‘Guess I’d better get my penguin suit dry-cleaned,’ Luke muttered.
Jess powered down her laptop and sat back and looked at him. He was leaning against the counter, ankles crossed, the foot of his wine glass resting against his arm. His eyes were warm and relaxed and Jess felt her throat tighten. It was such a nice end to a busy day: a man cooking her supper and looking as if he wanted to slurp her up. Casually romantic...
Jess gave herself a sharp mental slap. If she was going to start having romantic fantasies about Luke then she shouldn’t be in his kitchen, in his personal space.
Jess’s mobile rang and the glass in her hand wobbled. Putting the glass down, she saw the call was from her eldest brother, Nick, and she smiled. For far too many years she hadn’t received any calls from Nick, and it still gave her a kick to see his name on her caller display.
‘Hey, you,’ she crooned. ‘It’s so good to hear from you.’
As Nick started to speak she caught Luke’s frown and asked Nick to hold on. Excusing herself, she walked out of the kitchen to the hall and into Nick’s living room. Another painting dominated the room—a beach scene this time, of a deserted cottage and the wild and cold Atlantic ocean. It was atmospheric, but every brushstroke seemed saturated with loneliness. Luke’s mother’s work...
Jess shivered and went to stand by the fire. ‘Sorry, run that by me again?’
Jess slapped her mobile against her hand as she walked back into the kitchen, her thoughts a million miles away. She missed the searching look Luke sent her as she picked up her glass and drained the contents.
‘Hey!’ Luke protested. ‘That’s fifteen years old. If you’re going to throw it down your throat I’ll give you something cheaper.’
Jess looked at her glass and grimaced. ‘Sorry.’
‘Problem?’ Luke nodded at her mobile. ‘Bad news?’
‘Not bad news. Just trying to manage my family. That was Nick, my oldest brother, being bossy and trying to arrange my life for me.’
‘You don’t sound particularly upset.’
Jess half smiled. ‘To be honest, he’s the only one I accept it from. He was out of my life for so long that it’s still a bit of a thrill to have him in it. I’m prepared to forgive his managing ways. Probably not for much longer, though.’
‘And the problem is...?’ Luke stirred the bolognaise mixture and dashed some olive oil into a pot of water, cranking the gas high to get it to boil.
‘Next weekend is a long weekend—Friday is a national holiday.’
‘Yes. So?’
‘My family have traditionally always spent that weekend together. All the siblings, their kids, my parents, me... We usually go away somewhere for those couple of days. I told them I couldn’t make this year because I’m swamped, and because...’ Jess stopped and winced.
Luke sent her a look that insisted she finish her sentence. When she didn’t speak, he crossed over to her, tipped her chin so that she had to look at him and lifted his eyebrows. ‘And because...?’
‘Because they keep dropping hints about my ex and me getting back together. He’s good friends with three of my brothers. He often spent that weekend with us.’
‘But you told your family it was over? Why are they pressuring you?’ Luke asked, puzzled.
‘Because Grant has said that he wouldn’t mind us getting back together and I was iffy about why we broke up. My brothers think I’m being temperamental and picky and just need to see what I’ve lost. Grant is a good guy in their eyes.’ Jess shoved her hand into her hair in frustration.
‘He cheated on you,’ Luke said with utter certainty.
Jess’s mouth fell open. When she could find words, Jess spoke again. ‘How did you know that?’
Luke tapped her nose before going back to the stove. ‘I saw it in your eyes. Why didn’t you tell your family?’
Jess dropped into a chair and rested her elbows on the table. ‘Partly pride. He made a fool of me and, as I said, they are friends. Have been for years... That makes it worse. If they find out about him cheating, something awful might happen.’
Luke stopped stirring the sauce and looked at her, surprised. ‘They’d beat him up?’
Jess pulled a face. ‘They wouldn’t mean to. But my brothers are very protective over me. Grant will say something stupid and a fist will fly...’
‘Aren’t you overreacting?’
Jess took a sip of wine and looked at Luke over the rim. ‘When I was five I was bullied at school. My brothers hung the bully—a girl—on a hook. All four Sherwood boys, ranging from six to ten, ended up in the principal’s office.’