Tempted By Dr Patera. Tina Beckett

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СКАЧАТЬ no! Where there’d once been the satisfying crackle of a cooking egg there was now billowing smoke coming from the stovetop.

      But that alarm...

      God! Her ears!

      The racket was huge and dramatic, with flashing strobe lights and a screeching caterwaul that reminded her of a seagull. Or maybe a million of them.

      The hot oil wasn’t actually on fire, thank heavens, so she rushed over and grabbed the pan. She was hurrying toward the sink with it just as the front door burst open.

      Deakin appeared, stopping in his tracks as his eyes jerked from her face and landed on the pan, which was now safely under the tap.

      He came over, putting both hands on the edge of the counter, his breath seesawing in and out. “What happened?”

      She could barely make out the words over the alarm.

      “I was trying to cook dinner, but...” She had to yell, her vocal cords straining. “Can you turn that thing off?”

      He pulled a remote from the front pocket of his chinos and aimed it toward the still blaring siren.

      She sucked down a deep breath, her ears ringing in the sudden silence that followed. “Wow. Why didn’t you just turn it off from the house? I think you got an industrial-sized alarm by mistake.”

      “No mistake. It’s safer.”

      Her head tilted. Safer? Okay...whatever he said.

      She gave a rueful gesture toward the skillet. “I’m sorry. I’ll reimburse you, of course, if the pan is ruined.”

      “It’s nothing. I thought the whole cottage was on fire.”

      It was then that she realized his upper lip was damp with perspiration and the tight lines running down the side of his face weren’t from irritation but from something far worse. Fear.

      Of what?

       A smoke alarm went off, Lea, that’s what.

      He didn’t want to lose his home to her stupidity. But she had never seen an alarm like that. Actually, when she looked closer she also saw ceiling sprinklers, jutting down at regular intervals.

      “I guess I’m lucky the sprinklers didn’t go off and give you water damage on top of everything else. I really am sorry.”

      He brushed aside her words. “It’s nothing. I’m just glad you’re okay. The sprinklers are set with a delay. If the alarm isn’t shut down in ten minutes they engage, and then the fire department is notified.”

      There was a tense element to his voice, that made her take a closer look at the way he was perspiring.

      A warning tingle started at the back of her head and traveled up over the top. She shut off the faucet. Maybe that was what those scars were from. A house fire. It would explain a lot. His apathy toward the island. His reluctance to return, according to Theo.

      Bad memories?

      If it had been the big house or this particular cottage, they had been rebuilt to perfection. They looked like they’d been standing on this rocky crag for the last century. Except for the boathouse. That was different from the main house and the cottage, even though it still blended in. It just seemed newer, somehow. But there was no way she was going to ask.

      “I’m fine.” She forced another smile. “Unfortunately my meal didn’t fare quite as well.”

      “The smoke detector certainly didn’t approve.” A beep-beep accompanied a few more manipulations of the remote control. “There. I’ve reset it for you.”

      Just in case his panicked reaction wasn’t all in her imagination, she decided to put his mind at ease. “Thanks. I’ll stay far away from the stove tonight so I don’t trip it again. Cold cuts it is.”

      He paused for a few long seconds before glancing at her, and sure enough his muscles seemed to relax all at once. “My aunt’s moussaka is heating in the oven at the main house. There’s more than enough if you want to share.”

      She tried to ignore the way her mouth watered. Moussaka was one of her favorite dishes. “Are you sure? I don’t mind just making a sandwich.”

      If he was as uneasy about having her at the cottage as she thought he was, it was up to her to make sure her stay was as discreet as possible. Especially since there wasn’t anywhere else for her to stay. At least not now. Maybe in another week or two something would open up and she could leave Deakin alone in his cottage on the hill.

      “I’m sure. I was going to offer earlier, but I wasn’t sure what your plans were.”

      “My plans are a bit charred now,” she said, nodding at the sink. “You rent the house out, Theo said? The cottage as well?”

      “Yes. Since my parents are both gone it’s the best way I can think of to keep them occupied, so their upkeep is not left completely up to my aunt.”

      His tight jaw said that his parents were “gone” as in deceased. She was surprised Theo hadn’t mentioned that.

      “I’m sorry about your parents.”

      “It’s been a while, but thank you. They died in a car accident on the mainland.”

      They died together.

      She closed her eyes for a second, trying to suppress a wave of grief. At least one of them hadn’t left the other wondering where they’d gone wrong. Or if they could have done something—anything—differently.

      Not a healthy avenue to pursue.

      With as much PTSD as she’d treated, you’d think she’d be able to recognize it in herself. The problem was, she did recognize it. There just wasn’t anything she could do about it. Things were the way they were, and no railing against fate was going to change it.

      Mark was dead. His life cut short in a single defining moment.

      Six months before they were supposed to be married.

      “It’s hard losing someone you care about.”

      The words came out of their own volition, making her frown. She needed to change the subject before it brought back even more memories. Ones that were better off left behind her.

      “So, your aunt is a good cook?”

      He pushed away from the counter, his tenseness evaporating. “One of the best on the island. Besides managing this place, she caters special events here on the island.”

      “Wow. I think I remember Theo saying something about the caterer being related to you. Is that your aunt?”

      “If he called her Cecilia Patera, then, yes. She’s really the only woman on the island who cooks for a living. Her moussaka is out of this world. They even serve some of her meze at Stavros’s taverna. You’ve been there?”

      “Only СКАЧАТЬ