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him to teach her to cook if that was the way she felt?
    ‘And I’ll have you know that fish fingers on a fresh bun with a dollop of tartare sauce makes the best lunch.’
    ‘I will
never
eat fish fingers.’
    ‘All the more for me, then.’
    He scowled at the pizza boxes.
    ‘Also,’ her lips twitched, ‘as far as I’m concerned, there’s no such thing as a bad slice of pizza.’
    ‘That’s ludicrous!’
    ‘Don’t be such a snob. Besides, all of this food is better than whatever it is you’ve been living on for the last heaven only knows how long. Which, as far asI can tell, has been tinned baked beans, crackers and breakfast cereal.’
    She had a point. It didn’t matter what he ate. In fact the more cardboard-like and tasteless the better. It had been his search for excellence and his ambition that had caused the fire that had almost claimed a young man’s life and—
    His chest cramped. He reached out an unsteady hand and lowered himself into a chairat the table. He had to remember what was important. He wanted to do all he could to set Russ’s mind at rest, but he couldn’t lose sight of what was important—and that was paying off his debts.
    A warm hand on his shoulder brought him back to himself. ‘Mac, are you okay?’
    He nodded.
    ‘Don’t lie to me. Do you need a doctor?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘Russell told me you were physically recovered.’
    ‘I am.’ He pulled in a breath. ‘It’s just that I don’t like talking about food or cooking.’
    Realisation dawned in those sage-green eyes of hers. ‘Because it reminds you of the accident?’
    It reminded him of all he’d had. And all he’d lost.

CHAPTER THREE
    M AC TENSED BENEATH her touch and Jo snatched her hand back, suddenly and searingly aware that while Mac wasn’t in peak physical condition he was still a man. He still had broader shoulders than most men she knew, and beneath the thin cotton of his sweater his body pulsed hot and vibrant.
    But at this moment he looked so bowed and defeated she wanted to wrap herarms around him and tell him it would all be okay, that it would work itself out.
    She grimaced. She could just imagine the way he’d flinch from her if she did. Besides, she didn’t know if it
would
be all right. She didn’t know if it would work itself out or not.
    She moved away to the other side of the kitchen. ‘I can make you one promise, Mac.’
    He glanced up.
    ‘I promise tonever feed you fish fingers.’
    He didn’t laugh. He didn’t even smile. But something inside him unhitched a fraction and his colour started to return. ‘I suppose I should give thanks for small mercies.’
    ‘Absolutely. Have you had lunch yet?’
    He shook his head.
    She seized an apple from the newly replenished fruit bowl and tossed it to him.
    This time she’d have sworn he’d laugh,but he didn’t.
    ‘I can see I’m going to get nothing but the very best care while you’re here.’
    ‘Top-notch,’ she agreed. She grabbed her car keys from the bench. ‘I’m going to put The Beast in the garage.’
    Mac didn’t say anything. He just bit into his apple.
    The moment she was out of sight Jo’s shoulders sagged. If Mac looked like that—so sick and grey and full of despair—justat the thought of the accident, at the thought of cooking...
    She had no hope of getting him to give her cooking lessons. None at all. She twisted her fingers together. It was obvious now that it had been insensitive and unkind to have asked.
    Why do you never think, Jo?
    With a sigh, she started up her car and drove it around to the garage. It didn’t solve her problem. She neededto make a
macaron
tower and she had just over two months to learn how to do it.
    She pushed her shoulders back. Fine. She had a whole two months. She’d just teach herself. There’d be recipes online, and videos. What else was she going to do out here? Keeping house and cooking dinner would take—what?—three or four hours a day tops? Probably less once she had the house in