It was a smash hit, especially the kitty and the cake.
Everyone was nice to her, more than nice, even so far as being warm and friendly, like she was welcome.
Like she belonged.
It was a nice day and Isabella had to admit that Annie and Debs were right. A party after a tragedy that ended in a miracle rather than further despair was just the thing.
Isabella did her best to keep Sally from tiring herself out too much, the exuberant kitty from causing Sally further injury and she consistently cleared away party debris so clean up later wouldn’t be overwhelming.
The only weird thing that happened was when she was standing, talking to Debs and Fergus, Prentice brought her a plate piled high with food.
Without a word, he handed it to her and walked away.
Fergus, Debs and Isabella stared at the plate. Isabella with surprise, Debs and Fergus with knowing looks.
Not hungry, Isabella nibbled from the plate then put it aside.
Not long after, she was gathering discarded plates for the bin when fingers curled firmly around her upper arm.
She looked at the strong hand at her arm and then at Prentice who the hand belonged to when he pulled the rubbish out of her hands, dragged her to the bin, dumped it in then dragged her to the counter. He prepared another plate for her, setting it on the counter and piling the food on it while he kept her imprisoned next to him, his hand still on her arm.
When he was done, he turned to her, plate in hand, and demanded, “Eat.”
“But –” she began, so shocked she didn’t know what to say.
He interrupted her. “Eat.”
“I had some. It was lovely but I’m full. I couldn’t eat more,” she explained.
“You had barely any. It is lovely. There isn’t any way in hell you’re full. And you’re going to eat more.” He paused then said, “Now.”
She stared at him stunned.
Then she said, “Prentice, really, I’m full.”
His eyes narrowed, he (and the plate) got close, his face dipped to hers and he asked in a low, quiet, dangerous voice, “Do I have to feed you?”
Her mind filled with images of Prentice feeding her finger food. Her body reacted pleasantly to these mental images.
She swallowed, shook her head and took the plate. He dropped her arm.
Isabella ate while Prentice stood watching her. This was a difficult task. Firstly, she was confused as to why he was practically force-feeding her. Secondly, his eyes on her did crazy things to her heart, her belly and her head.
When she cleaned the plate, she asked, maybe a little snotty (but really, he was force-feeding her!), “Happy?”
“Not really,” he returned. “But it’s a start.”
Then he walked away.
Isabella glared at him and then felt eyes on her. Prentice’s Mum was looking at her as was his sister as was Jason and Mrs. Kilbride.
They were all grinning.
“You’re getting too thin,” Mrs. Kilbride called out then she advised helpfully, “Now you should have some of your delicious cake!”
At that, Prentice pivoted on his boot, went directly to the cake, cut an enormous piece, slapped it on a plate and handed it to her.
Dougal burst out laughing.
Prentice tipped his head to the cake.
Isabella glared at him.
Prentice calmly accepted her glare.
His every-colored eyes on her did funny things to her heart rate.
She ate the cake.
Seriously, she needed to get out of there.
As soon as she could.
* * * * *
Prentice
The last partygoer was gone and except for the decorations which Sally didn’t want them to take down yet, everything was clean and tidy and his children were in bed.
Even Sally’s new cat, christened Blackie, was curled asleep at Sally’s feet.
Prentice needed a whisky.
In case he received a middle of the night phone call with bad news that would necessitate him being alert, he’d refrained since Sally had her accident.
With Sally home recovering, still in possession of all her important faculties, now asleep in bed and with Elle knocking herself out to care for him, his offspring and his home, including throwing a welcome home party for his injured daughter as well as sleeping in a bed not far away from him, he needed a f**king whisky.
He was considering what to do about Elle as he poured it.
This was a departure since for the past week when he wasn’t worried about Sally, Jason and getting the work done on a deadline that was fast approaching, he normally spent his time considering all the things he’d like to do to Elle.
Regardless of the fact that she still looked exhausted and was losing weight mainly because the woman kept so busy she didn’t f**king eat, not to mention the fact that she’d left him and his family four weeks ago without looking back and for reasons only known in that crazy f**king head of hers, he couldn’t deny that he was attracted to her.
He didn’t want to be attracted. He wanted to be over it and move on, as she clearly was.
But he was attracted to her.
Very attracted.
In fact, he thought about this so often and there were so many different options, his mind had automatically started cataloguing the things he wanted to do to her. Where he wanted to put his mouth, his hands, his fingers, the different positions he wanted to try, the various rooms and furniture available.
Christ, it consumed him.
He’d never experienced anything like it, not even twenty years ago.
Then again, he hadn’t had her twenty years ago.
He was replacing the bottle when he heard, “Prentice?”
His eyes cut to the door of his study.
Elle stood there wearing jeans that fit her too well (even if she had lost weight) and a stylish but see-through purple blouse with tiny pleats down the front and a camisole he could see underneath. Her feet were bare, her hair was in a messy bunch that had slid to the back of her head and she’d taken off her jewelry but still wore her makeup.
She looked like she could be photographed for a magazine.
Instead, she was casually standing in the doorway of his study in his home gazing at him with soft, weary eyes and, if he took six steps, she could be in his arms.
On that tempting thought and to take his mind from it, his eyes fell to her hands something he didn’t realize he habitually did and he saw she was not clenching them in fists (something he did realize she habitually did) but she was carrying a magazine.
“Is something on your mind?” he asked, his gaze going back to her tired face.
“Um…” she started then she stopped.
This annoyed him.
The first time she came back she seemed cool and in control except, of course, when they were bickering but even then she’d seemed in control.