FOR HER EYES ONLY

by Tori Carrington

  "What?" Connor asked, his voice a croak.

  Jake was surprised, too. But only because he'd thought Pops was going to tell him he was dating someone they all knew from town. In the light of his situation, the information didn't hit him as hard as it seemed to hit his brothers.

  He slowly looked them over. From Connor, who pointedly avoided Sean's gaze, to Marc, who stepped backward, then forward again, completely speechless.

  Marc finally appeared to gain control over his tongue. "So what you're telling us… What you're saying… Do you mean my mother-in-law may become my stepmother?" he said.

  Conner finally looked at Sean as he appeared to work the kinks out of his neck. "Well, you're just going to have to end it."

  Jake hiked his brows and watched as Connor turned on his heel and stalked silently away.

  * * *

  Michelle sat at the kitchen table, her fingers wrapped around her mug of black coffee, as Jake's sisters-in-law combined their talents to make dinner. She'd tried to tell them tactfully they'd added far too much salt to the huge roast they'd put into the oven over an hour ago at a temperature sure to char it while leaving the insides raw. But the two women had consulted with each other and decided they'd done the right thing.

  She gazed through the back window at the green, green meadows that stretched as far as the eye could see behind the house. Two sleek black stallions—at least, she thought they were stallions—leisurely nibbled at the grass in a nice sized pen while Goliath ran the length of the newly erected wooden fence, barking at the two other males.

  Unlike Ohio, this land reminded her somewhat of home. While there were no neat rows of grape vines, there were rolling hills in a shade of green she once thought was only possible in the south of France.

  Home.

  She supposed she should feel relieved that she still thought of France as home. Because that's exactly what she needed to be thinking about right now. Despite the past few hours spent losing herself in Jake's strong arms, their conversation had made several things very clear. That she had put him at far more risk than she'd thought. And that she needed to go home as soon as possible … for his sake. But before she did so, she had to make sure nothing would happen to him. And, ironically, that meant seeking out the man they had expended so much effort avoiding.

  Her heart thudded so hard it hurt.

  "What do you think? Should I let them boil for another five minutes?"

  Startled from her thoughts, Michelle nearly choked on her coffee when Liz posed the question to a frowning Melanie.

  Both women were looking into a large pot they'd filled with potatoes and water, their heads together, emphasizing the difference in their shades of blond. Michelle's gaze drifted to where Mel absently rubbed the small mound that was her stomach. She tried to remember how she'd felt when she'd been six months pregnant with Lili. Her lips twitched in a smile as she remembered all the hopes and dreams that had filled her. All the plans she had made…

  Melanie turned from the stove, wiping her hands on a dish towel. "So, Mitch tells us you have a little girl?"

  Michelle shouldn't have been surprised by the question, but she was. Of course this family would talk to each other. Just because she thought herself and her problems closed off from the world didn't mean that was the case. She nodded and managed a polite smile. "Yes. Lili. She's … four," she said, keeping things simple. She didn't trust herself to go into detail about how Lili's birthday was this Saturday, and that she would be spending that day away from her. She was afraid she'd end up a blubbering mess.

  "That's nice," Mel said, smiling. "You don't mind if I ask you for some advice, do you? I mean, this being my first and all … well, sometimes it gets a little overwhelming, you know?"

  Michelle smiled. "Yes. I know."

  Fingers of smoke began to billow from the oven door. She'd never seen such an oven before. She suspected the door to the left was for firewood, of all things.

  "Oh, no!" Melanie cried, thrusting open the oven door.

  The room instantly filled with acrid black smoke.

  Michelle got up and pushed open the window. Liz propped open the door. Mel turned first one way, then another, then grabbed a pair of oven mitts and ran the charred meat out the back door. For long minutes, all of them coughed as they grabbed what they could to fan the smoke out. To top everything off, a smoke alarm sounded in the other room.

  "Great! Just great!" Melanie said, tossing her oven mitts onto the counter. "You have no idea the big deal Marc is going to make out of this. He's constantly humiliating me in front of our friends—not to mention his family—about my lack of culinary skills. This … well, this one just takes the cake."

  "I wouldn't use any food adages right now, Mel." Liz gave a short burst of laughter. Mel glared at her. Liz instantly tried to look contrite, though amusement shone in her bright hazel

  eyes.

  "Sorry."

  Michelle cleared her throat. "Well, you can always look at it this way. At least they won't ever find out how much salt you put on the meat."

  The two women stared at her. Afraid she had said completely the wrong thing, she searched for an excuse to leave the room. Then Mel followed Liz's lead, and laughter chased the last of the smoke from the room.

  "Oh, God," Liz said, clutching her side. "That smoke alarm is going to pierce my eardrums."

  Mel sighed. "The battery's got to run out sooner or later, right?"

  Michelle retrieved the broom from the corner, then led the way into the other room. She positioned the blunt end just so below the alarm. With one calculated whack, the blaring alarm was immediately cut off. She smiled at the two women.

  Mel rested both hands against her protruding stomach, her lips twisted in thought. "What is it you said you did for a living again?"

  Michelle grasped the broom tightly. They hadn't exactly gotten around to sharing information such as what each of them did in their daily lives. "I'm, um, a chef."

  Liz smacked her hand against her forehead. "God, do I ever feel dense."

  Mel linked her arm with Michelle's. "Well, why didn't you say something before?" she asked as she led the way to the kitchen.

  Liz took her other arm. "Maybe because we were too busy acting like Southern know-it-alls."

  Michelle had spent the past hour reviewing ways she might be able to put together a meal with the salvageable remains of the other women's attempts. She smiled as Mel and Liz released her.

  "Just tell us what you want us to do," Mel said. And Michelle did.

  * * *

  Jake stared at his plate in barely disguised shock. This couldn't be dinner. Where was the thick slab of meat? The mountain of potatoes dripping with butter and gravy? He turned again to see the bread on a small plate at his left elbow, then looked at Michelle. She seemed to be purposely avoiding his gaze. He frowned, then looked around the table, seeing that everyone had the same thing he had.

  In the center of the large plates that usually held piles of food was one perfect, silver-dollar-sized circle of what appeared to be beef—though he couldn't be sure because some sort of white sauce covered it—with what looked like a boiled potato decorated with—were those parsley leaves?—next to it. A small helping of cut green beans tossed with some sort of sliced nuts was to the right. And some sort of brown sauce had been dribbled over the plate in a kind of zigzag design.

  If he thought the McCoy men had been quiet before, they were downright silent now. Nobody messed with their meat and potatoes.

  "It's bourguignonne and pomme de terre," Michelle said quietly. "I hope you like it."

  Jake heard what sounded like a snicker from Liz. He caught Michelle biting her bottom lip to keep from laughing, as well. What were they up to?

  "This the first course?" Marc said, looking hopefully at the stove and countertops. Both were empty of a solitary pan. "I hope this is the first course." He forked his potato. "This had better be the first course. Oww!"

  Mel lifted her fork, then s
miled at everyone.

  Sean cleared his throat. "Well, Michelle, this looks … pretty enough to frame."

  "You're supposed to eat food, not frame it," Connor grumbled from the other end of the table.

  Jake looked back and forth between the two men. He'd hoped that during the drive from the cemetery to the house, things would have cooled down enough for them to have reached some sort of truce. But the interior of Mitch's new four-door truck had remained awfully quiet. Not even David's half-assed attempts at humor had been able to crack the silence.

  Mitch was the first to try the mystery meat. At the sound of his silverware against the plate, the occupants of the table watched as he carefully cut off a small bite, then slowly put it into his mouth. One chew. Two. Then he closed his eyes and made a humming sound Jake had never heard from him before. "Oh, Michelle. This is… What I mean is … wow. That's the best piece of meat I've ever tasted."

  "Piece of meat? Scrap is more like it," Connor said under his breath as David and Jake tried the food.

  The explosion of flavor on his tongue was unlike anything Jake had ever experienced. He reluctantly swallowed the bite, then looked at Michelle. She was concentrating a little too fully on her plate.

  Mitch leaned closer to his wife and lowered his voice, though everyone in the room heard him anyway. "Liz, what happened to that big roast I saw in the refrigerator this morning?"

  Liz smiled a little too widely. "This is it."

  Sean coughed and reached for his glass of milk. "You cook much, Michelle?"

  Jake wiped his mouth with his napkin. "Actually, Michelle's a chef."

  David brightened. "I knew this food looked familiar. I went to this frou—um, this French place in D.C. last spring. The stuff they served looked just like this. Huge plate… Anyway, I've gotta tell you the cost of the meal would have been enough for me to eat off for a month. So I guess we should feel honored to have a chef of Michelle's caliber in our midst."

  This time Michelle tittered in a way that shocked Jake. She lifted her napkin to her mouth but didn't look at him. "Um, pardon me."

  The go-ahead on the food having been given, it took a whole two minutes for the contents of the plates to vanish, not even leaving the decorative design as the men sopped it up with their bread. Thank God there was at least a lot of that.

  "Well," Marc said, "I think I speak for everyone when I say that was certainly a meal to remember." He began to push from the table.

  "I second that." David followed suit.

  Mitch cleared his throat. "Um, Michelle? While I enjoyed the meal and everything, the next time around … you may want to double, no, quadruple, the portion size. We McCoy men really cut loose come meal time. And meat—a lot of it—and mashed potatoes hits the spot unlike anything else."

  Jake could have sworn that was a smile Michelle hid behind her napkin. "I'll keep that in mind, Mitch. Thank you."

  Liz sat up straighter. "I, for one, thoroughly enjoyed the meal, Michelle. Feel free to cook for us any time you want."

  Jake couldn't figure out what was going on, but the way the three women eyed each other, then quickly looked away told him something certainly was.

  Near the door to the living room, he caught David whispering to Marc, "You put up the money for the pizza, and I'll run into Culpepper to get it."

  "Make it two pizzas with the works, and you've got yourself a deal," Marc said.

  A moment later, the sound of a football game filled the interior of the house, another tradition now that autumn was just around the corner.

  Michelle began to clear the plates with Liz and Mel, leaving Jake, Connor and Pops at the table.

  "We'll get those," Pops said, taking the small stack Michelle had gathered. "It's only fair seeing as you gals took care of the food."

  Connor snorted. Jake glared at him and took the glasses to the sink. Connor pushed from the table then stalked through the back door.

  "What's that all about?" Mel asked, putting a fresh pot of coffee on to brew.

  Liz emptied a bag of store-bought cookies onto a plate, stuck one in her mouth, then placed the plate on the table along with clean glasses and a gallon of milk. "You know, now that you mention it, all you guys were a little quiet during dinner. Did something happen?"

  Sean met Jake's gaze. "Nothing that won't blow over in a day or two."

  The phone rang. Pops snatched the receiver up in the middle of the second ring. He glanced at Jake, then rounded the corner, apparently in a bid to speak in private. To Mel's mom, Wilhemenia? Jake didn't know. But one thing was for sure—nothing would blow over if Sean didn't let things lie for a bit. Connor was more upset than Jake had ever seen him. It was a good sign that he'd stuck around for dinner, but Jake guessed that was more to see how their father would ultimately respond to what he'd said than an indication that Connor's mood had improved.

  He glanced at Melanie, wondering what she'd have to say when she found out what had really gone down at the cemetery that morning.

  "Coming through!" Jake moved out of the way as David zipped through the room, undoubtedly on his way to pick up the pizza.

  In the chaos of his family's constantly industrious lives, Jake almost forgot how Michelle had avoided looking directly at him during dinner. Almost. He sought her out, only to find her stacking dishes in the dishwasher, her back firmly to him. He didn't know what had happened while he was gone, but he was sure it was more than the dinner they'd just eaten.

  * * *

  Chapter 14

  « ^ »

  Michelle closed the bedroom door with a soft click. She'd told Jake she really needed to get some sleep. She did, but that's not the reason she wanted to be alone. Dinner may have been all fun and games for her, Mel and Liz, but there was nothing fun about what she needed to do now.

  She sank down on the single bed and wrapped her arms around herself to gather warmth, despite the heat of the day. What would Jake's family say if they knew about her past? Jake had seemed more upset by the news than she would have thought possible. And he knew her better than the others. Cared for her more.

  She stared at the cell phone on the bed in front of her. She reached for it, then pulled her hand back.

  Coward, she told herself.

  Yes, she admitted, she was a coward and a fool. A grade-A fool for thinking that this thing with Jake could have ended any other way than it had to.

  She rubbed her forehead. How easy it was when enfolded in Jake's strong arms to believe everything would be all right. That somehow he could move the mountains that separated her from her daughter, and protect her from his government, who wanted to send her back to France.

  She wasn't sure when this had all happened. She suspected way back in the beginning after the purse snatching, when he'd played knight in shining armor to her damsel in distress. She'd taken one look at those sober gray eyes, those large hands, and all that deeply suppressed need for someone to share the burden with had bubbled to the surface. She rolled her eyes to stare at the ceiling. Who was she kidding? She'd wanted to shift the leaden weight on her shoulders completely over to him. Trouble was, he'd been more than willing to accept the load. Some new millennium woman she was.

  Still, it baffled her how, after spending twenty-eight years on her own, having and raising her daughter, forging a career and a life for herself, how she'd managed to get sucked into visions of a fairy-tale life she'd stopped believing in long ago.

  But none of that changed that all possibility of finding Lili was exhausted. And that by staying here, without taking any action, she was only delaying the inevitable. While that had appealed to her a mere hour before … well, now she recognized the unfairness of it.

  Already, she'd begun to make her niche in his family. Liz and Mel—they were the sisters she'd always hoped her step-sisters would be but never were. They were happy and witty and incredibly smart, and she knew that it wouldn't take very long to come to care for them—and the rest of the McCoy bunch—very much. Just as she'd com
e to care immeasurably for Jake. By allowing those bonds to grow stronger, she'd be hurting more than just Jake. And the pain she would feel would only deepen.

  God, when had the world gotten so damned complicated? Since when was it a sin to play the role of rebellious college student? To want her daughter back with her mother where she belonged? When had it become a bad thing to love someone so much you would sacrifice even your own heart for them?

  She reached into her backpack and rustled around. Frowning, she began taking the things out one by one. After a thorough search, it became apparent she was short one small stuffed elephant.

  She closed her eyes. Lili would have a fit.

  Oh, dear, sweet Lili…

  She didn't know how she would possibly live without her daughter for one more day, much less the years that yawned before her. One thing was plain, though. She would never give up looking for her. Never. She would have to do it from France. She didn't care where she'd find the money for it. She'd beg, borrow and steal, work three jobs, borrow from her father, to get it. Whatever it took. But she would never stop looking, no matter how old she or her daughter got. She only hoped that one day Lili would forgive her for not haying been a better mother.

  Her fingers circled the cold plastic of the cell phone. After spreading out her visa papers, she carefully punched in the contact number, then lifted the phone to her ear. "Agent Edgar Mollens, please."

  * * *

  The stuffed elephant looked ridiculously fragile in his large hands. Jake ran his thumbs down the length of the rounded belly, then fixed the lopsided trunk He'd never been much for toys when he was a kid. That this one could hold so much significance baffled him. But it did.

  He slid a glance toward the stairs Michelle had disappeared up a half hour ago, claiming a need for some major shut-eye, then he looked at his brothers. Two large pizza boxes sporting nothing but goo littered the coffee table, and every other available piece of furniture sported McCoy males in various stages of repose. The football game was at half time, Liz and Mel sat in the kitchen discussing recipes Michelle had passed on to them, Pops was in the hall on the phone again and Connor's absence was obvious but not mentioned.