Page 19 of Slow Burn Summer

“When you need a P, you need a P,” Nish said, making both of them roll their eyes. “I’m here all week,” he said. “Coffee anyone?”

Kate nodded, relaxing on her chair and turning her face up to the late-afternoon sun slanting through the kitchen skylight. Liv and Nish’s kitchen was always cluttered and warm, a place of safety and sanctuary. Thinking back, her own pristine kitchen had never felt this enveloping, a place of industry rather than comfort. She felt a pang of worry that Alice hadn’t grown up in a home likethis, but then pushed it aside. She was fine. Alice always knew she was loved—Richard might have decided he didn’t love Kate anymore, but he adored his daughter.

“I better go, actually,” she said, glancing at her watch. “I might try and catch Alice before she turns in for the night. I still haven’t found the right time to tell her about all of this book stuff.”

Nish boxed up the rest of the pavlova. “Take this with you. No one here appreciates my cooking the way you do.”

“You’re my favorite brother-in-law,” Kate said. “Even if I had a dozen of them, you’d still be the best one.”

“Yeah, you’re right there,” he said, scruffing her hair as he placed the leftovers in front of her.

She laughed, but she wasn’t lying. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d heard Nish raise his voice; he had an abundance of patience and was a lionheart when it came to his family. If she had to field any questions about relationship goals and inspirations, she wouldn’t need to look any further than this kitchen.

11

Morning Kate,

Something’s just arrived in the office you’re going to want to see. I’ll bring it to the photo shoot tomorrow.

C

Hi Charlie,

I hope it’s what I think it is!

Cab booked for St. Dunstan in the East. I WON’T BE LATE.

Kate

“Lean back a bit, Kate,that’s it, now gaze moodily into the distance for me.”

Kate braced herself against the stone church window frame and scowled. She’d spent the last hour gamely trying to follow the photographer’s theatrical directions, even though she was never a fan of having her photograph taken. She couldn’t argue with the venue choice, though; the church of St. Dunstan in the East’s Gothic ruins had taken her breath away, a secret garden sanctuary hidden in plain sight among London’s hustle and bustle. Tori,the photographer, had insisted on a sunset shoot to capture the golden-hour magic, and beautiful though the backdrop was, her dramatic demands were doing nothing to enhance the magic. So far she’d had Kate pose precariously on stone steps, on a wooden bench with her knees tucked under her chin, and with her back pressed against stone columns covered in creepers.

“Too moody, too moody!” Tori shouted. “Try to think enigmatic rather than murderous.”

“I’m trying my best,” Kate said through gritted teeth.

On Tori’s instruction she’d brought several outfit options and she’d had to try them all, wriggling in and out of her clothes behind a makeshift screen of silver light reflectors. Thankfully, the later hour meant the place was pretty deserted, but all the same, flashing her knickers in public wasn’t Kate’s favorite pastime. It didn’t help that Charlie was there too. He’d ditched his suit jacket and turned back the cuffs of his sleeves, his tie loosened enough to pop the top button of his shirt, aviators on. He was in end-of-the-working-day mode, as if he’d just strolled off the cover ofGQto lean against the wall and observe proceedings.

“Now perch beside the ledge there with your chin cupped in your hands,” Tori said, sweeping her waist-length silver hair over one shoulder. Model turned photographer, she had the look of someone who’d summered on Ibiza for the last forty years, bohemian and barefoot, her sandals kicked off beside her camera gear.

Kate looked down. “There’s a headstone in the way,” she said, pretty sure romance authors weren’t the type to trample over graves for the sake of a good photo.

Tori lowered the camera. “It all adds to the sense of place,” she said. “Trust me, just swing your legs either side of it and bend forward, elbows on your knees.”

It wasn’t easy, and it didn’t feel natural. Kate gave it a go, but it was never going to be the shot that made the cut. It was on theedge of her tongue to say as much when Charlie moved to stand beside Tori.

“The light is especially nice right now over there by the palm tree,” he suggested, nodding toward a far corner.

Tori glanced across, her head on one side. “It could work.” Pointing both index fingers in that direction as a signal to Kate to haul ass, she skipped across the cobbles, the tiny mirrors scattered over her floor-length skirt shooting light refractions around her as she moved.

“Fun as this is to watch, I don’t think it’s what the publisher is looking for,” Charlie said, as they followed a little behind.

“You don’t say,” Kate said. “I feel as if I’m at an advanced yoga class.”

“I’ll make some calls, get them to add contortionist into your author bio.”

“Funny,” she snarked, as Tori beckoned her over to stand in a Gothic archway, her arms crossed and her shoulder leaning against the warm, mottled stone.

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