by Lisa Dyson
She seemed surprised that he’d take her up on her offer. “Um... I’m okay, I guess.” She stood up and straightened the dark red knit dress she wore with a silver belt, even though he’d told her to dress casually when she’d asked. “You’re not going to be a tough critic, are you?”
He grinned and held out a hand. “Come on, let’s check out your skills.” He already knew about her excellent skills in bed, but now wasn’t the time to dwell on them.
“Do you do much cooking?” he asked after he got her set up with a cutting board, knife and a variety of vegetables.
She grimaced. “The kitchen isn’t really my thing, but I’m trying to teach myself so I can eat better over the next several months. It’s not going very well, though.”
He laughed. “I’m surprised.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because you seem to be good at whatever you set your mind to.”
She considered him for a few moments and then shrugged. “You’re right. I’m always determined to do the best I can at things. I’m not sure why I’m so bad at cooking.” She held up a finger with a bandage on it. “This is from trying to learn how to cook actual oatmeal, not the instant kind.” She showed him her other hand. “This one is almost healed. It was when I burned myself frying an egg.” She paused. “In fact, I burned both me and the poor egg.”
He laughed harder this time. “Eggs? Oatmeal?” He shook his head. “I think maybe we should spend those weekly meals teaching you how to cook.”
She raised her eyebrows. “You’d do that?”
“Of course. Once you get the basics mastered and can read a recipe, it’s all downhill from there.”
“Yeah, downhill into the trash, you mean.” She smiled as she said it, though.
“We’ll see. If we write it into that contract you want, then you can’t get out of at least trying to learn to cook.” He opened the oven to remove the whole chicken he’d baked. He checked the doneness and decided it needed a few more minutes. He closed the oven door, set the timer and straightened. “So why is it that you never learned to make even the simplest things, like oatmeal?”
“Cooks,” she said. “I wasn’t even allowed in the kitchen at home.”
“Then how are you able to live on your own if you can’t even feed yourself?”
“The easy answer is that I rely a lot on carryout food.” She brushed her hair back from her face. “The truth is that my dad always assumed I’d accept his money and be able to afford cooks of my own.”
“But you didn’t take his money?”
She shook her head. “Nope. I wanted to make it on my own. He and I don’t usually see eye to eye when it comes to business practices.” She paused. “With a little help from an inheritance my great-aunt left me, I was able to have seed money for my business. It wasn’t a lot, a few thousand dollars, but enough to get started before I was even out of college.”
“It seems like you’re doing okay for yourself now. Have you thought about hiring a chef?”
She laughed, a pleasant sound that made him happy. “No, the funny thing is that I’ve gotten so used to not having any hired help in the house that I really like my privacy. Having dinner at my dad’s recently made me realize how intrusive they really are.” She raised an eyebrow. “Although I do have a cleaning crew come in once a week. I’m not that eager to do everything on my own.” She smiled, and his insides warmed.
They went back to their respective jobs preparing dinner. He looked over to see how she was doing. “Wait.” He stepped behind her and reached around to position his hand over hers as she held the knife. “Hold it like this.” He removed her extended pointer finger from the dull edge of the knife to grip the handle with her entire hand. “There you go.”
Her hair smelled citrusy, reminding him again of the island. And he would have been fine if she hadn’t turned her head around enough to glance at him. He took the knife from her hand and laid it down before grasping her shoulders and turning her body to face him.
Her tongue darted out to wet her bottom lip, and he couldn’t stand it. He leaned in and gently touched his lips to hers. When she didn’t protest, he deepened the kiss and slid his hand through her hair to the back of her neck.
She wrapped her arms around his body, holding him close. She tasted so good and the memories they’d made on vacation came flooding back. He wanted to lay her back on the kitchen table and do his best to replicate those memories.
But two things happened simultaneously that stopped him. The timer for the chicken went off, and his mother returned to the kitchen.
“I’m so sorry,” his mom said quickly while he stared into Bree’s wide eyes. “You continue with what you’re doing, and I’ll just leave—”
“No, Mom, come in.” He reluctantly let go of Bree and turned off the buzzing timer. After all, they couldn’t do more than kiss. “Dinner’s almost ready. I just need to mash the potatoes while the chicken rests.”
“Then what can I do to help?” his mom said quickly.
For some unknown reason, he couldn’t shake the feeling that his mother had her own agenda that she was promoting and she was deliberately keeping him in the dark.
On second thought, he knew exactly what her plan was. She wanted grandchildren and she also wanted him to be married to their mother.
* * *
BREE WAS SO EMBARRASSED. Having Emily catch them making out was humiliating. What must she think of Bree? Probably that she was some easy woman who couldn’t keep her hormones under control.
And she’d be absolutely right.
These crazy pregnancy hormones were making her so horny and she just wanted to quiet them. Preferably by having incredible sex with Nick. No one but him caused these flare-ups. Like it or not, he was the only one she wanted.
Not that she was out looking for a suitable man. She didn’t have time for a man.
Unless it was Nick. She fanned herself, flushing from thoughts of them together.
Just once. She was sure that was all it would take for her to get sex off her brain.
She finished chopping the vegetables for the salad, something she’d actually accomplished only because she’d eaten chopped vegetables in her lifetime and knew how they should look.
Not that hers looked exactly as she’d planned. The mushrooms were different widths and so were the carrots, but tossed in a salad, they’d be fine. At least they weren’t burned.
While Emily set the table and poured drinks, Nick carved the chicken. Bree was fascinated as she watched his talented hands work quickly and efficiently. She nearly groaned aloud as she recalled how expertly he’d used his hands on her.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
She realized she was staring. “Um, yes. I was just watching and trying to learn how to do that.” Their eyes met, and she knew immediately that he could see right through her. He was well aware that she wanted him.
He winked at her. “I’ll be sure to add carving a chicken to our lessons.”
She turned away, feeling her face heat. What was it about him that affected her like this?
They sat down to eat at the kitchen table, and unexpectedly Bree found she was enjoying herself. The meal was more like when she ate with her girlfriends than when she had dinner with her dad. The conversation went from one subject to another seamlessly, and before she knew it, she’d cleaned her plate.
When they were finished eating, Nick and Emily got up to clear the table. “Here, let me help,” she found herself saying as she carried her plate and the leftover salad to the counter. “Dinner was delicious,” she told Nick. “That chicken tasted better than any I think I’ve ever had.”
He grinned at her compliment. “Thanks. I’ll definitely teach you that one. It’s just some herbs and butter and then you bake it. Not difficult at all.”
“Easy for you to say. I’m not sure I even know how to turn my oven on. Oh, wait. I’ve used it to heat up carryout. Once. When my microwave was on the fritz.”
Nick smiled at her joke, and she smiled back. He really did have a very nice smile.
Emily edged her way to the sink, where she took over the cleanup. “You two go sit and relax. I’ll finish up here.”
“Are you sure?” Bree asked. “It doesn’t seem fair.”
“Go on,” she repeated. “Nick cooked, and I’ll clean up. That’s completely fair.” Before Bree could argue, Emily added, “And you’re our guest, so go relax.”
Nick ushered Bree back into the living room, where they sat close to each other on the sofa. “I really like your mom,” Bree told him.
He smiled. “Thanks. I’m pretty lucky.” He took her hand in his. “So should we schedule our next dinner slash cooking lesson?”
“Sure. What works for you? Maybe Mondays when the restaurant’s closed? I’ll keep my schedule clear.”
“That would be perfect. Tonight was okay for me to be gone because it was a weeknight and my sous-chef is very capable. So capable that I’ll probably lose him in the next year when he opens his own restaurant.”
“That’s too bad. It’s tough to lose good employees. I’ve been there.” She pursed her lips. “So next Monday. I’d suggest my place for dinner, but I have very few cooking utensils. Every time I try something new, I have to go shopping first.”
He laughed and squeezed her hand. “Not a problem. I don’t mind cooking at my place. Unless you want to go out? Although that wouldn’t allow the opportunity for a cooking lesson.” He held up his pointed finger. “Wait! I’ve got it. Next week is restaurant week in Old Town. If you want, we can go try some new dishes at different restaurants. Appetizers here, entrées somewhere else, dessert at a third place. What do you think?”
“That sounds great.”
“You don’t mind putting off the cooking lesson a week?”
She laughed. “I don’t mind at all. You should be warned that you have no idea what you’re getting yourself into with these lessons.”
They made definite plans and Bree realized it was getting late. Not actually late, but late for her these days. “I really should go,” she said as she rose.
“I’ll walk you to your car,” he offered.
She knew what that meant. A good-night kiss, maybe more than one. So she gratefully accepted his offer.
“It was a lovely dinner, Emily. Thank you so much.” Bree was about to shake Nick’s mom’s hand when the woman put her arms out and gave her an honest-to-goodness hug. Bree felt her eyes tear up at the emotion she felt from a simple embrace.
Then Emily took Bree by the upper arms and said, “Don’t be a stranger, Bree. You’re family now, whether you think so or not.”
While Bree and Nick walked to her car, Bree wasn’t sure how she felt about what Emily had just said to her. Did she think Bree wanted to stay in touch after this was all over? Bree had only agreed to dinner because she’d had an urge to show Nick’s mom that she was more than the fainting, vomiting person she’d first met. The same one who’d had a vacation fling with her son and wasn’t planning to marry him now that she was pregnant.
“You’re being very quiet,” Nick said when they reached her car.
She hit the button on her door handle to unlock it and opened the door before turning to him. He was closer than she’d realized, the heat coming from his body giving her added warmth on the chilly night.
“I guess I’m just tired,” she said, part truth and part fib. She was always tired these days.
“I’ll let you get home to bed, then.” He tipped her chin up and touched his warm lips to hers.
She automatically leaned into him as his arms came around her. He was fulfilling the promise he’d made to her when he’d offered to walk her to her car.
* * *
OVER THE NEXT few weeks, Bree gradually began to feel a little more energized and she was rarely nauseated anymore as long as she kept something in her stomach.
She and Nick were keeping things friendly, no matter how much his mom so obviously wanted them to be more than friends. Truthfully, Bree wouldn’t mind if they were more than friends, either. At least for one night. Too bad she hadn’t been brave enough to add that into the contract they’d drawn up.
Damn these pregnancy hormones.
Later today they were meeting at the doctor’s office, their first time at an appointment together. Bree had scheduled it for a Monday morning because Nick’s restaurant would be closed. But first she’d come into work early so she could take care of some things before their appointment.
Bree was growing more and more comfortable with Nick, although going to the ob-gyn together would be substantially different from their other outings.
They’d enjoyed participating in restaurant week and tasting a variety of foods from different restaurants. Usually there was a set price for three courses at a restaurant, but because Nick’s restaurant was participating, he could divide the meal into courses at different restaurants. He’d told her that his restaurant had done a lot of business during that time and even throughout the weeks afterward. Bree wasn’t surprised. He was an accomplished chef and once you tasted his food, you definitely wanted to come back.
He’d also been trying to teach her how to cook, try being the operative word. She wasn’t very good at all. He told her she needed to have more confidence in herself, which was something she’d never been told before.
Her cell phone rang. Caller ID showed her PI. “Hello.” She’d given him the information her dad had provided about her maternal grandparents, but so far all the PI’s weekly updates had been disappointing.
“Hello, Ms. Tucker. I think I finally have some useful information for you.”
Her heart beat faster. “What did you find out? Did you locate my mother?”
“Not exactly. But I did get a lead. It turns out that your mother’s parents moved from the address you gave me almost twenty years ago.”
“Wow. That’s a long time.”
“Exactly. Like I told you before, I spoke to the neighbors. Most of them weren’t living there when your grandparents resided in the area, and finding their former neighbors has been difficult.” He cleared his throat. “It seems your grandparents lived several places after that address until they moved into an assisted-living facility about two years ago.”
“Where is it located?”
“It’s in Delaware. A small town near the ocean.”
“Then I can go see them,” she said.
“Slow down. I’ve already tried to pay them a visit. It turns out that all guests to see your grandparents have to be approved by some relative of theirs. I’m not on the list, so I couldn’t even talk to them.”
“Could my mother be the relative?”
“Possibly, but it could also be another relative. I get the feeling that whoever is behind all this secrecy is very concerned about the family’s privacy.”
Was it because of her dad? Had he made threats against her mother and her family to keep them from being easy to locate?
“I’m going to visit them,” Bree said. “I’ll do whatever it takes for me to talk to them.”
“I think that’s at least worth a shot. Just let me know if you get any more information that I can use to find your mother.”
They disconnected after he gave her the exact address, and Bree saw that it was time to leave for her appointment.
Nick was already sitting in the waiting room when she arrived. “Sorry I’m late,” she said to him as she walked over to check in at the desk.
“You’re right on time,” he told her. “I was early.” When she sat down next to him, he whispered, “I’m a little anxious.”
Sh
e smiled and patted his hand. “You’ll be fine. They won’t ask you to put your feet into stirrups.”
He chuckled. “Thank goodness. I wore the wrong shoes to ride a horse today.”
She laughed, enjoying their continued camaraderie.
Not long after that she was called back. “How are you feeling?” the nurse asked as she showed her to the exam room.
Bree filled her in on how much better she was doing, while Nick sat quietly in the chair in the corner of the small room.
“You can have a seat on the table,” the nurse said before taking her blood pressure. “Looks good. The doctor will be in soon and you’ll get to hear your baby’s heartbeat.”
Bree’s eyes widened. She hadn’t expected that. She looked at Nick, who appeared just as surprised. “That’s great.”
The nurse left them alone and they were silent until Nick said, “I didn’t think you were far enough along to hear the baby’s heartbeat.”
“Me, neither.” She was still trying to process it. She was going to hear an actual heartbeat.
A few minutes later, the doctor knocked and came into the exam room. “Good morning, Bree, how are you?” Before Bree could answer, the grandmotherly doctor looked at Nick and said, “Welcome. I’m Dr. Bell. Are you the father?” She put a hand out to shake Nick’s.
He stood and shook her hand. “Yes, I am. Nick Harmon.” He returned to his seat.
Dr. Bell looked at Bree and said, “I take it the two of you have worked things out since you told him about the baby. You’re planning to keep it?”
Bree swallowed. “Actually, Nick is going to raise it. He won’t agree to adoption, so he’ll have sole custody.”
The doctor’s eyebrows rose, but she wisely kept her thoughts to herself.
Bree continued explaining. “Nick would like to be involved prenatally, so he’ll be coming to as many of my appointments as possible.”
“I see.” Dr. Bell looked from one to the other. “I’m glad you could come to such a civilized agreement.”
Bree’s thoughts exactly. Which was why she’d suggested a written contract.