by Diane Darcy
“Adam, I just don’t eat that much. It's just the two of us, and some of these things are horribly expensive. And did I mention that I just don’t eat that much?”
Adam studied the items in the cart. “I’m not eating everything all by myself, so I guess you’ll have to help, won’t you?”
“Let’s put some of it back.” She picked up a jar. “I mean what on earth can you make with capers? I don't even know what a caper is.”
“A caper is a pickled flower bud. Don't worry; you'll love them.”
“At ten dollars a can? I’m not sure I will. And the steaks are outrageously expensive. Let's put them back and get some frozen burgers or maybe some more chicken.”
“Izzy, it’s going to be fun. You’ll see.”
“Fun? What do you mean?”
Adam shrugged. “I’m all about having a good time while I cook.”
Izzy’s brows furrowed. “I'm all about thrift. Can’t we be thrifty and have fun, too?”
“I don't have to worry about money and I'm not going to apologize. Come on. Lighten up.”
“Lighten up, he says.” She chewed on her lip for a moment, then to his surprise, she looked up and smiled. “Do you know what? I like your attitude. You’re right. Let’s have fun. I intend to learn a thing or two from you. When I finally get my full-time job and my awesome apartment, then I’m going to splurge once in a while, too.”
Adam didn’t comment, but he really hoped she never left. Maybe if he spoiled her enough she never would. He’d be glad to pamper her for a long time to come. Forever, in fact.
She was looking into the cart again. “You know, since we’re spending so much on food, maybe we should put the cleaning supplies back and make our own. Baking soda and vinegar make good substitutes and we could--”
He laughed. “Your change of heart didn’t last long. Now move aside,” he grasped her by the waist and physically moved her away from the cart and took over driving. His hands gripped the handle as he pushed it along and he waited for his heart to stop thudding so hard in his chest. If touching her for three seconds had that effect on him, he was in more trouble than he’d realized.
As they checked out, he amused himself by watching her study the register as the items tallied up. She occasionally shook her head, taking a few deep breaths, but otherwise didn’t comment.
Adam pushed the cart as they left the store. Once outside, they almost ran into a matronly woman selling flowers, her dark hair streaked with gray, and her wide smile white as she held up a yellow rose. “Only three dollars. A pretty flower for a pretty lady.”
“I’ll take a flower for the lady. Izzy? Which one would you like?”
She groaned softly and shook her head. “No more, Adam. Not one cent more. My family has cost you enough money, and then the groceries.” She shook her head again.
“If you don’t let me buy one, I’ll buy even more. It looks like there are daisies, tulips, and roses. So I could purchase--”
“I’d love a rose.” She inserted hurriedly. “That one.” She pointed to a red flower.
The lady plucked it out of the water bucket, wrapped some thin tissue around it, and handed it to Izzy. She looked at Adam. “Your lady is very pretty.”
“She’s a beauty,” Adam agreed as he paid for the flower and added a generous tip.
Izzy lifted the flower to her nose and closed her eyes as her cheeks flushed a becoming shade of pink. “Thank you. It’s lovely.”
As she turned and walked toward the car, Adam pushed the cart after her slim figure, wishing she really was his lady. The thought hit him hard. He knew she wasn’t thinking in those terms. She was too worried about her father and sister and the whole situation.
It might make him a jerk, but while he had her, he was going to try to win her heart.
Chapter Six
WHEN THEY ARRIVED HOME, IZZY shot out of the car and waited beside the trunk and helped Adam bring the bags inside. Once they’d delivered everything to the kitchen, Isabelle did her best to help Adam put everything away, focusing on the items that needed refrigeration.
He stuck his head out of the pantry. “After dinner, do you want to go down to the beach? We could build a fire, or look for seashells or something.”
Isabelle glanced out the window. Who knew how long she’d be there? She’d best take advantage of the private beach while she could. “Sure. That sounds like fun.”
As she organized their purchases in the refrigerator, she admitted to herself she was feeling a little confused about what he wanted from her. She had to work hard to find anything to clean, and now he was going to be helping with the grocery shopping and cooking? Maybe he was just lonely, rattling around in this huge place. She finally decided to stop worrying about it and just enjoy the time there.
Adam got out a cutting board and a knife. “I always chop the onions and green peppers and freeze them for later use. That way I can just pull them out when I need them.” He grabbed the small bag of onions, plucked one out, and started slicing off the top layer.
“Do you want me to do it?” she asked.
“I’ve got it.” He started to chop the first one in rapid strokes clear up to his fingertips.
“Be careful, that knife looks sharp.”
As she watched, mesmerized by the quick chopping motions, he glanced up and grinned at her, then flinched. He jerked his hand up and stared at the blood welling on the tip of his middle finger, disbelief etched on his face. He glanced at her and laughed. It finally got Isabelle moving.
She grabbed her purse, pulled out a Band-Aid, and rounded the kitchen island. Ripping a paper towel from its roll, she reached for Adam’s hand. He lifted it high and a few drops of blood hit the front of his blue shirt.
“It’s fine. It’s just a nick. That’s what I get for showing off.”
Isabelle held out her hand. “Let me see it. Now.”
“I haven’t seen this controlling side of you before. It’s cute.”
“It only comes out when I see blood.”
“Ooh. So you’re part vampire?”
She grabbed hold of his wrist and pulled his hand close to examine the cut. “If I told you I’d have to kill you. And drink your blood.”
Adam laughed. “I’ve been warned.”
“Don’t get mouthy. I’ve trained for years to do this.” The cut was small, but she took him to the sink and made him wash his hands with soap, drying his finger with a paper towel. She then applied pressure for a minute or so. Standing so close to him, holding his hand, the inside of her arm flush with his, had her heart fluttering. His nearness seemed to affect her breathing and made her feel slightly weak and vibrantly alive at the same time. What was happening to her?
When she let go and checked the cut, she was relieved to see he wasn’t bleeding anymore.
“I told you. Just a nick.”
“Good to know your professional opinion.” She put some antibiotic ointment on the bandage and wrapped it around his finger.
When she looked up she realized how close he was. The warmth of his hand permeated her own, making her very aware of him.
“Thank you,” he said, his slightly husky voice making the hairs on the back of her neck rise.
She nodded. “You’re welcome.” She finally released his hand and stepped back.
“I’m going to go change my shirt before you go crazy over the bloodstains.” He winked at her. “Then I need to find some gloves so I can finish this,” he tilted his head toward the vegetables and headed out of the room.
She was finally able to breathe, and when the doorbell rang, she hurried out of the kitchen, glad for the excuse to collect herself. She answered the door without checking through the peephole and immediately regretted her lack of caution. Mrs. Gilroy stood there, a large smile on her face, with a possessive hand on the arm of the gorgeous woman standing beside her. Tall, brunette, and beautiful, she wore a knockout red summer dress, trendy platform sandals, and lots of bling. The woman looked as if she
’d just stepped out of a magazine.
“Oh, good, you’re home,” said Mrs. Gilroy.
“Yes.”
“Actually, I already knew that.” She grinned sheepishly. “I saw the two of you bringing in groceries. I wanted to introduce you to my niece on my husband’s side.” She gestured to the tall brunette beside her. The girl was drop-dead gorgeous, glossy, and fit. As a former beauty queen, Isabelle felt frumpy in comparison.
“Isabelle, this is Caitlyn Gilroy.” Mrs. Gilroy wrinkled her nose. “Naturally she returned to her maiden name after the divorce. And Caitlyn, this is Isabelle…I’m sorry, dear, I don’t remember your last name.”
“Kenna. Isabelle Kenna.” She held out a hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Caitlyn.”
Caitlyn’s cool, well-manicured hand slid into Isabelle’s and shook once before dropping limply. “And you, as well. My aunt tells me you’ve just moved in recently?”
“I did.”
“Welcome to the neighborhood.” Caitlyn’s smile flashed perfect and white, completing the poised and polished package. But the tone of voice was icy cold. Was it her imagination, or was the welcome to the neighborhood comment meant to put her in her place? That of interloper. When she’d been in the beauty pageant years before, she’d run into a lot of perfect faces and had learned to guard her back, so it was possible she was just imagining the slight, based on past experience.
“Thank you.” Common courtesy and Mrs. Gilroy’s raised eyebrows demanded she invite the ladies inside, but it wasn’t her house and she knew Adam wouldn’t thank her. He’d particularly named these two as the people he hoped Isabelle’s presence would dissuade. So she opted for rudeness and continued to block the door.
Mrs. Gilroy looked into Adam’s home. “So…will you be here long?”
That was exactly none of their business. “What do you mean?”
“Oh, I was just wondering if you and Adam are a couple, or what exactly?”
Isabelle raised a brow, no longer concerned about her own rudeness. “For the foreseeable future.”
“Oh,” said Mrs. Gilroy. “I never did find out how the two of you met?”
“I’m a nurse at the hospital he frequents.”
Mrs. Gilroy tsked. “It’s such a shame the way his face was ruined.”
“What do you mean?”
“Ah, well, the scars,” Mrs Gilroy waved a hand in front of her own face. “You know.”
Caitlyn smiled at her aunt. “I don’t mind the scars.”
Mrs. Gilroy beamed. “You wouldn’t, would you? You’re such a kindhearted girl. What about you, Isabelle? Do you mind?”
“I’m much more concerned about the pain his knee gives him than any superficial scars on his face.”
Caitlyn’s eyes narrowed. “Very commendable. Do you meet a lot of men at the hospital?”
“Every day.”
Caitlyn laughed. “Maybe I should have been a nurse! I understand a lot of men fall under the spell of their nurses. It’s called the Nightingale Syndrome, isn’t it?”
Isabelle would like to give her the benefit of the doubt, but that felt like a definite stab. “It’s not too late. You’re still fairly young. It only takes about four years of hard work and then you, too, can meet all the men you like.”
Caitlyn’s lips narrowed to match her eyes. “I also heard it’s short-lived. Relationships developed under adverse conditions never really last.”
A definite stab. “Really?”
“Don’t nurses have a high rate of divorce?”
“You’re thinking doctors.”
Mrs. Gilroy glanced back and forth between the two of them. “Yes, well, I’m not sure if you know it or not, but my niece used to date Adam.”
Isabelle looked at Caitlyn. “Really? What happened?”
Mrs. Gilroy smiled at her niece. “Unfortunately, she had to go home to deal with matters there. But she’s back now and, of course, she was very surprised to find you living here.”
“Very surprised,” said Caitlyn.
This was getting bizarre. Isabelle surveyed the two of them, not sure what to say. It sounded as if Caitlyn was declaring her desire to get Adam back, and Isabelle’s protective instincts rose. With these pushy women living next door, no wonder Adam jumped at the chance to use Isabelle as a shield. She decided she’d had enough. “Adam’s probably waiting for me and, since we’re wildly in love and all, I’d better get going. Thanks for stopping by.”
“Oh, wait,” said Mrs. Gilroy. “I completely forgot to tell you why we came over. I was hoping to borrow a cup of sugar.”
“Oh?” Isabelle stalled. “What are you making?”
“A cake to celebrate Caitlyn’s visit for the summer.”
The whole summer? Isabelle couldn’t think of a graceful way to turn the ladies down, but no way was she letting them inside. “Sorry, we’re out.” She could feel her face burn and cursed her light skin.
“Out of sugar?”
“Yes. Same as you. I have to watch my figure if I want to keep Adam under my spell. If I have any sugar in the house I make buttered cinnamon-sugar toast. So I had to throw it all out and buy capers instead.”
“Capers?”
“Yes, but I only have the one jar, so…” Feeling like a fool, she lifted a shoulder.
The two ladies stared at her. Wide-eyed, Isabelle stared back.
“Er…yes…” Mrs. Gilroy raised her brows at her niece.
“Again, thanks for stopping by.” This time Isabelle didn’t give them the chance to protest, but simply shut and locked the door. Sugar, indeed. She walked toward the kitchen only to see Adam hiding behind the wall.
She quickly scanned back through the conversation, thought about being embarrassed, but changed her mind. It wasn’t her fault his neighbors were piranhas.
“We’re wildly in love and I’m under your spell?”
She grinned at him. “Only so long as I keep sugar out of the house, you coward.”
He laughed. “There’s a difference between self-preservation and cowardice.”
“Says you.”
Adam's eyes were gleaming. “Still, I’m flattered that you’re so wildly in love with me.”
“I…I…didn’t mean it,” she stammered. “They just made me feel….”
“Protective?” He stalked toward her.
She grabbed a towel and started wiping at the countertop, moving away from him. “Maybe a little.”
“That's why I'm flattered. You're very protective of others, aren't you? Your father, your sister. Now me. I find I like being included in your inner circle. I like it a lot.”
She finally held her ground, placed a hand on her hip, and lifted her chin. “Well, you are under my spell and all so…” She shrugged.
He stopped in front of her, his gaze dropping to her mouth.
She took a breath.
He did, too, then shut his eyes briefly, swung away, and opened a cupboard. “Be that as it may, it’s time for your first cooking lesson.” He pulled out a glass jar. “What do you think? Something with capers?”
She was still smiling when they got to work.
~~~
An hour later, Adam served dinner on china plates and Isabelle carried them outside to the patio where she set them on the decorated table. She stood back and studied the white tablecloth and the place settings complete with wine glasses, silverware, and professionally folded red napkins. The latter was thanks to a stint at a restaurant in San Diego while Isabelle attended college. A vase with the rose Adam bought earlier served as the centerpiece.
Perfect.
Adam followed a moment later with the fresh-squeezed pitcher of several kinds of fruit juice, mixed with a packet of flavoring, a recipe he claimed to have copied off the food network. She shook her head. The man was a walking contradiction. Jeweler, amateur chef, Marine. He set the pitcher down and stood back.
“Pretty, right?” she asked.
His mouth curved. “It looks great. Let’s eat.”
<
br /> After they’d settled, Adam watched her take the first bite. “Good?”
She nodded. “It’s delicious. Halibut?”
“With lemon, butter, capers, and dill sauce. The noodles are fettuccine, but you could use any kind you like.”
She took another bite. “It’s really good. These green things are the capers?”
“Yes.”
“They look like peas, but they sort of taste like green olives.”
“They’re actually edible flower buds, but they’re pickled, so that’s what you’re tasting. If you don’t like the flavor, just pick them off.”
“I do like it. I like the whole dish. Of course, it’s not quite as good as say, hot dogs and tater tots, but it’s still good.”
He laughed. “So you’re a girl of simple tastes?”
“Pretty much,” she gestured with her fork toward the food. “But I’m willing to be corrupted.”
He winked at her. “That works out well for me. So, I was wondering if I could get your phone number?”
Isabelle couldn’t help it, she laughed.
His brow rose. “That’s funny?”
“I’m living in your house, eating your food, being your fake girlfriend, and you don’t have my phone number?”
“I will if you give it to me.”
She smiled. “What makes you think I won't give you a fake number?”
“I'll give you mine if you'll give me yours.”
“Is it just me, or does that sound naughty?”
“It’s just you. Anyway, you might need to contact me and you’ll need my number.”
“I could always get it off your file at the hospital.”
“Izzy. The number. Now.”
She laughed, then gave him her number.
He entered it into his phone and then glanced up, his eyes narrowing. He held up his phone, thumb hovering over a button. “I’m calling this so I can make sure it’s not a Chinese take-out place or something. So, if you want to change the number, now’s the time.”
She arched a brow, but didn’t comment.
He hit dial and a moment later they could both hear ringing through the kitchen window.