She turned to her sister with a frown. “Will you stop that, please! Aidan is not ‘my guy.’”
To her surprise, she heard a chuckle from her mother.
“I swear this takes me back to when you were teenagers. LeeAnn knew exactly how to get under your skin. Apparently she still does.”
Hiding her own smile, Liz challenged her mother. “Are you any better at controlling her now than you were then? Or do I have to come up with some way to keep her quiet so we can enjoy our breakfast in peace?”
“You girls are old enough to fight your own battles,” her mother replied. “Aidan, do you have siblings?”
“No, ma’am. I was an only child.”
“Then you have no idea what you missed,” she told him.
“You mean the constant squabbling?” Liz asked.
Her mother gave her a chiding look. “I was thinking about the bond the three of you share. No one knows your history the way the three of you do.”
Liz turned to Aidan and was surprised to see a hint of real regret in his eyes.
“You’re right,” he told her mother. “I can’t imagine what that must be like.”
Since Liz knew the way her mother’s mind worked, she decided to forestall all the likely questions about Aidan’s parents. That would definitely lead down a path it was best not to follow. She knew from experience how upsetting that would be for him.
She held up her menu. “Have you had a chance to look over the specials yet?”
“I was leaning toward the waffles before we ever came through the door,” LeeAnn said at once. “And once I got a whiff of that aroma in the air, I was completely sold.”
“Ditto for me,” Danielle said.
“Mom?” Liz asked.
“I probably ought to have the oatmeal,” she said without enthusiasm.
“Mom, this is a special occasion,” Danielle said. “If I can treat myself to waffles, so can you. You can go back to being healthy when we’re back home.”
Liz saw her mother’s expression shift from disappointment to resolve.
“You’re absolutely right. I’ve eaten enough oatmeal this past year to soak up every ounce of cholesterol in the state of North Carolina. I’m having waffles with butter and syrup and I’m going to enjoy every bite.”
“Way to go, Mom!” LeeAnn said. “And we promise not to tell Dad.”
“Oh, phooey on that,” she retorted. “Do you think he’s been eating bran flakes and a banana every morning while I’ve been gone? I imagine I’d find the wrapping from a whole pound of bacon in the trash, if I looked.” She sat back, hesitated, then said, “Come to think of it, I want bacon with my waffle, too.”
Liz stared at her with surprise. “Mom, when was the last time you had bacon?”
“A week ago,” she replied without a hint of apology, then added piously, “Not for breakfast, of course.”
“Of course not,” Danielle mocked, laughing. “But how can you possibly have a BLT without the bacon? You know perfectly well once the summer tomatoes start ripening, Mom’s disapproval rating for bacon goes right out the window.”
“Of course it does,” her mother declared. “You tell me if there’s anything better than a ripe tomato and bacon sandwich on a hot summer day? I doubt you’d turn one down.”
“Never have,” Danielle quickly agreed.
Liz turned to Aidan. “I don’t imagine you had a garden growing up in New York.”
He smiled, his expression nostalgic. “You’d be wrong. My mother commandeered a part of the roof on our apartment building and planted tomatoes, peppers and herbs. You’d be amazed at what can be grown in such a small space.” He looked at her mother. “If gardening’s one of your interests, I think the two of you would have had a lot in common. I still miss those BLTs she used to make when I’d come in from playing.”
To Liz’s shock, her mother reached across the table and patted his hand. “I’ve left a half dozen ripe tomatoes from my garden with Liz. You make sure she gives you a couple.”
“Or she could make you a sandwich herself,” LeeAnn suggested slyly. “They do say that the way to a man’s heart—”
Liz cut her off. “We need to order breakfast,” she said hurriedly, gesturing for Sally.
Aidan leaned in close and whispered, “I’ll be looking forward to that sandwich.”
“Maybe you should get my sister to make it for you,” she replied tartly.
“She’s leaving. You’ll be right here.”
“I can give you a couple of tomatoes and you can make your own.”
His hand somehow landed on her thigh, even as he managed to maintain a completely innocent look for the benefit of everyone else at the table. “Not the same, sweetheart. Besides, it’s about time I found out whether you can cook.”
“A BLT hardly qualifies as cooking,” Liz said with a laugh that came out more as a croak when his sneaky, clever fingers wandered just a little farther up her thigh. Since there was not much she could do to express her distress short of slapping at his hand and causing a scene, she sat back and enjoyed the sensation, praying that no one would notice the heated flush that surely must be climbing up her neck and staining her cheeks.
She vowed, though, to get even with him later. In fact, she had a couple of fascinating ideas that ought to work quite well. Not a one of them involved fixing him a meal.
* * *
Aidan knew he’d been testing Liz’s limits over breakfast. It was the most fun he’d had in a long time. He’d also detected a glint in her eyes that suggested he’d pay later for his impudence. That promised to be fun, too. Her attitude toward him—toward them—was slowly loosening up. He intended to take full advantage of that.
After breakfast, he walked back to Liz’s with the women and said goodbye as they drove off to return to North Carolina. He noted that Liz actually seemed sorry to see them go.
“The weekend went better than you’d anticipated, didn’t it?”
She nodded. “It had its share of
