The Burning Point by Mary Jo Putney Page A
Authors: Mary Jo Putney
Tags: Fiction, General, Family & Relationships, Romance, Contemporary, Abuse, Family Violence, Wrecking
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made soothing noises, but not Kate."
The breadmaker dinged. Val slid off the stool and went to the stove. "The sex shop is closed, but the offer of soup is still open."
"Great. I'm going to miss your soups, too."
"I'll e-mail you some recipes," she said, voice cool.
As she went to a cupboard and took out two bowls, he wondered how many more ways his life was going to be disrupted by Kate's return.
Chapter 10
∗ ∗ ∗
A week had passed since Kate returned to San Francisco to organize her affairs, and Donovan had been missing her the whole time. As he ripped lettuce for a dinner salad, he speculated on how much longer it would be until she came back to Maryland.
Another week, by her own estimate. Though given her comments about the cold weather, he might not see her before March.
The door from the garage opened, and Kate erupted into the kitchen. Purse in one hand and flight bag in the other, she wore an elegant coat that was way too light for the fifteen degree temperature, and an expression that reminded him of a ticking grenade. Obviously she'd used the garage door opener he'd given her before she left, but why on earth hadn't she called to say she'd be arriving earlier than expected?
To put him off balance, he realized. To score a point in the conflict that thrummed just under the surface. Trust was a long, long way off.
Well, he couldn't blame her for being uneasy; he was nervous as a cat himself. But glad--very glad--to see her, even though her fair hair was pulled starkly back and she looked as slick and glittery as a glass angel. "So the official residency has begun. I didn't expect you for another week or so."
"Things fell into place quickly." She set her purse and flight bag down, then wrapped her arms around herself to control her shivering. "Unnervingly so, but at least that has the advantage that the sooner I start, the sooner it's over."
He wouldn't touch that with a ten-foot piece of rebar. "How was the flight?"
"Long. Tiring. I was insane to leave California in mid-winter." As she hung up her coat in the closet, he wondered if she would be willing to borrow something of his until she could go shopping. At least her navy slacks and sweater looked warm.
He wiped his hands on a towel. "I'll bring up the rest of your luggage."
"I can do it," she said brusquely.
He crossed his arms and leaned back against the counter. "I know you can, Wonder Woman. But do you really want to?"
"Cut the gentlemanly stuff. We are not a couple. We are not friends. We are merely sharing the same house."
Identifying the source of her snappishness, he said tactfully, "You must be hungry. Take a seat and I'll find something to feed you."
She opened her mouth to protest, then stopped, realizing the truth in his statement. "You're right. A pity that airlines have practically stopped serving food these days."
As she circled the U-shaped counter and perched on a padded stool, Donovan poured olive oil onto a plate. After he sprinkled on Parmesan cheese and a grating of pepper, he unwrapped a flat loaf of fresh focaccia and sliced off several pieces.
Bread and olive oil, just like his Italian grandmother used to give him when he was little. He pushed the bread toward her on the carving board. "Wine?"
"Please." She pulled off the band that held her hair back and shook her head. Blond waves fell forward around her face, making her look softer and more approachable.
He'd bought and refrigerated several bottles of the chardonnay she'd always liked. Taking one out, he filled a stemmed glass and set it by her hand, then returned to his salad, more than doubling the quantity. Kate had always been able to tear through a bowl of greens with a zest that would shame a rabbit.
She ripped off a piece of focaccia and dipped it into the oil and cheese mixture. After swallowing the first bite, she gave a small sigh, the tension lines in her face easing. "Thanks, Donovan. One day you're going to make someone a fine wife."
Glad to
The breadmaker dinged. Val slid off the stool and went to the stove. "The sex shop is closed, but the offer of soup is still open."
"Great. I'm going to miss your soups, too."
"I'll e-mail you some recipes," she said, voice cool.
As she went to a cupboard and took out two bowls, he wondered how many more ways his life was going to be disrupted by Kate's return.
Chapter 10
∗ ∗ ∗
A week had passed since Kate returned to San Francisco to organize her affairs, and Donovan had been missing her the whole time. As he ripped lettuce for a dinner salad, he speculated on how much longer it would be until she came back to Maryland.
Another week, by her own estimate. Though given her comments about the cold weather, he might not see her before March.
The door from the garage opened, and Kate erupted into the kitchen. Purse in one hand and flight bag in the other, she wore an elegant coat that was way too light for the fifteen degree temperature, and an expression that reminded him of a ticking grenade. Obviously she'd used the garage door opener he'd given her before she left, but why on earth hadn't she called to say she'd be arriving earlier than expected?
To put him off balance, he realized. To score a point in the conflict that thrummed just under the surface. Trust was a long, long way off.
Well, he couldn't blame her for being uneasy; he was nervous as a cat himself. But glad--very glad--to see her, even though her fair hair was pulled starkly back and she looked as slick and glittery as a glass angel. "So the official residency has begun. I didn't expect you for another week or so."
"Things fell into place quickly." She set her purse and flight bag down, then wrapped her arms around herself to control her shivering. "Unnervingly so, but at least that has the advantage that the sooner I start, the sooner it's over."
He wouldn't touch that with a ten-foot piece of rebar. "How was the flight?"
"Long. Tiring. I was insane to leave California in mid-winter." As she hung up her coat in the closet, he wondered if she would be willing to borrow something of his until she could go shopping. At least her navy slacks and sweater looked warm.
He wiped his hands on a towel. "I'll bring up the rest of your luggage."
"I can do it," she said brusquely.
He crossed his arms and leaned back against the counter. "I know you can, Wonder Woman. But do you really want to?"
"Cut the gentlemanly stuff. We are not a couple. We are not friends. We are merely sharing the same house."
Identifying the source of her snappishness, he said tactfully, "You must be hungry. Take a seat and I'll find something to feed you."
She opened her mouth to protest, then stopped, realizing the truth in his statement. "You're right. A pity that airlines have practically stopped serving food these days."
As she circled the U-shaped counter and perched on a padded stool, Donovan poured olive oil onto a plate. After he sprinkled on Parmesan cheese and a grating of pepper, he unwrapped a flat loaf of fresh focaccia and sliced off several pieces.
Bread and olive oil, just like his Italian grandmother used to give him when he was little. He pushed the bread toward her on the carving board. "Wine?"
"Please." She pulled off the band that held her hair back and shook her head. Blond waves fell forward around her face, making her look softer and more approachable.
He'd bought and refrigerated several bottles of the chardonnay she'd always liked. Taking one out, he filled a stemmed glass and set it by her hand, then returned to his salad, more than doubling the quantity. Kate had always been able to tear through a bowl of greens with a zest that would shame a rabbit.
She ripped off a piece of focaccia and dipped it into the oil and cheese mixture. After swallowing the first bite, she gave a small sigh, the tension lines in her face easing. "Thanks, Donovan. One day you're going to make someone a fine wife."
Glad to
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