Twice the Temptation. Cara Summers

in the courtyard when her eyes had locked on his, the heat rushing through her system had wiped out everything—all of her worries, all the stress she’d been under the past few months. She’d even forgotten all about the black roses and the notes.

      If he could do that just by looking at her … what could he do if he touched her? What might it be like if he kissed her? If she kissed him back?

      But each time her thoughts drifted in that direction, panic would bubble up. Could he be the man Hattie had chosen for her fantasy? Was Blue Eyes destined to become her boy toy? And what did she want to do about that?

      Those were the questions that Avery hadn’t been fully successful in distracting her from.

      And if she was going to take charge of her life, she needed those answers…. A little thrill moved through her at the idea.

      “Reese?”

      Gathering her thoughts, Reese saw that Nate had his pencil poised. First things first. Mentally, she squared her shoulders. “Go ahead. Ask me anything.”

      “According to Tim, the first note just said, ‘Congratulations'?”

      “Yes. I didn’t see it as a threat.”

      Avery’s brows shot up. “My darling girl, even with your convent school background, you must have thought a black rose was a bit ominous.”

       “I put it out of my mind.” And buried my head in the sand, as usual.

      “The second note and flower arrived a week later. This time the message read, ‘Gather ye rosebuds while ye may.’”

      “Yes.” Hearing the words conjured up the chill she’d felt when she’d first read the message. But she’d ignored that one, too.

      “The whole gist of that poem is about how fleeting time and life is,” Avery pointed out. “Why didn’t you report the incidents to the police?”

      Reese drew in a breath. “Because I was a coward. I didn’t want to face the possibility that I was being threatened.”

      Avery took one of her hands. “My darling girl, you’re not a coward.”

      “I am. When you called and asked me to come for the Singles Weekend, I jumped at it. I thought if I could just get away from L.A. for a while, the whole problem might disappear. Or I could take care of it when I got back to L.A. When I got the note today, I realized that I wasn’t going to get my reprieve.”

      “The third note is definitely a threat,” Nate said. “‘Enjoy the sweet taste of success while you can. It will end soon.’”

      “I know. But I’m not going to run from it anymore. I’m aware that it’s a very bad sign that whoever this person is, he’s tracked me here.”

      “Do you have any idea who could be sending the notes?” Nate asked.

      Reese bit back a frustrated sigh. “No. I haven’t been dating, so it can’t be an ex-boyfriend. As far as I know, I don’t have any crazy fans. I live a pretty quiet life.”

      “There’s Charles Dutoit,” Avery added with a glance at Nate. “He’s an ex-boyfriend and he’s here at Haworth House. He sent Reese three dozen white roses this afternoon.”

      “He was just being kind,” Reese said. “He wanted to erase the memory of the black ones.”

      “And he left a message at the desk asking her to have dinner with him,” Avery added. “Again. He’d asked her earlier, before the rose arrived, but she’d turned him down.”

      “I can talk to him,” Nate said, “but it sounds more like he’s trying to rekindle an old romance than scare you. How about a rival? The first note and flower arrived after the news of your TV show hit the papers. Is there anyone who might be jealous of your success?”

      Reese shook her head. “I know that there are a lot of young chefs who have to be envious. I’ve been on a fast track ever since I graduated four years ago from Le Cordon Bleu. But I can’t think of anyone who might do something like this.”

      “Think harder,” Nate cautioned. “The notes all carry a hint of professional jealousy.”

      “Sending black roses—that’s going to a bit of trouble,” Reese said.

      “Not too much,” Nate said. “Tim checked with Lynn McNally, who runs The Best Blooms in Belle Bay. She gets orders for colored flowers every so often—usually around the holidays. The process is pretty simple. She told Tim it took her less than ten minutes to spray a white rose today. But she didn’t know anything about a black one.”

      “So what do we do next?” Avery asked.

      “Watch and wait. I’m assuming that you’ll keep an eye on Reese while she’s here this weekend.” He turned to Reese. “And I want you to keep thinking about people who might have a motive. Start back in your days at Le Cordon Bleu if you have to.”

      “You could browse through those scrapbooks you keep,” Avery suggested.

      “Scrapbooks?” Nate asked.

      Reese felt the color rise in her cheeks. “Collecting memories was Sister Margherite’s idea. She’s the nun who first taught me to cook. She insisted that it was important to chronicle my culinary successes. Then whenever I doubted myself, I could just review my laurels. I still keep them.” The truth was, she’d brought new photos with her from L.A.

      “Check through them,” Nate said. “They might trigger something.” He glanced at his watch. “I’m going to put in a call to a police captain I know in L.A. and make sure they document the first two incidents there. They can check with your production crew on that end and see if they noticed anyone hanging around your set while you were filming.”

      Avery frowned at Reese. “I wish you’d let me call your sisters. MacFarland Investigations could send someone here to watch over you.”

      “You can’t. If they knew anything about what was going on, they’d fly in. And Naomi’s arguing a case on Monday to get a judge to open up the sealed adoption records on the woman Dane and Ian believe might be their sister.”

      “They’re trying to locate a brother, too, aren’t they?” Nate asked.

      Reese nodded. “All they’ve been able to find so far is that after they were all separated, their younger brother was placed in a foster home for a year. In any case, I don’t want Naomi distracted—she’s got too much on her plate as it is.”

      “Okay,” Avery conceded. “But—“

      Whatever else he was going to say was interrupted by the arrival of two women who stopped at their table. Reese recognized both instantly. The tiny and bubbly brunette was Molly Pepperman. She ran a boutique in town and had become a close friend of her sister Jillian. Rising, Reese hugged Molly first and then the older woman at her side, Miss Emmy Lou Pritchard, the local librarian.

      “Reese, Avery told us you’d be here. We don’t see enough of you in Belle Bay,” Molly said. Then she nodded at the two men. “Avery, Nate, good to see you both.”

      “What are you two doing here?” Reese asked.

      “We’re checking in early for the Singles Weekend,” Molly said. She flashed a grin at Miss Emmy Lou. “We decided we might get a head start, check out our prospects, so to speak. We’re also planning to take a chance on the fantasy box.”

      “No, I—” Miss Emmy Lou began.

      Nate cut her off. “You’re what?”

      Molly met his eyes. “There’s a big mixer kicking everything off tomorrow night, and Avery is going to let interested guests draw fantasies out of Hattie Haworth’s fantasy box. Miss Emmy Lou and I are going to be the first two in line.”

      Nate’s eyes narrowed. “You’re talking about the hat box that was discovered