Suddenly Last Summer

by Sarah Morgan

  “Yes, he did. Don’t look so worried. I took it as a sign that at least part of him was functioning normally. If he’d welcomed me with hugs and balloons I would have been sending him for a brain scan.” But Sean’s smile was tired and Élise felt a flash of frustration that human relationships had to be so complicated.

  “Is that why you don’t come home more? Because he’s difficult?”

  “My home is Boston.” His answer was smooth. “And I come home when my schedule allows.”

  Which was hardly ever. She’d assumed he was busy. Occasionally she’d wondered if his absence had something to do with her. Now she wondered if there was more to it. “Don’t you miss Snow Crystal?”

  “I like the city. I like having a choice of restaurants within two blocks and access to culture. Don’t you ever miss Paris? I can’t believe you don’t sometimes feel trapped in a place like this.”

  Surrounded by lakes, forests, mountains and beauty, working in a job she loved with people who cared about her?

  This wasn’t trapped.

  Something dark unfurled inside her.

  She’d been trapped and it had felt nothing like this.

  “I don’t miss Paris.” When she thought of Paris now, she thought not of strolling along the Jardin des Tuileries or of the light playing over the surface of the Seine, she thought of him. She thought of the ugly side of love and relationships. She lifted her hand to her short, styled hair and felt suddenly cold. “I love it here. Even though I wasn’t born at Snow Crystal, I’m sure I love it as much as you do.”

  “Well, that’s lucky for my family. You’re an exceptional chef. Before you arrived our taste buds had never really lived. Whatever Jackson did to persuade you to come here, we’re all grateful.”

  Jackson hadn’t persuaded her. He’d offered her a lifeline. She’d messed up her life through a series of bad choices and Jackson had given her a way out. Without him—

  She didn’t want to think about that. But she was never going to let him regret his decision. She was going to make sure that Snow Crystal was known for its food as well as its other charms. She was determined to do her bit to make the place a success, but she was already failing, wasn’t she? She’d promised the Boathouse Café would be open in time to make the most of the summer tourist traffic and now it wouldn’t be. The delay would harm them, there was no doubt about that.

  Frustrated and upset with herself, Élise stared at the glassy surface of the lake, barely visible in the darkness.

  This place felt more like home than anywhere she’d ever lived.

  Sean leaned back in his chair, watching her. “You look as if someone just killed your pet rabbit. Is this about my grandfather or is it something else?”

  “It’s nothing. I’m just tired.”

  “Don’t lie to me. I’m a doctor. I spend my entire life talking to anxious patients. Tell me what’s wrong.”

  She stared at the water and shrugged. “I am upset because I’m letting him down.”

  “Who? Gramps?”

  “Jackson. He is working so hard to save Snow Crystal. The Boathouse Café is part of that. The launch wasn’t just an excuse for a party, it was supposed to be a way of showing important people how far we’ve come. How much the place has to offer. I wanted to make it happen for him.”

  “So it will happen a bit late. No big deal.”

  “It is a big deal! I owe him so much.” Seeing the question in his eyes, she realized she’d said too much. “I mean, I work for him and I love it here. It’s in my interests that this place survives and thrives.”

  “Lucky Jackson, having staff as loyal as you.” He was silent for a moment. “How did the two of you meet? I don’t think I’ve ever asked either of you that.”

  “We met in Paris.” She phrased her answer carefully. “He ate in the restaurant I once worked in.”

  “Chez Laroche? I know you worked for Pascal Laroche. I read that you were the only woman in his kitchen.”

  He knew that? Somehow, she kept the smile fixed on her face. “That’s right.”

  “Major career achievement. I ate there once. He’s brilliant.”

  And controlling, unscrupulous and, as it turned out, violent.

  “He taught me a great deal.”

  It wasn’t a lie. Pascal had taught her, not just how to make a perfect soufflé but that love was a gift that, once given, left a person exposed and vulnerable. He’d taught her that love could be obsessive, narcissistic and sometimes dangerous. He’d taught her that and more and the lessons had been well learned and never forgotten.

  She’d graduated from his school of life with honors.

  Pascal hadn’t killed her belief in love. You only had to look at Walter and Alice or Jackson and Kayla to know love existed. No, he’d killed her belief in herself. Her belief in her ability to judge people, her ability to know where and when to trust. Passion had blinded her. Impaired her judgment. She wasn’t going to let it happen again, no matter how attractive the man.

  Wishing she hadn’t started the conversation, Élise rose. “Would you like cheese?”

  “No, thanks. How are you feeling? Dizziness gone?”

  “Yes.” All she was feeling was sick, but thinking about Pascal always did that to her. “It was a stressful day. Thank you for listening.”

  “Exercise is good for stress.” Sean stood up. “I’d suggest sex, but I’m guessing you’d say no, so why don’t we go for a walk instead?”

  Distracted by the mention of sex, Élise stared at him. “Walk?”

  “You’d prefer sex?” His lazy gaze was loaded with humor and she felt some of the tension ease.

  “I should go to bed.”

  “You won’t sleep with all that adrenaline rushing around your veins. Show me what you’ve done with the boathouse. Last time I saw the place it was nothing but splintered planks and cobwebs.”

  “Now? It’s dark.”

  “I’ll be fine if you hold my hand.”

  It was impossible not to smile. “All right.”

  Why not? Deciding that fresh forest air might stop her from thinking of Walter and her past, she walked back into her lodge and picked up a thin sweater and a flashlight.

  It was just a walk. Just two people enjoying some fresh air.

  Where was the harm in that?

  CHAPTER THREE

  HIS PLAN HAD been to give her a report on his grandfather and leave. What hadn’t been part of his plan was lingering and eating a meal, but when he’d arrived she’d looked so shocked to see him he’d thought she was going to pass out at his feet.

  There was no way he was leaving her on her own until he was sure she was all right.

  “I’m ready, but I warn you it isn’t finished so you’ll need to be careful where you tread.” Switching on the flashlight, she took the steps to the lake path that wound through trees to the almost finished café. “We’re finishing off the interior over the next few days but opening will be delayed because of the deck.”

  He wondered why she was so agitated about it. “What difference does a few days make? It’s a café, not a matter of life or death.”

  She turned, almost dazzling him with the beam of light. “It could mean life or death for Snow Crystal. Don’t you care?” In the seconds before he was temporarily blinded, he saw the blaze of anger in her eyes.

  It didn’t surprise him.

  Élise was emotional and passionate about everything. He’d witnessed the intensity of that passion once before, on that night when both of them had ceased to pretend their mutual attraction didn’t exist.

  “This place has been in my family for four generations. Of course I care.” His emotions were much more complex than that simple statement suggested, but he had no intention of sharing that.

  The light wobbled. “But what we do here is not really important?”

  “That’s not what I’m saying.”

  “You are saying it has to be a person’s life before it matters? Well let me tell you something,
Sean O’Neil.” She advanced on him, her green eyes the only color in her pale face. “This place is like a person to me. And the people who live and work here matter more than anything. And if Snow Crystal doesn’t survive, then that will make a huge difference to people’s lives. You might not want to be involved with what is going on here, but don’t ever dismiss it as irrelevant.”

  She was wild. Furious. Uncontrolled. She’d also switched to French without realizing it.

  He knew her exaggerated response was fallout from the intense emotion of the day. He saw the same thing happen all the time in his working life.

  It made perfect sense.

  What made less sense was the fact that he wanted to kiss her.

  He wanted to slide his fingers into her hair, cover her mouth with his and kiss her until the fire in her eyes turned from anger to passion. He wanted to taste that passion again, feel it slide over his tongue and into his veins.

  Disturbed by how badly he wanted to grab her, knowing that the last thing he needed in his life was a romantic entanglement, he stepped back. “I never said it was irrelevant. You’re worried about opening late. I was trying to put it in perspective.”

  “Your perspective and mine are different.” She turned and walked away, the beam from the flashlight bouncing angrily across the path.

  While he was waiting for his vision to adjust, Sean breathed in the scent of the trees and the water and was immediately transported back to his childhood.

  He was back in a place that made him feel as if he were being suffocated. And now, to complicate things, he was with a woman who made him think of nothing but sex.

  A woman who had walked off with the flashlight.

  He followed her down the path, making his way, barely able to see where he was going, cursing fluently as his feet crunched on twigs and sank into something soft and unidentifiable.

  “That’s a perfectly good pair of shoes ruined. I should have followed Gramps’s orders and driven straight back to Boston.”

  She turned, almost blinding him with the beam of the flashlight. “So why didn’t you?”

  “Because I’ve had a long day.” And because the sight of his grandmother’s pale face had been enough to weld his feet to the floor. “And the food is pretty good around here. I’m planning on hanging around for a while.”

  “Good. Because whatever Walter says, your family needs you.” She paused, her shoulders stiff. “I apologize for shouting. You made me angry.”

  “Yeah, I got that. Still, at least you didn’t smack me over the head with the flashlight. I should probably be grateful for that. Any chance you could shine it at my feet so I can see what I’m stepping in?”

  “It’s a forest! How did you ever survive growing up here?”

  “I didn’t wear expensive shoes.” He contemplated wiping them on something but decided it would make it worse. “We used to play down here when we were kids. Mom would send us out with a picnic and we played pirates on the lake and built a camp in the forest. We smeared ourselves with mud to camouflage ourselves and then hid when Gramps came looking for us.”

  She eyed his suit. “I cannot imagine you filthy and covered in mud.”

  “Take a closer look and you’ll see it now.” He cursed again as his foot slid. “These shoes are Italian.” Giving up on his feet, he glanced up though leaves and branches. “Tyler fell out of this one. He never could keep quiet. He was wriggling, fell and broke his arm. That was the first time I saw what bone looked like. He screamed himself hoarse. Jackson was white and rushing around trying to remember the first aid we’d been taught while I stood there thinking, it would be so cool to know how to fix that. The following winter Jackson broke his arm snowboarding and that was when I knew for sure I wanted to be a doctor. I was seven years old.” He grinned at her. “Of course, I also thought it would be a great way to pull women.”

  She glared at him. “You don’t charm me. I’m still angry with you.”

  “There’s no justice in the world.”

  “You think women are impressed by the fact you’re a doctor?”

  Plenty were, but he decided this wasn’t a good moment to mention that. “Obviously you’re not.”

  “Maybe you should have chosen something impressive like brain surgery.”

  “I could retrain. You think that would make a difference to my hit rate?”

  Her scathing look told him she knew exactly how good his hit rate was. “If you’re trying to pull women you should change the way you tell the story—less mention of bone and more heroics might help.”

  “You want heroics?”

  “Every woman wants heroics.”

  “Really? I had no idea. It’s a wonder I’ve scored at all in the past. So give me some help here—what do I have to do to impress you? Fight a moose? Wrestle a bear?”

  “Wouldn’t that ruin your suit?” She was softening, her anger a faint glow instead of an intense burn.

  “I could ask the bear to wait while I hang my jacket on a tree.” The scent of her hair made him dizzy. He was sure if a bear walked up now, he wouldn’t notice it.

  “You pretend to worry about your suit, but you are quite at home in the forest.”

  Sean’s foot sank into mud again and he turned the air blue. “Trust me, I really am worried about my suit. It’s done nothing to deserve this treatment.”

  “So it has to be intellectual heroism. Nothing physical.”

  “I have no problems with physical.” He moved closer to her and saw her back away fractionally. “I just might remove my clothes first.”

  She backed away until she was pressed up against the tree. “Don’t flirt with me.”

  “Why not? It’s the perfect way to take our minds off a bad day.” He planted his hand against the tree and smiled down at her, forcing himself not to kiss that mouth. Not yet.

  She’d probably been on her feet for hours and yet she looked cool and elegant, a scarf knotted with artful simplicity around her throat. Her style was effortless and subtle, her hair glossy dark and cut in a sleek, geometric bob that brushed her jaw. She looked delicate and fragile but he knew she was neither of those things. She was strong, fit and driven by more passion and energy than anyone he’d ever met except perhaps his grandfather. She poured that passion and energy into everything she did, from cooking to—

  His body hardened.

  She pushed at his chest. “We’re here because you wanted to see the boathouse, remember?”

  “I confess I brought you here with nefarious intentions.”

  “Nefarious?” She rolled her tongue around the word and he tried to focus his mind sufficiently to provide a translation.

  “Maléfique?”

  “Wicked. Of course.” She frowned, irritated with herself. “It’s just not a word I have reason to use often at Snow Crystal.”

  “Maybe we should do something about that.”

  “I don’t think so.” Cool, back in control, she ducked under his arm. “You wanted to see what we’ve done, so come and see. I’m excited about this place. It’s the first time I’ve been involved with something from the start.”

  He forced himself to focus on her words and not on the long, lean lines of her body.

  “So I’ve told you why I wanted to be a doctor. Now it’s your turn. Did you always want to be a chef?”

  It occurred to him that it was the first personal question he’d asked her.

  “From the age of four. I was making madeleines with my mother. She was a pâtissière. You call it pastry chef. She stood me on a stool so that I could reach the table and I helped her whisk the mixture. I still remember how it felt to pull the tray from the oven and know I’d made them. The aroma filled our little apartment. And so did my mother’s smile when she tasted them. I decided that was what I wanted to do. Make people smile with my food.” Her own smile faltered for a moment and he saw something in her face before she turned away and walked the last few strides to the boathouse, taking the flashlight with her.

/>   He followed, walking on a carpet of pine needles, twigs crunching under his feet while wondering what the rest of her story was. Because there was more, he was sure of that.

  She took the steps onto the half-finished deck. “Be careful not to trip. There are still some planks lying around and the railings aren’t finished. You might end up in the water.”

  “Wouldn’t be the first time. My shoes are already ruined so I might as well ruin the suit right along with it.” He glanced around him, surprised by the progress. “You’re closer to finished than I thought you’d be.”

  “That makes it worse. We so nearly made our deadline.”

  “Why this obsession with deadlines? Is my brother a tough boss or something? Do you need me to beat him up for you?”

  Her eyes glinted in the semidarkness. “Jackson is the best boss anyone could ever have. Do not ever say a single word against him or you’ll make me angry.”

  “Hey, calm down. Jackson is a saint,” Sean drawled. “I’ve always said it.” But he wondered what it was about his brother that induced such loyalty from Élise.

  Pondering that, dealing with the surprising flash of jealousy, he strolled across the half-completed deck and stared through the glass into darkness.

  It was strange to see it renovated.

  This place had been his hideout. Somewhere he could sit with his nose in a book and not be disturbed. Hell, he was pretty sure he’d carved mathematical algorithms into the time frame. He and his brothers had played on the old splintered planks and hidden when their grandfather had come looking for them. There had always been something that needed to be done at Snow Crystal. Trails to be cleared, logs to be chopped, trees to be tapped—the list of jobs was endless and his grandfather had applied himself tirelessly to the upkeep of the family home.

  Sean remembered his tenth birthday when his grandfather had told him proudly that Snow Crystal would belong to the three boys one day. It was a legacy, he’d said, something that had to be preserved and protected for future generations.

  Sean had kept his head down and sanded the planks of wood, thinking of the science books in his bag and wanting to ask his grandfather if “legacy” meant the same thing as “burden.” He’d heard his father use the word burden a hundred times. Heard him talk about being trapped in a life he hadn’t wanted.