Breakaway. Rochelle Alers

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СКАЧАТЬ and refused to talk to her for a week. The stalemate ended when she asked her roommate to show her how to do laundry. Learning how to separate whites and colors segued into shopping for groceries and eventually cooking lessons. After four years, Celia and Rania Norris were not only roommates and friends, but sorority sisters.

      Even her fiancé had been completely in the dark when it came to her wealth until she’d purchased an oceanfront mansion from her cousin. Nathaniel Thomas-Mitchell had designed the prize-winning showcase house as a wedding gift for his bride. But after the drowning death of their two-year-old daughter, Nathaniel and Kendra divorced. Eventually they relocated to Chicago, reconciled and remarried. Celia had bought the six-bedroom, seven-bath house, hoping she and Yale would raise their children there, and then grow old together.

      She and Yale had had their first serious argument because he’d felt she hadn’t trusted him, and that she’d thought if he’d known of her wealth he would have proposed marriage because of her money. He’d admitted that he would marry her even if she were a pauper. Fortunately, she wasn’t destitute.

      She was only a few miles from downtown Waynesville when she decided to stop at a supermarket in a shopping center. Not only did she need to fill the pantry and refrigerator, but she also needed cleaning products. It had been more than a year since she’d been at the house and she hated to imagine what would greet her when she arrived. There was no doubt that the house would be filled with dust and cobwebs, but hopefully nothing more. When she’d locked up the house last summer, she had emptied and cleaned the refrigerator, then unplugged it. She hadn’t had to concern herself with break-ins because she’d installed a security system that was linked directly to the sheriff’s office and fire department. Her nearest neighbor e-mailed her once a week to give her updates on the property.

      Maneuvering into a parking space near the entrance to the supermarket, Celia cut off the engine and got out of her SUV. Reaching for a shopping cart, she walked into the market and was met with a rush of cool air from the air-conditioning.

      Gavin stood in the supermarket produce aisle, checking the fresh herbs and vegetables in his shopping cart with what was listed on a recipe card for the Thai salad he’d planned to prepare for dinner. The recipe called for two different types of cabbage, but with more than half a dozen varieties on display, he was a little confused.

      He’d just moved into a nearby cabin, compliments of the government, and had spent the past two days settling in. Gavin did not mind eating out, but he’d recently begun preparing his own meals in an attempt to eat healthier.

      “Excuse me, miss, but can you please tell me the difference in these cabbages?”

      Celia stopped filling a plastic bag with peaches. She stared at the tall, solidly built man with stubble on his lean brown jaw. His large dark eyes and strong masculine features made for a strikingly attractive image. He was casually dressed in a white tee, jeans, boots and a well-worn black baseball cap.

      “It all depends on what you want to prepare,” she said.

      Gavin went completely still when the woman with a profusion of black curls grazing the nape of her neck turned to face him. Her small round face reminded him of a doll with her large dark eyes, pert nose and a temptingly curved mouth. He knew it was impolite to stare, but he couldn’t pull his gaze away from her flawless face, which was the color of brown velvet. Even her voice matched her face. It was low and very sexy.

      He blinked. “What did you say?”

      Celia smiled, dimples dotting her cheeks like thumb-prints. “I said it all depends on what you want to make.”

      “Slaw—it’s a spicy Thai slaw.” Gavin couldn’t believe he was stammering like an awkward adolescent.

      “Perhaps you should try the Savoy or Napa cabbage.” Leaning over, she tried reading what was written on Gavin’s index card. “What does your recipe call for?”

      Gavin gave her a sheepish grin, revealing a mouth filled with straight white teeth. “I guess I forgot to write down the type of cabbage.”

      “You can’t go wrong with the Savoy or Napa.”

      “You must be a fabulous cook.”

      Her eyebrows flickered. “Why would you say that?”

      “You know right off the top of your head which type of cabbage I should use.”

      Celia wanted to tell him that if it hadn’t been for Rania she wouldn’t have been able to boil an egg. “It’s just common sense. Asian dishes call for Asian ingredients.”

      “Sometimes common sense isn’t that common,” he quipped. “Do you shop here often?”

      Eyes narrowing in suspicion, Celia asked, “Not really. Why?” Whenever she’d come to Waynesville for more than a week, she would visit the supermarket to restock her pantry. However, if she’d planned to stay for an extended weekend, then she shopped at the smaller downtown markets and variety stores.

      “I need soba noodles, and I’d hoped you would know which aisle they were in.”

      “If they do carry them, then you’ll probably find them in the aisle with the other imported products.”

      Gavin shook his head. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

      Celia wanted to tell the gorgeous stranger that either he truly lacked common sense or he’d embarked on a cooking project that exceeded his culinary expertise. “Good luck with your spicy Thai slaw.”

      “Thank you for your invaluable assistance.”

      Turning back to her shopping cart, she glanced at its contents. She’d selected seasonal fruits, fresh herbs and vegetables. All she needed was dairy and then she would head home.

      She pushed her cart away from the produce section slowly, glancing over her shoulder at the delicious-looking man. Her pulse quickened when she saw him standing motionless, staring at her. Raising her hand, she waved, and then turned down another aisle.

      Twenty minutes later, she pushed her cart out to the parking lot and transferred her groceries from the cart to the cargo area of the vehicle. As soon as she sat behind the wheel, her eyelids felt heavy. She’d been on the road more than twelve hours. Her plan to clean the house would have to wait. After all, she had tomorrow and the day after tomorrow and the rest of the summer to do all she needed to do before returning to Miami. She hoped when she did return to Miami that she wouldn’t be the same woman who’d left.

      Celia unlocked the door to the house she regarded as her sanctuary, a place to heal. What she didn’t want to do was relive the last time she’d come with Yale. Miraculously, they had been able to coordinate four days of vacation and they’d traveled to North Carolina to unwind. Four days stretched into six when a freak snowstorm blanketed the Blue Ridge and Great Smoky Mountains, and they were trapped inside until the roads were cleared. It would be the last time she and Yale would spend time together in what he’d always referred to as “the mountains.”

      She deactivated the security system and walked in, wrinkling her nose when she encountered a buildup of heat and muskiness. Within minutes she flicked on lights and opened windows. Clean mountain air swept into the rooms through the screens, quickly dispelling the stale odor. The imprint from the bottom of her running shoes was clearly outlined in the layer of dust covering the wood floors. Yale had chided her for covering the furniture with dustcovers, but the diligence then now СКАЧАТЬ