started out as lumps of dough, rolled and kneaded at the table? Which led, in turn, to using sliced bread to wipe your hands.’
What the hell? ‘Er—no, I didn’t know that.’ Thrown. Completely thrown.
Extra-bright smile. ‘But you were asking about Moonbeam. Actually, it’s because of her that I’m sitting here with you. She and Jonathan dated as teenagers.’
He was staring again—couldn’t help it. ‘No way!’
‘Yes way! But Moon realised pretty quickly that she’d need to swap an X for a Y chromosome if their relationship was going to get to the next level, even though Jon adored her. So—long story short—she encouraged Jon to leap out of the closet, with me hooked in for moral support, and the three of us became super-close—like a ménage à trois minus the sex. And voilà—here I am, planning Jon’s wedding to your brother.’ Her brilliant smile slipped. ‘One of the reasons I miss Jon so much is because he’s a link to my sister.’
Jon dating a girl. Ménage à trois minus the sex. Bread as table napkins? Leo didn’t know what to say.
‘Anyway,’ she went on, ‘I don’t have to explain that to you. I know you miss your brother too.’
‘It can’t compare.’
‘Yeah, I guess...I guess you can jump on a plane if you need to see Caleb.’
‘That’s more likely to happen in reverse.’
‘You mean him jumping on a plane? Oh, no, I see—him needing to see you.’ She looked him over. ‘I get that. You’re the dominant one, you’re the one doling out the goods, and you don’t need to see anyone.’
The perceptiveness startled him.
‘So no emotional combustions! It’s a good way to be,’ she went on. ‘In fact my approach to relationships is based on achieving a similar core of aloofness, of control. Of mastery over my emotions.’
He was a little awed. ‘Your approach to relationships?’
‘Yes. Separating sex from love, for example—you know, like that ménage à trois with me, Jon, and Moon. You have to agree that it makes life easier.’
‘Easier, maybe. Not better.’
‘Of course it’s easiest to leave the love out altogether. That’s what I do now.’
‘What? Why?’
She tapped her chest lightly, over her heart. ‘No room in here.’
‘You’re not that type of person.’
‘Well, I do have to work hard at it,’ she conceded.
‘What? Why?’ God, he was repeating himself!
‘Because my natural inclination is to care too much about people. I have to take precautions to guard against that.’
‘What? Why?’ Nope—he was not doing another repeat! ‘I mean, what are you scared of?’
‘Pain,’ she said simply. ‘Because it hurts. To care deeply. It hurts.’
Leo wanted to tell her the whole argument was ridiculous, but the words wouldn’t come. What did he know? He was living proof that sex was usually loveless, no matter how much you wished otherwise.
At least Sunshine could actually touch a person without having a panic attack, so she was way ahead of him. For sure Gary and Ben wouldn’t have let Sunshine have those mini-meltdowns and sat there like blockheads, handing her restaurant napkins. How was he supposed to find what Caleb had when he couldn’t put his arms around a tearful woman? Did he even deserve to, stunted as he was?
‘But we were talking about embalming,’ Sunshine said, and she was twinkling again. ‘Which is much more interesting. A very technical and responsible job. And it does make you think, doesn’t it?’
Leo, reeling from the various changes in conversation he’d been subjected to for the past few minutes—shoes, pumpkins, napkins, sex, love, embalming, napkins—could only repeat stupidly, ‘Think...?’
‘Well, cremation or burial? It’s something we all need to plan for. If you’re interested—as you should be, if you ride a motorbike—I’m sure Ben would be happy to—’
‘Er, no—that’s fine, thanks.’ Leo got to his feet with alacrity. ‘I’ll send over that drink.’
* * *
Halfway through the night, Leo poked his head out of the kitchen. Ostensibly to gauge how the place was humming along, but really—he was honest enough to admit it—to check out Sunshine’s date.
And Ben the embalmer was handsome enough to give Alexander Skarsgard a run for his money. Like a freaking Viking!
They’d ordered the roast leg of lamb—a sharing dish that came with crispy roast potatoes, crusty bread rolls and assorted side dishes and condiments. Enough food to feed the entire cast of The Hobbit, including the trolls.
Twice more Leo peered out at them. Both times Ben was laughing and Sunshine was about to shove a laden fork in her mouth. Leo was starting to think Sunshine could single-handedly have eating classified as a championship sport.
Since he thought dining with a woman who actually ate would make a nice change, he didn’t know why the sight of Sunshine chomping up a storm with Ben was so annoying.
But it was. Very, very annoying.
Another laugh floated through the restaurant and into his straining ears.
Right! He ripped off his apron. He was going to find out what the hell was so funny.
He washed his hands, changed into a clean chef’s jacket and headed out.
Sunshine looked up, startled. ‘Leo! This is a surprise.’
She quickly performed introductions as one of the waiting staff rushed to find a spare chair for Leo, who was examining the almost demolished lamb leg.
Leo raised his eyebrows. ‘Didn’t like it, huh?’ he said, settling into the quickly produced chair.
Sunshine groaned. ‘Not funny. I’ll have to start dieting tomorrow.’
‘That will be a one-day wonder,’ Ben said, and winked at Sunshine.
Winked! Who the hell winked at people?
Sunshine laughed. ‘Or you could kiss me instead, Ben, because—interestingly—kissing burns six and half calories per minute. As long as it’s passionate.’ She pursed her lips. ‘I guess passion supersizes the metabolic effect.’
Ben, in the process of sipping his wine, choked. ‘Where do you get all these facts?’
‘The internet.’
Ben grinned. ‘Better brush up on your arithmetic, Sunny, because if I kiss you for, say, fifteen minutes—and any longer
