She wants independence. He wants her heart. Both are threatened by a poisonous blend of family interference.
ISBN: 978-1-60088-613-3
Excerpt
“My brothers who still live at home pull out some spending money from their checks, and the rest all goes into the family bank account. Out of that I pay the bills, buy the food, and use what I need for…you know…personal stuff.”
Richard turned toward her more fully and laid his arm along the back of the bench. “And this is something you’re going to do indefinitely? Take care of them?”
“Oh, Lord, I hope not,” she said with real feeling and look of exaggerated agony on her face.
“Then what do you want to do? How old are you?”
She lightly slapped his thigh. “You’re not supposed to ask a woman that.”
“Come on,” he said with a grin. “You’re in your twenties, right? How long do you plan to feed and tend to your brothers, who are mostly older than you?”
She sighed and tipped her head to the side a bit. “I’m twenty-four, and I’ve been thinking about my escape for a while now.”
“Escape? That sounds ominous.”
“Not really. Escape into the real working world.”
“So, what do you want to do?”
She shrugged, but he could tell from the look in her eyes that she had dreams.
“Come on, Sylvia. Just us here. Tell me your secrets.”
Her smile was a little shy. “It’s silly.”
“Dreams are not silly.”
“Mine is, because it’ll never happen.”
“Tell me anyway.”
She looked at him, seemed to study him as if deciding if he was worthy of hearing her deepest wishes. Then she ducked her head slightly and dropped her gaze to her lap. “My dream is to open a little café on Main Street. Just breakfast and lunch, light fare like croissants and individual quiches, and deli sandwiches made on homemade bread, and hearty soups and stews to go with the sandwiches.” She raised her eyes and smiled. “And specialty coffees and teas. Maybe a few pies. Cakes even. Everyday a different one offered. Buy a vanilla caramel latte and get a slice of almond coffee cake. That kind of thing.”
Richard was smiling. He couldn’t help it. It was her dream, and there was passion in her voice, in her demeanor, as she continued to talk. “Then do it,” he said. “It sounds wonderful, and there’s no place like that in Everland.”
She nodded. “I know. But I can’t do it.”
“Why? It’s a fantastic idea.”
She stared at him a long moment, then stood up and left the alcove, heading back toward the little pond.
“Sylvia?” he said, following her. “I didn’t mean to upset you.” He took her arm and gently turned her toward him. “What did I say?”
She stared into his eyes. “I have no formal training. I have never taken a single cooking course. I’m self-taught. And I have no money. What bank would give a small business loan to a twenty-four-year-old woman who’s never even had a paying job?”
“Anyone who saw your passion,” he answered honestly. He’d give her the loan right now if he didn’t think she’d hate him for the offer. “Can you really make croissants?”
“The best outside of France,” she said with conviction, which made him grin.
“I’ve had them in the best cafés in Paris. Why don’t you let me judge?”
“You’ve been to Paris?”
He nodded.
She frowned at him, but soon broke into a smile. “Maybe I will.”
“Promise?” He edged closer and slid his hand down her arm.
“I said ‘maybe.’”
“You turned a horrible night into something special,” he said softly as he ever so gently pulled her into his arms.
She smiled at him, her eyes sparkling like the deepest emeralds in his mine. But she was worth more than all the gems in the world. “It’s been a night to remember.”
“May I kiss you, Sylvia?”
Without the slightest coyness she said, “I think I would like that very much.”
He leaned down and lightly brushed his lips over hers. Her breath caught for an instant, and he felt her tremble. He wondered if she’d ever been kissed before. Then he just didn’t care. He pressed his mouth to hers and teased her closed lips with his tongue until she parted them. He didn’t invade, though. He took his time, nibbled her juicy bottom lip, tasting the cherry sweetness of her lipstick. It wasn’t until the tiniest sound came out of her, not quite a whine or whimper, but a sound of pleasure, that he dipped his tongue into her mouth to taste her.
She was sweetness personified, and she melted against him, her arms rising to encircle his neck, her body molding to his in the most perfect way.
It was the world’s sweetest kiss.
A hand grabbed his shoulder and spun him away. He heard, “You son of a bitch,” an instant before a wrecking ball slammed into his jaw and knocked him back.
