Well...’ her eyes flicked up ‘...that’s a good start, but there are five more.’

  * * *

  ‘So, you think the one with the ground almonds is the best?’ She was handing him a bottle of water, her eyes wide and serious.

  ‘Probably...’ He twisted off the cap, weighing it in his hand. ‘The texture of that one was great...but then again, they were all great.’

  She nodded, a blush touching her cheeks. ‘But that one is the best, I agree.’ She smiled. ‘Thanks for being my guinea pig.’

  ‘Any time.’ He took a long pull from the water bottle, watching as she boxed up the remnants and packed them into her bag. The tasting had been fun, but there was no doubt that Emilie took her profession seriously. She’d watched him so intently as he’d tried each cake, measuring his reactions to every mouthful so carefully that once or twice he’d felt a rush that had had nothing to do with the sugar he was ingesting. She hadn’t even explained why she’d made six different versions of the same cake. By his calculation, he was in credit on the quid pro quo front. He screwed the cap back on the bottle. ‘So what’s the story with the different cakes anyway?’

  ‘It’s just an idea...’ She seemed to falter, then her eyes were on his, narrowing slightly. ‘I will tell you, but not today.’

  She might as well have written it in the sand. If he wanted answers, he’d have to stay close, stay friendly. His heart caved. So she wasn’t trusting him so easily, after all... He sighed. It was exactly what he deserved after the way he’d behaved. He gathered himself and got to his feet, holding out a hand to help her up. ‘Another day then...?’

  Her eyes held his for a long second, then her hand slipped into his. He felt his pulse jump. No wonder!
The air between them had felt charged from the moment she’d fallen backwards into his arms. It wasn’t his imagination! He stepped back, tugging her up, but he must have tugged too hard, or maybe she slipped because suddenly, somehow, she was up against him, soft, and warm, and close, and he was drowning in her eyes, and the heavenly scent of flowers and spun sugar. A loose strand of her hair blew against his cheek and for a moment he lost himself in a fantasy of taking her mouth with his, tasting her lips, her skin...

  ‘Oops!’ She was pushing herself back and away, head down, breathless. ‘Sorry...my foot...it got caught...’

  He looked down. Sure enough, her foot was tangled in the strap of her bag. He stepped back, heart racing. ‘Nothing to be sorry for. Are you okay?’

  Her voice sounded husky. ‘Yeah, I’m fine.’ She was picking up the bag, looping the offending strap over her head. ‘I should go.’ Her eyes darted to his. ‘Erris brought a nice big crab this morning. I need to...do something...with it.’

  He could tell that she didn’t want a ride-along, but that was fine. He felt it too, the need to take a moment.

  She started along the beach and then she spun on her heel, calling back, ‘Joel, I’m sorry about what just happened...’ She threw him a little shrug, then she was off again, walking quickly towards the treeline.

  I’m not sorry.

  The sound of his own voice startled him. Tingling, he watched her walking away. Long brown legs, curvy hips, ponytail swinging. A knot hitched tight in his belly. Had he ever burned for Astrid the way he was burning now? When they were kids, maybe, when it had all been new, but lately... No!

  He raked his teeth over his lip. A year ago—no!—two years ago, Astrid had stopped coming to the island. He’d felt disappointed because they’d always shared a love of sailing, but he hadn’t pressed her, because pressuring people wasn’t his way...it was his father’s. He swallowed hard, searching the treeline. But if he’d never pressed Astrid to go, then equally, she’d never pressed him to stay. He’d thought that they were just being comfortably independent, but maybe that was when things had started to slide.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ‘ERRIS! WAIT! PLEASE!’

  Erris twisted round and then his hand went up. ‘Emilie!’

  Her heart leapt. It wasn’t too late! She hurried along the jetty towards the motor launch, dress flying around her calves. Its silky caress felt nice. Feminine! It was how she wanted to feel. Chef’s whites were practical, but they didn’t fall far short of prison duds and today she wanted to feel like a woman: a free, independent, strong woman.

  As she drew level with the boat, Erris met her with a bewildered smile. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘I was hoping for a lift.’ She planted her hand on the rail, catching her breath. ‘I want to go to Road Town. Not for provisions, just to...’ escape from Joel Larsson ‘...to look around!’ She switched on a bright smile. ‘I feel like a nice long wander.’

  Erris’s eyebrows flickered. ‘What about Mr Larsson’s breakfast?’

  She felt her senses swimming and gripped the rail tighter. It was wearing thin, the dizzy rush she felt every time she thought about Joel. The problem was, she couldn’t stop thinking about him... His smiling, upside-down face after she’d fallen backwards into his arms... Pulling off the buff, laughing helplessly... The way he’d looked at her... And when she’d tripped and fallen against him, she’d felt—oh, God!—she’d felt such an overwhelming desire to stay there, to press closer, to lose herself in his deep warmth.

  It was all because of that stupid blindfold! What had possessed her? It was supposed to have been a little surprise chocolate cake picnic, to get his opinion on the test bakes, but then she’d noticed her buff in her bag after the unquestionably fake insect incident—an incident she still needed to unpack—and she’d got the idea. It was only meant to have been a fun trust game to follow on from his, because they’d been laughing and everything had felt so easy and sparkly, but somehow, things had spiralled.

  From the moment she’d slipped the blindfold over his eyes her little game had taken on an energy of its own, an electricity that had skewed everything. Later, when she’d been serving Joel dinner, he’d been warm and friendly. He’d kept catching her eye, trapping her in his gaze, and every time, she’d felt her insides trembling and had had to turn away, busying herself with some small pointless task. It was physical attraction, undeniably, but there was something else too, gathering momentum, muddling her thoughts, muddying her vision...

  ‘Emilie...?’

  Erris’s face snapped back into focus. ‘Sorry.’ She blinked. ‘You were asking about breakfast for Mr Larsson...’ Erris wasn’t on leave like Melinda, but he’d been back and forth so much since Ben’s birth that she hadn’t had a chance to bring him up to speed. ‘It’s fine. He gets his own breakfasts.’

  Erris’s brow furrowed. ‘That’s not—’

  ‘I know, but he insists. He likes to get off early, sailing.’ She pictured the glistening fruits she’d arranged on silver platters for the previous guests, the eggs Benedict, the smoked mackerel mousses, the blinis and the delicately skewered cherry tomatoes, then she pictured the neatly stacked debris Joel left behind: the crusty remnants of scrambled egg around the non-stick wok, the plate littered with toast crumbs, the jammy knife, and the coffee mug with its milky dregs. She shrugged. ‘I don’t think Mr Larsson’s a breakfast buffet sort of person.’

  Erris seemed to be weighing it up, then he smiled. ‘Okay then, come on. We’d better get going or I’ll be late for the girls.’

  On board, with the boat sliding away from the jetty, she felt her pulse steadying. Catching Erris on his outward crossing to fetch the cleaners from Tortola had been a good idea. All night long details from the beach had shimmered in and out of focus: the buff going over Joel’s eyes...her fingertips brushing his forehead and his cheeks... Deliberately? Tiny lines around his mouth...his lips...listening for his breath to hitch... Listening? By first light, she’d had enough, knew that she absolutely couldn’t see him until she’d straightened her head out, so she’d flung on her dress and made a dash for the jetty.

  She unzipped her tote, hunting for her sunglasses. She’d given Joel a second chance because she liked him and because she’d felt sorry for him, but his trust game had done something to her. Caught in his arms, she’d felt bright and alive for the first time in for ever. She’d lost herself inside his deep gaze full of warm light because she was a moth, hopeless around light. He’d made her feel happy, and a little bold, so she’d played her game, but it had gone too far, thrown her off course, so that now, even with her badly singed wings, she was rising again, clamouring for...what?

  She felt a lump thickening in her throat. Intimacy? Love? She swallowed hard. After Tom, how could she even be thinking of it and, as for Joel, he was still struggling to gather up his thoughts about his ex. Neither of them was in any kind of shape for romance. She bit her lips together. The most they could ever share would be a holiday fling and that wasn’t her style.

  She found her sunglasses and slipped them on. Thinking it through calmly, it was simple enough. She was lonely and Joel was hot! Yes, she wanted to run her fingers down the inky line on his inner arm. She wanted to kiss his mouth and that dimple that creased his left cheek when he smiled, but it was just fantasy. Joel was a friend—barely that—and that’s the way things had to stay. Loose ties!

  She drew in a lungful of air, looking out across the glittering turquoise sea. There was Café Hygge to think about... She could see it in her mind’s eye, but that wasn’t to say that she’d thought of everything. According to Melinda, there were lots of cafés and bistros in Road Town. There were bound to be ideas, touches of inspiration that she could borrow. She felt her veins thrumming. Having a mission for the day was good!

  She got up, joining Erris at the wheel, raising her voice above the sound of the engine. ‘So, how’s your
grandson?’

  ‘Very little and very loud!’ He beamed, his eyes widening. ‘Melinda’s got her hands full, but she’s loving every minute, no matter what she says.’ He chuckled. ‘She’s already planning a party.’

  ‘A party?’

  ‘Just family and friends...but there’s a whole lotta those so it’s going to be quite a carnival. She’s set on a beach party at Boulder Cay so that Anton can put on a bit of a show with his crew. We’ve not quite settled on the day yet, but—’ he smiled ‘—you’re invited.’

  ‘That’s so kind.’ She felt stupidly teary. It was so nice of them to include her. She had to give something back, offer something in return. She bit her lip. ‘Maybe I could help with the food...?’

  Erris gave her the side eye. ‘No! You spend your life catering. Everyone’ll be bringing something: it’s how we do it.’ He grinned. ‘Sharing the work leaves more time for celebrating.’

  ‘Then I’ll bring something too...’ Ideas were already unspooling in her head. A cake! An island cake, with a beach...sugar palm trees...and sea... A blue crib with a sugar baby and...sugar stilt walkers in colourful costumes! She put her hand on Erris’s shoulder. ‘How about a cake—a nice big one!’

  He beamed. ‘Sounds good to me, although Melinda specifically said you weren’t to do anything.’

  She felt a little glow of mischief. ‘We won’t tell Melinda then.’ She smiled. ‘It’ll be a surprise!’

  * * *

  She stood at Road Town’s main junction for a moment, considering. The three streets in front of her were narrow, the tarmac cracked and broken, especially along the gutters. This was early April, edging towards the end of the dry season, but it was easy to imagine the streets running with water and the palms bowing and thrashing in hurricane winds. Here and there, dotted between the low, brightly painted clapboard properties and the tall, white houses with their ornate balconies, were palm trees bearing the scars of old storms, tatty brown leaves dangling like the broken wings of birds. A little below the level of the tallest palms, fat telegraph poles spat out wires in all directions. Not quite picture postcard!