“It had been a while for me so I guess that makes it different. It wasn’t serious.” If she said it enough times, she might even start to believe it.
“But you wish it was?”
“I’m not letting myself think like that.” She closed the fridge door, thinking that maybe she had more self-control than she thought. She wasn’t great at resisting sugar, or lipstick, but she was doing pretty well resisting her feelings for Lucas.
Over the next few days Lucas spent most of his time closeted in his study, only emerging to eat the meals she prepared. She wondered if he was isolating himself because he needed to work or because the intensity of their relationship was starting to get to him, too. There was as much meaning in their silences as there was
in the words they exchanged. There were times when she thought she might burst into flames.
And then there were the moments she worried that by being alone in his office he’d retreated back into his own private hell. And she couldn’t help wondering whether he was thinking of her at all while he brooded.
As promised, he’d turned over the third bedroom for her to use as an office. He’d moved the desk, giving her a view across the city and the park.
It took all her self-discipline not to spend all day staring out of the window.
She kept her laptop there, and her planner, and checked in regularly with Paige and Frankie. On one evening she joined them for an event in midtown, but other than that almost all her work was conducted on the phone and the internet. Her working day was spent organizing food for events, liaising with venues and clients. The rest of her time was spent in the kitchen.
Christmas had been a time of year she and her grandmother had both treasured and memories were everywhere, in flavors and fragrance, in textures and taste. There were some dishes she hadn’t cooked since her grandmother’s death, but she cooked them for Lucas and discovered that there was comfort as well as sadness and nostalgia in doing so.
Despite, or perhaps because of, his preoccupation with his book, Lucas was an appreciative audience. He was complimentary about everything she prepared, and seemed genuinely interested in her creative process.
Dinner became the most important meal of the day for her, because it was the only real time they spent together. Breakfast was often eaten standing up, lunch was equally quick and sometimes Lucas simply loaded his plate and took it back to his office.
Dinner was the one meal he lingered over. He always questioned her carefully about what they were having, and then chose a wine he thought would complement the food. She was impressed by his expertise.
“So some of the wines you have are very old and very valuable?”
“Yes.”
“And sometimes you buy them at auction?”
“That’s right.” He poured wine into a glass and handed it to her. “Try it. Tell me what you think.”
The first time he’d asked her to do that she’d been embarrassed. She knew nothing about wine, and wasn’t about to try to bullshit her way past an expert.
“I like it. That’s all I can tell you.”
“Why do you like it?”
“Because it tastes good and makes me want to finish the whole bottle.” She smiled over the rim of her glass. “Sorry to disappoint you, but I don’t get any more technical than that. How did you learn about wine?”
“From my father.” He topped off his own glass. “It’s his hobby. Growing up, we used to tour vineyards in California, New Zealand and France.”
Between his upbringing and his book tours, he was well traveled.
“I’ve only ever been to Europe once. I spent a month working in a kitchen in Paris.” She took another sip of the wine. “You’ve been everywhere.”
“Not everywhere, and even when I travel I don’t see much of the places I stay. If it’s a book tour then invariably all I see is the airport, the inside of a hotel and a bookstore, before moving on to the next place. Tell me more about Paris. What did you love about it?”
“So many things. The bread, the passion for cooking, the quality of ingredients.”
She was flattered by his interest in her. She’d been on dates with men who seemed to want only to talk about themselves. Lucas asked questions and paid attention to the answers.
He was a generous listener and she found herself telling him about her upbringing, and small details about her grandmother that she hadn’t shared with anyone else.
“Puffin Island is small, so our house was always full of people. After Gramps died, we didn’t have to cook for about six months. There was always a casserole on the doorstep. And Grams loved that. She worried that it was just the two of us and she wanted to make sure there were plenty of people in my life, so she used to cook constantly and invite people over to sample what she’d produced.”
They moved away from the subject but a few nights later he raised it again.