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“We’re lucky they bloom most of the year,” Mrs. Hearst said with a smile. “The wedding is just in time to use it. Probably the last outdoor event we’ll enjoy until spring. We do get a bit of snow up here in the mountains during December and January. Despite only being a two-hour drive from the ocean.”
“That’s part of the beauty of living in California,” Mr. Hearst spoke up across the table just as dessert—crèmebrûlée—arrived. Served by stately Reginald in a crisp white shirt and cufflinks. “We get every kind of weather.”
Jenna leaned in to whisper, “The cook makes this himself. You will eat so good this week that you’ll put on ten pounds, minimum.”
Caitey grinned. “I’ve been forewarned.”
When she glanced up, she noticed that Marcus was stealing glances at her. He’d been doing that most of the dinner hour.
The man seemed nice enough, but she after the scare he gave her, she was uncertain of how she felt about him. And she still only knew a little about his background. But the attraction was definitelythere.
Caitey touched her spoon to thedessert to break the crackly glazed crust. Taking dainty bites to make it last longer, she closed her eyes at the cuisine’s excellence. Better than any restaurant.
When she swallowed, Marcus caught her eye again and smiled at her. He raised his spoonful of crèmebrûlée in a toast toward her, and Caitey wished she could smother the tingling sensation of attraction running down her spine.
There was something there—some sort of connection—but she was determined not to give in to it. Marcus Stirling was still an unknown quantity, and there were secrets in his chocolate-brown eyes.
Did she want to know more? Or was that entirely too risky?
CHAPTER 10
MARCUS
When Marcus woke up the following morning, he found himself tangled in his sheets, one leg hanging over the edge of the bed. He’d slept poorly—which was an understatement.
Weird and crazy dreams all night long. He kept mixing up Caitey withthat womanfrom his past. Why was his subconscious doing that?
Caitey was beautiful and exciting. A little shy . . . No, not shy. She was a bit standoffish. Well, that wasn’t it, either. He was having a tough time defining her.
During the time they’d spent at the Coffee Loft, there was a wariness about her despite him trying to put her at ease. He’d failed when he exposed his presence in the woods by staring at her like a weird stalker. He had to work harder now to earn her trust.
When he spotted Caitey’s pure, innocent beauty, her pale skin and dark hair . . . He’d halted like someone had shocked him with an electric wire. And after gazing at her superb and sexy legs, he’d lost his breath for a moment.
That kind of attraction terrified him, too. He was afraid of losing his heart again to the wrong woman. He hadn’t been in any sort of relationship since Shelley.
Attending weddings was the worst. He was only here at the estate because of Logan. He’d do anything for this family. After all, they were like family to him—more than that since they took him in when his parents had a nasty divorce. While his mother worked full-time and tried to keep the household functioning, Marcus was often on his own.
Mr. and Mrs. Hearst often told him he was like a second son.
A knock came at his door, and he finally rolled over and staggered to his feet.
When he cracked it open, Logan was standing on the threshold wearing running shorts and a sweatshirt. “You ready?” he asked.
Marcus blinked. “Ready for what?”
“Our morning run?” Logan furrowed his brow. “Hey, you okay? Are you sick? Because you look pretty terrible.”
Marcus rubbed his eyes, fighting the magnet of sleep. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, bro. Just one of those rough nights.” He shrugged while Logan gave him a sympathetic look. “It happens sometimes.”
“Are you referring to your past life as a Navy SEAL or something else?”
“Can I plead the Fifth?” He paused and gave a sardonic smile. “Or all the above? Let me throw on my shorts, and I’ll meet you by the back door.”
Logan gave a thumbs-up. “I’ll grab my running shoes. See you in the rear gardens. We’ll run the perimeter and check the cameras.”
“Sounds good.”
Marcus burst out from a side door connecting a hallway to the kitchen three minutes later and jogged to the rear gardens. Flowers continued to hang on to their stems, but he noticed that some of the bushes had started to shift into winter hibernation. Petals had begun to drop. This wasn’t warm and mild Arizona, after all.
