Harlequin Romance April 2015 Box Set (5 page)

‘I was driving past and saw the sign and...well, it suddenly occurred to me that I’m at a point in my life where I can offer a dog a good home.’

Did that make her sound like a stark raving lunatic? Or a responsible, prospective dog owner?

‘Maybe...’ She swallowed. ‘Maybe, Mr Cole, I could bring Bandit to visit you in your new home?’

* * *

Mac paced back and
forth along the veranda. Jo had been gone for over an hour.

An hour!

Anything could have happened to her. His stomach churned. She could be lying in a ditch somewhere. Or wrapped around a tree. What had he been thinking to let her go driving off like that on her own? Had she even driven a performance car before? Why hadn’t he gone with her?

He closed his eyes. He’d have enjoyed
it too much. His hands fisted. If he didn’t keep fighting the distractions this cookbook would never get written.

And he had to finish it.

He gripped the railing and stared out to sea. Jo was capable. She’d be fine. He drew air into his lungs. Of course she’d be fine. She’d just be caught up in the experience.

He knew exactly what that felt like.

He started pacing again. He
hadn’t done any real maintenance on the car since he’d buried himself out here. What if it had broken down? What if she was stuck on the side of the road somewhere? Did she have her phone with her?

He dug out his own phone to check for messages.

Nothing.

At that exact moment he heard the low rumble of the car’s engine and he had to lower himself to the top step as relief punched
through him. He closed his eyes and gave thanks. Jo was his responsibility, and—

Since when?

She was an employee, and that made her his responsibility.

Responsibility
and
a thorn in his side.

Nonetheless, when she parked the car in front of the house it took all his strength to remain where he was rather than leap down the stairs, haul her from the car and hug her. Those would
be the actions of a crazy man. And, despite her first impressions of him, Mac wasn’t crazy.

She bounced out of the car with a grin that held a hint of trepidation and, thorn in his side or not, he silently acknowledged how glad he was to see her.

‘Have fun?’ he managed.

‘I didn’t mean to be gone so long. I hope I didn’t worry you?’ She sent him a wary glance. ‘The car is amazing.’

He tried to tamp down on the rising wave of enthusiasm he felt for the car too. ‘I’m glad it lived up to expectations.’

‘Oh, it exceeded them.’

He closed his eyes and refused to ask her how she’d felt as she’d swept around a wide bend in the road, or what she thought of the vehicle’s magnificent acceleration.

‘But I got a bit distracted.’

He snapped his eyes open and leapt
to his feet. Had she scratched his car?

‘What do you mean—?’

And he found a dog sitting at her feet. His jaw dropped.

‘You put a
dog
in my car?’

‘I... We made sure to use a blanket so Bandit, here, wouldn’t damage the upholstery.’

He stared at her. ‘You put a flea-ridden mutt in my car?’

She grimaced, shifting from one foot to the other.

Get over it, pal
, he
told himself.

Get over it? That car was his most treasured possession! It—

He suddenly flashed to Ethan, in the burns unit at the hospital, and had to lower himself back to the step. He’d give the car up in a heartbeat if it would turn the clock back, if it would change things. But it wouldn’t.

Nothing he could do would achieve that. What did a bit of dog hair matter in the grand
scheme of things?

She moved to sit on the step below him. The dog remained where he was. ‘I know it’s scandalous, Mac—a dog in your precious car. But...’

‘What are we doing with a dog, Jo?’

Her gaze drifted to his scar. He turned that side of his face away from her and pretended to stare out to sea.

‘Is this some underhand attempt to provide me with pet therapy?’

She huffed
out a breath. ‘No.’ She patted her knee. ‘Come on, Bandit.’ The dog remained sitting by the car. ‘I... He’s for me, not you, but I don’t think he likes me very much.’

He glanced at her to find her frowning at the dog.

‘Bandit’s is a sad story...’ She told it to him, and then said, ‘So, you see, when Mr Cole’s face lit up so much at my promise to bring Bandit to visit him
and
he started
crying I had to take Bandit then and there. Mr Cole would’ve fretted and thought me no fit carer for Bandit if I’d insisted on getting The Beast rather than letting him ride in Beauty.’

She’d dubbed his car
Beauty
?

It certainly suited the car. And it suited the woman who’d just driven it.

‘You do see that, don’t you?’

He let out a breath and nodded.

She reached forward
and clasped his hand briefly. ‘Thank you.’ She turned to survey the dog again.

He stared at the hand she’d clasped. He closed it to a fist and tried to stave off the warmth threatening to flood him.

‘Do you think he doesn’t like me because I’m so big?’

‘You’re not big!’

Astonished sage eyes stared into his.

He clicked his fingers. ‘Bandit.’

The dog immediately rose
and leapt up the steps to sit at Mac’s feet. ‘See—I’m bigger than you and he’s fine with it.’

‘But you’re a man, and I’m big for a woman. I expect animals sense those kinds of things.’

‘Nonsense.’

‘He likes you.’

Her crestfallen face told him that she had indeed bought the dog for herself, and not some attempt to lure him out of whatever dark pit of depression she imagined
him in.

‘His previous owner was a man, so it only stands to reason that he’s used to men.’

‘I guess...’

‘Besides, he’ll be missing this Mr Cole of his and not understanding what’s happening.’

‘Oh, yes, the poor thing.’ She reached out and gave the dog a gentle hug and a kiss to the top of his head.

Mac’s heart started to thump when he imagined—

Don’t imagine!

He cleared his throat and tried to clear his mind. ‘Once he works out that you’re the person who feeds him you’ll win both his undying love and his loyalty.’

‘Are dogs really that simple?’ She gave a funny little grimace. ‘I’ve never had one before.’

‘Feed them and treat them with kindness and they’ll love you. End of story. You just need to give him some adjustment time. I’d suggest
you set him up a bed in the kitchen or the laundry, so he doesn’t try and wander off at night to find his old home.’ He shrugged at her questioning glance. ‘Russ and I had dogs when we were growing up.’

‘Thank you.’

She suddenly leaned away from him and it made him realise he’d been talking to her, facing her, with his scar in full view.

‘What are you doing outside anyway? Were
you waiting for me to get back? Oh, I didn’t worry you, did I? I didn’t mean to be longer than twenty or thirty minutes but then—’

‘Not at all.’ His heart pounded. Hard. ‘I was just going for a walk.’ People went to hell for lying as well as he did.

She pressed a hand to her chest. Her lovely, generous chest.

‘That’s a relief. I was worried you’d think I’d made off with your fabulous
car.’ She bit her lip. ‘I don’t suppose Bandit and I could come on that walk too?’

What could he say to that? He glanced out at the beckoning sea, the field of winter grass and wild native flowers, noted the way the breeze rippled through it all and how the sun shone with winter mildness and tried not to let it filter into him, relax him...gladden him.

‘Sure.’

‘I suspect, though,
that you should wear a sunhat to protect you...’ She touched the left side of her face to indicate that she meant his burn scar. ‘From sunburn.’

He should.

‘You go get a hat and I’ll put Beauty in the garage.’

They both rose. Bandit looked at Mac expectantly. Her face fell almost comically.

‘You’re not taking that fleabag in my car again,’ he said to mediate her disappointment
at the dog’s reaction.

‘So much for “It’s just a car, Jo”,’ she muttered, but her lips twitched as she said it. She patted Bandit on the head. ‘You be a good boy. I’ll be back soon.’

She folded herself into the car and her face broke into the biggest grin when she started it up again. She touched the accelerator just for fun and the car roared in instant response.

He turned on his
heel and strode through the house to hide his sudden laughter. ‘Bandit, I hope one day your new mistress gets herself her dream car. She’ll know exactly how to enjoy it.’

Bandit wagged his tail, following Mac all the way through the house and up to his bedroom.

Mac rifled through drawers, looking for a hat. ‘Don’t look at me like that, dog. I’m not your master.
She
is.’

Bandit just
wagged his tail harder. Mac shook his head and slathered sunscreen across his face. What on earth did Jo think she was going to do with a dog?

She was waiting on the veranda when he finally returned. She wore a basketball cap. ‘I always have one in The Beast,’ she explained when he glanced at it. ‘Sunstroke is no laughing matter on a survey camp.’

‘It’s not a laughing matter anywhere,
is it?’

She shrugged and pulled her hand from behind her back to reveal a tennis ball. Bandit started to bark.

‘He came amply provided for.’

With that, she threw the ball and Bandit hurtled after it. She set off after him, turning back after four or five strides.

‘Well? Aren’t you coming?’

The previous two days he’d walked the property line behind the house and away from
the sea. With an internal curse he kicked himself into action, trying not to let the holiday spirit infect him. But when Bandit came back and dropped the ball at Mac’s feet and Jo gave a snort of disgust all he could do was laugh.

‘Shut up and throw the ball for the ungrateful bag of bones.’

So he did.

They walked down a steeply inclined field, and then across level ground, and
the whole time Mac tried to ignore the scent of the sea and the tug of the breeze caressing his face and the feeling of ease that tried to invade him. He hadn’t realised it but he’d grown cramped in the house these last few weeks, and moving now was like releasing a pent-up sigh.

He didn’t deserve to enjoy any of it.

He slammed to a halt. But it was going to prove necessary if he was
to remain healthy. Jo was right about that. And he had to remain healthy. He had a debt to pay off.

‘Are you okay?’

That warm honey voice flowed over him, somehow intensifying the sun’s warmth and the silk of the breeze.

‘Not tired out already, are you?’

He kicked forward again. ‘Of course not.’ That wasn’t to say that the hill on the way back wasn’t going to give him a run
for his money. ‘I’m just...’

‘Yes?’

‘I’m just trying to figure out the best way to apologise for my behaviour on Monday, when you arrived.’

‘Ah.’ She marched up a low sand dune.

He didn’t want to go onto the beach. He hadn’t guarded his privacy so fiercely to blow his cover now. As if sensing his reluctance, she found a flat patch of sand amongst a riot of purple pigface and
sat to watch as Bandit raced down to the water’s edge to chase waves. After a moment’s hesitation he sat beside her. He kept his right side towards her.

‘You
were
expecting me on Monday, weren’t you?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then why the foul temper? You didn’t seriously expect to live under the same roof as someone and manage to avoid them completely, did you?’

Had he? He wasn’t sure, but
he could see now what a ludicrous notion that was. ‘I’ve obviously fallen into bad habits. It wasn’t deliberate, and it certainly wasn’t the object of the exercise.’

‘By
exercise
I suppose you’re referring to holing up out here in royal isolation? What’s the object?’

‘The object is to write this darn cookbook, and I was having a particularly rough day with it on Monday.’

She let
out a breath. ‘And I waltzed in like a...’

‘Like a cyclone.’

‘Wreaking havoc and destruction.’

‘And letting in the fresh air.’

She turned to stare at him. His mouth went dry but he forced himself to continue. ‘You were right. I’ve been shutting myself up for days on end, hardly setting foot outside, and some days barely eating. If you hadn’t shown up and shaken me up I’d have
been in grave danger of falling ill. And I can assure you that’s
not
what I want.’

He wasn’t on a suicide mission.

He readied himself for a grilling—did he mean what he said or was he trying to manipulate her for Russ’s benefit, et cetera, et cetera?

Instead she turned to him, her gaze steady. ‘Why is the cookbook so important?’

CHAPTER FOUR

W
AS
THE
COOKBOOK
a way for Mac to take his mind off the fact he no longer had a television show? No longer had a job? His fisted hands and clenched jaw told her it consumed him, and not necessarily in a good way.

When he didn’t answer she tried again. ‘What’s the big deal with the cookbook, Mac?’

He finally turned to look at her. ‘Money.’

‘You have a
deal with a publisher?’

He gave a single nod before he turned back to stare at the sea.

‘If you hate it that much—’ and she was pretty certain he did ‘—can’t you just...?’ She shrugged. She didn’t know how these things worked. ‘Change your mind? Apologise and pay back the advance?’

‘You don’t understand.’

Obviously not.

‘I
need
the money.’

She had no hope of hiding
her surprise, but she did what she could to haul her jaw back into place in super-quick time. ‘But you must’ve made a truckload of money from your TV show.’

Not to mention all those guest appearances and endorsements. Still, if he’d gone around buying expensive cars willy-nilly she supposed he might have burned through it pretty quickly. Not that it was any of her business. And it wasn’t
any of Russ’s business either.

‘I... Sorry, I just thought you were rolling in it.’

‘I was.’

So what on earth had he done with it all?

She had no intention of asking, but possibilities circled through her mind—bad investments, gambling, living the high life with no thought for the future.

‘It’s all gone on medical bills.’

That had her swinging back. ‘Yours was a workplace
accident.’ It had occurred during the filming of one of his TV episodes. ‘Insurance should’ve taken care of the medical expenses.’

‘Not
my
medical bills, Jo. The money hasn’t gone on
my
medical bills.’

A world of weariness stretched through his voice. And then it hit her. That young apprentice who’d also been involved in the fire. ‘Ethan?’ she whispered.

He didn’t respond with either
a yea or a nay.

She rubbed a hand across her forehead, readjusted her cap. ‘But the insurance should’ve covered his medical expenses too. I—’

He swung to her, his eyes blazing. ‘He’s still in hospital! He still has to wear a bodysuit. His family wanted to move him to a private facility, where he’d get the best of care, but they couldn’t afford the fees.’

Living the high life with
no thought for tomorrow? Oh, how wrong she’d been!

She reached out to clasp his arm. ‘Oh, Mac...’ He’d taken on so much.

He shook her off and leapt to his feet. She pulled her hands into her lap, stung. A man like Mac would resent the sympathy of a woman like her.

Striking, huh?
Yeah, right.

He spun to her, lips twisting. ‘Who should pay but me?
I’m
the reason he’s lying in
a hospital bed with second-and third-degree burns to sixty per cent of his body. I’ve ruined that young man’s life. I’m the guilty party. So the least I can do is—’

‘What a load of codswallop!’ She shot to her feet too. ‘If we want to take this right down to brass tacks it’s the producers and directors of your television show who should be paying in blood.’

Kitchen Encounters
, as Mac’s
television show had been called, had followed the day-to-day dramas of Mac’s catering team as they’d gone from event to event—a charity dinner with minor royalty one week, a wedding the next, then perhaps a gala awards night for some prestigious sporting event. Throughout it all Mac had been portrayed as loud, sweary and exacting—an over-the-top, demanding perfectionist. So over the top that even
if Jo hadn’t had the inside line from Russ she’d have known it was all for show—for the ratings, for the spectacle it created.

That wasn’t how the press had portrayed it after the accident, though. They’d condemned Mac’s behaviour and claimed the
Kitchen Encounters
set had been an accident waiting to happen. All nonsense. But such nonsense sold newspapers in the same way that conflict and
drama sold TV shows.

Mac remained silent. He fell back to the sand, his shoulders slumping in a way that made her heart twist. Standing above him like this made her conscious of her height. She sat again, but a little further away this time, in the hope she wouldn’t do something stupid like reach out and touch him again.

She moistened her lips. ‘Russ told me that the persona you adopted
for the show was fake—that it was what the producers demanded. He also said everyone on the show was schooled in their reactions too.’

Conflicts carefully orchestrated, as in any fictional show or movie, to create drama, to create good guys and bad guys. Some weeks Mac had played the darling and others the villain. It had led to compulsive viewing.

‘The accident wasn’t your fault. You
were playing the role you were assigned. You weren’t the person who dropped a tray of oysters and ice into a pot of hot oil.’ That had been Ethan. ‘It was an accident.’ A terrible, tragic accident.

‘For God’s sake, Jo, I was yelling at him—bellowing at him to hurry up. He was nineteen years old, it was only his second time on the show, and he was petrified.’

He didn’t yell or bellow
now. He spoke quietly, but there was a savage edge to his words that she suspected veiled a wealth of pain.

‘He was acting. Just like you were.’

‘No.’

He turned and those eyes lasered through her. Blond hair the colour of sand, blue eyes the colour of the sea, and olive skin that was still too pale. His beauty hit her squarely in the chest, making it hard to breathe.

‘He was
truly petrified. I just didn’t realise until it was too late.’

She gripped her hands tightly in her lap to stop them from straying. ‘From all accounts if you hadn’t acted so quickly to smother the fire Ethan would be dead.’ The other actors on the set had labelled Mac a hero.

‘He hasn’t thanked me for that, Jo.’

It took a moment for her to realise what he meant. She stared out to
sea and blinked hard, swallowing the lump that was doing its best to lodge in her throat.

‘Do you know how painful his treatment is? It’s like torture.’

‘He’s young,’ she managed to whisper. ‘One day this will all be behind him.’

‘And he’ll be disfigured for life. All because I played the game the TV producers wanted—all because I was hungry for ratings and success and acclaim.
At any time I could’ve said no. I could’ve demanded that we remain true to the “reality” part of our so-called reality show. I could’ve demanded that everyone on set be treated with courtesy and respect.’

If he had, she suspected the show wouldn’t have lasted beyond a single season.

‘I didn’t. I chose not to.’

There was nothing wrong with wanting to be successful, with wanting praise
and applause for a job well done. If anyone took a poll she’d bet ninety-nine per cent of the population wanted those things too.

‘My pursuit of ratings has ruined a boy’s life.’

And now he was doing all he could to make amends, to make Ethan’s life as comfortable as he could. She shuddered to think how expensive those medical bills must be. She didn’t believe for a moment that Mac should
hold himself responsible, but neither did she believe she had any hope of changing his mind on that.

What a mess!

One thing seemed certain, though. If he didn’t ease up he’d become ill. At least he seemed to recognise that fact now.

Or was that just a clever manipulation on his behalf so she wouldn’t go telling tales to Russ?

She glanced at Mac from the corner of her eye as
Bandit came racing up from the beach, tongue lolling out and fur wet from the surf. He collapsed at Mac’s feet, looking the epitome of happy, satisfied dog. If only she could get a similarly contented expression on Mac’s face her job here would be done.

Unbidden, an image punched through her, so raunchy that she started to choke. That
wasn’t
what she’d meant! She leapt to her feet and strode
a few steps away. Mac would laugh his head off if he could read her mind at the moment.

Laughter is good for the soul.

Yeah, well, in this instance it would shrivel hers.

She put the image out of her mind, pulled in a breath and turned to face him. His gaze was fixed on her hips. He stared for another two beats before he started. Colour slashed high across his cheekbones.

Had he been checking out her butt?

She wiped her hands down her jeans. Ridiculous notion.

But he couldn’t meet her gaze, and then she couldn’t meet his. She stared up at the sky. ‘So what’s the problem you’ve been having with your recipes?’

‘They’re complicated.’

‘Naturally. It’s one of the reasons your show was so gripping. There seemed to be so many things that could go wrong
with each individual dish.’

‘I promised the publisher a troubleshooting section for each recipe.’

That sounded challenging.

‘I’m not a writer!’ He dragged both hands back through his hair. ‘This stuff—the explanations—doesn’t come naturally to me. I don’t know if they’re coherent, let alone if a lay person could follow them.’

And if he refused to actually cook the dishes then
how much harder was he making this on himself? He’d always proclaimed himself an instinctive chef. Just getting the order right of when to do what must be a nightmare.

It hit her then. How she could help him. And how he could help her.

She moistened her lips. ‘Why don’t you give me the drafts of your recipes and we’ll see if I can make them? See if they make sense to me?’

She shifted
her gaze to Bandit—it was easier than looking at Mac—but she couldn’t help but notice how Mac’s feet stilled where they’d been rubbing against Bandit’s back.

‘You’d do that?’

Forcing in a breath, she met his gaze. His eyes held hope, and something else she couldn’t decipher. ‘I’ll try, but you have to understand that I’m no cook.’

‘You’re the perfect demographic.’

She was?

‘A plain cook who wants to branch out and try her hand at something new—something more complicated and exotic.’

That wasn’t her at all. She just wanted to learn how to make a
macaron
tower.

‘This would help me out. A lot.’

And her too, she hoped. He might refuse to stand side by side with her in a kitchen and show her how to make fiddly little
macarons
, but he might be worked
on to create a sensible, within the realms of possible,
macaron
recipe for her.

‘If you’re sure?’ he added.

So much for the demanding, overbearing kitchen tyrant. Russ had always chortled at Mac’s on-air tantrums. She was starting to see why.

‘As long as you’re prepared to eat the odd disaster for dinner if things don’t always work out.’

‘What the heck? We’ve always got fish
fingers to fall back on.’

She laughed.

‘What if I give you the first recipe tomorrow?’

She nodded. And then glanced around at the lengthening shadows and shivered a little. The warmth quickly leached from the air as the afternoon closed in.

‘Speaking of dinner, I’ll need to get back and start it soon.’ The beef stew she’d planned needed to simmer for at least an hour and a
half.

‘And I should get a bit more work done.’

He moved to get up and she started to offer him her hand, and then snatched it back, remembering the way he’d shaken off her touch earlier.

Mac’s gaze narrowed and he leant back on his hands, peering up at her from beneath the brim of his hat. ‘Did my lascivious gaze earlier embarrass you?’

She almost swallowed her tongue. His
what
? So he
had
been...? Was he saying...? Surely not!

‘Of course not,’ she lied.

He rose to his feet in one smooth motion. Bandit immediately leapt to his feet too. ‘I did tell you that you were a striking woman.’

She snorted and turned towards the house. ‘You’ve been stuck out here on your own for too long.’

Without warning, cool, firm fingers gripped the suddenly overheated
flesh of her forearm, pulling her to a halt. ‘And you’re selling yourself short.’

No, she wasn’t. She just knew what she was. And she wasn’t the kind of woman who turned men’s heads. Mac was just trying to charm her, manipulate her.

‘I should put your mind at rest, though.’ He stroked her skin with his index finger before releasing her. ‘I want to assure you that you’re perfectly safe
from unwanted attention. I have no intention of thrusting myself on you. I do mean to act like a perfect gentleman towards you, Jo.’

She wished he hadn’t used the term
thrusting
.

She drew herself up to her full height but he still towered over her. ‘No other scenario occurred to me, I assure you.’

‘Good.’ His eyes twinkled for a moment. ‘It doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy looking at
you, though.’

Jo stumbled. Mac laughed. Bandit barked and raced off towards the house.

* * *

Mac paced back and forth outside the kitchen door.

Jo peered around the doorway. ‘You
can
come in and watch, you know. You could sit at the table.’

If he did that he’d bark instructions at her the moment she started. He’d make her nervous and she’d have an accident and burn herself.
His stomach churned at the thought. If he sat in the kitchen he wouldn’t be able to resist the temptation to take over.

He didn’t deserve to indulge his passion when a boy lay in a hospital bed, suffering because of that passion.

‘So, all I’m doing at the moment is infusing these few ingredients for the béarnaise sauce I’m to make tonight, right?

‘That’s right.’

‘And—’

‘No questions,’ he ordered. ‘I need to know if you can follow the recipe.’

‘Okay—gotcha.’

He couldn’t have said why, but her earnest expression made him want to kiss her.

He could just imagine how she’d recoil from
that
. He grimaced, and tried to push the thought from his mind, but it didn’t stop the itch and burn that coursed through his body.