He was implying the gesture was good manners. If he’d brought roses, or tulips, maybe. But seaside daisies—these daisies had meaning, and he knew it. By bringing them he’d tugged the past and the present closer together.

She took the bunch, buried her face in them and felt her heart ache a little at all the memories that came with them. “My father grew these.”

“I remember. They reminded him of you, because they have to be protected from hot afternoon sun.”

She had her mother’s coloring—her real mother—with fair skin that burned easily. She wore hats with wide brims and was generous with sunscreen, but still she had to be careful.

Nate knew that, too.

Daisies.

“Thank you. Come in. I’ll put these in water.” She took them through to the kitchen and found a vase. Being practical helped steady her.

He followed her and glanced around the kitchen. “This is a fantastic room.” He gazed across the terrace to the sea. “I remember when your kitchen was at the back of the house, with a small window looking onto trees.”

She filled the vase with water. “It seemed a waste of the view.”

“Yes.” He strolled from the kitchen to the terrace, and his gaze lingered on the table. “It looks great.”

She put the daisies in water and carried them to the table. “I thought the first time I cooked a proper dinner for someone it should be an occasion.”

His gaze slid to hers. “I’m the first person you’ve cooked dinner for?”

“If you don’t count Ashley, then yes. But if you’re nervous and you want to leave I’ll understand.”

“I don’t want to leave. But I confess I’m intrigued. You were married to a top chef for two decades. What does Ashley have that Cliff didn’t?”

“Patience,” Joanna said. “And a generosity of spirit that Cliff lacked. Cliff hated anyone else being in the kitchen so he couldn’t see the point of teaching me to cook, particularly when I had no aptitude.”

Nate shook his head. “But he had a TV series teaching people how to cook.”

“That was all about him. He was the star. He was doing the cooking. Whatever people then did in the privacy of their own homes wasn’t his problem.”

Nate laughed and glanced back at Otter’s Nest. “I can’t believe what you’ve done with this place. Remember when we used to get splinters just from sitting on the deck?”

“Oh, yes.”

He turned, a gleam in his eyes. “Can I look around? Is that rude?”

“Go ahead. I’ll pour us a drink. Wine or beer?” She thought of Ashley. Have fun. “Or... I have champagne?”

“Champagne sounds good.” His gaze held hers for a few seconds longer than necessary. “But give me the tour first.”