by JoAnn Ross
Of all the kitchens in all the world, Lucas Chaffee had to walk into hers? Well, it wasn’t technically hers. But she certainly had more claim to it than he did.
Just the thought of his strolling into the house, as if he had every right to be there, caused myriad emotions to flood through Madeline.
Pain. Fury. Misery. Then, saving her just in time, before she’d done something really, really stupid, his comment about braising short ribs had brought back yesterday’s humiliation and had her swinging back to fury. True, her anger had been directed much more toward Maxime than Lucas, but it had allowed her to escape the situation.
Even as she’d wanted to run away, to get as far away from him as fast as she could, she’d managed to wrap herself in a mantle of dignity and walked out of the kitchen just as she’d walked away from Maxime.
And while it took all her self-restraint, which was hanging by a single, tattered thread after the past two days, she didn’t give in to the impulse to slam the door behind her.
She’d tried to convince herself that she’d gotten over Lucas Chaffee. That he’d been nothing more than a teenage romance gone bad. Besides, so much had changed in her life during their years apart.
Unfortunately, not everything.
She never could have expected that rush of emotion when she’d turned around and saw him standing there, looking good enough to scoop up with a spoon.
“It’s only because you’re vulnerable right now,” she assured herself as she went through the dresser drawer, coming up with a T-shirt and a pair of jeans she’d left here the last time she’d visited and had planned to return home soon.
That had been, what? Three years ago, for her grandfather’s funeral.
Too long. Sofia was the only family she had left. And family deserved better. Oh, sure, she’d been insanely busy, trying to keep all her plates spinning. But that wasn’t any excuse. Not when she considered that her grandmother hadn’t exactly been living an idle life when she’d rushed off to Italy to comfort Madeline and bring her here to Shelter Bay.
A person didn’t just decide to gut their kitchen and open a restaurant on a whim. So logic told Madeline that her grandmother had been thinking about this plan for some time.
“And I had to hear about it from Lucas Chaffee, of all people?”
She twisted on the shower with more force than necessary, then stood beneath the water, scrubbing away the travel grime. She was not nearly as successful at washing away the memory of the first time she and Lucas had made love.
She’d been a virgin, but not exactly by choice; she’d tried, with every teenage feminine wile she possessed, to seduce him for weeks.
“I don’t understand,” she’d complained as they lay together on a sleeping bag in their secret hidden cave beside the sea. He’d kissed her nearly to oblivion, and touched her in places that always tingled for hours after they’d been together this way, yet once again, he was somehow managing to pull back. “I turned eighteen today. So we’re both adults. If you want me, and I want you—”
“It’s not about want, dammit,” he’d said with what she remembered to be frustration. “ Want is easy, Maddy. Too easy.”
“Perhaps it’s easy for you.” She’d lifted her chin as a tear escaped to trail down her cheek. “But not for me.” She’d had her entire life planned. She was on her way to Europe to learn from the best. She certainly hadn’t planned to fall in love. And definitely not with a summer boy, who was probably only interested in a vacation fling.
“No.” He’d sighed as he’d cupped her face in his hand. “Not for you.”
His expression, visible in the dark as the lighthouse flashed its warning to ships at sea, was as serious as she’d ever seen it.
“Oh, hell.” His smile was a ghost of its usual laughing one. Later, when everything had gone so terribly wrong, she would remember that it hadn’t reached his eyes. “I give up.”
She’d flung her arms around his neck. Pressed her mouth to his and her body against his lean, muscled strength.
When she would have rushed to satisfy the hunger that had been building for days, he slowed the pace, kissing her gently, patiently. And even as he deepened the kiss, his lips remained as soft as sea mist.
Her thoughts, her body, her entire world had compressed to nothing but shimmering sensations. She was oh, so vividly aware of his sweep of his tongue against the seam of her lips, the hypnotizing touch of his hands stroking up and down her back, the glorious feel of his body responding to hers.
The heavenly kiss went on and on and on. Warmth flowed through her veins, causing her body to melt like dark chocolate left out in a hot summer sun.
“You’re incredible.”
“I’m not skinny enough.” Although she’d already bared her breasts to him and was the one who’d been pushing for this moment, now that it had finally come, Madeline was worried that he’d find her body too round. Too soft.
“Who wants skinny? You have curves.” His lips skimmed down her side, dipping in at her waist, then following the flare of her hip down to her thigh. “Which are much sexier.” He nipped at the back of her knee, causing a jolt of heat. “And hot.” He continued to leave a trail of sparks down to her ankle and back up again.
She couldn’t believe his control. Whenever their lovemaking drifted too far from pleasure to passion, he denied his own hunger, as if determined, after all these weeks of waiting, to make their first time together—her first time ever—last.
“You’re so incredible.” His lips returned to linger at her earlobe. Her throat. “I’ve imagined you like this since I first walked into Sofia’s kitchen for basil.”
“I know.”
And it had been driving her crazy.
The laugh that escaped against her shoulder was harsh and rough with need. “Sweetheart, you can’t even begin to know some of the things I’ve imagined.”
The dark, dangerous gleam in his eyes had the blood roaring in her head.
“Then show me.” Breathless, no longer concerned about her weight or her nudity, she rolled over and straddled him. “Everything.”
And he had. Because just the memory of that first time and all the summer days and nights that followed caused her blood to flow hotter in her veins, Madeline turned the faucet to cold.
“Thanks a bunch, Gram,” she muttered between gritted teeth as the icy water streamed over her. “If I didn’t need more complications in my life, you have to throw that man into the mix.”
“Of course,” she assured herself as she rubbed the lavender-scented towel over her body, “it’s not as if I don’t have a say in the matter.”
Lucas couldn’t become a complication unless she let him.
“Which so isn’t going to happen,” she vowed. He was part of her past, not the present.
By the time she’d dried her hair and dressed, Madeline had managed to convince herself that she was no longer that love-struck teenager she’d once been.
She was, after all, a grown woman who many people would consider a success.
“Some might say I’m even a celebrity,” she said to Winnie, who’d come up to the bedroom.
She could handle one former Navy SEAL–turned–remodeling contractor.
“Piece of cake.”
Her resolve strengthened, she went back downstairs, only to find the kitchen empty and the red pickup that had been parked in the driveway gone.
14
During his summers in Shelter Bay, Lucas had spent a lot of time hanging out at Bon Temps, the Douchett family’s Cajun restaurant and dance hall.
From what Sax had told him, the place had been hit hard by a vicious winter ice storm a few years ago, then given a knockout blow when hurricane-force winds triggered by a Pacific typhoon had come blowing through.
Which was when Maureen and Lucien, Sax’s parents, decided to retire. A plan that had lasted about six months. Now they were happily running a bait shop on the harbor, while his old teammate had restored the place, giving, as Sax h
ad told Lucas, “a chance for people to eat themselves a good meal, kick up their heels, and pass a good time.”
The place had changed during the time Lucas been away. The rough wood tables and benches that had brought to mind an old Cajun cabin had been replaced with gold, purple, and green Mardi Gras masks hanging on walls the color of Tabasco sauce. Beads in those same colors had been strung from the light fixtures.
He arrived during a lull between the lunch and dinner crowds, and caught Sax taking inventory at the bar.
“I’ll have a Doryman’s Dark Ale, barkeep,” Lucas said as he sat down at the bar.
“Good choice.” Sax reached into a cooler beneath the bar and pulled out the dark brown bottle with the blue pelican outline on the front. “You want your dinner to go or to eat here?”
“I’m getting too damn predictable,” Lucas muttered.
“You’re not going to hear any complaints from me.” Sax pushed a bowl of spiced nuts in front of him. “Kara and I figure that now that you’re going to be sticking around to remodel Sofia De Luca’s farmhouse, Trey’s college is pretty much paid for.”
“Ha-ha.” Lucas took a long pull on the bottle. After all they’d been through together, he and Sax tended to think a lot alike. “Coincidentally, I told Maddy the same thing less than thirty minutes ago.”
“How’s she doing?”
“She looked tired. But I think she’s hanging in there.”
“She was always a trooper. Even when she first came to town after her parents died in that plane crash. So, you want a menu? Or do you have it memorized by now?”
“I’ll have the fish and chips. With your grandmother’s comeback sauce.”
“Yet another good choice. You’re on a roll. Cole came in this afternoon with some black rockfish so fresh it practically jumped from his boat into my kitchen. Want me to put the order in now?”
“Sounds good.”
He went back through the swinging doors into the kitchen. He’d told Lucas that when he’d first opened the place, he’d done all the cooking himself. But business had taken off, allowing him to hire a former line cook from a seafood place in the Willamette Valley. So now he mostly handled the bar menu.
It was strange thinking of Sax settled down with a fiancée, a son he was in the process of adopting, and a thriving business. Strange, but Lucas was happy for him. After all he’d been through, he deserved the good life. Which he seemed to have made for himself.
“Funny that you’d come back here,” he said when Sax returned. “I seem to remember you always saying how much you wanted to escape.”
“Yeah.” His former teammate shrugged and began wiping the bar with a white towel. “Sometimes when you’re a kid, you’re too stupid to appreciate stuff the way you do when you get older.” He looked up at Lucas. “Speaking of stupid, are you planning to tell Maddy the truth? About what happened back then?”
“I don’t have a clue.” Lucas traced a trail of moisture down the side of the bottle with a fingertip. “I suppose I’m going to have to.”
“I guess that depends on whether you want her to continue to think you’re the worst guy on the planet.”
“There’s a complication.”
“Yeah. I heard about the video. Bad timing for you, bro.”
“Maybe. But if the Frenchman hadn’t gotten caught with his pants down, she wouldn’t be back here.”
“Which you’re happy about?”
“I’m not happy she’s hurt.” He took another long drink of the ale. “But I can’t deny that having a second chance is appealing.”
Since the situation was complicated and he needed time to come up with a battle plan, Lucas didn’t add that all it had taken was one look for him to realize that while many things had changed, he was still as crazy in love with Maddy as he’d been when he was twenty.
“You talked about her that night,” Sax remembered. “Up on the mountain.”
When so many of them had died. And it looked as if Sax, Lucas, and the other team members were going to be joining them. When you’re staring death in the face, you tend to open up about things you’d never talk about otherwise.
“Yeah.” It was when he’d admitted what he’d done. When everyone in that bunker had called him an idiot. Something he’d already figured out for himself.
“Anything about your feelings change since then?”
“I can’t believe it.” He dodged the question. “The Saxman talking about feelings?”
“Hey.” Sax shrugged. “What can I say? When you fall off the deep end into love, you tend to discover your inner feminine side.”
“God help us all.” Sax Douchett was probably the least of all the SEALs and Marines Lucas had teamed up with over the years he would have suspected to even have a feminine side. “If you’re turning all Dr. Phil, there’s no hope for the rest of us.”
Sax’s answering grin was quick and wicked and reassuringly familiar. “Don’t worry. I was just pulling your chain. And you didn’t answer my question.”
While Lucas would never claim to be an expert on the subject of women, having screwed up so royally the first time, he decided to err on the side of caution this time and keep his feelings to himself. For now.
“We’re men,” he said. “Hell, not just ordinary civilian types. We’re SEALs. The effing alpha dogs of the military. Are we even supposed to be talking about this touchy-feely stuff?”
“Former SEALs,” Sax pointed out. “I’ve put all that behind me. And, believe me, there’s a lot to be said for civilian life. Including having hot sex with a willing woman on a regular basis.”
“It’s not like Maddy’s the only woman on the planet.” And, although she had seemed tempted, he knew she was probably not all that willing. Lucas had been on missions that seemed easier to accomplish than winning her back.
“True enough. There’s this cupcake baker—”
“Not you, too.” Lucas’ mood lifted enough to laugh at that. “Charity invited me to dinner with her and her jarhead. She was planning to fix me up with that baker.”
“Sedona’s hot. And smart as a whip.” Sax looked around the restaurant with obvious pride. “She helped me get financing for this place.”
“You got financing from a woman who bakes cupcakes?”
“No. I got financial advice from a former CPA–turned-baker, who hooked me up with some money guys. But she’s definitely easy on the eyes. And damn nice, to boot.”
“Doesn’t exactly sound like the type of woman a guy just hooks up with for a quick, uncomplicated roll in the rack.”
It was Sax’s turn to laugh. “That’s the same thing I said when Cole suggested I take her out.”
He put the towel down, went into the kitchen, and brought out a platter piled high with deep-fried fish, beer fries, coleslaw, and two small bowls. One bowl held a tartar sauce; the other, Bon Temps’ signature comeback sauce, which Lucas had learned the hard way should carry a label warning about the dangers of setting your mouth on fire. It was also addictive—thus, he figured, its name.
“You know,” Sax said as Lucas bit into a fry. “I’m certainly not going to claim to be an expert on the female species—”
“This from a guy who had to use a spreadsheet to keep his women straight.”
Lucas took a longer pull on the beer bottle in an attempt to quench the flames from the sauce he’d dipped the French fry into. The smile teasing at the corners of Sax’s mouth told him that he was just waiting for Lucas to show any sign of weakness. Which, even as moisture welled behind his eyes, he refused to do.
“My reputation was highly exaggerated in those days.…My point is, I have learned women will forgive a lot. But they won’t forgive a lie.” Sax filled a glass of water from the bar hose and stuck it on the counter. “So, if you’re considering starting things up with Maddy again, my advice would be to come clean. As soon as possible.”
“I’ll consider it.” Even as he suspected Sax was right, Lucas also decided that he’d better m
ake sure Maddy wasn’t holding one of those deadly looking knives when he did confess.
15
As Madeline took a sunset walk through town, past the colorful wind socks flying above the storefronts, the tourists strolling along the seawall with their white bags of taffy and their ice cream cones, she could feel the stress of the past two days beginning to be blown away by the salt-tinged sea breeze.
She’d spent her first thirteen years in Italy and the next five here; then, after traveling the world learning her craft, she’d thought she’d settled down for good in New York City. But as she’d learned so many years ago, life could change in a heartbeat.
And now, as she watched the Shelter Bay lighthouse flashing its beacon to ships at sea, she realized that after leaving Umbria, Shelter Bay had always felt the most like home.
A feeling that intensified as she entered the farmhouse and smelled the familiar aroma of soup cooking on the stove.
“Maddy, darling,” her grandmother called from the kitchen. “Is that you?”
“If it isn’t, you could be in deep trouble,” Madeline chided her grandmother. “You really shouldn’t leave your door open to just anyone who might walk in.”
“Oh, no one ever locks their doors in Shelter Bay, darling. I’ve lived more than fifty years in this town and never worried about anyone breaking in.”
“Times change.” True, the coastal town wasn’t New York. But it also wasn’t the same as it was when Sofia had first arrived.
“Besides, I knew it was you,” she said as Madeline entered the kitchen. She was standing at the counter rolling out a pâte brisée dough. “I saw your rental car coming up the lane. How are you feeling?”
“Better. You were right about getting some sleep. And I took a long walk along the seawall.”
“Nothing like a nice nap followed by some fresh air to clear the mind,” Sofia agreed.
She turned the dough into a pie pan, then blended her premeasured marionberries, brown sugar, lemon juice, tapioca, flour, salt, and cinnamon together in a blue ceramic bowl that she’d had seemingly forever.