On Lavender Lane (11 page)

“I didn’t know anyone was here.” A yellow pencil was stuck behind his ear, drawing attention to the unruly sun-streaked hair she’d once loved to comb her fingers through. “Sofia said she was going shopping.”

“She was.” Madeline gestured toward the note on the fridge. “Is,” she corrected.

“So I figured the house was unoccupied.”

Did Lucas Chaffe have to look so damn good? Couldn’t he have gotten fat? Okay, his work as a SEAL running around in the mountains of Afghanistan—the last she’d heard from Sofia, who insisted on updating her on everyone in town, even someone she had absolutely no interest in—undoubtedly kept him fit. But couldn’t he have at least lost some of that thick hair?

“Obviously you figured wrong.”

“It appears so.…Would you mind doing me a favor?”

“What?”

“Could you put that down?” He lowered his gaze from her face to the carving knife she’d forgotten she was still holding. “I’ve seen Taliban terrorists who don’t have knives as big and sharp as that one.”

“I suspect that’s an exaggeration. Besides, I wouldn’t think a big, bad SEAL would be afraid of a simple carving knife,” she said even as she laid it on the butcher-block countertop. “What are you doing here?”

She couldn’t imagine Lucas robbing anyone, let alone her grandmother. Then again, he was certainly still outrageously handsome enough to play the movie role of a cat burglar. Though, she noticed, studying him more carefully, his face was leaner, more chiseled than it had been ten years ago. During the intervening years, he’d gone from a hot boy to a man.

Eyes, which had always reminded her of the melted chocolate in s’mores, narrowed. “Sofia didn’t tell you?”

“I wouldn’t have asked if she had.” Though she had mentioned an exciting adventure.
Omitting,
Madeline noted,
his name.

“She wants to turn this place into a restaurant.”

“You’re kidding.” Madeline looked around the cozy country kitchen she’d spent five wonderful years of her life in.

“I was kind of surprised, too. But that’s what she says. And she hired me to help her make it happen.”

“Since when do Navy SEALs cook?”

He laughed at that. The rich, deep, all-too-familiar sound sent waves of emotion flooding through her. Pain. Anger. And, dammit, an unbidden, knee-weakening burst of hormones so strong it had her reaching for the edge of the counter for balance.

“She said she’s going to start interviewing cooks in the next month or so. As for me, other than heating up an MRE, which is military speak for meals ready to eat, more commonly referred to as Meals Rejected by the Enemy—and believe me,
you’d
never want to try them—I’m pretty much sunk.

“Jake, down at the Crab Shack, rubs his hands in glee when he sees me coming. I suspect he’s got his eye on a new fishing boat. And I’ll probably end up funding Kara and Sax’s kid’s college tuition with takeout from Bon Temps.”

“Kara’s pregnant?”

Her grandmother had caught her up on how Kara had come back to town with a son, and was now engaged to Shelter Bay’s former bad boy, who just happened to be a former SEAL teammate of the man who’d invaded Sofia’s kitchen. But she hadn’t mentioned a pregnancy.

“Not that I know of. Though I wouldn’t be surprised if she was. You pretty much risk pheromone overdose being anywhere in the proximity of those two lovebirds.”

Although he’d broken her heart, then stomped on it, Madeline felt her lips threatening to curve. “That’s sweet. They were such good friends in high school. It’s nice they ended up together.”

“Yeah. They’re good people who’ve both been through a lot and deserve to be happy. Though it was a bitch Kara lost Jared. I guess Sofia told you about that?”

Madeline nodded. “It must have been awful for her.”

And, she admitted, put her own failed relationships more in perspective. As bad as being cheated on was—and
it felt like hell—she couldn’t imagine losing her husband and the father of her child to murder.

“I’m sure it was about the worst thing that could happen,” he agreed. “Which is why seeing the two of them together, with Sax playing dad to Jared and Kara’s son, is so cool.”

“I’m sorry about your father.” Sofia had called her about Duncan Chaffee’s unexpected death while she’d been packing for her trip to Omaha. As much as she still disliked Lucas for what he’d done to her, she never would have wished this pain on him.

He shrugged shoulders that appeared wider, more muscled than when she’d loved running her hands over them. Before continuing and moving them down the smooth, warm flesh of his back, and…

Madeline gave herself a stiff mental shake. Reminded herself that she was not the romantic girl she’d once been. The teenager who’d been forced to rebuild her life from the ashes of the pyre that had been what she’d honestly believed to be true, forever-after love.

Will you never learn?

“Yeah…well…” To the young girl she’d once been, the two-years-older Lucas had always seemed so confident. So sure of himself. It was strange to see him struggling now.

“Dad had a good life, you know. Actually, a pretty great life, with a few hard speed bumps along the way.” He shook his head. And although it might have been a trick of the sunlight reflecting off the water outside the window, Madeline thought she saw a suspicious sheen in his eyes. “Damn.”

He dumped the tape and clipboard on the table and thrust a hand through his hair. “It hurts, Maddy.” The fingers of his other hand, which she could still remember exploring every inch of her body, splayed across his heart. “It hurts like hell.”

Even as Madeline fought against it, she could feel that
lingering resentment she’d kept buried inside her starting to crumble, like a sand castle at high tide.

Please, no!
She didn’t want to care about any man right now. Not her cheating, lying, gold-digging husband. And definitely not Lucas.

But old habits, and, it appeared, old feelings, died hard.

“I’m sorry,” she said again.

To keep from touching him, from putting her arms around him and trying to soothe, not as a former lover, but as the friend she’d once been, she jammed her hands into the pockets of the flannel pajamas she’d forgotten, until now, that she was wearing. “He was always so sweet to me. And I know how hard it is to lose a parent.”

“It had to be worse for you. Hell, you lost both parents. When you were a lot younger than I am.”

“I’m not sure comparisons matter when your heart feels broken.”

“Good point. Thanks.” His smile was a ghost of the one that had always warmed her from the inside out. The one that caused that sexily adorable crease in his cheek.

It was her turn to shrug. “So, if you’re not going to be my grandmother’s new cook, I take it you’re doing the remodeling work?”

She remembered him puttering around the cottage with his dad. Remembered him telling her that while he enjoyed working with his hands and enjoyed the satisfaction of seeing something he’d helped build turn into a reality, he didn’t want to follow Duncan Chaffee into architecture.

Architects spend way too much time in stuffy offices,
he’d told her that long-ago summer.
Designing things other people end up getting to build. I admire my dad more than anyone I know, but his life wouldn’t work for me. I might not have a handle on what I’m going to end up doing, Maddy. But I do know, whatever it is, it’s gotta be something where I can be hands-on.

“That’s the plan,” he said now. “My father retired a few
months ago. The idea was for the two of us to go into business together, restoring old houses.”

“That sounds like a good plan.”

“It was a great plan,” he said. “And I might still consider it down the road. But, to be honest, my heart isn’t into doing that right now. Not without him, since it was his idea in the first place. So I was sort of at loose ends yesterday when your grandmother offered me the job.”

Suspicion stirred. “What time?”

“What time, what?”

“What time did she make the offer?”

“Oh.” He rubbed his lightly stubbled jaw. “Let me think. She told me, while we were all on Cole’s boat, scattering Dad’s ashes at sea, that she wanted to talk to me about something. But she didn’t actually tell me what she had in mind until the memorial supper, here last night.”

Not that many hours after Madeline’s world had exploded.

Surely her grandmother, who knew the story of that long-ago Labor Day breakup, wouldn’t already be matchmaking? Not with the one man Madeline had sworn never to speak with again? Ever?

And yeah, so far you’re sticking to that vow real well.

She had just determined that she was going to have to be tougher when she found herself drowning in chocolate brown eyes.

“I’m sorry as hell what happened between you and the Frenchman,” he said. The sympathy in his gaze seemed genuine. It wasn’t a gooey pity, but that of the friend he’d been before she’d admittedly pushed him into intimacy. “But I’m going to have to be honest here and tell you that it feels really, really good to see you again, Maddy.”

11

“Don’t do that.” She held up a hand like a traffic cop and shot him a warning glare.

Lucas had thought he was making headway. Apparently, he’d been wrong.

“Do what?”

“You know.”

He did. But damned if he was going to admit that after giving it some serious thought, he wouldn’t mind starting over again. Doing things right this time.

Her hair was sleep tousled, which had Lucas imagining her in bed. Which wasn’t the safest thought at the moment. But it was definitely one that had not only tortured his sleep last night, but had continued flitting through his mind on the drive from the cottage to the farm.

Her pink flannel pajamas definitely hadn’t been designed with seduction in mind. But the ice-cream-sundae print only had him wanting to lick her. All over.

Her smoky eyes were almond shaped, and brought to mind tambourines and gypsies in colorful skirts dancing around a campfire. He remembered, one night, in their own special, secret cave, after they’d first made love on a burst of joyous, youthful romanticism, telling her exactly that.

And, oh yes, Lucas also remembered how the next night she’d actually shown up at the beach with a tambourine she’d bought at Moonstruck Music and danced for him.

Just for him.

As his hormones spiked, he wondered if she’d ever danced for the Frenchman.

Jealousy had teeth. And they were gnawing at his gut.

“What? I’m not allowed to say that I’m glad to see you? That you’re looking damn fine on the eyes?”

She grimaced and brushed at her hair. “Liar. I look like roadkill.”

“Not at all.” Because he’d lied to her once, Lucas decided, now that fate—or perhaps that wily Sofia—had thrown them back together, he would tell the absolute truth. “You do look a little tired.”

Because he could not be in the same room with her without touching, he skimmed a finger along the shadows beneath her remarkably expressive eyes.

Despite having grown up in Europe with parents who’d cooked not just for their neighbors, but for the rich and famous, she’d always been the most genuine person Lucas had ever known. Which is why her television stardom had come so quickly, he considered. Because the women who’d tuned in to every show, bought her book and pots and pans, and made her a household name could identify with her.

“And sad,” he said. Also, despite the lush curves, which he was grateful to see she hadn’t lost during her years living among the rich and chic in New York City, there was an air of fragility about her.

“I’m not sad.”
Now who’s the liar?
She batted at his hand and backed away from his touch. “I’m angry and disappointed and embarrassed.”

He understood the first two. But the third?

“What the hell do you have to be embarrassed about?”

She held up a finger. Her unpainted nails were still short—better, she’d once told him, for working in the kitchen.

“How about the fact that if anyone Googles my name, a damn sex video is the first bazillion hits?”

“But you’re not in it.”

Color tinged her too-pale cheeks. “Of course I’m not. Just because I’m on TV doesn’t mean I’m an exhibitionist.”

“You don’t have to convince me of that.” Although she’d been the one pushing to take their relationship to the next level, she’d proven sweetly shy after that first burst of passion, afraid he’d find her soft, curvy body a turn-off. Which had so not been the case.

“I told you. Don’t you dare go there.”

“Where?” he asked with feigned innocence, remembering the first time he’d talked her out of her bra.

“You know where.” He found her flare of heat encouraging. He’d rather have her angry at him than cool as a cucumber. Cool could mean indifference. Anger was an emotion he could work with. “Bad enough that, thanks to my grandmother, we’re apparently going to be sharing this house for the next few weeks—”

“So, you’re home for a while, then?” Things were definitely looking up.

“I don’t know. Maybe. Probably.” She threw her hands up, apparently forgetting whatever else she’d been about to list. There were very few things that could throw Maddy off track. Lucas decided he liked being one of them.

Unfortunately, she wasn’t distracted for long.

“Getting back to my point, I’m embarrassed that people think I’m not good enough in bed to keep my husband from straying.”

“O-kay. That one is so far off base, I don’t even have words to respond.” He leaned closer. “But you know what they say about actions being stronger than words.”

Her back was against the counter. Even knowing that he was pushing, some voice of reason in the back of his mind cautioned that touching would be a major mistake.

At least at this point.

Instead, he put his hands on the counter, framing her between his arms.

“Lucas…”

The little hitch in her voice reminded him of the first time he’d kissed her.

They’d driven into town on some errand for her grandmother. What, exactly, he couldn’t recall. But he did remember walking along the harbor as the old-fashioned gaslights flickered on, casting a fog-softened, warm yellow glow over the buildings that were not much different from the day they’d first been built during the 1800s.