Donovans 02 - Jade Island

“Come in, Lianne. Welcome to the Donovan zoo.” She turned back to her brother, who was closing the door. “Susa and The Donovan called just before Archer did. He got hung up with a currency exchange problem—Dad, not Archer—and Susa got bored and started painting sunset reflected in fog, and—”
    “They’re late,” Kyle finished. “What did I get them for their anniversary?”
    “I’ll play your silly game,” Honor said, wide-eyed. “What did you get them?”
    The look of distress on Kyle’s face made Lianne laugh even as she reached out to touch his arm in sympathy. “Your sister is teasing you.”
    “No!” Kyle said with mock horror. “How did you guess she’s my sister?”
    “Your sweaters match, like your eyes. Only hers are beautiful.”
    Honor snickered. “Guess she told you. I stole this sweater from Justin’s dresser. Kyle must have swiped his from Lawe’s. They’re twins. Justin and Lawe, that is. Kyle is one of a kind, thank God.”
    “Swiped? I just borrowed,” Kyle said, defending himself. “I wasn’t expecting to spend several days in Seattle. Besides, Justin and Lawe are in South America. They won’t know about sweater swiping unless you tell them.”
    “I won’t tell if you won’t,” Honor promised. She grinned at Lianne. “Come in and meet my husband. Jake, where are you?”
    “Marinating the salmon,” called a deep voice from the rear of the condo. “I could use a hand chopping herbs.”
    “We’re on the way,” Honor said.
    “Salmon.” Lianne sighed and licked her lips unconsciously. After a quick, comprehensive look at the wall of landscapes that were calling silently, vividly, to her, she politely followed Honor into the condo’s huge kitchen. Good manners became enthusiasm when she inhaled the scents of fresh food being prepared. “I’m in heaven.”
    “Not likely,” Jake said, looking up from the lemons he was squeezing. “Too many Donovans.”
    “Only one,” Kyle retorted. “Me.”
    “The prosecution rests,” Jake said. He switched his smile to Lianne. “You must be Ms. Blakely. I’m Jake Mallory.”
    “Hi. Only it’s Lianne.” She smiled at the big, dark man whose hands made lemons look the size of limes. “Where are the herbs?”
    “In the vase,” he said, gesturing with his chin toward a counter.
    “Knife?”
    “Behind me in the right-hand island drawer.”
    “Chopped herbs coming right up.” Lianne opened the drawer and pulled out a wicked chef’s knife.
    Honor and Kyle watched in fascination as Lianne smoothly, efficiently reduced the herbs to fragrant green flakes with rapid motions of the knife.
    “Whew,” Kyle muttered to Honor. “Remind me not to get between her and something she wants.”
    With a deft motion of the knife, Lianne heaped the chopped herbs onto the wide blade and turned to Jake. “Where do you want them?”
    “You’re better than a Cuisinart.” Jake smiled and lifted his hands away from the pan of salmon filets. “Here, dump ’em on the fish.”
    Lianne bent over the shallow pan that held long red filets that were two inches thick. She inhaled discreetly, then with more force. Nothing came to her nostrils but a vague scent of cold and brine. Exactly what fresh fish should smell like and almost never did.
    “Fantastic,” she said reverently. “Where do you get fish this fresh? Even Pike Place Market isn’t this good.”
    “Caught it this morning,” Jake said.
    She looked up into his blue-gray eyes and saw that he wasn’t joking. “Are you a commercial fisherman?”
    “Nope. A stomach fisherman. And Honor was the one who nailed this baby.”
    “Where?” Kyle asked instantly.
    “Off Fildalgo Head,” Honor said. “All eighteen pounds of him. The fish, not the headland.”
    “Blackmouth?” Kyle asked.
    Honor nodded. “A real beauty. Fierce and feisty. His teeth raked my finger when I was getting the hook out.” She showed a ragged red line along her right index finger. “But I figure he had a little of my blood coming. After all, we’re eating him. You should have seen it,” she said, her face lighting up with excitement. “He hit the lure like a runaway train and then—”
    “My wife hates to fish,” Jake interrupted, deadpan. “Just ask her.”
    “I can tell,” Lianne said, hiding her smile. “I caught a salmon once. A little one. But it tasted so good I’ve never forgotten it.”
    “This one will be better,” Honor said confidently. “Nobody does salmon like