On Lavender Lane

by JoAnn Ross

  “Aren’t they incredible?” she breathed.

  “Incredible.” The rough, deep tone drew her attention. and when she glanced up at him, he wasn’t looking out at the huge sea mammals cutting a determined swath through the waves, but down at her.

  “This isn’t what I came here for.”

  He arched a brow. “Did I say anything?”

  “You didn’t have to.” The way his eyes had darkened told her exactly what he was thinking. And, as remembered awareness hummed between them, he was not alone.

  “But you can’t blame me for finding them incredible,” he said.

  Her foolish, rebellious heart had begun fluttering like a wild bird. “The whales?”

  “They’re cool. But I was referring to your eyes.” He cupped her check. “I’d almost managed to convince myself over the years that I’d imagined how remarkable they are. But I didn’t. They’re never the same color.”

  “Of course they are.” She swallowed. Licked her lips and realized her mistake when hunger flashed in his watchful, espresso-hued gaze. “They’re gray.” Which, unlike both her mother and grandmother, who had flashing, dark eyes, she’d always considered a boring, indistinct hue.

  “Technically, perhaps.” His enticing touch trailed down her cheek and brushed over lips that had turned as dry as a boxed mix pound cake. “But they’re as changeable as the sea. Yesterday, in Sofia’s kitchen, they looked like storm clouds.

  “Then earlier, on the beach, I decided they were more pewter.” His mouth was a whisper from hers. “And now they’ve turned the hue of polished silver.”

  “Good try.” Because his touch was leaving sparks on her lips, she backed away. “But if you brought me up here because you had the crazy idea that you could just sweet-talk me into forgiving you, Lucas, you’d be wrong.”

  She’d loved him, dammit. Blindly, with every fiber of her foolish, eighteen-year-old being. He’d been the first man to whom she’d ever given her heart so fully. Correction, she realized now, as she fought a temper she hadn’t felt toward her cheating, lying husband. Not the first, but the only one.

  Maxime had been right about her having loved the idea of being married to him. Of sharing a culinary life together, the same way her parents had for so many years. But dazzled by his charisma and talent, she’d mistaken awe for love.

  Which was undoubtedly why she was feeling more regret than remorse over the crumbling of a marriage that probably should have been declared DOA at the altar.

  “Although the idea of making up in bed is, admittedly, appealing,” Lucas said, “I brought you up here to tell you that I never slept with Ashleigh.”

  “If that’s true, and I have only your word for it, then it’s only because I interrupted things by showing up unannounced.”

  Since his father had been spending the night in Portland, she’d taken advantage of Lucas having the cottage to himself and had brought the ingredients to cook him dinner. Along with flowers from Sofia’s cutting garden and candles to set a romantic mood.

  “She didn’t come here for sex. She was a friend who was doing me a favor.”

  “I might have been stupid, but I wasn’t blind. I could tell that much for myself.” Admittedly, although they’d been twined up like a pair of octopi on the couch, they’d both been fully dressed. But that was undoubtedly only because she’d arrived before things had had a chance to really heat up.

  “I needed you to think I was cheating.”

  “What?” A temper she’d never known bubbled up inside her. A hot, poisonous stew of emotions. “Why?”

  “It was for your own good.”

  “How was breaking my heart for my own good?” A heart that was currently lodged in her throat.

  “You went to Europe,” he reminded her.

  “Because you broke my heart,” she repeated furiously. It still stung.

  “Do you have any idea what it did to me to hear you announce that you’d decided to stay here in Shelter Bay instead of following your dream? That you didn’t need to travel the world to learn how to cook? That Sofia could teach you everything you needed? I couldn’t let you pass up that opportunity. Not for me.”

  Surely he couldn’t have…

  Baffled, and needing a moment before she could trust her voice, Madeline stared up at him.

  The room was suddenly dead silent. There was only the sound of the wind moaning in the top of the Douglas fir trees that surrounded the cottage on three sides, and the rain, which had turned into a full-fledged storm, hitting the glass wall.

  She finally found her voice. “Are you actually saying that you staged that whole horrid scene so I’d get upset and storm off to Europe?”

  But she hadn’t stormed. She’d fled. With her bleeding heart in tatters.

  “You’d been planning that trip for years,” he reminded her. “You had your passport, you’d hooked up with some of your parents’ chef friends, you were on your way to becoming the person you are today. The gorgeous celebrity chef on my TV.”

  “Liar. I’m not gorgeous.”

  At this point she undoubtedly looked like a drenched, dark-haired Little Orphan Annie. She could feel her hair springing into a mass of wild, frizzy, wet curls; she wasn’t wearing a smidgen of makeup; she was wearing jeans and an oversized sweatshirt with embossed puffins on the front that she’d borrowed from Sofia; and she needed to lose ten—okay, make that fifteen—pounds. Which didn’t help when the television cameras added even more.

  “If you actually believe that, then you need to get a new mirror,” he said.

  It was ridiculous to receive pleasure from a glib compliment that undoubtedly worked with females from eight to eighty. Ridiculous, foolish, and dangerous. She’d also let him distract her from her point.

  “I’m also not a celebrity.”

  It was the same thing she’d told Birdy. But now Madeline was forced to wonder exactly how far her life had gone off track. And which of them she was trying to convince. She’d never wanted to be a celebrity. All she’d ever wanted to do was to cook. To share her food with others for love. Not fame or fortune.

  “Try telling that to your fans. And those groups that get together around the country every Thursday night to cook dinner along with your show.”

  She moved closer. Until they were toe-to-toe, which forced her to tilt her head back to look up at him. “How did you know about that?”

  “I Googled you. Because,” he said, holding up a hand to forestall whatever she’d been about to say, “although I never realized it until I heard you were coming back to town, I guess I’m a glutton for punishment.”

  “Then you should absolutely love this.”

  Although she knew it was a cliché, and although she’d never, ever hit anyone in her life before, she slapped him. Hard.

  The sound, as sharp and loud as a rifle retort, had Scout, who’d been happily curled up on an overstuffed sofa, diving beneath the table.

  “Oh, hell,” Lucas muttered. He did not, she noticed, even touch his reddening cheek. “Could we just take a time-out for a minute?”

  21

  Knowing pretty much what the dog was going through, Lucas crouched down and stuck his hand, palm up, beneath the table.

  “That’s okay, pretty girl,” he soothed, in much the same way he might talk to a woman he was trying to seduce. “There’s no shooting, darlin’. And no one’s going to hurt you.”

  The dog was cowering as if a horde of terrorists were about to storm down on her.

  “Oh, God. I’m so sorry.” Maddy dropped to her knees beside him.

  “She’ll be okay.” He glanced back over his shoulder toward the kitchen on the other side of the large room. “There’s a carton of jambalaya in the fridge. Maybe you could get her a piece of shrimp. That usually works.”

  “I feel like the worst person in the world,” she muttered as she got to her feet and retrieved the snack.

  “It’s no big deal. You should’ve seen her the other day when a car backfired whi
le we were driving into town. I had to stop by the Cracked Crab and order a fried-fish sandwich from the drive-through to coax her out from beneath the seat.”

  “That’s so sad.” She was back on her knees again, so close he could smell the vague scent of coconut shampoo in her hair.

  “Like I said, she’s making progress. Why don’t you try giving it to her? Not with your fingers. Put it on your palm. It’s less threatening that way.”

  “Shouldn’t you do it? I’m the one who terrified her.”

  “Don’t worry. If we’re going to be working together, it’s good that she gets to know you. Besides, unlike people, dogs don’t hold grudges.”

  “That’s all your fault.” Her tone, probably in deference to the dog, was softer than her accusation. “What was I supposed to think when I saw you tangled up with another woman?”

  “Like I said. Exactly what I wanted you to.”

  “Good doggy,” she soothed when the dog whimpered, seeming, despite them speaking quietly, to sense their argument. “Good, Scout…And you”—she shot him a blistering look—“were an idiot.”

  “On that we can agree. My only defense,” Lucas said, as Scout snatched the pink shrimp from her hand, then licked Maddy’s palm with a swipe of her long pink tongue, “is that I was twenty years old, with not a single clue about what I was going to do with my life, while you, despite being two years younger, already had everything all figured out.”

  She slanted him a hard look. “So you decided to take any decisions regarding my own life away from me.” A black nose inched its way from beneath the wood planks.

  “Not any decision. Just the important one you were about to blow. Dammit, I was trying to do the right thing. I just went about it the wrong way.”

  Hell. His rough, frustrated tone sent the nose back beneath the table again. Lucas dragged both hands down his face and struggled for control. How was it that he could keep his head in the middle of a violent battle, but he couldn’t get through a conversation with this woman without wanting to bang his head against the rocky cliff?

  “Look. I loved you, okay?” he said through gritted teeth, struggling against a teeming flood of guilt and frustration. “Enough to know that someday down the line, if I let you give up your dream for me, you’d end up resenting me. And I wasn’t willing to risk that. For your sake or for mine. Because it never would’ve worked out.”

  “Well, we’ll never know, will we?” She kept her tone quiet, in deference to the dog. But her voice wavered, either from a need to weep or shout. Lucas couldn’t tell which, but neither one was good.

  The dog’s dark nose came out again, followed by the rest of her head. When Madeline patted it, Lucas covered her hand with his.

  He felt her tense, but she didn’t pull away. Lucas decided that once Scout did come out, he was going to get the dog the biggest, juiciest bone in town.

  “If you told me this to get on my good side, thinking I’d consider you some sort of noble, self-sacrificing, romance-novel hero—”

  “No.”

  As ridiculous as it was, Lucas was suddenly feeling twenty again. He was not inexperienced with women. On the contrary, he’d always liked them. And respected them. And when things ended, as they invariably did, he and the women would stay friends.

  Except for the one time it had really mattered.

  “I told you, and not in the way I’d planned, because I wanted you to know why I did what I did back then. Even if you hate me for it.”

  “That’s a bit strong.” Scout was scooting forward on her belly, inch by inch, reminding Lucas of how he and his team had often been forced to make their way down to a Taliban stronghold under the cover of darkness. “I tend to save hate for really bad things. Like child abusers and people who drown puppies and kittens.”

  Encouraged since he’d come this far, Lucas decided just to go for it and tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. “I also told you what I’d done because I’m still crazy about you and have every intention of marrying you.”

  “I see.” Her cool tone was not encouraging, but Lucas had overcome tougher challenges. “Interesting how you’ve maintained the same bad habits. Once again, you’re leaving me nothing to say about my own life.”

  Damn. When she was right, she was right. But still…

  Apparently sensing the lessening of hostilities, Scout wiggled the rest of her way from beneath the table. Then immediately rolled over, offering her stomach to be rubbed.

  Apparently still trying to make amends, which was so not necessary, since, as he’d told her, the dog didn’t hold grudges, Maddy obliged.

  “I understand you need time to process all this.” Lucas cupped her too-stubborn chin in his fingers and turned her face to his. “But while you’re thinking about it, know this: Whatever you’ve thought of me over the years, whatever you think about me now, the fact is that I love you, Maddy. And although I tried like hell to forget you these past ten years, I always will.”

  “In case it’s slipped your mind, I’m a married woman.”

  “Are you going back to your husband?”

  “No.” He saw the truth of that declaration in her eyes, which had turned from the stormy gray of temper to a calmer, more deliberative hue. Yep. Although Lucas wished he could have protected her from the pain she must have suffered, he didn’t mind that that Frenchy was toast. “Not in this lifetime.”

  “Well, then.” He leaned forward and brushed his lips against hers before she could read his intention and pull back. “I’m willing to wait for you to realize you still love me back.”

  “What if I don’t believe in love anymore?”

  “I’ll just have to change your mind.”

  She stiffened. He could feel the chill. “You think it’s going to be that easy?”

  “We SEALs have a saying: ‘The only easy day was yesterday.’ ”

  “Just because I’m divorcing Maxime doesn’t mean I’m going to jump out of the sauté pan into the fire and marry you.”

  “Okay.” He linked their fingers together. “I’ll settle for a series of one-night stands.”

  “That’s an oxymoron. A series signifies more than a single encounter.”

  When she went to pull her hand away, he lifted it to his lips and brushed a kiss over her knuckles. “Not if you take it one night at a time. Then a next night, and a next—”

  “Then it’s still no longer a one-night stand. It’s an affair.”

  “Which I’ll take.”

  “Why am I not surprised?” She lifted a brow. “Whatever happened to marriage?”

  “Oh, that’s still on the drawing board. I just figured with all you have on your plate right now, it might be less threatening to you to think of using me merely for sex.”

  “I don’t want you to love me.”

  “Too bad.” He wanted—intended—to have this woman back not only in his bed, but in his life. Whatever it took. “And too late, because that ship sailed a long time ago.…Look, you don’t have to say anything now, Maddy. But since I admittedly screwed up by lying to you ten years ago, I decided to be up front about my feelings and my intentions this time around.”

  “Read my lips. Not only am I am not going to marry you, but this partnership, or whatever it is that we’ve been forced into for Gram’s sake, is going to remain strictly business. No way I’m allowing it to get personal.”

  “Again, too late. Because it got personal a long time ago, Maddy.” Concentrating on the positive, Lucas decided that this was an improvement over her looking as if she wanted to fillet him, tie him to a cedar plank, then grill him over hot coals.

  “You’ve just made my point. That was a very long time ago. We’re both different people. And I’ve no intention of going back.”

  “That’s what you say now. But here’s the deal: We were friends before we were lovers, so I’m willing to start with that. Plus, you’re right. We’ve both changed. I’m a lot more patient than I was back then.” While impulsive, ov
er-the-top behavior made for some really nifty war movies, Lucas had learned as early as BUD/S training that in real life it could land you in hot water. Really fast. “I’m willing to give you time to get used to the idea.”

  “That’s not going to happen.” Now that Scout was out from under the table and back to happily chewing on a plush octopus Charity had sent home with the dog, Maddy scrambled to her feet.

  “Never say never,” he replied mildly, as he stood up, as well.

  “We’re never going to be able to work together if you insist on making things personal.”

  He lifted his hands, palms out. “Okay.” He hissed out a breath. Patience, he reminded himself yet again, was reputed to be a virtue. “Since I agree we’re going to need to be grown-ups this time around, I’m willing to keep things totally professional while we’re working together.”

  “Good.”

  “However, if you decide to change things up after hours, I won’t complain.”

  “Don’t hold your breath.” Her eyes locked on his. “As for your crazy marriage idea, for the last time, that’s not going to happen. No way. No how.”

  Because he was in a really good mood for the first time since getting the call about his father, Lucas laughed. Then, because it had been too long since he’d touched her, he skimmed a finger down the slope of her nose.

  “One word of advice,” he said. “I wouldn’t bet your grandmother’s farm on that, darlin’.”

  22

  Sofia was bustling around in the kitchen when Maddy returned to the farmhouse.

  “How was your time at the beach?” she asked, greeting Maddy with a hug.

  “Wet. But successful.” She put the bucket of clams she’d dug onto the counter by the sink. “I’d forgotten how good being on the beach is for clearing your mind. I came up with a recipe for clams Kokkinisto I want to try.”