Patrice Andrade had been sitting in her parlor when Luke had barged past her house staff. He’d needed to see the state of her health with his own eyes. She looked significantly older, even though it had been only a month or so since he’d last visited her. She’d ordered him to leave. He’d implored her to listen to him.
Even when a member of her house staff had come to stand beside him, Luke hadn’t given up. He’d begged his mother to give him access to her medical records.
Patrice had risen to her feet and approached Luke. Her softly coifed hair was a harsh contrast to the bitterness that twisted her features. “Look at you. You always were pathetic. Like a dog that comes back no matter how many times I kick it. Weak. Just like your father. I don’t want you here. I don’t need your help. The sight of you sickens me.”
Although Luke had witnessed his mother’s foul temper since childhood, he’d never seen such unveiled ugliness. He told himself it was likely a type of dementia setting in during her illness, but he was sadly familiar with that coldness in her eyes. He’d briefly met the eyes of her butler. The compassion he’d seen there had only made him feel worse.
His brothers had tried to convince him that beneath their mother’s manipulative, harsh exterior there was only bitterness and resentment toward her sons. Luke had never allowed himself to believe them, but her words echoed through him—even here at a funeral.
I’m not my father, a man who hid a family in Venice rather than have the courage to divorce a woman he didn’t love.
As Luke watched the line of mourners pay their respects and move on to speak with Emma’s family, he acknowledged another reason he’d felt compelled to come to this town regardless of the impending weather.
He was searching for something. He hated the consuming anger he felt each time he thought of his mother. A doctor dedicates his life to saving people. Luke couldn’t justify feeling the planet might be better off without his mother.
So far all he’d found were more questions. What kind of son wondered why good people like Emma were taken early while his vile mother remained?
What did he want to find in Defiance? Hope? Evidence of good in the world? Acceptance and concern were etched in the kind faces of the friends and family who had gathered for Emma.
Emma, I resent my mother as much as my brothers do.
What if I am like my father—a fraud?
He hadn’t spoken to Emma in the last month, and he regretted that. All three of his brothers seemed to be getting along, and that should have made Luke happy, but he’d lost his ability to believe it would last.
Signs that it wouldn’t were already appearing.
Just a few days ago, fresh from hearing about Emma’s passing, Luke had received a phone call from his cousin, Maddy. She’d sounded upset about something she’d uncovered about the family. He and Maddy had always been close. She had a big heart, and like him, had always fought to keep the family together.
Lately though, she’d become obsessed with uncovering old family secrets. She’d claimed only the truth had the power to heal whatever had caused a rift between his mother and the rest of the Andrade clan. He’d warned her to leave it alone.
When it came to his family, nothing good came from asking questions. Maddy had wanted to meet with him so she could show him what she’d uncovered. In an act that had been entirely out of character, Luke had refused and hung up on her.
He was done.
He was tired of pretending to be the perfect son, the perfect brother, the perfect cousin.
He’d cleared his schedule and told his office he was taking an extended vacation somewhere far from New York. Emma’s death had shaken him. He hadn’t been her primary doctor. Still, he couldn’t stop thinking he should have stayed more involved. Pushed her to get more testing, more opinions.
Her death and his mother’s obvious declining health were situations where he felt powerless. It wasn’t a feeling he was accustomed to. Nor was the anger that curled his hands into fists at the thought of either.
He needed a break, and he was taking one. As soon as he left the funeral home, he was heading back to the airport. He intended to book the first flight he found to anywhere warm. A week of sun might lift his mood.
Emma, do you remember making me promise I’d visit your town? I should have come while you were here to give me a tour. What was it you wanted me to see?
The lights in the funeral home flickered. A member of Emma’s family stepped up to a podium and said, “Thank you all for coming tonight. We just received news that the storm has worsened. They say there will soon be blizzard conditions, so we’re calling off the gathering at the hall. Go home. Take care of your families. Thank you again for coming out in the snow, and please drive carefully.”
Luke took out his phone and searched the closest airport for flight information. All outgoing flights had been canceled. He turned to the man at his side and said, “What’s the nearest hotel?”
“There are a few just north of town, but if the roads are as bad as they say, you’d be better off staying with someone in town.” The man held up a hand as a thought came to him. “Or at that bed and breakfast—Home Sweet Home. It’s only a couple blocks from here. I bet there are vacancies this time of year.”
“Is that the one owned by . . .?”
“It was bought by a woman from Detroit. Kathy Deider or something like that.”
“Cassandra Daiver?”
“Yes, that’s who owns it. You should try that place. A cousin of mine stayed there. He said the place had been renovated, and the food was great. I hear the owner is quite the looker, too, but she might not be into men because my cousin said she gave him quite the brush-off when he asked her out.”
Luke’s heart started beating double time in his chest. “Thanks for the heads-up.”
Quinn and Beverly crossed the room to Luke. “Dr. Andrade, do you need a place to stay?”
Luke shook his head. He shook Quinn’s hand and gave Beverly a hug. “I found a place in town.”
Beverly looked up at him. “Are you sure you? We have plenty of room.”
“I’m sure.” The last thing Luke wanted to do was spend the night with Emma’s family. He used the excuse of wanting to speak to a few other family members to extricate himself from Beverly and Quinn.
After making his way through the quickly deepening snow in the parking lot, Luke found the number of the bed and breakfast on his phone and called it. He didn’t realize he was holding his breath until Cassandra answered on the third ring.
“Home Sweet Home, may I help you?”
Her voice was low and husky, just as he remembered it. He couldn’t help but wonder how she’d sound when she woke in the morning—beside him. The intensity of his reaction surprised him. It hadn’t been that long since he’d been with a woman, but this was different. Once the thought came to him, it was an impossible image to shake. He cleared his throat. “Do you have a room available for the night?”
He heard her quickly indrawn breath. “May I ask who is calling?”
“Dr. Andrade . . . Luke Andrade. I’m in town for Emma Turner’s wake. I believe we met briefly.”
She seemed to hesitate before saying, “Oh, yes. I remember. There are several large hotels not that far away. Let me see if I can find their numbers for you.”
“So, you’re booked up?”
“No,” she admitted. “But I run a very small bed and breakfast. You’d probably be more comfortable in a hotel.”
“I can sleep anywhere.” Her reluctance to rent him a room was intriguing.
“I bet you can,” she said in a droll tone, then gasped as if her words had surprised her. After a pause, she said, “I do have rooms available. Is it just for one night?”
He flushed at her question, like a schoolboy talking to a pretty girl for the first time. “Unless I find a reason to stay longer.” He groaned. Did I really just say that?
“There isn’t too much to do around here in the winter,” she sai
d quickly.
I have a few ideas. He shook his head. Stop.
“Are you hungry?” she asked.
You have no idea. His eagerness to see her again was unnerving. He wasn’t normally what most would call a spontaneous person. His surgical success relied on scientific discoveries. He based his decisions on experience and empirical evidence, not emotion and instincts. This defied logic, but, damn, it felt good.
Oblivious to where his mind had wandered, Cassandra said, “I was making fresh bread. It would go perfectly with beef stew if you’d like. I’ll have it ready for when you arrive if you tell me when to expect you.”
“Very soon. I believe you’re only a couple blocks away.”
He thought he heard her swear, but she continued on in a professional, friendly tone. “Great. I’ll see you in a few minutes. Do you know the address?”
When he said he didn’t, she quickly provided it and told him to park behind the building. Luke looked out his car’s window for several moments after Cassandra hung up.
There are so many reasons why this is a bad idea.
But consequences be damned.
Consider me officially on vacation.
Chapter Two
Breathe, Cassie told herself as she fluffed the bed pillows in the guest room farthest from her own. He’s a paying customer, no different than any other man who has stayed here before. So what if he’s attractive? He’s here for one night. Then he’s gone.
Feeling calmer, Cassie made her way back to the kitchen. The smell of fresh bread, still warm and wrapped in a towel on the table, blended with the mouthwatering fragrance from the stew heating on the stove. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. During the years she’d lived with her mother and made do with empty cupboards and broken promises, she’d dreamed of places like this.
Home Sweet Home was more than a name she’d chosen for her bed and breakfast. It was a mantra, an ideal she still couldn’t believe she’d achieved.
Not one part of the journey had been easy, but that made every moment even sweeter. Cassie opened her eyes and looked around at the new appliances and pristine counters. I did this. I worked hard, paid for every bit of it myself, and now, if all goes well, I’ll have someone to share it with. She laid her hand gently on her flat stomach. Nothing else matters.
Cassie jumped at the knock on the side door. It swung open, and Luke Andrade stepped inside, his beautiful black hair coated with snow. He quickly closed the door behind him and shook himself off, then shot her a boyish smile that knocked the breath clean out of her.
“Sorry about the floor.”
The floor? Cassie didn’t care about her floor. What woman would when looking into those heavenly dark eyes? She and Luke stood there for a long moment, caught up in each other. He was undeniably the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen. Cassie considered herself moderately attractive, so he was way out of her league. Still, there was a warmth in his expression that made her feel as if he might be thinking exactly the same about her.
Cassie turned away, angry with herself for being tempted. She picked up a towel, walked over to him, and held it out, careful to keep her eyes averted from his. “Here. Dry off. You can hang your coat on the hook by the door.”
He did. “It’s quite a storm out there.”
Cassie pointed at the table she’d set one place for. “Yes, looks like the weatherman was wrong. Shocker. Have a seat. Everything’s ready.”
He hesitated. “Did you already eat?”
Cassie filled a bowl with steaming broth and heaps of vegetables and meat. “No, but I’m fine.” Her stomach growled, betraying her.
“Cassandra . . .”
Without turning away from the stove, Cassie corrected him. “Call me Cassie.” Cassandra sounded stuffy and unapproachable. It didn’t fit her. Nor did her mother’s nickname for her: Cat. Jade Daiver loved to brag that her daughter had been born a survivor with an uncanny ability to land on her feet. It was a name Cassie had once tried to live up to. She’d become street-smart because she’d had to. She could take a punch because she’d been punched. But she chose to be softer . . . in her life and in her name.
“Cassie, join me.” His voice was a caress of its own.
There was nothing suggestive or inappropriate about his request, but Cassie tensed. She wanted to say yes. The day had been an emotional one for her, and she didn’t like how she felt around this man. Every inch of her was aware of his proximity. She didn’t like feeling out of control. Cassie placed the bowl along with slices of warm bread on the table and turned away again. “I don’t normally eat with my guests. Would you like coffee or something cool to drink?”
“Look at me.” He’d said the words so softly Cassie thought she had imagined them at first. She raised her eyes to the triangle of his tie. “Are you okay having me here?”
No. Cassie kept her first response to herself. She forced a smile to her lips and said, “Of course. I run a bed and breakfast. Having guests is what I do.” She turned away and busied herself by pouring a glass of water for him. She placed it beside his bowl of stew then retreated a short distance away. “Eat before everything gets cold.”
He continued to stand beside the table. “I will . . . when you join me.”
“I already told you I don’t normally—”
“There is nothing normal about any of this, and I think you realize it too.”
His velvet voice sent shivers through her. There was boldness in the way he looked at her, as if he had no doubt how the night would end. That made her angry but was also deliciously sexy. She frowned and met his eyes angrily. She needed to put an end to it.
Sleeping with a man like Dr. Luke Andrade had zero chance of leading anywhere good. He could be married. And even if he was single, he was only passing through. I don’t need a one-night stand.
And I don’t need the disappointment of watching how fast he’ll run if I tell him I may be pregnant.
She met his eyes and said, “I’m pleased to provide a room for you tonight and feed you, but that’s the extent of the services offered here.”
“So, no sex after the stew?”
Cassie opened her mouth to say something cutting in response, but paused when she saw the twinkle of amusement in those luscious dark eyes. He was playful in a way she hadn’t expected, and she didn’t like how it made her like him more. “Exactly.”
He let out a long, belabored sigh. “Well, we’ve cleared that up; now you can sit down and eat with me with full confidence that I have no expectations outside of conversation.”
Folding her arms across her chest, Cassie held back stubbornly. Joining him was a dangerous first step toward giving in to the fantasy that anything between them was possible. “I’m serious.”
Luke took his seat and picked up a spoon. “I admire your honesty. It can’t be easy to take strangers into your home, especially men you don’t know. I understand why you have rules about dining with guests, but today was a long day—for both of us. Sit down. I don’t believe you want to eat alone tonight any more than I do.”
His comment made Cassie feel foolish about how she’d openly proclaimed she wouldn’t sleep with him. What if he hadn’t even been thinking about her that way? He’s a doctor. He’s gorgeous. He can probably have any woman he wants. No wonder he looks so amused. I am such an idiot.
Without saying a word, Cassie filled a second bowl with stew and sat down across the table from him. She cut a slice of bread, buttered it without saying a word, and told herself to stop overreacting. Part of owning a bed and breakfast was being a good host. Normally it was a role she enjoyed. He’d flown in for a funeral. It was natural he wouldn’t want to be alone. He might be really hurting. She frowned down at her food without taking a bite. “Did you know Emma very well?”
“Depends what you consider very well. I removed a tumor, but I wasn’t her primary doctor. If she had been anyone else I may not have seen her again after the surgery, but we stayed in touch. I’ll miss her.”
>
Cassie pushed a potato around her bowl. “I wish I had met her. I moved here after she left, but I feel like I knew her. I’ve spoken to so many people about her. I’ll miss her, too, even if that sounds crazy.”
“It doesn’t. The Turners told me their daughter had inspired your move here. Emma would have liked that.”
They ate in silence for a few minutes. “So, you’re a surgeon in New York City. That sounds exciting.”
Luke gave her a small smile. “I used to think so.”
There was something in his tone that resonated through Cassie. She met his eyes again and couldn’t look away. She was right; he was hurting. What surprised her was it seemed to be about more than the passing of his friend. “Is your family in New York?”
A pained expression darkened Luke’s face. “Yes.”
Cassie understood that feeling well. “Family isn’t easy.”
“No, it’s not.” Luke sighed. “How about you? Are you close with yours?”
Emotion clogged Cassie’s throat. She’d left behind her old life and everyone in it. “I don’t have any family.”
Luke rubbed a hand across his forehead. “You’re probably lucky. I have three brothers who have spent most of their lives fighting. It’s—”
“Exhausting.” Cassie finished his sentence naturally. That’s how loving her mother had been.
Luke smiled. “Yes. I’ve always smoothed over their arguments—encouraged them to forgive each other. But lately . . .”
Cassie laid her spoon down beside her bowl and leaned forward. “You started asking yourself who you would be without them. Who they would be without you. And if it’s okay to be selfish enough to want to find out.”
Luke’s mouth opened and closed in surprise. Then he said, “Yes.”
Without thinking, Cassie placed her hand on one of his. “It is. You deserve happiness just as much as they do.” That simple touch sent a jolt through Cassie, and she pulled her hand back quickly and stood. “I’ll get the key to your room.”