her, right here in front of God and half the populace of Serenity Falls.
“How could I resist the possibility of a turkey stuffed with Froot Loops?” he asked, reining in his suddenly raging libido.
Her smile widened into a grin, her eyes laughing at him. “Sorry, I couldn’t get near the stuffing. Sally actually held up a cross when I got too close to the oven.”
“So, it’s safe to eat the stuffing?” he asked, raising one eyebrow.
“Coward. Froot Loops provide an important assortment of vitamins and minerals.”
“Not to mention artificial colorings and preservatives,” he murmured, following her to the long table, set up on one side of the patio and already groaning under a vast array of bowls and platters.
“I think we can wedge this in here,” Shannon said, turning to take the bowl from him. She found a space between a bowl of iceberg lettuce and carrot shreds and an elaborate, layered vegetable aspic. “The turkey came out of the oven a few minutes ago. Sally says it has to rest for half an hour, which seems ridiculous. How much rest can a dead bird need?”
“It’s to let the juices settle back into the meat,” Reece said absently. She really had the most amazingly kissable mouth.
Shannon gave him a look that mixed surprise and faint disapproval. “You know how to cook.”
Reece shrugged. “I’m no Wolfgang Puck, but I’ve lived alone for a long time. I got tired of going out to eat.”
“You can buy a gourmet meal in a box, like any other civilized human being.”
“Depends on your definition of gourmet, I suppose,” he said mildly. She shook her head in apparent despair.
“Be sure and take some of the aspic,” she said, gesturing to it.
“Good?” Reece asked, eyeing it with interest.
“Probably not.” Shannon frowned down at the aspic. “Last year, Vangie brought a coffee cake that was so hard someone suggested selling it to NASA to replace the ceramic tile on the shuttle.”
“And that’s supposed to encourage me to eat the aspic?” Reece asked.
“Oh, I didn’t say you had to eat it. I just said you should take some.” She saw his raised eyebrow and shrugged. “Vangie has sensibilities,” she said, as if that explained everything and it probably did.
Reece cleared his throat and tried to look regretful. “Actually, I’m allergic to aspic.”
“Aspic and grape jelly?” Shannon’s eyes widened in surprise.
“Grape—” He caught himself, remembering that first morning when she’d offered him toaster waffles and grape jelly and he’d claimed allergies. He coughed a little. “Not many people know that one of the primary ingredients of aspic is grape jelly.”
“Really?” Shannon cast a doubting look at the shimmering aspic. “Wouldn’t grape jelly make it purple?”
“The, um, baking soda in the aspic neutralizes the, uh, chemical additives that give grape jelly its characteristic color.”
“Wow.” Shannon shook her head in amazement. “Have you always been such a good liar?”
“Always. It’s a gift.” He said it with such simple pride that it startled a quick, choked laugh from her.
His eyes flickered from her eyes to her mouth. She couldn’t possibly taste as good as she looked. Could she? He couldn’t possibly be thinking about finding out. Could he? Maybe she read something of what he was thinking because her smile faded abruptly and her breath caught a little. Reece dragged his gaze from her mouth, saw the awareness in those clear blue eyes. Did he lean down? Did she sway toward him?
The screen door banged behind him, and Reece straightened, abruptly aware of where he was—standing on a sun-splashed patio with a dozen people in plain sight. Shannon threw him a quick, uncertain smile, a murmured—and unheard—comment and moved past him toward the kitchen door. Reece turned to watch her walk away. The phrase, “Danger, Will Robinson” drifted irresistibly—ridiculously—through his mind.
What the hell had just happened? Nothing. That’s what had happened. Absolutely nothing. And nothing would have happened, even if they hadn’t been interrupted. Right. Nothing would have happened.
Oh, hell. Who was he kidding? If they hadn’t been standing right here in front of God and half of Serenity Falls, he’d probably be trying to give her a tonsillectomy with his tongue right about now. And the fact that he was fairly sure she wouldn’t have objected did nothing to alleviate the sudden snugness of his jeans. Reece shifted uncomfortably, moving away from the table to lean against one of the redwood support posts, one that happened to be in shadow. Forty freaking years old and he was showing all the self-control of a sixteen-year-old. No, come to think of it, he hadn’t made a habit of getting erections in public when he was sixteen.
He wasn’t here to start an affair, he reminded himself. The last thing he wanted was any kind of involvement. He had enough to do with cleaning out his grandfather’s house and figuring out what to do with the rest of his life. Beautiful neighbors with gorgeous red hair and legs that went on forever did not fit into his plans.
The only way the aspic could have tasted worse was if it had actually been made with grape jelly and baking soda. Reece managed to swallow the single bite he’d taken and then pushed the remainder of it to one side of his plate, concealing it under a slightly wilted piece of iceberg lettuce. The unknown Vangie might have sensibilities but she apparently lacked taste buds.
The food was as eclectic as the guests. Tofu and turkey. Couscous and three-bean salad. Pearls and blue jeans. Retired professors and born-again hippies. It was a guest list right out of a hostess’s nightmare or maybe a Marx Brothers movie. Potential disaster lurked around every slice of jellied cranberry sauce and dollop of…what exactly was the brown stuff with the little orange bits in it? Reece poked it cautiously to the side of his plate, hiding it under the lettuce leaf with the aspic.
“Darva Torkelson’s family secret rice pilaf,” someone said, and Reece looked up guiltily. “The secret is that no one knows what the orange things are, and I haven’t found anyone brave enough to actually try tasting it to find out. I’m voting for M&Ms.”
A stocky man with stoplight-red hair was standing just to his left, his blue eyes bright with amusement and…expectation? It only took a moment for the memory to snap into place.
“Frank? Frank McKinnon?”
“You know anyone else who looks like Howdy Doody on steroids?” Frank grinned and held out his hand. Reece felt memories flood over him as he shook it.
“How are you, man?”
“Good. I’m good. Is Rich here?” Reece scanned the crowd around the buffet table, looking for more of that bright-red hair. Rich McKinnon had been his best friend during the years he lived in Serenity Falls. The two of them had gone through football, detention, first dates and first cars together. They’d kept in touch for a while after Reece left town—Christmas cards, a few phone calls, but they’d gradually lost touch.
Frank shook his head. “Rich lives in Montana now. He’s a gen-u-ine cowboy.” He drew out the words with a thick Western drawl. “Got hisself a little ranch with horses and cows and all that good stuff.”
“A ranch, huh?” Reece grinned and shook his head. “What happened to becoming a world-famous wildlife photographer?”
“He found out that wildlife photographers spend a lot of time sitting in huts, freezing their privates off, waiting for a ring-necked wallaby to wander into camera range and hoping a hungry grizzly bear doesn’t wander by first.”
“I can see how that would take some of the fun out of things. How are your parents?”
Ruth and Daryl McKinnon had always treated him