wedding." Grace worked quickly, competently as she spoke. Draining crisp
potatoes, adding more to the sizzling oil. "It was such a beautiful
wedding," she went on as she mixed sauce for the meat in a bowl.
"Came off all right. We got lucky with the weather."
"Oh, it couldn't have rained that day. It would have been a sin." She
could see it all again, so clearly. The green of the grass in the
backyard, the sparkling of water. The flowers Anna had planted glowing
with color--and the ones she'd bought spilling out of pots and bowls
alongside the white runner that the bride had walked down to meet her
groom.
A white dress billowing, the thin veil only accentuating the dark,
deliriously happy eyes. Chairs had been filled with friends and family.
Anna's grandparents had both wept. And Cam--rough-and-tumble Cameron
Quinn--had looked at his bride as if he'd just been given the keys to
heaven.
A backyard wedding, Grace thought now. Sweet, simple, romantic. Perfect.
"She's the most beautiful woman I've ever seen." Grace said it with a
sigh that was only lightly touched with envy. "So dark and exotic."
"She suits Cam."
"They looked like movie stars, all polished and glossy." She smiled to
herself as she stirred spicy sauce into the meat. "When you and Phillip
played that waltz for their first dance, it was the most romantic thing
I've ever seen." She sighed again as she finished putting the salad
together. "And now they're in Rome. I can hardly imagine it."
"They called yesterday morning to catch me before I left. They said
they're having a good time."
She laughed at that, a rippling, smoky sound that seemed to cruise along
his skin. "Honeymooning in Rome? It would be hard not to." She started
to scoop out more potatoes and swore lightly as oil popped and
splattered on the side of her hand. "Damn." Even as she was lifting the
slight burn to her mouth to soothe it, Ethan leaped forward and grabbed
her hand.
"Did it get you?" He saw the pinkening skin and pulled her to the sink.
"Run some cold water on it."
"It's nothing. It's just a little burn. Happens all the time."
"It wouldn't if you were more careful." His brows were knitted, his hand
gripping her fingers firmly to keep her hand under the stream of water.
"Does it hurt?"
"No." She couldn't feel anything but his hand on her fingers and her own
heart thundering in her chest. Knowing she'd make a fool of herself any
moment, she tried to pull free. "It's nothing, Ethan. Don't fuss."
"You need some salve on it." He started to reach up into the cupboard to
find some, and his head lifted. His eyes met hers. He stood there, the
water running, both of their hands trapped under the chilly fall of it.
He tried never to stand quite so close to her, not so close that he
could see those little gold dust flecks in her eyes. Because he would
start to think about them, to wonder about them. Then he'd have to
remind himself that this was Grace, the girl he'd watched grow up. The
woman who was Aubrey's mother. A neighbor who considered him a trusted
friend.