Keeping Her Guilty Secret (Forever Yours Trilogy)

by James, Anna

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I called out, but I guess you didn’t hear me over the loud music. Great voice, by the way.”

  He heard her singing? Heat crept up her neck and flooded her cheeks. Great. Just great. What was he doing here, anyway?

  He leaned in toward her. A hint of his cologne drifted past her nostrils. He smelled good. Really good.

  She stared up at him and her stomach fluttered. Gorgeous, and smelled good. Oh my.

  “Nicole?”

  Good God, focus woman.

  “Yes?”

  “I said, it’s a good thing you had these on to protect you.”

  She peered down at her oversized coveralls and groaned. “Oh, I’ll never get this out.”

  “I really am sorry,” he said again, but couldn’t quite hide another grin.

  “No, you’re not. And don’t you dare laugh at me. This is your fault.” She wiped her hands, took off the hat covering her hair, and began to unzip the coveralls. “This is gross. I’m going inside to clean up.”

  “Hey, wait. I need to speak with you.”

  “Fine, but you’ll have to wait until I change.” She opened the door to the kitchen and gestured for him to enter. “You can wait in the living room.”

  “Thanks.”

  He stepped by her, and she drew in a sharp breath. Gorgeous, he smelled good, and those faded jeans, brown leather bomber jacket and aviator sunglasses . . . Sexy as all get out. She sighed.

  Twenty minutes later, Nicole came back downstairs dressed in a pair of old faded jeans, her favorite, and an emerald green sweater. She peered around the living room, but Max was nowhere to be found.

  A crash in the garage had her hurrying through the kitchen. She yanked open the connecting door and found him, poised over several old paint cans.

  “What on earth?”

  “Sorry,” he said. “I accidentally knocked them off the shelf.”

  He bent down, she assumed to retrieve the cans, and a loud tearing sound filled the air. He froze. The seam, which ran from the collar of the coveralls he’d donned down to his rear end had split wide open. She let out a bark of laughter.

  Max jerked upright, his face flaming red.

  “Why are you wearing my coveralls?” she asked.

  “They were the only ones I could find and I needed to protect my clothes.”

  The coveralls she’d worn earlier, her father’s old pair that she wore for sentimental reasons, would have been a better fit for him. Hers were almost a foot too short and the sleeves barely made it past his elbows. He’d zipped the front, but the strain on the fabric must have been too much when he bent over. “Protect your clothes from what?”

  He gave a light tug on the fabric. “From any splatters. I finished changing your oil. I figured it was the least I could do, all things considered.”

  “You did?”

  He nodded.

  Her lips curved into a big smile. Handsome, smelled good, hot, even in a pair of too-small coveralls, and nice, too. A hard combination to resist. No! Not getting involved. “Thank you.”

  He stepped out of the protective garment, rolled it up, and threw it in the trash. “You’re welcome. And I’ll replace these for you.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I don’t wear them anyway.” A gust of wind blew through the open garage door. She stepped by him and swung the door down, then rubbed her shoulders to ward off the sudden chill. “Let’s go back inside.”

  Max picked up the cans he’d knocked over, placed them back on the shelf, and followed.

  Once inside, Nicole walked to the pantry, grabbed what was left of the bag of potatoes, then dumped them in the sink. “You said you wanted to talk.” She washed each one, set them atop a dry towel on the counter, and began to peel.

  He gave her a speculative glance.

  Oh yes. Should never have kissed him.

  “It’s about the wedding.”

  The wedding. Ash and Reed. Not the kiss they’d shared. Okay, good. “Fine. I hope you don’t mind talking while I get dinner ready.”

  “You cook?”

  She wiggled her eyebrows. “It usually helps if I want to eat.” When the potatoes were peeled, she went to the freezer and grabbed the three round cakes she’d made last weekend then, after setting each on the counter, went to the fridge for two packages of cream cheese.

  Max came over and peered down at the items. “What do we have here?”

  “A three-tier carrot cake with cream cheese frosting when I’m done.”

  “Homemade?”

  She smiled. “From scratch. Its Ash’s favorite. I made it because she’s home this week.”

  “You made this?”

  “Yes.”

  His eyes widened. “From scratch?”

  She laughed. Hadn’t she just said as much? “Yeah.”

  “It must have taken hours.”

  “No. About twenty minutes to make the batter and then another thirty-five to forty to bake. It’ll take me another fifteen minutes or so to whip up the frosting once the cream cheese softens and a few minutes more to frost the cake.”

  “Why did you freeze it?”

  “In this case because I made the cakes last weekend. But mostly because it’s much easier to frost when the cakes are hard. They don’t fall apart as easily.”

  Max nodded. “You seem to know a lot about baking.”

  “It’s one of my hobbies. I like making gourmet desserts.”

  “Funny, I like eating desserts, gourmet or simple.”

  He flashed another of his devastating grins and, heaven help her, this time she did go a little weak in the knees. “I’ll keep that in mind. I’m always looking for a guinea pig to taste my new creations.”

  “So let me get this straight. You’re a project manager, you design wedding gowns, you cook family dinners and make homemade gourmet desserts from scratch, and you can do an oil change. Is there anything you don’t do?”

  She stared at him and gave what she hoped passed for a deadpan expression. “I don’t do windows.”

  He laughed, a rich, warm, baritone vibration that came from deep within. The sound sent little tingles down her spine and made her grin.

  “Where do you find the time?”

  “I only cook one big meal a week, on Sundays. With our crazy schedules, it’s the only day my sisters and I can get together, and even that is hard to do with Ashley’s school over four hours away. I only make desserts for special occasions.”

  “You make a family dinner every Sunday? Even when it’s only you and Kate?”

  She nodded. “My mother started the tradition when we were little. No matter what, everyone had to be home for Sunday dinner.”

  “That’s a nice tradition.”

  “Yes, it is, although I have to admit I thought it was pretty corny when I was a teenager. I’m glad now she insisted.”

  “How old were you when they died?” he asked softly.

  She closed her eyes for a brief moment and drew in a steadying breath. Six years later, and the car accident that took their lives still haunted her. “I’d just turned twenty.”

  “Too young an age to take on the responsibility of raising two sisters.”

  She gave him a little laugh. “I didn’t do it all alone. I had Grams, my maternal grandmother, for a little while. I really couldn’t have done it without her. She let us move in here with her after I had to sell my parents’ house, which allowed me to go to night school and get a business degree. It took me three years, but I did it. I just wish she’d lived long enough to see me graduate.”

  He leaned his elbows down on the counter at watched as she beat the cream cheese and sugar for the frosting in a mixing bowl.

  “I thought you went to school for fa
shion design?”

  “That’s how I started out, but after the accident, I needed something more practical so I worked days and took business classes each semester at night.”

  “You’re a pretty amazing lady.”

  She shook her head. “Not really. I just did what had to be done.” And if I hadn’t screwed up things would have been easier for everyone involved. Time to change the subject.

  “What about you? Did you have any family traditions?”

  Max tilted his head to the side as if contemplating the question. “Not really. It was only Mom and me for a long time until Ken came along.”

  After covering the bottom cake with icing, Nicole added the next layer and repeated the process. He’d mentioned Reed’s father, but not his own. Why? Had his parents split when he was little and he never got to see his dad? She couldn’t imagine that. It had just about killed her when she and her father had quarreled over her dropping out of college to take the internship with designer Christina D’Agata. “What happened to your father?” The words were out of her mouth before her brain could stop them and, Jeez Louise, what had possessed her to ask such a question? She didn’t need to get up close and personal with him. “Forget I asked.”

  He smiled. “No, it’s okay. My dad died before I was born.”

  Nicole sucked in a deep breath. “I’m sorry. How did he die?”

  “A heart defect, but he didn’t know. One day after mowing the lawn, he had a massive heart attack and died. He was only thirty-two.”

  Nicole shuddered. “That’s awful.”

  “Yes, but it was harder on my mother than me.”

  “It’s too bad you never got to meet him.”

  “Still, I’m a lucky man. Max Paradis Senior may have been my father, but Ken McNamara has always been my dad.”

  Nicole smiled. Good-looking, smelled delicious, sinfully sexy, kind, and he liked his parents. Almost too good to be true. “Ken and Audrey are great people.”

  He nodded. “Yes, they are.”

  The front door opened.

  “We’re back,” Ashley called from the living room. A moment later she entered the kitchen and Reed followed behind. “It smells fantastic in here. When’s dinner going to be ready?”

  Nicole checked her watch. “The roast has another twenty minutes or so, maybe less.”

  “Great, I’m starving,” Ashley said. “Reed, honey, help me set the table?”

  Reed nodded.

  “How many place settings do we need?”

  “You staying?” Reed asked Max.

  He shook his head. “I don’t want to intrude.”

  Ashley lifted her hand and gave a little wave. “Who’s intruding? You’re family now.”

  He hesitated for a moment, and Nicole held her breath waiting for him to answer, then he turned a smile in her direction.

  “Yes, I’d love to.”

  A rush of warmth flooded through her and she found herself grinning up at him. Oh yes, trouble with a capital T.

  Reed aimed a speculative glance in Max’s direction. “What are you doing here?”

  “I wanted to talk to Nicole about the wedding. I assume she’ll be the maid of honor and you’ve already asked me to be best man.”

  “Um, actually . . .” Ashley peered up at Nicole, a sheepish look on her face. “I want Kate to be my maid of honor. I want you to give me away.”

  “Me?”

  Ashley nodded. “Who else would I ask? Without you, I’m not sure I would have gotten through these past six years. You’re the only person I’d even consider.”

  Her eyes filled with tears and she gave Ashley a watery smile. “Of course, I’ll give you away. I’d be honored.”

  Ashley rushed over and hugged her tight. “I’m so glad. I wasn’t sure you’d do it.”

  “Why?”

  “I thought you’d have your heart set on being the maid of honor. We had it all planned out when we were kids. Remember?”

  Nicole laughed. “That’s right, we did.” Her smile faded. “A lot has changed since then.”

  Ashley eased away, wiped her own eyes, and went to the cabinet to grab a stack of plates. “Yeah, it has.”

  The timer dinged and Nicole hurried to the stove. She pulled open the oven door and the heavenly aroma of seasoned roast beef filled the air. She checked the meat thermometer and then peered up at the others. “Cooked to perfection.” She lifted the pan and set it on the counter, then went to the stove to check on the potatoes. “These have a few more minutes.”

  “Is there anything else I can help with?” Max asked.

  “Can you make gravy?” she asked hopefully.

  Reed snorted. “I’ll do it. Max here could burn a pot of water.”

  Max lifted an eyebrow and shot his brother a withering glare. “Don’t bother.”

  “You can make the salad, Reed,” she said.

  Max stepped around the butcher block island to the stove. Nicole tossed him her apron. “Just in case you need to protect your clothes, you know, from any splatters.” His laughter ensured he understood her reference to him wearing her coveralls earlier. Gorgeous, he smelled good, was sexy as all get out, nice, liked his parents, and he could laugh at himself, too. Oh yes, hard to resist, indeed.

  He grinned at her, folded over the top part, which had hung around her neck and tied the strings around his waist.

  “Step aside and let the master have at it.”

  He gave her a wink and pulled her out of the way. Their eyes met. Her pulse rate soared and every nerve ending inside tingled. He dropped her hand and she stepped away. Had he been as affected by the contact as she?

  The kitchen door burst open and Kate entered. “Good, I’m not late.”

  “You’re just in time,” Nicole replied and set to work mashing the potatoes.

  They sat down at the table, and Max took the seat opposite her. Ashley regaled them with more wedding plans while they ate, although Nicole wouldn’t have been able to recite them back if her life depended on it. Her only focus had been on Max. The way his strong hands gripped the utensils and deftly sliced the meat on his plate, the satisfaction evident in his grin when Reed begrudgingly admitted the gravy was delicious, and the heat in his eyes when he glanced over at her and found her staring at him. It sparked an answering fire inside her.

  “What do you think, Nicole?”

  Oh crap. “About what?”

  “Max returning to Paradis and McNamara?” Reed asked.

  Returning? Okay, Obviously she’d missed something important here.

  “Well?” Ashley prompted.

  “Um . . .”

  Ashley’s eyes narrowed. “You haven’t been paying attention to a word we’ve been saying.”

  Nope. She’d been ogling Max. Fantasizing. Again. “I think it’s up to Max.”

  “You don’t have a problem working with me?”

  She glanced up at Max and found him gazing down at her with those gorgeous sapphire blue eyes. Tiny frissons of pleasure radiated through her. How was she going to get any work done when one look from him got her all hot and bothered? But, no way could she tell him that mortifying little truth. “No, of course not.”

  Reed smiled. “Good, then you’re out of excuses, Max. There’s no reason why you can’t come back.”

  Max shot him a stony glare. “I’ll think about it.”

  Max didn’t want to return to Paradis and McNamara, the company he’d started from scratch? Why? Oh yes, she’d definitely missed something important while gawking at him and not paying attention to the conversation going on around her.

  The front doorbell ringing a few minutes later was a welcome relief to the sudden tension that filled the air. “I’ll go see who it is.”

  She ope
ned the door and immediately tried to slam it shut again. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.

  Carlo stuck a foot in the opening before it closed and forced his way in. “Not so fast, sweetheart.”

  Nicole glared at him. “I am not your sweetheart.”

  “Baby,” he chided and ran his hand down her cheek. “Is that any way to talk to me after everything we meant to each other?”

  She slapped his hand away. “I meant nothing to you. Now, get out of here.”

  “No problem. Just give me my money and I’ll leave.”

  “Will you keep your voice down? My sisters are inside and if they come in here, there won’t be any reason to pay you.”

  “I want my money,” he repeated. “And you will pay me or you know what will happen.”

  No! “Carlo, be reasonable.”

  His eyes bore down into hers. “I have been reasonable and I’ve given you enough time to come up with the cash.”

  She squashed the fine tremors racing through her. “It’s only been two days, and I don’t have that kind of cash sitting around.”

  He grabbed her wrist. “Then I suggest you start liquidating your assets. Now.”

  What assets? She didn’t have any. She tried to pull away from him. “You’re hurting me.”

  He yanked her back and squeezed her wrist harder. “I—want—my—money.”

  “Let go, or I’m going to call the police.”

  “Nicole, is everything all right? I heard someone at the door.”

  Carlo dropped her hand.

  Max ambled over, put an arm around her shoulder, and kissed her cheek. “I didn’t realize we had company. I’m Max Paradis. And you are?”

  Carlo’s lips tightened into a thin white line. “This is obviously a bad time. I’ll call you later, and we’ll continue our conversation then.”