His Son, Her Secret. Sarah M. Anderson

it.”

      “You did an absolutely lousy job, I might add,” George said with a chuckle.

      Byron groaned. “I got better. Here, try the gazpacho.” He ladled a few spoonfuls into Leona’s bowl. “It’s not quite as good as it was in Spain—the peppers aren’t as fresh.”

      George scoffed as Leona tasted the soup. “Boy, don’t tell them what they don’t know. She never had the stuff you were making in Madrid.”

      “Mmm,” Leona said, licking her spoon. Byron found himself staring at her mouth as her tongue moved slowly over the surface of the spoon. She caught him looking and dropped her gaze. He swore she was blushing as she cleared her throat and said, “He’s right. As long as we can say ‘locally sourced ingredients’—preferably with the name of the farm where you get your vegetables—that’s what foodies value.”

      “We can do that. There’s enough space around the brewery that I could also have some dirt hauled in and grow my own herbs and the like.”

      Leona’s eyes lit up. “Would you? That’d be a great selling feature.”

      Byron liked it when she looked at him like that, even though he knew damned well that he shouldn’t. But sitting here with her, talking about a restaurant they were going to open within months...

      He’d missed her. He’d never stopped missing her. And as much as he knew he couldn’t let himself fall under her spell again—couldn’t risk getting his heart broken a second time—he just wanted to wrap his arm around her shoulders and hold her to him.

      She would burn him. That he knew. That was the nature of the Harpers whenever they were around the Beaumonts.

      But watching her savor the meal he’d cooked for her, talking and laughing with George...

      He wanted to play in the flames again.