On Lavender Lane

by JoAnn Ross

“Lucky you,” McGrath said.

  “She’s a client,” Lucas said. His dad had taught him early not to kiss and tell, which he never had. Except that one time in that bunker, when they’d all been trying to take a dying battle buddy’s mind off his situation. A night Lucas would’ve bet serious money on that none of them would have survived.

  “I’d say, given the look on your face, that she’s a helluva lot more than that.”

  “We knew each other growing up. And yeah, we share a bit of a checkered past.”

  “Now, see, I’ve always been one of those glass-half-full guys,” the older man offered. “The way I figure it, any past, checkered or not, gives you an edge on your competition. Because you can skip past all that getting-to-know-you stuff. And work on any of the negative issues.”

  Lucas hadn’t, until this moment, considered having any competition. Other than the Frenchman who, obviously being an idiot, had put himself out of the picture. But Maddy was bright, gorgeous, and, he remembered, had always been well liked. It would be stupid to think that he’d be the only guy in town who’d notice that she was suddenly, conveniently, available.

  Which meant he was going to have to pick up his game. Patience was one thing. Stupidity another.

  45

  Just days ago Madeline had considered herself happily married. All right. Not happily. But she’d certainly been hoping things would turn around. Because, the same way she could salvage a cloudy consommé, she’d been certain she could repair her marriage.

  Wasn’t that why she’d been running like a dervish, taping those shows, demonstrating cookware all over the damn country, taking care of her husband’s books because he didn’t trust any accountant not to gossip about his precarious financial situation? She’d even continued to work the front of Maxime’s on Columbus many nights, whenever she had any time off.

  And look where that had gotten her.

  Having been brought up to believe that there was nothing she couldn’t accomplish, she’d refused to acknowledge what Maxime had always known. That their marriage, which he’d never sincerely wanted, had been on life support since the moment they’d exchanged vows. She had pushed him up that aisle to the altar, and then once they were husband and wife, while on some level she’d realized her mistake, she’d still kept trying to fix it.

  When had she stopped allowing herself to want something for herself? To be happy? To feel, as she did now, as if her heart, which had been dormant for so long, might just float all the way up there to where Lucas was framed by that broken window.

  Flynn McGrath didn’t look like a stockbroker. He was, Madeline thought, as Lucas introduced them, a dead ringer for Paul Newman. Not the younger one from Hud or The Long, Hot Summer, but the forty-year-old actor who’d proven he was still one of the sexiest men on the planet playing Cool Hand Luke and Butch Cassidy.

  He was tall, cowboy lean, and had blue eyes that blazed out of a deeply tanned face. But when he began talking about creating from reclaimed wood, his passion was contagious.

  “You’re absolutely right on the mark about using salvaged wood to fit into your restaurant theme of sustainability,” he said, when Madeline told him what she’d planned to do. “It’ll help establish your brand.”

  “Oh, please.” He might be sexy, but she’d hoped never to have to hear that word again.

  “You’re right. The term’s become a cliché, but it’s a necessity in this day and age,” he said. “More and more businesses, including restaurants, are using green as a marketing tool. Even ones who might only stick an LED lightbulb over their salad bar. Having tables from reclaimed trees would definitely not only make you stand out, it’ll put you at the forefront of your field.”

  “And get you some advertising in the meantime if the show gets on TV,” she said dryly. One thing life in New York and the restaurant business had taught her was that everyone had an angle.

  “To tell you the truth, we’ve got more business than my two partners and I can handle,” McGrath surprised her by saying. “If you decide you want to do business with us, we’d have to put off other spec jobs we’ve been saving some pieces for.”

  “Then why would you consider my restaurant in the first place?”

  “Because you’re right. Being on television wouldn’t hurt. Not because we need the business, but because featuring reclaimed wood on your show would help get the word out about tree salvage. These days most end up as mulch, if they’re lucky. The trees we deal with have lived long, productive lives in our own neighborhoods. They’ve shaded us, helped clean our air, given birds a home, provided oxygen for a planet, and just flat-out made us feel better by looking at them. They deserve to be respected. Reclamation provides that respect.”

  “Chefs are taught to respect the food we prepare,” she said, thinking how similar their work sounded.

  “There you go. We’ve tried to build a whole bouillabaisse of green values from using nontoxic, water-based wood finishes to offering the sawdust free to residents for mulch, and recycling all our paper and wood products.

  “We also always hang bare cedar boughs from our open ceiling trusses—which is something we’re going to have to work in,” he told Lucas. “There’s a local Native American belief that it cleanses any lingering negative energy from the lumber that enters. I figure that’s just one more bit of respect.”

  “I like that,” Madeline said. “Maybe we could incorporate it into beams in the restaurant.”

  “Works for me,” Lucas said.

  “Along with sharing values, there’s another reason I’d be willing to take your job on,” McGrath said.

  She crossed her arms. Here came the angle. “And that reason would be?”

  He flashed a bad-boy grin that was pure Newman at his best. “You’d be the prettiest client I’ve ever worked with.”

  “I merely inherited good genes,” she said. “Getting back to your trees…”

  He slanted Lucas a look. “Lady gets right down to business.”

  “Ms. Durand’s got a timeline thing going.”

  “Well, that might be a bit of a problem.” McGrath rubbed his jaw. “Working with wood isn’t like painting with oil or pretty watercolors. It’s an unforgiving medium. Being a force of nature, as it is, it can bring a lot of pitfalls with it.

  “It’s not just the different species. Every tree is different and it can take a while to find its soul.”

  Madeline suspected other people might find that idea a bit New Agey. Fortunately, she often felt the same way when it came to how to treat a particularly challenging yet irresistible fish one of her suppliers might surprise her with on any given morning.

  “Clients who are drawn to salvaged wood have to be adventurers,” McGrath said. “Because there’s definitely an element of risk. The negative part is that it can take time. The flipside is that you get to be part of the process. But you also have to be patient and trust that we know what we’re doing.”

  “I traveled through Europe by myself after graduating from high school,” Madeline said. “Although I grew up in a small village in Umbria and here in Shelter Bay, which isn’t exactly the most bustling place on the planet, I managed to make a career for myself in Manhattan. So although I might not be into extreme sports, I think you’ll find me adventurous enough. As for the patience, you’ve got me there. It’s honestly not my strong suit. So, how about we tackle the project in stages?” she suggested. “Maybe start out with something like a great bar. We’ll see how we work together and go from there.”

  “She’s not only gorgeous; she’s also smart,” he told Lucas.

  “You don’t have to convince me,” Lucas said.

  “You know, I’m not sure it’d make a good bar, but I’ve got this twenty-foot slab of red elm,” McGrath said. “We milled it with a Y at the top because of way the trunk split. It’d make a great focal point on an entry wall. If you don’t mind a huge gash and a burn trail from the lightning strike that killed it.”

  “Oh!” Madeline co
uld just imagine it. “That would give it even more character.”

  “Again, a woman after my own heart. If Chaffee here hadn’t already staked his claim, I might try my luck.”

  “I didn’t say anything about any claim,” Lucas interjected, holding up both hands in a plea of innocence. “Honest.”

  “That’s true enough,” the wood artisan agreed. “He didn’t use those exact words. But a smart man, and I like to think I am, knows enough to stay out of the way of a SEAL on a mission.”

  “Former SEAL,” Lucas muttered. “I saw the slab,” he told Madeline, obviously as eager as she was to keep this conversation on business. “It’s an amazing piece. The burn looks sort of like a bird. Maybe a heron. You can even see the tree rings on the edges.”

  “We call it a live edge,” McGrath said. “It celebrates the topography of the tree trunk and provides visual interest. We prefer to impose as little human interference in the design as possible.”

  “But I wouldn’t want to size it down,” Madeline considered the logistics.

  “Good. Because I wouldn’t size it down,” the other man said.

  “You’ve got room with that second story,” Lucas reminded her. “We could always raise the ceiling a bit higher and use heavy beams so it would stick with a farmhouse look and not appear too contemporary.”

  “I really do like that idea.”

  “We’ve also got some scrap pieces we were planning to recycle,” McGrath said. “I think we could work up some barstools, if you wouldn’t mind having mixed species.”

  “I’d love that even more.” This was getting more and more exciting. And to think that she wouldn’t have even known about Flynn McGrath if her grandmother hadn’t hired Lucas to do her remodel.

  “We’re in the process of moving our stock down here from Seattle,” he said. “Since we’re going to do this reconstruction in sections, we thought it only made sense to use some of the older sections for storage. I should have something for you to see in the next three to five days.”

  “That would be perfect.” She could feel herself beaming and realized how long it had been since she’d had anything to feel excited about.

  “Great. Here’s my card with my cell on it, which would probably be best because I’m between places right now. But I think we can work out some prices and pieces that work for both of us.”

  Lucas and Madeline stood side by side as he walked back to his truck, the wedge-heeled cowboy boots adding to his swagger.

  “I’ll bet he’d make a fortune in New York,” she murmured. “Women who like to think of themselves as the height of sophistication would be falling over themselves just to show him off, and pay big bucks for his furniture in their apartments.”

  “Money doesn’t seem to be that big a deal to him,” Lucas said. “So, you think he’s sexy?”

  “Absolutely. But that shouldn’t concern you. Since you’ve staked your claim.”

  Lucas cringed. “I honestly didn’t tell him that.”

  “But it’s true.”

  “I already told you I intend to marry you. So I guess, in that respect, it’s true. But, it’s not like you haven’t already done the same to me. You’re just not ready to admit it yet.…

  “However,” he said, reaching out to tuck a wayward curl behind her ear, “since you’re out here, want a tour? Or would you like to get down to work? Or, you know, it’s going to be a gorgeous evening. I’ve got Dad’s boat down here at the marina. We could go for a sail.”

  “Why?”

  “For fun. You do remember the concept, right?”

  “Not really. And we’re supposed to be working.”

  “We can work tomorrow. The sky’s clearing up in time for the sunset. We’ll pick up some crab and sail along the coastline, soaking up the sights.”

  It sounded heavenly. Also impossible.

  “We have work to do.”

  “We’ll get an early start tomorrow. Clearing your mind will be good for your creativity.”

  “It’s admittedly appealing.”

  “Better than appealing. I know this hidden inlet. We could anchor there, eat some crab, drink some wine, swim naked—”

  “It’s spring. We’d freeze.”

  “Nah.” His hands moved over her shoulders and down her arms. “I’ll keep you plenty warm enough.” His lips skimmed down her neck.

  Of that she had not a single doubt. Just his touch was already beginning to make her feel hot. And needy.

  “I have responsibilities.”

  “Screw them.” The temptation rumbled in her ear. “How long has it been since your life wasn’t centered around work? When was the last time you skimmed across the water on a boat as the sun set into the water?”

  “I live in New York. It rises out of the sea on the East Coast.”

  “Then you’re long overdue.”

  “Are you always this tenacious?”

  “When I want something, absolutely.”

  “And you want me.”

  “We’ve already established that. Yeah. I want you more than I’ve ever wanted any woman in my life. More than I’ll ever want any other woman. What would you say to honeymooning in Hawaii? Cole went there with Kelli and they both say it’s paradise.

  “Think of it, Maddy—a land of mai tais and passion fruit and flowers so bright they almost blind you, lush green valleys, volcanoes—”

  “We have volcanoes here in the Pacific Northwest.”

  “You’re just trying to get me off topic, but it isn’t going to work. Picture sand that sparkles like black diamonds, and waterfalls where we can get naked and make love in warm blue-green tropical pools—”

  “Do all your fantasies include getting wet and naked?”

  “Most of them,” he admitted. “Which probably come from all the past years of eating sand and dust. But I do have this other one, where we’re skiing in the Alps and I rescue you from an avalanche, and carry you miles through knee-deep snow until we get to this chalet—”

  “Which conveniently happens to be abandoned.”

  “See?” That crease that was not quite a dimple winked as he grinned. “Great minds…So, after we stumble in, I light the logs conveniently stacked in a stone fireplace, pour us some brandy—”

  “Which just happened to be sitting on the table waiting for survivors of avalanches?”

  “No. That would be too much of a coincidence even for a fantasy. Didn’t I mention the Saint Bernard that followed along with us?”

  “I don’t believe he came up.”

  “Clearly an oversight. But, fortunately, he showed up just in time. However, there do happen to be two snifters sitting on a table, and this big fur rug on the floor in front of the fireplace, so—”

  “We get naked.”

  “We don’t really have any choice. Because our clothes are soaked and frozen from all that ice and snow.”

  “Wet and naked. Admit it, Lucas Chaffee. Your fantasies are in a rut.”

  He laughed. “Got me there,” he said agreeably. “But I do have a whole bunch of others.” His grin turned into a friendly leer. “Want to hear some more?”

  “Why don’t you save them for some other time and show me around instead? Now that I’m here, I’d like to see what you’ve got planned. Then, I really do want to see your ideas for Gram’s restaurant.”

  “I’ve got the sketches on my laptop. But since there’s no place to sit down and spread stuff out here, we can either go back to the farm or my place. Which, to be honest, I’d really prefer.”

  “I’ll bet. Because Gram wouldn’t be around to chaperone.”

  “I think we’re beyond the age of needing a chaperone.…Kara called and told me that she’d told you about that night the copter had crashed. Up in the Kush.”

  “She told me some of it,” Madeline was a bit surprised at how quickly the topic had swung from flirtatious fun to deadly serious. “Though I suspected Sax didn’t share everything.”

  “I strongly doubt he did,” he ag
reed. His expression was as intense as she’d ever seen it. “You might not like the idea, at least right now, but the fact is, like it or not, you can’t deny that we’re involved, Maddy.”

  “No.” If she demanded honesty from him, she owed the same in return. “I can’t.”

  “Then I have some stuff you need to hear.”

  Thinking back to what Kara had told her, Madeline would have to be evil Dalmatian puppy murderer Cruella de Vil to turn down the naked need she heard in Lucas’ rough, flat voice.

  “You can show me around the cannery some other time,” she said. “It’s been sitting here empty for years. It won’t be going anywhere in the next few days. Meanwhile, I’ll follow you out to your place.”

  “Thanks.” He did not look relieved. More, she thought, resigned.

  46

  “I bought some wine,” Lucas said, as they walked into the cottage. “Would you like a glass?”

  “Am I going to need one?”

  “It might not hurt.”

  “Well, then, I guess I’d like a glass.”

  “Red or white?” He held up two bottles, both labels she knew to be outrageously expensive at wholesale price. She couldn’t imagine what he’d paid for these.

  “I didn’t realize you were a wine buff.”

  “I’m not. I told Sax I wanted the good stuff and he suggested these.”

  He’d bought them for her, knowing she’d come back to the cottage. Then again, she suspected anyone watching them the past few days would have been able to figure out where they were headed.

  “That’s very thoughtful of you. And I’ll take the sauvignon blanc,” she decided.

  She loved that he actually had to look at the label to see which was which. Again, showing that, knowing nothing about wine, he’d gone to that extra effort just for her. Working his way to redemption, which, especially after that story Kara had shared, he’d already achieved.

  He opened the bottle with more skill than she might have expected, poured it into a glass his father must have originally bought, since there was a row of them on a kitchen shelf, and snagged a bottle of dark beer from the fridge for himself. Then, as if he wanted to maintain some distance between them—yet another warning that this wasn’t going to be the easiest story to listen to—he put her glass and the bottle on the farm table.