Linda Johnston - Operation - Reunited

But she liked having someone around who was here just because he wanted to be. As if this place were still an innocent inn.

As long as she was the only one Vane threatened, she wouldn’t insist that John leave. But if the threats were ever leveled at the man she had encouraged to come here, she would get him out. Fast.

“I’ll hold you responsible if any of the other guests feel uncomfortable with your friend, Alexa.”

Vane’s icy frown made her want to cringe, and she was relieved when he pivoted and left the kitchen.

Alexa put down the tray for a moment and sagged against the center island. Her legs were shaking. Damn! This was no way to live.

She wouldn’t live this way much longer, she promised herself. As soon as she had what she needed to protect her parents and herself, she would escape.

Alexa would have sacrificed herself, and even her parents, if it would have done a damn bit of good. But it wouldn’t. Vane had made that clear.

She picked up the tray once more and entered the dining room. Vane had joined some guests across the room and didn’t even glance her way. Alexa served Jill Fuller a bowl of steaming soup first, Ed second and John last.

“This smells great,” John said. “What kind is it?” She told him. He turned to his dinner companions. “Have you ever eaten tortilla soup before? I’m not sure what Bolivian cuisine is like.”

Ed Fuller appeared confused by John’s question. Patiently, John rephrased it. Jill was the one to reply, but Alexa didn’t hear her answer.

“Ms. Kenner?” called a less heavily accented voice. Another guest, a few tables away, was holding up an empty wineglass. It was obvious what the man with the wrinkled face and demanding voice wanted, but Vane, seated at an adjoining table, just nodded curtly toward Alexa. Hiding her annoyance, she hurried to refill the customer’s glass.

Alexa was too busy after that to do more than catch snatches of the conversation at John’s table.

“This is a soup spoon,” John said once, holding up the utensil. “This is a teaspoon.” The others at his table repeated the names.

He was teaching them English!

What did Alexa expect from a personable salesman? A former exchange student who could empathize with people who didn’t understand the language in a strange country.

Several of Vane’s guests spoke English well. Many didn’t. Alexa suspected they all were terrorists, just like the last time. She had learned that after the fact, during the horror following Cole’s death.

She had recognized the possibility this time, as soon as Vane started bringing in his own guests—all together, all foreign, all with identification that didn’t seem to fit. But for the moment, there wasn’t anything she could do about it—not without wrecking her parents’ lives. What was left of her own, too.

She needed Vane’s damn file.

She would find it. And more… Soon.

A short while later, Alexa prepared to bring a serving of chile rellenos to John and his companions. She glanced down at the plates. The filled chile peppers were mounded with spicy Mexican-style rice and covered with sizzling cheese.

John had claimed he liked spicy foods. If he didn’t, that fact would come out now.

When she brought out the steaming dish, John was leaning over, conversing with two older men at the next table. It wasn’t enough for him to make friends with the Fullers. He was branching out.

“And what brings you to Skytop Lake?” he asked the closer of the two.

“Ah…pleasure.” The white-haired man with an underslung jaw had almost no accent. “I am here on holiday.”

“And you’re on vacation, too?” John said to the other man. “Where are you from?”

“New York” was the curt, precise reply that belied the answer. “Here comes your meal,” the thin, wrinkled man added, looking toward Alexa.

John turned toward her, as she put the plate in front of him. “This looks wonderful,” he told her. He inhaled deeply. “Smells wonderful, too.”

“It is wonderful,” she replied. “You’d better enjoy it.”

He grinned and used his fork to cut off a hefty piece. He took a bite. She expected his eyes to water, but they didn’t. She felt her eyebrows lift. Even her eyes watered when she had tasted the meal in the kitchen, and she was a true aficionado of spicy foods.

“It’s great!” John said, and took another mouthful.

So what if he’d bought a mild salsa at the gourmet food shop? He obviously liked things hot.

Cole had liked things hot, too….

Alexa glanced around the room. Vane was staring at them. She didn’t like the fractious gleam in his eye.

She escaped into the kitchen, greeting the eager Phantom, who wriggled behind his gate, with a quick pat before she washed her hands again.

When John had finished and signed for his meal, she expected him to go into the parlor with Vane and the rest of the guests. Instead, he joined her in the kitchen.

“You look as though you could use some help. How about a dishwasher? I work cheap.”

“How cheap?”

“You can’t get cheaper than free.”

“But—” Before she could voice any objections, he had tied a plain, lace-free apron around his waist and dug into the pile of dishes mounded in and around the sink. “You don’t need to get them spotless,” she said resignedly. “Just scrape the visible food off and pile them into the dishwasher.”

“Good. I have to admit, I’m not the world’s best dishwasher, only its best home improvements salesman.”

“And bull thrower.” She felt her mouth quirk into a grin.

“Ah, you were listening in on some of my conversations in the dining room,” he said with an arch smile. “I thought so.”

As usual in his presence, Alexa flushed. “You don’t want me to have eavesdropped. If I did, I’d know how nosy you are.”

“Nosy? Me?” The tone of his deep voice feigned hurt.

“I heard more questions from you than on a TV game show.”

“I’m darn good at games,” he said with a raise of one straight, dark brow and a roguish curve to his lips.

“I’ll bet you are.” Had he meant the suggestive undercurrent to his words? Alexa was nearly certain he had.

How was she going to get through the rest of the evening here, with this man interrupting her work, her thoughts? Her kitchen was large, but his presence made it seem as tiny as his bedroom.

Hadn’t she thought only a few minutes before how foolish it was for a married woman to flirt with another man in front of her husband? Whether she liked it or not, Alexa was engaged. Her fiancé was in the next room.

She glanced at the ring that weighed her hand down as if the stone it held was lead rather than a huge diamond. She didn’t dare end the engagement yet. It would be playing with fire for her to defy Vane…now.

She would be playing with fire by flirting with John.

She couldn’t exactly throw him out bodily. Nor did she want to touch that substantial body to try…did she? He wore navy trousers with his lighter blue shirt, and they looked great on him. His movements with the dirty dishes were decisive but deft. She had no fear that he’d fumble and drop them, despite the large size of his hands.

What would it feel like to have those hands stroking her…?

Why was she thinking such thoughts?

Whatever else Vane was, he had been a gentleman about not pushing her to have sex when she wanted nothing to do with him. And she’d wanted nothing at all to do with him for the months since he had seized control of their inn.

But John had reminded her of Cole. The very recollection of Cole dredged up yearning, libidinous feelings that she had kept hidden deep inside for ages.

Forcing her thoughts back to reality, she continued cleaning, trying to pretend John wasn’t there. That was hard to do, as he helped her stack dishes in the industrial-size dishwasher.