The Undoing of de Luca

Ellery whirled on him, suddenly furious. ‘Why do you care?’ she demanded. ‘You’ve been here less than twenty-four hours. You already think my home is a wreck. And,’ she added, real bitterness now spiking her words, ‘I don’t recall ever asking you for advice.’ She turned on her heel—her boots splashing through a rather large puddle and, she noted with satisfaction, spraying mud onto Larenz’s jeans—and stormed back to the house without once looking back at her guest.

Chapter Three

BACK at the house, Ellery rinsed off her boots and lined them up on the stone step outside. Anger still pulsed through her, making her hands tremble as she opened the back door. She was angry with herself for being angry with Larenz; he wasn’t worth the emotional energy she’d already wasted.

Not to mention her physical energy. It was late morning and she hadn’t dealt with the breakfast dishes, or made the beds, or done any of the half-dozen demands that required her attention on any given day.

Stupid, arrogant Larenz de Luca had completely thrown off her day, she thought furiously. He’d thrown more than her day off; he’d unbalanced her whole self, making her see Maddock Manor in a way she tried not to. She kept herself so busy working and trying and striving—all for something she knew she could never gain or keep. And Larenz, with his expensive car and clothes, his smug little smile and knowing eyes, made her realize it afresh every second she spent in his presence.

What was even more aggravating was her body’s treacherous reaction to a man she couldn’t even like. She knew just what kind of man Larenz was, had known it from the moment he’d driven up the lane in his sleek Lexus and tossed the keys on the side table in the foyer as if he owned the place. She’d seen it in the careless way he treated his lover, Amelie, and the way she responded, with a distastefully desperate fawning. And, most damningly of all, she saw it in the way he treated her, with the sweeping, speculative glances and the lazy voice of amusement. He was toying with her and enjoying it. The fact that Ellery’s body reacted at all—betrayed her—was both infuriating and shaming.

‘I’m sorry.’

Ellery whirled around, her thoughts lending the movement a certain fury. Larenz stood in the doorway of the kitchen; he’d removed his boots and there was something almost endearing about seeing him in his socks. One of them sported a hole in the toe.

‘You’re sorry?’ she repeated, as if the words didn’t make sense. They didn’t really, coming from Larenz. It was the last thing she’d expected him to say.

‘Yes,’ he replied quietly. ‘You’re right. I shouldn’t be giving you advice. It’s none of my business.’

Ellery stared at him; his eyes had darkened to navy and he looked both serious and contrite. The sudden about-face disconcerted her, made her wonder about her own assumptions. Now she was left speechless and uncertain, not sure if his words were sincere.

‘Thank you,’ she finally managed stiffly. ‘I’m sorry, as well. It’s not my usual practice to insult my guests.’

A smile quirked Larenz’s mouth and his eyes glinted again, as sparkling and blue as sunlight on the sea. The transformation made Ellery’s insides fizz, and she felt faint with a sudden intense longing that she could not, for the life of her, suppress. It rose up inside her in a consuming wave, taking all her self-righteous anger with it. ‘I’m not really a usual guest, am I?’ he teased softly.

‘A bit more demanding,’ Ellery agreed, and wondered if she was actually flirting.

‘Then I must make up for my deficiencies,’ he replied. ‘How about I make us lunch?’

His suggestion caused another frisson of wary pleasure to shiver through her. Ellery arched her eyebrows. ‘You can actually cook?’

‘A few things.’

She hesitated. They were stepping into new territory now, first with the little flirtatious exchange and now with the idea of Larenz actually making lunch—cooking—for her. Dangerous ground.

Exciting ground. Ellery hadn’t felt so alive in ages, not since she’d first buried herself here in the far reaches of Suffolk, and probably far before that, too. She sucked in a slow breath. ‘All right,’ she finally said, and heard the mingled reluctance and anticipation in her voice. Larenz heard it, too, or she assumed as much from the wicked little smile he gave her.

‘Fantastic. Where are your cooking pots?’

Smiling a little bit, a bubble of laughter threatening to rise up inside her and escape, Ellery showed him where everything was. Within a few minutes he was playing at executive chef, dicing a few tomatoes with surprising agility as a big pot of water bubbled on the stove. Ellery knew she should go upstairs and make the beds, but instead she found herself perched on the edge of the table, watching Larenz move around the kitchen with ease and grace. He was wonderful to watch.