Married Under The Mistletoe
Linda Goodnight
Needed: a man to trustDaniel Stephens has just discovered he is related to the famous Valentine Dynasty. He's not convinced that he fits into their world…until he meets beautiful Bella Lucia manager Stephanie Ellison and is captivated by her feisty yet vulnerable spirit.Stephanie has surrounded herself with barriers to protect her from a devastating past. Now she's slowly warming to Daniel's gentle charm. This really could be a Christmas to remember, but first Daniel must show Stephanie that she can't hide behind her fears forever…
THE BRIDES OF BELLA LUCIA
A family torn apart by secrets, reunited by marriage
When William Valentine returned from the war, as a testament to his love for his beautiful Italian wife, Lucia, he opened the first Bella Lucia restaurant in London, England. The future looked bright, and William had, he thought, the perfect family.
Now William is nearly ninety, and not long for this world, but he has three top London restaurants with prime spots throughout Knightsbridge and the West End. He has two sons, John and Robert, and grownup grandchildren on both sides of the Atlantic who are poised to take this small gastronomic success story into the twenty-first century.
But when William dies, and the family fights to control the destiny of the Bella Lucia business, they discover a multitude of long-buried secrets, scandals, the threat of financial ruin and ultimately two great loves they hadn’t even dreamed of: the love of a lifelong partner, and the love of a family reunited.
Married Under the Mistletoe
Linda Goodnight
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
THE BRIDES OF BELLA LUCIA
A family torn apart by secrets, reunited by marriage
Having the Frenchman’s Baby—Rebecca Winters
Coming Home to the Cowboy—Patricia Thayer (Silhouette Romance®)
The Rebel Prince—Raye Morgan
Wanted: Outback Wife—Ally Blake
Married Under the Mistletoe—Linda Goodnight
Crazy About the Boss—Teresa Southwick
The Nanny and the Sheikh—Barbara McMahon
The Valentine Bride—Liz Fielding
To the children of Gorlovka Hope Orphanage in Ukraine, who may never read the book but who will benefit from its proceeds. My prayers are with you.
Special thanks and acknowledgment are given to Linda Goodnight for her contribution to The Brides of Bella Lucia series.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE (#u2e5d7efa-122d-5886-a5c4-07b487f3f026)
CHAPTER TWO (#u0c2efaba-c45c-5757-a9f0-fdae144d09d2)
CHAPTER THREE (#u0fc02dfd-bda6-528d-ae84-1d9a5c2112a9)
CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE
IN HIS wildest fantasies, if he were given to such things, Daniel Stephens had never expected to be here, doing this.
He shifted the heavy canvas duffel bag from his shoulder to the pavement in front of the beautiful, light-washed building, slicked back a damp clutch of hair and gazed up at the Knightsbridge Bella Lucia Restaurant.
London pulsed around him, the genteel hum of the élite, the roar of buses, the swirling, thick moisture of a damp October night, all both familiar and foreign after so many years away.
This was his birth family’s restaurant. One of three, if he understood correctly. Fabulously successful. Exclusive. Expensive.
His nostrils flared. Outward façades never impressed him much. To his way of thinking most were lies, like his own childhood, covering a multitude of sins. But he had to admit, the Valentine family had style.
A chic woman stepped out of a taxicab beside him, tucked her designer bag beneath her arm, and sailed past without a glance to enter the glass double-doors of the restaurant. Soft jazz wafted out briefly, then was sucked back inside as the doors vacuumed shut.
Daniel had blood here. Blood that hadn’t claimed him or his twin until now when it no longer hurt so much to have no father, no extended family, no one to care. Now his father wanted him. Or so he said. People like John Valentine generally hid ulterior motives. If Daniel waited around awhile, he’d find out what his father was really after.
The notion of claiming John Valentine as father still rankled as much as Mrs Valentine’s demand for a DNA test to prove it. He’d refused her request during his brief visit a week and a half ago and, furious, had returned to the familiar call of Africa. But his twin brother Dominic had obliged, proving once and for all that the father who had abandoned them before birth was a rich and respected man.
Now that his troublesome temper had cooled and he’d thought the matter over, Daniel was back. Not that he wanted anything from the family he didn’t know or trust. Not at all. But he did want something he couldn’t get in Africa. Money. Lots and lots of money.
But first, he needed a place to live. His father—and he used the word loosely—had all but insisted he stay here in the flat above the Knightsbridge restaurant.
Light rain patted against his cheeks. His lips twitched an ironic smile. Water. The most precious commodity on earth. One so abundant here in his native country and so desperately scarce in his adopted one. He’d spent his entire career trying to rectify that problem, but project funds always ran short at the worst possible times. Now he was determined to use his skills and contacts in the UK to change all that. Life’s inequities had always bothered him.
He lifted the heavy duffel bag back onto his shoulder. Might as well go up. Introduce himself to the American restaurant manager who had somehow been persuaded to share her lodging with him. He still wondered how John had worked that one out, but the old man had assured him that the woman was not only in agreement but was delighted with the arrangement. After all, the flat was large and roomy and there was some sort of problem in the restaurant that might make a woman alone uneasy. He hadn’t added, though Daniel was no fool, that the flat also belonged to the Valentine family and that Miss Stephanie Ellison had no real choice in the matter.
If not for his determination to sink every shilling he had into the new business and ultimately into the Ethiopian water project, he might have felt badly about intruding upon the restaurant manager. He might have. But he didn’t.
Obsessing. Stephanie Ellison was obsessing. And she had to get a handle on it fast. She glanced at the stylish pewter clock above the sofa. Five minutes.
“Oh, Lord.”
The pressure against her temples intensified.
She paced from one side of her flat to the other, stopping to straighten every piece of framed art, two fresh flower arrangements and a pewter bowl of vanilla potpourri. All useless, obsessive gestures.
The living room, like every other room in the luxury Knightsbridge flat, was immaculate. And why not? She had cleaned, re-cleaned, and triple-cleaned today. Even the cans in the kitchen cupboards were organized into groups according to the alphabet.
And yet the throb in her temple grew louder and her gut knotted as if something was out of order.
Something was out of order. Seriously out of order.
“But I can do this.” She paced across the white-tiled floor and down the hall to her bedroom to assess her appearance—again. “Oh, why did John put me in this situation?”
Especially now, with the problems in the restaurant. Until the missing money was recovered, Stephanie needed to concentrate her attention there. After all, as manager she was ultimately responsible. But thanks to her employer, she had to deal with an even more dreaded scenario. An unwanted male flatmate.
A shudder rippled through her.
John Valentine had no way of knowing that thrusting his son upon her as a temporary roommate had the power to push her over the edge. John, like everyone else, knew nothing of the hidden shame that caused her to keep people at arm’s length.
Oh, she was friendly enough. She’d learned from a master to put on a smile, keep her mouth shut, and play the game so that the world at large believed the masquerade instead of the truth.
That was why she’d never taken on a roommate. Brief visits by girlfriends such as Rebecca Valentine, yes. But a roommate? Never. Having someone invade her space for a few days was bad enough. A roommate was sheer terror.
Anyone who got too close might discover the truth. And she couldn’t even face that herself.
Since hiring her a year ago as manager of the exclusive Knightsbridge restaurant, the Valentine family had given her carte blanche in remodeling and running the Bella Lucia. They’d even indulged her penchant for contemporary art décor. Her boss seldom interfered. Which was exactly why she hadn’t been able to say no when he’d asked her to house the son who’d spent years doing charity work in Africa.
She chewed on that, allowing a seed of hope that Daniel Stephens was as noble as his work implied. From her boss’s enthusiastic description, Daniel was one minor step below sainthood.
She laughed, though the sound was as humorless as the hammering in her head.
“A saint. Sure, he is. Like all men.”
One other thing worried her. Actually, a lot of other things worried her. But in her flummoxed state, she’d failed to ask how long Daniel would be staying. With all her heart, she hoped not long. There was too much at stake to have him here indefinitely.
She swiveled around backwards, twisting her head to look at the slim, smooth line of her pale green dress. Everything was covered. Nothing showed. But she’d have to be extra careful with a flatmate lurking about. She hated that. Hated worrying that someone would discover the secret she kept hidden away beneath designer labels.
Someone tapped softly at the door.
Stephanie jumped, then gritted her teeth in frustration. She would not, could not, let anxiety take over. The willowy redhead staring back from the mirrored tub enclosure looked in complete control, unruffled, and well groomed. Good. As long as the outside appeared in control, let the inside rage.
She smoothed newly manicured hands down the soft, flowing skirt, realigned the toiletries on the counter for the third time, and went to greet her boss’s son.
One look at the big, dark, wild-looking man filling up her foyer and Stephanie’s heart slammed against her ribcage. The throbbing in her head intensified. Fight or flight kicked into high gear. Escape lay past him and down the elevator to the restaurant below. She had little choice but to stand and fight.
There had to be a mistake. This could not be Daniel. Mr Valentine had called him a boy, and, even though she had fully expected a grown man, she hadn’t expected this…this…barbarian!
“My boy,” John had said with an indulgent chuckle. “He’s a tad rough around the edges. Too much time abroad living without the amenities of the civilized world.”
A tad rough around the edges? A tad? That understatement was a record even for the British.
This was no boy. This was a motorcycle gang in battered jeans, bomber jacket and rough-out boots. A pirate with piercing blue eyes, stubble darkening his jaw and unruly black hair in need of a cut. She had expected him at the worst to resemble his twin brother, Dominic, who worked for her as a part-time accountant. But this man was nothing like harmless, middle-aged Dominic. There wasn’t a bald spot or an ounce of fat anywhere on this guy. And he was anything but harmless.
Surely there was a mistake.
Another equally disturbing concern struck. If this was Daniel, and she prayed he wasn’t, could John have sent him to spy on her, suspicious that she was responsible for the money missing from the restaurant accounts?
Fighting panic and forcing a bland expression she didn’t feel, Stephanie took a small step back. The stranger was too close, too threatening.
“Are you Daniel?”
One corner of his mouth quirked. “And if I say no?”
If he said no? What kind of introduction was that?
She blinked several times, then drew upon a glib tongue and a sharp mind to gloss over her real feelings. “Then I’ll assume you’re the plumber, at which rate you’re five days late and fired.”
He laughed, a quick flash of white teeth in a sun-burnished face. Oh, my.
“To save myself that indignity, I’ll confess. I’m Daniel Stephens, your new flatmate.”
She’d always enjoyed the British male voice with its soft burr in the back of the throat. But this man’s voice was half purr, half gravel and all male, a sound that shimmied down her spine to the toes of her new heels.
Heaven help her. What had she agreed to? This could never work. Not even if she wanted it to. And she most decidedly did not. He was too rugged to be handsome and too blatantly male not to be noticed. And Stephanie did not notice men. Not anymore.
She couldn’t meet his gaze but she couldn’t take her eyes off him either.
Her silence must have gone on a bit too long because he said, “May I come in?”
Stephanie opened the door wider, determined to remain as composed as possible under the circumstance. “Of course. Please.”
She couldn’t let him know how much his size and strength and sheer manliness unnerved her. She could handle him. Hadn’t she determined long ago that no man would ever get close enough to hurt her again? Hadn’t she rid herself of that fear by moving far, far away from Colorado?
“I’m afraid you caught me by surprise.” A lie, of course. “The flat is…”
He poked his rather unkempt, and altogether too attractive head inside and finished her sentence. “Fine.”
Her flat, like her person, was always ultra-clean and tidy. Outward appearances were everything. And having things out of place distressed her.
Stephanie turned and led the way to the living room. Her stomach jittered and her heart raced, but she was good at the pretense game.
Trouble was, it had been a while since she’d had to pretend quite this much. Or for quite this long. There was that troubling question again. How long would he be here?
Daniel’s bulk filled up the large living room as if it were elevator-small. He glanced around with an unconcerned expression. The luxury of a flat that most could only dream of was apparently lost on him.
“Where should I stash my bedroll?” He swung the bag from his wide shoulder as if it contained nothing but packing peanuts. “Any place will do. A room, the floor, the couch. Makes no difference to me.”
Well, it certainly made a difference to Stephanie.
“I’ve put you in the back guest room.” She forced a smile. “I assure you, it’s more comfortable than the floor.”
And as far away from her room as possible.
She led the way down the short hall toward the back of the flat, pointing out the other rooms along the way.
“This is the kitchen here. You’re welcome to make use of it anytime.” She felt like a Realtor.
“I wouldn’t think you’d need much of a kitchen with the restaurant below.”
“A person tires quickly of too much rich food.”
“I can’t imagine.”
She paused to look at him. Bad decision. “Are you making fun of me?”
“Am I?” Blue eyes glittered back at her, insolent eyes that challenged. Stephanie glanced away.
Perhaps her statement had been rude. The man had spent a lot of years in places where food such as that served in the Bella Lucia was unheard of.
He was the boss’s son. She didn’t want to get off on the wrong foot with him. “I apologize. I’m really not a snob. But you’ll have to understand, I’m accustomed to living on my own.” She pushed the door open to the last bedroom. “You have your own bathroom through here.”
“Nice,” he said, though his tone indicated indifference as he gazed from the sage and toast décor to the queen-sized bed and then to the pristine bathroom beyond. He tossed the duffel bag into a corner next to a white occasional table. “I can see you aren’t nearly as happy to have me here as John thought you’d be.”
Stephanie wasn’t certain what to say to that. She loved her job and couldn’t chance upsetting her generous employer.
“I’m sure we’ll get on fine.” She hovered in the doorway, eager to have him settled, but equally eager to make her escape.
“I don’t think you’re sure of that at all.”
He moved across the room in her direction. Stephanie resisted the urge to shrink back into the hallway.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Sure you do.”
Before she knew what he was about, he touched her forearm. The gesture was harmless, meaning only to convey reassurance. It had just the opposite effect.
Try as she might to stand her ground, Stephanie flinched and pulled away, desperate to rub away the feel of his calloused fingers against her flesh.
Hand in mid-air, Daniel studied her, clearly bewildered by her overreaction.
“I meant no harm, Stephanie. You’re quite safe with me here.”
Right. As safe as a rabbit in a fox’s den.
Forcing a false little laugh, she tried to make light of her jitters. “I’m sure all serial murderers say the same thing.”
“Cereal murderers?” He dropped his hand and slouched against the door facing, too close for comfort. “Can’t imagine harming an innocent box of cornflakes.”
So, he had a sense of humor. She backed one step out into the hallway. “My oatmeal will be relieved to hear that.”
“Ah, now, porridge. There’s nothing innocent about horse feed cooked to the gooey consistency of wallpaper paste. I might be tempted to do in a few boxes of those, after all.”
This time Stephanie laughed. For a barbarian, he displayed a pleasant sense of the ridiculous.
“There’s tea in the kitchen if you’d like a cup.” She started back down the hall.
“Sounds great. If you’re having one too.”
She hesitated in the living-room entry, not wanting to appear rude, but certainly not wanting to become friends. Her idea of a male friend was one that lived somewhere else. Preferably Mars.
The gravelly purr moved up behind her, too close again. “We might as well get acquainted, Stephanie. We’re going to be living together.”
She wasn’t overly fond of that term, but it wouldn’t do to offend the son of her employer. From the rumors astir in the restaurant, she knew Daniel and Dominic were John’s only sons, the result of a fling he’d had as a young man. Though he’d only recently discovered their existence, Mr Valentine was trying hard to make up for lost time.
“All right, then. I have a few minutes.” She really should go, get away from him while she could still carry on a lucid conversation. Trouble was he’d be here when she came back.
In the kitchen, she poured tea into two china cups and set them on the small breakfast bar.
Daniel, instead of taking a seat, made himself at home by rummaging about for milk and sugar. In the narrow kitchen, they bumped once. Stephanie shifted away, rounding the bar to sit opposite him. If Daniel noticed her avoidance, he didn’t react.
Instead, he slouched into the straight-backed white chair and splashed a generous amount of milk into the cup. Stephanie had never embraced the English penchant for milk in her tea. She did, however, favor sugar. In abundance.
“Tsk. Tsk. Three sugars?” Daniel murmured when she’d doused her cup. “Bad girl.”
An unwanted female reaction skittered through her. The words were innocent enough, but his sexy tone gave them new meaning. Either that or she was losing touch with reality.
She inclined her head. “Now you know.”
A black eyebrow kicked upward. “Sweet tooth?”
“A decidedly evil one. Grabs me in the middle of the night sometimes.” Why was she telling him this?
“You don’t look the part.” His laser-blue gaze drifted over her slim body, hesitating a millisecond too long.
“I jog. I also have enormous self-control.” Like now, when I really want you out of my flat, but I can’t say so.
“Don’t tell me you never sneak down to the restaurant for cheesecake and chocolate sauce?”
She smiled in spite of herself. “How did you guess?”
Small crinkles appeared around his eyes. The African sun had been kind to him. “Because that’s what I’d do if I lived over a restaurant.”
“Which you now do.” Unfortunately.
“But you hold the keys to the Bella Lucia.”
She stirred the spoon round and round in her cup. “There is that.”
“Think I can persuade you to make your midnight runs with me in tow?”
Perhaps not, big boy.
Without comment, she lifted her cup and sipped.
Daniel did likewise, eyelids dropping in a soft sigh of appreciation. Stephanie had a hard time not staring. Though she was loath to admit it, Daniel Stephens was a stunningly attractive man.
“Can’t get tea like this where I’ve been,” he said, clattering the cup onto the saucer.
“Tell me about Africa.” As she’d done countless times, Stephanie slipped into hostess mode, tucking away real feelings to skim the surface of civilized conversation. “Your father’s very proud of what you’ve done there.”
His face, so full of pleasure moments before, closed up tight. “My father doesn’t know a thing about my work.”
And from the stormy look of him, Stephanie figured John might never know. Her boss might want to mend fences with his sons, but this one had some hostility that might not be so easily overcome.
Daniel’s anger reminded her of the kids she sometimes worked with in special art classes. There, where she volunteered her time teaching troubled children to paint, she had learned to listen as well as to share simple techniques of line and color.
In the same quiet voice she used to encourage those kids, she said, “Would you tell me about it?”
Forearms on the table edge, he linked his fingers and leaned forward. Too close again. The man had an unpleasant habit of invading her space. Stephanie tilted back a few inches.
“The work is rewarding and equally frustrating,” he said.
So he’d chosen to sidestep the issue of his father and move on to the safer ground of Africa. She didn’t know why she’d felt compelled to dig into his personal life in the first place. The less she knew about him, the better.
“Is that why you quit?”
“I didn’t quit. I’ll never quit,” he said vehemently. “But I’ve finally realized that I can make more of a difference here than I can there.”
She frowned, not following. “How?”
“To build sustainable, safe water systems takes money and expertise. I’m a civil engineer. I’ve spent my whole life dealing with the problem. I have the expertise. What I lack is that vulgar little commodity called money.”
“So you’re back in England to raise money, then.”
“In a manner of speaking. I’m starting my own business, contracting water projects throughout England. The demand is high, especially in the area of flood control. A man who has the right skills and contacts can make a fortune.”
Maybe he was as giving as John had indicated. “And you’re planning to use that money to fund projects in Africa?”
“It’s the best way I can think of.” He shoved a hand over dark, unruly hair. “That’s why I’m grateful to you for sharing this flat, and that’s also why I agreed to the arrangement in the first place. I dislike accepting favors, particularly from my father, but the less spent on living expenses, the more I can spare for Ethiopia.”
Despite her determination not to get too close, Stephanie’s opinion of Daniel rose several notches. He had a caring heart, at least where the needy in Africa were concerned. This knowledge gave her hope that he would not be difficult to room with. If her luck held out, he would keep his distance until the business was started and he could afford his own place to live.
And this brought her to the question that had burned on her mind since that first telephone call from Mr Valentine. Just exactly how long would all that take? How long would she have this disturbing, intriguing, terrifying man living in her flat?
Because, for her own protection and peace of mind, the sooner he was gone, the better.
CHAPTER TWO
SURREPTITIOUSLY, Daniel watched the stunning red-haired woman from behind his teacup. The moment she’d opened the door he’d lost his breath, knocked out by the sheer beauty of her long legs, slim, shapely body, and the long, wavy just-got-out-of-bed hairstyle. Though her dress was mid-calf and modest, his first, very wayward thoughts had been of sex, a natural male reaction that he’d reined in right away. Mostly. He’d once had a penchant for redheads and, if his body’s reaction was an accurate indicator, he still did. But he was here on business. And business it would remain.
A few minutes in her company, however, had told him what the old man hadn’t. That she wasn’t all that thrilled to have him here. But he was here and planned to stick around. And it didn’t hurt at all that his flatmate was gorgeous and smelled incredible as well. He could look, but that was the end of it.
Long ago, he’d come to grips with his own shortcomings where women were concerned. He liked them, enjoyed their company, but he’d never been able to fall in love. After too many years, he’d finally faced reality. Thanks to his mother, he lacked the capacity to love anybody.
“I need to get back down to the restaurant.” Stephanie’s teacup rattled against the saucer as she set it in place. “There’s more tea if you want it.”
“Thanks, but no. No time like the present to get started on the telephone contacts.”
She reached for his cup and he handed it over.
“You should consider getting a mobile phone.”
“Hmm. Possibly later.” Right now he was conserving funds.
“I have a computer if you need one.” She motioned toward the hall. “Sometimes I work on orders and supplies at night.”
“I’ll probably take you up on that.” He pushed up from the chair and came around the bar to stand beside her at the sink. “Let me help with this.”
Wariness flickered across her pretty face. “I have it.”
“Okay.” He backed off, wondering if his size intimidated her. She wouldn’t be the first, though she reached his shoulders. He propped his backside against the blue granite counter several feet away from her. The tension eased.
With a grace that had him watching her hands, she washed the cups, dried them and placed them, handles aligned to the right, inside the cupboard. The orderliness of her flat was almost amusing. His idea of domestic order was keeping the mosquito net untangled around his face at night.
She tidied up, putting everything away until the kitchen looked as if no one lived there. In fact, the entire flat had that look. As if it were a photograph, a perfect, sophisticated, contemporary ad of an apartment. Not a lived-in place.
Folding a snowy tea-towel into a precise rectangle, she hung it neatly over a holder, straightening the edges while she spoke. “Is there anything else I can show you before I go? Anything you need?”
“I’m not a guest, Stephanie. No need for you to fret over me. I can find my way around.” Hadn’t he fended for himself as long as he could remember?
“Right. Of course.” Her hands fidgeted with the edge of the towel. “I’d better go, then. The evening crowd begins soon.”
“I may go out this afternoon myself. Do you have an extra key to the flat?”
She clasped the butterfly hands in front of her. “I’m sorry. I never thought of having another key made.”
“Give me yours and I’ll go to the locksmith.”
“I’ll get it.” She looked none too excited about the prospect of sharing her key with him, but she disappeared down the hall and was back in moments, key extended. “This also fits the doors leading out onto the balcony. In case you didn’t notice, there are two entrances to the flat. A staircase up the outside as well as the elevator in back of the restaurant.”
“Good to know. Thanks.” He pocketed the key, keeping watch on her fidgety movements. She’d relaxed somewhat since his arrival, but Daniel had the strongest feeling her tension was more than the normal discomfort of acquiring an unfamiliar flatmate. Though good breeding or schooling gave her the right words to say, her real feelings lay hidden behind the serenely composed expression. And yet, her hands gave her away.
With an inner shrug, he dismissed the idea. Stephanie’s problems were her own. He wasn’t interested in getting past the pretty face and tantalizingly long legs. His business here was exactly that—business.
“You’re welcome to come down to the restaurant later and get acquainted if you’d like,” she said, heading for the door. “Some of your family may come round. They often do.”
The comment brought him up short. He still had trouble thinking of the Valentines as family.
“Is Dominic working today?” He’d had little time with his twin since returning to England. Discovering that Dominic had become a part-time employee of the restaurant below added to the appeal of living here. They’d been apart a very long time.
Stephanie glanced at her watch. “He should be in his office about now. I’m sure he’d enjoy a visit.”
And so would Daniel, though he was every bit as eager to begin setting up appointments. The list of contacts in his bag was impressive. With it, his business should be up and running in no time.
His flatmate was halfway out the door when she stopped and turned. “Oh, one more thing, Daniel.”
“Yes?”
Cool aqua eyes assessed him. “If you don’t mind my asking, how long are you planning to be here?”
“Why, Stephanie—” he playfully placed a hand over his heart “—I’m crushed. Already trying to get rid of me?”
“No, no, of course not. I didn’t mean that at all. I was just thinking…”
He knew exactly what she was thinking, but he couldn’t accommodate her. “New businesses take a while to get off the ground. A year. Perhaps longer.” He watched her, hoping to gauge her true reaction, but she gave nothing away. “That won’t be a problem, will it?”
“That will be…fine,” she said.
Daniel didn’t believe a word of it.
Several hours later, Daniel exited the tube in high spirits, returning to Knightsbridge after a successful afternoon. He’d found a locksmith to cut a new flat key and afterwards had spent an hour chatting up a former university mate about business prospects. All in all, a good beginning.
Above ground, the rain had begun in earnest. Though he’d failed to bring an umbrella, the smell of rain in the air and the feel of it on his skin were a pleasure after years in the African sun. He resisted the childish urge to lift his face and catch the drops on his tongue.
At the back door of the Bella Lucia, he shook himself off to spare the floors a puddle. A kitten, no bigger than his hand, meowed up at him in protest.
“Sorry there, little one.” He scooped the ball of fluff into one hand and slid her inside his jacket while he looked about for a dry place. She snuggled close, a warm, damp ball against his shirt, and turned her motor on. Daniel spotted an overhang and withdrew the kitten from his jacket. She meowed again.
“Hungry?” he asked, crouching down to set her beneath the overhang. Her yellow eyes blinked at him. With a final stroke of the small head, he decided to steal a bite for her later, and then went inside the Bella Lucia to find his brother.
To the right of the wide entry were the lift and a door marked “Storage.” On his left were the offices. Taking a guess, he tapped at the first one and went inside. Dominic sat at a desk, intently staring at a computer screen.
Daniel stood for a moment, observing his brother at work. Fraternal twins, they had once shared similarities, but now, beyond the blue eyes and tall stature, they bore little resemblance. Domestication and long hours in a high-pressure accounting firm had taken a toll on Dominic’s once powerful physique.
“Careful there, brother. You’ll be getting eye strain from all that hard work.”
The balding head lifted with a smile and a brotherly jab. “No chance of that happening to you, now, is there, mate?”
“Not if I can avoid it,” he joked in return. Hard work was all he’d ever known, as Dominic well knew.
A bit wearily, Dominic removed a pair of reading glasses and rubbed at his eyes. “Are you settled in, then? Finding the flat upstairs to your liking?”
Daniel flopped into a chair. “You know I don’t care about the flat. Why didn’t you warn me about my flatmate?”
“Warn you?” Humor glinted on Dominic’s tired face. “About what?”
“That she was young and beautiful. And not nearly as willing to have me move in as John let on.”
A slow smile crept up Dominic’s cheeks. “You always were a sucker for redheads.”
“Getting this business off the ground is my first priority. The flat is just a step in that direction.”
“Then why is Stephanie a problem? Did she try to toss you out?”
“No, nothing like that.” Quite the opposite, actually. “She was polite, accommodating.” She’d put on the pretense of welcome, but her fidgety movements told a different story.
“Then what’s the problem?”
He wasn’t sure how to answer that one. “I make her nervous.”
Dominic guffawed. “Look in the mirror. You make everyone nervous.”
Daniel shoved a hand through his unruly hair. He never could figure out why his appearance concerned people. Just because he didn’t care about the usual conventions of dress or style, people sometimes shied away. Or maybe it was the darkness. Dark skin, dark hair. Bad attitude.
But this wasn’t the feeling he had with Stephanie. “I think the problem is deeper than the way I look.”
“Shave. Get a haircut. See if that helps.”
He’d skip that advice. Unlike his conservative, by-the-book twin, Daniel had never been a suit-and-tie kind of a man. Perhaps that was why he meshed with Africa so well. That, and the fact that Africa needed and appreciated him.
“Is there a boyfriend lurking around to punch my face for moving in with her?”
“I thought you weren’t interested.”
“I’m not dead either.”
Dominic chuckled. “Good. You were starting to worry me.”
“I gave up on love, not on life.”
Dominic knew better than anyone about Daniel’s empty heart.
“Sometimes they’re one and the same.”
The profound statement stirred the old restless longing, the feeling that, no matter how much good he did, life was passing by without him.
“Are you going to annoy me about my nonexistent love-life or tell me about Stephanie Ellison?”
“Well, let’s see.” Dominic gnawed at the earpiece of his glasses, pretending to think. “She doesn’t allow staff to smoke anywhere near the restaurant. Says it projects a bad image to the customers.”
“That’s not exactly the kind of information I meant.”
“None of us know much about her before she came here. She’s a mystery really.”
A mystery. Hmm. Better steer clear of that. He had enough puzzles to solve with the new business. “What kind of manager is she? Demanding? Difficult to work for?”
Though Dominic had only been in this job just over a week, he was good at gathering information, a knack that also made him a good accountant. Most of the time he knew more about a company than the owner.
“Stephanie’s a bit of a workaholic, a real control freak about tidiness,” Dominic said, “but she treats employees well. She gives every appearance of being an excellent manager.”
Daniel heard the subtle hesitation. “What do you mean by ‘gives every appearance’?”
“Nothing really. She’s doing a fine job.” Dominic glanced away, fidgeted with his glasses. He was holding back.
“I know you, Dominic. What are you not saying?”
“I don’t want to spread unsubstantiated rumors.”
“I’m your brother. I’ve just moved in with the woman. If she’s trouble, you have to tell me.”
“All right, then, between you and me.” He sighed and rolled a squeaky chair back from the desk. “You’ve heard about the money missing from the restaurant accounts?”
Daniel nodded, frowning. John had mentioned the problem. “You think Stephanie’s involved?”
“No. I don’t. Someone kind enough to take sick waiting staff to her flat, give them an aspirin and take over their shift while they rest isn’t a likely thief. Plus, she’s meticulous to the point of obsession about every detail of running this place. I can’t see her dipping into the till.”
“Yet, someone is responsible.”
“Right. And she’s the newcomer, the outsider.”
“Not the only one,” Daniel pointed out.
Dominic blinked, clearly shocked at the suggestion. “You think I—”
Daniel laughed. “Not in a million years.” His straight-down-the-line brother was so honest, he’d often confessed to childhood mischief before being confronted. “Have you talked to John about it?”
“Actually, the first clue came from him. He asked me to balance the dates when the money disappeared with all the other transactions filtering in and out of the three restaurants. There were some interesting inconsistencies, but nothing definite yet.”
“So what’s your decision? Is our pretty manager guilty?”
“I’m still watching, but, like I said, I don’t want to think Stephanie is involved. She isn’t the type.”
Daniel didn’t think so either, though he barely knew the woman. He’d much rather believe her anxiety around him was personal than an embezzler’s guilty conscience.
The idea gave him pause and, before he could stop the words, he asked, “What about her personal life? Does she see anyone?”
Dominic tossed his glasses onto the desk and tilted back, his gaze assessing. Daniel shifted in his chair. Okay, he’d admit it. He wanted to know about his flatmate as a woman, not as a restaurant manager.
“She goes out now and then, though the gossip mill says she never dates seriously.”
“Why? Too busy with work?”
“That’s my guess. But Rachel thinks she’s had her heart broken.”
“Rachel?” Daniel frowned. “Employee or relative?” He was having trouble keeping track.
“A cousin. Our uncle Robert’s daughter. Her sister, Rebecca, is a close friend of Stephanie’s. I think she may know more about your lovely manager than anyone.”
“She’s not my anything,” Daniel groused. “I was just asking.” And he didn’t know why, so he decided to let the subject of his flatmate drop. “So, tell me about you, Dominic. How’s the job? The family?”
Dominic’s gaze flicked to the computer screen. He picked up a pen and twirled it in his fingers.
“Alice is pregnant again.”
Daniel tried not to let the surprise show. Dominic looked stressed enough without being reminded that his other kids were nearly grown. “How many does this make? Four? Five?”
Daniel spent so little time in England that he couldn’t keep up. Never fond of his brother’s wife, he hadn’t tried too hard. Alice’s well-to-do family had vigorously protested when she had married a nobody like Dominic, and since then she had maintained an air of superiority that rankled Daniel.
“This makes four.” Dominic ran a hand over his face, and Daniel noticed again how much his brother had aged. “Alice is thrilled. She thinks another baby will keep us young. And a new addition also gives her a reason to shop.”
As if she needed one. Daniel remembered his sister-in-law’s propensity for spending. Luckily, his brother had done so well that his family could afford the best of everything. They lived in a fashionable area of London. His children attended private school, and both Dominic and Alice drove a Mercedes. Holidays in Rome or Madrid or anywhere they fancied were the norm. Daniel was glad for his brother’s success.
Dominic had only taken the extra position here at the restaurant as a way to get acquainted with the family he’d never known, and now to help ferret out the thief in the ranks. He certainly didn’t need the money.
“What about you? How do you feel about a new baby?”
Dominic drew in a deep breath and let it slowly out. “Stunned. I never expected to be a father again at forty.”
“Forty’s not too old.”
“Easy for you to say,” Dominic said with a rueful grin. “You aren’t losing your hair.”
Daniel returned the grin. “Is Alice all right, then? The pregnancy going well?”
“Sure. Everything’s fine. Great. You’ll have to come to the house for dinner one night and see for yourself.” He gave a self-conscious laugh. “Get that haircut first, though.”
In other words, Alice would have a fit if her uncivilized brother-in-law embarrassed her in front of her friends.
“How about one night next week?” Dominic went on. “I’ll invite John as well.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Come on, Daniel. Don’t be a hard case. We wanted a father all our lives and now we have one. He wants to get to know us.”
Tension coiled in Daniel’s gut. John Valentine was not his favorite subject. “He has a daughter—he adopted Louise; he wanted her. Why would he want to know us?”
“Because we’re blood. You and I have a right to be in this family.”
“Not according to Ivy.” John’s wife had thrown a fit to discover her husband had two sons with a former lover. “And maybe she has a point. Being adopted is better than being illegitimate.” The word left a nasty taste in his mouth.
“Louise doesn’t think so. She’s very upset. She’s even started one of those birth-parent searches. Has John worried sick. He says she’s not herself at all.”
“Do you blame her? This must be a terrible shock to her.” It had been to him. And he blamed the parents, not the children. Though he’d only briefly met Louise, she seemed nice enough, a quiet, accommodating woman dedicated to her family. She didn’t deserve to be blindsided by two long-lost brothers and the revelation that she had been adopted by John and Ivy Valentine.
“Maybe.” Dominic lifted a doubting brow. “Maybe not.”
“Meaning?”
“John phoned earlier, fretting over her as usual. Which is very bad for his heart, by the way, and she well knows that. Says Louise is planning to leave for Meridia tomorrow for some nonsense. A make-over, I think he called it, for Emma.”
Daniel searched his memory banks but came up empty, sighing in resignation. “Am I supposed to know Emma?”
“Cousin. Yet another of Uncle Robert’s numerous offspring. Emma’s the chef. Quite a renowned one, I hear. She was commissioned for a king’s coronation. That’s why she’s in Meridia though who knows why Louise thinks she needs a make-over.”
“Ah.” Not that Daniel comprehended any of this. After living a lifetime with a handful of family to his name, he was now swimming in relatives he didn’t know. From Dominic, he knew that their father John and his half-brother Robert were at odds. He also knew that the recent death of their grandfather William had increased the rivalry and battle for control of the restaurants. Beyond that, Daniel was lost. Even if he cared, which he hadn’t yet decided if he did or not, sorting out all the Valentines would require time and exposure. “So how does this relate to our sister?”
“Our father thinks Louise is going off the deep end and needs him more than ever.” His nostrils flared. “I think she’s an attention seeker, drumming up sympathy to keep a wedge between John and his blood children.”
“You and me.”
“Right. She’s on the defensive, trying to hold John’s allegiance. After growing up in the wealth and society that actually belonged to us, she’s unwilling to share. I, for one, think it’s time you and I reaped the benefits she’s had all her life.”
The answer bothered Daniel. Though he didn’t necessarily feel the same, he could understand his brother’s emotional need to embrace their birth family. But he and Alice were well set. They didn’t need the Valentine “benefits”, either social or financial.
Settling back against the plush office chair, he studied his twin. They had always been different, but in the years since they’d spent any real time together the differences had increased tenfold.
Daniel wasn’t sure he liked the changes.
CHAPTER THREE
FEET propped on a chair, Daniel slouched in broody silence on the too-small red sofa. His belly growled, but the half-eaten fish and chips on the table had long ago grown cold and greasy. Papers, phone numbers, business cards and other evidence of a budding business venture lay strewn around him in the darkness. He should be satisfied. But he wasn’t.
Except for a few, brief conversations Stephanie Ellison had avoided being alone with him since his arrival. She was friendly enough when he went into the restaurant. She even smiled indulgently at his feeble jokes and brought him a drink. But long after the restaurant closed, she remained downstairs.
And he wanted to know why. This was her flat. She should be comfortable here even with him present. Worst of all, he didn’t enjoy feeling like an interloper. He’d had enough of that when he was a kid and Mum brought friends to their hotel.
So tonight he’d waited up for little Miss Manager.
When her key turned in the lock and she walked in, Daniel was ready for her.
Light flooded the room.
“Are you avoiding me?”
Stephanie looked up, manicured fingers on the light switch, clearly startled to find him still awake, sitting in the midnight darkness. “I beg your pardon?”
“You heard me.”
She didn’t answer. Instead, she took one glance at the flat and started her incessant tidying up.
“Leave it,” he growled, annoyed that once again she was trying to sidestep him.
She kept working. “My goodness, you’re in a mood tonight. What’s wrong?”
“You.” Actually, she wasn’t the only problem, but the one he wanted fixed first. The others could wait.
Her fidgety hands stilled on the fish and chips wrapper. “And just what have I done that’s so terrible?”
“You skip out of here at pre-dawn, seldom come up to your own flat throughout the day, and then sneak in long after I’ve gone to bed.”
“Managing a restaurant requires long hours.” She tossed his forgotten dinner into the bin and then turned on him, green eyes flashing. “And I do not sneak.”
“Have you always worked eighteen-hour days? Or only since taking me on as a flatmate?”
She gathered the papers from the floor and made a perfect stack on the table. “Why are you asking me this?”
“Just answer the question. Are you avoiding me?”
“Of course not. How ridiculous.”
“Good. Then stop clearing up my mess and come sit down.”
“I’ve worked all day and I’m very tired.”
“You are avoiding me. All I’m asking is a few minutes of your time. We are flatmates, after all. We live together, but one of us is not living here.” Daniel didn’t care that he sounded like a nagging wife. He wanted to know what her problem was.
She rolled her eyes. “Okay. Fine. I’ll sit.”
And she did. Like a gorgeous red-plumed bird, she perched on the edge of a chair opposite him ready to fly away at any moment. Her hands twisted restlessly in her lap. He had the strongest urge to reach over and take hold of them.
“I haven’t ax-murdered you in your sleep, have I?”
Her lips twitched. “Evidently not.”
At last. He was getting somewhere, though why he cared, he couldn’t say.
“So stop being so jumpy.” It irritated him.
“I am not—” But she didn’t bother to finish the denial. “What do you want to talk about? Is there a problem with the flat? A problem with the new business?”
“Do you ever relax? Maybe read a book or watch the telly?”
“When I have time.”
Which he doubted was ever.
He pushed. “How much of London have you seen since you’ve been here?”
“Not nearly as much as I’d like, but I love it. The museums, the history.”
“We’re steps away from some of the finest museums in the world. Which ones have you seen?”
“The Royal College of Art,” she shot back.
No surprise there. He knew from looking at the walls in the flat and in the restaurant that she fancied modern art, the kind he couldn’t begin to understand. There wasn’t a realistic picture anywhere in the place.
“Where else?”
She shrugged and went silent.
“That’s it? You’ve not done the palace or the Victoria and Albert Museum?” They were right around the corner.
“Not yet. But I will.”
“What about Hyde Park?”
“I jog there.”
“A picnic is better. What say we have one?”
Her hands stopped fidgeting. “A picnic?”
Was that longing he heard?
“Yep. Tomorrow afternoon. Hyde Park.”
She shook her head; waves of red swung around her shoulders. “I’m too busy.”
“So am I.” Suddenly, he wanted a picnic more than anything. “But real life happens in between the busyness, Stephanie.”
Her gaze slid up to his, slid away, then came back again. She wanted to. He was certain of it.
He gave her a half smile. It probably looked sinister but he hoped for charm. “Avoiding me again?”
“No!”
He lifted a doubting brow.
She sighed. “All right, then, a picnic. Tomorrow after the noon rush.”
Triumph, way out of proportion to the event, expanded in Daniel’s chest. At last. He was getting somewhere with the cool and aloof one. Though why it mattered, he had no idea.
“You’re going on a picnic?” Chef Karl, slim and neat in his burgundy chef’s coat, froze with one hand on the parmesan and the other on a giant pan of fresh veal.
“Yes, Karl, a picnic,” Stephanie said coolly, though her nerves twitched like a cat’s tail. “Not bungee jumping from the London Bridge.”
“But—” his wide brow, reddened by heat and concentration, puckered “—you never take time off.”
“She is today.” Daniel, purring like an oversized pussycat and resembling a pillaging pirate, burst through the metal swinging doors that led into the kitchen from the back of the restaurant.
Stephanie’s twitchy nerves went haywire. She had to grab on to the stainless-steel counter to, literally, get a grip.
My goodness, that man takes up a lot of space.
Karl, who hadn’t a subtle bone in his body, looked from Stephanie to Daniel. “Oh. I see.”
Exactly what he saw, Stephanie didn’t know and didn’t want to know. The staff had no right to poke into her personal life, although she now realized she and Daniel would become this afternoon’s gossip.
Great. She was already struggling with last night’s decision. What had she been thinking to agree to such a silly thing? Such a dangerous thing? But the truth was she wanted to go on a picnic. With her new roommate. And she did not want to obsess over the reasons.
When she’d come in last night to find Daniel sitting in the dark surrounded by his usual mess, she’d been tempted to run back down the stairs. He was right. She had been avoiding the flat, partly because of him. Partly because she dreaded the nightmares that had begun with his arrival.
She was exhausted both physically and mentally. When he’d goaded her, she’d been too tired to think. And now, here she was, both dreading and longing for a picnic with a pirate.
“Don’t worry about it, Karl.” She patted the chef’s arm. “I’ll prepare the lunch myself. This is a restaurant, you know. We’re bound to have something picnic-worthy around here. You go ahead with preparations for this evening.”
“Anything I can do to help?” Daniel asked, eyes dancing with a devilish gleam that said he didn’t give a rip about becoming the latest fodder for gossip.
“You could let me off the hook.” But she hoped he wouldn’t.
The gleam grew brighter. “Not a chance. Be ready in ten minutes. We’re walking.”
Then he shouldered his way out of the kitchen, slowing long enough to hold the door for one of the hostesses.
“Bossy man,” Stephanie muttered half to herself.
“The macho ones always are,” the blonde hostess said. “But they are so worth it.”
Stifling a groan, Stephanie settled on simple picnic fare, which she packed into a bread basket before going out to check the restaurant one more time.
Only a few stray shoppers sipped lattes or fragrant teas at this hour of the day. The dining room was quiet except for the efficient staff preparing for later when things really got hopping. Everything was well-organized. Stephanie’s sense of order was intact—except for the little matter of an afternoon with a most disorderly man.
She passed by the bar, scanning the stock, the glasses, the bartenders. A lone customer sat at the bar sipping one of their special hand-mixed drinks. As was her habit, she stopped to offer a smile and a welcome.
From the corner of her eye she spotted Daniel’s dark head. He poked around behind the bar and came out with a bottle of wine. He held it up, arching an eyebrow at her.
She pointed a finger in chastisement, but he only laughed and tapped a wide-strapped watch. “Two minutes. Back door.”
As soon as he was out of hearing distance, Sophie, one of the bartenders, leaned toward her. “You and Delicious Dan seem to be hitting it off nicely.”
Stephanie frosted her with a look. Grinning, Sophie slunk away to polish glasses.
Two minutes later, basket clenched in chilled fingers, Stephanie joined Daniel in the hallway. Her pulse, already racing, kicked up more when John Valentine walked in the door.
Her boss’s portly face lit up. “Daniel. Stephanie. What a delight!”
Beside her, Daniel stiffened. “John.”
They exchanged greetings, but Stephanie could feel the tension emanating from Daniel and the disappointment from her boss.
“So,” John said, somewhat too jauntily. “Are the two of you off somewhere, then?”
“Hyde Park and the Serpentine. Stephanie hasn’t been.” Daniel’s response was almost a challenge, as if he expected argument.
Guilt suffused Stephanie. She shouldn’t be running off to play with the boss’s son. “I hope you don’t mind, Mr Valentine.”
“Mind? Why should I? You hardly ever take an afternoon.”
Since his mild heart attack a few weeks back, Stephanie thought John looked tired. With all that was going on, she wondered how his health was holding up. Missing money was bad enough, but the family problems continued to mount. John’s wife was still angry about the arrival of the twins, though John longed to get to know them. Then there was his daughter, Louise. She’d had a whirlwind trip to Meridia and then, instead of working through her problems with John, had already jetted off again. This time to Australia to meet a woman who could be her biological sister. And none of that included the lifelong bitterness between him and his brother, Robert. How much more could the poor man handle?
“Are you sure, Mr Valentine?” she asked. “I can stay here if you prefer.” In fact, considering the way Daniel got under her skin, working would probably be wiser.
“I’m available if any problems arise in the dining room. Go on. Have a lovely time. I’m going to pop in and say hello to Dominic. He thinks he may have some news for me.”
With a fatherly pat to Daniel’s shoulder, he left them. Daniel stared at the closing door, expression wary and brooding.
“Are you all right?” Stephanie asked.
His jaw flexed. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
Then he took the basket from Stephanie’s hands, pushed the back door open, and led her out into the overcast day.
The walk to the park was much more pleasant than Stephanie had anticipated. After the encounter in the hallway, she’d expected dark silence. Instead Daniel provided a wickedly humorous and totally cynical commentary on élite London that had her laughing when they entered the beautiful park.
The laughter of children sailing toy boats along the Serpentine Lake wafted up to them from a hundred yards away. A cool breeze, in line with the glorious autumn day, played tag with the curls around Stephanie’s face. Daniel’s hair, too, rugged and unruly, was tossed by the wind. His was the kind of hair a woman wanted to touch, to smooth back from his high, intelligent brow, to run her fingers through.
The thoughts bothered her and she forced her attention to the wonders of the historic park, breathing in the scent of green grass and fall flowers. “This is a gorgeous park.”
“You can thank Henry VIII. He acquired it from the monks.”
“Acquired?”
The corners of his eyes crinkled. “In much the way he acquired everything.”
“Ah, bad Henry.”
“Not all bad. We’re here, aren’t we?”
Well, there was that.
They passed kite flyers, strolling mothers, moon-eyed lovers, and other picnickers before finding a clear shady area to spread their blanket.
Daniel did the honors, flapped the red and white cloth into the breeze and then collapsed on it as it settled to the grass.
“Here you go, m’lady,” he teased. And with one jean-jacketed arm, he exaggerated a flourish. “The finest seat in all of London.”
Legs carefully folded beneath her, Stephanie sat on the edge of the blanket as far from her companion as was polite. He puzzled her, did Daniel Stephens, vacillating from broody and cautious to light-hearted in a matter of minutes.
Stretched out upon his elbow like some big cat basking in the sun, he seemed happier in the outdoors, as though the inside of buildings couldn’t quite contain all there was of him. His mouth fascinating in motion, Daniel chatted tour-guide style about Rotten Row, famous duels, kings and queens, regaling her with stories of the famous old park while she emptied the contents of her picnic basket.
“I suppose we could have got food here,” he said motioning to the eating places sprinkled about.
“I wouldn’t have come for that. Only a picnic.”
“Woman, you crush my fragile ego. I thought you came for my charming company.”
She snorted. To her delight, he fell back, clutching his chest. “And now you laugh at my broken heart.”
Relaxed and enjoying herself more than she’d thought possible in the company of a barbarian, she thrust a sandwich toward him. “Here. Try this. Karl’s tarragon chicken salad is guaranteed to cure broken hearts as well as crushed egos.”
“Yes, the way to a man’s heart and all that.” He unwrapped the sandwich and took a man-sized bite. “Mmm. Not sheep’s blood or lizard’s eyes, but it will do.”
“You haven’t actually eaten that sort of thing?”
He arched a wicked brow. “When in Rome, do as the Romans. When in Africa…”
She lifted a bunch of fat grapes. “Suddenly, these don’t look too tasty.”
“Very similar to lizard’s eyes. Right down to the squish.”
She made a stop-sign with her palm. “Hush.”
Unrepentant but thankfully silent, he reached for the grapes. With an air of mischief he studied one closely, then met Stephanie’s gaze before popping it into his mouth.
Refusing to watch, Stephanie said, “If we have time later, I’d like to walk awhile.”
“We’ll make the time.” He tossed a grape into her lap. “A long walk after a picnic is good for the soul.”
She could certainly use that.
“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been on one.” She tossed the grape back to him. It thudded against his chest.
“You’ve never been on a walk?” Head back, Daniel threw a grape high into the air and caught it in his mouth.
Stephanie tried to look away and failed. “No, silly. A picnic.”
Another grape had winged upward. Daniel let it plop onto the blanket uncaught.
“Never? No childhood jaunts to the country? No egg sandwiches in the garden?”
“No. My family was far too stuffy for that. Little girls sat at the dinner table, learned to play hostess, and never, ever got dirty.”
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/linda-goodnight/married-under-the-mistletoe/) на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.