Tamed by her Brooding Boss

‘Help yourself,’ she said, taking a seat across the table from him.

He smiled as he looked at the food, and sniffed the air appreciatively. ‘Mmm,’ he murmured, ladling soup from the tureen into his bowl. ‘This smells appetising—like home-cooked vegetables in a rich, meaty broth.’ He dipped his spoon in the soup and tasted the mixture, his eyes widening in surprise. ‘Ah … this is wonderful. I don’t think I’ve ever tasted anything quite like it.’

‘Well, I’m glad to hear it—though if you’re that hungry, I expect anything would taste good right now.’ She grinned. ‘Although I did spend a good deal of yesterday evening getting it ready.’

His dark brows rose, and he looked at her dubiously, as though he expected to see her nose grow like Pinocchio’s had whenever he’d told a lie. ‘You’re kidding me,’ he said in astonishment. ‘You, spending time in a kitchen? I can scarcely believe it. As I recall, you’d sooner grab a burger or a baguette or stick something in the microwave so that you could be on your way. Wherever did you learn to cook?’

‘Oh, here and there. It turned out to be a bit of a necessity once I was on my own.’ She laughed. ‘To be honest, I soon got very tired of convenience food and decided I needed to buy a cook book.’ She helped herself to salad, adding grated cheese to her plate alongside the ham.

‘You certainly look good on whatever it is you’ve been eating these last few years.’ His glance trailed over her. ‘You’ve filled out—as I recall, you were a skinny little thing with flyaway hair that was forever coming loose from the pins, or whatever it was you used to keep it in place.’

Her mouth made a brief, crooked slant. ‘Not much change with the hair, then.’ She’d brushed it before leaving the house, securing it in a topknot as best she could, and even now she could feel silky strands parting company with the clips.

She bent her head and pretended to be absorbed with her meal. He’d called her skinny. No wonder he’d not even looked at her the way she’d hoped for back then when she’d been seventeen. Warm colour filled her cheeks. Skinny. He’d made a twosome with Chloe, the daughter of the local innkeeper—she’d had curves aplenty, along with golden hair and dreamy blue eyes. She’d seen them having lunch together at a pub, and his defection had been the final straw to a love-starved teenager. She’d vowed then she would get away from the village and leave James far behind.

And yet now she was sharing a meal with him in her fading, love-starved cottage. She must be mad.

She gathered her composure and forced herself to look at him once more. ‘I made another pot of tea—would you like a cup?’ She was already reaching for the teapot.

He nodded. ‘Thanks. That would be great.’ He was staring absentmindedly at the plate of gingerbread men. Some had bits of leg missing, or half an arm, and that made him smile. ‘They smell good—more wounded soldier than fighting men, I’d guess,’ he said.

‘Oh, yes. They’re Sam’s addition to the feast. He’s always in too much of a hurry to bother with perfection.’

He frowned. ‘Sam—so there’s someone else, as well as Murray? Your life must be getting quite complicated.’

‘Yes.’ She glanced at him and said quietly, ‘Perhaps you haven’t heard what happened to my father and Tracy?’ It had been a terrible shock, and she had never felt more alone in her life when she’d heard the news of their accident.

‘Something happened to them?’ His expression was suddenly serious, and Sarah nodded unhappily.

‘They were caught up in a road-traffic accident.’ She pressed her lips together briefly. ‘Unfortunately their injuries were serious and they died almost instantly.’

He drew in a sharp breath, his features taut. ‘I didn’t know. I’m so sorry, Sarah. That must have been awful for you.’

‘It was. It was a difficult time.’ She closed her eyes fleetingly, resting a hand on the table, unable to concentrate on anything for that moment, while her mind was lost in the memory of those dreadful weeks when the world as she’d known it had come to a standstill.

His fingers closed over hers, in a comforting gesture that brought her back to the present and made her look up into his dark eyes.

‘Did you have friends to support you?’

‘Thankfully, yes.’

‘I’m glad. I wish I could have been there for you.’

‘Thank you.’ She sent him a gentle smile. ‘But I coped. The biggest problem for me back then was what to do about Sam and Rosie, of course … my half-brother and half-sister. Sam’s ten years old, and Rosie’s eight.’ She frowned. ‘I think you might have seen Sam when he was a baby … at the wedding reception of a mutual friend. Anyway, they both live with me now.’

‘But … surely there was some other relative who could have taken them in? An uncle and aunt, perhaps?’ He looked shocked. ‘How can it be that you’re looking after them?’

Her shoulders lifted. ‘There’s no one else, so they’re my responsibility now. That’s why we moved back here, so that I could take up this new job and hopefully keep a roof over our heads.’

He shook his head, a perplexed expression on his face. ‘I’d no idea, none at all.’

‘Why would you?’ she said quietly.

They finished their meal and James helped her to clear away. It was plain to see he was stunned by what she had told him, and later, when he was getting ready to leave, he said, ‘You’ve taken on something that others would baulk at, you know.’ His features relaxed. ‘But somehow I might have expected it of you. You were always up for a challenge, weren’t you?’ His mouth twisted. ‘Let’s hope this one doesn’t turn and bite back.’

CHAPTER THREE

‘HOW are you feeling today, Nicola?’ James picked up his patient’s chart and then moved to the bedside where he gave the woman an engaging smile.