Книга - Table for Two

Table for Two
Jennifer McKenzie


Does she dare have seconds? Mallory Ford hasn't seen her ex, Travis Kincaid, since she caught him in a rather compromising position a year ago. Now he's back in town, and while heat still flickers along Mal's skin when he's near, she's already learned her lesson–the oh-so-hard way.Except that Travis is playing to win Mal's heart, for good. Which is perfectly ridiculous. Nothing can put Mal's heart back together again, especially not the man who broke it. Some mistakes can't be erased…unless Travis can prove to Mal that what they have is too perfect to forget.







Does she dare have seconds?

Mallory Ford hasn’t seen her ex, Travis Kincaid, since she caught him in a rather compromising position a year ago. Now he’s back in town, and while heat still flickers along Mal’s skin when he’s near, she’s already learned her lesson—the oh-so-hard way.

Except that Travis is playing to win Mal’s heart, for good. Which is perfectly ridiculous. Nothing can put Mal’s heart back together again, especially not the man who broke it. Some mistakes can’t be erased...unless Travis can prove to Mal that what they have is too perfect to forget.


“I’m here for you, Mal.”

Travis didn’t wait for her response, but stepped inside, swung the door shut behind him and kissed her in one smooth move. She couldn’t think, overwhelmed by feelings and emotions and Travis.

Always Travis.

She melted against him, into him. It had been so long. Incredibly long.

Mal had known before he’d kissed her that it would lead to this. She’d never have let him up to her apartment if she hadn’t been willing to go there. Hadn’t wanted to go there.

Oh, yes.

It would only be for tonight. Closure, a last goodbye, whatever she might decide to call it in the cold light of day.

Because tomorrow morning, she would be 100 percent, completely over this.


Dear Reader (#ulink_41526119-0c61-5735-b5b6-95d8ccbfa3ca),

As I close the books on the Ford family, I’m reminded of my own family. The teasing, the laughter, the fight on top of the old rolling dishwasher that broke the kitchen door...

Mallory and Travis have a long history together. One that hasn’t gone away even though they’ve been living miles apart. But they’re back in the same city now and history seems to be repeating itself.

I’ve had a wonderful time sharing the stories of these three siblings, their lives and loves, and while I’m wistful about saying goodbye to them, mainly I feel happy that everyone (in their own unique way) got their happily-ever-after.

I hope you enjoyed your time with the Ford family.

Happy reading,

Jennifer McKenzie


Table for Two

Jennifer McKenzie






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


JENNIFER MCKENZIE lives in Vancouver, Canada, where it rains. A lot. Which means she gets to purchase many pairs of cute boots without guilt. She spends her days writing emails, text messages, newsletters and books. When she’s not writing, she’s reading or eating chocolate and trying to convince her husband that it’s a health food. He has yet to fall for it. Visit her on the web at jennifermckenzie.com (http://www.jennifermckenzie.com).


This book is for Clark who makes me laugh (even when he’s wearing his grumpy face. Okay...especially when he’s wearing his grumpy face), cheers me on, cheers me up and is basically awesome.


Contents

Cover (#u5b11288c-538c-5797-ba80-2137640ea0de)

Back Cover Text (#u9bbc859d-a238-5483-9f21-aace3060840d)

Introduction (#uc1062e94-fe17-5c45-a7a9-59e5e46c6799)

Dear Reader (#uaa8ed68e-f858-5a14-9c87-00a68c262c0d)

Title Page (#u61ae2b50-7e93-5a36-886d-ebdcc5d882c0)

About the Author (#u0f4075f3-ec35-5e71-92de-1585f5f564d6)

Dedication (#u32e6bb18-fd2b-5060-9bb8-08fe7b3c4031)

CHAPTER ONE (#uc88e9690-b654-5311-aba1-0ac313610978)

CHAPTER TWO (#u4e1b631f-5165-58cc-98c4-7fd5629f9a15)

CHAPTER THREE (#u7484c3ee-c9b7-5a41-9a8b-3abaeaaaa611)

CHAPTER FOUR (#u81f9a822-0228-53c4-9914-275316529ae3)

CHAPTER FIVE (#u674445c9-1ce6-59b2-aded-325fbfe3967d)

CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_ffa70157-4fc0-5eda-915e-7cf365493c87)

THE LAST TIME Mallory Ford had seen Travis Kincaid he’d had his face buried in another woman’s lap. That woman hadn’t been wearing panties.

Normally Mal wouldn’t have felt anything except embarrassment and foolishness for not knocking first. But Travis had been in his office with the door unlocked and they’d broken up only an hour earlier. Her overriding emotion had, therefore, been anger. And although that had been more than a year ago, she still hadn’t forgiven him. She didn’t know a person who would have.

Seeing him now, that same anger roiled up in her and made her want to dash the contents of her wineglass in his face and cut him down with some pithy commentary. The only thing that held her back was the fact that they were at her brother Owen’s backyard wedding reception. That and the fact that she was too couth to lower herself to name calling and wine tossing. She hoped.

He looked good in his white shirt and pants. All the guests were wearing white, but Travis looked especially healthy, his tan a direct contrast to the pale clothing. Living in Aruba had clearly suited him. Mal fiddled with the hem of her own white dress—a lacy fitted number with long sleeves and a high neck—and turned away.

She’d known Travis would be in attendance, seeing as he was best friends with Owen, but that didn’t mean she had to talk to him. Instead, she crossed the small patio to the side opposite Travis and joined a conversation with some old family friends she hadn’t seen in a while.

The wedding and reception were about a quarter of the size of her oldest brother Donovan’s wedding, which had happened in January, but the less formal event suited Owen and his new bride, Grace. Her parents owned the gorgeous farm they were on now. The ceremony had been out beside a small pond while the sun set and the reception was in their backyard, which felt as luxurious and stylish as anything in the city. The forest of trees behind them, the overhead heaters and the lights strung around the space created a magical environment. It helped that Grace was a professional wedding planner and her team had taken over all the decor.

The space felt warm and cozy. Welcoming. And it gave Mal the chance to chat with some of the people she’d missed at Donovan’s nuptials.

That was until Owen came and dragged her away.

“Owen.” She stumbled over a root as he sped up. “What are you doing? I was talking to those people.”

“It’s my wedding. I’m allowed to steal you.” But he did slow his stride enough that she was no longer worried about breaking an ankle.

Mal glanced up from her feet, and immediately wished she hadn’t. Owen was on a mission. With her. One that was leading straight toward Travis Kincaid.

She sucked in a breath and dug her nails into her brother’s arm. No. No way.

Travis looked over at her, his expression a mixture of nerves and yearning. And hunger. Mal felt a shiver work its way over her body. She remembered that hunger, how it overwhelmed and devoured. How much she used to love it. She stopped walking.

Owen looked down at her. “I’d like to see the two of you talk.”

Mal swallowed and shook her head. She didn’t want to talk to him. But when she tried to take a step back, to return to the safety of her earlier conversation and location, Owen gave her a small nudge.

“You can do whatever you want after, but talk now.”

Mal stared at him. How could he do this to her? He knew things were over between her and Travis. Granted, he didn’t know all the details because she’d never told anyone. She’d been too embarrassed at first and then she’d just wanted to forget everything. And, okay, she’d sent Owen to see Travis when he’d needed a friend, but that didn’t mean she was fine with Travis, that she was ready for a nice little chat and all was forgiven.

Owen’s expression softened, turned imploring. “Consider it my wedding gift.”

“I already bought you something.” A set of matching leather luggage packed with monogrammed robes and a trip to a weekend spa getaway in Napa Valley. Owen and Grace both worked long hours and Mal knew this was one way to ensure they’d take a few days for themselves when they needed it.

Owen put his hand over hers. “I’d rather have this. For both of you.” He started walking again.

Mal was forced to walk with him or end up being dragged behind him. Not exactly the elegant and cool image she wanted to project. But she didn’t feel cool at all. Not even the breezy spring evening helped. She felt the beads of sweat forming on her spine as they took the last few steps to come to a stop in front of Travis.

He reached up to loosen his collar. But his clear display of nerves didn’t lessen her own or make her feel any better. Mal swallowed and blinked when Owen let go of her hand and started to walk away.

“Where are you going?” she called after him.

“I’ve got a date,” he called back. “With my wife.” Mal watched him cross the yard to where his lovely wife stood with a group of friends. He took hold of her hand and led her around the side of the house, out of sight.

Mal watched for a moment longer, waiting to see if Owen would reappear, this time with Grace to add a little social lubrication to ease the awkward situation he’d placed her in—but he didn’t. She wanted to turn and walk away, too, to go anywhere, talk to anyone else, but good manners and her well-developed sense of pride compelled her to stay where she was.

“Travis.” Even saying his name hurt.

“Hello, Mal.” His voice was the same, that low blend of heat and roughness. It threatened to take her out at the knees. She locked them, determined to keep them firm beneath her. “Nice night.”

She stared at him. Was that all he had to say? This was what Owen had dragged her over to hear? She nodded and waited.

“It’s good to see you.”

She didn’t respond in kind—because it wasn’t good to see him. She felt naked, exposed, as if everything she was thinking or feeling was bared for anyone to see. And none of it was anything she felt comfortable sharing. “Right. Well, if you’ll excuse me.” She moved to go, to leave and never return.

His voice stopped her. “Mal.”

She closed her eyes and sucked in a deep breath of woods and earth. She didn’t want to do this. Not even a little. She turned back and looked at him. “What do you want, Travis?” She saw no need to play coy or to act like things were anything other than they were.

“Just to talk.” He took a step toward her, closing the distance between them. Distance that Mal liked right where it was.

She wrapped her arms around her body. “I don’t think there’s anything to say.” Not on her end, at least. She’d said what she needed to over a year ago.

He ran a hand through his dark hair, a familiar gesture. He was upset and anxious. Well, too bad. So was she and she hadn’t done anything wrong. “Will you at least let me apologize?”

“Why?” She steeled herself against the sorrow in his gray eyes—he’d brought it all on himself. “Why now? And why bother?” He’d had plenty of time to make amends, to atone. Instead, he’d left her alone—radio silence.

“Because I want to.”

Because he wanted to? What about what she wanted? To be left alone to live her life without the painful memories that seeing him brought. She gave her head an airy toss. “I’m over it, Travis. You don’t need to apologize.” She held her body tight, her arms close, careful to let no part of her even hint at touching him.

But he didn’t back off. “Mal, I know things ended badly.”

She did not want to talk about this. Not at her brother’s wedding reception. Not ever, in fact. “Travis, there’s nothing to talk about.”

In her mind, there wasn’t. She’d needed to stay in Vancouver and help out the family after her father’s heart attack—Travis had stayed in Aruba. They’d been living six thousand miles apart and there’d been no sign of their situation changing. Still, they’d tried. For a good four months they’d tried. They’d talked on the phone, texted, sent emails and connected through video chat via computer. But their lives seemed to be heading down different paths, and with no simple solution, the answer had seemed obvious. To end the relationship.

She’d flown down to tell him in person, feeling as though their relationship deserved that much, hoping things could end amicably as he was close with Owen. But he’d shot down that hope. He pinned the fault on her, calling it a choice, acting as if she’d chosen her family over him, which wasn’t the case. She wanted to be together, but her family needed her at that time and Travis wouldn’t give up the bistro in Aruba. In her mind, he was the one who’d said no to a future together. And had confirmed it by burying his face in another woman’s lap.

“If that were true—” his gaze was hot “—then you wouldn’t have spent the majority of this evening avoiding me.”

“I’m not avoiding. I’m one of the hosts. I have guests to greet, mingling to do.” Her chest felt tight, her cheeks hot.

“I’m moving back.”

What? Okay, fine. Did he want a parade? “Congratulations.”

“Aren’t you going to ask why?” He cocked his head, that charming grin that used to make her weak in the knees playing around his lips. She hated to acknowledge that it still made her knees wobble slightly.

She locked them tight. “I’m sure it doesn’t matter to me.” Because they weren’t together and whatever city Travis decided to call home had no effect on her life.

“My gram.”

Those might have been the only two words in the English language to stop Mal from simply turning on her heel and exiting the conversation. She loved his grandma. Mildred Dawes was small and gray and, as she liked to claim, “full of beans.” Her love of life and family touched Mal in a way she hadn’t known before meeting the woman.

Mal swallowed the angry words, the hurt feelings, and looked at Travis. “Is she okay?”

Mildred was just one of the many things Mal had lost when she and Travis had gone their separate ways. Mal didn’t remember any of her grandparents. Two had died before she was born, the others when she’d still been too young to form full sentences, but Mildred had acted as a pseudo grandparent, instilling common sense and down-home wisdom whenever she thought it necessary. And, according to Mildred, it was often necessary.

Travis smiled. “She’s fine now. She had a little scare with her lungs that turned into pneumonia, but she’s recovered. It’ll take more than that to keep her down.”

Mal reached out without thinking and put her hand on Travis’s arm. The heat seared her palm and she jerked it back. “I hadn’t heard. I...I’m glad she’s okay.”

“Me, too.” He smiled. “It sort of brought home the truth about what I was doing with my own life.”

She didn’t want to know. She’d given up her right to curiosity about Travis’s life when she’d walked out of his office and never looked back. “And what was that?” She curled her fingers into her palms.

“I thought I needed the business, but it’s not worth much without the people you love.”

Her nails bit into flesh even as she told herself he wasn’t referring to her. Even if he was, it was too late.

“I sold the bistro.”

“What?” She blinked, glad she’d already locked her knees as it prevented her from reeling.

They’d opened the gorgeous beachside restaurant in Aruba together. Had planned to work there for a few years, watch it grow and enjoy the Caribbean lifestyle. And then her father had had a heart attack and Mal had been needed at home. When she’d explained to Travis, she’d thought he understood. Her family needed her. She had to go back. But he hadn’t. Apparently he’d thought the business and his life on the beach were more important. Before she’d even gotten on the flight to go back home, he’d been consoling himself with another woman.

“I had some interest from buyers. Once things happened with my gram...” Travis shrugged. “I decided to take them up on it.” His eyes caught hers, held. “I’ve missed you, Mal.”

She swallowed, tried to breathe in some clarity and muttered, “Can’t have missed me that much.” Seeing as he’d never once contacted her since she left Aruba.

“I did.” He reached for her hand. “I was just too stubborn to admit it.”

She pulled her hand back. “Well, now I’m too stubborn to believe you.”

He studied her for a moment, a smile spreading across his face. “I’ve really missed you.”

Had he really? She looked at him, risked staring deep into those dark eyes she knew so well—had looked into so many times before. What she saw there scared her. Not the fallacy of a glib tongue or polite conversation. But naked honesty. Yet she just couldn’t. She wasn’t that Mal anymore. Couldn’t be. “It’s been too long, Travis.”

“Has it?”

Mal didn’t know what to say to that. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She knew what she should say, what her head told her to say, but there was that little matter of her heart. So she kept her silence, managing only a quick nod.

“Mal.”

She shook her head so violently that she felt it in her temples. “No, Travis. I don’t want to talk here.”

“Then let’s go somewhere else.”

Mal shot him a look. “It’s Owen’s wedding. I’m not leaving.”

But she should have known that wouldn’t be enough. Travis had grown up in a small paper-mill town, a rough and tumble place where he’d learned to push for what he wanted and fight when necessary. Polite platitudes and dressed-up words wouldn’t put him off.

“Then we’ll talk later. After the reception. You tell me a good time and I’ll make it happen.” He took a step toward her. “Midnight. Six in the morning. Three days from now. I don’t care. I’ll be available.”

“Travis.” She didn’t finish. He didn’t give her the chance.

“I’m only asking for one conversation. Just one and then you’ll never have to talk to me again.”

The old Mal would have agreed. Would have heard him out. But the old Mal had been burned by this man and she shied away from allowing it to happen a second time. “I should go. Say hello to the other guests.”

She walked away before he could say anything else. She couldn’t listen to it, not now. And with each footfall, the surprise and shock of Travis’s homecoming turned to something she could hang on to. Something sharp and hot and angry.

Mal headed around the house, following the same path Owen had earlier. Seriously, if it wasn’t his wedding she’d have had to kill him. In fact, she might have to do it anyway. Grace would understand. There were certain behaviors that were just not okay. Forcing your sister into a chat with her ex ranked right up there.

“What were you thinking, Owen?” She didn’t care that she was interrupting him making out with Grace. They should be out mingling with the crowd, anyway.

“Busy here, Mal,” Owen said, his eyes still on Grace. But then that was nothing new. When Grace was in the vicinity, Owen’s eyes tracked her. Even now, when she was pressed up against the side of the house with nowhere to go and his arms around her, Owen’s gaze shifted when Grace did. Mal pretended she didn’t remember that Travis had once been the same around her.

“Yes, I can see that. But I’d like you to explain why you dragged me into a conversation with Travis.” Even now, Mal could feel the flush of embarrassment warm her cheeks. She was glad the reception was outdoors, and although it had been an unseasonably warm March, it was hardly summer weather.

“Looks like you survived.” He stroked a finger down Grace’s cheek.

Grace caught his hand and turned her attention to Mal. “What did he do now?”

“Now?” Owen feigned shock. “You act like this is a common occurrence.” He cupped Grace’s face this time and she kissed him.

As Mal watched, her brother’s entire body softened. A flicker of jealousy rose, but she slapped it down quickly. She wasn’t jealous of her brother, not either of them, although they’d both gotten married within the past few months while she, the only one who’d even been in a serious relationship eighteen months ago, was flying solo. But she missed having someone. The companionship, the love, the sex. She pushed that flicker away, too.

“It was bad enough that he dragged me over, but it was the ditching me with him and coming here to make out. Did you really think that through, Owen?”

“So, things didn’t go well?” Owen pulled his gaze away from his bride long enough to frown. “I thought you were okay with the fact that I’m still friends with him.”

She was. She totally was. Hadn’t she sent him off to visit Travis when he’d been in need of a friend and denying his feelings for Grace? “Your being friends with him doesn’t mean I am.” Could he not understand that?

Grace was giving her husband the same look Mal was. “Owen.”

Owen turned back to her. “He misses her.”

Mal felt a jolt rock her. She locked her knees again. Collapsing against the house in front of her brother and new sister-in-law would be as bad as falling prone in front of Travis. Well, almost as bad. “He doesn’t miss me.”

And even if he did, it didn’t matter, didn’t change anything. They were still broken up. She was still mad. And she’d still found him with his face buried between another woman’s thighs.

“Did you even talk to him?” Owen was twirling the ends of Grace’s hair through his fingers and the two of them were making googly eyes, which was to be expected, Mal supposed, considering it was their wedding day.

She swallowed. She should respect that this was a special day for them, a special day for her, too, since they were adding another wonderful woman to the family. No one needed to listen to her whine about Travis. Certainly not the bride and groom. “You know what? How about we just agree that you won’t do it again and I’ll leave you two to get back to your...” She waved a hand to encompass whatever they might get up to and then began walking away.

“Mal,” Grace called to her over Owen’s shoulder.

Mal turned around slowly. She really didn’t want to get an eyeful of whatever Owen might be doing to Grace. “Yes?”

“Do you need us to come with you?” She elbowed Owen when he let out a groan. “You started this. We aren’t going to let your sister go back out there alone if she needs support.”

“I’m fine.” Now she just felt foolish for having brought it up in the first place. Time and place. Neither of which were here and now. “You stay and enjoy yourselves. I’ll be okay. Really.” She even gave a brief nod to fully reassure them that she could handle herself and would not be in need of assistance. That would be assuming Travis kept his distance.

Too bad she couldn’t get any reassurance about that.

* * *

TRAVIS WATCHED THE side of the house where Mal had disappeared. He made himself stay where he was rather than chase after her, even though it nearly killed him. He’d known he missed her, but actually seeing her in person, being close enough to touch, brought it all home. He’d been a fool to let her go. Yes, she’d caught him off guard when she’d suddenly sprung the news that she wasn’t coming back to Aruba, but he’d handled it poorly.

He could see now that, in her shoes, he’d have done the same thing. In fact, was doing so now, coming back to be closer to his grandma and his family. Closer to Mal.

She was thinner than she used to be. She didn’t fill out her dress the way she would have a year ago, but she still looked better in person than in his imagination. Her hair was longer, the dark locks falling halfway down her back. It suited her, filed away some of those hard businesswoman edges. And her eyes were the same deep brown; he remembered the way they’d darken when she looked at him, widen as she reached for him to touch or tease, to press a kiss to his cheek or shoulder. Damn, he missed those days. He wanted them back.

Maybe he should go after her. She’d disappeared around the side of the house, but there weren’t that many places she could go. Not in those pale blue high heels that looked as if they could pierce a man’s heart with one good stomp.

Instead, he gripped the bottle of water he held more tightly and told himself that he had time. He was back now. For good. He didn’t need to rush things. He would take his time, show her that he meant what he said and then he’d slowly win her over. That was the plan. It was his only plan.

What he wouldn’t give for a cold beer right now. But he hadn’t had a drink in a year. Not since that night that Mal had walked in on him and another woman. It shamed him that he couldn’t even remember the woman’s name. She’d been a tourist, on the island for a vacation and looking for a little no-strings hookup that wouldn’t follow her when she returned home. He’d been looking to lose himself. And he had, right up until the door to his office had opened and Mal had walked in to find him with his head up the other woman’s skirt.

He’d regretted it then, regretted it more now. If only he hadn’t let Mal walk away, hadn’t grabbed a bottle of whiskey and drunk until he could no longer taste, hadn’t let himself believe that he could forget about her by filling the space with someone else.

Travis took a swig from the bottle, letting the cool water wash away the layer of bitterness coating his tongue. What happened was in the past and he couldn’t go back and undo it, but he could try to make amends. Of course, that awkward conversation mere minutes ago probably wasn’t how best to go about it.

Crazy. He’d not only spent the flight from Aruba and ferry ride from Vancouver to Salt Spring Island considering and planning what he’d say when he saw Mal, he’d also thought about it for many months prior. Hand hovering over the phone or Send button on his email without doing anything. He’d had the conversation a million times in his head and heart. And still he’d choked when the moment arrived.

Travis took another sip of water and rolled his shoulders. He’d just have to try again.

But when she came out from the side of the house she was clearly on a mission that nothing and no one was going to interrupt. He knew that look, that strut. He enjoyed the sway of her hips as she moved across the patio and went through the back door, entering the house.

“Ahem.”

Travis blinked and looked straight into the eyes of his best friend, the recent groom. “Ahem yourself.” Then he clapped Owen on the back.

“You blew it,” Owen told him, but he was grinning. “Pissed her right off.”

“I didn’t mean to.” Travis’s eyes darted back toward the door. But Mal didn’t reappear. “How pissed was she?”

“Enough.” Owen exhaled with the easy breath of a man who knew that his night would be spent in the arms of a loving woman. Travis tried not to be jealous. It had already been a year. What was one more night?

“Where’s Grace?”

“She’s gone to check on Mal.” Owen nicked a skewer from a passing server and popped it into his mouth.

“They’re friends?”

Owen nodded and finished chewing. “Yes, but don’t ask her to get involved. You messed things up with Mal and you can fix them yourself.”

“And here I thought you’d be eager to stick your nose in your sister’s love life.”

“I am. I said you couldn’t ask Grace, but I am amenable to being convinced. So go ahead, ask me to get involved.”

Travis laughed. “Like I could keep you out of it.”

“Well, I am a bit of an expert. I got Donovan and his wife back together when my brother screwed everything up.” Owen sipped from his own bottle of water. His expression grew serious. “Listen, I love my little sister and I want her to be happy. She hasn’t been happy since you broke up, so...” He trailed off with a shrug.

“I’ll be honest, Owen. Things aren’t off to a good start.” Even rocky didn’t cover it.

“Yeah, I caught that much. But if she didn’t care, she wouldn’t be mad.”

Travis had picked up on that, too. Still it was good to hear from someone else. “I just need to get her to talk to me.” Of course, that was easier said than done when she was slippery as an eel. “Any advice?”

Owen tilted his head, seeming to think about it. Then he shrugged again. “Put your head between your legs and kiss your ass goodbye?”

“Wow. You should charge for that insight. Brilliant.”

Owen laughed. “Good to have you back, buddy.”

Travis smiled, too. It was good to be back. Even if he was pretty sure Mal was going to do her best to avoid the conversation they clearly needed to have.


CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_47129043-27de-5bc0-bdfd-89ffa75aa22e)

RIDICULOUS. COMPLETELY RIDICULOUS.

Mal shook off the warm, caramel-y feeling that tried to melt the icy guard she’d placed around her heart. Travis hadn’t missed her. Not really. No matter what he or Owen or anyone said.

She splashed some cold water on the back of her neck and stared at herself in the bathroom mirror. She looked tired. She was tired. But this was Owen and Grace’s wedding and there was no time for a pity party of any sort.

She splashed a little more water. Her eyes tracked her hands, noticed the bareness of her fingers and not just because she was the only Ford child currently without a ring of commitment, but because seeing Travis reminded her that, not so long ago, she’d been the only one to have that symbol of a relationship.

Her stomach jittered and she pressed a hand to it, trying to take some slow deep breaths as she’d learned in Pilates. But the bliss of Zen never came. Maybe because Zen was more of a yoga thing.

Mal’s eyes strayed to her bare finger again. She should have brought the ring with her. She’d known Travis would be in attendance. She should have placed it in her luggage, transported it here in her purse and then taken a quiet moment alone with Travis to return it to him.

The ring was his grandma’s. A pretty, square-cut sapphire surrounded by diamond chips. Mal had been so thrilled when he’d given it to her. It hadn’t been an engagement ring, not in the traditional sense, as they’d been too busy putting all their time and money, all their energy into the beachfront bistro in Aruba. But they’d talked about having a wedding once they were settled. Flying in their families and getting married with their toes in the sand and a starry moonlit night overhead, an ocean breeze blowing through the palm trees.

A ghost of a smile crossed Mal’s lips before disappearing, much the way her dreams had. She needed to return the ring. Not just to Travis but to Mildred. It had been wrong of her to keep it as long as she had, sitting in her jewelry box so she looked at it every morning when she chose her accoutrements for the day.

She dried the water from her neck, pressed cold fingers under her eyes and, after a few deep breaths and a good roll of the shoulders, decided to head back out. She couldn’t stay in the house forever. It might not be her wedding, but people would be looking for her. And it would be good to have something else to focus on, such as small talk and chatter about the family business—a string of wine bars, one fine dining restaurant and their recent expansion into the gastropub market with a single location. She would also be happy to talk about the charity event she was organizing to raise money for local food banks.

Mal made her way through the lovely farmhouse and out the door to the backyard. The party, though small, was still going strong. She glanced around for a group to join. She didn’t care which one, so long as it didn’t include Travis or her brother.

“Mallory.” Her mother, Evelyn, swooped in like some kind of avenging angel or mother of the groom, as she was, and wrapped her in a tight hug. “I’ve barely seen you tonight.”

“You saw me before the ceremony and sat with me during the ceremony. I’ve been around.” When she hadn’t been doing her best to avoid a certain someone. But really, aside from her quick chat with Owen and Grace around the side of the house and her short break to cool her nerves, she’d been in the backyard with everyone else. She’d tasted the food. She’d toasted with champagne. She’d mingled.

“You look tired.” Her mother zeroed in with the laser focus that she had for all her kids and brushed back a lock of Mal’s hair. “Are you getting enough sleep?”

“I’m fine, Mom, and I’m getting plenty of sleep.” And on those nights when she wasn’t, she worked, so it wasn’t as though she tossed and turned or lay on her back staring at the ceiling, contemplating sheep jumping a fence.

“You need to take care of yourself.” Evelyn brushed back the lock of hair again. Like all guests at the wedding, Evelyn wore pristine white. In her case, a crisp white suit showed off her figure and demonstrated why she easily passed for ten years younger than the age on her driver’s license. “I worry about you. About what happens when you don’t take care of yourself.”

Health was a newly discovered focal point for all the Fords, as it was just over a year ago that Mal’s father, Gus, had suffered a heart attack. Suddenly eating reasonably well and exercising occasionally hadn’t been enough. Mal had taken up Pilates, Owen had started running more regularly and was apparently eating egg whites, and Donovan had begun walking everywhere. Mal’s father had taken up gardening while Evelyn had developed an obsession with making sure everyone ate their greens.

But the changes had been worth it. Her dad had bounced back with a new lease on life and a new attitude. One that he’d turned into a contract to do whatever he wanted. First, it had been his vegetable garden, then nosing around in his kids’ personal lives, followed by the decision to hand over the reins of the family business to his three children.

Mal still wasn’t sure her mother was over the loss of her flower bed by the side of the house—the once beautiful magenta peonies razed to make way for tomatoes and cucumbers. Or that’s what Evelyn pretended, which Mal now suspected had just been a ploy to get the backyard greenhouse she’d been hinting at for the last five years.

“I’m taking care of myself,” she told her mother. “I eat right and Grace and I still go to Pilates three mornings a week.” Even on Saturdays, which had once been her day for lounging in yoga pants with a vat of hot coffee, a cinnamon bun, the crossword and a pen.

“I know.” The line between Evelyn’s eyebrows eased slightly as she nodded. “But it’s a mother’s right to worry about her children.” She fussed with the high collar of Mal’s dress, smoothing it down. “Have you spoken with Travis?”

Mal forced herself not to react, not to flinch or rear back, even though her bare fingers suddenly seemed to burn with the weight of the missing ring. “Only for a couple of minutes.” Which had been plenty. Even if she still felt as if that final bit of closure continued to elude her.

“And you’re okay?” Evelyn’s dark-brown eyes, the same color as Mal’s, darted up to meet hers.

Mal fiddled with her hair, the chocolate color, like her eyes, inherited from her mother. “I’m not going to throw myself into the Pacific Ocean, if that’s what you’re asking.” Just how bad did she look, anyway? Travis was an ex and their breakup had been painful, but it hardly required the family to treat her as though she was glass—fragile, easily shattered. But then, there was Owen...

Mal felt the beginning of a scowl twist her lips. Owen and his ham-fisted attempts at creating conversations could definitely treat her more delicately.

Evelyn frowned. “That was certainly not what I was asking.” She waved at her husband who was never far from his wife’s side when they were in the same general area. “Gus. Come take a look at your daughter.”

“Hello, love.” Gus pressed a kiss to his wife’s cheek, then his daughter’s. “Hello, princess.”

“I thought we agreed to call Owen princess.”

Gus laughed long and loud. “We did. But not on his wedding day.” Anyone who didn’t know about Gus’s heart attack would never guess he’d suffered one from looking at him today. He was tall and slim. He and Evelyn had recently taken up cycling and were talking about a trip to Europe to see the sights on a bike tour. He looked very much like his sons, with just a few more wrinkles and a little extra gray at the temples. “Exactly what am I looking at?”

Mal shrugged. “Mom’s being crazy.”

“She looks tired, doesn’t she?” Evelyn said at the same time. She lowered her voice, though the other guests were far enough away that there was little chance of being overheard. “She talked to Travis.”

The confusion on Gus’s face cleared. “I see.”

Mal just bet he did. That they all did. “As I already told Mom, I’m fine.” Bad enough that she had to deal with her own emotions at seeing the ex she thought she’d left behind, but dealing with her family’s concern on top of it was getting to be too much. And she was fine. So fine. Even if Travis was moving back.

She ignored the thump of her heart.

“Wasn’t the wedding gorgeous?” Because Mal could think of no better way to change the subject than to do it herself.

But these were her parents she was talking to and they weren’t so easily conned. “I think she’s trying to pull a fast one,” Gus said to his wife while Evelyn nodded.

“It’s not a fast one.” Mal held her hands out. Nothing up my sleeves, folks. “I’m simply commenting on the beauty of the day, which is what normal people do at a wedding.”

“We’re normal?” Gus feigned a shocked look. “Don’t you remember when she was a teenager and she used to tell us we were from another planet because we didn’t get her?”

“And how she used to make us drop her off a block from school if she couldn’t get a ride with her cool brothers?”

“I was thirteen. It was a phase.” Mal felt herself falling back into those old teen habits and stopped herself from rolling her eyes. Barely. She put her hands on her hips instead. “And I wouldn’t have had to behave that way if you’d been able to get me and understand that climbing out of the family minivan on the first day of school would forever taint my chance of high school popularity.”

“High aspirations,” her mother said and pulled her into another hug. “I’m not sure how you managed to survive our parenting.”

“Sometimes I wonder that, too.” But Mal leaned into her mother’s arms and rested her chin on her mother’s head, which earned her a swat.

“You know I don’t like it when you do that.” But there was a twinkle in Evelyn’s eye. “It makes me feel short.”

“You are short,” Mal and Gus said in unison.

“You should appreciate my height more.” Evelyn straightened the cuffs of her winter-white suit jacket. “Who else would you find to lord your own height over if not for me?”

“Your mother has a point.”

Mal nodded and followed her dad’s lead when he curved his arms around his wife so that the two of them surrounded her completely. Their eyes met over Evelyn’s head and without a word or even a signal, they both leaned forward to rest their chins on her head.

Evelyn might have been six inches shorter than Mal, and more than that compared to her husband, but her slight stature didn’t stop her from being the bossiest member of the Ford clan. “Very funny.” But even she couldn’t help laughing.

The easy warmth comforted Mal. This was what she wanted out of life. A happy family and a devoted relationship. She let her parents wrap her up in the security of their love; she reveled in it. Just for a minute. And when they all stepped back, she felt better. Less fragile. “Thanks.”

“For what?” Her mother reached up to pat her cheek.

“For being my parents.” It was a little sappy. Okay, it was a lot sappy, but that didn’t make it any less true.

Her mother hugged her again and her dad’s voice sounded a little tight. “We love you, sweetheart. You know that.”

She did, and it was good.

They chatted a few more minutes, talking about whether they should get up early and take the first ferry back home to Vancouver or stay a little longer and explore Salt Spring. The three of them, plus her older brother, Donovan, and his wife, Julia, were all staying in a huge farmhouse about ten minutes away. The place had eight bedrooms and an enormous kitchen that Julia had already called dibs on. Since Julia was a professional chef, and an excellent one at that, they were more than happy to let her take over the space.

When her parents headed off to go and talk to some friends, Mal was feeling much better. And when Grace slipped up to stand beside her, Mal felt better yet.

The two of them had become friends a few months ago. It was a friendship that Mal was grateful to have. Somehow, she’d allowed most of her personal life to fall by the wayside this last year. Instead of turning to her loved ones, she’d held herself apart, filling her time with work and not much else.

But with Grace it had been different. Maybe because Grace didn’t know her from before and had no preconceived notions of what Mal should be like. Whatever it was, Mal appreciated what they had.

“Hello beautiful bride.” She wasn’t just saying it, either. Grace, with her long legs and silky blond hair was attractive at any time, but glowing with love and being loved? She was stunning.

“Everything okay?” Grace’s tone was gentle. Obviously she was still concerned after Mal’s little fit at the side of the house.

“Of course. A small overreaction for which I apologize.”

“It wasn’t an overreaction.” Grace shook her head. “Your brother, my husband, doesn’t always know when to mind his own business.” But she smiled when she said it.

“Anyway, I’m fine.” Mal pasted on a smile. Her issues were her own and not something she would unload on a friend on her wedding day. Talk about a downer.

But Grace merely lifted a pale blond eyebrow. “Right. So the way you’re so obviously not looking anywhere to your left has nothing to do with the fact that a handsome and tanned man just happens to be standing over there studying you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Mal tried to lift her nose, but not before curiosity got the best of her and she risked a peek to her left. What better way to show Grace and herself that she wasn’t afraid to look anywhere than by checking out just what Grace was talking about?

She immediately wished she hadn’t.

Travis stared back at her, a soft smile that she remembered all too well on his lips and heat in his eyes. Even thirty feet away with small groups of other guests between them, Mal could feel the sizzle rock the length of her spine. She shuddered.

“That’s what I thought.” Grace’s voice broke into Mal’s thoughts. “You still want to tell me you’re fine?”

“Yes.” Because she sure wasn’t going to admit that she wasn’t. “What else would I be?”

“Upset, rattled, confused.” Grace counted them off on her fingers. “I could go on.”

“You could, but I’m fine.” Though she’d been more fine before she became aware of Travis’s eyes on her. Didn’t he have somewhere else to look?

“Maybe you should talk to him.”

“I have talked to him.” Okay, so she hadn’t unloaded the thoughts rattling around in her head, making her stomach tight. Thoughts like: How could you not be there when I needed you the most? How could you choose the business over me? How could you let me go without a fight?

Grace nodded, her eyes probing for another moment. “Mal, if you—”

“I’m fine, Grace. This is your day. You’re not supposed to be worrying about me.”

“Of course I’m going to worry about you. You’re family and I love you.” Grace put an arm around Mal. “And I just want to be clear that should you need to talk, I’m here. Or if you need a shoulder to cry on, mine are pretty big.”

Mal smiled through the prickling behind her eyes. “Owen doesn’t know how lucky he is to have you.”

“He does.” Grace leaned forward so their heads were nearly touching. “I tell him regularly.”

Mal laughed. Grace had been good for her brother in so many ways. In fact, Grace had been good for her, too. “Thanks.” Mallory felt a little better.

“And when you’re up to it, remind me to tell you about my failed attempts at dating via matchmaker.”

Mal craned her neck to look at her. There was a twinkle in Grace’s eye, but not one that indicated she was joking. “Oh, I’m up to it, and that’s an awfully juicy piece of intel to keep from me, one of your nearest and dearest friends. Tell me.”

Grace smiled. “It was before Owen. Well, actually, it was between Owen. It did not go well. Except that it made clear to me that the only man I wanted to be with was your brother.”

“Something I still don’t understand.”

Grace squeezed her. “Be nice, because I’m about to make you an offer you can’t refuse.”

“Shouldn’t I hear it first?”

Grace gave her another hard squeeze. “Anyway, it was my failed attempt at getting over your brother. I only went on one date, but I’d paid for the full service. Social dinners, one-on-one dates, personalized matches.”

Mal met Grace’s expectant look. “Are you trying to gift me your matchmaking services?” Because while she was coming to the realization that her work-life balance was completely off, she wasn’t sure she wanted to dive into the deep end of the dating pool. Maybe wiggle her toes around and wade in slowly. “I’m not sure.”

“No pressure, but I think you should consider it.” Grace slowly turned her head, shot a pointed look over Mal’s shoulder. Mal knew she was looking at Travis. “Unless you’ve got your eye on someone else?”

“I don’t.” Mal felt she needed to be clear on that. “But not having my eye on someone else and joining a matchmaking service don’t exactly go together.”

But she’d be lying if she said she didn’t feel at least a spark of interest. Even if it was just to show Travis how thoroughly she’d moved on. And it was probably time she started dating again. She hadn’t been on a date in—she paused to mentally calculate—four years. Not since Travis had walked into her first year master’s course, Foundations of Managerial Economics, sat down beside her and asked her to have coffee with him after class. The rest, as they say, was history.

Too bad it was a history she’d rather forget.

“I think it might be good for you.”

“And it might not.” But instinct had her head swiveling to look in Travis’s direction again. Common sense had her stopping short and returning her gaze to Grace before she could embarrass herself. Again.

“You sure you don’t have something or someone else in mind?” There was a teasing note in Grace’s tone.

Mal gave what she hoped was an airy toss of her head. “I repeat, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t.” Grace didn’t bother to hide her smirk.

Mal decided to ignore that. Not that Grace wasn’t right. Nope, the problem was that Grace was right and Mal wasn’t fooling anyone. She exhaled. Still, she wasn’t ready to give in so easily. Because down that road lay danger. She’d be admitting her leftover feelings for Travis to Grace, who would mention it to Owen who, along with his warped idea that she and Travis might actually have a future together, would try to throw them together and then...who knew?

No, it was best to bury any lingering feelings she might have and move on. Maybe now, faced with the object of her discontent, she’d find it easier to work toward that goal. It was certainly no longer abstract.

“So, what do you say?” Grace gave her an encouraging nod. “You willing to give it a try?”

Mal knew she should say yes. Really, what could the harm be? That she didn’t meet anyone? She already wasn’t meeting anyone. That someone might break her heart? At this point, she wasn’t sure it could ever be put back together again anyway. “I...I’m not sure.”

Grace’s eyes tilted down at the corners. “What about if I asked you to do it as my wedding present?”

What was it with Grace and Owen wanting her to do something as their wedding gift? “I already bought you something amazing.”

But Grace didn’t respond, just watched her with hopeful eyes. Mal couldn’t deny those hopeful eyes.

She huffed out a breath. “Fine. I’ll do it.” And hoped she wouldn’t live to regret it.


CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_4bf4b512-46b2-5620-be05-456759973748)

TRAVIS SPENT THE two weeks post wedding not in a state of wedded bliss. But since he hadn’t been the one to get married, that didn’t come as much of a surprise. The lack of other bliss was more disappointing.

Sure, it might have been foolish to think that simply by apologizing Mal might forgive him. But she wouldn’t even agree to talk to him. He didn’t count the few minutes of conversation at the reception because...well, because he didn’t. He still had some things to say. Many somethings.

Fortunately, he had plenty to keep him busy so that he only spent half his time thinking about Mal, calling Mal and thinking about calling Mal. Okay, maybe a little more than half. Three quarters, tops.

He looked out the car window as Sara Thompson, his real estate agent, drove and chatted about the next potential bar location on the list.

The city hadn’t changed much in the three years he’d been away. There was new construction, but that was the norm these days. A formerly derelict hotel had been torn down to make way for new condos, more coffee shops, another few sushi restaurants. One of the good things about the constant gentrification and renovation was that there was always property for sale, and property was something Travis needed.

He had no intention of returning to Vancouver to work for someone else. No, now he had a taste for ownership, for being the boss. And now he had enough money to qualify for a loan on his own and no longer needed another signatory or the financial backing of an investor. It was a good feeling. Proof that he’d made it.

The Kincaids weren’t well-to-do. Travis hadn’t grown up with much. A small house with well-loved furniture, two pairs of shoes, two pairs of jeans—one set for church, one set for everyday—and the knowledge that if he wanted more than the tiny town where he’d been born, he’d have to do it on his own.

But they’d had love. His mother and grandma were quick to shower affection and praise, even his father, in his own silent way, showed he cared. A small proud smile, a solid clap on the back and a grunt for a job well done. Travis knew he and his brother, Shane, had been lucky. Many of the kids they’d gone to school with hadn’t been so fortunate as to have that love and support.

Until Travis, the Kincaids had always been blue collar and they liked it that way. He was different. The thought of working at the mill, running the machines, driving the forklift, always with the worry of closure hanging over his head as more and more companies downsized or shut down completely just wasn’t for him.

He much preferred the difficult and often backbreaking work of standing on his feet all day, handling customers with charm and overseeing the budget and obscenely thin margins that separated restaurant successes from failures. It exhilarated him.

The car slowed as Sara pulled into a covered parking garage still extolling the virtues of the space they were about to see. Travis already knew the details, but he listened because he didn’t feel like talking. They exited the parking garage out onto the cobblestone streets of Gastown, the city’s oldest neighborhood.

“I think you’ll find this space has a lot to offer.” Sara’s heels clicked as they walked. “Don’t expect it to be perfect. It’s been closed for just over a year.”

Closer to two years. Travis had done his homework. This place had been one he’d wanted back then, before he and Mal had decided to leave the country and try their hand in Aruba. But the old owners hadn’t been ready to sell, and he and Mal hadn’t been ready to wait. Now, it was as if the universe was correcting a wrong.

“There’s a lot of charm under the dust and debris.”

“Debris?” Travis’s research hadn’t turned up debris. Just that after many years of struggling, the restaurant that used to be here had finally turned up its toes.

“Nothing that can’t be cleared out in a few days. A few weeks, at most.”

Travis decided not to ask any more questions about debris that may or may not require a semitrailer to haul it away, but to wait until he actually saw it. The fact that the building might not be as ready to move in as he’d hoped was a small obstacle in his path. Anticipation tingled over his skin. He just wanted to see it with his own eyes.

“The building was originally built in 1910 and the structure is sound. You’ll note many of the original details have survived.”

They clicked down the sidewalk, Sara still rattling off notes about the property. But Travis no longer heard them. He only had eyes and ears for his new bar. Or his soon-to-be new bar.

The door stuck even after Sara unlocked it and Travis had to lean his shoulder into it to open it, but that was all part of the charm. The interior was dim, only one of the overhead lights turned on when Sara flipped the light switch. There was dust everywhere and plenty of that debris Sara had mentioned, but Travis saw beneath it. Past the white paint peeling off the wood ceiling, past the scarred 36-foot bar and past the wicker chairs and round tables.

The space had once been a family dining establishment, one that provided a clean and cheerful ambience that particularly appealed to little girls. Or maybe it was the princess cakes they’d been known for. Mal had been wistful when she talked about them. She and her family had come to The Blue Mermaid for her birthday every year from the age of six on. Right up until it closed down two years ago. But the princess cakes and the clamoring little girls couldn’t pay the kind of bills associated with a restaurant in the area. A bar could.

Travis moved farther into the room and ran a finger down the bar. It only needed a good sanding and a few coats of varnish to shine once again. The wood ceiling would need to be scraped, but the massive pillars remained unpainted, worn smooth by years of customers and no doubt little girls who hung on as they twirled around the bases. If they weren’t part of the original structure, he’d be surprised.

The brick walls had been saved from paint, too, for which he was grateful. It was possible to scrape brick, but it was usually easier and cheaper to rip it out and start over. And since that was neither cheap nor easy, he was glad he wouldn’t have to.

He could see damage in a few places, but the spots would be easy to replace with the same materials and maintain the old-world charm that still permeated the space. He inhaled, sucking in some of that charm and the dusty smell of disuse. But there was no mildew, no dankness, no watery scent that indicated deeper, hidden problems that would be uncovered once he cleared out all the debris.

Sara had stopped talking and was just letting him absorb. Smart woman. There was nothing that needed to be said. This was his place. His paradise. His future. Okay, perhaps he was being a little melodramatic, but it felt big. He’d picked up and left home at eighteen. Did the same thing with Mal when they moved to Aruba. And now? He inhaled again. Third time was the charm. This was not a place he would be leaving.

He turned, his eyes searching for Sara in the low light, and as his gaze tracked across the room he could see what it would look like. The wood, polished to a perfect gleam so that it glowed, comfortable bar stools covered in leather, a mix of low and high tables, some couches. He envisioned something that looked as though it would be found in an English manor. A place where people retired after dinner for drinks and discussion.

“I’ll take it.”

* * *

TRAVIS LAY BACK on the bed in Owen’s guest room, smiling at the knowledge that The Blue Mermaid would soon be his. Sara was writing up the offer and meeting with the owners to present it to them tomorrow morning. He had a feeling that it would be good news, or at least an opening to negotiations.

He would have to rename it. The Blue Mermaid was a name still known in the city and didn’t indicate the kind of establishment it would become. But he had plenty of other things to do first. There were licenses to have approved, permits and renovations, staff and budgets and food and beer lists. Plus he had to find his own place to live, go visit his family, since he’d been back in the country for a few weeks now and still hadn’t made the trip home, even though flights there, including check-in and disembarking, took under an hour. And then there was Mal. Always Mal.

The apartment was silent since Owen wasn’t around. Travis never would have stayed if he had been. But Owen had moved into Grace’s apartment after the wedding, so his place was sitting empty, and he’d told Travis it would be good to have someone there until he and Grace figured out what they were going to do with it. Sell it, rent it, keep it for no good reason.

Owen had told him to use the master, but Travis didn’t want to get too comfortable and he didn’t want to take advantage. It was more than enough that Owen had offered the space. But Travis needed his own place. His own bed. He made a note to mention it to Sara tomorrow. She specialized in commercial property but there would definitely be someone in her office whose focus was residential and he trusted Sara to steer him right.

He crossed his arms behind his head and exhaled. Things were coming together. Really, except for the fact that Mal didn’t answer his phone calls, it was better than he could have expected.

His stomach growled, reminding him of the fact that there was nothing in the fridge but bottled water and he no longer owned a bistro where he could just wander into the kitchen and order something. But Vancouver was a city filled with great restaurants. All he had to do was push himself off the bed, head outside and go find one.

But he didn’t. He lay there, staring at the ceiling and thinking about all the things he needed to do for his new bar until his phone rang, disturbing his planning. Travis smiled when he saw Owen’s name on the call display.

“How was the honeymoon?” Owen and Grace had spent the past two weeks in Fiji, no doubt having a lot more sex than he was.

“I am now officially a sex god.” And there it was.

“I’m sorry I asked. Oh, wait. I didn’t ask.” Travis would have given Owen a punch in the shoulder if he’d been in the room, but he was happy for his friend. Owen had changed from the light-hearted guy Travis had once known, but he liked this slightly serious version even better. This was an Owen he could talk to about things deeper than sports, deeper than the mechanics of cars or their workout routines. “So, how was it?”

“Very, very good.” Owen sounded relaxed. To be fair, Owen usually did, but this was a different kind of relaxed. A comfortable kind. “We’re thinking of retiring tomorrow and then going back.”

“Well, that does sound like you.”

“Want to come with us and open a restaurant?”

“I would.” Travis felt a burble of excitement. “But I’ve made an offer on a place here.”

“Congratulations. Where? When?”

The immediate interest reminded Travis of why he liked Owen so much. No matter what was going on in his life, he always had time for someone else. Travis thought it was because Owen just really liked people, one of the reasons he was now in charge of managing all three wine bars owned by the Ford Group. “Remember The Blue Mermaid?”

“That tacky place Mal always made us go for her birthday? Ugh. I think my teeth are still pink from the frosting on the princess cake.”

“No, that would be because you don’t floss. And it won’t sell princess cakes on my watch.” Though maybe he could do a bit of an honorific with some sort of drink—bright pink and sweet enough to rot teeth. He made a mental note to consider it later.

“Mal might like you better if it did.”

“Well, then, princess cakes are back on the menu. If only I’d known it was so simple.”

Owen laughed. “Speaking of, have you talked to her?”

“Not since you dragged her across the backyard during your wedding reception. I think she’s avoiding me.”

“You’re probably right. She can be a little hardheaded sometimes.”

“She’s not being hardheaded.” Travis had never told Owen what had happened between him and Mal, and he had to assume from the fact that he and Owen were still friends that Mal hadn’t shared that piece of history, either. “I deserve it.”

“Oh?” Another thing he liked, Owen would stop showing interest if Travis cut the subject short.

And he did so now. It wasn’t his place to tell Owen. Yes, Owen was his closest friend but Mal was Owen’s sister. And if she didn’t want him to know, Travis had to assume it was for a good reason. “If your sister wants you to know, she’ll tell you. I’ll only say that she’s not out of line with her anger.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” Travis could imagine Owen shrugging off the comment. “Mal can hang on to things too long.”

“I hope I’m not one of those things.”

“No, you’re the thing she’s trying to throw off the cliff, but you just keep hanging on.” And Travis had no plans to stop. “Let’s get together this week for dinner. We need to catch up and I’d like you to get to know Grace.”

“Sounds great.” It did. Travis stretched. His head bumped the wall, but he couldn’t slouch down any lower unless he put his feet on top of the footboard. Just another reason to get his own space. A bed that fit. “As long as you keep your sex life to yourself—I don’t think Grace would appreciate your sharing it.”

“That’s because you don’t know her very well.”

He didn’t, but Travis had a hard time believing Owen’s pretty blonde wife would find sex an appropriate topic for dinner conversation. “You willing to lay a bet on that?”

“No, but her mother did offer me condoms the first time I met her. True story. I’ll tell you about that over dinner. Sunday at eight? Elephants?”

“I’ll be there.” And not only because he had nothing else to do.

They chatted for a few more minutes, about the beaches in Fiji, the Vancouver hockey team and whether or not Travis was going to buy a car. Assuming he bought a condo in the downtown core, there was no reason he couldn’t walk to work and everything else he needed. He could join a car co-op which allowed him access to a car a certain number of hours a week on those rare occasions that he might need one.

But then he wouldn’t have his own car that was at his disposal any time he wanted it, wouldn’t have the ability to pack a bag, toss it in the back seat and just drive somewhere else. He exhaled. There was something about the freedom of owning a car. The freedom to convince a certain brunette to hop in with him and go away for a weekend in Seattle or Whistler or to visit his family. And he’d need a car when he visited his family.

Buses in Duthie River were so rare as to be practically nonexistent, and his parents shared a car since his dad had to drive past his mom’s hair salon on his way to the logging site. He could have borrowed his grandmother’s Buick, but Gram had sold it last year when the doctor recommended that she stop driving. She’d turned around and given the money to his younger brother Shane.

Shane had used the car money to buy a new truck—one with four-wheel drive, undercarriage lights, a hemi engine and a custom paint job that Travis had been relieved to learn didn’t include flames.

Travis didn’t resent the gift. His grandmother had given him money for his education. She hadn’t had much and he hadn’t wanted to take it, but she’d insisted and it had motivated him not to waste her generosity. And Shane had never seemed resentful about that, so if his brother wanted to soup up his old truck, then Travis was all for it.

He added car shopping to his ever-growing list, then settled on the couch with a bag of chips and a soda and watched sports highlights for the rest of the evening.

His plans for the renovations, his own apartment and a car could take a night off.


CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_5fb44707-ecf1-5ab2-9494-918894ad1b7d)

IT WAS EASIER than Mal had expected to transfer Grace’s matchmaker package over to her. A phone call from Grace to authorize the switch and a confirmation number was all that was required to officially sign up Mal. She’d done it before she could talk herself out of it.

The time was now. Actually, the time was now past. She should have done something like this, taken control of her life, months ago. But Mal was a believer in better late than never, and she refused to beat herself up more than she already had. She was taking the next steps, moving on with her life and making a new start.

The matchmaking service was located in a tall building in the downtown business district. The lobby was elegant, polished and gated. Mal had to check in with the desk officer before she was given access to the elevators.

She appreciated that they took their safety and that of their clients seriously. She watched the ascending numbers as the elevator with an art deco style grille and marble flooring zipped upward. The top half of the space was mirrored, so Mal checked her lipstick and smoothed her hair before she reached her destination.

Obviously she wouldn’t be meeting any potential dates today, but she wanted to make a good impression on the matchmaker, Angela. When they’d spoken over the phone, Angela had explained that part of the service was image consultation and she’d advised Mal to dress as if she was meeting a date for a casual weekly lunch.

Mal had pulled out her favorite suit. Not her power suit, as that made her look intimidating and tough, but her favorite one. It was a soft dove gray skirt set; she matched it with a silk shirt in cream and T-strap heels. A statement necklace and matching bracelet in the same cream color finished off the look. Her makeup was muted and she left her hair down, feeling as though the loose waves helped promote the casual aspect. She wasn’t tied back or pinned up, she was friendly and welcoming.

Her stomach jittered as the elevator reached its destination with a ding. She swallowed, rolled her shoulders back and stepped out into the hall.

The business took up the entire eighth floor, but rather than the elevator opening directly into the reception area, it opened onto a short hallway that led to a set of frosted glass doors. The business, simply named Vancouver Matchmaking Services, called itself VMS. The letters were printed on the doors in a rich charcoal shade, the effect one of professionalism and wealth.

As it should be. The service had certainly cost enough.

Mal pressed the discreet buzzer to the left of the door, as she’d been directed by the matchmaker, and waited for the young man sitting at the desk to buzz her in. His green eyes were friendly when she walked in. “Ms. Ford?”

“Yes. Mallory.” She exhaled slowly and reminded herself that she wanted to do this.

“Wonderful, you’re right on time.” He rose from the expansive wooden desk that ran across a large portion of the wall to come around the side. “May I take your coat?”

Although it had been unseasonably warm for Owen and Grace’s wedding, the typical Vancouver spring weather was back. Cold and wet. It wasn’t raining today, but it was cool enough for a wool coat. Mal handed over hers, a military style in heather gray.

While the young man tucked her coat into a small closet, Mal looked at the gorgeous view provided by the large glass windows behind the front desk. The North Shore Mountains were shrouded in a low mist—any colder and it would be snowing up there—while the ocean looked dark and flat. As she watched, a float plane buzzed in to land.

“Would you like a beverage? Latte? Espresso? Tea? Wine?”

Mal turned her attention back to him. “An espresso, please.” Her stomach probably didn’t need the caffeine, but it would be good to have something to do with her hands, and since she had to return to her office at Elephants—her family’s restaurant—after this meeting, wine was out. Not that Donovan would have judged her, but it sometimes made her sleepy and she had a meeting later on to discuss a charity event to raise money for local food banks.

“Single or double?” The man wore a slim-cut blue suit, plaid dress shirt and a sunshine yellow bow tie. His cheerful wardrobe and warm manner helped soothe her. Mal suspected that’s why he’d been hired.

“Single, please.”

“Great. I’ll just let Angela know you’re here and I’ll be back with your espresso. Please have a seat while you wait.”

The chairs that dotted the reception area were large and covered in rich fabrics—mahogany leather and ivory velvet. Gold brocade throw pillows tied the two disparate colors together. Mal took a seat on one of the leather chairs. Partly because it offered a better view and partly because she felt like playing against type. Clearly, the chairs had been selected with males and females in mind. But she preferred the leather. It set her outfit off better.

Mal double checked to make sure her cell was turned to silent while she waited. She imagined Angela would take the interruption about as well as any potential date might, which was to say not at all.

The young man was back quickly, carrying a steaming cup of espresso in delicate white china. “Angela is ready for you.”

Mal followed him down another hall into a large office done in the same shades of rich brown and soft whites with pops of gold. A tall, slender woman with caramel-colored skin greeted her with a warm handshake. “Angela Wilson.”

“Mallory Ford.” She forced herself not to fidget as Angela gave her the once-over. The appraisal wasn’t obvious, but Mal recognized it all the same. She’d expected it and gave Angela a covert once-over of her own.

The matchmaker appeared to be around Mal’s age. Her simple black dress with a skinny red belt flattered her figure and was clearly quality material and tailoring. Her arms were toned, her hair was glossy and she wore a large diamond ring on her left hand. Mal thought she looked eminently qualified to find a suitable match.

“Have a seat.” Angela gestured to a pair of matching ivory chairs in the corner of the large office. The young man had already placed Mal’s espresso on the small wooden side table and shown himself out, so it was just the two of them. A couple of women having a get-to-know-you chat.

Angela had already explained to Mal what would happen. The interview would be completely confidential, hence the lack of any other client in the reception area. Mal suspected they were carefully timed to prevent any crossover. She appreciated their discretion. Although she wasn’t embarrassed to have decided to use the service, she wouldn’t have been thrilled to run into someone she knew, either. It was a matter of keeping her private life private.

Actually, it was a matter of having a private life, since her current life consisted of work and sleep. Mal was looking forward to having one again. A lovely private life with dates and dinner and sex. Which made her think of Travis, which made her hands clench.

She forced her fingers to uncurl as she sat down and picked up her espresso. There was no reason to be tense, nothing to get upset about. Plenty of people had a bad breakup in their past, probably most people, and they seemed to find love again. She could, too.

Mal took a small sip of the steaming coffee and resolved to be open and honest no matter what was asked. As Angela had explained during their preparatory phone call, this would make the entire process more efficient, more enjoyable and more likely to be successful and find her a match.

And so the chat began, and she thought she was doing a pretty good job, right up until Angela asked, “Have you ever been in love?”

Mal started. Fortunately, she’d finished the espresso so her sudden jerk merely caused the cup to rattle against the saucer. She tried to cover it by putting both pieces down quickly and adjusting them. As if the continued clink of ceramic would hide the fact that the first clink had been unintentional.

Angela simply watched, her long legs crossed, expensive pen poised over a leather-bound notebook. Mal had been admiring it earlier, now she wished Angela would put it away.

She swallowed, stopped fiddling with the espresso cup and sat back in the cushy seat. “No.” Her pulse, already thundering, pumped faster. “I’ve never been in love.”

For the first time since she’d sat down, Angela didn’t make a note of Mal’s answer. “I realize it can be a difficult question to answer.”

There was no happy answer to be found sitting in the chair. She either admitted that she’d had her heart broken and the return of said heartbreaker was how she found herself here in the first place, or she lied. “I guess I just haven’t been lucky.”

Angela’s dark eyes studied her. Mal knew she wasn’t fooling the woman, but she did her best to meet the matchmaker’s gaze. Really, why did it matter if she’d ever been in love or not? She wasn’t interested in her past relationships—or relationship, as the case was. She was interested in meeting someone new, finding an as yet unknown individual to start a life with.

That was her story and she was sticking to it.

Angela slowly closed the notebook and put it and the pen down on the table beside Mal’s empty cup. “Mallory, there are no wrong answers in this session. This simply provides a basis from which we can find your most suitable matches.”

Mal wished her cup wasn’t empty, even a drop would help the sudden dryness in her mouth, but only white china stared back at her. She folded her hands and hoped they weren’t visibly shaking. And if they were, her knee provided a perfectly good point for grasping.

“I do have to tell you that if I feel you’re not ready or that you haven’t answered the questions honestly, we won’t move forward in the process.”

“Pardon?” Mal felt another jolt, though her healthy grasp on her knee helped to minimize it.

Angela nodded. She didn’t appear upset, but there was a serious look in her eye. “It’s unfair to anyone you might be matched with. We pride ourselves on only matching those people we think have a viable chance of success.”

“I’m ready to be matched.” Hadn’t she gone through the prescreening conversation on the phone? Worn an appropriate outfit? Arrived on time and with answers? Paid the expensive fee?

“Part of my role is deciding that. We find that often the reason people have been unable to find love is because they’re not ready.” Angela paused. “So I’ll ask you one more time, have you ever been in love?”

Mal opened her mouth to repeat her fib and stopped. Why did she feel the need to lie? Angela didn’t know her, didn’t know her family. And they all knew the truth anyway. So who was Mal hiding from except herself?

“Maybe we should reschedule, Mal—”

“Once.” Her throat felt tight even before she said anything. Where was the cute, hipster receptionist with access to the espresso machine when she needed him? “I’ve been in love exactly one time.”

Instead of picking up her pen and notebook, Angela nodded. Mal was grateful for her discretion. This would be a hard enough story to tell out loud. She didn’t need to watch someone write it all down. Immortalize it on paper forever.

“I thought we were going to get married.” The image of the ring sitting in her jewelry box popped into her head. The ring she should have given back. The ring that still gave her a little start every morning. Mal shook off that tangent. She’d return the ring to Travis later. Soon. It was nothing she needed to share with Angela. It would only give her the wrong impression. “And then we didn’t.”

“How long ago did things end?”

Some of Mal’s tension eased at Angela’s straightforward and neutral tone. She didn’t seem to think it was such a big deal. Maybe she was right. “A little over a year.”

“And are you still in contact?”

“No.” Mal shook her head. “I have no interest in seeing or talking to him.” She didn’t. The conversation at the wedding reception had been more than enough.

Angela did pick up the notebook now. “Tell me about your closest friends.”

When Mal left the matchmaker forty minutes later, she felt both tired and exhilarated. Much the way she felt after a great Pilates session. Only less sweaty and better dressed.

Angela had stated that she thought there would be no problem in making a match and she would be in touch shortly. Mal didn’t want to get her hopes up, but they were slowly climbing toward the sky.

A date. A real live date. Even just the idea of a night out with someone other than her family was enough to perk her up. Evidence that she really had let her hurt feelings linger far too long.

But now? Now things would be different.

She pulled the collar of her coat more tightly around her neck as a swift breeze swept off the water, but even the chilly air couldn’t dampen her spirits.

* * *

AFTER SOME SCHEDULING, all done through Angela, who even set up the dinner reservation, Mal’s date was set.

Josh. Mal rolled the name around in her head as she finished getting ready, spritzing on perfume and running a brush through her hair. It was a good first name. A solid first name. The name of a man who could be relied on to come home when he said he would, return phone calls and not have another woman’s legs wrapped around his head. It was also one of the few things Mal knew about her date tonight.

VMS didn’t share full names of their clients. They didn’t share jobs, neighborhood of residence or anything else that might make it possible for someone to discover personal details, either.

Besides his name, all Mal knew about Josh was that he was six feet tall, dark haired with gray eyes, had an athletic build and would be wearing a pale green shirt. All sounded promising.

She was meeting Josh at Chambar, a Belgian restaurant located in the gentrified Gastown neighborhood and known for its mussels. The restaurant was preselected by VMS, and Mal suspected it was halfway between both of their residences or workplaces. The taxi service called just as she was finishing getting ready to let her know her car would be there in one minute. She slipped into a coat and headed down to the lobby.

VMS advised clients not to share anything too revealing with their dates, including last names and work locations. With so much personal information available to anyone who could use a computer, it was far too easy for a person to get in touch when touch wasn’t wanted.

Mal hoped it was wanted tonight. She wore a fitted knee-length dress in dark red, the color of a rich cabernet. The material was textured with small ripples inviting touch. She’d paired the dress with simple black heels and a black leather peplum jacket with suede panels on the bodice. The jacket dressed down the outfit, taking it from slightly formal to urban cool. Finished off with a gold three-tier necklace made of thick chains, she thought it displayed a note of badassery, as well. That she wasn’t the type of woman who would be easily taken advantage of. Not the type of woman who put up with bad behavior.

Plus, it looked really cool. It was an outfit that should net a second date on its own, even if she wasn’t completely charming and fun, which she would be.

Of course, there were no guarantees of a second date. No guarantees of anything. Not even the exchange of full names and phone numbers. Tomorrow, Mal would receive a phone call from Angela to discuss the date. Was she happy with the match? Was she interested in seeing Josh again? Would she like Josh to have her number? Mal hoped the answers to all questions would be yes. Or, at least, maybe.

The familiar sign of the restaurant glowed as they turned onto the street and Mal’s stomach tightened. She shoved down the worried thoughts that attempted to rise and smoothed her skirt.

She hadn’t been on a date in four years. What if it wasn’t like riding a bike? Well, she might be in trouble. But she refused to think about that or the reason for her long dry spell. She would focus on the positive, on the promise of a future. Maybe her future was waiting in the restaurant.

Her stomach knotted again, but this time with anticipation as much as nerves. She stepped out of the cab into the cool April night and prepared to meet her destiny.

At worst, she was in for an excellent bowl of mussels.

* * *

THE MUSSELS WERE excellent, as was the company.

Mal laughed as Josh finished his ridiculous story about how he’d spent his Sunday. It had started with waking up at four and going on a run to the Seawall, then whipping up a gourmet breakfast, kayaking, climbing the Grind—the long and winding trail up Grouse Mountain—paddle boarding, shopping at Granville Island Market, seeing a local band at a club, visiting a food cart, traversing the Capilano Suspension Bridge, holding a dinner party for twelve and finally finishing the crossword puzzle. In ink.

“All right, you got me. I actually believed you for a minute. Right up until the crossword puzzle.”

Josh laughed, too. He had a nice laugh, a nice smile. “Ink was taking it too far? Would you have gone for it if I’d said pencil?”

“Absolutely.” She appreciated his humor. It made her feel more relaxed and made it easier to share her own stories. “Just like I’m sure you buy that I spent Sunday riding the Sea to Sky Gondola, eating dim sum, checking out an indie flick at 5th Ave, completing a mini-tri, meeting friends for beer on a heated patio and finishing the crossword puzzle. In ink.”

Josh’s already big grin widened. “I see what you mean about the ink part. Makes the whole thing unbelievable.”

“Exactly.” Mal nodded. She was enjoying the banter. In fact, there had been quite a number of enjoyable moments this evening and they’d only just finished dinner. Mal still had half a glass of wine in front of her, Josh had three-quarters of a beer.

“So, tell me.” Josh leaned forward and reached for her hand. His fingers were warm as they curled around hers. “What did you really do on Sunday?”

Mal resisted the urge to pull her hand free. She was doing nothing wrong. Hadn’t she wanted touch? And Josh was polite and funny and very good-looking. It wasn’t inappropriate to hold hands in a public setting, and she reminded herself that it only felt odd because she was out of practice. There was only one way to fix that. She curved her fingers around his. “I went to Pilates in the morning, did a bit of work and had dinner with my family.”

“Was there beer and a heated patio?”

“No. But there was a view of my parents’ garden and wine paired with dinner.”

“Fancy. Consider me duly impressed by your knowledge of wine.” A dimple twinkled in his cheek. “I’d bow to your superior knowledge, but then I’d have to let go of your hand.”

“Right.” Which made the whole hand-holding feel horribly awkward and made Mallory self-conscious. It was all she could do not to rip her fingers free. She settled for giving him a gentle squeeze and then picked up her wineglass, so it wasn’t as though she didn’t want to touch him, she was merely thirsty. But she was careful to put her hand in her lap and out of holding range once she let go of the glass.

Still, she was having a nice time and resolved to continue doing so. Josh appeared to be everything she was looking for. He told her he was a lawyer, though she didn’t ask which firm, and that he lived downtown, though she didn’t ask which neighborhood. Mal, in turn, informed him that she had bought her own little slice of heavenly real estate last year.

“We could be neighbors and not even know it,” he said. The downtown core was so densely populated that it was possible to live next door to someone for years and never see them.

“Maybe. Do you like to practice guitar on Thursday nights?” Her neighbor did. But aside from that, Mal knew nothing about him or anyone else in her building. She seriously doubted she could pick any of them out of a lineup.

“No, that’s on Mondays.”

“Well, good. Because my neighbor is pretty bad.” Or maybe it was just that she didn’t love his music choices, which seemed to consist of him strumming the same chord over and over and over. “If it had been you, I’d have had to pretend I enjoyed it to spare your feelings.”

“So thoughtful.” His dimple winked again. “But then, you haven’t heard me play yet.”

“There is that.” She cocked her head, feeling some of her earlier fear recede. See? She could do this. She could date and flirt. Totally like riding a bike. She even left her hand on the table the next time she sipped her wine and was rewarded by Josh picking it up.

“So, I was thinking.” He leaned closer. He had very pretty eyelashes, long and dark and lush. “I’m very much enjoying this date and you.” He gave her hand a gentle tug, pulling her closer. “And I’d like to continue it. If you’re interested.”

Mal hesitated. She should be interested. Josh was a good-looking guy with a good job. He was very much her type and what she’d told Angela she was looking for. And yet...

“I’d like that very much.” Mal said the words quickly before she could change her mind. She could figure out later if it had been a good idea or not.

“So where were you thinking?” Mal asked once the bill was paid—split between them—and they were on their way toward the restaurant’s lobby.

“What about Elephants?”

Mal stiffened. Really? Of all the places in the city, he had to choose the one owned by her family? And the one that housed her office upstairs? Her eyes darted to him. Did he know? Had he somehow uncovered who she was and this was a little test to see if she’d explain?

But Josh merely looked back at her with an open smile and nothing in his eyes resembling guile. Still, she trod lightly and chose her words carefully as they entered the lobby. “Have you been there before?”

“I have.” The hostess had their coats ready and Josh helped Mal into hers. She shivered when his knuckles brushed across the back of her neck. She wasn’t sure what it was from. Fear that he was possibly toying with her? The fact that his hands were cold? Attraction?

“A lot?”

“Once or twice. It’s nice, but if you’d prefer, we can go somewhere else.”

Mal looked into his eyes again. She saw no sign that there was any hidden agenda. And really, why wouldn’t Josh suggest Elephants? It was a great lounge in a great location, perfect for extending a date, and she didn’t think that just because it was owned by her family. She made a snap decision before things got awkward and Josh started thinking she wasn’t interested.

“I think Elephantssounds great.” And Owen wasn’t working tonight, so there was no chance of him horning in and embarrassing her, accidentally or otherwise.

Maybe being on her own turf would help ease some of her unsettled feelings about reentering the dating arena. She had no reason to feel unsettled. She was single, with no lingering strings that needed to be severed, the ring in her jewelry box notwithstanding. Josh had a lot going for him. She wanted to be attracted to him. She should be attracted to him.

They shared a cab as it only seemed sensible since they were heading to the same place, but Mal wondered what Angela would say. She decided she wouldn’t tell her—what Angela didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.

Conversation flowed easily during the brief ten-minute trip across the downtown core. Josh had one brother and was in a men’s hockey league.

Mal admitted to having two older brothers, though she definitely thought herself the wisest of them all, and a newly discovered affinity for Pilates. “I think part of it is just the opportunity to spend time with friends.”

Josh nodded. “Friends that Pilates together and all that.”

When the cab pulled up outside of Elephants, Josh paid the fare and helped her out. He didn’t let go of her hand after he closed the cab’s door. Didn’t let go when he pulled open the heavy wooden door of Elephants, either.

Mal had a quick internal discussion with herself over whether to break the contact or not before deciding to roll with it. But, once again, she was glad Owen wasn’t in—because holding hands with a stranger was the kind of thing he’d bring up for years after the fact. In truth, it was nice to have the human contact. So what if Josh’s touch didn’t give her butterflies? That part of herself had been shut down for so long that she probably just couldn’t feel the butterflies fluttering around. They might very well be flapping away in there and she just didn’t know it.

She wrapped her fingers more tightly around his, which earned her a smile as they stepped into the wine lounge. And though it was a Monday, the tables at Elephants were already full. Even the actual bar itself had a full house of people bellied up to it.

“Busy place.”

Mal tried not to shy away at the fact that his mouth, which was bent close to be heard over the noise, had practically brushed her earlobe. “Do you see any seats?”

She was tall, made more so by her stiletto heels, but Josh, at just a shade over six feet—according to Angela—was taller. “Nothing except a man waving his arm like he’s trying to get your attention.”

Mal’s first thought was that it was Owen. That her dear brother, after taking two weeks off for his honeymoon, was making up for the time away by working on his one off night. But when she followed Josh’s pointing finger it was much, much worse.

Travis. He was sitting in a large booth with both of her brothers, Donovan and Owen, and their two wives, Grace and Julia. All were staring at her with a range of expressions from surprised to sad. As though what she did on her own time was anyone’s business but her own.

Mal put on a smile she didn’t feel, reminded herself that she wasn’t doing anything secretive or illicit and turned to Josh. “I realize it’s a bit rushed, but how would you like to meet my family?”

She could only hope that her parents weren’t going to come sauntering by next.


CHAPTER FIVE (#ulink_f481ee38-2284-5b1c-99ad-bdc62277e761)

TRAVIS WATCHED MAL move toward him, hips swaying, hair bouncing, hand held by another man. He fisted his own hands beneath the table and hoped what he was feeling wasn’t written all over his face. But it probably was.

She wasn’t supposed to be dating other men. She was supposed to be with him.

He’d called her three times since the wedding. Every Tuesday to ask if they could talk. Every time she’d claimed work or other activities filled her schedule so completely that she didn’t have time. He’d suspected she hadn’t been entirely truthful with him and now he had proof.

Mal wasn’t too busy to go out with some preppy guy in a suit—she was just too busy to go out with him. And even though he’d already figured it out a few weeks ago, the confirmation still stung. As if he wasn’t good enough for her, wasn’t worthy of forgiveness.

Which felt really crappy. Even if he might have deserved it.

“Who is she with?” Owen didn’t bother to keep his voice down.

“I don’t know. She’s still not talking to me.” It didn’t feel good to say it, but Travis saw no point in lying as they’d all know the truth as soon as Mal reached their table.

Donovan and Julia both agreed they were equally uninformed on the subject of the stranger holding Mal’s hand, but Grace was noticeably silent.

Travis looked at her. She gave a jolt when she caught his eye and then hurriedly looked away. Busted.

“Grace.” Travis had only known his best friend’s wife a short time, but he already liked her and felt at ease around her. “Anything you’d like to add to the conversation?”

“Not particularly.” She ran a finger around the stem of her wineglass without looking up.

Owen jumped in at that comment. “No secrets. It’s my number one rule for a happy marriage.”

Grace shot him a private look. “Really? That’s your number one rule.”

“That and...” He leaned over and whispered something in Grace’s ear that left her half blushing and half laughing.

“Hey.” Bad enough that Travis was about to make polite conversation with the man touching Mal. He didn’t need his painfully single status pointed out, too. “Are you going to tell us who he is or not?”

“Well...” Grace’s blush deepened. “I might have sent her to my matchmaker.”

“You have a matchmaker?” But Owen looked amused rather than upset. “How is this the first time I’m hearing of it?”

“Because I was mad at you when I signed up.” She leaned over to give her husband a peck, which turned into a kiss, which Travis put a stop to, asking his next question before Mal reached them.

“So she’s on a date?” He glanced over, noting that Mal wore a dress and kick-ass heels. Definite date wear. The water he’d been enjoying earlier now tasted sour.

“I’m not sure.” But the sympathy on Grace’s face looked sure.

“It’s a date.” Julia nodded when she said it. Travis appreciated that she didn’t dance around the obvious. “But you could always ask if you want to be certain.”

“Right,” Travis said while Owen snickered. “I’m sure that’ll help convince her to talk to me.”

He’d have said more but finally Mal was at the table, giving them all a tight smile. “Everyone. This is Josh. My date.”

And then there was no reason to ask at all.

Travis thought he put on a pretty good face, maintaining a polite glare instead of the vicious one that he wanted to emit. “Josh.” He held out his hand. If he happened to squeeze the other man’s hand a little harder than necessary, it wasn’t because he was trying to indicate superiority of mate. Okay, it totally was. And if he got a small curl of pleasure when Josh attempted to out-squeeze him and failed, well, he was only human.

He caught Mal’s look and pasted on an innocent face. Nothing to see here but a bit of chest-thumping. “Mallory.”

“Hello, Travis.” Her voice was clipped, indicating her lack of interest.

Travis hurriedly shifted to his left to make room in the booth, effectively shifting everyone else to their left so that the only place to take a seat was next to him. He patted the seat when she didn’t immediately drop down beside him. “Join us?”

Mal’s lips pressed together. “There isn’t room,” she pointed out.

“We can fit.” He patted the space again. “I’m sure Josh doesn’t mind grabbing a chair to join us, do you?” Travis certainly didn’t mind, so long as it was Josh on the outskirts instead of him.

“We’ll find our own table,” Mal said. “We just wanted to say hello.”

Travis didn’t want her to go. He drank in the sight of her. The sexy dress and heels, the flip of her long hair. He longed to reach out and run a hand up her neck to cup the back of her head and claim a kiss from her soft lips. He swallowed. Hard.

She’d been out of his life for a year. A year during which he’d thrown himself into his business in an attempt to move past their breakup. An attempt that had failed, which had become shockingly clear when Owen had come down to Aruba for a visit and dropped the little bomb that he didn’t think Mal was as over their relationship as she claimed. And a seed of hope had been planted.

No, that wasn’t true. It had been planted all along, just waiting for that ray of sunshiny hope to urge it free, to reach for the light and bloom. He swallowed again.

“If you’ll excuse us,” Mal said, and Travis noticed she was careful to meet everyone’s eyes except his. He watched her take Josh’s hand and tug him in the opposite direction. A stone dropped into the pit of his stomach.

What if he’d made a mistake? After Owen’s visit, Travis had taken some time for self-reflection, to consider what he really wanted out of life, and when he’d looked around the beachfront bistro that he’d worked so hard to make a success, he’d been faced with the reality that it didn’t mean a whole lot without someone to share it with. Without Mal.

But what if she didn’t feel the same? What if Owen was wrong? Maybe she really was over him, over them. The squeeze of his lungs put his hand-shaking to shame.

“Okay, they’re gone,” Owen said. “You can stop glaring.”

“I wasn’t glaring.”

But the rest of the table just looked back at him.

“I wasn’t.” Travis ran his thumb back and forth along the edge of the table.

“You keep telling yourself that.” Owen reached over to punch him in the shoulder. “But I’m really hoping that’s not your A game.”

Sadly, it was. “Of course not.” Travis punched Owen back and was rewarded by seeing him wince, which he deserved. “But if you want to throw a guy a bone,” he included everyone at the table, “I’d certainly be willing to listen to ideas.”

But the table remained silent. He’d have been upset if they hadn’t all looked so sympathetic. The realization was almost enough to make him laugh. As a teen, he’d accepted sympathy with a pair of flying fists. But he was older now and wiser.

Okay, older.

“Buddy.” Owen clapped him on the shoulder. “I think this is something you need to figure out on your own.”

Travis looked at him. “In case you haven’t noticed, I haven’t been too successful on my own.”

“Oh, we’ve noticed.” Owen snickered, which was a damn sight better than the earlier pity. But only just. “And I, for one, am going to enjoy watching you figure it out.”

“You’re assuming I will.”

Owen shrugged. “Misplaced though it may be, I have faith.”

“That makes one of us.” Travis said it quietly, more to himself than any of his table companions, and though no one should have been able to hear him over the ambient noise of the bar, it was Grace, Owen’s new wife with her soft smile and calm manner, who reached across the table to give Travis a supportive pat.

“Don’t give up. You know Mal. She plays her cards pretty close to the vest.”

She did. Travis had had firsthand experience of that when she’d walked into his restaurant to tell him that she wasn’t coming back. Ever. No conversation, no discussion. Just that her family needed her and she was out of there.

It still hurt. Though he better understood her perspective now, having experienced the fear of nearly losing a loved one himself and being too far away to do anything about it. When his gram had fallen ill and been confined to the hospital where doctors could closely monitor her vitals, he’d been stuck in Oranjestad, Aruba, waiting to catch the next flight out. By the time he’d actually gotten to his small hometown, more than a day had passed.

It had scared him, badly. Knowing that if bad had turned to worse, he might never have seen his gram again. Might never have gotten a chance to make her laugh, tell her he loved her and say goodbye. Mal would have felt the same when her dad had been sick.

Maybe if she’d explained, had let him know her own fears, what she was feeling. But she hadn’t. And he’d responded by explaining that he couldn’t leave the bistro. Not when it had only been starting to flourish, becoming a popular destination with profits rising.

Travis sawed his thumb along the table edge again and looked in the direction that Mal and her date had headed. Her date. That guy was not her type at all. Too slick. Too polished. Too pretty.

“Did you see that guy’s nails? I think they looked better than Mal’s.”

Owen let out a supportive chuckle and Donovan smiled, but neither Grace nor Julia looked amused.

“Why are you two laughing?” Julia gave her husband a quick poke with her finger. “You’ve both been known to attend the spa to maintain your pretty-boy appeal.”

Grace nodded. “You don’t get hands that soft without professional help.”

Donovan frowned. “I only went because you told me the massage would relax me.”

But Owen wrapped an arm around his wife and whispered something in her ear. Then he kissed her while she blushed. “I plead the fifth.”

“You would.” Julia gave him a poke, too.

“Hey.” Travis drew the conversation back to him and his so-far weak attempts to win over Mal—if trying to talk with her at the wedding and a few phone calls could be considered attempts. “I’d go to the spa for Mal. Mud mask, apricot scrub. The works.”

Owen stared at him. “Who are you?”

Travis shrugged. “Just a guy trying to have a conversation with your sister.” A guy who was going to have to step up his game if he wanted to succeed. “So, you think I should invite Mal to the spa? Or maybe just casually show up?” When they all just stared at him, he shrugged. “Too creepy? Not creepy enough?”

“Just the right amount of creepy.” Owen leaned against the padded booth back. “But that won’t work with Mal.”

No, it wouldn’t, but it was better than doing nothing. Travis rubbed his thumb along the edge of the table again. Thinking. At one time, he’d have instinctively known what to do, how to get back in Mal’s good graces, back in her life. But that was before. This new Mal was cooler and yet more fragile. As though she might shatter with a careless touch.

“I do have one suggestion.” Owen sipped his water instead of revealing his thought, clearly enjoying the moment. “Since you’re just a guy who wants to have a conversation, maybe you should have this conversation with her instead of us? Not that I don’t love your wallowing.”

“I don’t wallow,” Travis said, feeling the need to defend himself.

He was met with silence, but suddenly he didn’t care, his gaze caught on the sight of Mal coming toward them, toward him. His heart lodged in his throat. Had she ditched the pretty boy? But she bypassed them with a nod and headed down the short hall that led to the washroom.

Travis was pushing out of the booth before she was even out of sight.

“Where are you going?” Owen called after him. Travis merely waved him off, eyes focused on the path Mal had taken. This avoidance of hers had gone on long enough. They needed to talk. He needed to know.

He picked a spot in the hall, leaned his shoulder against the wall and waited. A few other patrons passed him, barely flicking a glance his way as they went about their own business, but for the most part the hall remained empty, which suited him just fine.

His pulse jumped when Mal reappeared. Even when she scowled at him. “Travis. I don’t have time.”

“Make some.” He straightened up. “We need to talk.”

Her eyes darted past his shoulder, but she didn’t move to go around him. “I’m on a date.”

“I’m aware of that.” His entire body practically strained at the idea. At how wrong it was.

“Then I don’t see what we have to talk about.” She crossed her arms.

“We’re in the same city. We work in the same industry. We’re going to continue bumping into each other.” He still wasn’t sure how she would feel when she found out he’d purchased The Blue Mermaid.Happy that it was going to receive the love and attention it deserved? Or upset that it was him giving the love and attention?

“So?” Mal put her hands on her hips. Her red lips pouted at him.

“So I want us to...” He trailed off, unsure of how to finish the sentence. The truth was he wanted them to be okay, but that was only part of it. He wanted much more than that. “I want to apologize.”

“Travis.”

“Hear me out.” He’d just keep talking until she did. “I understand now why you had to come back. I should have supported you.” He saw the dip in her shoulders. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.”

There was only silence. He heard her breath hitch and then sync with his, instinctively they mirrored each other, finding common ground in their bodies while they struggled with their emotions.

“Why are you telling me this?” She looked up at him, her eyes huge and pained.

Travis wanted to cup her cheek, wanted to stroke away the hurts with the rub of his thumb, but the moment felt too delicate, too fragile. “Because I’m back.” And she was a big part of the reason why.

She blinked and then straightened. Away from him. “You figured we could just pick up where we left off?”

“No.” He hadn’t thought that. Maybe hoped, but logically he understood that notion wasn’t based in reality. “But whatever was between us, it’s still there, Mal. You can’t deny that.”

“Not for me.” He noticed she didn’t quite meet his eyes this time.

“Do you mean that?” He kept his tone low, private, and didn’t reach for her, though his arms longed to wrap her up and pull her against him.

Her throat bobbed and she swayed on her heels. Her long lashes fluttered down against her cheeks. When she looked up her eyes were empty. It hit him right in the gut. That blank look of indifference. “I have to.”

Which was not the same as saying it was true. “Mal.” He did reach for her then, longing for the familiar feel of her body, the scent of her skin.

She sidestepped away. “I’m on a date, Travis. I have to go.”

His arms dropped to his sides. Trying to force the conversation now wouldn’t get him anywhere. He knew that. “We still need to talk.” He knew he’d been wrong about some things, but she’d been wrong, too. She shouldn’t have made the unilateral decision to relocate to Vancouver without talking to him. He’d thought they were a team, a united pair who looked out for each other. They needed to talk.

She didn’t respond, merely ducked her head and moved past him back down the hallway toward her pretty-boy date.

His eyes tracked her until she was out of sight. Then he took a few deep breaths before following the same path. Her citrus scent tickled his nose and his memory. The way she used to smile at him as if he was the only person in the room, the way her body melded to his when he kissed the side of her neck, the bond that seemed to flow between them no matter how far apart they were.

As he stepped back into the main room of the lounge, his eyes found her. As he sat back down in the booth, he saw her looking back before she turned around and said something to the man sitting across from her. And Travis knew, no matter what she said or didn’t say, the bond was still there.

And they still needed to talk.

Travis kept an eye on Mal, and the door, taking note when she finally left with her date. He waited another few minutes, long enough not to seem obvious, before he pushed himself out of the booth and pulled a few bills out of his wallet to cover his meal.

“Your money’s no good here,” Owen called after him as he walked toward the exit, but Travis wasn’t listening. He had something more important to do and it didn’t include wallowing.

He’d barely closed the door of the cab behind him before he dialed Mal’s number on his cell. She’d gotten a new number once she’d returned to North America, but Owen had given him both the phone number and her address, with the understanding that Travis would say it had been Donovan who’d spilled the beans. He didn’t expect her to pick up and she didn’t. So he left a voice mail.

“Hey, Mal. It’s me. Travis.” God, he hated saying that. Like he was so far gone from her life that he was no longer known by voice recognition alone. “Listen, we need to talk. I’m on my way to your place. If you’d rather not talk now, call me back.”

He clicked off. He didn’t expect her to call back because he didn’t expect her to listen to the message. Which made it cowardly and a little dastardly to say that she should call back to cancel, but things were nearing a level of desperation.

Hell, who was he kidding? He was already desperate.

Desperate to see her, desperate to talk, desperate to make up. His stomach tensed as the cab neared her apartment in the downtown core. He could probably walk there from Owen’s place in Coal Harbour, which was good to know because there was a strong possibility she wouldn’t let him into the building at all.

But he’d deal with that if it happened.

A chill wind cut across his body, tugging at the edges of his shirt as he climbed out of the cab. Travis shivered. The months in Aruba had made him sensitive to the cooler weather in the Pacific Northwest. Before he’d moved there, he’d been known to wear short sleeves year round and only in the coldest, wettest months did his jacket make it out of the closet. As for a scarf or gloves? Forget it. Unnecessary. But now, he could do with a scarf. Except he really didn’t want to look like a hipster. Or wear skinny jeans.

He strode to the building, feeling the twist in his stomach, knowing there was a chance she’d turn him away or wouldn’t even answer when he buzzed. There was a fancy touch screen glowing beside the building’s front door—into it he punched the numbers that would call Mal’s suite. Owen had coughed up that information, too, as well as the fact that Mal—like many women who lived alone—didn’t post any personal information that could be tracked back to her. Protection from stalkers, weirdos, ex-boyfriends.

The system rang, that computer-generated double ring. Brrp-brrp. Brrp-brrp. Brrp-brrp. She didn’t answer, and for a moment Travis wondered if she was home. His stomach grew tenser as did the muscles in his neck, his legs, his hands. If she’d gone home with that slick-looking guy, he was going to...well, he’d do something. Something he’d have to figure out, but breaking something or punching a wall sounded like a good start.

“What do you want, Travis?”

He blinked and stared at the computer screen, which was still glowing but no longer ringing. “Mal?”

“Why are you here?” She didn’t sound welcoming, but at least she had answered.

Travis glanced up the side of the cement building, past the rows of windows reflecting the city lights. Was Mal behind one of them? Phone pressed against her ear looking down at him?

“You’re on camera,” she said, as though she’d read his mind.

He blinked again. Of course. A place like this would definitely have a camera at the front door to allow residents to see who was calling before they decided to pick up or let someone in. He should have figured that out on his own. “Can I come up?”

“Why?”

Which was better than a no. “I’d like to talk.” He waited, and when she didn’t refuse, he pressed a little harder. “Come on, Mal. I’ve been calling you for weeks. I just want to talk.” He didn’t just want to talk, but he didn’t want to scare her, either. The simple fact that she’d answered and hadn’t yet hung up on him was an improvement on past interactions.

“Travis. It’s late.” But she didn’t sound sure or maybe that was wishful thinking.

“It’s not that late.” It was, but he wasn’t about to admit it, wasn’t about to let her shuffle him off so easily. He reminded himself that in the old days, they’d often worked until closing on Sundays and then gone out to an after-hours place. It wasn’t even midnight yet. “Mal?”

“I have to get up early in the morning. Why don’t we meet for coffee tomorrow before I head to work?”

Travis might have agreed a few weeks ago, before Mal had become a professional avoider of him, but now he knew what would happen if he agreed. She wouldn’t show up. The excuse would run along the lines of she was running late and was so sorry but they’d have to reschedule, a surprise morning meeting had been called and she couldn’t miss it so they’d have to reschedule, there were no cabs, the buses were full, her shoes weren’t made for walking so they’d have to reschedule. Regardless of the reason, the result would be the same. Him and no Mal. “I’m here now.”





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