she slowly sipped her wine. She was trying to adjust to what she was beginning to see as a fact: Colin and Jean were a couple. “Is that Mrs. Frazier likes Isla.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure of that.” Jean lowered her voice. “You can never guess what the Fraziers are thinking.”
“Even Colin?”
“He’s the worst! The stories I could tell you!” Jean said. “He knows a lot of people, and he listens to them, takes care of them. But even people who consider Colin their best friend don’t know what his problems are. He keeps them to himself.”
“I’ll have to remember that,” Gemma said and thought how he’d evaded her more personal questions. She was trying to recover from finding out that Colin was taken.
“Don’t worry about it. All the Fraziers keep their secrets. Would you put those rolls in that basket and cover them? Thanks. You’re a good sous chef. So where was I?”
“The clandestine nature of the Fraziers.”
“Clandestine. What a perfect word to describe them. Anyway, the point is that just because Alea puts up with Isla’s and Kirk’s endless gushing doesn’t mean she’s going to give the job to one of them. I know Colin’s already told her he thinks she should hire you, and I’m certainly going to vote for you.”
It looked like Jean was considered a member of the family. “Shouldn’t you get to know me a little first?”
Jean held up her hand with the bandaged finger. “I always vote for people who save my life.”
“It was hardly that. Although there was a lot of blood and the body doesn’t hold all that much. Who knows what could have happened?”
“I agree,” Jean said as she raised her glass in a toast. “I think you and I are going to get along quite well. Although I wish you weren’t quite so pretty.”
“No one’s ever said that to me before.”
“Honey, with some highlights, a good cut and some decent eye makeup—” She broke off, looking at Gemma in speculation.
“What?”
“I was just thinking of someone in town who’d be perfect for you, that’s all.” She got off the stool and went to the stove. She was half a foot taller than Gemma, and with her high heels she looked like she’d just stepped off a Paris runway. “You wouldn’t mind grating some cheese for me, would you? I figure I have about ten minutes before a Frazier starts demanding food. They eat enormous quantities of it, preferably all beef. I told Colin—”
“What did you tell me?”
The two women turned to look at him. He’d showered and changed into black slacks and a white shirt that wasn’t as snug as his other one had been. He looked very good, and Gemma couldn’t suppress the flutter that came to her heart and body. She had a vision of standing on tiptoe and slipping her arms around his neck. She could imagine how good his body would feel against hers.
“I can’t persuade you into a tie?” Jean said, going to him and putting her arms around his neck. She aimed to kiss his lips, but he turned his head away so her kiss fell onto his cheek.
Gemma turned away. Damn, damn, double damn! she thought. She was as bad as Isla in looking at a Frazier with wedding bells in her eyes.
“Is Gemma helping you cook or are you two hiding out in here?” Colin asked.
“Hiding,” Gemma and Jean said in unison.
“Your mother couldn’t possibly be thinking of hiring one of those two,” Jean said as Colin moved away from her and went to the stove.
“I hope not. What is all this?” he asked when he was standing beside Gemma.
“I have no idea, but it smells divine,” she said and took a step away from him. He smelled too good for her to be close to him.
“It does.” He picked up a lid. “Got a spoon?”
“Here,” Jean said from his other side as she handed him one.
“There you are!” Mrs. Frazier said from behind them. “Jean, dear, give me a glass of that wine. Better yet, Colin, pour me a shot of tequila.”
Gemma stayed by the stove and watched as Colin
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