“My God, Beale.” Mark perched on the stool in Emily’s kitchen.
His attention was riveted on his slice of fresh strawberry-and-custard tart with a honey-and-currant-jelly glaze. Under the island counter lights, it glistened. The light shone off a hundred facets of glazed strawberry as if she’d sprinkled it with gold glitter and not the lightest grace of sanding sugar.
Daniel breezed in. And slammed to a halt when he spotted Mark. It was the only time Emily had seen surprise on his face. If she read his face right, a quick shift to disappointment. He stood in her kitchen looking like a stunned puppy, his gaze swinging from her to the rather disreputable looking character sitting at the counter.
“Hey, ya.” Mark offered a hand.
“Hello.” Daniel shook the hand, silently gathered a slice of t
