Chapter One
The bright March sun slanted through the café windows and spilled across the tiled floor in a pool of yellow.
For a brief moment, Honeysuckle Summers thought she’d knocked the pot of melted butter she was brushing onto the filo pastry off the counter. Then the metal sign hanging outside the café caught her eye, the sun’s bright rays highlighting each letter of the word Matariki in white gold. She caught her breath, her heart thumping in response. It was just a reflection, she scolded herself as tears pricked her eyes. But surely, if her mother had found a way to send her a sign, today would be the day?
“Honey?” The male voice called from the table to one side of the café. “You okay?”
She glanced across. Dex’s head was tilted to one side, his brow furrowed with concern. He’d obviously been watching her—as usual—and he’d caught the emotion as it washed over her like a warm breeze. He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.
She smiled back, blinking the tears away. “I’m fine.”
He held her gaze and raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything else. He hadn’t wanted her to work today, had thought it might be too difficult, but Cam Summers had insisted on keeping the café open, and she hadn’t wanted to let her father down.
She gave a little shake of her head, trying to allay Dex’s fears. He worried about her too much. It was nice though, being worried about. So much nicer than her ex’s indifference, his cold, almost cruel disdain. How had she ever thought what they had was love?
Her gaze lingered on Dex for a moment longer, her attention caught as usual by his handsome, strong features and his baby blue eyes accentuated by the cornflower blue shirt he wore beneath his navy police officer’s jacket. The afternoon sun had painted his light brown hair, too, bringing out the natural blond highlights, giving him the effect of a halo.
Now she was being fanciful. Anyone less like an angel than Dex, she couldn’t imagine. There was something…naughty about him that gave her the shivers.
His lips curved and he opened his mouth to say something no doubt teasing or suggestive, but she was never to find out. The man sitting across the table from him had also been looking outside at the sign, and he turned back to Dex, frowning as he asked, “What does Matariki mean again?”
Dex picked up his newspaper, probably to try and discourage Reuben from talking to him until Daisy had finished her work. He disliked her sister’s boyfriend intensely. “It’s the proper name for the Seven Sisters star cluster.”
“I thought that was Pleiades,” Reuben said. Already, he’d lost interest in the conversation, his eyes following the butt of a slim pretty girl as she left the café. Honey gritted her teeth. Reuben may be richer than Croesus and look like he’d walked straight off a Milan catwalk, and his watch may have cost more than the jewellery collection of her and all her sisters combined, but he was an arrogant ass, and she had no idea what Daisy saw in him. Well, apart from the money.
“Matariki is the Maori name for Pleiades.” Dex found the crossword, folded the paper around it and took a pen out of his pocket. Honey went back to buttering the filo pastry, trying not to laugh. He was so useless at hiding his feelings. She could always read him like a well-thumbed book.
“I still don’t get it.” Reuben stirred his latte, destroying the silver fern Daisy had drawn in the foam on the top. “There are only six sisters, aren’t there? Where’s the seventh? Did one die or something?”
Honey bit her lip, more because she knew what Dex’s reaction would be than because she was offended. Sure enough, he put down his paper with a grunt and glared at Reuben. “Jeez, could you be any more insensitive? You know their mother died a year ago today, right?”
“Yes. I was talking about the sisters, not their mother.” Reuben looked at him as if he was stupid.
Dex tightened his grip on the pen, but luckily at that moment Honey’s brother came through the kitchen door, distracting him. The smell of warm pastry wafted out with him, making her stomach rumble. They baked most of their food out the back but prepared it on the benches behind the front counter, as customers seemed to like watching the dishes being made.
Koru deposited the last of the cakes on the counter for Daisy to lock away in the cabinets for the next morning, then walked over to their table and slid into the chair beside Reuben. He had a dusting of flour across his cheek. Honey was tempted not to point it out. She still hadn’t forgiven him for dumping his latest girlfriend the week before. She’d rather liked Becca, who’d put up admirably with Koru’s commitment phobia for six months before tentatively suggesting they move in together. He broke up with her the next day. Honey despaired of him ever settling down.
“Happy birthday,” Dex said.
“Oh, is it your birthday?” Reuben looked surprised.
Koru nodded. “Yep. Twenty-eight today.”
“Old man,” Dex said.
“I’m the same age as you now,” Koru pointed out.
“Yeah, well. I’m old too. We’re like the two old guys from the Muppets.”
Koru grinned, stole half of the cream cheese and spinach muffin Dex hadn’t yet touched and shoved it in his mouth in one go, obviously thinking his birthday status gave him the right to commit savoury snack larceny. “What’s up?”
Dex gestured at Reuben with his pen. “He wants to know who the seventh sister is. I was about to tell him number seven is the prettiest of the lot.”
Honey giggled. Koru snorted and gave a baffled Reuben a wry look. “He’s talking about me.”
“You’re the seventh sister?” Reuben asked.
“Well, the seventh sibling, yes. They always joke I’m the seventh sister though.”
“I thought they were all named after flowers,” Reuben said.
“A koru is a curled up silver fern,” her brother pointed out, exchanging a glance with Dex. She knew what he was thinking. What does Daisy see in this idiot? With a mother who—although she’d spent most of her life living in England—had been half Maori, it was important to all the Summer siblings to have an understanding of Maori culture. The thought of Daisy dating someone who was so obviously ignorant of some of the most basic Maori references made even Honey’s hackles rise, and she didn’t bristle very often.
“It’s a weird name,” Reuben said.
Dex grinned. “He’s just relieved they didn’t call him Narcissus.”
The three men laughed and Honey smiled as she placed another layer of filo pastry on top of the buttered one. As usual, Koru had dissipated the tension. He was good for Dex, and she was glad they got on so well. Although he hid it admirably, she knew Dex’s nerves about the wedding were growing exponentially as they approached the big day, but Koru would keep him grounded.
Hopefully. She was not going to think about the alternative.
Her brother looked across at her then. “Have you asked him yet?”
“No…” She bit her lip to hide a smile as she placed a spoonful of the apple and apricot mixture she’d prepared earlier in the centre of the filo square and folded it into a neat triangle, repeating with the other squares. She glanced up briefly at her fiancé. “I know you’ve ordered your suit, but Daisy and I were looking at pictures of a medieval-style wedding. She thinks you ought to go dressed as Henry the Eighth.”
“I am not wearing a pair of tights to the wedding.” Dex dropped his gaze to the crossword.
“Why not?” she pressed, enjoying teasing him for once. “You’ve got great legs. Tights would show them off nicely.”
Daisy lifted her gaze from the coffee machine and shot her sister an amused warning look. “Honey, don’t tease the man. He’s grumpy because he’s had to work on a Sunday. The last thing he needs is you chewing off his ear.”
“I’m not grumpy.” Dex filled in an answer to one of the clues. “I just object to wearing women’s underwear.” He glanced up at Honey. “Unless it’s yours.”
Reuben raised an eyebrow. Koru burst out laughing. Honey’s cheeks grew warm as Dex’s lips curved. Damn the man. He knew talking about anything remotely sexy would shut her up. Would she continue to get embarrassed when they started sleeping together? When she knew his body as well as her own?
The thought of finally seeing him naked made her all tingly, and she placed the filo parcels in the fridge before beckoning a finger at him. “Dexter Concannon, come with me.”
“Now you’ve done it.” Koru leaned over and pinched the other half of his muffin. “No male has any say in the Summer wedding plans. You should know that by now. You’re in big trouble.”
Dex sighed, put down his pen and paper and picked up his hat. Honey took his hand and led him through the café to the front door, ignoring Koru’s whistle and Daisy’s giggle from behind the counter.
Dex squeezed her fingers as they walked. “Are you going to reprimand me?”
“Yes.” She walked out into the large cobblestone yard. They were near to closing and the tables and chairs in the tiny outdoor mall were mostly empty, but customers still filtered out of the second-hand book shop further down, and she didn’t want an audience. She walked past the hairdressers and the closed Italian restaurant to find a quiet corner.
“Okay,” Dex said. “Do you need to borrow my handcuffs?”
She cast a glance over her shoulder. Usually his police officer’s uniform made him look more authoritative, but when he spoke to her like that she had trouble erasing the vision of him wearing it to bed. At least he didn’t have the hat on yet. She couldn’t think straight when he wore the hat.
She gave him a mock glare and said, “Behave,” before turning back to the mall. There, she thought, under the white bougainvillea that covered the latticework at the end. Although it was technically autumn, and in the South Island the leaves would be turning, here in the Northland of the North Island the breeze warmed her face and the fantail flitting about on the top of the fence chirruped in the sunshine.
She turned to face Dex, not willing to give up teasing him just yet. “Now. I’m not saying you have to wear tights, only that I thought it would be nice for everyone to come in medieval dress.”
He placed his hat on the nearby fence post. “I’m not wearing a dress.”
“You’re being dense on purpose. You can pick an historical figure like Robin Hood, or what about Richard the Lionheart or—”
“Honeysuckle Summers.” He spoke firmly as he caught her hands in his and linked their fingers. He moved closer, the hot look in his eyes making her shiver. “I couldn’t care less what the guests are wearing at our wedding. But when I get married to the girl of my dreams, I’m going to be wearing a suit—and I’m talking about a smart, expensive, tailored one, not a clown’s suit, not a suit of armour, and certainly not my birthday suit.” Tightening his fingers on hers, he lifted her hands and pinned them to the wall above her head. “Okay?”
Her heart hammered at the thought of him naked. The way his gaze raked her didn’t help her calm down either. “Gosh, you’re wilful today,” she observed, breathless.
“And you’re incredibly sexy.”
“Don’t think you can get around me by…hmph…”
He smothered her protest with his lips, and Honey gave in and closed her eyes.