by Meg Tilly
“Sure,” he said.
The sign turned out to be quite cumbersome and heavy. It wouldn’t have presented any difficulty a year and a half ago when he was at full strength.
Would he always view his life this way? Divided into two distinct compartments: before the “accident” and after?
When lifting the sign, he made sure to take the bulk of its weight on his good side, planting his left leg carefully. How those two women had managed to get it into the kitchen in the first place was beyond him.
He didn’t bother mentioning that there wasn’t an appropriate place in his stall to attach the sign. Or that the weight of it would send his tent crashing to the ground. No need to add to their already sky-high stress level. Perhaps he could figure out a way to jerry-rig something.
Once the sign was safely stowed in his truck, he took another look at his watch and sighed.
Luke had a preferred way of doing things. A throwback, he supposed, to running a corporation with more than a thousand employees looking to him for guidance. In those days, he’d had to be time conscious, highly organized, and incredibly detail oriented.
Not so much anymore.
He stretched, enjoying the morning sunshine on his face.
On a normal Saturday, he would arrive at the market at 7:45 a.m., an hour and fifteen minutes before it opened. That way he could back his truck into a parking spot that was only forty-five feet from the entrance. Even a ten-minute difference in arrival time could morph that distance into a hundred to two hundred feet farther to travel—important when one had a lot of stuff to haul.
He’d set up his table, then take his mug and amble over to Claude’s booth to snag a double espresso. Returning to his stall, he’d sit back in his chair, enjoy the smoky taste, and watch the market come to life around him. When the early birds showed up a half hour before the official start, he’d have everything in its place. He had perfected his layout so he didn’t have to waste time looking for things. Could just reach and grab. Bang—here’s your bread, your croissants, and that’ll be $22.50, please.
His cell phone buzzed. He pulled it out of his worn jacket and glanced at the number on the screen. Figures. “Yep,” he said into the phone.
His brother’s familiar voice filtered through. “How you doing, Luke?”
“Fine.”
“Where are you now?” Jake asked. “No, let me guess. Sitting in some two-bit stall, selling bread for a pittance. Jesus. If I hadn’t seen it for myself, I’d be laughing my ass off. Haven’t you had enough of this introspective-contemplation-of-the-inner-working-of-your-navel?”
“Nope.”
“Look,” his brother said, “I’m not making light of what happened. Adyna was a piece of work, and what she did was truly messed up. I’m sorry she’s dead, but—”
“Drop it,” Luke cut in. He still couldn’t believe he had been so stupid. The invincible Luke Benson, founder and CEO of Benson International Security Inc., had fallen for the oldest con in the book: his fiancée’s “brother” had actually been her lover, and her entire relationship with Luke had been a setup from the start.
He should have left, turned around and shut the door the moment he found her sprawled back on his desk, her scarlet silk evening gown shoved up around her pale hips. But he hadn’t. His legs had refused to move, his brain unable to compute what he was seeing. Another man, kneeling before Adyna, his hands spreading her thighs wide, his tongue working her over, his fingers entering his wife-to-be.
“What the fuck?” Luke had yelled.
Adyna had jerked up onto her elbows, her mouth and eyes wide Os. The man had spun around, and that was when Luke had seen his face: Jasper, Adyna’s brother, diving for his jacket, the gun, the flash—
Jake was still talking. “But that’s over and done with. No need to abandon the multimillion-dollar security company you founded and built.”
“Didn’t abandon it, baby brother,” Luke said, shaking the memories off. “I passed the reins over to you. The company’s in good hands. Thriving, actually.”
Silence. Jake always had had a difficult time accepting a compliment.
“Are you happy?” Jake asked.
“Happy?” Luke snorted.
“All right, maybe that’s pushing it. But are you okay? Are you content?”
Luke thought about baking bread. Good bread. How he had a line of people waiting on Saturday mornings to purchase it. He thought of his dog, his old pickup truck, the home he’d found, the sunlight that danced on the water, the sound of its gentle lapping as it met the shore. And then Maggie came out of the house, as if on cue. Her arms were laden with baked goods, and a triumphant smile lit up her face.
“Yeah,” Luke said. “I am.”
“We’re ready!” Maggie called. Her sister, similarly loaded down, was following behind.
“Who’s that?” his brother asked.
“Sorry. There’s static. Can’t hear. Gotta go,” Luke said, and pressed the red end button on his phone.
* * *
• • •
“THERE YOU GO,” Maggie said, sending the last of her pies off to a good home. She swiped her forearm across her face. She felt sweaty and gritty, and her feet were sore from standing on the asphalt. But none of that mattered.
“Congratulations,” Luke said, the deep rumble of his voice sending tingles to all of her nerve endings. “You sold out. Maggie and Eve’s Home-Cooked Comforts is an unequivocal, smashing success.”
“A good deal of that success belongs at your doorstep,” she said, glancing up at him. He really was easy on the eyes.
“I didn’t bake it.”
“No,” Maggie said, smiling at him. “But you shared your tent and table with us—”
“Didn’t really have a choice.”
“And you helped us carry our stuff and set up and didn’t get too grouchy when we got in your way—”
“Again,” he said, eyes twinkling, holding his hands up like she was a highway robber, “didn’t have an option.”
Maggie’s phone buzzed. She glanced to where it was resting faceup on the table. Great. She shook her head. Another text from Carol. She turned her phone so it was facedown. I’m on frickin’ vacation. Do not want the latest details of Brett’s stupid affair.
Maggie straightened her spine and turned back to Luke. “Well, you certainly didn’t have to send your customers over to our line.”
“Or,” Eve chimed in, “need to make a big show of stealing coffee cake squares and eating them loudly, proclaiming how tasty they were.”
“Just telling the truth, lady. Just telling the truth,” Luke said with an easy laugh, but his gaze was still fixed on Maggie. Watchful, as if he had X-ray vision and could see the contents of Carol’s latest text. Knew Maggie’s ex-fiancé had just been caught with his pants down around his ankles, screwing Kristal against the copy machine. “Not my fault if the Saturday market attendees are prone to eavesdropping—”
“Eavesdropping?” Maggie retorted lightly, as if she hadn’t needed to expend considerable energy to eradicate the unwanted image that the text had called forth. “They could have heard you five stalls down.”
Luke leaned over Maggie, causing her pulse to accelerate. “No need doing something if one doesn’t do it well,” he murmured.
And just like that, liquid heat pooled in her belly, melting the knot that had taken residence there.
Maggie knew Luke was talking about helping to introduce her baking to the hungry hordes of Saturday market attendees. However, the silky velvet of his voice caused her mind to fly to more intimate things that he probably also did very well. She turned quickly and started packing up their boxes, hoping he wouldn’t notice the hot blush that she could feel flooding her face.
“How about a celebratory dinner?” he asked. “Not tonight,” he hastily added. “Saturday-night pla
ns, as you now know, are a washout. But how about tomorrow?”
Maggie turned. “You are nuts,” she said, poking a finger in his chest—his hard, warm chest, “if you think we’re going to cook for you again.” She wanted to linger there, to spread out her hand, explore, and stay awhile, probably just some weird adverse reaction to the situation back home. Luckily, she was not some wishy-washy woman driven wild by the sensation of the steady thump of his heart beneath her finger. She was a woman in charge. She removed her finger and stuck her hand behind her back for good measure.
“I was thinking,” he said, his voice having gone husky, “that I would cook for you.”
“It’s really not necessary,” Maggie said. “You’re letting us use your stall. That’s more than—”
“Dinner?” Eve butted in. “What a great idea. What’s your address, and what time do you want us? Actually, here.” She shoved a paper and pen at him. Where she had gotten it from so fast was a mystery to Maggie. But that was Eve. Whatever she wanted somehow appeared at her fingertips. “Write it down, or we’ll never remember. Phone number, too. Thanks!”
As Luke scribbled his info down, Eve smiled like a cat with a mouse under her paw. “That’s so lovely of you to invite us. It’ll be fun, huh, Maggs?”
“Yes,” Maggie said through gritted teeth, trying to catch her sister’s gaze so she could signal to Eve that she was overstepping.
Eve, however, stubbornly refused to look in her direction. “Wonderful!” Eve chirped. She took the paper with the info on it, gave it a quick glance, and tucked it into the pocket of her jeans. “Seven o’clock tomorrow night it is. This is so exciting! And here’s our phone number,” Eve said, handing him a scrap of paper. “Actually, it’s Maggie’s cell. I could give you mine, but it would be kind of pointless, since I rarely check it. You want us to bring anything? Dessert?”
“We aren’t bringing anything,” Maggie said.
“Oh, that’s right,” Eve said, still smiling. “This dinner is to celebrate and to make amends for standing us up.”
“Letting us crash his stall was making amen—”
“Nonsense,” Eve said briskly. “He feels that cooking dinner for us is necessary for the easing of his conscience. It would be surly and rude to deny him the pleasure. Isn’t that right, Luke?” Eve said, turning to him with a triumphant smile.
“Yes,” Luke said, and Maggie suspected he was trying his damnedest not to laugh at her sister’s antics.
“Fine,” Maggie said. “I’ll come.”
“And enjoy it?” Eve said.
“You missed your calling,” Maggie muttered. “You should have gone into law.” Eve just grinned at her. “Fine, yes. I’ll enjoy it.”
“This is lovely,” Eve said, clapping her hands. “I am so glad, Maggie, that you’ve decided not to hold a grudge. Dinner at seven it is. Oh wait!” She slapped a hand to her forehead. “I forgot. I have a previous engagement tomorrow night.”
“We could do Monday night, if that would work better for you?” Luke offered.
“Oh, no, no, no,” Eve said, batting his offer away. “It’s all set. Don’t let me spoil the fun. You two have dinner, and I’ll join you some other time.”
Before Maggie could get a word in edgewise, Eve had snatched up a stack of boxes and disappeared in the direction of their car.
Fourteen
“THERE,” EVE SAID, adding a finishing dab of lipstick to Maggie’s lower lip. She leaned back and squinted at her sister, then broke into a huge smile. “Oh, Maggie, you look so beautiful! Here . . .” She gave Maggie’s shoulders a little squeeze, then turned her around to face the mirror. “What do you think? Do you like it?”
“Oh my . . .” Maggie stared into the mirror. “Oh my . . .” She lifted her hand to her hair, ran her fingertips along her cheek. “I look . . . I look . . .”
“Beautiful,” Eve said with quiet satisfaction in her voice. “I’ve been wanting to do this for so long.”
“Wow.” Maggie sighed happily. “I can’t even believe it’s me.”
“Well, it is,” Eve said with an affectionate smile. “So you’d better get used to it. Now go knock ’em dead.”
“It’s just a—”
“Yes, I know,” Eve said in a soothing tone. She plucked a smoky-gray cashmere stole from her suitcase and draped it around Maggie’s shoulders. “Dinner with a friend.” She gave Maggie a gentle nudge toward the door. “Off you go, Maggs. Have fun.”
Maggie walked to her car in a daze. The silky ink blue dress that Eve had convinced her to wear was swirling around her legs. The cashmere stole caressed her shoulders and neck. It was difficult to wrap her mind around the fact that the vision she had seen in the mirror was actually her. Eve had been begging to make her over for years. Why had she resisted for so long?
Tonight she looked different. She felt different. Maybe if she had agreed to the makeover sooner, Brett wouldn’t have cheated and dumped her. No! she told herself firmly. Stop right there! It was not your fault. He was a jerk. Love is love. And if he loved you, it wouldn’t have mattered what you looked like. Maggie opened the car door. As Eve would say, “Do not waste one more precious second of your life on that dickhe—”
“Wait!” Eve bellowed, bursting out the front door of the cottage and charging over to the car. Something in her fist was fluttering behind her like a miniature foil-wrapped flag. “Here! I forgot to tuck these in your purse.”
“Wha . . . ?” Maggie started to say, but by then Eve was close enough, and she saw what they were. “No!” she yelped. “I’m just going for dinner!”
But Eve tossed them through the open window and started jogging back toward the house, her hands up, palms out in a don’t-shoot-the-messenger pose.
“Just in case,” Eve called. “You never know. Better safe than sorry!” She was back by the cottage now. “Love you. Bye. Have fun!” She blew Maggie an extravagant kiss and disappeared into the house, shutting the door behind her.
Maggie sighed. Seriously, her sister was nuts. There was no way Maggie was going to be having hot, mind-blowing sex with Luke—or anyone else, for that matter. At least not in the foreseeable future. She shook her head. My sister is a well-meaning, meddling pest, Maggie thought as she opened her purse and stuffed the condoms inside.
* * *
• • •
LUKE HEARD THE sound of tires on his gravel drive. But it wasn’t until Maggie’s car rounded the bend and he could see her inside, behind the wheel, that he let out the breath he hadn’t known he was holding.
She had come.
A feeling of rightness and anticipation surged through him.
She had come.
“Hello,” he called as she opened her car door.
“Hey there,” she replied.
She stepped out of the car, and he felt as if he’d been hit over the head with a two-by-four.
She was stunning. A vision. A goddess come to life. The last vestiges of light from the sunset made her auburn hair glow more brightly than burnished copper, creating a halo effect around her face.
And what a face.
He had known she was beautiful, but it was as if the special essence that was uniquely Maggie had been compounding and multiplying since yesterday afternoon.
He opened his mouth to say, Welcome. You look beautiful. But what came out was, “Gah . . .”
He shut his mouth.
“Pardon?” she said, tipping her head. She started walking toward him.
She had a damned sexy walk.
Luke decided in that moment that his abstinence-from-women policy was officially at an end.
That was . . .
. . . if she’d have him.
* * *
• • •
BEFORE SHE’D WALKED into his house, she hadn’t known what to expect, but given that he was a man who sold loave
s of bread at a stall, she sure hadn’t expected such an incredible residence. His home was amazing. The living room alone had rendered her practically speechless, with its soaring ceiling and large, arched windows that captured the ocean stretching out before them. The Olympic Peninsula was beyond that, mountains almost purple against the last vestiges of the setting sun, streaking the sky with color.
“How do you get anything accomplished?” she asked. “I think I would just stand here all day and drink in the view.”
He laughed. “I must admit, I do spend an inordinate amount of time doing just that.”
“Gorgeous,” she said. “Simply gorgeous.”
She turned to take in the rest of the room. Exposed wood beams following the curve of the ceiling; deep, comfortable sofas, their gray upholstery echoing some of the color in the stone fireplace along the wall. Samson, lounging beside the fire, lifted his shaggy head and regarded her solemnly. Good heavens, she thought. The stunning rug the dog was sprawled on—with its lush, deep reds, rust oranges, and golds—looked to be an antique Persian Kashan. Actually, she would have put money on it. Kashan rugs were way out of her price range, but she’d been lusting after one for years, so she knew a Kashan when she saw one. “You might want to get your rug checked out. It could be quite valuable.”
“Umm . . .” he replied.
“Where did you find it?”
“Around,” he said with a shrug.
Around! Why couldn’t she have that kind of luck? She wanted to take off all her clothes and roll around on that beautiful rug, try to absorb it into her skin.
She didn’t, of course. “Lovely,” she said quite politely, and moved on.
* * *
• • •
“DELICIOUS,” MAGGIE SAID, polishing off her last bite of steak. She was amazed she’d managed to eat anything while sitting opposite him, given how shy she’d felt when they’d first sat down. But now she didn’t feel nervous at all. Something else was thrumming through her body, and it certainly wasn’t nerves.