Harlequin Romance April 2015 Box Set (10 page)

He glanced up. ‘So the cinemas, libraries, cafés—they’re just...?’

‘Attractive fringe benefits.’

He continued to stare at her. It took an effort not to fidget.

‘They’re getting on. They’re independent, and in good health at the moment, but it won’t last forever.
When the time comes I want to care for them. They spent so much of their lives looking after me and...well, we’re family and it matters.’

Russ’s heart attack had taught her what the important things in life were and it wasn’t a lesson she meant to forget.

Those blue eyes flashed and she swore she almost felt heat searing her skin.

‘Are you trying to make me feel guilty about Russ?’

She blinked. ‘Of course not.’

He pushed the bowl towards her and stood. ‘I think you’ll find your mix is ready.’

‘Don’t go, Mac. I’m not trying to make you feel bad about Russ. I tried that the other day and I’m not one to go back over old ground. I just wanted to make sure you knew how he felt—that while he won’t say anything he’s hurt that you haven’t been to see him. Now that
you do know the rest of it is up to you.’

‘There is no “rest of it”, Jo. There’s nothing that can be done.’

‘You could at least tell him why. You could at least acknowledge that you’re letting him down and apologise. I understand you feel responsible for Ethan, but he’s not the only person who needs you.’

This wasn’t the way to make him stay.

She stuck out a hip. His gaze fixed
on it for a heartbeat before returning to her face. She tried to control her breathing.

‘Look, I’m doing my best with your rotten recipes, aren’t I?’

‘They’re not supposed to be rotten.’

‘Then why do I keep dreaming of fish-finger burgers?

He adjusted his stance. ‘Your point being...?’

‘I’m trying to help you out, so the least you can do is sit there and watch as I try
to shape this unholy mess into pretty little
macarons
. Give me tips where appropriate and whatnot.’

He folded his arms, lowered his gaze to her hip again. When he raised it his eyes had started to gleam. ‘I’ll do it for a boon.’

A...
what
?

‘A kiss.’

Something inside her softened. He smirked. She hardened it. Did he think she’d run away from the challenge? She hitched up her
chin. She wasn’t in any mood to be browbeaten.

‘Done.’

A kiss on the cheek. She bit her inner cheek to stop from smiling. Simple.

‘A kiss on the lips,’ he said, as if he’d read her mind.

She could feel her eyes narrow. ‘I thought you said kissing was a bad idea?’

‘I was wrong. I want to kiss you. A lot. And for a long time. In fact I want to do more than kiss you, Jo.’

Everything inside her thrilled to his words. She should be running for the hills, but she needed steady legs for running and hers were far from steady. The temptation to follow the beat of this particular drum flooded through her. It addled her mind, but it didn’t completely scramble it.

‘Fine, then. A kiss on the lips. But no hands.’ She didn’t need even the tiniest bits of their bodies
touching. ‘And not until the
macarons
are in the oven.’

‘Deal.’

He sat. Her heart chugged. This was craziness—absolute craziness. Why on earth did he want a kiss from a great lug like her?

‘You’re a beautiful woman.’

She didn’t believe that for a moment, but she couldn’t deny the heat that flared between them. It didn’t make sense, but it existed all the same.

She picked
up a spoon.

‘Your hands are shaking.’

She gritted her teeth and handed the spoon to him. ‘Cooking makes me nervous. Show me how you dollop this mess out to make pretty little domes.’

‘You don’t
dollop
it. You pipe it.’

He flung open a kitchen drawer, seized a freezer bag and snipped off the end. She watched as he masterfully filled the makeshift piping bag and then proceeded
to pipe a perfect row on her newly prepared cookie sheet.

‘We’ll take it in turns. You do the next row.’

His hands were steady. Hers weren’t. That had to be the reason his rows looked so much neater than hers. And even while she lectured herself to pay attention and follow his instructions precisely all she could think about was what beautiful hands he had and what an idiot she’d been
to make that no-hands rule for their kiss. It would be divine to have those fingers tracing across her naked flesh.

‘They’re ready to go in the oven now.’

Her pulse fluttered up into her throat, jamming her breath and making her knees tremble.
Don’t show weakness.
She did what she could to force steel to her backbone. With an insouciance she was far from feeling she picked up the tray
and moved towards the oven.

‘Wait.’

She wanted to scream.

Mac clicked his tongue. ‘I’d better check the oven temperature.’

It reminded her of what she’d just achieved in here. Mac had all but made those
macarons
himself.

He opened the oven door and put his hand inside. Apparently satisfied, he took the tray from her and placed it inside. When he turned back he wore the
most satisfied smile she’d ever seen a male of the species wear.

‘Now you have to kiss me.’

She might doubt her attractiveness to the opposite sex, but there was no denying the relish in Mac’s grin. That relish gleamed from his eyes, practically spilling from his every pore. Her throat started to tighten. She couldn’t trust it. Mac was a consummate actor.

She slammed her hands to
her hips. ‘You think it’s fair to blackmail a kiss from me?’

‘God, but you’re beautiful when you flare up like that.’

The shrivelling started. ‘And now I
know
you’re not being serious. I’ve never been beautiful and—’

‘I’ve never understood the urge some men have to bend a woman over their knee and give them six of the best...until now.’

Her eyes started from her head. Her throat
thickened and she had to swallow a couple of times. ‘You wouldn’t dare!’

He leaned in close, his eyes blazing back into hers. ‘You’d better think very carefully about what you say from here on. Believe me, Jo, you don’t want to test me on this.’ His lips hooked up with self-satisfaction. ‘After all, you don’t know what boon I might demand next time.’

She couldn’t look away. ‘What makes
you so sure there’ll be a next time? If those
macarons
turn out perfectly I won’t need your help again.’

‘You still need to master the filling—not to mention the assembling of the tower.’

Heck.

‘And if I hear you make one more disparaging remark about your appearance I promise you, Jo, you
will
be sorry.’

She believed him. He looked utterly and completely forbidding.

* * *

Mac wasn’t sure if anything had ever satisfied him as much as the gobsmacked expression plastered across Jo’s face.

He leaned in closer to her again. ‘You are divine, desirable, and all I can think about is kissing you. And more.
So
much more.’

‘Stop.’ Her voice came out as a hoarse whisper.

‘You know how to make me stop, my beautiful,
beautiful
Jo.’

Her eyes widened.
He could see the struggle she had not to open her mouth and contradict him. His heart twisted at the uncertainty that flashed in her eyes, at the vulnerability she tried to hide. She was one of the most beautiful women he’d ever met and it hurt something inside him that she doubted her loveliness like this.

‘You have a face that poets have only ever dreamed of,’ he continued. ‘And, speaking
of dreams... I dream constantly of unbuttoning your shirt and freeing your pretty breasts from your bra, feasting my gaze on them until I can’t resist, until I lose control and have to touch them, taste them, caress them. I want to give you the same physical pleasure I get from just looking at you. Oh, and, Jo...I dream of you losing control and—’

Her lips slammed to his and Mac was determined
to kiss her until she finally believed she was beautiful.

Except her lips touched his and every thought, his very ability to think, dissolved as if rational thought had never existed. All that was left was sensation. Kissing Jo was like standing on a storm-tossed headland, with the wind whipping past and thunder clapping overhead and lightning creating jagged patterns across the sky. It was
crazy and elemental and not to be withstood.

He didn’t try to withstand it. He’d never felt more alive in all his life.

He curved his hands around her face to deepen the kiss.

‘No hands,’ she murmured against his lips, before her tongue tangled with his and her hands went to the back of his neck to pull him closer.

Where he was hard she was soft. Where he was famished she spread
a banquet at his feet. Where he thirsted, she bathed him in water until he felt quenched. He never wanted to stop. Kissing Jo didn’t just make him feel alive. It made him feel free.

He groaned when she eventually reefed herself out of his arms. She stood there staring at him, her chest rising and falling and her fingers pressed to swollen lips. He reached out a hand to her, but she backed
up and shook her head.

‘Did I hurt you?’ he managed to croak out.

She pulled her hand away. ‘Of course not. I... It’s just—’ She tried to glare, but it didn’t quite come off. ‘I thought you promised me gentlemanly behaviour?’

So had he. ‘I lost my head.’ He glared too. ‘This whole thing we decided...that kissing is a bad idea...that’s a load of hogwash. Kissing you is the best idea
I’ve ever had. I
like
kissing you, Jo. I like it a lot. I think there should be more of it.’

‘No.’

‘Why not?’

The glare she sent him should have withered him. ‘Too complicated, remember?’ she snapped.

She swung away to grab a couple of sodas from the fridge. She set the one he guessed was meant for him on the far side of the table from her. She opened hers and took a long swig.
He couldn’t drag his gaze from the long line of her throat. The longer he watched the thirstier he became.

‘Mac, please stop looking at me like that!’

‘I can’t help it.’

And he didn’t want to help it. Right or wrong, he wanted to get naked with Jo as soon as humanly possible.

‘I want you and I love looking at you.’

She scrubbed a hand down her face. ‘You’re deliberately
trying to make this as difficult as possible.’

‘My body is on fire. If you want to call a halt to things, then fine. That’s your prerogative. But I want your body burning as badly as mine.’

And he could tell from the tight way she held herself that it was. There was a remarkably simple solution to that. She just had to say the word. He continued to gaze at her with naked hunger, hoping
she’d lose control and kiss him again.

If he asked, would she stay? Here at the beach house? With him? He’d just made
macarons
and the world hadn’t caved in. Maybe—

‘Fine,’ she snapped. ‘I’ll simply remove myself from your presence.’

‘You can’t. You have
macarons
in the oven.’

‘Then
you
go somewhere else. Take Bandit for a walk or do some work.’

He shook his head, his
eyes never leaving hers. ‘My house. I can go where I want.’

Her chin shot up and those smoky eyes blazed at him. His mouth watered.

‘You’re determined to remain here with me in the kitchen?’

In answer he merely reached out and took possession of his can of soda.

She slammed herself into a chair. ‘Fine, then I’ll raise something that’s been playing in my mind about Ethan.’

Was she trying to tick him off? Fine. She might find it harder than she thought. ‘And what might that be?’

‘Just for a moment reverse your and Ethan’s situations. Pretend he’s the boss and you’re the apprentice.’

He dragged a hand down his face. If only that were the truth. If only—

‘Imagine you’re the apprentice who screwed up—as apprentices do. Wouldn’t you want to see your
boss? For starters, wouldn’t you want to know he was okay? And, secondly, wouldn’t you want to know he thought you important enough to visit?’

Bile burned his stomach. Jo turned him on like no other woman ever had, but she was going to give him an ulcer too.

‘Or would I just be glad to never have to clap eyes again on the man who ruined my life?’

She folded her arms. ‘Would you
believe your life was ruined? And if you did would you hold anyone else responsible?’

He had no idea, but according to Diana Devlin he had indeed ruined her son’s life.

‘Mac.’ Jo rested her forearms on the table, her eyes dark and troubled. ‘It occurred to me the other day that Ethan might, in fact, be plagued with the same guilt that torments you.’

Every muscle he had froze.

‘
He’s
the one who accidentally let a platter of seafood slide into that vat of oil.
He’s
the direct cause for the start of the fire. You know it was an accident, and I know it was an accident, but does Ethan? Or does he hold
himself
responsible for the whole sorry mess?’

The thought horrified him. ‘He can’t!’

‘Says who?’ She stabbed a finger at him. ‘How would
you
feel if the positions
were reversed?’

His mouth went dry. How
would
he feel if he’d been the one who’d dropped the iced seafood into the hot oil?
Guilty as sin.
His fingers tightened around his can of soda, crushing it. Bubbles fizzed up and over his hand to drip to the floor.

He barely knew Ethan. They’d probably spoken a grand total of twenty words to each other. Like most of the new apprentices he’d been
in awe of Mac.

Mac cursed himself anew for not taking more time to put Ethan at ease for his first couple of appearances on the show.

Jo came to stand in front of him. She smelled of sugar and
macaron
and soda. ‘You want me to believe I’m beautiful.’

‘Because you’re gorgeous,’ he croaked out.

‘And in the same way I want you to realise you’re not responsible for the accident.’