Free Harlequin Romance April 2015 Box Set by Jennifer Faye and Kate Hardy Jessica Gilmore Michelle Douglas Page B

point.
    She suddenly laughed. ‘I can see you’re itching to check it out, so go. But wash your hands first. I don’t want dog hair in my reduction.’
    He raced into the kitchen. He washed and dried his hands and then moved to the small saucepan sitting on the stovetop.He could tell at a glance that she’d used too much onion. He lifted the saucepan to his nose and sniffed. It was a pity about the tarragon vinegar—if she was happy to continue this experiment of theirs then they’d need to stock up on some of the more exotic ingredients—but all in all she’d done okay. The tension bled out of his shoulders.
    She glanced up when he stepped back out onto the veranda.‘Well?’
    ‘You’ve done a fine job. It’s not exactly how I’d want it, which tells me what parts of my instructions I need to fine-tune.’
    Elation suddenly coursed through him. He could make this work. He
could
! Then there’d be enough money for Ethan’s hospital bills for the foreseeable future.
    And after that?
    He pushed that thought away. He had every intention of making sure Ethanwas looked after for the rest of his life. Maybe he could do a whole series of cookbooks if this one sold well?
    ‘This was a brilliant idea of yours, Jo. I can’t thank you enough.’
    She waved that away.
    ‘If there’s anything I can do in return...?’
    She glanced up. The sage in her eyes deepened for a moment. ‘I believe you mean that.’
    ‘I
do
mean it.’ He’d have sat on the benchbeside her, but that would mean sitting with the left side of his face towards her. He leant against the railing again instead.
    ‘Hold that thought.’
    She disappeared into the house. She returned a moment later with a picture. His heart sank when she handed it to him. It was that damned
macaron
tower she’d already mentioned.
    ‘
Macarons
are tricky.’
    ‘Yes, but could you write mea recipe telling me how to make them—how to make that?’
    He blew out a breath. ‘This is an advanced recipe.’
    ‘But practice makes perfect, right? I have plenty of time on my hands. I’ll just keep practising.’
    ‘Why do you want to make a
macaron
tower?’ He could name a hundred tastier desserts.
    He handed her back the picture. She took it, but a bad taste stretched through him whenhe realised how careful she was not to touch him.
    She stared down at the picture before folding it in half. ‘My grandmother turns eighty-five in two months, one week, four days and—what?—eleven hours twenty minutes? I’ve promised to make her one of these.’
    Wow.
    ‘I want to do something nice for her.’
    ‘Nice’ would be taking her flowers, or treating her to lunch at a decent restaurant.
Or making her a
macaron
tower
.
    ‘Please, Mac, don’t look like that! This
has
to be possible. I’m not that much of a klutz in the kitchen. This is something I can build up to.’
    ‘Of course you can.’
    ‘He says with fake jollity,’ she said, so drily he had to laugh.
    ‘I didn’t mean that you can’t do it. I’m just blown away by the fact you
want
to.’
    ‘I love my grandmother. I wantto do something that will make her happy. She’s as fit as a horse, and as sharp as a tack, but she’s still coming up to eighty-five.’
    She rose and seized the other half of her peanut butter and honey sandwich and came to lean beside him on the railing, on his left side. He turned to stare out to sea, giving her his right side instead.
    ‘My grandmother and my great-aunt raised me. Theirrelationship has always been tempestuous. My grandmother always praised me and indulged me. My great-aunt always thought it in my best interests to...um...not to do that.’
    He stilled and glanced at her, but he couldn’t read her face.
    ‘There’s an ongoing dispute over the rightful ownership of my great-grandmother’s pearl necklace. My great-aunt scoffed at the idea of my making that
macaron
tower and I’m afraid my grandmother has staked the pearl necklace on the fact that I can.’
    His