A call went up from the front. “Yvonne!”
“I’m needed,” Yvonne said in a dignified voice. She left to the sound of her aunt’s hoots of amusement.
Yvonne kept busy with making coffee while her assistant took orders and cleared tables. In the bookstore section, customers browsed the shelves and the cash register pinged its happy song every time the assistant rang up an order. Business was booming since the reality show. Clare seemed to have hit the tourist map big time.
The doorbell announced a new arrival, and Yvonne glanced up. She fumbled the jug of hot milk she was heating and burned her hand. “Damn.”
Yvonne turned to grab a can of cold soft drink and held it to her smarting skin while she spied on Elizabeth Penrith. The woman waved at her circle of friends—the same ones who’d whispered and witnessed the earlier kiss—before stalking to the counter to place her order. Why the devil had they started coming toGina’s Books, anyway?
Yvonne surveyed the pinked skin and decided she’d live. She went back to building her order of coffees. Low murmurs floated to her, but she firmly ignored her impulse to lift her head and glare. If she shrugged off gossip, people would soon tire of her and move on to the next juicy tidbit. As Gina said, they were spoiled for choice.
“Good morning, Yvonne,” a cool voice said.
Yvonne’s hand slipped again and hot milk sloshed on the back of her hand. “Bloody hell,” she muttered, letting the cup go. It wobbled, and in slow motion, toppled to the floor.Damn and blast.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you,” Elizabeth said.
“Good morning, Mrs. Penrith,” Yvonne said, and hoped her bared teeth bore a resemblance to a polite smile.
“Please call me Elizabeth. I’ll let you get on. I can see you’re busy.” The woman’s grim countenance lightened and the corners of her mouth lifted. She gave a nod and trotted away to join her friends.
Yvonne stared, and aware of the renewed whispers, started picking up the larger pieces of broken china.
Gina appeared seconds later, gave the floor a swift look and made a clucking sound. “I’ll get a mop,” she said, and retreated to the kitchen.
Later that night, Nolan rushed through the door, bringing with him the cool of a rainy night. Yvonne raised her head for his kiss, recoiled at the touch of icy lips.
“You should have stayed at home. It’s miserable outside.”
She took his coat, shook off the worst of the rain before hanging it up on the empty hook next to her boys’ jackets. Should she tell him about his mother’s weird behavior?
“This is home for me, Yvonne.” His gaze was steady on hers as he said the words, his sincerity blazing through. “When I think of home, you and the boys are the first things that come to mind.”
“Oh, Nolan.” His words undid her, tore away the makeshift patches on her heart. With two quick strides, she reached him and flung her arms around his neck. Like a monkey, she clung to his large body, uncaring now of the chill.
“Let’s go to bed,” he whispered against her lips.
“It’s early.”
“Who said anything about sleeping? We’ll warm up.”
A gurgle burst from Yvonne. Tinged with happiness, it surprised her, shocked her since she couldn’t recall the last time she’d made that saucy sound of compliance. Nolan swept her into his arms and headed for her bedroom. He shut the door with his hip and deposited her on the bed. He followed her down, caging her in his arms, taking possession of her mouth. Hunger exploded between them—hot and molten, urgent.
She flicked her tongue against his, the move provocative and earning her a sensual growl.
“Wait. I’d better lock the door. Do you want me to check on the boys first?” He punctuated his words with a slow hip swivel. The throbbing hardness of him scored her belly, and instinctively, she wriggled until they notched together in perfect alignment.
“I’ll go.” Yet she didn’t move, couldn’t move when her heart ached with fullness.
He lifted away, his grin one of masculine satisfaction. “I’d like to see the boys. They look angelic when they’re asleep and recharging.”
“Nolan,” she whispered so softly she knew he wouldn’t hear. She rolled over to her side, hugging herself in an effort to contain her joy. In little ways, he’d edged into her life—some might compare it to an insidious disease. His methods contained that sort of silent creep. Despite her or in spite of her, he’d grown roots here and wrapped them around her heart, around her sons until they’d all started to accept him, to miss him when work kept him absent.
She’d cleared a hook for him on the coat rack.
Nolan had transformed this house—her and her sons—into a home. The final barrier around her heart let go with an inaudible whoosh. It allowed a sliver of fear through to nip at her happiness. She wanted to tell Nolan she loved him, but he hadn’t said the words either, and she couldn’t help remembering her husband, contrasting the two.
Her husband had professed his love. He’d told her they’d have a happy life, forever.
