The One Winter Collection. Rebecca Winters

with her again as if it had been yesterday that she’d been a teenager helping her in the kitchen and soaking up the older woman’s cooking lore.

      Thankfully, Maura had been delighted at the idea of sharing some of the guest house favourites based on the cooking of her Irish youth. They’d made a date for Monday to go through the recipes. Just to go through the recipes, not to talk about Jesse, Lizzie reminded herself. Or to do anything as ridiculous as to ask Maura to show her his baby photos. Her thoughts of him being doted over as a baby had sparked a totally unwarranted curiosity to see what he’d looked like as a little boy.

      * * *

      As Jesse picked up a tray of mini muffins, he wondered what the heck he was doing playing at being a waiter in a café. He hadn’t enjoyed the time he’d spent in the service industry during university, had only done it to fund his surfing and skiing trips. Being polite to ill-mannered clients of catering companies hadn’t been at all to his liking. In fact he’d lost his job when he’d tipped a pitcher of cold water over an obnoxious drunken guest who wouldn’t stop harassing one of the young waitresses. The agency had never hired him again and he hadn’t given a damn.

      He’d promised to help Sandy with the café but the building work he’d already done was more than his sister-in-law would ever have expected. No. He had to be honest with himself. This café gig was all about Lizzie. Seeing her every day. Being part of her life. And that was a bad, bad idea. Even for two hours a day.

      Because he couldn’t stop thinking about her. How beautiful she was. Her grace and elegance. Her warmth and humour. Remembering how she’d felt in his arms and how he’d like to have her there again. Her passionate response to his kisses and how he’d like—

      In short, he was failing dismally in thinking of Lizzie Dumont as a family acquaintance trying to be friends. Could it ever really be platonic between them? There would always be an undercurrent of sexual attraction, of possibilities. Even in that white chef’s jacket and baggy black pants she looked beautiful. He even found it alluring the way she tasted food in the kitchen—how she closed her eyes, the way she used her tongue, her murmurs of pleasure when the food tasted the way it should.

      Lizzie wasn’t sexy in a hip-swinging, cleavage-baring way. But there was something about the way she carried herself, the way she smiled that hinted at the passionate woman he knew existed under her contained exterior.

      However, his reasons for not wanting to date her were still there and stopped him from flirting with her, from suggesting they see each other while he was in town. There could be no ‘fun while it lasts’ scenarios with Lizzie. And the alternative—something more serious—was not on for him. The last time he’d tried serious it had taken him years to recover from the emotional battering.

      He had fallen so hard and fast for Camilla he hadn’t seen sense. Hadn’t realised when he’d talked to her about his feelings she had answered him with weasel words that had had him completely stymied, fooled into thinking she cared for him. He cringed when he thought about how naïve and idealistic he’d been. When he’d proposed to her she had virtually laughed in his face.

      No way would he risk going there again with Lizzie. He had to stop looking at her, noticing her, admiring her.

      There was also the sobering truth that Lizzie didn’t seem to want anything to do with him other than as a family friend. In fact he suspected she disapproved of him.

      He’d noticed the way she’d watched him as he’d worked the room, offering samples of food, talking up the café, Lizzie’s skills as a chef, the bookshop next door, how it would all work when Bay Bites opened. He’d talked to guys too, but it was the women who’d wanted to linger and chat. As it always had been. And Lizzie was clocking that female attention.

      Ever since he’d turned fourteen women had made it obvious they found him attractive. ‘You don’t even have to try, you lucky dog,’ Ben had often said when they were younger.

      When his mates had been trying to talk girls into their beds he’d been trying to get them out of his. Literally. More than once he’d come home and found a girl he scarcely knew had climbed through his bedroom window and was waiting for him, naked in his bed.

      He’d found that a turn-off rather than a turn-on. He’d had to ask them to leave in the nicest possible way without hurting their feelings. When Jesse made love to a woman it was always going to be memorable—and his choice.

      His brother Ben stopped him to snag first one muffin then another from his tray. ‘Sure I can’t convince you to stay in Dolphin Bay and work here? With your way with the ladies, I reckon we’ll double the numbers of female customers. Look at them, flocking to your side like they’ve always done.’

      ‘Ha ha,’ he said, ignoring the bait, conscious that Lizzie might overhear the conversation with his brother.

      As he’d said to Lizzie, his prowess with the opposite sex was greatly exaggerated. And he hadn’t taken advantage of his gift with women. He had always been honest about his feelings. Dated one girl at a time. Made it clear when he wasn’t looking for anything serious. Bailed before anyone got hurt. Let her tell everyone she had dumped him. Had stayed friends with his ex-girlfriends—as far as their boyfriends or husbands would allow.

      But today, seeing himself through Lizzie’s eyes, he wasn’t so sure he was comfortable with all that any more. Most of his Dolphin Bay friends were married now. Though the guys moaned and complained about being tied down, he didn’t actually believe them when they said they envied him his life. They seemed too content.

      Now he sometimes wondered what they really thought about him being single as he faced turning thirty. He knew the townsfolk had laid bets on him always staying a bachelor. It was beginning to bug him. But he had never treated their interest in his ladies’ man reputation as anything other than a laugh; never talked about the reasons he’d stayed on his own.

      He hadn’t told anyone in Dolphin Bay—even his family—about what had happened with Camilla. Had never confided how the deaths of his sister-in-law Jodi and little nephew Liam had affected him. How terrified he’d been at seeing Ben suffer the life-destroying pain caused by the loss of love. On the cusp of manhood, Jesse had resolved he would never endure what Ben had endured. He’d put the brakes on any relationship that threatened to get serious.

      Gradually, however, he’d realised Ben’s pain should not be his pain. That he had to love his own way, take his own risks. He’d let down his guard by the time he’d met Camilla and hurtled into a relationship with her. Only for her callous rejection of his love to send him right back behind his barricades.

      Was that enough now?

      He looked over to Lizzie but she had disappeared into the kitchen again. He’d seen yet another side of her today. Calm. Competent. Ruthlessly efficient under pressure. He liked it.

      He admired her for her commitment. Surely a café serving toasted ham and cheese sandwiches—even if she called them croque monsieur—was a huge comedown for someone with Lizzie’s career credentials. Dolphin Bay must be just a pit stop for Lizzie. She had a half-French daughter. How long before she got fed up with flipping fried eggs and turned her sights back to Europe?

      Or did he have that wrong? It was logical for him to base future plans purely on his career. Maybe it wasn’t so for Lizzie. She was a mother—perhaps that was why she could settle for Bay Bites? Maybe because it was in the best interests of her daughter.

      He couldn’t imagine how it would be to put someone else first. Wife. Child. Suiting himself had seemed just fine up to now. A charming Peter Pan. That was what Camilla had called him at their most recent encounter. She’d said it with a laugh. Hadn’t meant it to sound like an insult. But it had stung just the same. And made him think.

      He headed back into the fray. ‘Be quick before these muffins are all snatched off the tray,’ he said to the nice redhead friend of Evie’s. ‘They’re made with organically grown rhubarb, locally produced sour cream—in fact from Evie’s farm—and—’

      The