The High Price of Secrets

Bringing a salad for tonight’s meal might not be much of a contribution, but she’d make sure it was the best salad Finn Gallagher had ever seen. After picking the salad greens and some early ripe cherry tomatoes, and pulling a couple of fresh radishes from the plot, she took everything inside to wash and drain. Afterward, she went for another brief shower and decided on what to wear tonight. Jeans just felt too casual and she’d already bundled up the skirt and blouse he’d seen her wear on Saturday for recycling—never wanting to ever wear them again. Given her limited options, that pretty much left the purple-and-blue dress she’d worn on Sunday.

Well, why not, she decided, pulling it off the hanger and slipping it on over her head. She loved it and she might as well get the use out of it. She brushed her hair out thoroughly until it crackled beneath the bristles then swept half of it up into a loose knot, leaving the lower section to tumble down her back and over her shoulders. Glancing at herself in the mirror she found herself smiling. Yeah, she liked the effect.

A quick application of the limited cosmetics she’d had in her handbag when she’d boarded the flight to New Zealand and she was ready.

Putting the salad together only took a few minutes and the colorful combination of the vegetables and tomatoes was both appetizing and attractive. A quick glance at the carriage clock on the sideboard in the dining room confirmed it was five minutes to six. Perfect. She covered the bowl with cling wrap and, grabbing her keys from the hall table, she locked up and went out to her car.

Lucy lifted her head briefly from where she lay curled up on one of the wicker chairs at the front.

“I’m off on a hot date, Lucy,” Tamsyn called to her. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do while I’m gone.”

Inside the car, Tamsyn closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to settle her nerves, with little success. Her hand shook slightly as she reached to put her key in the ignition.

This was ridiculous, she thought as she finally managed to insert the key and set the engine to life. It was dinner. That was all. Nothing more. Nothing less. If that was the case, then why did her heart beat so fast and why were her cheeks lit with a flush of anticipation?

Because she was being stupid, she told herself sternly as she guided her car up the hill toward Finn’s residence.

Once again she was struck by the majesty of his home as she pulled up outside. The imposing entrance, with its cathedral style two-story ceiling, made her feel small and insignificant as she got out of her car and started toward the door, bowl in hand. She felt as if she should be bearing a gift of more significance—not merely a salad.

She lifted, then dropped, the heavy iron door knocker and waited. When the door opened, Finn literally took her breath away. Hair still wet from his shower, jeans slung low on his hips, he was still buttoning his shirt, giving her a glimpse of a hard ridged abdomen and a broad muscled chest. Words failed her.

“Sorry, I’m running a bit late, I had a phone call,” he said as he finished his buttoning. “I’m not usually this disorganized. Here, come in.”

“Here’s the salad,” Tamsyn managed to say past a throat that had been temporarily paralyzed with longing.

“Great, it looks delicious. Follow me, I’ll take it through to the kitchen.”

Tamsyn followed behind, noticing that Finn had bare feet that hardly made a sound on the polished wooden floors. God, even his feet were sexy, she thought as her inner muscles clenched involuntarily. She dragged her eyes upward, focusing instead on a point just between his shoulders in an attempt to drag her contrary hormones under some form of control.

“Take a seat while I check on the marinade,” Finn said, gesturing to a set of solid-wood high-backed bar stools at the edge of a large granite breakfast bar.

“Thanks. Do you mind if I take my shoes off?” Tamsyn asked, feeling just a little overdressed.

“Make yourself at home.” He smiled in response before applying his attention to the dish he had on the countertop and turning the meat inside it.

Tamsyn was assailed with the aromas of ginger and garlic and felt her mouth begin to water.

“That smells great,” she commented.

“It’s going to be,” Finn said with a conspiratorial wink that did weird things to her stomach all over again. “Can I offer you a glass of wine?”

“Sure, that’d be nice.”

“Red or white?”

“How about you surprise me,” she answered, all capability of making any rational decisions gone in his company.

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll be back in a minute. Unless you’d like to see my wine cellar?”