Secrets Between Them. C.J. Carmichael

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ he might not do if she didn’t stop gawking at him.

      In her defense, she didn’t think she was the only one having a moment here. The man in front of her seemed just as transfixed by her as she was by him.

      He watched her approach with such intensity that she should have felt self-conscious. But, she didn’t.

      “Hi, I’m Jennifer March. Welcome to Lavender Farm.” She put the basket on the ground, then held out her hand, amazed that she could sound so poised when she felt anything but.

      “Jennifer.” His hand was warm, his grip firm.

      She removed a strand of hair the wind had blown across her cheek. “You’re Nick Lancaster?”

      “Yes. Sorry, I should have identified myself right away.” His smile was a little crooked, a quirk that added a dash of self-deprecation to his confident air.

      “Your reservation was made by a woman. I didn’t know she was booking for someone else.”

      “That would have been my agent. She took care of the travel arrangements. I must say, I had no idea it was going to be so pretty here.”

      He looked right at her as he said that and her usual shyness suddenly kicked in. Was he flirting, or just being friendly? If he was flirting, what should she say in response?

      Though Simone had been gone three years, Jennifer knew exactly what she would be saying if she were here. Go for it, Jenn! Here’s your big chance.

      Let him know you’re interested and available.

      But now that it was happening, or might be happening, she felt awkward and tongue-tied.

      “Um…why do you have an agent?” He was certainly good looking enough to be an actor. But he was also in incredible shape, so maybe he was a professional athlete.

      His laugh was easy, natural. “I’m a writer. Michele Ashburn, the woman you spoke to on the phone, is my literary agent.”

      She never would have guessed that. He didn’t look like the scholarly sort. “What do you write?”

      For the first time since he’d arrived, he glanced away from her and hesitated with his answer.

      “I’m writing a book,” Nick said, finally.

      “Oh.” They’d had a couple of authors stay at the B and B over the years. One had been working on a travel guide for kayakers in the Gulf Islands, another had been doing an environmental survey for his doctorial thesis. “What’s your book a—”

      She didn’t have a chance to finish her question as the front door opened and her father stepped out to the porch.

      “It’s time for afternoon tea, Jenn. Should I put the kettle on?” He paused at the sight of Nick, several yards away. “Is that our guest from New York City?”

      Jennifer dashed up the stairs to hand her father his walking stick. He hated the cane, but she lived in fear that he would one day fall and break a leg. Since his stroke, he’d been a little wobbly on his feet.

      But no damage had been done to his acuity. Even though her father could no longer handle the day-today work of running the bed-and-breakfast, he still managed the accounting side of things. He also checked the bookings every morning and made a point of greeting new arrivals personally.

      “Dad, this is Nick Lancaster. Nick, my father, Phil. He and my mother started this bed-and-breakfast almost forty years ago.”

      Nick stepped forward to shake her father’s hand. “This is a really beautiful place.” His eyes were on Jennifer again, and once more she felt as if his compliment for the place included her.

      Aunt Annie appeared from the side of the house. Though she ate her meals with the family, she slept in a small cottage on the property that had once been a potting shed. It was fully winterized now, with plumbing and a small kitchen.

      “The toilet is leaking again,” Annie said, before noticing the new guest in their midst. “My, my, who is this handsome fellow?” Annie approached Nick with her head tilted back, so she could see out of the bottom half of her bifocals. “Are you a friend of Jennifer’s?”

      “He’s our guest from New York,” Jennifer’s father explained. “Nick, this is my sister. She used to work as a midwife in Northern B.C. but now she lives with us.”

      “A midwife. You must have many interesting stories.”

      Annie beamed, then in a move more fitting of a southern belle than a northern midwife, took his arm. “I most certainly do. You must join us for afternoon tea.”

      Jennifer was all but pushed to the side as her father and aunt claimed the new guest and led him inside.

      So much for that romantic moment they’d been having.

      Her chance for adventure was over before it had really started.

      JENNIFER FOLLOWED THE TRIO inside, trying to see the humor in the situation. Wasn’t it just typical of her life that the first time in ages she met a man who made her heart beat faster, her aunt had to show up on the scene complaining of a broken toilet?

      Still, it would have been nice if she could have had a few more moments alone with Nick Lancaster…

      “Nice picture.” Nick paused to admire a painting Simone had given Jennifer for her thirtieth birthday. It was an Emily Carr, small, but original.

      “Thanks,” Jennifer said. “There’s a story—”

      “Tea, Jennifer?” her father reminded her. “We shouldn’t keep our guest waiting. I can show him to his room while you put out the spread. He has the suite over the garage, right?”

      “Dad,” Jennifer said quietly. “The stairs?” He could only manage them with difficulty now and she knew it would be painful for him.

      His face fell and she put a hand to his arm. “I’m sure Nick won’t mind waiting a few minutes.”

      “Never mind the tea,” Annie said. “What about my toilet? Jennifer, didn’t you hear me tell you that it’s leaking?”

      Had she fallen down a rabbit hole when she’d been out in the garden? Since Nick Lancaster’s arrival, it seemed her family had gone crazy. “I’ll phone someone to fix it,” she promised her aunt. “But I think it can wait until—”

      “I could take a look at it,” Nick offered. “While you’re preparing the tea.”

      “Thank you, but no. You’re a guest. Aunt Annie, could you please pour—”

      “I don’t mind,” Nick insisted. Cleverly, he put his case to her aunt. “I assure you I’ve had some practice in the area of home repairs. My parents split when I was a teenager and my mother was not mechanically inclined. Fortunately, I had a grandfather who bought me a toolbox and taught me the basics.”

      “Including leaking toilets?” Annie’s keen blue eyes were begging not to be disappointed.

      “Including СКАЧАТЬ