by Mary Campisi
Arianna stood in the doorway, eyes bright, curious. The whole cooking from scratch was foreign to her. When she was measuring ricotta the other day, she’d mentioned too many times what a great cook Burnes was. He makes a fantastic chicken marsala. And his gnocchi is mouth-wateringly delicious. Yeah, well, she hadn’t tasted his ravioli or his chocolate-mint cheesecake yet. When the Burnes clan left tonight, stuffed and carrying doggy bags, they’d be talking about Ash’s culinary expertise, not Quinn Burnes’s.
“Sure. You can plate the salads and I think we’re set.”
“It smells wonderful.” She crossed the room, leaned on tiptoe and kissed him. “Thank you.”
“For cooking?” He gave her a peck on the nose.
“For everything.”
Now talk like that he could get used to, especially if it were accompanied by a bright smile and a kiss that made him think about dessert, and not the edible kind. “You’re welcome. Now let’s get the salads going before our guests come looking for us.”
Two bowls of ravioli and three garlic breads later, Ash patted his jeans pocket and scanned the table. He cleared his throat and was about to stand when Annie raised her wine glass and announced, “To a wonderful dinner. I’ve never tasted ravioli like that.” She slid her brother a smile. “Quinn, I think it might have rivaled yours.”
Ash settled back in his chair. What were a few more minutes of waiting, especially if it meant enjoying the sour expression on Quinn Burnes’s face?
“I agree. It was just the right blend of mushroom and ravioli.” This from Burnes’s wife, Eve.
That sour expression deepened, the lips pulled down into a distinctive frown. “You used portobello mushrooms, didn’t you?”
Ash rubbed his jaw and smiled at Quinn. “I did. I prefer their meatiness.”
Burnes nodded. “A good choice.” Had the man actually complimented Ash? “I would have added goat cheese to the ricotta for a more intense flavor, but you can try that next time.”
And good-bye to the compliment. “Right.” Like hell if he’d take that advice.
Caroline, ever in possession of grace and manners, chipped in with an attempt to assuage the obvious backward compliment. “Maybe the men in this room should give us women lessons in the kitchen. I know I’d certainly love to learn how to make ravioli, no matter what kind of mushrooms and cheese you use.”
Pete laughed and clutched his wife’s hand. “Remember the time I tried to make pizza and set off the smoke alarm?”
“The pizza from a box? The one that only required a pre-heated oven and a timer?” Her voice dipped, “Yes, dear, I remember.”
“I’m no better.” This from Michael, Annie’s doctor-husband. “I can grill a cheese sandwich but don’t expect the tomato soup to go with it, even if it’s from a can.” He shrugged. “Now if you want to know how to tell if a person’s in shock or what vital signs really mean, I’m your man for that.”
“Hear, hear.” Pete raised his glass. “And I can’t bake a pizza, but give me a balance sheet and I’ll tell you if a company’s in trouble.”
“I make killer double fudge brownies,” Annie said. “Quinn made up the recipe.”
Damn, enough about Quinn Burnes. Ash pushed back his chair and stood before the Burnes flattery continued. “Annie, I’ve a got a little something for your sweet tooth, but first—” he paused, glanced at Arianna who looked up at him with a mixture of surprise and curiosity—“I’ve got an announcement. You’ve all been observers in the roller-coaster ride Arianna and I have been on these past few years.” He darted a look at his brother, then skipped to Quinn Burnes who studied him as though dissecting each syllable for truth and accuracy.
“We’ve both made mistakes—” he pulled the black velvet box from his pocket, held Arianna’s gaze “—but the important thing is we’re together now.” He knelt and held Arianna’s hand. “I don’t remember much about my mother, but I do remember how good she smelled, how her laughter always made me feel better.” He opened the box to reveal the ruby and diamond ring. “And how this ring sparkled when she moved her hand. Pete gave it to me years ago, but when we got engaged the last time it would have been hard to explain how a broke photojournalist came upon this ring.” Ash removed the ring and held it out. “Arianna Sorensen, will you be my wife? As soon as possible, for as long as possible?”
Those blue eyes rimmed with tears, those perfect lips quivered. “Yes,” she whispered, followed by a resounding, “Yes!” as she threw her arms around his neck and cried.
“How about we try it on?” he murmured in her ear. “So you can show it off?” Truth was, he wanted to make certain the ring fit—he’d “borrowed” one from her jewelry box but didn’t know which finger she wore it on and not wanting to mess up, he’d resorted to calling Quinn Burnes, who, of course, knew she was a size six. Was there anything about Arianna the man didn’t know—with the exception of sex…unless they’d discussed that as well. Had they? Damn, he hoped not.
Arianna eased away from him and held out her hand. Ash slipped the ring on her finger. “It’s perfect,” she whispered.
“It is, isn’t it?” He slid a glance at Quinn Burnes, who watched him a little too closely.
She sniffed and framed Ash’s face with her hands. “I love you.” And then she turned to the rest of the table and made an announcement that told Ash she truly had forgiven him and more importantly, herself.
“I want to get married in Endicotte. It’s where I grew up and such a small town—” she laughed and swiped at her cheeks “—I want all of you to attend, to meet my mother, my sister if she’s talking to me, and hopefully, even the nieces I’ve never met. You see, I ran away a long time ago and thought I could just pretend I was someone else. But what I found out is that the past is in you, it’s what shapes you, what makes you unique. And the real test is what you do with that past—you either learn and move on, or you feel sorry for yourself, or maybe you pretend it never happened. I did the last one for a long time, too long, until Ash helped me see that I was hiding—from life and from myself.” She clutched Ash’s hand, a smile spreading over her face. “Please come and help us celebrate the happiest day of our lives.”
After a few too many teary congratulations from the women in the group, Ash excused himself to prepare the dessert. Chocolate-mint cheesecake was one of his specialties and he couldn’t wait for Arianna to try it. She loved chocolate—on ice cream, pretzels, peanuts, his belly… Maybe he’d save a few extra chocolate slivers to sprinkle on various body parts later tonight. He removed the cheesecake from the fridge, turned on the coffee maker, and unwrapped a block of dark chocolate.
“She seems happy.”
Quinn Burnes. Man of the hour. But not this hour—this was Ash’s time, and Arianna was his fiancée, which bumped him up the ladder ahead of Burnes. “She is,” he said, shaving slivers of dark chocolate onto a plate.
Burnes moved to the island, set down his glass. “Don’t break her heart.”
What a jerk. “I don’t intend to.”
“Nobody ever intends to, but it still happens.”
Ash tossed the block of chocolate on the counter. “Can you stop this bullshit for one second? You’ve been riding me since the day I walked back into her life. I love Arianna and she loves me. We’re making a life together, with or without your approval.”
Those damn eyes glittered. “Marriage is about more than sex and good times.”
“No kidding? A few years ago you were bedding everything in a skirt and now, what, you’re a marriage counselor? Go to hell and leave us alone.”
The bastard’s lips twitched, broke into a smile that morphed to a damn grin. “You really do love her.”
Ash shook his head and glared at him. “Screw you.”
Burnes held out his hand. “I had to be sure. I don’t want to see her get hurt again. Come on, let’s call a truce.”
“Stop the damn bullying.” Ash shook Burnes’s hand. “Or next time I’ll spare my breath and j
ust flatten you.”
Burnes laughed. “I think you might try it.”
Ash grinned. “Not try, I’d do it.”
“You know, if I were one hundred percent honest with anyone but my wife, I might actually admit that your ravioli were better than mine.”
Ash picked up the block of chocolate and tossed it to him. “Thanks for the compliment.” He handed him the vegetable peeler. “Now make yourself useful and finish the shavings.”
“Sure.” Burnes went to work creating a mound of chocolate shavings. When he was almost finished, he paused. “You know, Arianna’s favorite is key lime cheesecake.”
“I didn’t know that.” Dammit, he was going to write up a questionnaire and in two months, he’d know a hell of a lot more about Arianna than Burnes did. Count on it.
“If you want, I’ll send you the recipe. It’s the lemon zest that does the trick.”
Now they were going to share kitchen secrets? Quinn Burnes was one odd bastard. What the hell? “Sure,” Ash said, “I’d like that.”
Chapter 10
Ash pulled out a box wrapped in shiny black paper with a silver bow in the center. “One more gift and then I promise, that’s it.” He paused. “For now.”
Arianna scrambled off the bed and threw her arms around his waist. She liked sleeping with him, liked touching his body, liked waking up to his even breathing. She sighed and rested her head on his bare chest. Right now, she liked pretty much everything about her fiancé—but he had to stop with the gifts. They weren’t necessary. He’d given her the greatest gift of all: his love. “I don’t want any more gifts.” She eased away and waved her left hand at him. “And if this hadn’t been your mother’s, I wouldn’t have accepted it.” It had to be outrageously expensive, anything involving several carats usually was.
“This isn’t jewelry. It’s something small.” He handed her the box. “Come on. Last one.”
She pointed to the pile of clothing on a chair in the corner. “Look at all of that? I didn’t need new jeans and T-shirts to visit my mother.” Her gaze slid to the biker boots next to the chair. “And I had boots. Several pair of them.”
Ash sighed. “If you’re riding with me, you’re not wearing three-inch designer heels. You needed a leather jacket, not from your high-end department store either, some jeans and T-shirts. If we were going to a dinner, I’d let you dress me. If you’re riding on the back of my Harley, I’m dressing you.” He smiled. “You liked the bandanas, didn’t you?”
“I did. And the sunglasses. And the pink helmet.”
“Okay, then.” He thrust the box at her. “This is actually more for me than it is for you.”
She eyed him. “I’m not sure I trust the sound of that.”
“Smart girl.”
She set the box on the bed and tore into the wrapping. Other than Quinn, no one had given her a gift in years. Oh, there had been the obligatory offering from various vendors and the occasional man trying—and failing—to gain her attention, but other than that? Not since she left home. She lifted the top of the box and pushed aside the tissue paper. There were two tank tops nestled in the tissue, black and silver and pink and black with Harley script stamped across the chest.
Ash traced the neckline of the black and silver tank top. “Like I said, it’s more for me than you.”
“Thank you.”
He grinned. “You know, it’s been said that it’s better to show a thank-you than to say it.”
“Oh, really?” She yanked off her shirt, snatched the tank top from his grasp, and put it on. It was a perfect fit from bust to waist—Ash must have thought so, too, because he seemed to have lost his voice. Arianna crossed her arms over her chest, which pushed her bosom out of the tight fabric and smiled. “Now what was it you said about showing a thank-you?”
Ash’s gaze devoured her, but he didn’t move. “Come here.”
She inched closer, stopped when she was a kiss away. “Well? Do you like it?”
He traced the fabric covering her right breast, followed the pattern of the silver script across her chest. “Yeah. Definitely.” He trailed a finger along her belly, dipped it inside the lace band of her panties. “Absolutely.” Ash carried her to bed and spent the next two hours showing—with his fingers, his tongue, his words—just how much he liked what she wore and how he liked what she didn’t wear even better.
Six o’clock in the morning came three hours too early. When Arianna woke, Ash had showered, made the coffee, and was fixing two breakfast bagels with spinach, ham, and cheese.
“Eat now,” he said, “because when we travel the country roads, you don’t know when you’ll find a rest stop or even a gas station. I packed some water and granola bars for us.”
“I don’t eat breakfast every day.” As a matter of fact, she never ate breakfast, had only started because Ash fixed it for her and expected her to eat it.
“Well, now you do.” He handed her a plate, kissed her on the mouth, and poured a cup of coffee. “How are you going to carry my babies if you’re too frail?”
“I’m not frail—babies?”
“You do want them. Don’t you?” He looked so serious and vulnerable.
“I guess so.” When he’d disappeared, she closed off a part of her heart reserved for children and unconditional love. But he was back, and he wasn’t leaving this time. She nodded. “Yes. I want to have a baby with you.”
He placed his large hand beneath her belly, in the spot where their baby would grow. “Good.” He smiled, his eyes dark as chocolate. “That’s very good. Now eat so we can hit the road. You told your mom we’d be there by supper.”
***
Ash had told her that riding cleared his head, calmed him, brought him peace. She’d never quite understood how a loud, two-wheeled contraption that required constant attention could give anybody peace, especially the rider. But once she grew accustomed to “moving with the bike,” she relaxed, closed her eyes, and let the fresh air and the rock ’n’ roll music soothe her. It was indeed calming, a transformation of mind and spirit, a release from the daily encumbrances that weighed a person down—cell phones, computers, chatter. Ash pointed to things he wanted her to see: cattle grazing, a field of sunflowers, a vintage car, a boy playing with his dog. He shouted back to her once or twice, but mostly, they just rode.
They stopped at a small diner outside of Sunbury where they ate beef barley soup and pastrami sandwiches. The waitress was young, pregnant, and once she learned they were from Philadelphia, curious to hear about city life. Ash regaled her with stories beginning and ending with “people are people no matter where you go.” Arianna nodded, offered tidbits here and there, and on a whim, removed one of the bracelets she’d made and left it in the bill folder with the cash.
Spontaneous giving for no reason, expecting nothing in return. It felt good. Arianna followed Ash outside, breathed in the afternoon air, and grabbed her helmet.
They stopped twice more, once for an ice cream cone at a roadside Tastee Freeze, and later, for a cup of coffee and a bathroom break. There were so few words and yet, she’d never felt closer to him. In less than an hour, they’d ride into Endicotte and her mother would meet Ash as Arianna’s fiancé, not the bike rider who drifted in and out of town and had made friends with the irascible Edgar Sorensen. That would be a shocker, and yet, somehow, Arianna was certain Lorna would understand. And Vanessa? Bits and pieces of anxiety swirled in her gut, shot to her throat. Vanessa would never accept anything Arianna did and once she learned Ash was tied to her sister, she would be worse than miserable.
Would she make a scene at the wedding? Would she ruin the most important day of Arianna’s life because she refused to forgive? As they moved down the familiar road toward what had once been home, Arianna closed her eyes and let the wind and ride take her away.
***
Arianna stood by the bike, tall, lean, windblown, and beautiful as she pulled her blonde hair into a ponytail. Ash flashed her a quick smile and bounded up th
e front steps of the Sorensens’. Soon Lorna would know who he really was and while he didn’t mind that, he wanted her to know that his time with Edgar and with her was real. Before he had a chance to knock, the front door burst open and Vanessa threw herself at him in a giant bear hug. “Ash! Oh, Ash, it’s so good to see you!” She clung to him so hard she sucked the air from his lungs. “Mom and I wondered when you’d be back.” She pulled away, her cheeks pink, eyes bright. “You wouldn’t have heard about Dad.” Her voice dipped, wobbled. “He…he died.” She swiped a hand across her face, glanced over his shoulder, her blue eyes shooting ice. “What is she doing here?”
Ash turned and pointed at Arianna. “She’s my fiancée.”
Vanessa’s cheeks shot from pink to paste in a heartbeat. “Your what?”
“My fiancée.” He held out a hand to Arianna, urging her forward. She moved toward him but didn’t take her eyes off of her sister. This was going to be a rocky reunion, filled with a mini avalanche or two. He sucked in a breath and spit it out. “When I first came here, she wasn’t my fiancée…actually, she had been but we broke up. That’s why I came to Endicotte so I could still feel a part of her. But we recently reconnected and that’s why we’re here.” He worked up his best smile and plastered it on Vanessa. “To tell you we’re getting married. Here. In Endicotte.”
“Who’s getting married in Endicotte?” The door opened wide and Lorna Sorensen peeked from behind her daughter. “Ash? Arianna?” Her gaze darted between them, confused yet curious. “You two know each other?”
Vanessa spouted off before he could answer. “You could say that.”
No wonder she was alone and miserable. Had he ever heard her say one nice thing to or about anyone, other than when she thought they might hook up? No, he hadn’t and now that it was directed at Arianna, he found the self-pity damn annoying.
Lorna eased past Vanessa and opened her arms to Ash and Arianna. “Somebody’s got a lot of explaining to do.”
“He betrayed us.” This from Vanessa who’d coated her words with venom and distaste. “Dad most of all.”