The Apple Tree (20 page)

She took a deep breath. It was done, no going back now.

What would Levi think about Peter coming over? It wasn’t like she and Levi were together. They hadn’t even kissed, although she wanted to more than she’d like to admit.

But she had no intention of doing anything with Peter today except hanging out as friends and taking some photographs for her blog. That was it. Everything would be fine.

She pulled a mixing bowl from the cupboard and worked on the muffins while waiting for him to arrive.

Her mother still lay upstairs in bed and Owen clung to Bianca’s leg. “Come on, Owen, go play. I’m busy.”

He whined, yanking on her jeans until they slid off her butt.

“
Owen, stop!” She pulled her pants back up and then put a cartoon on in the living room to keep him occupied. Normally, she didn’t use the TV as a babysitter, but desperate times and all that.

Just as she placed the muffin pan in the oven, a knock sounded at the front door. She wiped her hands on a towel, smoothed her hair and walked toward the entryway.

Peter leaned against the threshold with hands shoved in the pockets of a leather jacket and the corner of his mouth curved in a sexy smirk. His camera bag hung over his shoulder.

This would be a lot easier if he didn’t look like a movie star. “Hi. Come in.”

He stepped through the door and winked. “I knew you’d want me back, eventually.”

Her eyebrows rose and she slapped palms on her hips. “Excuse me? I could still ask you to leave.”

He laughed and held up a hand. “Okay, okay. But remember, you need me. Besides, I’m only joking.” They passed Owen on their way to the kitchen. “You have a kid?”

“
That’s my brother.”

“
Oh, yeah. You mentioned him.” He looked around the kitchen.
The scent of sweet blueberries had just begun to drift from the oven. “Smells wonderful in here.”

“
Blueberry muffins. Just wait until you taste one.” She leaned against the counter. “They’ll be done in a couple minutes.”

A dark brow rose and his blue eyes gleamed. “That’s not all I want to taste.”

She stepped back and rolled her eyes. “Smooth.”

“
Sorry.”
His finger crossed his heart like he was making a vow. “I’m on my best behavior. Promise.”

She smiled at his harmless antics. He moved fast, but he’d never actually force her to do anything, right?

The timer rang and she pulled the muffins from the oven, setting them on the cooling rack. They stood over them, inhaling the fresh baked aroma.

He removed his jacket and tossed it across the counter. “My job is going to be easy, those look delicious. I should probably wait till they cool though, so the lens doesn’t get all steamy.” A slow grin spread across his face at the last word and a dimple sunk into his cheek.

Yep, this was a bad idea. A bad, bad idea.

He licked his lips and glanced around the room until his gaze rested on the mail basket. Walking across the kitchen, he lifted the photo Kate brought earlier. “What’s this?”

Could he know anything about the weird doppelganger thing? “It’s just some photo Kate found. Maybe Levi’s great-grandfather or something. I guess it could be your grandfather too. How are you guys cousins anyway?”

“
My father is his mother’s brother,” Peter said absentmindedly, examining the photo and then shrugged. “Looks just like him.” He tossed it back in the basket. “So, you think they’ve cooled off yet?”

Maybe he didn’t know anything. Or he didn’t want to say. She glanced toward the muffins. “Yeah, probably.” Opening the cupboard, she removed a plain, green plate.

He chuckled. “You’re clueless, aren’t you?”

Her mouth dropped open. “Why are you so mean?”

His laughter stopped, but humor lingered in his eyes. “I’m teasing. Calm down.” He reached for the plate in her hands.

She narrowed her eyes and held it away from his reach. “What are you talking about? Why am I clueless?”

“
You passed over several nice white plates and chose this ugly green one.” He pointed toward the plate. “This would work in a pinch, but the white will look much nicer with the color of the muffins.”

She frowned and replaced the green plate in the cupboard, pulling out a white one instead. Peter was right, the muffins looked really pretty stacked on the plain white plate.

“
Let’s set it over there, under the light from the window.” He waved toward a patch of countertop and removed his camera from the bag.

She set the plate where he’d motioned and then stood back, watching him work. His cotton shirt pulled tight across his toned back as he bent forward to capture the photograph. She bit her lip and made herself look away.

“
Ready to try one?” she asked, once he was finished.

He leaned against the counter, only inches away from her. “Sure am. My mouth is watering just looking at them.”

She handed him a muffin, taking one for herself as well.

He pulled the paper wrapping back and took a bite. “Oh my God. This is good.”

“
Of course it is.” She bit into the muffin.

One dark brow rose on his handsome face. “Confident much?”

She shrugged. “Hey, if you’re going to be all arrogant about your photography skills, then I’m going to do the same about my baking.”

Laughing, he took another bite. “Fair enough.”

Watching him enjoy the muffin sent a wave of guilt through her. Although she wasn’t officially dating Levi, this felt wrong. She shouldn’t stand here and admire this sexy man when she had feelings for Levi. Swallowing the last of her muffin, she set the wrapper on the counter.

Peter moved toward her, taking her hand as the pounding in her chest increased. This was wrong. So wrong. So wrong. She needed to ask him to leave. But his touch made her skin tingle all the way down to her toes.

His deep sea eyes searched her face as his hand slid up her arm, gently tracing a path to her neck and sending a shiver through her body.

She closed her eyes. “What do you want from me?”

“
What do I want from you?” He grabbed her other shoulder and pushed her back against the counter, leaning his body into hers. “I want you. All of you. Naked and trembling with pleasure. Is that too damn much to ask?”

Her mouth dried as images of what he’d said streamed through her mind. One second they’d been talking and now this. She swallowed. “Yes. It is too much to ask, because I know it won’t mean the same thing to you.”

“
Don’t you get it, Bianca? It would mean everything to me.” He enunciated every word of the last sentence, gazing into her eyes like a famine victim searching for bread. “Dammit! I’m not talking about a one night stand. I will always want you.”

“
How many girls has that line worked on, Casanova?” She bit her lip and pinched the fabric of his black dress shirt between her fingers. His body still pressed against hers and he smelled… so inviting, like leather, cedar and something else that was all him.

“
You’re right. I’ve been with a lot of women, but ever since I met you, I can’t think about anyone else. I only want you. Wait.” He pulled away just a couple of inches. “Are you a virgin? Is that why you’re so reluctant?”

She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath before she spoke. “No, I’m not. But you want to know what happened? I gave my virginity to some stupid guy who left without saying goodbye and then never spoke to me again. So, yes… I’m reluctant to repeat the experience.”

He stared out the window for several seconds before turning his gaze back to her. “I’ve probably done that to women before.” His palm cupped her cheek. “But I won’t do that to you. We’re both hurting, but we can heal each other. We need each other.”

Running her hand along the hard muscles of his chest, she imagined, yet again, what he’d look like with all his designer clothes tossed to the floor. Her breath hitched and she closed her eyes. Levi’s image appeared, chasing away her fantasies of the sexy photographer.

She wanted Levi. “Why does this have to be about sex? Why can’t we just hang out?”

“
Everything is about sex.” He pulled her tighter and slipped his hands down her hips.

That was probably true, for him. The man oozed sex from every pore on his body. “This is so ridiculous. Why do you want me so bad?” She tried to wiggle free from his grasp, but he only held her tighter.

“
Because you’re just like her.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he looked away, cursing under his breath.

“
Excuse me? Just like who? Your wife?” She jerked away and this time he didn’t resist. She walked across the kitchen. “You want me, because I remind you of your dead wife. That is so sick.”

Her mother appeared at the kitchen entrance, dressed in sweatpants and her hair a tangled mess. “What’s going on?”

“
Nothing, he was just leaving.” Bianca turned away from them both and leaned over the sink.

“
I guess, I am.” Peter grabbed his jacket and camera bag and then stormed toward the front door, slamming it behind him.

P
eter flung the door to his condo closed, throwing his keys in the bowl. Bianca’s scent hung on his shirt, like warm sugar and a dash of cinnamon. He groaned as he inhaled. Clara had always smelled of food. He went straight to the bedroom and collapsed on the unmade mattress, closing his eyes as the memories flooded him.

Three months after they’d married, Peter stepped into the tiny one room cabin he’d built for his new wife with the help of his best friend and cousin, Levi. Someday he’d build her something nicer. She deserved better, something bigger with lots of rooms they could fill with playing children.

He smiled and tossed his hat on the rocking chair by the fire, as he watched Clara leaning over the wooden table, kneading dough.

She turned her head and a smile spread across her lips. Her chestnut eyes glittered as she gazed at him. Her arm muscles flexed, working the dough, pushing it down and over and down again. Flour covered her hands and little splotches dirtied her apron. “Welcome home, Mr. Cabrera.” Her voice sounded pleasant and sweet.

His breath caught as he stood back a moment, admiring her. Clara was the most beautiful woman he’d ever set eyes on, and she was all his. “Mrs. Cabrera.” He crossed the room and wrapped his arms around her waist.

She giggled. “Peter, you’re going to get flour all over you.” She held her hands out so the sticky dough wouldn’t touch his clothes.

He buried his head into her golden hair, inhaling the burnt woodsy smell from the fireplace she’d worked over, mixed with the scent of fresh bread. “I don’t care, these are my work clothes. Touch me.”

She placed her hands on each side of his face, bits of dough stuck on the stubble that dotted his cheeks. “You’re not the one who will have to wash them,” she teased, placing her lips on his.

He groaned, lifting her up onto the table and pushed her legs apart, pressing himself against her.

Her legs wrapped around him. “I love you, Peter. I’m yours, forever.”

Peter clutched a pillow to his chest, trying to hold in the pieces of his heart that crumbled with the pain of more than a century without her.