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“A goat-cheese-and-arugula salad, followed by a grilled-chicken sandwich with a pesto sauce on warm focaccia bread, with fresh berries and crème anglaise for dessert.”
Color her hungry, she thought as her stomach gave a rumble.
“Impressive. Let me guess. You dated a chef.”
“Hey, that’s a little judgmental. The summer Todd and I were twenty, our parents took us on a Mediterranean cruise for a month. We would rather have hit Europe on our own, but they insisted, so we went. It was a small ship with not much to do and nearly everyone on it was retired. I think the captain was afraid Todd and I would start trouble because he arranged for daily cooking classes. I hated the first couple, but then I got into the whole thing. Now I cook.”
Impressive, she thought. “And Todd?”
Ryan grinned. “He flirted with the cocktail waitress.”
He turned on the oven, set a grill pan on the six-burner stove, then seasoned two chicken breasts. After collecting a small but powerful-looking food processor, he rinsed off the basil, then dried it with a towel.
“You’re really cooking,” she said. “I’m sorry, but this is very unusual for me.”
“You should see what I can do with a potato.”
It wasn’t a side of him she would have expected. With his money and easy good looks, he could have spent his life ordering room service.
As he sprinkled various spices on the bread dough he’d flattened on a cookie sheet, she found herself getting caught up in the way he moved his hands—the confidence and finesse. Without wanting to, she remembered those hands on her body. For a guy who wore a suit and tie, he was very good at manual labor.
And she was an idiot. This was not a good time for R-rated flashbacks. She was here to get to know the father of her child. Oh, but if things were different she would be all over him like mascara on silk.
The bread went in the oven, the chicken went on the grill pan and then he walked to the refrigerator and pulled out a pitcher with a pinkish tea mixture, sliced lemons and ice cubes.
“Herbal,” he said as he poured them each a glass. “No caffeine.”
“Thanks.” She sipped. The flavor was more citrus than tea, but it was nice. “It’s good.”
“I’m glad you like it.”
“Okay, you win. I’m officially confused. Is this really you?” she asked.
“Want to see some ID?”
“You know what I mean. You’re …”
“Normal?” he offered.
“Yes. Normal. Nothing like the high-powered entrepreneur who hates women.”
He winced. “I don’t hate women. I like them.”
“As long as you can teach them lessons.” She held up her hand. “Sorry. I’m breaking the rules. Let’s just say this is an interesting side of you. And now we can move on to safer topics. Tell me about what your life was like growing up.”
He eyed her as he tore up the arugula and dropped it into a bowl. “That could get me into trouble.”
“How?”
“Let me count the ways. But I’ll play along. Todd and I were born within a couple of months of each other so we’ve always been close. Our fathers are brothers, so we traveled together a lot, went to the same schools, hung out on vacations.”
“Public school?” she asked sweetly, then sipped her drink. She had already guessed the answer, but she confessed she didn’t mind seeing him defensive.
“Private. Prep.”
“Ah.”
He glared at her, then continued. “We both went to Stanford. There was some talk of Princeton or Yale, but we weren’t interested. Our lives were in California. Snow was for ski vacations, not everyday life.”
“Skiing in Gstaad?” she asked.
“All over. And before you start mocking me—”
“I would never do that!”
He ignored her. “I want to point out that Ruth came from money. This could have been your life, too.”
“I can understand the words, but I’ll admit I can’t make the concept real. Mom always said her parents were dead and we believed her.”
“But if things had been different …” he began.
She looked at him. “Then you and I would have grown up together. We would have been like brother and sister.”
Ryan grimaced. Not exactly the direction he wanted them to go. He thought of Julie as many things, but a sister wasn’t one of them.
As he worked, he kept getting distracted by her presence. She was so alive, so vibrant. It was as if she were the only color in the room.
He liked the way she challenged him, and how she tried to be fair. He also liked the way she looked in her soft pink sweater that just hinted at the curves beneath. Curves he remembered and ached to touch and taste again.
“Or maybe we would have been each other’s first love,” she said.
“I like that better,” he told her.
“I can see it all now. The wonder and thrill of that first kiss. Going to each other’s prom.”
“You’d be attending a private girls school,” he said with a grin. “In a uniform.”
“I’m ignoring you. We would have parted tearfully before college, tried to keep in touch, but you were incapable of being faithful. I made a surprise trip to your dorm and found you with that redhead.”
“Hey—why do I have to be the bad guy? I’ve never been unfaithful.”
Her blue eyes widened slightly. “Why don’t I believe that?”
“I don’t know, but it’s true. I have references.”
She seemed to consider that for a second. “Okay, so we just drift apart. Then on our next holiday together, Todd comes on to me. You’re crushed and while the two of you are fighting I run off with the brilliant computer-science major I met in the library.”
“Do I live a life of bitterness and regret?”
“Maybe. But eventually you find someone. A spinster librarian who reads Emily Dickinson to you every night.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“Actually, you like it a lot.”
“So you still hate me, huh?” he asked.
She tilted her head and her long, blond hair tumbled across her shoulder. “Not as much as I should.”
He turned the chicken and shook his head. “I wish we’d met another way. I wish I’d run into you at the beach or the grocery store or at a party.”
“Ryan, don’t.”
“Why not? We get along. We got along that first night, we’re getting along now.”
“I don’t know how much of that first night was real and how much of it was your agenda. Who are you really?”
“I’m trying to show you.” And to be patient. Her points were valid. As much as he didn’t like it, he respected her right to be cautious.
“Okay, I’m good with that,” she said. “I’m trying, Ryan. I’m not being difficult on purpose.”
“It’s just a happy by-product?”
“Kind of.”
“So tell me about your life,” he said. “You know all about the tragedy of my childhood.”
She smiled and his gut tightened. Imagine what she could do to him if she worked at it.
“My sisters and I were pretty happy. There wasn’t a lot of money and no private schools with or without uniforms, but that was fine with us.”
“Your dad died?”
She paused and for the first time since arriving, looked uncomfortable.
“No, he’s alive.”
What was the problem? Divorce happened all the time.
“My parents are still married,” she said. “They have a unique relationship. My dad is one of those guys who can’t settle down. He’s charming and funny and everyone wants to be around him.”
Everyone but her, Ryan thought, watching the emotions play across her face. Her father had obviously hurt her.
“He disappears,” she continued. “He’ll show up for a few weeks, much to the delight of my mother who adores him. He’ll shower us with presents and tell us stories and get involved in our lives and then he disappears. There’s never any warning and more often than not, he cleans out my mom’s bank account. A few months later, he sends a check for three or four times that amount. A few months after that, he shows up again and we’re off.”
“That had to be hard on you,” Ryan said.
“It wasn’t my favorite way of life. I wanted him to stay and if he couldn’t stay I wanted him gone. For so long I hated how much I loved him when he was around and how awful I felt when he left. I hated seeing my sisters so sad and listening to my mother cry.”
She stiffened, as if she hadn’t meant to say that much. “It’s better now,” she said casually. “I don’t get involved.”
Was that true? Was Julie really able to cut herself off from her father or did she simply avoid any emotion where he was concerned?
“How does your mom handle it?” he asked.
“She loves him.” Julie’s expression was both indulgent and confused. “I don’t get it, but she does. She’s loved him from the moment she first saw him. She walked away from her family just to be with him. From that life of wealth and privilege, from her parents. Your uncle was her stepfather, but he’d been a part of her life since she’d been a baby. As far as she was concerned, he was her father. According to her, it was for the best. She’s never looked back, never had regrets.”
He checked on the bread, then removed the chicken from the grill. The salad was ready. Once the bread was done, he would make the pesto and they’d be ready to eat.
“I admire her ability to stand by her decision,” he said. “That takes courage.”
“I think being totally cut off from her family helped. It wasn’t as if they would have welcomed her back.”
“Her father wouldn’t have,” he told her. “But Ruth would have. She’s a soft-hearted old bird. She’d bristly and tough on the outside, but inside, she’s mush.”
“I haven’t seen that side of her. She was pretty intimidating when she came to visit.”
He smiled. “You? Intimidated? I don’t believe it.”
She laughed. “Okay, I was nervous. You obviously care about her. I can hear it in your voice. I mean this in the nicest possible way—why? She tried to get one of us to marry your cousin by bribing us. That’s not exactly sweet.”
“But it’s vintage Ruth. She loves to meddle, but she’s also always been a big part of my life. Our parents traveled constantly and when they were gone, Todd and I lived with Ruth. She had an incredible old house in Bel Air. The grounds were massive, two or three acres at least. We’d spend summers getting lost in the gardens. When we were at school, she’d show up for no reason, pull us out of classes and take us to the beach or Disneyland.”
“That sounds nice.” Doubt filled her voice.
“It was. You’ll have to get to know her.”
“I can’t wait. At least the house will be cool if she asks me to visit.”
“She doesn’t live there anymore. She gave it to her daughter, who’s the oldest of the two sisters and she passed it along to Todd.”
Julie stared at him. “Todd lives in an old Bel Air mansion?”
“Does that change anything? Are you sorry he wasn’t the one on the date?”
She laughed. “No. It makes him even more mock-able. What’s a single guy doing with a house like that? It must be a museum.”
“It is. Why do you find that so funny?”
“I don’t know, but I can’t wait to tell my sisters. Okay, my good manners are kicking in. How can I help?”
“You could set the table.”
“Great. Show me where to wash my hands?”
“Sure.”
He led her to the guest bathroom off the dining area. She glanced around at the white tile, marble floor and white fixtures, then returned her attention to him.
