One Big Happy Family Read online

  She’d thought she’d said that well, that her tone had been just right, but Kevin continued to frown.

  “You were right.” His voice was quiet. “I spend too much time with numbers and not enough with people. I didn’t mean to sound critical.”

  Sam shrugged. “It’s okay.”

  “No, it isn’t. You’re a thoughtful, unselfish woman in a selfish world.”

  “Oh.” The world was suddenly very still. Just her and Kevin and her foolishly racing heart. “Thank you.”

  He put his hands on either side of her, trapping her against her car door. Gentle rain was falling like silent kisses on her face. She couldn’t have moved if she had wanted to, but she certainly didn’t want to.

  “Your father is lucky to have you helping him,” he said.

  Suddenly there was just the two of them, staring into each other’s eyes. Sam’s gaze moved slightly, down to his lips. What would they feel like, pressed against hers? What joyful heaven would they bring? His sudden intake of breath told her he might be having the same thoughts. Then he pulled away, freeing her—although, for all the world, she still felt like a prisoner.

  “You’d better get on home,” he said, his voice sounding raw.

  She nodded, her mouth too dry to form words just yet. He waited while she unlocked the door. Or tried to. Her hand was shaking so, it took three tries to get the key in the lock. By the time she’d gotten inside, she’d found a topic she could cling to.

  “Looks like the rain is stopping,” she said.

  “Lock your door.”

  He stood there watching while she closed and locked her door, then backed out of the parking spot. By the time she was on the road, her nerves were almost steady enough to drive. That is, until she realized she would see him again tomorrow.

  Chapter Two

  Sam didn’t dress any differently the next morning just because Kevin was coming over. She put on the same old shorts she normally wore when working on the house, and the same faded Indiana University T-shirt. Kevin was coming to see the inn, not her. It was the shape of her business that would influence him, not the shape of her body.

  Sam was on her hands and knees scrubbing the sootencrusted stone around the fireplace in the front room-cumlobby when her father came in, carrying cans of paint for the kitchen.

  “You look like Cinderella over there,” he teased. “Prince Charming coming down the chimney soon?”

  “Dad, Santa comes down the chimney. Prince Charming comes through the front door.”

  “Speaking of which, I got your tickets last night. I put them on your dresser.”

  “Great.” Her father’s senior-citizen club was sponsoring a Las Vegas Night next Saturday to raise funds for the children’s literacy program.

  “So who’s going to be Prince Charming next week?” he asked.

  Sam stopped her scrubbing to stare at him. “Next week?”

  “You know, for the Las Vegas Night. Who you gonna let sweep you off your feet?”

  She just shook her head and went back to her scrubbing. “I wasn’t actually planning on using those tickets,” she admitted. “It’s for a good cause, so I bought them.”

  “Be a shame to waste them, though.” He stopped at the door to the kitchen, a thoughtful frown on his face. “Maybe Larry can find someone for you to take.”

  “Dad!” But it was too late. He was already in the kitchen, the door swinging shut behind him. Damn. If she wanted to go to the Las Vegas Night, she could find herself a date. She certainly didn’t need her brother to help her. Sam attacked the dirty stonework with renewed vigor.

  Nancy, Larry’s wife, dropped in a few minutes later. “I’m taking some stuff to the cleaners,” she said. “You need anything while I’m out?”

  Sam sat back on her heels and gave her sister-in-law a wry look. “No, thank you.” She shook her head. “Rosemary stopped by first thing this morning with some milk and bread. I told her we’re capable of buying a gallon of milk ourselves, but she said she was already out and what did it matter.”

  “I hope she bought two-percent, not whole. And was it wheat bread?”

  “Yes and yes,” Sam replied. “But we can still buy our own stuff. And we can take our own clothes to the cleaners.”

  “Dad in the kitchen?” Nancy asked, ignoring Sam’s words. “I’ll go say hello.” As she turned, her sister-in-law stopped and peered out the front window. “Oh, wow. Hunk alert.” Her eyes took on a new gleam as she turned back to Sam. “You expecting somebody? Somebody tall, dark and handsome?”

  “He’s from the savings and loan,” Sam said and perversely went back to scrubbing.

  “So? Hunks have to work, too.” Nancy opened the door. “Come on in. Cinderella’s on the hearth, as usual. Ciao, sis.”

  The door closed behind Kevin and Sam heard Nancy’s footsteps cross the room and fade into the kitchen.

  “Is that your other sister?”

  “No.” She put down her brush and got slowly to her feet, brushing back some of the unruly curls from her forehead as Kevin came closer, his all-too-familiar frown in place. “She’s my brother Larry’s wife. But she’s just as bossy as my regular sisters.”

  The frown disappeared, was replaced by a crinkly-eyed smile. Sam snatched an old towel off the floor and dried her hands with it. Then, as she was about to drop the towel on the floor, Kevin took it from her and wiped at her forehead.

  He was close to her—too close, for she had to fight back the urge to move even closer, into his arms, into his embrace. He seemed taller, his shoulders broader than she remembered. Nice, but not Prince Charming. At least, not her Prince Charming.

  “Traces of Cinderella,” he explained, showing her the sooty smudge now on the towel.

  “I see.” She stepped away from him but his soft, spicy scent followed her, wrapping her spirit in the promise of his embrace. She breathed it in, letting her heart dance for a moment, then called her common sense back in control. She had too much to accomplish before she could allow romance into her life. “So how do we do this? Want to look the place over first or see my business plan?”

  “Let’s check out your facilities,” he suggested. “I’ve got the notes from Dick’s inspection when you applied for your first loan, but I should see everything for myself.”

  She nodded. He didn’t really seem like he was spoiling for a fight. Maybe his initial frown was just part of his business attire. It wouldn’t hurt for her to put one on herself, just to keep her silly heart in line.

  “This is the former living room that we’ll use as a lobby,” she said, waving her hand at the spaciousness surrounding them as she led him across the floor to the next room. “And this is the dining room. It’s not especially large, but since we’re only going to be serving breakfast, it should easily take care of all our guests in two sittings.”

  “The woodwork original?” he asked.

  She nodded. “The place is in great condition. The wood needs some refinishing, but at least it’s never been painted over.”

  “When was the house built?”

  “In the 1890s.” Sam slid a massive oak door with thick glass panels out of the doorframe and ran her hand slowly over the surface. “I think I fell in love with these doors. They’re all over the place, between all the rooms down here and between the hallways upstairs.”

  Following her example, Kevin ran his hand appreciatively over the wood. “They don’t make houses like this anymore. No one wants to take the time.” His voice sounded less clipped, less brusque.

  “Or has the money,” she suggested.

  He walked over to one of the tall windows that looked out over a rolling lawn and opened a cabinet that was part of the window frame.

  “Shutters.” She joined him, pulling out wooden shutters from the opposite cabinet so that the bottom half of the window was covered. “All the windows have them.”

  He seemed preoccupied and Sam wondered if something was bothering him. Did he think the building was too old, n
ot maintained well enough?

  “It’s not the money that’s lacking.” He put the shutters back into their little closets. “There are houses up in Shamrock Hills that cost three times as much as this place that aren’t nearly as well made. Good things take time. What can be made fast, can spoil fast.”

  “I guess,” she said uncertainly. “Come on into the kitchen and meet my dad before I show you the suites upstairs.”

  He followed her through the swing door at the far end of the dining room and into the kitchen. Nancy was gone and her father was spreading drop cloths over the kitchen cabinets. He stopped to let Sam introduce them and shake hands with Kevin.

  “So, Mr. Delaney, you going to give us the extra money we need?” he asked.

  “Dad, we’ve hardly started discussing it,” Sam said.

  But Kevin ignored her. “It seems like a sound investment, Mr. Scott. And we take pride in helping the small businessman get started.”

  Dan Scott winked at his daughter. “Well, Sam, here, is small, but she’s not any kind of man,” he joked. “Maybe you need to take a closer look at her?”

  “Dad!” This was too much, especially after last night. Sam could feel Kevin’s gaze on her and knew without looking that, although his lips might be sharing her father’s joke, his eyes were not.

  “Why don’t I show you our guest suites?” she suggested.

  “Good idea.”

  She led him to the back stairs, conscious all the while of his eyes on her. She imagined that he could feel his breath tickling the back of her neck and that his gaze was as aware of the snug fit of her shorts as she suddenly was.

  “We have four suites that can each sleep up to four people, and two that could sleep eight with rollaway beds,” she said briskly. “Not that we’ll always have that many guests here. We—”

  “Samantha,” her father called from the sink.

  She stopped, even though a little voice inside her was urging her to run. “Yes?” she asked without turning around.

  “Bankers usually know a lot of people in the community.”

  “So?”

  “Maybe your banker friend would know of a Prince Charming who’s at loose ends at the moment,” her father suggested.

  Sam turned just enough to flash her father a tight smile, but not enough to catch more than a glimpse of Kevin. “It’s all right, Dad. I can handle it.” She went up the stairs as quickly as she could and still maintain her dignity.

  “Do most people call you Samantha?” Kevin asked from behind her. “Or do we get our choice?”

  She mixed a smile with a shrug as she waited at the top of the stairs. “My sisters decided it was too much of a mouthful when I was younger. Fiona would find someone had been in the cookie jar right before dinner, but before she could get my whole name out, the evidence was gone.”

  “Sounds like you should have refused a nickname. It took away your edge.”

  “I guess. I answer to either, though, so take your pick.”

  “No contest. I’ll stick to Sam.”

  His tone was as odd as his words had been but before she could question them, he moved to an open doorway. She followed.

  “This is one of our smaller suites,” she told him. “A small sitting room, with a bedroom and bath.”

  “Nice.” He stepped inside and flicked the switch to light up the brass ceiling fixture, then walked into the bedroom.

  “The wallpaper and drapes are still on order, so it’s hard to get an idea of what it’ll look like when it’s finished.”

  “I’ve got a good imagination.” He stepped into the bathroom and tried the faucets. “Is this one of the bathrooms held together by mineral deposits? Or are you just using rust in here?”

  If he was trying to intimidate her, it wouldn’t work. Not his reminder of yesterday’s fiasco or the chill creeping back into his voice. “There’s a plumbing report in your file, I’m sure,” she said. “We had the place inspected before we bought it. I’m just trying to correct the minor drips on my own.”

  “I see.”

  She was about to explain just how minor the minor drips were, when she heard footsteps on the stairs.

  “Sam?” Fiona called.

  What great timing. “In the corner suite,” Sam called back, then grimaced at Kevin. “It’s my sister Fiona.”

  Fiona bustled into the room. “Ah, there you are, Sam. Oh, I’m sorry. You have a guest.”

  “No problem,” Sam said and introduced Fiona to Kevin. “I think you met briefly yesterday.”

  “You sent me upstairs to interview Sam in her office,” Kevin noted.

  Fiona’s eyes reflected her confusion. “Her office?”

  “The sink cabinet in the north suite’s bathroom,” Sam said, wryly. “What can I do for you?”

  “I just happened to see this at the store last night.” She handed Sam a bag with a satisfied smile.

  “Thanks.” Sam took the bag reluctantly and knew what it was the moment she touched it. She pulled out a copy of the Reader’s Digest Complete Do-It-Yourself Manual.

  “Now that you have your own copy,” Fiona said, “you can take the library’s copy back before they make a public spectacle of you.”

  “Uh-oh. Now you’ve done it,” Sam said. “I purposely left my impending fine off my list of debts on the loan application form.”

  “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear,” Kevin told her, with the trace of a smile.

  “And I’ll be on my way,” Fiona said and went back downstairs.

  Sam put the book down and led Kevin out into the hall. “Come on, I’ll show you the larger suites.”

  “Okay,” he said.

  Their footsteps echoed on the bare wood floor, making a cold, lonely sound. She stopped at the first doorway and let him precede her. He had picked up a tuft of Toby’s hair somehow; it was stuck on the seat of his pants. She wanted to reach out and pull it off, but her hand froze at her side as if it didn’t dare touch those tight buns. As if it might not stop at plucking off the cat hair, but slide into a caress. This was crazy. Where had that thought come from?

  She cleared her throat. “These suites are also missing wallpaper and drapes,” she warned him. “All that stuff’s on order.”

  “I did assume you weren’t going to rent out the rooms with newspaper on the windows,” he said and made some notes on his pad.

  Her erratic heart had better fall into line. This man wasn’t her type at all. So why, then, was her heart suddenly trembling from being close to him, from watching the way his pulse beat at the base of his neck? She took a deep breath and turned away.

  “That it?” he asked.

  She was about to say yes—her mouth was open ready to agree—but perversely a different word came out. “No. One more thing.”

  She led him back down the stairs to the kitchen and then out the back door, stopping only to grab up the bag of bread crusts she kept in the refrigerator.

  He gave her a questioning look as they walked down the gently sloping back lawn, but she said nothing until they stopped at a wall of bushes alongside the path. She pushed the bushes aside and stepped into the tiny alcove they formed at the water’s edge.

  “What—”

  But then two majestic figures glided into view. “This is Romeo and Juliet,” Sam said.

  Kevin turned to frown at her. “You’re kidding.”

  “Hey, I didn’t name them,” she protested, and tossed some bread out onto the water. The swans moved in closer to pick up the pieces. “Those have been their names for as long as I’ve known them.”

  She held out the bag of bread, telling herself it hardly mattered if he wanted to feed the swans or not, yet her heart smiled when he reached into the bag. He broke the slice into pieces and tossed them slowly onto the water.

  “You make it sound like they’re old friends,” he said.

  “I guess they are. My sisters and I were at a day camp on the other side of the lake when I was six. We first met them then.”

&
nbsp; He whistled softly. “That must make them fairly old in bird years.”

  “I guess.” She wanted to tell him about the rescue, but was suddenly afraid of letting him know too much about her. She was supposed to be concentrating on making the bed-and-breakfast a success, not making eyes at the banker. She probably shouldn’t have brought him down to this secluded spot; not to the swan’s favorite feeding spot.

  “Well, that’s about it,” she said as she turned to push the bushes out of the way so he could get back on the path. She stopped suddenly and glanced at him. “Why Sam and not Samantha?” she asked.

  He turned to face her. The warmth of the summer scene was in his eyes and she felt like dry tinder ready to ignite at his slightest touch.

  She swallowed hard, sorry that she’d let the question fly out of her mouth. “You know. You said before you’d rather call me Sam than Samantha and I wondered why.”

  He looked uncertain for a moment—trapped? “It’s easier to remember,” he said with a shrug. “You know. It’s shorter.”

  She felt stupid for making a big deal of it. What had she thought he would say? What had she wanted him to say?

  Nothing, she told herself. Maybe the air out here was too thin. Or maybe it was the swans. Maybe seeing Romeo and Juliet with Kevin nearby had awoken in her heart that old woman’s weird promise about finding love.

  Except that love was the last thing she was looking for right now.

  She turned to duck through the bushes, a sudden need to hurry back to the house nipping at her heels, when she tripped over an exposed root. She tottered sideways for what seemed an eternity, then suddenly she wasn’t falling—at least, not in actuality. But she was in Kevin’s arms and staring up into his stormy eyes.

  She saw all sorts of emotions there—loneliness and fear, desire and longing, and mostly confusion. As if the strength of the storm in his heart had taken him by surprise.

  Or was she looking into a mirror and seeing her own reflection there? She needed him with a heat that had never burned her before. Her soul seemed seared and scorched from the touch of his hands on her and she yearned to lie closer in his arms, to feel the touch of his lips on hers; to let her heart taste the joy of his nearness.