Keeping Her Guilty Secret (Forever Yours Trilogy) (3 page)

Chapter 4

The next afternoon, Nicole belted out the tune blasting from the radio as she removed the oil filter from the car. Normally, the repair shop would deal with the messy job, but she no longer had that luxury and was grateful her father showed her how to do basic car maintenance. Now, every penny counted.

With a free hand, she reached out, groped for the empty container, slid it into place, and unscrewed the cap.

The swift rap on the hood had her jerking the can sideways. A stream of dirty oil poured down onto her. “Damn it!” After sliding out from underneath the car, she jumped to her feet. “What the he—?”

Max stood in front of her, large as life, a wide grin on his handsome face. Her heart skipped a beat, and, Jeez Louise, a smile as charming as his should be illegal. It wasn’t fair. It made her feel all warm and tingly inside and believe in happily-ever-afters and . . .
No, no, no.
She’d been down this road before and gotten nothing but heartache for her troubles. Why did she keep forgetting that?

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I called out, but I guess you didn’t hear me over the loud music. Great voice, by the way.”

He heard her
singing
? Heat crept up her neck and flooded her cheeks.
Great. Just great.
What was he doing here, anyway?

He leaned in toward her. A hint of his cologne drifted past her nostrils. He smelled good. Really good.

She stared up at him and her stomach fluttered. Gorgeous, and smelled good.
Oh my.

“Nicole?”

Good God, focus woman.

“Yes?”

“I said, it’s a good thing you had these on to protect you.”

She peered down at her oversized coveralls and groaned. “Oh, I’ll never get this out.”

“I really am sorry,” he said again, but couldn’t quite hide another grin.

“No, you’re not. And don’t you dare laugh at me. This is your fault.” She wiped her hands, took off the hat covering her hair, and began to unzip the coveralls. “This is gross. I’m going inside to clean up.”

“Hey, wait. I need to speak with you.”

“Fine, but you’ll have to wait until I change.” She opened the door to the kitchen and gestured for him to enter. “You can wait in the living room.”

“Thanks.”

He stepped by her, and she drew in a sharp breath. Gorgeous, he smelled good, and those faded jeans, brown leather bomber jacket and aviator sunglasses . . . Sexy as all get out. She sighed.

Twenty minutes later, Nicole came back downstairs dressed in a pair of old faded jeans, her favorite, and an emerald green sweater. She peered around the living room, but Max was nowhere to be found.

A crash in the garage had her hurrying through the kitchen. She yanked open the connecting door and found him, poised over several old paint cans.

“What on earth?”

“Sorry,” he said. “I accidentally knocked them off the shelf.”

He bent down, she assumed to retrieve the cans, and a loud tearing sound filled the air. He froze. The seam, which ran from the collar of the coveralls he’d donned down to his rear end had split wide open. She let out a bark of laughter.

Max jerked upright, his face flaming red.

“Why are you wearing my coveralls?” she asked.

“They were the only ones I could find and I needed to protect my clothes.”

The coveralls she’d worn earlier, her father’s old pair that she wore for sentimental reasons, would have been a better fit for him. Hers were almost a foot too short and the sleeves barely made it past his elbows. He’d zipped the front, but the strain on the fabric must have been too much when he bent over. “Protect your clothes from what?”

He gave a light tug on the fabric. “From any splatters. I finished changing your oil. I figured it was the least I could do, all things considered.”

“You did?”

He nodded.

Her lips curved into a big smile. Handsome, smelled good, hot, even in a pair of too-small coveralls, and nice, too. A hard combination to resist.
No! Not getting involved.
“Thank you.”

He stepped out of the protective garment, rolled it up, and threw it in the trash. “You’re welcome. And I’ll replace these for you.”

“Don’t worry about it. I don’t wear them anyway.” A gust of wind blew through the open garage door. She stepped by him and swung the door down, then rubbed her shoulders to ward off the sudden chill. “Let’s go back inside.”

Max picked up the cans he’d knocked over, placed them back on the shelf, and followed.

Once inside, Nicole walked to the pantry, grabbed what was left of the bag of potatoes, then dumped them in the sink. “You said you wanted to talk.” She washed each one, set them atop a dry towel on the counter, and began to peel.

He gave her a speculative glance.

Oh yes. Should never have kissed him.

“It’s about the wedding.”

The wedding. Ash and Reed. Not the kiss they’d shared. Okay, good. “Fine. I hope you don’t mind talking while I get dinner ready.”

“You cook?”

She wiggled her eyebrows. “It usually helps if I want to eat.” When the potatoes were peeled, she went to the freezer and grabbed the three round cakes she’d made last weekend then, after setting each on the counter, went to the fridge for two packages of cream cheese.

Max came over and peered down at the items. “What do we have here?”

“A three-tier carrot cake with cream cheese frosting when I’m done.”

“Homemade?”

She smiled. “From scratch. Its Ash’s favorite. I made it because she’s home this week.”

“You made this?”

“Yes.”

His eyes widened. “From scratch?”

She laughed. Hadn’t she just said as much? “Yeah.”

“It must have taken hours.”

“No. About twenty minutes to make the batter and then another thirty-five to forty to bake. It’ll take me another fifteen minutes or so to whip up the frosting once the cream cheese softens and a few minutes more to frost the cake.”

“Why did you freeze it?”

“In this case because I made the cakes last weekend. But mostly because it’s much easier to frost when the cakes are hard. They don’t fall apart as easily.”

Max nodded. “You seem to know a lot about baking.”

“It’s one of my hobbies. I like making gourmet desserts.”

“Funny, I like eating desserts, gourmet or simple.”

He flashed another of his devastating grins and, heaven help her, this time she did go a little weak in the knees. “I’ll keep that in mind. I’m always looking for a guinea pig to taste my new creations.”

“So let me get this straight. You’re a project manager, you design wedding gowns, you cook family dinners and make homemade gourmet desserts from scratch, and you can do an oil change. Is there anything you don’t do?”

She stared at him and gave what she hoped passed for a deadpan expression. “I don’t do windows.”

He laughed, a rich, warm, baritone vibration that came from deep within. The sound sent little tingles down her spine and made her grin.

“Where do you find the time?”

“I only cook one big meal a week, on Sundays. With our crazy schedules, it’s the only day my sisters and I can get together, and even that is hard to do with Ashley’s school over four hours away. I only make desserts for special occasions.”

“You make a family dinner every Sunday? Even when it’s only you and Kate?”

She nodded. “My mother started the tradition when we were little. No matter what, everyone had to be home for Sunday dinner.”

“That’s a nice tradition.”

“Yes, it is, although I have to admit I thought it was pretty corny when I was a teenager. I’m glad now she insisted.”

“How old were you when they died?” he asked softly.

She closed her eyes for a brief moment and drew in a steadying breath. Six years later, and the car accident that took their lives still haunted her. “I’d just turned twenty.”

“Too young an age to take on the responsibility of raising two sisters.”

She gave him a little laugh. “I didn’t do it all alone. I had Grams, my maternal grandmother, for a little while. I really couldn’t have done it without her. She let us move in here with her after I had to sell my parents’ house, which allowed me to go to night school and get a business degree. It took me three years, but I did it. I just wish she’d lived long enough to see me graduate.”

He leaned his elbows down on the counter at watched as she beat the cream cheese and sugar for the frosting in a mixing bowl.

“I thought you went to school for fashion design?”

“That’s how I started out, but after the accident, I needed something more practical so I worked days and took business classes each semester at night.”

“You’re a pretty amazing lady.”

She shook her head. “Not really. I just did what had to be done.”
And if I hadn’t screwed up things would have been easier for everyone involved.
Time to change the subject.

“What about you? Did you have any family traditions?”

Max tilted his head to the side as if contemplating the question. “Not really. It was only Mom and me for a long time until Ken came along.”

After covering the bottom cake with icing, Nicole added the next layer and repeated the process. He’d mentioned Reed’s father, but not his own. Why? Had his parents split when he was little and he never got to see his dad? She couldn’t imagine that. It had just about killed her when she and her father had quarreled over her dropping out of college to take the internship with designer Christina D’Agata. “What happened to your father?” The words were out of her mouth before her brain could stop them and, Jeez Louise, what had possessed her to ask such a question? She didn’t need to get up close and personal with him. “Forget I asked.”

He smiled. “No, it’s okay. My dad died before I was born.”

Nicole sucked in a deep breath. “I’m sorry. How did he die?”

“A heart defect, but he didn’t know. One day after mowing the lawn, he had a massive heart attack and died. He was only thirty-two.”

Nicole shuddered. “That’s awful.”

“Yes, but it was harder on my mother than me.”

“It’s too bad you never got to meet him.”

“Still, I’m a lucky man. Max Paradis Senior may have been my father, but Ken McNamara has always been my dad.”

Nicole smiled. Good-looking, smelled delicious, sinfully sexy, kind, and he liked his parents. Almost too good to be true. “Ken and Audrey are great people.”

He nodded. “Yes, they are.”

The front door opened.

“We’re back,” Ashley called from the living room. A moment later she entered the kitchen and Reed followed behind. “It smells fantastic in here. When’s dinner going to be ready?”

Nicole checked her watch. “The roast has another twenty minutes or so, maybe less.”

“Great, I’m starving,” Ashley said. “Reed, honey, help me set the table?”

Reed nodded.

“How many place settings do we need?”

“You staying?” Reed asked Max.

He shook his head. “I don’t want to intrude.”

Ashley lifted her hand and gave a little wave. “Who’s intruding? You’re family now.”

He hesitated for a moment, and Nicole held her breath waiting for him to answer, then he turned a smile in her direction.

“Yes, I’d love to.”

A rush of warmth flooded through her and she found herself grinning up at him. Oh yes, trouble with a capital T.

Reed aimed a speculative glance in Max’s direction. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to talk to Nicole about the wedding. I assume she’ll be the maid of honor and you’ve already asked me to be best man.”

“Um, actually . . .” Ashley peered up at Nicole, a sheepish look on her face. “I want Kate to be my maid of honor. I want you to give me away.”

“Me?”

Ashley nodded. “Who else would I ask? Without you, I’m not sure I would have gotten through these past six years. You’re the only person I’d even consider.”

Her eyes filled with tears and she gave Ashley a watery smile. “Of course, I’ll give you away. I’d be honored.”

Ashley rushed over and hugged her tight. “I’m so glad. I wasn’t sure you’d do it.”

“Why?”

“I thought you’d have your heart set on being the maid of honor. We had it all planned out when we were kids. Remember?”

Nicole laughed. “That’s right, we did.” Her smile faded. “A lot has changed since then.”

Ashley eased away, wiped her own eyes, and went to the cabinet to grab a stack of plates. “Yeah, it has.”

The timer dinged and Nicole hurried to the stove. She pulled open the oven door and the heavenly aroma of seasoned roast beef filled the air. She checked the meat thermometer and then peered up at the others. “Cooked to perfection.” She lifted the pan and set it on the counter, then went to the stove to check on the potatoes. “These have a few more minutes.”

“Is there anything else I can help with?” Max asked.

“Can you make gravy?” she asked hopefully.

Reed snorted. “I’ll do it. Max here could burn a pot of water.”