“I’ll come with you.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“Yeah, it is. I brought my own veggie burger. Left it in the kitchen.”
She glanced at his heavily muscled body, evident even beneath the T-shirt and jeans. “Veggie burger?” she said doubtfully, walking toward the patio door that led to her parents’ ample kitchen. “Since when?” In high school, he’d once sat in their kitchen and scarfed down four hot dogs and half a large pepperoni pizza.
“I consider my body a temple.” Mischief undercut his tone. He reached the door, opened it and held it open, his arm high above her head, looking down at her as she passed through. She caught his wink. “Have to make up for all those years of debauchery.”
He was angling for a response. “Careful you don’t change too quickly,” she replied, “you wouldn’t want to send yourself into shock.”
Ethan’s easy laughter rang through the kitchen. Her body responded to the sound, sending shivers over her skin. Darn.
“I was kidding about the veggie burger. I only like them if they have meat and cheese.” He went straight to the refrigerator and peered in. “That’s a lot of cheesecake.” He began to stack the boxes in his arms.
“I’ll do it,” she protested.
Paying no attention, he deposited the cakes on the center island and opened the white cardboard. “Rocky road,” he murmured. Knowing exactly where to look in her mother’s cabinets, he retrieved a plate and fork.
“Stop!” she ordered as he began to work a knife into the dessert. “I told you, those aren’t supposed to be sliced until they’ve sat at room temperature for twenty minutes.”
“A rule clearly intended to be broken. Like so many other rules,” he purred, sliding a slice of the mile-high cheesecake onto the plate.
“I thought you were treating your body like a temple.”
“I am. I’m bringing it an offering.” Ethan seemed to let the bite melt in his mouth. His eyes half closed. “Mmm-mmm.”
Gemma’s knees went weak. How did he do that? How did he make eating look sexy? If she floated the fork through the air the way he was doing, she’d probably drop a chunk on her bosom. No wonder he’d garnered as much celebrity for his sex appeal as he had for playing football. Suddenly, Gemma felt very, very hungry, but not for cheesecake.
Fiddlesticks. Ethan Ladd short-circuited her brain and hampered her logic. It had been different when she had a fiancé. William was intelligent, educated, taught at the same college as her and was pretty much perfect for her. They’d met in the library, for crying out loud. Engaged to William Munson, Gemma had no longer thought about men who were wrong for her. She’d stopped reacting when Ethan’s name came up or when she heard he was in town, working on the McMansion he’d built on four acres that backed up to Long River. She had become neutral.
She needed another fiancé, stat.
“Gemma? Hey, Gemma!”
Ethan’s voice made her jump. “What?”
“I said, are you sure you won’t join me?” He held his fork out to her, his eyes half closed in a way that made him look as if he’d just rolled out of bed. Or was still in it.
Oh, yes, I’ll join you... “No! Absolutely not.” She marched around the counter and closed the box. Reaching into the cabinet beneath the center island, she withdrew a large silver tray she had polished earlier in the week.
In a moment, today’s guests would emerge from the family room, laughing and ribbing her about her appearance on TV. Elyse would be grinning on the outside, but Gemma knew her perfection-seeking sister was crying on the inside, because Gemma had marred her big moment. So she would try to make amends—again—by earning a spot in the bridesmaids hall of fame.
A few months ago, she’d ordered a book about fruit and vegetable carving online and had dedicated more hours to perfecting watermelon roses than she had spent on her master’s thesis.
“I need to prepare the dessert tray,” she told Ethan, waving him toward the other part of the house. “You have a legion of fans out there. Why don’t you bask in the glory of being Thunder Ridge’s favorite son?”
“Well, now, that’s exactly why I don’t want to be in the other room. All that attention tends to make my head swell, and I’m working on humility.”
He gave her such a deliberately innocent expression that Gemma felt a genuine smile tickle her lips. The man was wearing a Bulgari wristwatch and designer jeans. And the home he’d built? It was so massive and completely out of proportion with any other home in the area, it shouted, “Hey, everyone, a really, really rich dude lives here.”
Seeing her smile, Ethan leaned against the kitchen counter and tilted his head. “How about I help you with the dessert? I promise not to eat any more cheesecake. Scout’s honor.”
A wave of déjà vu hit her: once before, he’d offered to spend time with her, to take her to senior homecoming dance, in fact. And that had been a disaster.
Before she could courteously decline his offer, Ethan’s cell phone rang. He used Kenny Chesney’s “The Boys of Fall” as his ringtone.
“Thought I silenced that.” He grimaced. “’Scuse me.” Into the phone, he said, “Ethan here.”
While he listened to the caller, Gemma tortured herself with memories: the thrill of believing that Ethan wanted to take her to homecoming. Yes, he’d been two years younger, but there hadn’t been a senior girl at Thunder Ridge High who wouldn’t have jumped at the chance to date him. And Gemma, she had...well, she’d...
Oh, go on, admit it. We’re all adults here.
With Ethan turned half away from her, she looked at the massive squared shoulders and sighed. Every time he’d come to her house with Scott, she’d fantasized he was there to see her. That the two of them were going to hang out, study together, talk about music and books and movies and sports teams. Not that she was into sports, but with her photographic memory it hadn’t taken all that long to memorize the stats for every player in the NFL, so that if he decided he wanted to get to know her one day, she would be ready with the kind of conversation he was likely to enjoy.
“What the hell are you talking about?” Ethan’s tone was sharp and concerned, jerking Gemma back to the moment at hand.
Oookay. She moved about self-consciously, withdrawing a tray of edible flowers with which to decorate the dessert while she pretended not to eavesdrop. Which, of course, she was.
“No, I was not aware. Where is she?” Ethan spoke with his jaw so tight, the words had trouble emerging. “That won’t be necessary. I’ll get ahold of her myself...I see. Yes, do that. I’ll be available by phone.”
There was silence. The heaviest silence Gemma had ever heard. She worked at her corner of the center island, her face turned away from Ethan, wondering if she should speak. She had no idea what the phone call was about, but his distress was obvious, and she felt a strong desire to say something comforting.
When
