Praise for Sarah Morgan

‘Full of romance and sparkle’

—Lovereading

‘Morgan is a magician with words.’

—RT Book Reviews

‘Sarah Morgan continues to hang out on my autobuy list and each book of hers that I discover is a treat.’

—Smart Bitches, Trashy Books

‘Morgan’s brilliant talent never ceases to amaze.’

—RT Book Reviews

‘Dear Ms Morgan, I’m always on the lookout for a new book by you …’

—Dear Author blog

SARAH MORGAN is the bestselling author of Sleigh Bells in the Snow. As a child Sarah dreamed of being a writer and, although she took a few interesting detours on the way, she is now living that dream. With her writing career she has successfully combined business with pleasure and she firmly believes that reading romance is one of the most satisfying and fat-free escapist pleasures available. Her stories are unashamedly optimistic and she is always pleased when she receives letters from readers saying that her books have helped them through hard times.

Sarah lives near London with her husband and two children, who innocently provide an endless supply of authentic dialogue. When she isn’t writing or reading Sarah enjoys music, movies and any activity that takes her outdoors.

Readers can find out more about Sarah and her books from her website: www.sarahmorgan.com. She can also be found on Facebook and Twitter.

Suddenly Last Summer
Sarah Morgan

COPYRIGHT

HQ

An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2014

Copyright © Sarah Morgan 2014

Sarah Morgan asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Ebook Edition © June 2014 ISBN: 9781472054869

Version: 2018-05-23

Dear Reader,

They say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, so when fiery French chef Élise Bonnet meets supercool surgeon Sean O’Neil, there should be nothing standing in the way of true love. Except neither is interested in true love.

Like his two brothers, Sean grew up at the beautiful Snow Crystal Resort in Vermont, but he couldn’t wait to get away, to pursue his career as a surgeon and enjoy life in a big city. Reluctant to make the sacrifices he believes come with a long-term relationship, he has stayed resolutely single. But when circumstances force him to return home, he finds himself confronting more than just his conflicted feelings about his family.

Writing this story was so much fun. I loved bringing together two characters determined to stay apart and I loved writing about Snow Crystal in the summer. It also made me hungry, because I was forced to spend hours drooling over Vermont cookery books (and quite a few bottles of pinot noir just might have been harmed during the research process, but we won’t talk about that). Unfortunately, writing leaves me little or no time to shop, so sadly the chances of finding a delicious, freshly baked loaf of rosemary and sea-salt bread in my kitchen are about as likely as opening my front door to find Henry Cavill standing there wearing nothing but a towel. (Wait! Is that the doorbell …?)

Suddenly Last Summer is the second book in my O’Neil Brothers series, but you don’t have to have read the first one for it to make sense (but just in case you want to, it’s called Sleigh Bells in the Snow).

I’m thrilled you decided to pick up this story. I hope you enjoy it and, if you feel like letting me know your thoughts, then the best way to get in touch is to send me an e-mail via my website or find me on Twitter, @SarahMorgan_ (don’t forget the underscore) or www.Facebook.com/AuthorSarahMorgan.

Have a happy summer!

Love,

Sarah

To Flo.

Behind every happy author is a brilliant editor.

I’m so lucky to have you.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

PUBLISHING A BOOK is always a team effort and there are many people who deserve thanks. I’m always anxious I might miss someone so it sometimes takes me as long to write the acknowledgments as it would to write a whole chapter of a new story.

As always, my biggest thanks go to the readers who buy my books. I feel privileged that you choose to read my stories.

I’m grateful to my agent Susan Ginsburg, and to Susan Swinwood, Flo Nicoll and the team at Harlequin in the U.S. and U.K. who work so hard to make my book the best it can be and put it into the hands of readers across the globe.

I’m indebted to lovely Ele for helping with my French. Any mistakes are mine (blame it on the Pinot Noir consumed for research purposes).

Thanks to the fabulous Sharon Kendrick, who read the first sentence of this book over my shoulder on a flight and told me it was crap (thanks, Sharon, you’ll be relieved to hear I rewrote it). She then read out the first sentence of hers in a loud voice and we were subsequently banned from flying with that airline ever again. Just kidding. Or maybe not. I won’t know until I try and book my next flight.

As always, thanks to my family for their endless patience. Living with a writer isn’t easy and no amount of pizza and chocolate can compensate for those times when a book is going badly and I’m pulling my hair out. You make me happy and I’m lucky to have you.

Table of Contents

Cover

Praise for Sarah Morgan

About the Author

Title Page

Copyright

Dear Reader

Dedication

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Table of Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

Extract

Endpage

About the Publisher

CHAPTER ONE

“PHONE CALL FOR YOU, Dr. O’Neil. She says it’s an emergency.”

Sean rolled his shoulders to ease the tension, his mind still in the operating room.

His patient was a promising soccer player. He’d torn the anterior cruciate ligament in his left knee, a common enough injury that had ended plenty of sports careers. Sean was determined it wasn’t going to end this one. The procedure had gone well, although surgery was only the beginning. What followed would be a lengthy rehabilitation that would require dedication and determination from all involved.

Still thinking about how to manage expectations, he took the phone from the nurse. “Sean O’Neil.”

“Sean? Where the hell were you last night?”

Braced for a different conversation, Sean frowned with irritation. “Veronica? You shouldn’t be calling me here. I was told this was an emergency.”

“It is an emergency!” Her voice rose along with her temper. “Next time you invite me to dinner, have the decency to show up.”

Damn.

A nurse came out of the operating room and handed him a form.

“Veronica, I’m sorry.” He tucked the phone between his cheek and his shoulder and gestured for a pen. “I was called back to the hospital. A colleague had problems with a patient. I was operating.”

“And you couldn’t have called me? I waited in that restaurant for an hour. An hour, Sean! A man tried to pick me up.”

Sean signed the form. “Was he nice?”

“Do not joke about it. It was the most embarrassing hour of my life. Don’t ever, ever do that to me again.”

He handed the form back to the nurse with a brief smile. “You’d rather I left a patient to bleed to death?”

“I’d rather you honored your commitments.”

“I’m a surgeon. My first commitment is to my patients.”

“So what you’re saying is that if you had to choose between me and work, you’d pick work?”

“Yes.” The fact that she’d asked that question showed how little she knew him. “That is what I’m saying.”

“Damn you, Sean. I hate you.” But there was a wobble in her voice. “Tell me honestly, is it just me or is it all women?”

“It’s me. I’m bad at relationships, you know that. Right now my focus is my career.”

“One of these days you’re going to wake up alone in that fancy apartment of yours and regret all the time you spent working.”

He decided not to point out that he woke up alone through choice. He never invited women back to his apartment. He was barely ever there himself. “My work is important to me. You knew that when you met me.”

“No, important is being dedicated to what you do but still having a personal life. What work is to you, Sean O’Neil, is an obsession. You are single-minded and focused to the exclusion of everything else. That might make you a brilliant doctor but it makes you a lousy date. And here’s a news flash—being charming and good in bed doesn’t stop you being a selfish, workaholic bastard.”

“Sean?” Another nurse appeared at his elbow, her pink cheeks and awkward demeanor suggesting she’d overheard that last sentence. “The team coach is waiting outside for news along with the boy’s parents. Will you talk to them?”

“Are you even listening to me?” Veronica’s voice came down the phone, shrill and irritated. “Are you having another conversation while you’re talking to me?”

Hell.

Sean closed his eyes. “I’ve just come out of the operating room.” He rubbed his fingers over his forehead. “I need to speak to the relatives.”

“They can wait five minutes!”

“They’re worried. If that was your kid in recovery, you’d want to know what was going on. I have to go. Goodbye, Veronica. I really am sorry about last night.”

“No, wait! Don’t go!” Her voice was urgent. “I love you, Sean. I really love you. Despite everything, I think we have something special. We can make this work. You just need to flex a little bit more.”

Sweat pricked at the back of his neck. He saw the nurse’s eyes widen.

How had he got himself in this situation?

For the first time in years he’d made a misjudgment. He’d thought Veronica was the sort of woman who was happy to live in the moment. Turned out he was wrong about that.

“I have to go, Veronica.”

“All right, I’ll flex. I’m sorry, I’m being a shrew. Let me cook you dinner tonight, I promise I won’t complain if you’re late. You can show up whenever. I’ll—”

“Veronica—” he cut across her “—do not apologize to me when I’m the one who should be apologizing to you. You need to find a guy who will give you the attention you deserve.”

There was a tense silence. “Are you saying it’s over?”

As far as Sean was concerned it had never started. “Yeah, that’s what I’m saying. There are hundreds of guys out there only too willing to flex. Go and find one of them.” He hung up, aware that the nurse was still watching him.

He was so tired he couldn’t even remember her name.

Ann? No, that wasn’t right.

Angela. Yes, it was Angela.

Fatigue descended like a gray fog, slowing his thinking. He needed sleep.

He’d been called to an emergency in the night and had been on his feet operating since dawn. Soon the adrenaline would fade and when it did he knew he was going to crash big-time. Sean wanted to be somewhere near his bed when that happened. He had the use of a room at the hospital but he preferred to make it back to his waterside apartment where he could nurse a beer and watch life on the water.

“Dr. O’Neil? Sean? I’m so sorry. I wouldn’t have put the call through if I’d known it was personal. She said she was a doctor.” The look in her eyes told him she’d have no objection to being Veronica’s replacement. Sean didn’t think she’d be flattered to know he’d temporarily forgotten her existence.

“Not your fault. I’ll talk to the relatives—” He was tempted to take a shower first, but then he remembered the white face of the boy’s mother when she’d arrived at the hospital and decided the shower could wait. “I’ll go and see them now.”

“You’ve had a really long day. If you want to come by my place after work, I make a mac and cheese that is wicked good.”

She was sweet, caring and pretty. Angela would come close to most men’s idea of a perfect woman.

Not his.

His idea of a perfect woman was one who didn’t want anything from him.

Relationships meant sacrifice and compromise. He wasn’t prepared to do either of those things, which was why he had remained resolutely single.

“As you just witnessed, I am an appalling date.” He managed what he hoped was a disarming smile. “I’d either be working and not show up at all, or so tired I’d fall asleep on your sofa. You can definitely do better.”

“I think you’re amazing, Dr. O’Neil. I work with loads of doctors, and you’re easily the best. If I ever needed a surgeon, I’d want you to look after me. And I wouldn’t care if you fell asleep on my sofa.”

“Yes, you would.” Eventually they always did. “I’ll go and talk to the family now.”

“That’s kind of you. His mother is worried.”

HE SAW THE worry the moment he laid eyes on the woman.

She sat without moving, her hands gripping her skirt as she tried to contain anxiety made worse by waiting. Her husband was on his feet, hands thrust in his pockets, shoulders hunched as he talked to the coach. Sean knew the coach vaguely. He’d found him to be ruthless and relentlessly pushy and it seemed that surgery on his star player hadn’t softened his approach.

The guy wanted miracles and he wanted them yesterday. Sean knew this particular coach’s priority wasn’t the long-term welfare of the kid lying in the OR, but the future of his team. As a sports injury specialist he dealt with players and coaches all the time. Some were great. Others made him wish he’d chosen law instead of medicine.

The moment the boy’s father saw Sean he sprang forward like a Rottweiler pouncing on an intruder.

“Well?”

The coach was drinking water from a plastic cup. “You fixed it?”

He made it sound like a hole in a roof, Sean thought. Slap a new shingle on and it will be as good as new. Change the tire and get the car back on the road.

“Surgery is only the beginning. It’s going to be a long process.”

“Maybe you should have got him into surgery sooner instead of waiting.”

Maybe you should stop practicing armchair medicine.

Noticing the boy’s mother digging her nails into her legs, Sean decided not to lock horns. “All the research shows that the outcome is better when surgery is carried out on a pain-free mobile joint.” He’d told them the same thing a week before but neither the coach nor the father had wanted to listen then and they didn’t want to listen now.

“How soon can he play again?”

Sean wondered what it must be like for the boy, growing up with these two on his back.

“It’s too early to set a timetable for return. If you push too hard, he won’t be playing at all. The focus now is on rehab. He has to take that seriously. So do you.” This time his tone was as blunt as his words. He’d seen promising careers ruined by coaches who pushed too hard too soon, and by players without the patience to understand that the body didn’t heal according to a sporting schedule.

“It’s a competitive world, Dr. O’Neil. Staying at the top takes determination.”

Sean wondered if the coach was talking about his player or himself. “It also takes a healthy body.”

The boy’s mother, silent until now, stood up. “Is he all right?” The question earned her a scowl from her husband.

“Hell, woman, I just asked him that! Try listening.”

“You didn’t ask.” Her voice shook. “You asked if he’d play again. That’s all you care about. He’s a person, Jim, not a machine. He’s our son.”

“At his age I was—”

“I know what you were doing at his age and I tell you if you carry on like this you will destroy your relationship with him. He will hate you forever.”

“He should be thanking me for pushing him. He has talent. Ambition. It needs to be nurtured.”

“It’s your ambition, Jim. This was your ambition and now you’re trying to live all your dreams through your son. And what you’re doing isn’t nurturing. You put pressure on him and then layer more and more on until the boy is crushed under the weight of it.” The words burst out of her and she paused for a moment as if she’d shocked herself. “I apologize, Dr. O’Neil.”

“No need to apologize. I understand your concern.”

Tension snapped his muscles tight. No one understood the pressures of family expectation better than he did. He’d been raised with it.

Do you know how it feels to be crushed by the weight of someone else’s dreams? Do you know how that feels, Sean?

The voice in his head was so real he rocked on his feet and had to stop himself glancing over his shoulder to check his father wasn’t standing there. He’d been dead two years, but sometimes it felt like yesterday.

He thrust the sudden wash of grief aside, uncomfortable with the sudden intrusion of the personal into his professional life.

He was more in need of sleep than he’d thought.

“Scott’s doing fine, Mrs. Turner. Everything went smoothly. You’ll be able to see him soon.”

The tension left the woman’s body. “Thank you, Doctor. I— You’ve been so good to him right from the start. And to me. When he starts playing—” she shot her husband a look “—how do we know the same thing won’t happen again? He wasn’t even near another player. He just crumpled.”

“Eighty percent of ACL tears are non-contact.” Sean ignored both the woman’s husband and the coach and focused on her. He felt sorry for her, the referee in a game of ambition. “The anterior cruciate ligament connects your thigh to your shin. It doesn’t do a whole lot if you’re just going about your normal day, but it’s an essential part of controlling the rotation forces developed during twisting actions.”

She gave him a blank look. “Twisting actions?”

“Jumping, pivoting and abrupt changes of direction. It’s an injury common among soccer players, basketball players and skiers.”

“Your brother Tyler had the same, didn’t he?” The coach butted in. “And it was all over for him. It killed his career as a ski racer. Hell of a blow for such a gifted athlete.”

His brother’s injury had been far more complicated than that, but Sean never talked about his famous brother. “Our aim with surgery is to return the knee joint to near-normal stability and function but it’s a team effort and rehabilitation is a big part of that effort. Scott is young, fit and motivated. I’m confident he’ll make a full recovery and be as strong as he was before the injury, providing you encourage him to attack rehab with the same degree of dedication he shows to the game.” He hardened his tone because he needed them to pay attention. “Push too hard or too soon and that won’t be the case.”

The coach nodded. “So can we start rehabilitation right away?”

Sure, just throw him a ball while he’s still unconscious.

“We generally find it helps for a patient to have come around from the anesthetic.”

The man’s cheeks turned dusky-red. “You think I’m pushy, but this kid just wants to play and it’s my job to make sure he gets whatever he needs. Which is why we’re here,” he said gruffly. “People say you’re the best. Everyone I talked to gave me the same response. If it’s a knee injury, you want Sean O’Neil. ACL reconstruction and sports injuries are your specialty. Didn’t realize you were Tyler O’Neil’s brother until a few weeks ago. How’s he coping now he can’t compete? That must be hard.”

“He’s doing just fine.” The response was automatic. At the height of Tyler’s skiing success the whole family had been bombarded by the media and they’d learned to deflect the intrusive questions, some about Tyler’s breathtaking talent, others about his colorful personal life.

“I read somewhere he can only ski for recreation now.” The coach pulled a face. “Must be hard for a guy like Tyler. I met him once.”

Making a note to commiserate with his brother, Sean steered the conversation back on topic. “Let’s focus on Scott.” He went through it again, repeating words he’d already spoken.

Drumming the message home took another twenty minutes. By the time he’d showered, checked on a few of his patients and climbed into his car, two hours had passed.

Sean sat for a moment, summoning the energy to drive the distance to his waterfront home.

The weekend lay ahead, a stretch of time filled with infinite possibilities.

For the next forty-eight hours his time was his own and he was ready to savor every moment. But first he was going to sleep.

The phone he kept for his personal use rang and he cursed for a moment, assuming it was Veronica, and then frowned when the screen told him it was his twin brother, Jackson. Along with the name came the guilt. It festered inside him, buried deep but always there.

He wondered why his brother would be calling him late on a Friday.

A crisis at home?

Snow Crystal Resort had been in their family for four generations. It hadn’t occurred to any of them that it might not be in the family for another four. The sudden death of his father had revealed the truth. The business had been in trouble for years. The discovery that their home was under threat had sent a ripple of shock through the whole family.

It was Jackson who had left a thriving business in Europe to return home to Vermont and save Snow Crystal from a disaster none of the three brothers had even known existed.

Sean stared at the phone in his hand.

Guilt crawled over his skin because he knew it wasn’t the pressures of his job that kept him away.

Breathing deeply, he settled back in his seat, ready to catch up on news from home and promising himself that next time he was going to be the one who made the call. He was going to do better at staying in touch.

“Hey—” he answered the call with a smile “—you fell over, smashed your knee and now you need a decent surgeon?”

There was no answering banter and no small talk. “You need to get yourself back here. It’s Gramps.”

Running Snow Crystal Resort was a never-ending tug of war between Jackson and their grandfather. “What’s he done this time? He wants you to knock down the lodges? Close the spa?”

“He collapsed. He’s in the hospital and you need to come.”

It took a moment for the words to sink in and when they did it was as if someone had sucked all the oxygen from the air.

Like all of them, he considered Walter O’Neil invincible. He was as strong as the mountains that had been home for all his life.

And he was eighty years of age.

“Collapsed?” Sean tightened his grip on the phone, remembering the number of times he’d said that the only way his grandfather would leave his beloved Snow Crystal would be if he was carried out in an ambulance. “What does that mean? Cardiac or neurological? Stroke or heart attack? Tell me in medical terms.”

“I don’t know the medical terms! It’s his heart, they think. He had that pain last winter, remember? They’re doing tests. He’s alive, that’s what counts. They didn’t say much and I was focusing on Mom and Grams. You’re the doctor, which is why I’m telling you to get your butt back here now so you can translate doctor-speak. I can handle the business but this is your domain. You need to come home, Sean.”

Home?

Home was his apartment in Boston with his state-of-the-art sound system, not a lake set against a backdrop of mountains and surrounded by a forest that had their family history carved into the trees.

Sean leaned his head back and stared up at the perfect blue sky that formed a contrast to the dark emotions swirling inside him.

He imagined his grandfather, pale and helpless, trapped in the sterile environment of a hospital, away from his precious Snow Crystal.

“Sean?” Jackson’s voice came through the speaker. “Are you still there?”

“Yeah, I’m here.” His other hand gripped the wheel of his car, knuckles white because there were things his brother didn’t know. Things they hadn’t talked about.

“Mom and Grams need you. You’re the doctor in the family. I can handle the business but I can’t handle this.”

“Was someone with him when it happened? Grams?”

“Not Grams. He was with Élise. She acted very quickly. If she hadn’t, we’d be having a different conversation.”

Élise, the head chef at Snow Crystal.

Sean stared straight ahead, thinking about that single night the summer before. For a brief moment he was back there, breathing in her scent, remembering the wildness of it.

That was something else his brother knew nothing about.

He swore under his breath and then realized Jackson was still talking.

“How soon can you get here?”

Sean thought about his grandfather, lying pale and still in a hospital bed while their mother, the family glue, struggled to hold everything together and Jackson did more than could be expected of one man.

He was sure his grandfather wouldn’t want him there, but the rest of his family needed him.

And as for Élise—it had been a single night, that was all. They weren’t in a relationship and never would be so there was no reason to mention it to his brother.

He made some rapid mental calculations.

The journey would take him three and a half hours, and that was without counting the time it would take to drive home and pack a bag.

“I’ll be with you as soon as I can. I’ll call his doctors now and find out what’s going on.”

“Come straight to the hospital. And drive carefully. One member of the family in the hospital is enough.” There was a brief pause. “It will be good to have you back at Snow Crystal, Sean.”

The reply wedged itself in his throat.

He’d grown up by the lake, surrounded by lush forests and mountains. He couldn’t identify the exact time he’d known it wasn’t where he wanted to be. When the place had started to irritate and chafe everything from his skin to his ambitions. It wasn’t something he’d been able to voice because to admit that there might be a place more perfect than Snow Crystal would have been heresy in the O’Neil family. Except to his father. Michael O’Neil had shared his conflicted emotions about the place. His father was the one person who would have understood.

Guilt dug deep, twisting in his ribs like a knife, because apart from the row with his grandfather and his wild fling with Élise, there was something else he’d never told his brother.

He’d never told him how much he hated coming home.

“I ’AVE KILLED WALTER! This is all my fault! I was so desperate to have the old boathouse finished in time for the party, I let an eighty-year-old man work on the deck.” Élise paced across the deck of her pretty lakeside lodge, out of her mind with worry. “Merde, I am a bad person. Jackson should fire me.”

“Snow Crystal is in enough trouble without Jackson firing his head chef. The restaurant is the one part of this business that is profitable. Oh, good news—” Kayla leaned on the railing next to the water, scanning a text “—according to the doctors, Walter is stable.”

“Comment? What does this mean, ‘stable’? You put a horse in a stable.”

“It means you haven’t killed him,” Kayla said as she texted back swiftly. “You need to calm down or we’ll be calling an ambulance for you next. Are all French people as dramatic as you?”

“I don’t know. I cannot help it.” Élise dragged her hand through her hair. “I am not good at ‘iding my feelings. For a while I manage it, but then everything bursts out and I explode.”

“I know. I’ve cleared up the mess after a few of your explosions. Fortunately your staff adore you. Go and make pizza dough or whatever it is you do when you want to reduce your stress levels. You’re dropping your h’s and that is never a good sign.” Kayla sent the text and read another one. “Jackson wants me to drive over to the hospital.”

“I will come with you!”

“Only if you promise not to explode in my car.”

“I want to see with my own eyes that Walter is alive.”

“You think we’re all lying to you?”

Her legs were shaking so Élise plopped onto the chair she’d placed by the water. “He is very important to me. I love him like a grandfather. Not like my real grandfather because he was a horrible person who refused to speak to my mother after she had me so I never actually met him, but how I think a grandfather should be in my dreams. I know you understand because your family, they were also rubbish.”

Kayla gave a faint smile, but didn’t argue. “I know how close you are to Walter. You don’t have to explain to me.”

“He is the nearest thing I have to family. And Jackson, of course. It makes me very happy to think he will marry you soon. And Elizabeth and dear Alice. And Tyler is like a brother to me, even though sometimes I want to punch him. It is normal for siblings to sometimes want to punch each other, I think. I love you all with every bone in my body.” The dark side of Élise’s life was carefully locked away in the past. Loneliness, fear and deep humiliation were a distant memory. She was safe here. Safe and loved.

“And Sean?” Kayla lifted an eyebrow. “Where does he fit into your adopted family? Presumably not as another brother.”

“No.” Just thinking about him made her heart race a little faster. “Not a brother.”

“So you won’t be telling him you love him? Aren’t you worried he might feel a little left out?”

Élise frowned. “You are not funny.”

“Is this a good time to warn you he’s coming home?”

“Of course he is coming home. He is an O’Neil. The O’Neils always stick together when there is trouble and Sean hasn’t been home for a while.”

And she was worried that was her fault.

Was it because of what had happened between them?

“So it isn’t going to feel awkward when he shows up?”

“Why would it feel awkward? Because of last summer? It was just one night. It’s not so hard to understand, is it? Sean is un beau mec.”

“He’s a what?”

“Un beau mec. A hot guy. Sean is very sexy. We are two adults who chose to spend a night together. We are both single. Why would it feel awkward?” It had been her idea of the perfect night. No ties. No complications. A decision she’d made with her head, not her heart. Never again would she allow her heart to be engaged.

No risks. No mistakes.

“So seeing him isn’t going to bother you?”

“Not at all. And it isn’t the first time. I saw him at Christmas.”

“And neither of you exchanged a single look or word.”

“Christmas is the busiest time of year for me. Do you know how many people I fed in the restaurant? I had more important things to worry about than Sean. And it is the same now. We probably won’t even have time to say hello. All he thinks about is work and I am the same. It is only a week until the Boathouse Café opens and at the moment it doesn’t have a deck.”

“Look, I know how much this project means to you—to all of us—but it is no one’s fault that Zach crashed his dirt bike.”

Élise scowled. “He is their cousin. Family. He should have shown more responsibility.”

“Distant cousin.”

“So what? He should have finished my deck before he crashed!”

“I’m sure that’s what he told the boulder that jumped into his path.” Kayla gave a fatalistic shrug. “He has O’Neil DNA. Of course he is going to indulge in dangerous sports and have accidents. Tyler says he’s lethal on a snowboard.”

“He should not have been indulging in anything lethal until my deck was finished!”

“So does that mean Zach has been struck off the list of people you love?”

“You make fun of me but it is important to tell people you love them.” It wasn’t just important to her, it was vital. Sadness seeped into her veins and she breathed deeply, trying to block the spread. Over the years she’d learned to control it. To keep it locked away so it didn’t interfere with her life. “I should never have let Walter step in. It is because of me he is lying there all full of tubes and needles and—”

“Stop!” Kayla pulled a face. “Enough.”

“It’s just that I keep imagining—”

“Well, don’t! Talk about something else?”

“We can talk about how I have ruined everything. The Boathouse Café is important for Snow Crystal. We have included the projected revenue in our forecasts. We have a party planned! And now it cannot happen.”

Frustrated with herself, Élise stood up and gazed across the lake, searching for calm. The evening sun sent flashes of gold and silver over the still surface of the lake. It was rare that she saw the place at this time of day. Usually she was in the restaurant preparing for the evening. The only time she sat on her own deck was in the dark when she returned in the early hours, or immediately on rising when she made herself a cup of freshly brewed coffee and sipped it in the dawn silence.

Morning was her favorite time of day in the summer, when the forest was still bathed by early morning mist and the sleepy sun had yet to burn off the fine cobweb of white shrouding the trees. It made her think of the curtain in the theatre, hiding the thrill of the main event from an excited audience.

Heron Lodge was small, just one bedroom and an open plan living area, but the size didn’t worry her. She’d grown up in Paris, in a tiny apartment on the Left Bank with a view over the rooftops and barely room to pirouette. At Snow Crystal she lived right on the lakeshore, her lodge sheltered by trees. At night in the summer she slept with the windows open. Even when it was too dark to see the view, there was beauty in the sounds. Water slapping gently against her deck, the whisper of a bird’s wing as it flew overhead, the low hoot of an owl. On nights when she was unable to sleep she lay for hours breathing in the sweet scents of summer and listening to the call of the hermit thrush and the chattering of the black-capped chickadees.

If she’d slept with her window open in Paris she would have been constantly disturbed by a discordant symphony of car horns punctuated by Gallic swearing as drivers stopped in the street to yell abuse at each other. Paris was loud and busy. A city with the volume fixed on maximum while everyone rushed around trying to be somewhere yesterday.

Snow Crystal was muted and peaceful. Never, in the turmoil of her past, had she imagined one day living in a place like this.

She knew how close the O’Neil family had come to losing it. She knew things were still far from secure and that losing it was still a very real possibility. She was determined to do everything she could to make sure that didn’t happen.

“Can you find me another carpenter? Are you sure you’ve tried everyone?”

“There is no one. Sorry.” Looking tired, Kayla shook her head. “I already made some calls.”

“In that case we are all doomed.”

“No one is doomed, Élise!”

“We will have to delay the opening and cancel the party. You have invited so many important people. People who could spread the word and help grow the business. Je suis désolée. The Boathouse is my responsibility. Jackson asked me for an opening date and I gave him one. I anticipated a busy summer. Now if Snow Crystal has to close we will all lose our jobs and our home and it will be my fault.”

“Don’t worry, with your talent for drama you could easily get a job on Broadway.” Kayla paced the deck, obviously thinking. “We could hold the party in the restaurant?”

“No. It was supposed to be a magical, outdoor evening that will showcase the charm of our new café. I have it all arranged—food, lights, dancing on the deck—the deck that isn’t finished!” Frustrated and miserable, Élise walked into her little kitchen and picked up the bag of food she’d packed for the family. “Let’s go. They’ve been at the hospital for hours. They will be hungry.”

As they walked along the lake path to the car, Élise thought again what a good thing it was that Jackson had employed Kayla. She’d arrived at Snow Crystal only six months earlier, the week before Christmas, to put together a public relations campaign that would boost the resort’s flagging fortunes. The intention had been that she would stay a week and then return to her high-powered job in New York, but that had been before she’d fallen in love with Jackson O’Neil.

Élise felt a rush of emotion.

Calm, strong Jackson. He was the reason she was here, living this wonderful life. He’d saved her. Rescued her from the ruins of her own life. He’d given her a way out from a problem of her own making, and she’d taken it. He was the only one who knew the truth about her. She owed him everything.

The Boathouse Café was a way of repaying him.

Élise had always known that Snow Crystal needed something more than the formal restaurant and the small, cramped coffee shop that had been part of the resort since it was built.

On her first stroll down to the lakeshore she’d seen the derelict boathouse and envisaged a café right on the water’s edge. Now her dream was almost reality. She’d worked with a local architect and together they’d created something that matched her vision and satisfied the planners.

The new café had glass on three sides so that no part of the view was lost to those dining indoors. During the winter the doors would be kept closed, but in the summer months when the weather allowed, the glass walls could be pulled back to allow guests to take maximum advantage of the breathtaking position.

In the summer most of the tables would be set on the wide deck, a sun-trap that stretched across the water. The building should have been finished in June, but bad weather had delayed essential work and then Zach had crashed the bike.

Kayla slid behind the wheel and drove carefully out of the resort. “How long do you think Sean will stay?”

“Not long.”

And that suited her perfectly.

They probably wouldn’t even have any time alone together and she wasn’t going to worry about something that didn’t represent a threat.

Sean was entertaining company, charming and yes, insanely sexy, but her emotions weren’t engaged. And they never would be. Never again.

Memories slid into her, dark and oppressive and she gave a little shiver and stared hard at the forest, reminding herself that she was in Vermont, not Paris. This was her home now.

And it wasn’t as if she was living without love.

She had the O’Neils. They were her family.

That thought stayed in her head as they arrived at the hospital and it was still in her head as Kayla walked into Jackson’s arms.

She saw Kayla reach out her hand and curl her fingers into Jackson’s. Saw her friend rise up on the balls of her feet and brush her lips over his in a kiss that somehow managed to be both discreet and intimate. In that moment she’d ceased to exist for either of them. Their emotions were definitely engaged.

Witnessing it robbed her of breath.

She felt a pang and looked away quickly.

She didn’t want that.

“I will go and see Walter and drop off this food while you two catch up. Give me the keys, Kayla.” She held out her hand. “You can go home with Jackson later. I will try to persuade Alice to come back with me now.”

She didn’t succeed. Walter looked pale and fragile and when she eventually left the room it was with the image of Alice, his wife of sixty years, sitting by his side with her hand on his, her knitting abandoned in her lap as if by holding hands they might prevent their life together from unraveling.

All Alice had talked about was Sean. Her belief in her grandson’s ability to perform miracles was as touching as it was worrying.

Élise was on her way out of the hospital when she saw him.

He walked with confidence and authority, comfortable in the sterile atmosphere of the high-tech medical facility. The well-cut suit and pristine white shirt couldn’t conceal the width of his shoulders or the leashed power of his body, and her heart gave a little dance in her chest.

Despite the air-conditioning, her skin heated.

It had been just one night, but it wasn’t a night she was likely to forget and she doubted he would, either.

Like her, Sean had no interest in forming deep romantic relationships. His job demanded control and emotional detachment. The fact that he applied the same rules to his personal life had made everything simple.

She walked briskly across the foyer toward him, determined to prove to herself and anyone who happened to be watching that this meeting wasn’t awkward. “Sean—” she rose on tiptoe, placed her hand on his shoulder and kissed him on both cheeks. “Ça va? I’m so sorry about Walter. You must be out of your mind worried.”

It was fine. Not awkward at all. Maybe her English wasn’t as fluent as usual, but that sometimes happened when she was tired or stressed.

As her cheek brushed against the roughness of his jaw she was almost knocked flat by a rush of sexual chemistry. Rocked off-balance, she tightened her fingers on his shoulder, feeling the thickness of muscle through the fabric of his suit. If she moved slightly to the left she’d be kissing his mouth and it shocked her just how much she wanted to do that.

Sean’s head turned slightly. His gaze met hers and for a moment she was mesmerized.

His eyes were the same startling blue as his twin brother’s but she’d never felt anything this dangerously potent when dealing with Jackson. Some people might have waxed lyrical about blue skies or sapphires but for her those eyes were all about sex. For a moment she forgot the people around them, forgot everything except the sexual energy and memories of that one night. She hadn’t closed her eyes and neither had he. Through the whole breath-stealing madness of it, they’d held that connection and it was all she could think of as she lowered her heels to the floor and stepped back.

Her heart was racing. Her mouth was dry. It took all her willpower to let go of his shoulder. “How was your journey?”

“I’ve had worse.”

“Have you eaten? I brought food. Alice has the bag.”

“I don’t suppose that bag contains a good Pinot Noir?”

It was a typically Sean response.

Even in a crisis he projected calm. It washed over her, as welcoming as cool air in a heat wave and for the first time since that awful moment when Walter had collapsed at her feet she felt her mood lift slightly. It was as if someone had taken off some of the weight she’d been carrying.

“No Pinot Noir. But there is homemade lemonade.”

“Oh, well, a guy can’t have everything. If you made it, I’m sure it’s good.” He loosened his tie with long, strong fingers, cool and composed, and she wondered if he remembered it had been Pinot Noir they’d drunk that night. “Where is the rest of my family?”

“They’re with your grandfather.”

“How is he?” His voice was gruff, those thick dark lashes failing to conceal the concern in his eyes. “Any change?”

“He looks frail. I hope the doctors know what they’re doing.”

“It’s a good hospital. And how are you?” He caught her chin in his fingers and turned her face to him. “You look like hell.”

“Is that your medical opinion?”

“It’s the opinion of a friend. If you’re asking me as a doctor I’ll have to bill you—” his hand dropped and he tilted his head as he calculated “—let’s say, six hundred dollars. You’re welcome.”

Her heart rate slowly returned to normal. “You trained all those years to tell people they look like hell?”

“It’s a vocation.” He was smiling, too, and that smile made her heart kick hard against her ribs.

“And there I was congratulating myself on looking good in a crisis.” She’d forgotten how easy it was to relax with him. He was easy to talk to and charming. And dangerously attractive.

“I have to go. I need to see Grams.”

“She won’t leave his side and she’s exhausted. She thinks you’re going to be able to perform a miracle.”

“I’ll go to her right now.” His hard features softened fractionally as he spoke of his grandmother. “You’re driving back to Snow Crystal?”

“I just wanted to see him for a few minutes, keep Kayla company and bring food.”

“You still haven’t told me how you are.” Sean’s gaze didn’t shift from her face. “You’re very close to Gramps.”

How was she?

The person she loved most in the world was in the hospital and the Boathouse still wasn’t finished and wasn’t going to open on time.

There would be no opening party. She’d let Jackson down.

She’d had bad days before, but this had been the king of bad days.

But Sean didn’t need to hear that. Their relationship didn’t involve cozy confidences.

“I’m fine,” she lied. “It’s different for me. I am not family. Although I’d also like you to perform a miracle if you have time.”

“I think my grandfather would be the first to dispute that you’re not family.”

“Walter would dispute anything. You know how he loves to argue. He is my perfect man. I love him so much.”

“Now you’ve broken my heart.”

She knew he was joking. Sean was too busy with his career to be interested in a relationship, and that suited her just fine.

“I will see you soon.”

“Are you safe to drive home?” He caught her wrist and pulled her back to him and just for a moment, standing toe-to-toe with him, she forgot the people around her.

“Of course.” She was torn between being touched that he’d noticed how badly affected she was and appalled that she was so easy to read. Why couldn’t she be cool and enigmatic like Kayla? “It has been a long day, that’s all.”

He gave her a long, searching look and then let go of her wrist. “Drive carefully.”

As she walked to the car, she congratulated herself on how well she’d handled that encounter. No one watching would have guessed that they’d once generated enough heat to melt a frozen ice cap.

They had their feelings under control.

There was nothing about Sean O’Neil that threatened her life here.

When it came to love, she was invulnerable.

CHAPTER TWO

“THE PRODIGAL GRANDSON RETURNS.” A familiar voice came from behind him and Sean turned to find Tyler standing there holding two cups of coffee.

He took one without invitation. “Didn’t realize the whole family was here.”

“They are now that you walked through the door and that’s Jackson’s coffee you’re drinking. You look like a banker, not a doctor. What happened to the scrubs?”

“I wear those when I’m operating. The rest of the time I wear a suit.”

“Why? So you can charge more?” The banter did nothing to disguise the tension in Tyler’s shoulders and Sean felt a rush of concern.

“This may come as a surprise to you given your TV viewing preferences, but most people don’t like doctors covered in blood.” He took a sip of coffee, coughed and handed it straight back to his brother. “That is disgusting.”

“Straight from the machine, the way you hate it. That’s your punishment for stealing something that wasn’t yours in the first place. Believe me, when you’ve been in this place all day it tastes like nectar.”

“How’s the leg?”

“Behaving. I never thought I’d say this, but it’s good to see you.” Tyler gave a laugh. “Listen to me, getting all mushy on you.”

“Yeah, suddenly I’m worried.”

“Don’t be. The only reason I’m pleased to see you is because now you can do the boring incomprehensible bit of talking to the doctors and I can focus my attention on more important things.”

“Would those more important things be female?”

“They might be. Was that Élise I saw leaving? Did you know she was with Gramps when he collapsed?”

“Jackson told me. She didn’t mention it.” Which, now that he thought about it, was a little strange.

What had they talked about?

All he could remember was the brush of her cheek against his, the silk of her hair and the scent that had slid into his veins like a drug. And the chemistry. Always the chemistry, simmering in the background like a summer heat wave.

The doors to the nearest elevator opened and Sean saw Jackson standing there with Kayla.

“Élise texted me to tell me you were here. We weren’t expecting you for another hour at least.”

“I may have broken a few speed limits.” Sean wondered how long it had been since his twin had slept. “Any change?”

“Not that I can tell, but I’m not the doctor. It’s hard to get information from anyone. For all I know they might be useless at their jobs. You need to speak to them.”

“I called from the car. This place has one of the highest heart attack survival rates in the country. They took him straight to the cath lab for balloon inflation and stenting. They had him out of the E.R. in seventeen minutes. That’s impressive.” It came as a relief to discover that even though he was affected personally, the doctor in him was still able to detach and analyze.

Jackson glanced at Tyler, who shrugged.

“Don’t look at me. I never understand a word he says. It’s all those books he reads. Don’t suppose his patients understand him, either, but they’re probably reassured by the expensive suit and the astronomical fees he charges.”

It was a relief to relax with his brothers for five minutes. “You could wear a suit occasionally, Ty. If you tidied yourself up you might even get laid.”

“The reason I’m not getting laid is because my teenage daughter is living with me. I’m a shining example of parenthood.”

Sean grinned. “It must be killing you.”

Jackson intervened before the conversation could degenerate. “Can we focus on Gramps for a moment? Explain again, and this time use plain language.”

“The artery was blocked, so they unblocked it by inflating a balloon against the artery wall and inserting a stent, like mesh, to hold it open—” Sean used his hands to demonstrate. “All the studies show that if they can do that within ninety minutes of the original attack, there is a better chance of survival and fewer complications. Time from the onset of symptoms to reperfusion is an important predictor of outcome.”

Jackson pressed a button on the elevator and the doors closed. “I asked for plain language.”

“That was plain language.”

Tyler rolled his eyes. “If he ever gives us the complicated version I’m going to need a large drink.”

Jackson was frowning. “So is that good news?”

Relatively speaking.

Sean decided they didn’t need to know all the potential outcomes. “How did it start? Was Gramps sick? Did he have chest pain?”

“According to Élise, one minute he was standing up, the next minute he was on the ground.” Jackson watched as the buttons illuminated one by one, stopping at what felt like every floor to let people in and out. “He was working on the deck of the old boathouse.”

“Why?”

“We’re converting it into a café.” It was Jackson’s turn to sound irritable. “Don’t you read your emails?”

“I get a ton of emails. So why was Gramps doing the work?”

“Because there wasn’t anyone else. We’re stretched to the limit. Gramps wanted to help and I don’t have the luxury of being able to stop him, even supposing I could. Everyone has been doing what they can to keep the place afloat.”

Everyone except him.

Sean stared straight ahead, feeling the guilt cover him like sweat. He was the only one not doing anything to stop the family business from sinking.

He turned his head to speak to Jackson and wished he hadn’t because his brother was kissing Kayla. A slow, lingering kiss that had as much eye contact as lip contact.

Immediately he thought of Élise. Of that single, hot night the summer before.

The night neither of them had ever mentioned.

He looked away. “Could you put each other down just for two minutes so we can focus here?”

“You’re witnessing true love,” Tyler drawled, “and it’s a beautiful thing.”

“Sorry, but it’s been a tough day and we don’t see that much of each other.” Kayla rested her head on Jackson’s shoulder. “But that’s going to change soon. One more week!”

Sean frowned. “You’ve given up your job in New York?”

“Yes. I’m going to be working and living here full-time. You knew I was doing that.” Kayla twisted the engagement ring on her finger. “I told you at Christmas.”

At Christmas he’d been focused on surviving three days of living in close quarters with his family without revealing the rift with his grandfather. He’d given virtually no thought to the way anyone else was feeling.

“Right. I guess I lost track of time.”

So Kayla was giving up her life to come and live here at Snow Crystal. Another person sacrificing everything for love. What the hell was he supposed to say to that?

Congratulations?

Have you thought this through?

What happens when you wake up and start resenting everything you gave up to live here?

“I hope you’ll both be very happy.”

“We are and we will be.” Jackson looped his arm around Kayla’s shoulders. “Ignore him. He’s just jealous. He can’t keep a woman long enough to learn her name, that’s his problem.”

“I’m not the one with the problem.”

Commitment meant putting your own needs second and he was too selfish to make that sacrifice for anyone. He wanted to be able to work when he needed to without feeling the constant tug of duty and responsibility. He wanted to travel without always feeling there was another place he should be. He wanted freedom. He didn’t want to feel trapped and stifled in the same way his father had.

10,11,12—the elevator had to be the slowest ever. He felt like getting out and pushing.

“Tyler, you should go home.” Jackson still had his arm around Kayla. “Gramps won’t thank us if he comes home and finds the place neglected.”

“He never thanks us, anyway,” Tyler muttered and Sean slid his finger around his already loosened collar.

“I’m not expecting a warm welcome.”

“You could come home more often,” Jackson replied mildly. “That would help.”

Tyler eyed his suit. “He doesn’t have the right clothing. You can’t walk around Snow Crystal in silk shirts and Armani.”

“It’s Brioni. I bought it when I was presenting at a medical conference in Milan.” He didn’t add that moving to Snow Crystal permanently would be one sacrifice he wouldn’t be making anytime soon. “A good suit is an investment. I seem to remember you owning a decent suit once. Several, in fact. Of course, that was in the days before you let yourself go.”

The exchange with his brothers was comfortable and familiar and kept him sane until the elevator finally stopped. He strode out before the doors were fully open, relieved to be out of the confined space, trapped with emotions he didn’t want to confront.

Tyler was right on his heels. “I can’t stand hospitals. All those white coats and beeping machines and people using incomprehensible words.” His face was noticeably paler than usual. “It’s like being on an alien spaceship.”

Sean wondered if being here reminded his brother of his accident.

For him, hospitals were exciting places, centers for research, full of possibilities.

He felt completely at home and his brothers seemed to know that because Jackson slapped him on the shoulder.

“You know your way around this spaceship. Ready to kick some butt?”

“Do aliens have butts?”

Kayla rolled her eyes. “You sound like a bad movie.”

“What sort of movie?” Jackson’s eyes were on her mouth. “You mean like a porn movie? Because if you want to do bad things to me, that’s fine.”

Sean caught Tyler’s eye. His brother shrugged.

“Like I said—true love. It will happen to you one day when you least expect it. And the next thing you know you’ll be walking around with your lips glued to some chick making embarrassing noises like our beloved brother here.”

And not long after that the sacrifices would start. I became us and along with us came a giant dollop of compromise and suddenly your life didn’t look anything like the way you’d once wanted it to look. You stared into the mirror and asked yourself how the hell did I end up here?

There was no way, no way, that was ever going to happen to him.

“There’s an ice machine at the end of the corridor.” Sean glanced at the signs and found the direction he wanted. “You two should go sit in it while I talk to Gramps.”

ÉLISE SPENT THE evening cooking. Combining flavors and textures was a way of occupying her mind and soothing her anxiety. She told herself it was work, that she needed new recipes for the café, but in truth it was distraction. Distraction from thoughts of Walter and that horrible moment when he’d collapsed at her feet.

It had been hours and she’d heard nothing. She’d texted Kayla twice and received no response. The next step would be to call the hospital and she was close to doing that.

It was almost midnight. Why hadn’t Kayla called?

Dark fell over the lake.

An owl hooted.

Unable to contemplate sleep, she cooked and wrote notes on the laptop she kept permanently on the countertop in the kitchen. Some of the recipes would make it into her repertoire and would be used in the restaurant or the café. Others would never be used again.

She pulled a tray of savory mushroom pastries out of the oven and set them aside to cool, pleased with the result. Picking up a fork, she cut into one. The pastry was a pale golden-brown, crisp and buttery. It flaked in the mouth and melted on the tongue, blending perfectly with the creamy filling.

“Something smells good.” Sean’s voice came from behind her and she turned sharply, her pulse rate doubling.

He stood in the doorway, his broad shoulders blocking her view of the lake.

It was the first time he’d been to her lodge since she’d been living in it. The fact that he’d come in person could only mean bad news.

“Something has happened to Walter? Is he—?” The fear was brutal. Her head spun and her vision felt distant and strange.

She didn’t see him move, but the next moment strong hands clamped her shoulders and she was being guided into the chair.

“Put your head down.” His voice was calm and sure. “You’re fine, sweetheart, you’ve just had a long day. Gramps is good. He’s doing well.”

She leaned forward, waiting for the world to stop spinning. “Is that the truth? You’re not lying to me?”

“I never lie. Some women would say it’s my biggest failing.” He crouched down next to her and closed a hand over hers. “Better?”

“Yes.”

She didn’t say that his honesty was one of the things she liked best about him.

Lifting her head, she met his gaze. Her stomach tightened.

It didn’t matter how much they tried to ignore it, the connection was always there.

Merde. And now she was leaning on him like a pathetic creature. And she didn’t do that. She never did that.

“You scared me. I thought—” She couldn’t even say what she’d thought. It was a relief to feel her heart thudding against her chest. For a moment she’d thought it had stopped. “Kayla didn’t answer my texts. I was worried.”

“Probably too busy kissing my brother to check her phone.” He gave her hand another squeeze and stood up. “Do those two ever stop?”

She flexed her fingers, thinking that she should have been the one to pull her hand away.

“They’re apart for a lot of the week so I suppose they want to make the most of the time they’re together. Tell me about your grandfather. How was he when you left?”

“Awake and talking. Scolding Grams for having stayed with him the whole time when she should have gone home to bed.”

“Scolding? That sounds so much like him.” The relief was so great it was almost physical. “I will kill Kayla for not texting me.” She knew she should stand up but she didn’t trust her legs so she stayed sitting on the pretty blue wooden chair she’d bought for her kitchen. “I’m shaking! I am a mess.”

“From what I’ve heard you’ve had a hell of a day, so shaking is allowed. Here. Have a drink.” Pulling a bottle of cognac from her shelf, he sloshed a generous measure into a glass and sniffed it with appreciation. “This is good stuff. If I’d known you were hiding this I would have been around sooner.”

He handed her the glass and she took it, horrified to feel a hot ball of tears wedged in her throat.

“Sorry—”

“Are you apologizing for not sharing your cognac or for caring about my grandfather?”

“I’m apologizing for overreacting.” And she was furious with herself for allowing her thoughts to wander into worst-case land. She sipped and felt the liquid burn her throat.

Sean watched her. “I’m the one who should be apologizing for showing up at your door without warning. It didn’t occur to me that you might think I was the bearer of bad news. Women are usually pleased to see me.” He obviously intended it as a joke, but she knew it was probably the truth.

“You have never come to my lodge before and I’ve been worrying and when I couldn’t reach Kayla I thought maybe—” her heart was still pounding “—I saw you there and I was so afraid—”

“If you were that afraid why didn’t you call me?”

“I wouldn’t do that.”

“For God’s sake Élise, we’re not strangers. You ripped my clothes off. We had sex. If we can roll naked together, you can pick up the damn phone.”

She felt the betraying color streak across her cheeks. “You ripped my clothes off, too, in case your memory is faulty.”

But she’d started it.

She’d made the first move on that hot summer night with the scent of the forest around them and her blood on fire for him.

“Yeah, that’s right. I did. There was plenty of mutual ripping that night. And my memory is working just fine, thanks.” His smile was slow and sexy, his eyes a vivid intense blue. “How is yours?”

“I can barely remember it now.”

The corners of his mouth flickered. “Because it wasn’t a very memorable night, was it? Look,” he said, as he took the glass from her, “I’m bad at relationships, I admit it. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to pretend that night didn’t happen. Next time you’re worried about something, pick up the phone.”

“I don’t have your number and I don’t want it.” Their relationship had never been about numbers and phone calls. It had been about hot sex, and it was hot sex she was thinking of now and she knew he was, too.

“I’m not suggesting you call me while I’m operating to tell me you love me, but if you’d had my number you could have called me tonight instead of worrying.”

“Do people do that? Call you while you’re operating?”

“Sometimes.” He leaned against her kitchen counter. “Women usually want more than I can give.”

“I don’t.”

She knew she never would have called him. Calling was the first step on the path to a relationship and she’d never tread that path again, not even a little way. She’d done it before and it had been like walking over broken glass with bare feet. She still bore the scars and it was because of those scars her heart no longer had a say in any of the decisions in her life.

When it came to men, her head was in charge.

Sean held out his hand. “Give me your phone.”

“There’s no need.”

“Give it to me or I’ll wrestle it away from you and then things could get ugly.” He kept his hand outstretched and, reluctantly, she dug it out of her pocket.

“This is ridiculous.”

He leaned forward and prised it from her fingers with the determination of a man who knew what he wanted and went for it. “I love the way you roll your r’s. It’s very sexy.” Cool and collected, he accessed her contacts and keyed in his number. “Next time you’re worried about something, call me.”

“Fine. I’ll call you twenty times a day when you’re operating to tell you I love you, and if you don’t answer I’ll leave a message.”

He laughed. “My team will enjoy each and every one of those calls.”

“Maybe I will sell your number on eBay and make some money for Snow Crystal.”

“What’s the going rate for overworked surgeons? I’m probably not worth much.” Handing the phone back, he turned his attention back to the pastries. “Are those for eating?”

“No.”

“You’re cruel and heartless. I knew it the moment I met you. You used me for a night of scorching sex and then discarded me.”

Flirting with him was like dancing with fire.

One wrong move and that heat would burn and leave permanent damage.

Not once had she ever questioned her decision to spend the night with him, but there was no way she would do it again.

“Tell me more about Walter.”

“Feed me first. I haven’t eaten a proper meal since breakfast and that wasn’t a memorable experience.” He eyed the tray of pastries. “They look almost too pretty to eat, but not quite.”

“They’re an experiment.”

“I’m a doctor. I’m a believer in the importance of research in the pursuit of excellence and I’m happy to help you out. I’ll even submit a paper to the New England Journal of Medicine. Relief of anxiety symptoms after ingestion of Élise’s cooking. Don’t make me beg.”

“You don’t need to beg.” She slid her phone back into her pocket, resisting the temptation to delete his number. Just because it was in there, didn’t mean she had to use it. “I’m still working on the menu for the café, even though there is no possibility of us opening on time.”

“How much work is there to be done?”

“Not much. That’s what makes it all the more frustrating. We were so nearly there. But it will open eventually and I’m devising a whole new menu. It will be a different dining experience.”

A cool breeze blew in through the open door and she heard the call of a bird as it flew low over the lake. The stillness of the night added to the intimacy.

She told herself that she could control the chemistry, that she could either act on it or ignore it. Either way she would make the decision with her head, as she always did.

“This particular dining experience smells good. I predict I’ll be a frequent guest.”

“You live a four-hour drive from Snow Crystal.”

“Tonight I did it in three.”

“So you’re going to be driving here for my food?” She reached for a plate but he had already helped himself to a pastry.

He bit into it and moaned deep in his throat. Élise turned away quickly, thinking that all the sophisticated tailoring in the world didn’t disguise the raw physicality of the man.

“If you’re still alive in five minutes, I’ll assume they pass the test,” she said lightly. “For the café the plan is to keep the menu simple and of course, we’ll source as much locally as we already do for the restaurant. Vermont is the most beautiful place. We want to support local agriculture and do everything we can to give our guests locally grown food. Green Mountain ham, local cheeses, fruit from our orchard and salad from our gardens. And our own maple syrup, of course, or Walter would kill me. It’s going to be about flavor and quality.”

“And quantity, I hope. How many of these am I allowed to eat?” His hand hovered over another. “And before you decide I should tell you my last meal was over twelve hours ago and I spent most of the day in the operating room.”

“You’ll eat the next one the way it is supposed to be served, on a plate with salad. In France we believe food is something to be savored, not crammed into the mouth while standing up.” It took her moments to combine various salad leaves and mix a dressing. She plated it up swiftly along with the warm pastry, added bread she’d made earlier in the day and handed it to him. “The bread is sea salt and rosemary. You can tell me what you think.”

“I think I might marry you so that I can eat like this every day.”

Her heart pumped a little harder.

Marriage.

The word alone had an almost visceral effect on her. Even after so many years it turned her cold and made her want to look over her shoulder.

“Then you’d be disappointed. I cook for a living. When I am at home on my own I sometimes just make myself a perfect omelette.”

“When I’m operating I don’t always have time to eat. I take fuel when I can.”

She was conscious of the width and power of his shoulders, of his height in the small space and the shadow that darkened his lean jaw. His sex appeal was undeniable and suddenly Heron Lodge seemed smaller than ever. She was a physical person and she’d denied that part of herself for too long. Her stomach was tight with awareness, her nerve endings alive to the change in the atmosphere. Its chemistry spun a web around them, trapping them both. She wondered what he’d say if he knew she hadn’t slept with a man since him.

“Let’s go outside on the deck.” She handed him the heaped plate. “It’s a warm evening and after spending a day in the restaurant and the hospital I need fresh air. You can tell me about Walter.”

Sean pulled out a chair next to the little wooden table she’d placed right by the water. Her deck was bathed by light spilling from the open door of the lodge. “I gather you were with him when it happened.” He started to eat and she realized this was probably how life was for him. Snatching what time he could between the ferocious demands of his job.

“It was horrible. One minute he was teasing me about those ‘terrible French pancakes’ as he calls them. The next he was on the floor. My hands were shaking so badly I could hardly make the phone call. I thought I’d killed him.”

“It wasn’t your fault.” He tore a chunk of bread. “There were no clues before that? No mentions of chest pains?”

“He said nothing to me. Elizabeth said he’d mentioned indigestion a few times, but nothing that rang any alarm bells. He has been helping me with the deck. I feel so guilty about that.”

“Don’t. This place is his passion and the physical demands of keeping it running are part of the reason he has stayed fit for so long.”

“I should have thought of a way of involving him that didn’t include him doing physical work.”

“No one has ever been able to stop Gramps from doing physical work. In all the years I lived here I never saw him take a day off. He worked. We all worked.” Sean finished the bread. “This is good. Sea salt and rosemary gets my vote.”

As he ate, he updated her about his grandfather.

She envied his calm, and was reassured by it. “I am very worried for him. He’s eighty.” Which was why she dared to love him. He was the only man in possession of her heart, apart from Jackson, to whom she owed a debt she could never repay.

“There’s no reason why he shouldn’t make a full recovery.”

Except that life was full of events that weren’t reasonable and made no sense, she knew that.

Élise rubbed her fingers across her forehead, refusing to let her mind linger on that thought. “Did your mother come home with you?”

“Yes, I brought her back. But Grams won’t leave his side. Tyler’s there now and I’ll go back later.”

The O’Neil family stuck together in difficult times. It was one of the many things she loved about them. That was why Sean had driven straight here after a day of operating. No one from this family would ever find themselves alone and struggling. No one would find themselves sitting in a dark Paris room with the door barricaded and no one to turn to.

“You must be exhausted. You can’t go back to the hospital tonight.”

“We can’t leave Grams there by herself and Tyler needs to get some rest. I’ll grab a few hours before I go back.” He lifted his broad shoulders in a dismissive shrug. “One of the advantages of medical training is that you learn to function on little sleep.”

“Walter must have been very relieved to see you.”

“He opened his eyes for long enough to tell me to get the hell back to Boston where I belonged.” He finished his food and pushed the plate away. “That was delicious. Best thing I’ve tasted in months.”

“He said that?” Shocked, Élise stared at him. “He didn’t mean it.”

“Yes, he did. Don’t look so worried. I took it as a sign that at least part of him was functioning normally. If he’d welcomed me with hugs and balloons I would have been sending him for a brain scan.” But Sean’s smile was tired and Élise felt a flash of frustration that human relationships had to be so complicated.

“Is that why you don’t come home more? Because he’s difficult?”

“My home is Boston.” His answer was smooth. “And I come home when my schedule allows.”

Which was hardly ever. She’d assumed he was busy. Occasionally she’d wondered if his absence had something to do with her. Now she wondered if there was more to it. “Don’t you miss Snow Crystal?”

“I like the city. I like having a choice of restaurants within two blocks and access to culture. Don’t you ever miss Paris? I can’t believe you don’t sometimes feel trapped in a place like this.”

Surrounded by lakes, forests, mountains and beauty, working in a job she loved with people who cared about her?

This wasn’t trapped.

Something dark unfurled inside her.

She’d been trapped and it had felt nothing like this.

“I don’t miss Paris.” When she thought of Paris now, she thought not of strolling along the Jardin des Tuileries or of the light playing over the surface of the Seine, she thought of him. She thought of the ugly side of love and relationships. She lifted her hand to her short, styled hair and felt suddenly cold. “I love it here. Even though I wasn’t born at Snow Crystal, I’m sure I love it as much as you do.”

“Well, that’s lucky for my family. You’re an exceptional chef. Before you arrived our taste buds had never really lived. Whatever Jackson did to persuade you to come here, we’re all grateful.”

Jackson hadn’t persuaded her. He’d offered her a lifeline. She’d messed up her life through a series of bad choices and Jackson had given her a way out. Without him—

She didn’t want to think about that. But she was never going to let him regret his decision. She was going to make sure that Snow Crystal was known for its food as well as its other charms. She was determined to do her bit to make the place a success, but she was already failing, wasn’t she? She’d promised the Boathouse Café would be open in time to make the most of the summer tourist traffic and now it wouldn’t be. The delay would harm them, there was no doubt about that.

Frustrated and upset with herself, Élise stared at the glassy surface of the lake, barely visible in the darkness.

This place felt more like home than anywhere she’d ever lived.

Sean leaned back in his chair, watching her. “You look as if someone just killed your pet rabbit. Is this about my grandfather or is it something else?”

“It’s nothing. I’m just tired.”

“Don’t lie to me. I’m a doctor. I spend my entire life talking to anxious patients. Tell me what’s wrong.”

She stared at the water and shrugged. “I am upset because I’m letting him down.”

“Who? Gramps?”

“Jackson. He is working so hard to save Snow Crystal. The Boathouse Café is part of that. The launch wasn’t just an excuse for a party, it was supposed to be a way of showing important people how far we’ve come. How much the place has to offer. I wanted to make it happen for him.”

“So it will happen a bit late. No big deal.”

“It is a big deal! I owe him so much.” Seeing the question in his eyes, she realized she’d said too much. “I mean, I work for him and I love it here. It’s in my interests that this place survives and thrives.”

“Lucky Jackson, having staff as loyal as you.” He was silent for a moment. “How did the two of you meet? I don’t think I’ve ever asked either of you that.”

“We met in Paris.” She phrased her answer carefully. “He ate in the restaurant I once worked in.”

“Chez Laroche? I know you worked for Pascal Laroche. I read that you were the only woman in his kitchen.”

He knew that? Somehow, she kept the smile fixed on her face. “That’s right.”

“Major career achievement. I ate there once. He’s brilliant.”

And controlling, unscrupulous and, as it turned out, violent.

“He taught me a great deal.”

It wasn’t a lie. Pascal had taught her, not just how to make a perfect soufflé but that love was a gift that, once given, left a person exposed and vulnerable. He’d taught her that love could be obsessive, narcissistic and sometimes dangerous. He’d taught her that and more and the lessons had been well learned and never forgotten.

She’d graduated from his school of life with honors.

Pascal hadn’t killed her belief in love. You only had to look at Walter and Alice or Jackson and Kayla to know love existed. No, he’d killed her belief in herself. Her belief in her ability to judge people, her ability to know where and when to trust. Passion had blinded her. Impaired her judgment. She wasn’t going to let it happen again, no matter how attractive the man.

Wishing she hadn’t started the conversation, Élise rose. “Would you like cheese?”

“No, thanks. How are you feeling? Dizziness gone?”

“Yes.” All she was feeling was sick, but thinking about Pascal always did that to her. “It was a stressful day. Thank you for listening.”

“Exercise is good for stress.” Sean stood up. “I’d suggest sex, but I’m guessing you’d say no, so why don’t we go for a walk instead?”

Distracted by the mention of sex, Élise stared at him. “Walk?”

“You’d prefer sex?” His lazy gaze was loaded with humor and she felt some of the tension ease.

“I should go to bed.”

“You won’t sleep with all that adrenaline rushing around your veins. Show me what you’ve done with the boathouse. Last time I saw the place it was nothing but splintered planks and cobwebs.”

“Now? It’s dark.”

“I’ll be fine if you hold my hand.”

It was impossible not to smile. “All right.”

Why not? Deciding that fresh forest air might stop her from thinking of Walter and her past, she walked back into her lodge and picked up a thin sweater and a flashlight.

It was just a walk. Just two people enjoying some fresh air.

Where was the harm in that?

CHAPTER THREE

HIS PLAN HAD been to give her a report on his grandfather and leave. What hadn’t been part of his plan was lingering and eating a meal, but when he’d arrived she’d looked so shocked to see him he’d thought she was going to pass out at his feet.

There was no way he was leaving her on her own until he was sure she was all right.

“I’m ready, but I warn you it isn’t finished so you’ll need to be careful where you tread.” Switching on the flashlight, she took the steps to the lake path that wound through trees to the almost finished café. “We’re finishing off the interior over the next few days but opening will be delayed because of the deck.”

He wondered why she was so agitated about it. “What difference does a few days make? It’s a café, not a matter of life or death.”

She turned, almost dazzling him with the beam of light. “It could mean life or death for Snow Crystal. Don’t you care?” In the seconds before he was temporarily blinded, he saw the blaze of anger in her eyes.

It didn’t surprise him.

Élise was emotional and passionate about everything. He’d witnessed the intensity of that passion once before, on that night when both of them had ceased to pretend their mutual attraction didn’t exist.

“This place has been in my family for four generations. Of course I care.” His emotions were much more complex than that simple statement suggested, but he had no intention of sharing that.

The light wobbled. “But what we do here is not really important?”

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

“You are saying it has to be a person’s life before it matters? Well let me tell you something, Sean O’Neil.” She advanced on him, her green eyes the only color in her pale face. “This place is like a person to me. And the people who live and work here matter more than anything. And if Snow Crystal doesn’t survive, then that will make a huge difference to people’s lives. You might not want to be involved with what is going on here, but don’t ever dismiss it as irrelevant.”

She was wild. Furious. Uncontrolled. She’d also switched to French without realizing it.

He knew her exaggerated response was fallout from the intense emotion of the day. He saw the same thing happen all the time in his working life.

It made perfect sense.

What made less sense was the fact that he wanted to kiss her.

He wanted to slide his fingers into her hair, cover her mouth with his and kiss her until the fire in her eyes turned from anger to passion. He wanted to taste that passion again, feel it slide over his tongue and into his veins.

Disturbed by how badly he wanted to grab her, knowing that the last thing he needed in his life was a romantic entanglement, he stepped back. “I never said it was irrelevant. You’re worried about opening late. I was trying to put it in perspective.”

“Your perspective and mine are different.” She turned and walked away, the beam from the flashlight bouncing angrily across the path.

While he was waiting for his vision to adjust, Sean breathed in the scent of the trees and the water and was immediately transported back to his childhood.

He was back in a place that made him feel as if he were being suffocated. And now, to complicate things, he was with a woman who made him think of nothing but sex.

A woman who had walked off with the flashlight. He followed her down the path, making his way, barely able to see where he was going, cursing fluently as his feet crunched on twigs and sank into something soft and unidentifiable.

“That’s a perfectly good pair of shoes ruined. I should have followed Gramps’s orders and driven straight back to Boston.”

She turned, almost blinding him with the beam of the flashlight. “So why didn’t you?”

“Because I’ve had a long day.” And because the sight of his grandmother’s pale face had been enough to weld his feet to the floor. “And the food is pretty good around here. I’m planning on hanging around for a while.”

“Good. Because whatever Walter says, your family needs you.” She paused, her shoulders stiff. “I apologize for shouting. You made me angry.”

“Yeah, I got that. Still, at least you didn’t smack me over the head with the flashlight. I should probably be grateful for that. Any chance you could shine it at my feet so I can see what I’m stepping in?”

“It’s a forest! How did you ever survive growing up here?”

“I didn’t wear expensive shoes.” He contemplated wiping them on something but decided it would make it worse. “We used to play down here when we were kids. Mom would send us out with a picnic and we played pirates on the lake and built a camp in the forest. We smeared ourselves with mud to camouflage ourselves and then hid when Gramps came looking for us.”

She eyed his suit. “I cannot imagine you filthy and covered in mud.”

“Take a closer look and you’ll see it now.” He cursed again as his foot slid. “These shoes are Italian.” Giving up on his feet, he glanced up though leaves and branches. “Tyler fell out of this one. He never could keep quiet. He was wriggling, fell and broke his arm. That was the first time I saw what bone looked like. He screamed himself hoarse. Jackson was white and rushing around trying to remember the first aid we’d been taught while I stood there thinking, it would be so cool to know how to fix that. The following winter Jackson broke his arm snowboarding and that was when I knew for sure I wanted to be a doctor. I was seven years old.” He grinned at her. “Of course, I also thought it would be a great way to pull women.”

She glared at him. “You don’t charm me. I’m still angry with you.”

“There’s no justice in the world.”

“You think women are impressed by the fact you’re a doctor?”

Plenty were, but he decided this wasn’t a good moment to mention that. “Obviously you’re not.”

“Maybe you should have chosen something impressive like brain surgery.”

“I could retrain. You think that would make a difference to my hit rate?”

Her scathing look told him she knew exactly how good his hit rate was. “If you’re trying to pull women you should change the way you tell the story—less mention of bone and more heroics might help.”

“You want heroics?”

“Every woman wants heroics.”

“Really? I had no idea. It’s a wonder I’ve scored at all in the past. So give me some help here—what do I have to do to impress you? Fight a moose? Wrestle a bear?”

“Wouldn’t that ruin your suit?” She was softening, her anger a faint glow instead of an intense burn.

“I could ask the bear to wait while I hang my jacket on a tree.” The scent of her hair made him dizzy. He was sure if a bear walked up now, he wouldn’t notice it.

“You pretend to worry about your suit, but you are quite at home in the forest.”

Sean’s foot sank into mud again and he turned the air blue. “Trust me, I really am worried about my suit. It’s done nothing to deserve this treatment.”

“So it has to be intellectual heroism. Nothing physical.”

“I have no problems with physical.” He moved closer to her and saw her back away fractionally. “I just might remove my clothes first.”

She backed away until she was pressed up against the tree. “Don’t flirt with me.”

“Why not? It’s the perfect way to take our minds off a bad day.” He planted his hand against the tree and smiled down at her, forcing himself not to kiss that mouth. Not yet.

She’d probably been on her feet for hours and yet she looked cool and elegant, a scarf knotted with artful simplicity around her throat. Her style was effortless and subtle, her hair glossy dark and cut in a sleek, geometric bob that brushed her jaw. She looked delicate and fragile but he knew she was neither of those things. She was strong, fit and driven by more passion and energy than anyone he’d ever met except perhaps his grandfather. She poured that passion and energy into everything she did, from cooking to—

His body hardened.

She pushed at his chest. “We’re here because you wanted to see the boathouse, remember?”

“I confess I brought you here with nefarious intentions.”

“Nefarious?” She rolled her tongue around the word and he tried to focus his mind sufficiently to provide a translation.

“Maléfique?”

“Wicked. Of course.” She frowned, irritated with herself. “It’s just not a word I have reason to use often at Snow Crystal.”

“Maybe we should do something about that.”

“I don’t think so.” Cool, back in control, she ducked under his arm. “You wanted to see what we’ve done, so come and see. I’m excited about this place. It’s the first time I’ve been involved with something from the start.”

He forced himself to focus on her words and not on the long, lean lines of her body.

“So I’ve told you why I wanted to be a doctor. Now it’s your turn. Did you always want to be a chef?”

It occurred to him that it was the first personal question he’d asked her.

“From the age of four. I was making madeleines with my mother. She was a pâtissière. You call it pastry chef. She stood me on a stool so that I could reach the table and I helped her whisk the mixture. I still remember how it felt to pull the tray from the oven and know I’d made them. The aroma filled our little apartment. And so did my mother’s smile when she tasted them. I decided that was what I wanted to do. Make people smile with my food.” Her own smile faltered for a moment and he saw something in her face before she turned away and walked the last few strides to the boathouse, taking the flashlight with her.

He followed, walking on a carpet of pine needles, twigs crunching under his feet while wondering what the rest of her story was. Because there was more, he was sure of that.

She took the steps onto the half-finished deck. “Be careful not to trip. There are still some planks lying around and the railings aren’t finished. You might end up in the water.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time. My shoes are already ruined so I might as well ruin the suit right along with it.” He glanced around him, surprised by the progress. “You’re closer to finished than I thought you’d be.”

“That makes it worse. We so nearly made our deadline.”

“Why this obsession with deadlines? Is my brother a tough boss or something? Do you need me to beat him up for you?”

Her eyes glinted in the semidarkness. “Jackson is the best boss anyone could ever have. Do not ever say a single word against him or you’ll make me angry.”

“Hey, calm down. Jackson is a saint,” Sean drawled. “I’ve always said it.” But he wondered what it was about his brother that induced such loyalty from Élise.

Pondering that, dealing with the surprising flash of jealousy, he strolled across the half-completed deck and stared through the glass into darkness.

It was strange to see it renovated.

This place had been his hideout. Somewhere he could sit with his nose in a book and not be disturbed. Hell, he was pretty sure he’d carved mathematical algorithms into the time frame. He and his brothers had played on the old splintered planks and hidden when their grandfather had come looking for them. There had always been something that needed to be done at Snow Crystal. Trails to be cleared, logs to be chopped, trees to be tapped—the list of jobs was endless and his grandfather had applied himself tirelessly to the upkeep of the family home.

Sean remembered his tenth birthday when his grandfather had told him proudly that Snow Crystal would belong to the three boys one day. It was a legacy, he’d said, something that had to be preserved and protected for future generations.

Sean had kept his head down and sanded the planks of wood, thinking of the science books in his bag and wanting to ask his grandfather if “legacy” meant the same thing as “burden.” He’d heard his father use the word burden a hundred times. Heard him talk about being trapped in a life he hadn’t wanted.

Sean hadn’t wanted it, either.

Instead, he dreamed of being a surgeon. And he dreamed of doing it in a large, busy hospital far away from the lake and forests of Snow Crystal.

You didn’t need to come. You should have stayed in Boston.

With his grandfather’s voice ringing in his ears, Sean paced to the edge of the completed part of the deck. “I’m not used to seeing this place without daylight between the planks. So what is left to do apart from the deck?”

“Just finishing touches.” Élise was looking through the glass into the empty shell. “The internal decoration was finished yesterday. I still have to take delivery of tables and chairs and I have a few final staff interviews to do. All that was supposed to be finished in time for the opening party.”

“And when is that?”

“A week from today. I know Kayla sent you an invitation.”

“I get a lot of emails.”

“You weren’t planning to come.” She sounded baffled, as if she couldn’t understand how a person with his heritage wouldn’t want to spend every spare minute here. And he was used to that. He didn’t expect her to understand.

“I was going to check my schedule.”

The night air was still and quiet, the only sound the occasional call of an owl or a soft splash as a bird skimmed the surface of the lake.

“Whatever he said to you, however he acted, I know your grandfather would have been pleased and relieved to see you there tonight.”

Pleased?

Sean bent to pick up a stone, wondering how he was supposed to answer that. He could ignore the question, or he could just be honest. In the end he chose an answer halfway between the two. “Grams was relieved I was there.”

If Élise noticed the omission she didn’t comment. “Where are you staying tonight?”

Pushing away the past, he turned. “Is that an invitation?”

“No. Will you stay with your mother?”

“She already has Jess staying. It’s simpler for everyone, at least while Gramps is still in the hospital and Tyler is coming and going.” He sent the stone spinning across the water and it bounced, skimmed and vanished into the darkness. “I’ll use Jackson’s spare room.”

“The whole family will feel much better having you here, even if it’s only a night or two.”

“And how will you feel?”

Her gaze skidded to his. “Of course, I am pleased, too. It is a very great stress having someone you love in the hospital and I love Walter.”

“That wasn’t what I was asking you.” He’d often wondered. Wondered whether she thought of it. Thought of him. The fact that the night had held no emotional significance hadn’t stopped it being unforgettable.

“I don’t have a problem with you being here.” Her voice was husky in the darkness. “It isn’t awkward, if that’s what you’re asking me. But it must be a great pressure for you. You need to make sure you think of yourself, too.”

“That’s good advice.” Taking it, he slid his hand behind her head and brought his mouth down on hers in a hard, demanding kiss that stirred up a raw hunger. A kaleidoscope of emotions ripped through him but the prime one was need. It spread through him, not slowly, but like wildfire burning everything in sight. Gripped by it, Sean powered her back against the railing and trapped her there.

Last time, she’d started it.

Now it was his turn.

He felt the softness of her body pressing through the thin fabric of his shirt, the erotic slide of her tongue against his, and desire escalated to a dangerous blaze. Her arms went around his neck and she purred deep in her throat like a thoroughly contented kitten.

His brain blurred.

No other woman had made him feel like this. No other woman had stirred this intense, desperate hunger that wiped all thoughts from his head.

Maybe it was because she didn’t want anything from him but this, and knowing that meant he could relax and give in to it.

Rock-hard, he felt her tug his shirt out of his trousers and slide her hands over his skin, greedy to touch him. And he was equally greedy to touch her. His fingers were on her buttons, loosening them, giving him access to the smooth creamy skin revealed by the lace of her bra.

His body craved hers. It was a visceral, physical need that drove all thought from his brain.

And then she stilled, placed her hands on his chest and drew her mouth away from his.

Sensing the change in her he stopped himself from dragging her back. “What’s wrong?”

“We shouldn’t be doing this. It’s been a tough day. Our judgment is impaired.”

“My judgment is just fine.” He held her hard against his body, leaving her in no doubt that he wanted this as much as she did, but she eased away from him and buttoned her shirt.

“You’re in the middle of a stressful experience.”

“And I was managing my stress levels with physical contact.”

“Sex should not be an emotional decision. You’re tired. You need to get to Jackson’s and get some sleep.”

He wondered if it was worth pointing out there was no way he’d sleep. “Fine, but admit to me that that kiss was the best part of your day.”

“It didn’t have much competition. It was a very bad day.” Her hand lingered on his chest as if she was still making up her mind whether to hold on or pull away. She pulled away. “Good night, Sean.”

“Wait—” he caught her arm “—I’ll walk you back to your lodge.”

“I don’t need your protection.”

“I was planning on using you for protection. For my suit, you understand. You’re the one with the flashlight. You go first. That way if something goes squelch, you step in it first.”

“Such a gentleman.” But he heard the smile in her voice.

“You said you wanted a man to perform heroics. I was planning on finding something heroic to do on the walk.” He let go of her arm and adjusted his pace to match hers. “You might want to stick around. You’re about to see a tough, macho man of the forest in action.”

“Does a tough, macho man of the forest always choose to dress in a suit?”

“A bear tore my loincloth when we were wrestling.”

“I can’t imagine you in a loincloth.”

“Mine are custom-made. I have them shipped from Milan.”

They reached Heron Lodge and she took the steps two at a time, lithe and athletic. “Sleep well, Sean.”

“Will you be all right tonight? Are you sure you want to sleep alone?” He had no idea why he’d asked that question. What would he do if she said no? Spending the whole night with a woman wasn’t something he did.

“I sleep alone every night, Sean.” She paused with her hand on the door, a quiet, wistful note to her voice. “And that’s the way it’s staying.”

CHAPTER FOUR

ÉLISE ROSE AT dawn after a night where her only sleep had produced a nightmare in which Jackson told her Snow Crystal had been sold and the shock had killed Walter.

After splashing her face with cold water, she pulled on her shorts and running shoes, grabbed her water bottle and MP3 player and paused for a moment on the deck to breathe in the scent of the lake. The water was mirror-smooth, reflecting a perfect image of the trees crowding the shoreline. The air was fresh and clean. A cool breeze brushed over her bare arms, waking her up and driving out the dream.

It was her favorite time of day. In Paris she would have run along the banks of the Seine and through the Jardin des Tuileries in front of the Louvre, the accompanying sounds the noise of traffic and the cacophony of horns. She would have weaved through crowds of fractious tourists and breathed in air clogged by traffic fumes while her feet pounded pavements baked by the summer sun. Here, the air she breathed was fresh and clean and the only sounds came from the forest and the lake. Even days when it rained continuously didn’t detract from her love of the place.

She ran along the forest path to the boathouse and the only sounds were her breathing, the crack of twigs underfoot and the call of the birds. A family of ducks swam lazily around the edge of the lake, diving in and out of the reeds.

As she took the steps to the boathouse, she glanced at the railing, half expecting to see a charred mark where Sean had kissed her, but the wood was smooth and perfect.

The forest had kept their secret for a year and it seemed it was willing to keep it a little longer.

Her friends were already waiting for her.

Brenna was warming up, performing a series of small lunges while Kayla was leaning against the trunk of a tree, using the time to catch up on work.

“You’re late, Chef.” She spoke without looking up from her phone. Scarily efficient, she lived her life with one eye on the clock. Right now her blond hair was pulled into a ponytail but later it would hang smooth and perfect to her shoulders as she attacked her working day.

Élise had seen the effort Kayla had put into building the Snow Crystal name and had nothing but respect for her. It wasn’t just because of Jackson that the business was still alive and they all had jobs.

“Any news on Walter?” Brenna bent into a deep stretch. Supremely fit from her job running the Outdoor Center and sports program, she was the one who had suggested their daily morning run and they’d been doing it since the snow had melted. Today she was wearing a scoop-neck tank top in bright fuchsia-pink with a pair of minuscule black shorts.

Élise blinked. “Has Tyler ever seen you in those?”

“No idea. Why would I even care?”

Élise shared a brief glance with Kayla who shrugged and then went back to her phone.

Brenna’s feelings for Tyler were something they’d both learned not to mention.

“You need to put that phone down and warm your muscles up, Kayla.” Brenna carried on stretching. “One of these days you’re going to have an injury.”

“I just left Jackson in bed. I’m toasty warm, thank you very much.” But she halfheartedly jogged on the spot while she finished dealing with her emails. “And Walter had a good night, according to Sean. He called Jackson from the hospital just before I left. Do we have to run today? Can’t we just test the new coffee machine in the Boathouse? Élise makes great coffee.”

“No.” Brenna put her hands behind her head and squeezed her shoulder blades together. “Without me you’d turn into a couch potato.”

“I would love to be a couch potato.” Kayla smothered a yawn. “I didn’t get enough sleep last night.”

“Thanks for pointing out you’re the only one of the three of us with a sex life.”

“It isn’t my sex life that’s making me tired. It was Sean, crashing around at three in the morning to go to the hospital. He spent the night at our place. Why can’t men ever tread softly? I thought a moose was walking through the living room.”

“He’s six-two. All that prime male muscle weighs some.” Brenna winked at Kayla. “Not that I’d know, of course. I’ve never had his weight on me.”

“Jackson told him we have a house rule about guests not walking around naked.” Kayla looked up from her phone long enough to smile. “I told him that wasn’t my house rule.”

“Wouldn’t be mine, either. Or Élise’s, I’ll guess.” Brenna adjusted her running shoes and glanced slyly at Élise. “Now that Sean’s home, your sex life might liven up.”

Élise was lost in a pit of gloom over having to cancel the party. “Why would my sex life liven up?”

“You and Sean were pretty close last summer.”

Élise was beginning to wish she hadn’t told them what had happened. “It was one night. And if either of you mention it to Jackson I will kill you.”

“Why only one night?”

“Because I felt like having sex and so did Sean.” And she would never, ever risk more than one night. “Haven’t you ever just had sex because a guy is seriously hot and makes you laugh?”

“No. I’ve never been any good at the one-night thing.” Brenna pulled her dark hair into a ponytail. “Just about everyone I meet has known me since kindergarten. If I have a one-night stand with someone chances are I’ll bump into them in the store the next day. I’d die.”

“Why would that cause you to die?” Élise was curious. “Why would it matter if you bumped into them?”

“It would be majorly embarrassing.”

“If it was something you both agreed to, why would it be embarrassing? You just say bonjour and smile or if the sex was really bad I suppose you might just smile a little less. Be a little cooler so that they don’t think you want to do it again.”

Brenna gave her a look of exasperation. “Are all French people like you?”

“Je ne sais pas. Kayla asked me the same question yesterday. I don’t know all French people, only a few. But I don’t understand why sex between consenting adults is something to feel embarrassed about. It is certainly not a reason to die.”

“So you don’t feel embarrassed when you see Sean? It isn’t at all uncomfortable? You don’t look at him and think shit I wish I hadn’t done that?”

“No, I look at him and think Élise, this guy is super hot and you have impeccable taste in men. It was great sex and why would I ever regret great sex?”

“So why not do it again?”

“My rule is one night.”

“I had a rule of never having a relationship with someone at work.” Kayla sent another email. “Look at me now.”

“That doesn’t count.” Brenna flipped open the cap on her water bottle. “Technically speaking, you didn’t work for Jackson.”

“He was a client,” Kayla said dryly. “I think that’s probably worse. Shame Brett didn’t just fire me for gross misconduct. Then I wouldn’t have spent the last six months commuting backward and forward between New York and Snow Crystal.”

“You could have left sooner.”

“Yes, but we were in the middle of projects and I have too much pride in my work to abandon them.”

“You mean you are a control freak.”

“That, too.” Kayla shrugged. “Hey, I admit it. And talking of control freaks, I need your plans for the winter program, Bren, so I can work up some promotional ideas.”

“Sure. While Sean is home I’m going to pin him down and talk him into helping me design a pre-season conditioning program of strength training for the winter. He’s an expert in sports medicine. I thought we’d offer a short program for the guests and also advice on avoiding ski injuries. Sean has a good reputation. He’s a skier as well as a surgeon so he has a lot of respect around here.”

“Better be quick about it.” Kayla finally slipped her phone into her pocket. “I doubt he’ll hang around for long.”

“Maybe he’ll stay because Élise is here,” Brenna suggested.

“The principle behind one night is that it’s just one night.” Why did they have such trouble understanding that? “I cannot make this any plainer. The only reason I would want him to stay is for Walter.”

But Walter had told him to go. Why? Was it pride? Was he worried about Sean’s job? His stress levels?

“One night doesn’t sound very romantic. You never want to fall in love and get married? What?” Brenna spread her hands as they both stared at her. “So I admit I’m a little old-fashioned. I believe in relationships and happy-ever-afters and maybe it’s not cool to admit it, but I want all that one day. The whole package. I know there’s a man out there for me somewhere. I just need time to leave this place so I can find him.”

Élise suspected the right man might be closer than Brenna thought.

Kayla glanced at her and then shrugged, clearly thinking there was no point in broaching a subject Brenna refused to touch. “Give up, Bren. Does Élise really strike you as the nesting type?”

Élise slid her headphones into her ears. “Let’s run.”

They had no idea.

Once, she’d wanted all those things. She’d dreamed of family and a love like the one Walter and Alice shared. A love that would last decades and weather the hailstones that life hurled down from time to time. She’d dreamed of all that and more, but then she’d learned that dreams could be dangerous and love was the most dangerous emotion of all.

It could destroy a person. Break them into pieces.

She ran hard and fast, using exercise to clear her head, overtaking even Brenna and arriving back first to the Boathouse.

She unlocked the door and opened up the glass front, allowing in light and air, feeling a rush of excitement as she saw the newly painted interior and the floor. Framed photographs of Snow Crystal taken in all four seasons hung on the walls. She’d chosen everything, from the chairs to the china and she was thrilled with the result.

It was going to be a success, she knew it.

The Inn at Snow Crystal, the main restaurant, was perfect for people looking for elegant fine dining. It was for special occasions—birthdays, anniversaries, the celebration of a vacation, but not everyone could afford that, or wanted that. Sometimes all people wanted was to enjoy a relaxed meal with their family with a view of the water. They wanted to enjoy fresh, simple food that wouldn’t blow the holiday budget.

Élise had been experimenting with dishes for months. The Boathouse would serve fresh, seasonal food either on the pretty, sun-baked deck or indoors while summer rain drenched the roof. She’d worked hard on the children’s menu, developing recipes that were varied, appealing and nutritious. There would be something for everyone.

She’d overseen everything from kitchen design to the subtle outdoor lighting that would add a little romance for couples wanting to savor a special evening dining alfresco.

Breakfast by the water would be a highlight. There would be fluffy pancakes, both American and French crêpes, served with their own maple syrup. She’d perfected a homemade granola recipe and she intended to offer it with fresh blueberries and compote made from fruits picked from the orchard. She’d even considered making her own Snow Crystal apple juice.

For those who rose later in the day there would be a range of coffee options with freshly baked pastries. Lunch and dinner would be a bistro menu, with food from the grill. Casual, but still top-quality. All her food was purchased from local suppliers and she spent a part of every week visiting farmers and working to build long-term relationships with the local agricultural community. Seasonal and sustainable were the two words she drummed into the people who worked for her.

Everything was perfect, except the fact that they wouldn’t open on time.

Brenna ran across the deck without pausing. “See you later.”

Kayla arrived two minutes later, panting for breath. “You two are going to kill me. If I don’t die on the way home, I’ll email you that list and we can start making those calls to cancel the party.”

Left alone with that dispiriting thought, Élise made coffee for herself but even her new coffee machine couldn’t cheer her up. She ground the beans fresh, tamped the coffee and then timed the pour, taking comfort from the familiarity of the routine. Unfortunately it didn’t take her mind off the fact that she’d failed Jackson. Nor did it take her mind off Sean.

It was a good job her friends hadn’t chosen to go for a late-night run or they might have witnessed more than the flight of an owl.

And no doubt they would have read things into it that weren’t there.

People did that, didn’t they? To most people a kiss was never just a kiss, but always the prelude to something more.

Not for her.

Never for her.

With the sun shining and the aroma of fresh coffee rising from the cup, she started to relax.

She’d make the calls. Get it done.

There really wasn’t a problem.

She’d reached the point of almost believing that when she turned her head and saw Sean standing on her almost finished deck.

HE’D BEEN WATCHING her for a full minute, standing in the quiet of the morning, breathing in the scent of lake and forest, tinged with the tantalizing aroma of freshly ground coffee.

After the fright he’d given her the night before he’d intended to make his presence known, but he’d been distracted first by the length of her legs in running shorts and then by his first proper look at the project he’d viewed in the dark the previous evening.

Bathed in sunlight, he could see just how much had been done and it took a minute for him to reconcile the sleek lines of the renovated boathouse with the wreck that had been his sanctuary growing up.

Before he could announce himself she’d turned, her hair swinging softly around her face and brushing her jaw. “Are you going to make a habit of showing up behind me without warning?”

“Sorry. I was just wondering what happened to all the splintered planks and spiders.” Pushing aside the past in favor of the present, he stared at the cup in her hand. “I don’t suppose you need more practice using that fancy new machine?”

“No, but if you’d like coffee I’ll make you one. Jackson and Kayla not treating you well?”

“The only coffee I could find was instant. And they definitely need you to stock their kitchen.” Sean walked across the half-finished deck, scanning the work that needed to be done. “So do you run every morning?”

“Yes. With Brenna and Kayla. You just missed them. We do a circuit of the lake.” She reached for another cup. “Espresso? I don’t have milk here yet. You’ll have to drink it black.”

“Black works for me. Double please. So this is how the place looks in daylight.”

“We’re expecting delivery of the tables today. Apart from that, the interior is almost finished.”

“That coffee machine looks as if it could fly to the moon and back on its own.” Polished chrome and levers stood proudly behind the counter that would no doubt stock an array of food once they opened. “Looks complicated.”

“This from a man who operates on complex fractures?”

“Most of the time it’s like doing a jigsaw. There’s a certain rhythm to it.” He watched as the coffee dripped into the cup, the rich, pungent smell mingling with the tang of varnish and fresh paint. The old boathouse was barely recognizable as the place he’d hidden out in his youth. The stained, splintered walls peppered by daylight no longer existed. In their place was creamy paintwork and polished floorboards. The eye was drawn, not to trees waving through gaps in the wood, but to large photographs of the lakes and mountains around Snow Crystal that now hung on the walls. Where cobwebs had once been strung floor to ceiling, there were tall elegant plants. It was stylish, and yet welcoming.

He couldn’t fault it, nor was he sentimental, so it made no sense to feel a sense of loss for what had once been. “You’ve designed this place well. I never would have thought of developing it.”

“It seemed like a good idea at the time. Today, I’m not so sure. At some point Kayla and I have to start calling a hundred and twenty people to tell them the party isn’t happening.”

“There’s no way the deck will be finished on time?”

“Not unless the elves come in the night. I am angry with myself for not putting in place a contingency plan.” She handed him the coffee, scooped up her own and took it outside. The half-finished deck was warmed by early morning sunshine. “I am lucky Jackson is too much of a gentleman to shout at me.”

“Maybe he doesn’t think there’s a reason to shout.” He followed her. “Seems to me you’re angry enough without anyone else adding to it. Are you always this hard on yourself?”

“I don’t like letting people down. I’m part of the team here.” Her voice was fierce. “This party is important. We’ve invited people from the tourist office, from local business, Kayla even has journalists coming in from New York. And I’ve messed it up.”

“I don’t see why it’s your fault. Sometimes things happen. Life happens. Believe me, I know. I clear up after life all the time. She has a habit of leaving her mess everywhere, often when people least expect it.”

“I should have built in more time. But I chose the date because I wanted the Boathouse open so that we could make the most of the summer months. I was doing my best to boost our profits and get good publicity, but now it will backfire because we will look inefficient.”

Her loyalty and devotion to a place with which she had no blood ties still puzzled him. “Do you always give your all to everything?”

“Of course. My passion is my biggest strength.” She sipped her coffee and gave a wry shrug. “And my biggest failing.”

He remembered how that passion had felt under his hands and mouth. “I don’t see it as a failing.”

Their eyes met briefly and he knew her mind was in the same place as his.

Then she turned away. “This is my favorite time of day, before I face the stress. When I see the mist on the lake, I think it’s the most beautiful place in the world, don’t you agree?”

He didn’t, but he’d learned long ago to keep those feelings to himself so he stood still and let the silence wash over him.

“Sean?”

For a moment he’d forgotten she was standing there.

“This place is full of memories.”

He turned his head and looked at what needed to be done to finish the deck, but instead of seeing planks of wood he saw his grandfather, back curved like a bow as he hunched over, sawing wood and banging in nails, Jackson kneeling next to him, soaking it in.

It had been his grandfather who had taught all three boys about the forest, the lake and the wildlife. His love for Snow Crystal was deep and unwavering. He’d been born on O’Neil land and his wish was to die on it. Sean remembered his grandfather taking him into the forest when he was five years old and showing him the growth rings on a tree trunk that had split during a storm in the night. He remembered wondering if his grandfather had the same inside him. A ring for every year he’d spent at Snow Crystal. Walter O’Neil loved the place so deeply he wasn’t able to comprehend that others might not share that devotion. That some people needed more than fresh air, beautiful scenery and a family so close there were days it had felt like being buried in an avalanche.

Sean had felt trapped and unable to breathe. Smothered by expectation.

Élise sighed. “It’s so peaceful, isn’t it? Unbelievably beautiful. You must miss it when you’re in the city.”

Miss it?

He forced himself to glance at the water and see what she was seeing. This time, instead of his grandfather, he saw trees reaching skyward, their shape reflected in the mirrored surface of the lake with perfect clarity. He saw light bounce and sparkle as the early rays of the sun kissed the surface of the water and realized that at some point in his life he’d started to see Snow Crystal as a pressure, not a place.

How often did he take the time to stand still and admire the beauty around him? His day was a series of obligations and commitments. He lived a life that barely allowed time to breathe and rarely allowed time for reflection. His job was about working fast and hard and getting things done, never about standing still.

“It’s going to be a pretty day.” It was the closest he could get to saying what she expected to hear.

“This is one of my favorite spots.” Élise moved to the edge of the deck, stepping over the part that wasn’t finished. “I went for a run on my first morning here and couldn’t understand why it hadn’t been developed along with the rest of the buildings.”

“Snow Crystal has always been full of falling-down buildings. Restoring it is a labor of love.” And he didn’t feel the love. Just the pressure. He wasn’t like Jackson, who had taken the old dilapidated barn and turned it into a stylish home. It was Jackson who had seen the potential for building log cabins in the forest for families to enjoy the outdoors. Sean was happy fixing bones, but not buildings. Left to him, the whole place would have all fallen down.

“It was an obvious site for a café. The building was already here and it had become a safety issue.” She turned, her eyes glowing with pride as she looked at the Boathouse.

Sean remembered the shaft of light that had shone through the hole in the roof onto his textbooks.

Science had excited him the way a steep slope had excited Tyler. While his brother had been executing eye-wateringly difficult feats on the snow, Sean had been indulging his fascination in the development of surgery in prehistoric cultures. He’d learned about the Edwin Smith Papyrus, the earliest known surgical text, which showed that the Egyptians had had a scientific understanding of traumatic injuries. He’d greedily devoured everything he could find about the history of surgery, reading about the Greek Galen, the work of Ambroise Paré, a French barber surgeon, and studying Joseph Lister’s contribution to reducing infection rates during surgery.

The potential of surgery to change and save lives excited him in a way that living a quiet life at Snow Crystal didn’t.

At seven years old he’d known he wanted to be an orthopedic surgeon. It was a burning ambition inside him and he knew then he didn’t want to die here with those rings inside him, showing how long he’d spent in the same place doing the same thing. He didn’t want to spend his days mending leaking roofs and maintaining trails so that tourists could churn them up again. He wanted to fix people’s bones and help them walk again. How cool was that?

“We spent a lot of time on this lake growing up.”

“Jackson told me about the time you all sank the boat.”

“That was Tyler. He was the one who sank the boat. We built it from scraps of wood lying around the place. It wasn’t what you might call completely watertight. Tyler couldn’t help standing up in the thing and rocking it. Jackson was yelling at him to sit down but Tyler never did anything anyone told him. Damn boat sank to the bottom of the lake and we all took a soaking.”

Her eyes danced. “Growing up here must have been very special.”

Special?

“It didn’t look anything like this back then.” He leaned back against the railing, remembering. “This place was a wreck. Perfect for playing pirates. We used to scoop up spiders to take to Mom.”

“Poor Elizabeth. It is a wonder she is sane.”

“She’s good with spiders. We taught her to be.” Looking at the Boathouse, he saw that its position was perfect. Nestling in the sunshine on the edge of the lake, the wooden structure blended with the forest so that at a single glance you might not even notice it. It had been beautifully restored, the work in keeping with the original structure although hardly any of that remained. But the real charm was the wide deck that almost circled the Boathouse, allowing for alfresco eating. The wide deck that wasn’t finished.

He dropped to his haunches and ran his hand over the planks, feeling the grain under his palm and hearing the gentle lap of the water beneath. “He’s using marine grade wood. It’s a nice job. Zach has improved since the days when we built your lodge.”

“You built Heron Lodge? I didn’t know that.”

“The five of us, with the occasional intervention from Gramps.” But never his father.

His father had vanished on one of his many trips and when he’d returned the job had been done. Sean frowned, wondering why of all the memories he’d banked, that was the one to come to mind.

“You three and Zach makes four. Who was the fifth?”

“Brenna.” Sean straightened, pushing away thoughts of his father. “She pretty much did everything we did. I guess she was the little sister we didn’t have. She climbed the same trees we climbed, scraped her knees right along with us and skied down everything we skied down. She and Tyler were inseparable. The two of them were so close it was impossible to find one without the other.”

It seemed ironic to him that the one relationship that wouldn’t have needed sacrifice and compromise had never happened. Tyler and Brenna both shared the same love of Snow Crystal and the land around it. They were both athletic, outdoor types, perfectly matched. Both of them had built a life around lakes and mountains.

There had been a time when they’d all assumed their relationship would naturally progress, but then Janet Carpenter had come along and all that had changed.

And now Tyler had Jess living with him, which narrowed his life choices more than his damaged knee. With a thirteen-year-old daughter, he’d had to give up his party lifestyle.

That had to be the ultimate compromise for love.

“So now that I know you all built Heron Lodge, I need to know if I should be nervous.” Élise finished her coffee. “When I lie in my bed at night, should I worry that the lodge will collapse under me?”

“It’s a sound structure. Tyler tested it out on the first night by kicking a football around the bedroom. We had to replace the window but the rest of it survived.”

Smiling, she took his empty cup from him. “Thank you.”

Distracted by the tiny dimple that appeared at the corner of her mouth, he lost focus. “For what?”

“For cheering me up. And now I need to go home and take a shower and then make those calls to cancel the party. I can’t put it off any longer. Merde—” She ran her fingers through her hair, the sweet smile fading and the dimple disappearing. “I keep hoping for a miracle.”

“Why can’t you just fix another date?”

“Apart from the fact we’ll have to pay cancellation fees to the band that we can’t afford, the date was set months ago. It was my mistake.” Her shoulders drooped and she looked utterly beaten.

His car was parked a few steps away. His keys were in his pocket. His plans didn’t include hanging around Snow Crystal any longer than was necessary. His grandfather had made it clear he didn’t want him here. He’d looked at the test results himself and could see he was making a good recovery.

His brothers seemed to have everything under control. There was nothing to keep him.

Nothing except his conscience and the look on Élise’s face.

Sean tried to move, but his feet were glued to the deck. The part of the deck that was finished. The unfinished part of it glared at him accusingly.

“How is Walter?” Élise smoothed her hair behind her ear, making a visible effort to be cheerful. “Any change overnight?”

“He’s doing well.”

He tried to kill the idea forming in his mind.

No.

“So you’ll be going back to Boston.”

He opened his mouth to tell her the same thing he’d told Jackson. That he had work backing up and patients to see. That he had to take it a day at a time. That this place made him think of his father and he wouldn’t be hanging around a moment longer than was necessary.

“I’ll finish the deck for you.” He couldn’t quite believe he’d said it and clearly she couldn’t either because she stared at him, as if checking the meaning of each word.

“You’ll finish my deck? How? You’re a surgeon, not a carpenter.”

“I’m good with my hands.”

Color streaked across her cheeks. “Is this a game you are playing or is it a serious offer?”

“It’s a serious offer.” He watched her mouth, hoping the dimple would reappear. “Never let it be said that I walk away from a maiden in distress. I have a free weekend. It’s yours if you want it.”

“What’s your price?”

“We’ll negotiate that later. So I assume that’s a yes? You’d like me to do it?”

Suspicion was replaced by joy. “Yes, of course, yes!” She sprang at him and wrapped him in a tight hug that almost cut off his air and his blood supply. “Thank you. Oh, thank you. I will never again shout at you even when you say Snow Crystal isn’t important.”

The scent of her wrapped itself around him, making him dizzy. Her hair was soft and silky against his jaw. “I didn’t say it wasn’t important. Just that you don’t need to have a nervous breakdown about the café opening late.”

“Thanks to you it’s not going to open late now. It’s going to be on time. What about clothes?” She released him. “You cannot work on a deck in your suit.”

“I have a pair of jeans in my car and I’ll borrow everything else from Jackson.”

“Vraiment? You would do that?” She stared at him for a moment as if she couldn’t quite believe what he was saying and then her eyes filled. “Now I think you’re a hero.”

More used to being cast in the role of the bad guy, Sean felt a flash of unease. “Élise—”

“Zach’s tools are locked inside.” She smiled and the dimple peeped from the corner of her mouth. “I’ll show you where. Then I need to take a shower and call Kayla to stop her canceling the party. She will be so happy. So will Jackson. It is very kind of you, I think.”

Sean dragged his mind and his eyes from Élise’s lips. He wasn’t sure what his motivation was, but he was fairly confident kindness hadn’t played any part in his decision making. “No problem.”

CHAPTER FIVE

TWENTY-FOUR HOURS later Élise stood on the deck of the café and wondered why it hadn’t occurred to her that accepting Sean’s offer of help would mean he’d be working here, under her nose.

Why was she so impulsive?

Why did she never think anything through?

After her daily run around the lake, she’d spent the morning in the restaurant, working lunchtime service, discussing menus, meeting with her team. She’d met with two new local suppliers and interviewed a kitchen assistant. And if all that conspired to keep her away from the Boathouse, she told herself it was coincidence, nothing more. It was everything to do with pressure of work and nothing to do with the fact that Sean was working on her deck. And she told herself that pressure of work was also the reason she hadn’t responded to frequent text updates from her new sous-chef, Poppy.

Hi boss, the view from the Boathouse is better than ever today.

And five minutes later.

It’s scorchin’ hot over here J

And now she was back at the Boathouse and could see it for herself.

Concentrating was impossible.

“What is it about a guy using power tools?” Poppy grinned as she balanced a stack of boxes in her arms on the way to the kitchen. “I just look at him and want him to nail me to the deck. He is insanely good-looking. I’m taking my lunch break outside today, Chef.”

Élise gritted her teeth. “Did everything arrive?”

“One chair was damaged but they’re replacing it. Oh, dear God, he’s taken his shirt off. How does a man with an indoor job get muscles like that?” Eyeing Sean, Poppy almost dropped the boxes. “Sorry, but honestly you just have to look.”

“I don’t have time to look! We are snowed under with things to do before the party next weekend. Poppy—” Sensing she was losing her audience again, Élise sharpened her voice. “Focus!”

“Yes, Chef. Sorry.” Poppy dragged her gaze from the deck to Élise. “I’m going to get these unpacked. I’m on it.”

“Good!” Exasperated, she watched as Poppy wound her way through the newly arranged tables, bumping into at least two as she stole a final look at Sean.

Teeth clenched, Élise walked to the kitchen, grabbed a glass and jug of lemonade from the fridge and strode out onto the deck to see for herself what all the fuss was about.

Sean was doing something to a plank of wood. Something that required him to stretch forward, displaying his torso. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw all the female staff lined up in the doorway.

Catching her eye, they grinned and slunk back to their jobs.

“Sean!” Torn between exasperation and irritation, Élise thumped the jug of lemonade down on the table next to him.

He glanced up and rocked back on his heels, his smile slow and sure. “Is that for me? You’re a lifesaver.” Putting down the plank of wood, he stood up and took the glass from her.

She watched as he drank. Sweat glistened on his forehead and his wide shoulders. It reminded her of that night in the forest. She’d ripped at his clothes. He’d ripped at hers.

Thinking about it raised her temperature another notch and she gritted her teeth. “You need to put your shirt back on.”

Raising his eyebrows, he lowered the glass slowly. “I beg your pardon?”

“Your shirt. You need to put it back on.”

Blue eyes held hers.

Heat built inside her. Her insides melted.

“Care to tell me why?” His voice was soft and suddenly she wished she’d just let her staff carry on falling over tables. What were a few bruises compared to the effects of standing this close to Sean?

“You are distracting my workforce.”

He glanced over her shoulder. “They seem to be working pretty hard to me.”

“Now. But two minutes ago they were all staring at you. They can’t concentrate while you’re working out here half-naked.”

“It’s a hot day and I’m doing manual labor.” He drained the glass and ran his hand over his mouth.

“That’s why I brought you a cold drink. Are you done?” Everything about him was physical. Sexual.

“Why? Are you having trouble concentrating, too?”

“No.” Why hadn’t she sent Poppy out with the iced lemonade? “I couldn’t care less if you’re totally naked on my deck, but I have a deadline to meet and I can’t have my staff distracted. Let me know if you need anything else.” She took the glass from him and was about to walk away when his fingers closed around her wrist and he pulled her back to him.

Caught off guard, she lost her balance and fell against him. She put her free hand on his chest to steady herself, met his eyes and almost drowned in a flash of intense blue, heat and raw desire.

“Sean—”

“You asked me to let you know if there’s anything else I need.”

“I didn’t mean—” She couldn’t breathe properly. The attraction was so shockingly powerful it almost knocked her off her feet. “You promised you’d finish the deck.”

“You’ll get your damn deck.” His voice was rough. “You think about it, don’t you?”

“What?”

“You know what.” His eyes were on her mouth. “Last summer. Us.”

All the time. “Rarely.”

He smiled. “Yeah, right.”

“Arrogance isn’t attractive.”

“Neither is pigheadedness. Want me to remind you what happened? Who cracked first last time?”

Her heart was pounding. “I didn’t crack.”

“Honey, half of that shirt I was wearing is still lying somewhere in the forest. We never did find it. Maybe next time we shouldn’t let it build up.”

“It’s not building up. I make that sort of decision with my head, not my hormones.”

“Really?” His eyes were back on her mouth. “In that case your head was in one hell of a hurry to get me naked.”

“Having made the decision, I didn’t see the point in hanging around.”

“A decision I supported wholeheartedly. And would again.”

The heat was intense. Suffocating.

There were people working around her, members of her team, no doubt trying to lip-read and probably reading too much into the fact that their boss was currently up close and very personal with the dangerously attractive Sean O’Neil.

“More than one night with the same woman, Sean? That doesn’t sound like you. You should be running.”

“Normally I would be.” His mouth curved into a sinfully sexy smile. “But you don’t want a relationship any more than I do, which makes you my perfect woman.” The words managed to snap the spell in a way that her fading willpower hadn’t.

“I’m not anyone’s perfect woman, Sean.”

She wasn’t the person he thought she was. She was deeply damaged, with secrets even Jackson didn’t know. She’d put herself back together, piece by piece, and now she protected herself carefully.

Aware that her staff were probably watching and speculating, she extracted her wrist from his grip.

“Put the shirt on. That way there will be something to rip off should I ever decide to go down that route again.”

TWO DAYS LATER, Sean drove Walter home from the hospital. His grandfather clutched the car seat and stared straight ahead.

“This car should be on a racetrack.”

Sean drove gently, nursing the Porsche around the bends so that his grandfather didn’t even shift in his seat. The car purred like a tame lion. “It’s engineering perfection. There is no such thing as a bad day when you’re driving this.”

His grandfather grunted. “You could have bought a Corvette.”

“I didn’t want a Corvette.”

“It doesn’t even have cupholders.”

Sean tried to imagine what would happen to a cup of coffee as he accelerated away and waltzed around corners. “But it does have a super sharp throttle response. You can’t drive this car and not smile. If you ever want to give it a try, let me know.”

“If I want to kill myself I’ll just stand in the middle of the road.”

Sean slowed down as he took a right and drove past the sign for Snow Crystal Resort and Spa.