“They were wonderful people,” Mary said. “I was grateful you had someone to watch over you when I couldn’t.”
“As for seduction, it wasn’t the men that enticed me, but the food,” Emma said, with a grin. “Cooking gave me a purpose in life.”
“Or something to hide behind.”
Emma looked at her mother with wary bemusement. She wasn’t sure she was up to a deep, philosophical discussion right now. “What do you mean?”
Her mother waved her hand. “Oh honey, forget it.”
“No. Tell me,” Emma said, now unable to put a cork in a bottle that had just been popped open. Did her mother think she used her profession as a shield? Layla had said something similar during their road trip.
Her mother stood, taking her cup and placing it in the sink. “We’re both tense, worrying about Imogene.”
“Mom, come on…”
Her mother turned and leaned back against the counter. For a moment, she hesitated, as if searching for the right words. “What worried me, especially as you got older, was that those kitchens gave you a place to hide out and avoid life. Avoid relationships, avoid maybe being hurt.”
The jab went straight to Emma’s heart, where she was most vulnerable. “I don’t hide out. I’m a chef, which entails being in the kitchen.”
“That’s not what I mean, and you know it. I’ve seen it again, here. Where do you go when you don’t want to deal with Paige and Imogene? Or with whatever is going on between you and Reece Casings?”
Emma tensed. “There’s nothing—” The look her mother gave her stopped the lie on Emma’s tongue.
“Honey, there are enough sparks flying between you two to start a forest fire,” her mother said.
Emma opened her mouth, ready to deny the accusation. Her mother was wrong. In fact, she had stepped away from the stove long enough to try a relationship. All she’d done was prove that cooking was the only thing she could count on. Certainly she couldn't count on a man to secure her happiness. Men always acted in their own selfish interests, heedless of the collateral damage they caused. Her father had only been the first, but there had been plenty of other examples. Aside from her own disastrous affair, Emma had witnessed countless times when the guys in the kitchen, many of whom were married or in serious relationships, screwed around and cheated. Sometimes they’d hook up with one of the waitresses or they’d head out to a club after closing and pick up a woman there.
Suddenly, Emma heard the jangle of keys in the front door. She spun around, listening to the familiar creek as the door slowly opened. She took off for the foyer, not even waiting to see if her mother followed.
Imogene was easing the door closed with all the care of someone trying to diffuse a bomb.
Emma snapped on the hall light. “Hello.”
The teen froze, and Emma heard a muffled, but still fairly clear, curse before Imogene turned around. Everything from her stiff shoulders to lemon-puckered lips and narrowed eyes screamed… So what if you caught me? You aren’t the boss of me.
Sadly for all of them, Emma had been made the boss.
“Did you get lost?” Emma asked in an even tone.
No answer.
Emma tried again. “I know you’ve lived in Shellwater Key all your life, but still, in the dark things can get so turned around.”
Eye roll. At least it was a reaction.
“Car died?” Emma continued. “Somebody broke a body part, like an arm or a leg? Or maybe you lost your phone? Or got taken up by aliens who wanted to test primitive technology like cell phones so you weren’t able to reach out and alert NASA or the folks out in Roswell? Or me?”
Finally, the silent wraith holding up the door spoke. “You think you’re so funny.”
“Oh, I don’t find this funny at all,” Emma said. “I’m sure I remember telling you that curfew was eleven on a weekend.”
Imogene shrugged.
Emma watched the gesture with a sinking heart. She was so tired. Tired of the constant roiling, raging energy that permeated her sister’s entire being. Exhausted by the mood shifts and overall drama, and she didn’t have the strength to deal with it tonight.
“I’m going to bed,” Emma said, heading upstairs. “We have church tomorrow so you’d better be dressed and waiting at the door for us when it’s time to leave.”
“That’s it?” Imogene asked.
She paused on the third step. “Do you want to fight?”
“No.”
“Then that’s it…for now.”
She waited till she got to the top before she turned again. “Except I hope you like your room, because you’re going to be hanging out there a lot for the next week. No going anywhere after school, no parties. And when you’re in the house, your phone will be left on the kitchen table. I’m taking the computer out of your room, too. You can use it for homework only. No texting, no posting, no nothing.”
“You can’t do that!” Imogene cried, too surprised to remember she wasn’t supposed to care about anything.
Emma looked down at her sister. “Our father’s will says that I can do exactly that.”
She felt bad about evoking the memory of Thomas Bertram to score a point, but right now she didn’t care. She wasn’t just angry with Imogene, but at their father, who had left them in this untenable situation. It might not be rational – after all he hadn’t chosen to die – but he had made the decision to throw them together without bothering to warn anyone.
Disheartened and furious beyond belief, Emma went and took a hot shower. Then, wrapped in an emerald-green, silk robe that had been a Christmas gift from Isabella, Emma trooped back down to the kitchen. Her mother had gone to bed. Emma experienced another qualm of guilt, since she’d abandoned her mother without another thought earlier.
Not that she wanted to continue their conversation. Instead, Emma grabbed the cheesecake she’d made that afternoon and cut a piece. She hadn’t even taken a bite when someone knocked on the back door.
Jumping in fright, she held a hand to her racing heart. Her pulse skipped even more when she recognized the familiar broad shoulders on the other side. Wiping her hands on a dishtowel, Emma walked over and opened the inner glass door, leaving the screened one closed. She and Reece stared at each other through the mesh, the wired pattern casting crisscrossing shadows across his face.
“What do you want?” she asked.
“I’m here to find out why you’re holding your sister hostage,” Reece said.
She snorted. “I’d hardly call staying in a room with a comfy bed and posters of teen idols on the wall a prison.”
More staring through the mesh, and then he smiled. “Can I come in?”
His smile sealed her fate. If he’d yelled or taken Imogene’s side, Emma might have slammed the door in his face, but that small glimpse of humor and understanding let her know she wasn’t alone. So even though she knew it was a bad idea to be near Reece Casings in the dark kitchen, she unlatched the screen. Then she compounded that grave mistake by walking into his arms and laying her head on his chest.
He didn’t say anything, but pulled her closer. As he stroked her hair and back, she realized how good it felt to lean on someone else for a few minutes.
“I’m not sure I can do this anymore,” she whispered into his chest. “I don’t think I’m cut out to be anyone’s mother. Especially to Paige and Imogene.”
He set her away from him and stepped around her into the house. “Sure you can.”
Emma blinked, shocked both by his words and by how much she missed the heat of his body. “This from the man who’s done nothing but question my fitness as a guardian from the moment we met?” she asked, attempting not to think about how much she craved being back in his arms.
Perhaps opening that door had been a terrible mistake. Talk about being vulnerable and open to any suggestion that might make her forget how much her life sucked right now.
“I might have been wrong about that,” Reece said, opening the fridge and t
aking out a can of soda.
He popped the top and the sharp swish of air broke the sensual spell she’d been under. Thank goodness he’d reverted to typical, male, take-whatever-I-want behavior. Emma rested a hip against the counter and folded her arms. “Please, make yourself at home.”
“Thanks, I will.” He lifted the can to his mouth, but stopped half way there. His eyes widened. “What are you wearing?”
“What?”
“That.” He pointed at her and waved a hand. “What is that?”
She looked down, but the only thing she noticed was her green wrap. “It’s just a robe.”
“That is not just a robe,” he said, with heavy irony. “It’s a midnight siren call that could get us both in huge trouble.”
She flushed and folded her arms across her chest. “I wasn’t expecting company.”
His brown eyes somehow blazed even darker. “I sure as hell hope not.”
The knowledge that she could affect him shouldn’t have been so thrilling. It shouldn’t have made her want to rip off the stupid robe and have him up against the refrigerator. Since following that impulse would be a horrendously bad idea, she turned to the only thing she knew. “Do you want something to go with that soda?”
“You mean other than you?”
The desire that winged through her body nearly brought her to her knees. She could tell by the stiffness of his shoulders and the clenched fists that the comment had shocked him as well. Reece wasn’t the kind of man to utter seductive words in the dark of night…or maybe she simply wanted to believe he wouldn’t. If Emma imagined Reece as a virile, hot-blooded male – rather than the unfeeling, judgmental attorney-at-law – she might never be able to resist him.
“I probably shouldn’t stay,” he said, his gaze travelling down her silk-clad figure again in a way that made her half-crazy.
If Emma were smart she would kick him out, but no matter the danger, she didn’t want to be alone with her thoughts right now.
So, she took a deep breath, told her reckless body to get it under control, and made her pitch. “I think we’ll be safe sitting at the table,” she said, trying to inject a breezy nonchalance, which probably didn't fool him in the least. It certainly didn’t fool her.
Reece lifted his gaze to her eyes, and they stared across the silent kitchen. Then he nodded and took a seat. She sliced more cheesecake and brought both plates over, since she had never gotten to eat hers. Then she slid into a chair opposite, careful to leave plenty of table between them as a buffer.
Instead of taking a bite, Emma waited. She watched as he lifted the first bite to his mouth, holding her breath as the fork cleared his lips. Then he closed his eyes and made a sound of such unadulterated pleasure that she felt the jolt along all her synapses.
He let out an oath and opened his eyes. “What do you put in this?”
“Nothing much, a little chocolate ganache mixed with a raspberry sauce,” she said, holding back a smug grin.
It was her signature Chocolate Temptation Cheesecake, which had won her numerous awards and accolades from some of the finest chefs in the world.
Reece cut off another bite and ate again. “Holy crap…that is…”
“Do you like it?” Emma asked, the spike of pleasure at watching him enjoy her food became the biggest turn on she could ever imagine. Perhaps she should have kicked him out when she had the chance.
“Like it?” he echoed in amazement. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to eat it all without losing my mind. It’s out of this world. If you’re planning to serve this at The Paradise, the place will be packed to the rafters every night.”
Now she couldn’t contain a satisfied grin. “That good?”
“Better.” He ate the rest in two bites and then ran a finger across the plate to catch a smear of cheesecake that had been left. He sat back in his chair and sighed. “I could die a happy man right now.”
“I guess I found a way to soften you up then,” Emma said in a teasing manner.
Reece’s gaze slipped once more to her silk robe. “Not if you serve it dressed in that,” he said, a husky note returning to his voice.
Danger…Danger…her mind flashed as she stared at him. The only thing she could do to break the spell was eat her own piece of cheesecake. She took a bite and groaned in ecstasy. “Oh, that is good.”
When she opened her eyes, Reece was staring at her, the heat in his dark gaze enough to incinerate her.
“Maybe we shouldn’t eat anything you make when we’re alone together,” Reece said, his voice holding a similar velvety darkness. “We’d never make it through the meal.”
A heady shudder swept through her, and Emma realized with alarm that the table between them was no defense at all. In fact, it presented another available surface with which to ease the ache he created. Panicked, Emma pushed her plate away and then focused on the grain of the table. Imagined her father eating dinner here with Mona and the girls.
Oh yeah, picturing the happy family chattering about their day worked to clear her mind of sensual thoughts.
“So, exactly why are you here again?” Emma asked.
Reece accepted the change of topic without comment and leaned back in his chair. “Imogene called, claiming her one phone call before going into the slammer.”
“She actually said that?”
The corner of his mouth lifted. “My interpretation. I didn’t catch half of what she said over the crying. I got something about being grounded, with no computer or phone like forever – and that is a direct quote.”
“Nice to know I’m not the only one in tears tonight.” Emma sighed and rested her chin in her hand. “And her punishment is only for a week.”
“What happened?”
“She missed curfew by two hours.”
He nodded. “I guess a week sounds about right.”
“You agree with me?” Surprise flooded through her, and she straightened, staring at him in astonishment. “You don’t think I was too harsh? Or that I should have better control of her? Or that maybe if she wasn’t so unhappy with me she wouldn’t defy me so much?”
“Stop.” Reece held up his hands “time-out” style. “We discussed this already. Imogene’s not going to be happy with anyone right now, so don’t imagine her actions have all that much to do with you. If she missed curfew, there should be consequences.”
“I’m stunned.”
“That you’re doing a good job with your sisters?”
Emma shook her head. “No…that you think I am.”
His lips firmed. “Then I’m sorry for not telling you,” he said, for once seeming contrite and humble. “You really are doing a good job with both of them. You were right about Paige, too. Being in the show will probably be the best thing for her.”
She looked at him, astounded.
“What?” he asked, when she continued to stare.
“Sorry. I’m just not used to getting support from you.”
“I apologize for that, too,” Reece said, looking her right in the eyes and not flinching away from the apology like most men would. “I only want to help you and be there for the girls.”
Emma traced a circle on the table. “Half the time I think you should be the one raising them. They love and trust you way more than they do me.”
She lifted her gaze in time to catch a look of such despair that Emma flinched. He quickly masked his expression, turning almost remote. “That’s because they still don’t know you well.”
Emma wondered what in the world that look had been about. What kind of pain was he hiding behind the cool, lawyer’s façade? Perhaps it had something to do with why he’d wound up in Shellwater Key in the first place. Or why a young, good-looking, single man would choose to spend all his time with someone else’s kids.
Was he dating? He’d never mentioned anyone. It seemed unlikely that he could keep a relationship secret in such a small town, but perhaps Reece was intensely private.
“Is there a girlfriend waiting for
you somewhere?” Emma asked, suddenly desperate to know. “Someone wondering where you’ve gone in the middle of the night?”
Reece’s gaze turned to one of surprise. “No.”
“Seriously? Do you date at all?” Emma asked, wondering why she needed to know. “There must be prospects in town. I mean, handsome men of marriageable age can’t be too plentiful in a place where the average age is over sixty-five.”
“There’s no one.” Reece stood, taking her plate and his to the sink. “Hasn’t been in a while. I’ve dated off and on, but nothing has stuck.”
“What about before you moved to Shellwater Key? When was that again?”
He turned to face her and leaned back against the counter. “Why all the questions suddenly?”
She stood as well and moved closer. “I’ve always been curious, but now we’re both drunk on sinful cheesecake so my defenses are down. So, was there a girlfriend before? Have you ever lived with someone? Ever been engaged?”
He stared at her in bemusement. “Emma, why does it matter?”
She shrugged, because honestly she didn’t have an answer. “It doesn’t, I guess. I just want to know.”
“Fine.” He folded his arms. “I had a serious girlfriend in college. Thought I might marry her, but she wanted to be a professional dancer. In the end she chose dance over a relationship, so she broke it off our senior year and moved to New York.”
“Wow…” Emma breathed. “I’m sorry. That must have hurt.”
A flash of that same, unnamed pain swept across his features again. “I got over it, and I found out years later that I’d wasted my love anyway. She wasn’t the person I thought she was.”
Join the club, Emma thought sourly.
“I guess she must have put you off relationships,” Emma said. “You were so hurt you didn’t want to try again?”
He gave her a puzzled stare. “No…I tried again a few times. I was actually engaged right before I came to Shellwater Key, but we broke it off.”
Straight on Toward Paradise Page 21