Harlequin Romantic Suspense April 2021 Karen Whiddon (best fiction books to read TXT) 📖

herself a moment to soak in the trees, the lake, the star-splattered sky. Nature had always given her peace and she didn’t think the term “forest bathing” was so far-fetched. As if the trees heard her, a softer breeze swept down, and she heard the gentle scrape of branches against each other. It was the closest thing to lighting a candle and sending up a prayer, and right now, her spirit needed it.

Because when it involved Stanton, she couldn’t trust her instinct. There were too many layers of emotion, so much complicated history between them. Yet as she stood in the quiet night, the one thought that kept circling her brain seemed to slip down to her heart.

Maybe it’s okay to enjoy the moment, whatever it brings.

CHAPTER 10

Stanton made certain Dominique was back inside before he went to his room. He took his time, needing things to be perfect for her. He’d bought some of his own supplies and had them rung up while Dominique was still picking out produce. The candles were her favorite scent—jasmine.

He knew he was a hopeless romantic. His family never ceased teasing him about how he’d wooed women through college, always insisting on bringing flowers to a date. But his father had set a good example. Frank Colton never took his wife for granted, not that Italia would let him. Not for the first time Stanton thought about how much he and Dominique seemed to parrot his parents’ relationship; they both were two strong-willed people with their own lives and careers, finding common ground.

But it had blown apart all because he’d let his emotions drive the boat that day he’d ridiculously proposed to her. Her refusal, his pain, followed by her hasty departure, had left a hole in his heart, and from what she’d admitted and how she’d reacted these past few days, Dominique had experienced her share of heartache and regret, too.

Tonight could be a way for them to leave one another with a lasting, loving memory. He wasn’t the same foolish man he’d been two years ago. He knew this wasn’t the start of anything with Dominique. But he did want a better ending with the one woman who’d ever stolen his heart. He only hoped she’d accept this last gift from him.

* * *

“I’m not used to someone else cooking for me.”

Dominique tried to keep her cool as she made their meal. With Stanton sitting at his parents’ kitchen island, his enigmatic charisma sucked her in deeper with each moment they spent together. He’d been correct about his bullet wound; it was nothing more than a graze. It didn’t matter to Dominique because as far as she was concerned, he’d taken a bullet for her. Had he not reacted as quickly as he had, getting her to the ground, she might not be here. A shiver ran through her at the thought, and she focused on mixing roasted garlic into butter.

“I’m waving the BS flag on that one. Your mother cooks for you whenever you visit.”

“Which, if you heard her giving me grief last night, hasn’t been in a while.”

She smeared a baguette cut crosswise with the mixture. “Your parents understand that their kids have their own lives.”

“Yours don’t?”

“Please.” She raised her brow. “You’re living proof that my father can’t stay out of my life.” Satisfied with the garlic bread, she turned the state-of-the-art oven’s broiler on, slid the bread onto a sheet and then under the blue flames. “I love my father, he’s the best. And in this case, he was right to trust his fatherly instincts. It’s unfortunate that I’ve worried him, yet again. This isn’t the first time he’s worried about a story I’m working on.” And reason number one she’d thought she didn’t want her own family, at least not children. She never wanted them to feel stifled by her overprotectiveness, or to not go after their dreams because of what they thought were her wishes.

“I think once you become a parent, that’s it. There’s no longer a way of ever turning the spigot off. A parent’s love is unconditional.” He sounded wistful and she took a long look at him. He sat with his uninjured arm on the granite top, his gaze flitting from the basketball game on the elevated, muted television in the far corner of the kitchen, to her, to the meal she prepared. In this moment it was impossible to remember all the reasons she’d convinced herself they’d split. Before she said something stupid, she grabbed the salad greens and began chopping. A buzzer sounded and she pulled the bread out, its top perfectly browned.

“That smells incredible.”

“At least I didn’t burn it this time.” The time she’d charred garlic bread in her apartment had been one for the record books.

“Yeah, we don’t want the Grave Gulch FD showing up out here tonight.”

“I was mortified, in case I never admitted it back then.”

“It was the first time you made dinner for me.”

“I’m surprised you ever let me cook for you again.” She placed the salad aside and tended to the shellfish she had steaming on the stove top. “We’re just about ready here.”

“Bring it.” Cioppino, an Italian seafood dish of broth over mussels, clams, octopus and scallops, was their main course. When they’d stopped at the small grocery on the way here, there had been a plethora of fresh shellfish and she’d impulsively decided to prepare the recipe she remembered as Stanton’s favorite. They’d both agreed that they were together for only as long as it took her to get her story, or GGPD to arrest Pablo Jimenez, eliminating the threat to her life. What would it matter to make the same meal they’d enjoyed several times when they’d dated?

“I’ve set the table.” She’d helped herself to Italia’s bounty of cheerily printed table linens while Stanton had showered.

“We could have eaten at the island.”

“Are you that into the basketball game?”

“No, not at all. I didn’t want you to go to all of this trouble.