by Robin Kaye
He held her in his arms and she felt the strongest man she knew shake. When he pulled away and stared into her eyes—there wasn’t a trace of cyborg, just Logan—all of him. His gaze was so open, so honest, so full of an emotion she’d never seen before in the eyes of any other man. It took her breath away. No one had ever looked at her with such depth, with such surety, with such intensity.
“I know you’re afraid. Hell, this thing between us scares me to death. But no matter how scary it is to feel the way I do about you, the thought of losing you is worse. Skye, I need you and I’ve never needed anyone. I feel things for you I’ve never felt for anyone. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and I’ve never wanted to do that with anyone.”
* * *
If Skye looked under the weather before, she looked like she had one foot in the grave now. Maybe it was a bad time to discuss this. He didn’t know where his words were coming from, just that he needed to shut up because she was turning a pasty white, and it did not complement her coloring. Shit, he had no idea how to do any of this, because apparently he was doing it all wrong.
She was beginning to look oxygen deprived. Her mouth kept opening and closing like that of a fish out of water. Not really the reaction he’d been hoping for. Not that he’d planned this—which obviously was an error in judgment. “You might try breathing, sugar. You’re beginning to turn blue—an improvement over the color you were a few hours ago, but it’s still not optimal.”
She took a deep breath and then blinked—several times. If he didn’t know better, he’d think she was pulling a Payton, but that wasn’t Skye. She looked as if she was questioning reality or wishing she’d wake from a nightmare—possibly both. “You want to spend the rest of your life with me?”
“That’s the gist of it.”
“That’s like marriage.”
Logan grinned. “That’s what two people usually do when they love each other. Isn’t it?”
“You can’t love me. I’m difficult.”
“I wouldn’t say difficult. Challenging maybe.”
She shook her head and then groaned and brought her hands to her face. “‘Challenging’ is just a polite way to say I’m a pain in the ass. I know I am. I’ve had plenty of people tell me.”
He wasn’t about to touch that one. She might be a pain in the ass on occasion, but he wanted her to be his pain in the ass. “I love you, Skye. I wouldn’t change you even if I could.” Although he might work on her tolerance for alcohol, but there was no need to tell her she was anything but perfect, and she was. She was perfect for him. “I fell half in love with you the first time I met you and you demanded to see the kitchen.”
“I didn’t even like you then.”
“I know.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“I did too. Ask Rocki and Francis. They had a theory as to why—”
“You can’t love me. I’m your rebound girl.” She crossed her arms and gave him one firm nod, as if that was all it would take to set the record straight. She looked inordinately pleased with her revelation.
“I hate to break it to you, Skye, but you’re not my rebound girl.” He wiped the sweat off his brow; things were going downhill fast and he had no idea how to stop this train wreck. “Don’t you get it? I never loved Payton.”
“Ever? Did you tell her you loved her?”
“No. You’re the only woman I’ve ever loved.”
“But you were engaged to her. You were going to marry a woman you didn’t love?”
“She asked me to marry her. It seemed like a prudent business decision, and I didn’t think I was capable of love—I had no idea what I was missing.”
“You know, maybe you’re mistaken about this whole love thing. You said yourself you know nothing about it.”
“Nope. I’ve known in here—” He pounded his chest.
“Sounds like indigestion.”
“I’ve known since the first time we made love. Maybe not in words, but I definitely knew something strange happened, something that changed everything, something that turned up the volume in my life, something that scared the shit out of me. It freaked me out.”
“I was there, remember?” She took a deep breath and her hand went to her chest, as if she was trying unsuccessfully to slow her stampeding heart. Her eyes were dilated; her pulse point throbbed on her throat. “I caught that. I didn’t know what it was, but it looked as if you wanted to run from the room screaming.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I thought I was losing it. But then I think that pretty often where you’re concerned.”
“Thanks, I think.”
“Don’t mention it.”
“God, Logan, I don’t know what to do with this information. What do you want from me?”
Loving him back would be great, but it didn’t look as if that was behind door number three. She hadn’t said she loved him, but she hadn’t said she didn’t love him, so that meant it was a definite maybe. He could work with maybe. “Just keep an open mind and give us a chance.”
She didn’t look sold on the idea.
“My life is turned upside down, I’m waiting to hear about Nicki’s paternity, and I just lost my job, my home. I know I don’t look like a very good prospect right now, but think about it. I have some savings and there’s a lot I can do. I could get back into brewing. There’s a local brewer I could probably work for, or hell, I could start my own microbrewery.”
“You want to brew beer?”
“Sure, I worked at a microbrewery while I was in school. I loved it. I’m good at it. I’d be brewing beer right now if I hadn’t started dating Payton.”
“So you went from brewing beer to wine because of a girl?”
Logan shrugged. “Pretty much. I met Payton and her family. Wine is fascinating and they gave me an internship. I did well. Payton was relatively low maintenance, and well, you know the rest.”
“Is there anything you’re not good at?”
“Talking you into giving us a chance, apparently.”
“Logan.” She put her hand on his. “It’s not you. It’s me.”
And wasn’t that just the kiss of death? The next thing she’d tell him was that he was nice and she just wanted to be friends. He cringed, because that was definitely every guy’s worst nightmare phrase—especially after declaring his undying love.
She took a sip of ginger ale and then stared into her glass, watching the bubbles for a moment, as if she were trying to see the future in the bottom of her cup. “You just don’t understand.”
“Talk to me. Help me understand.”
She reached over, set her glass on the bedside table, and moved to face him. Sitting with her legs crossed, she took his hand in hers and stared at them—his large and dark, hers small and so white. She took a deep breath and looked into his eyes. God, she had the most beautiful eyes he’d ever seen. “I just asserted my independence for the first time in my life, and I like it. I don’t know if I want to give that up.”
“You never told me that you ran away from a relationship.”
She let out a laugh that was anything but funny. “More like six relationships. I’m the youngest of five. I’m the only daughter and my parents and brothers spent my entire life dictating how I should live it. They told me how to dress, how to act, and what job to do. I didn’t grow up like you, Logan. I had every advantage. I was one of the privileged few. I was given everything. I just didn’t want what they wanted me to want. I didn’t want a life as a socialite and I certainly didn’t want what they were willing to let me do with my life.”
“Hold on, Skye. You’ve lost me. Back up.”
“Okay.” She looked away as if she was trying to organize her thoughts or get the courage to say what she needed to say.
Pinpricks of fear slid over his neck, his muscles tensed as if preparing for a deathblow.
“Have you ever heard of the Maxwell chain of restaurants?”
“Maxwell’s? Of course. They’re all over the West Coast. The
y carry Billingsly wines.”
“I know. I ordered the wine. It’s nice to meet you, Logan.” She turned their hand-holding into a handshake. “I’m Skye Sinclair Maxwell—the youngest, lesser-known member of the Maxwell clan.”
He sucked in a breath and pulled his hand out of hers so fast, you’d think she burned him, and maybe she had. What the hell? “You lied to me?” God, he was such a fool.
She reached for his hand again and held on tight, giving it a squeeze. “Not technically. Sinclair is my middle name. I just didn’t mention my last name.”
“And your family—”
She winced. “They have no clue where I am. That’s why I couldn’t tell you. When I found out who you were. I didn’t want you to rat me out to my family. If you had known who I was, you would never have given me the job.”
“That’s not true.” The look she shot him told him she didn’t buy the line either. Chances were, she was right. But then, he had been desperate.
“You know my brothers.”
And he knew Patrick Maxwell was going to kill him. Patrick might be a few inches shorter than him, but he was an ox who outweighed him by a good fifty pounds. He’d heard all about the Maxwell little sister. According to her brothers, she was off-limits. Hell, they joked about sending her to the nearest nunnery. “I play poker with Patrick and Colin at the club.”
“I figured as much. And think about it—why would I tell you? I wanted to get a job because of my expertise and not my family name.”
“I don’t understand why you came all the way out here. Why didn’t you just work with them?”
“I want my own restaurant. Every one of my brothers was given their own restaurant when they turned thirty. I worked my ass off for years. I did everything they wanted me to. I paid my dues. The problem was they were too happy letting me run the business end of the restaurants to give me my own kitchen. I hate being a paper pusher, so I quit and came here. I was determined to get my own kitchen and make my way in the cooking world on my own without using my family name and that’s just what I did.”
“Your plan was to work in Red Hook?”
“No, I came to Manhattan, but I couldn’t very well get a job in any of the trendy New York restaurants without revealing where I’d been working, could I? Especially since I didn’t want to use my family as a reference.”
“So you thought you’d slum it?”
“No. I just thought I’d have a better chance in one of the boroughs, and I was right. Okay, my best friend, Kelly, was right. I hadn’t planned on running into you of all people.”
“If you belong to the Napa Valley Country Club, how come I’ve never seen you there?”
“Because I avoid it whenever possible. Do I look like I’d fit in with the country-club set?” She spread her arms, the sweatshirt he’d pulled over her head after he’d cleaned her up slid off to one side, and he wanted to kiss the spot where her neck and shoulder met. He was such a sap.
He looked at her through new eyes—this explained the shoes and the expensive lingerie. Still, he couldn’t see her doing lunch with Payton and the society sisterhood. No, his Skye wasn’t the type—hell, she shopped at thrift stores and seemed to enjoy it. “I can’t see you lunching with the ladies, if that’s what you’re asking. That’s not to say you wouldn’t fit in just fine if that’s what you wanted.” Skye had grown up with everything he’d ever thought he wanted. She had the acceptance. She had the money. She belonged in that world. The weird thing was she resented it. She didn’t seem happy to have any of the things he’d worked his entire life for.
“That’s just it. I don’t want any of it. I don’t need to see and be seen. All I want—all I’ve ever wanted—was my own kitchen. Since I left, I realized just getting my own kitchen isn’t enough. I want to make it on my own. I want to earn my own kitchen, not have it handed to me because my last name is Maxwell.”
She crossed her arms and got that determined glint in her eyes that always half scared him and half turned him on. Aw, hell, there was no halfway about it. A determined Skye Sinclair—make that Maxwell—was a total turn-on.
“I have skills. I went to the California Culinary Academy in San Francisco. I did well. And as soon as I graduated, my family threw me in the business office. Sure, they’d let me play in the kitchens when it suited them. I have a knack for creating specials using seasonal food, but as soon as they had the recipes, they’d toss me back to deal with human resource issues, OSHA regulations, compliance, insurance, you name it. I’m good at the business end, but I’m better in the kitchen—not that they’d ever admit it.”
It looked as if her head of steam had run out. She toyed with the blanket, picking the pills off the fabric, seemingly lost in thought, and let out a sigh. “Unfortunately, since I’m the only girl, the only sibling who has the ability to give birth, the only one without a penis, my brothers and my father decided I would eventually want to get married and have kids and wouldn’t be able to handle my own restaurant. It was just a ridiculous excuse to keep me in the office because none of my brothers wanted to hire someone outside the family to keep the books. I felt trapped, so I quit. I had a fight with Paddy, packed my bags, took all the cash I had on hand—which wasn’t much—and flew out the next day. I’ve been living on what I earn at the Crow’s Nest. I haven’t used any of my credit cards because I can’t afford to have the sphincter police find me.”
His head shot up. “The sphincter police?”
“My brothers.”
“Shit, your family doesn’t know where you are? They must be worried sick.”
Skye shrugged. “Paddy told my parents I went on vacation.”
“For a month?”
“That’s his problem. He’s probably starting to sweat about it right about now. He’s going to have to fess up soon.”
She was slumming it. She’d come here and thought she’d play with him, and then toss him into the bay when the excitement wore off. His face heated, blood roaring in his ears with the strength of a high tide during a full moon, pounding through his veins. Fear, anger, and hurt grew into one big throbbing force that knocked the wind out of him. “So what am I to you? A temporary fling? Did the debutante run away from home to play on the wrong side of the other bay?”
“No.” Her face turned red and the pulse on her neck throbbed as fast as it did when they were making love. She looked about to blow her top or hit him. Instead she just crossed her arms and glared.
Good. Misery loved company, and he was plenty pissed himself, not to mention miserable and hurt. Shit, she had really done a number on him.
“This is no game. I’m not slumming it. And I’m not playing with you either. I quit my job, plain and simple. It’s not my fault my brothers expect me to fall on my face and go running home crying when things don’t work out. Don’t you see why I have to make it? I can’t go back to that.”
He took a huge mental step back. He shut down his emotions, locked them in a box to deal with later, and separated himself. He looked at the facts, because right now, facts were all he could deal with. “You went from cooking at Maxwell’s to cooking at the Crow’s Nest—that’s not really a lateral move.”
“I only cooked when they needed me, which wasn’t enough. They took all the credit for the dishes I created. It wasn’t fair. I let them take advantage of me for years until I hit the breaking point. I quit and I don’t regret it. I love what I’m doing now. The Crow’s Nest isn’t a five-hundred-seat restaurant, but that’s just a difference in the number of staff. I’ve always thought I could handle my own kitchen, but now I know I can.”
So, she accomplished what she wanted. She proved she could be successful on her own. Where the hell did that leave him? All those feelings he stuffed into the box exploded with the force of a pipe bomb. “Are you going back?” God, he hated how fucking pathetic he sounded. Even though he was pissed as hell, even though she’d lied to him, even though he felt as if she’d just filleted his heart, the thought of her leaving l
eft him cold.
“To Maxwell’s and my brothers? Hell, no.”
He blew out a breath of relief, until he remembered she still seemed to want nothing to do with him. Oh sure, she liked the sex, but he wanted more than just a bed buddy. It surprised him how much more. But then today was the day for firsts, wasn’t it? The first time he’d been taken in by a woman. Still, he had to ask. “So if you’re not going back, and you’re happy at the Crow’s Nest, then what’s the problem?”
“I don’t have a problem.”
“Yet you don’t want to get involved with me.”
Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes. He cringed. Real tears scared the crap out of him. He couldn’t imagine Skye crying for effect or to get her own way. No, Skye wasn’t a crier and she wasn’t happy, as evidenced by the angry way she swiped at her tears.
“It’s not that I don’t want to get involved.”
His get-real look had her scrambling.
“Okay, I didn’t want to get involved with you or anyone for that matter. I didn’t come here to get messed up in a relationship—I had other things on my mind. It’s nothing personal, but a relationship wasn’t even on my radar.” She stared at the center of his chest and he thought for sure this was the end. Then she looked into his eyes. “It was the last thing I wanted. I couldn’t help it, though. I am involved. Deeply involved. More involved than I’ve ever been with any man before. The thing is, Logan, I don’t want to give up everything I achieved to have a relationship with you.”
Relief washed over him and he drew in what felt like his first full breath since he’d found out who she was. “Skye.” He pulled her onto his lap, wrapped his arms around her, and felt whole for the first time in his life. He kissed her before forcing her to look at him. “I’m not asking you to give up a damn thing. God knows I want you to be happy. If you want to work, fine. If you want to stay at home, that would be fine too.”