Seduction by the Book

“You know how to do that?”

She tsked at him. “I’ve been taking cooking lessons from your French chef. I even wrote down the instructions.”

“I can’t imagine that you’d want lessons in cooking,” he said unwarily as he finished the coffee. “Didn’t you tell me that you came from a big Irish family? I thought…”

“What?” she interrupted as she stood still and glared at him. “That poor kids from the other side of the tracks had better learn to feed themselves? Or maybe that all Irishmen ate nothing but boiled potatoes and wouldn’t be interested in French cooking.”

“No, not at all. I didn’t mean…” Whatever he’d said was the wrong thing and he didn’t know how to make it right.

Annie shook her head and then smiled. “Never mind. I overreacted. Sorry. Sit down and I’ll start the show.”

She lit the small propane torch, ran the flame over the white fluffy top of the pie and the smell of burnt sugar suddenly filled the air. “Oh, by all the saints, how I love the way that smells,” she moaned.

And oh how he loved the way she had closed her eyes and groaned in pleasure. It was a sensual, earthy sound that put stinging darts of desire right down his spine.

But he desperately needed to stop listening and looking…stop everything when it came to her. This was all wrong. He simply could not sit here lusting after her. For him to even promote their burgeoning friendship would be dishonorable.

His feelings toward her ran too strong. If there was one thing he had learned in his life, it was that friendships didn’t last. And when they were ripped away, a huge part of your soul went with them.

No, friendship and love were illusions. He had never in his life been in love and didn’t even have the foggiest idea what that emotion would be like. His one and only friendship had been with Christina and that had obviously worked out in the worst possible way.

So Nick was determined to keep his distance from Annie. He had even come to the conclusion that after the hurricane, he would be forced to let her go. Before it was too late.

When the dessert was perfectly browned, Annie poured the coffee and sat down at the table with him. Her eyes blazed as she lifted the fork and drew hot sugar and cold custard into her mouth.

“This is so decadent. My mother would call this combination of tastes a sin.”

Only one of the many ways of putting yourself in hell, Nick thought. He had to get her talking. Sitting close and watching her lick the sugar off her lips was slowly but very surely sending him straight to the devil.

“Tell me about your mother,” he said as he pushed his half-eaten dessert aside. “Tell me about your whole family.”

She looked up at him with wide eyes. “Really? There’s a gazillion of them. It might take some time.”

“A gazillion?” he asked with a chuckle. “How many is that exactly?”

“Well, I’ve told you that I have three brothers and three sisters…all older. My mother is one of ten children, and my father is the youngest of thirteen. And I have nine nieces and nephews and sixty cousins—so far.”

“I guess that does qualify as a gazillion. I was an only child. I have a couple of cousins that live in the U.S., but I can’t really imagine having as much family as you. Do you all live near each other in Boston?”

“Mostly,” she said as she pushed her empty plate aside and took a sip of coffee. “Two of my cousins joined the army and went off for a while. But when their hitches were up, they came right back home to settle down.

“I do have one daring uncle who took his family back to the homeland to live,” she continued. “Claimed he could only breathe the air if he was in Ireland.”

Nick caught the sour facial expression. “Interesting. Ever give much thought to moving to Ireland yourself?”

“Me? No. It would be too much like home—everyone knows everyone else’s business and has to put their two cents worth into it.”

“Your family are gossips?”

“It’s more like they all just read each other’s minds…and then don’t like what they see and insist on correcting the other person’s shortcomings. My mother is the worst of the lot.” She said the last with a twinkle in her eyes.

“My mother tends to be a busybody, too.”

“Your mother is a saint! You have no idea what a professional ‘stick-her-nose-in’ can be like.”

He laughed, maybe harder than he had in years. Maybe ever. Annie was a true gem. A tempting emerald set in a ruby cluster, and he was beginning to covet her more than he should—much more than he could stand at the moment.

“Tell me about what it was like to grow up with so many brothers and sisters,” he said quickly when his thoughts strayed off the topic again.

She shrugged and sighed. “There’s good things and bad about it.”

“Tell me something good.”

“You are never lonely.”

“Well, that sounds nice. Now tell me something bad.”

“You are never lonely,” she said with a wicked grin.

Nick smiled but Annie could see shadows behind his eyes. She knew he was lonely. He’d locked himself up here on his island and had spent so many hours alone since his wife had died that it was a small wonder he still knew how to speak to other human beings at all.

He did speak to her, though. He spoke straight to her heart—with words or without. She could feel his pain in her chest right now.

But she knew she wouldn’t be the one to break the spell on him. What he needed was some sophisticated blond princess, not a scraggly redheaded Irish kid from the poor side of town.

“Why do you spend all your time alone, Nick?” she asked brazenly, trying to break his bad mood. “You’re like a prince who’s been put under a spell. It seems you should have friends…and girlfriends. I can’t understand why you don’t.”

“My friend…the one woman who was my only girlfriend and my wife…died,” he said softly. “It would dishonor her memory if I…” He stopped and looked guilt-stricken.

“You don’t have to tell me, Nick. I really don’t need to understand. It’s your life.” She watched the deep blue in his eyes turn stormy. “But I’m a good listener in case you need one.”

He hung his head and silently stared down into his coffee cup.

“My grandmother is a very great lady,” Annie hurriedly told him with a small laugh. “And really old. She always says that it’s good to talk about people who have gone on to heaven before us. Talking about them keeps their memories fresh and alive. Telling stories about lost loved ones is a way to see them clearly in your mind and to bring them closer to your heart again.”

Nick gave her a small shake of his head but didn’t look up or make a sound.

“Of course, Gran doesn’t just tell stories about family and friends,” Annie added. “Once she starts the stories, she goes on to tell the ones she learned in her childhood in Ireland. Those are wonderful stories about mysticism and magic—elves and sorcerers. I could…”

“I met a woman with magic,” Nick interrupted. “It was in New Orleans six months ago right before I hired you.”

Annie silently gave a sigh of relief. He was actually talking again. Thank heaven.

“She was an old gypsy and she gave me a book,” he added with a scowl.

“A book?”

Nick nodded once and his eyes became glazed. “It was the oddest thing. She gave me this obviously expensive and antique book and said it was my destiny. But then she disappeared before she told me why.”