Free Breathe by Donna Alward Page A

her.
    She bit down on her lower lip, still tasting him there. No. It was impossible.
    She didn’t know what had possessed him and she’d been unable to utter a single word after she’d gotten out of the car. There was too much to say and so she’d been unable to say anything at all.
    She formed the meat into a rectangle and put it in a pan, then washed her hands before sliding the dish into the oven to bake. If wishes were horses and all that. A family wasn’t what Jace had wanted then and it still wasn’t. She only had to look around this place to see that. So why had he kissed her? Especially now, when she was a widow with two small children he’d never wanted? Was he playing with her feelings? She didn’t want to believe it. But what else was she supposed to think? He had to know she wouldn’t take such a thing lightly.
    Maybe she should. It was only a kiss after all.
    But there wasn’t such a thing as just a kiss with Jace. She sighed. Maybe she should just go back to the Island. She still had her job and the house.
    But the very thought made her stomach curl with anxiety. Her father with his long looks and pronouncements. Stefano’s family. Stefano’s mistress . And all the whispers behind the hands of their friends and associates. All the sympathetic faces and words of condolence about a senseless tragedy when none of them knew the truth. She picked up a peeler and began viciously peeling potatoes. No, she couldn’t face that again. She didn’t know what her life was, or what it would become, but she knew it wasn’t that.
    The door opened and shut and she held her breath. What could she say to Jace now? She didn’t want to talk about the kiss, and she didn’t want to talk about that day ,the one single day in her life that had changed everything. She definitely didn’t want to talk about Stefano. Yet they couldn’t continue on for long the way they were.
    â€œYou’re cooking?”
    She tried a smile. “It’s been known to happen a time or two.”
    His face relaxed slightly. “You have people for that,” he teased.
    â€œMy father has people,” she corrected. She held out an olive branch. “I thought I’d make polpettone .”
    â€œNo one makes polpettone like…” Eagerly he went to the oven and opened the door a crack, eyeing the Italian version of meatloaf.
    â€œFrancesca.” She named the cook the Morellis had employed while she and Alex were growing up. “I know. It’s her recipe.”
    â€œIt is?” He shut the oven door and straightened, staring at her hard.
    â€œI did stay in touch with her, you know, after she retired. She gave me her recipe. Also showed me her secret to potato puree.”
    â€œYou surprise me.”
    The words warmed her. It was nice that for once she wasn’t completely predictable. “I’ll take that as a compliment. Though I can’t guarantee it will taste like hers. I would never presume to aspire to such heights.”
    He wiggled his eyebrows. “I often ate it cold.”
    â€œYes, you always claimed it was better the second day.”
    He smiled as the memory drew them together. It was a genuine smile, and her heart caught.
    â€œJace,” she began, putting down the potato and drying her hands on a towel. She desperately wanted to put things back on a practical footing. “I’m sorry we’ve put you in this position. I was feeling so stifled that I needed to get away, and I just descended on you without warning. I think…I think I was afraid you’d say no if I asked first. I’m glad you’ve decided to let me repay you by helping with the guesthouse.”
    The kitchen was quiet, only the distant sounds of the television marring the perfect peace.
    â€œIt is very hard to say no to you.” The admission was soft and telling.
    â€œIt wasn’t always.” The answer came automatically