Page 94 of Over the Edge

“Yes.” She picked it up off the counter and slid it into the oven. “You seem to be familiar with some of the intricacies of baking.”

“I learned to cook long ago. By necessity. These days I do it for fun on weekends. Nothing on the scale of a professional like you.”

“Why did you have to learn to cook?”

He took a slow sip of his hot chocolate. “It’s a long story. I don’t mind telling it to you, but why don’t we finish your pie first?”

We?

He wanted to help with that too?

A little shiver of pleasure rippled through her at his offer, which was odd. Cooking solo had always been her preference.

But the idea of having a partner in the kitchen was suddenly oh-so-appealing.

“If you’re certain you want to help.”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t.”

“Okay. Then let’s do this.” She sampled her own hot chocolate and positioned the recipe for him to see. “I’ll put the pumpkin, brown sugar, and eggs on the counter. You can measure them and whisk everything together while I get the rest of the ingredients out.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

As he went to work and she began collecting the spices, cream, and milk, it was clear Jack was at home in the kitchen. She didn’t have to tell him to pack the brown sugar, or remind him to be precise in his measurements, or show him how to whisk.

“You’re good at this.” She pulled the cream from the fridge and started back to the island.

He hiked up one side of his mouth. “Thanks. That’s quite a compliment, coming from a pro. How did you become a chef, anyway? Did you follow in the footsteps of someone in your family?”

She froze at the innocent but loaded question.

While Madeleine had gleaned bits and pieces of her background, only Clair knew the whole story.

Yet all at once she was tempted to share it with the handsome detective whose calm demeanor, quiet competence, and caring manner had helped her navigate the turbulent waters that had roiled her life these past three weeks.

But should she, at this early stage of their relationship?

Or was her less-than-rosy history with her parents best kept under wraps until a stronger foundation of trust had been established?

Twenty

APPARENTLY THE FOLLOW-IN-THE-FOOTSTEPSquestion he’d thought was innocuous had been anything but.

As Lindsey’s shoulders stiffened, Jack stopped whisking. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to tread on sensitive ground.”

She continued to the island and set the container of cream on top. “No need to apologize. I just don’t talk much about my family situation.”

“I can change the subject. Why don’t we—”

“No. It’s okay.” She exhaled. Faced him. “I can give you the highlights. Or lowlights, to be more precise. Cooking isn’t a family tradition. My dad was in international finance and my mom’s the VP of marketing for a Fortune 500 company.”

When she named the firm, he hiked up his eyebrows. “Impressive.”

“Yeah, it is—and Mom and Dad had similar career aspirations for me. Law or medicine were their suggestions, given my excellent grades. But I didn’t have the stomach for blood, and law bored me. After some mega battles, I agreed to get a business degree. One year into the corporate world, though, I knew I couldn’t spend my life doing that kind of work. I wanted a more creative outlet that fed my soul as well asmy body. Hard as I tried, I couldn’t be the person Mom and Dad wanted me to be. So I quit my job and went to culinary school.”

“How did your mom feel about that?” Because her dad would have been gone by then if he’d died twelve years ago, as she’d told him.

She turned aside to rummage through a drawer. “She wasn’t happy.” There was a world of hurt in her voice.

---