One Big Happy Family Page 5

  They broke apart suddenly and Sam stepped back against the bushes, her legs weakened and her soul trembling. She felt Kevin turn and heard his ragged breathing, but she needed a deep breath, then another before her voice had the strength to speak. She couldn’t be so affected by him. He wasn’t her type.

  “Maybe we’d better go inside,” she said, needing an oasis to regroup.

  “Sounds like a wise thought.”

  He pushed aside the bushes and she ducked through them, her legs luckily finding the power to walk. She could just see herself if they hadn’t: an untidy heap in the middle of the yard. Kevin would stop to stare at her. She would just smile politely and ask him to explain to her father that she’d fallen apart from Kevin’s touch and needed those old crutches in the garage to get back to the house.

  “Everything seems in order,” Kevin said as he walked behind her.

  She stared ahead. Just what might not be in order?

  “It’s just a matter of filling out a report on my visit and getting the approval of the other officers.”

  She stopped to glance over her shoulder at him. “Oh. The loan,” she said lamely as she opened the back door, then smiled in relief at the sound of footsteps approaching. “The cavalry.” And it was needed this time.

  Her sister-in-law Diane appeared in the hallway. “Oh, there you are, Sam. Oops, sorry. I didn’t know you had a guest.”

  Right. As if the Scott telegraph system hadn’t alerted the whole city. “My banker,” Sam said with a wave of her hand at Kevin. She didn’t mean to be rude, but introducing him would involve looking his way and that might involve meeting his gaze and that would definitely involve collapsing into that untidy heap on the floor.

  “Oh,” Diane said with a bright smile in Kevin’s direction before turning a sisterly frown on Sam. “I just wanted to tell you I’ve got the laundry. I’ll bring it back tomorrow.”

  “Okay.” Sam didn’t have the strength to argue. “Thanks.”

  They followed Diane back into the living room. Right foot, left foot. Her eyes closed. Lordy, his shoulders were broad. It had been heaven to be in his arms. She opened her eyes and concentrated on walking. Much safer. By the time they got to the other room, Sam had found enough strength to smile a businesslike smile.

  “We never looked at my business plan,” she reminded.

  “That’s all right. I’ve got a preliminary copy here.” He stopped to pick up a book lying on the table near the door. The library’s copy of the Complete Do-It-Yourself Manual. “I’ll drop this off at the library. I’m driving right past it.”

  All her wobbliness faded faster than the river’s mist in the hot summer sun. “You will not!” she cried and tried to grab the book from his hands.

  His eyes warred with hers briefly as their hands warred over the book. The anger in his gaze this time wasn’t cool and distant; it was raging hot, but she stared him down.

  “Caveman,” she hissed.

  He frowned and let go of the book. “Scarlett O’Hara.”

  “She survived the burning of Atlanta,” Sam declared, hugging the book to her chest.

  “And cavemen survived the Ice Age.”

  He picked up his folder and slammed out the door before Sam could ask him what in the world that was supposed to mean. She turned to walk into the kitchen.

  “Did you ask your friend to stay to lunch?” Diane asked.

  “No.”

  “Did you ask him to the Las Vegas Night?” her father wanted to know.

  “For goodness’ sake,” she snapped. “He’s my banker, that’s all.”

  Sam shoved the unwrapped hamburger in Cassie’s face. “Look at that,” Sam demanded. After her little discussion with Larry in front of the library, Sam was in no mood for compromise. “This is the last straw.”

  “Yeah?” Cassie looked cautiously at the sandwich and then back at Sam. “What is?”

  “Pickles,” Sam hissed through her clenched teeth. “You know how I hate pickles.”

  “Pick them out.”

  Sam sighed and dropped her head on Cassie’s desk. After leaving Larry, Sam had wanted to go off and kick something or somebody. Instead she’d come over to join Cassie for lunch, stopping at a fast-food drive-through on her way over.

  “You want me to pick them out for you?” Cassie offered.

  “No.” Sam sat up and picked out the pickle slices, flinging each one down onto the paper sandwich wrapper. “You know, if I wanted reasonable and sympathetic, I could have had lunch with Fiona.”

  “Sorry,” Cassie replied as she bit into her sandwich.

  “Cassie,” Sam wailed. “Just look at yourself. You’re getting to be so genteel and ladylike that pretty soon I won’t be able to tell the difference between you and Fiona.”

  “I don’t think there’s any danger of that.”

  “Oh, yeah? When’s the last time you hit somebody?”

  Cassie smiled, looking almost like a sixth grader after her first kiss. Sam pushed aside the sense that something was missing from her life—something that Cassie had found. That was crazy, Sam assured herself. Her life was full. She didn’t need anything or anybody else in it.

  “There are other ways to get what you want,” Cassie said. “Ways that are more fun.”

  Sam felt a little shiver of concern ripple through her body. She could always get a rise out of Cassie. Or at least, she used to be able to. But not anymore. Pregnancy and her impending marriage had turned her sister into an angel. All the foundations of Sam’s world were crumbling.

  “Are you going to finish your french fries?” Sam asked.

  “Boy.” Cassie pushed the package of fries toward her. “You sure got a burr up your saddle today.”

  Sam made a slight face as she continued eating. She couldn’t hide anything from her sisters. Both of them knew that Sam went on eating binges when she was upset. “You know where I can get myself a good hit man?” she asked.

  “Which one of the boys do you want to eliminate?” Cassie asked.

  “Larry,” Sam replied with a glare. “Although Bobby and Adam are just as deserving.”

  “Who’s he trying to fix you up with now?”

  “I don’t know.” Sam slurped up the last of her strawberry shake, almost hoping that Cassie would bop her on the head for making such a disgusting noise. But her sister just sat there, smiling sympathetically. Sam slammed the empty drink container into the wastebasket. “Someone he works with.”

  She watched as Cassie cleaned up the rest of the garbage from her desk. “Actually, I don’t care who it is or where he comes from,” Sam said. “I just don’t want any of the boys butting into my life.”

  “You’re the only one who can fix that,” Cassie said.

  “Right. That’s why I want to hire a hit man.”

  “Get serious, Sam.”

  Sam slouched back in her chair. The hit man didn’t have to kill them. He could just kidnap all three brothers and drop them off in the middle of the ocean or deep in the jungles of South America. By the time they found their way home, she would have her life under control. Maybe.

  “You’ve got to take charge, Sam. Show them that you don’t need their interference.”

  “Wow,” Sam replied. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

  “You must have taken some science classes to get your degree in library science.” Cassie was obviously ignoring her sarcasm. “Didn’t you learn that nature abhors a vacuum?”

  Sam nodded and shrugged at the same time. She’d never been a science whiz but she did remember how air, or something, always rushed in to fill a vacuum.

  “Well, our brothers are the same way,” Cassie said. “They can’t stand it when they see us alone. So they have to rush out and find us a boyfriend.”

  “So, in order to keep them out of my life, I have to get a boyfriend?”

  “Not a real boyfriend,” Cassie said. “But you have to fill that vacuum.”

  “Maybe I should go out and buy one of those m
ale mannequins. You know, the kind women put in the passenger seat when they drive around alone at night.”

  “I think you need something that walks and talks.”

  Sam made a face and looked around Cassie’s cluttered little office. Both her sisters had everything they wanted in their lives. They had their men and they had their careers. Sam wanted to get her life in order before she went looking for a man of her own.

  Trouble was, she wasn’t sure what getting her life in order meant. Mom had thought she would be a great children’s librarian, and Sam hadn’t had any other ideas, so that was what she’d studied in school. Dad wanted to run a bedand-breakfast and couldn’t do it alone, so Sam jumped in to help. She enjoyed all of it, but none of it ever seemed to satisfy her soul.

  Kevin’s statement about following everyone else’s dreams nagged at her like a pesky mosquito. But what was wrong with helping others reach a dream, when she didn’t have one of her own to reach for?

  “Find someone who doesn’t want to get serious,” Cassie advised. “Someone who’s safe.”

  “You mean, like a married man?”

  “Not in the married-to-a-wife sense,” Cassie said. “But maybe somebody who’s married to his job. Or married to his past. Someone who’d like some fun but no commitment.”

  Sam grunted. According to Cassie, all of her previous relationships would qualify.

  Chapter Three

  Kevin pulled the car up to the curb in front of the old house late Friday morning and took a deep breath as he turned the motor off. He didn’t know why he was doing this. A vision of Sam—soft, warm, womanly—filled his mind and he corrected himself. All right, he knew damn well why he was doing it, but he also knew that he shouldn’t be doing it. That woman was dangerous to the peace and well-being of his mind.

  He picked up his leather-bound folder and got out of the car. He’d hoped that once the loan process was over, she would step out of his life and stop haunting him; that there would be no more reason for him to see her, and all further transactions would be done through the mail or handled by the bank’s clerical staff.

  Except that the loan committee was concerned. The loan was large; the Scotts were inexperienced. There would have to be periodic inspections, at least for the first year. And it would be Kevin’s job to make them.

  The front door, looking freshly painted, was standing slightly open so Kevin squeezed inside. “Hello?” he called out. “Anybody here?”

  Toby jumped down from his sun-drenched window seat and glared at Kevin.

  “Hey, I just need to get some papers signed. Then I’m gone, at least for a while.” Kevin paused for a moment to trade stares with His Royal Highness. A noise from the kitchen drew his attention and he pushed open the door. “Hello?”

  Sam was at the sink, washing paintbrushes, and looked up. A smile bathed her face in sunshine. “Hi. What are you doing here? Need to see my business plan, after all?”

  “Nope.” He put his folder down on the kitchen table and pulled out a stack of papers and a pen. “Just need you and your dad’s signatures in a few places and the money will be deposited in your account.”

  “Just like that?” She wiped her hands on a towel as she came over to the table. “Wow. It hasn’t even been a week since you looked at the house.”

  “Well, it’s not quite that simple,” he said. Her light brown hair was catching the sunlight so that it sparkled with gold. He could run his fingers through it and be richer than he’d ever dreamed.

  “Oh?”

  He dragged himself back to reality. “The bank wants me to make periodic inspections for the first year, at least.”

  “And if we don’t pass, they’ll revoke the loan?”

  He shook his head quickly. “No, nothing like that. If I spot any problems, we’ll advise you on what you should do or steer you to someone who can help.” He put on his banker voice. “We like to think of ourselves as partners with our clients. We want to help you succeed.”

  “I see.” She looked down at the papers he’d taken out of his folder. “So where do I sign?”

  He handed her the pen. “Here.” He pointed to a spot. “And here, here and here.”

  In a matter of moments, it was done. Her signature was in all the right places.

  “My dad’s not here,” she said as she handed his pen back. “Can you leave the papers or do you need to come back?”

  His heart said he would like to come back but his head said he didn’t need to. Not quite so soon. “He can sign it without me. Just have someone other than you witness it and then you can mail the papers back to me.” He slipped his pen back into his pocket. “I’ll be stopping in every couple of weeks, but feel free to call if you should have any questions sooner. Your new payment book will be mailed to you about a week after we get the signed papers.”

  “This feels too simple,” she said with a laugh. “You can’t rush off right away or I’ll figure I dreamed the whole thing.”

  Her mouth was soft with laughter but he was sure that passion danced just below the surface. Oh, baby. His own passions were starting to burn like a teenager’s. Time for him to hit the road. And the sooner, the better.

  “At least, you have to stay for lunch,” Sam said. “I heat up a mean can of soup.”

  “I should be getting back,” he replied. To work, golf, go out and buy an ice-cream cone. As long as it was out of here.

  “You have to eat. How about a bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwich?”

  “You have enough to do around here without serving lunch.” His argument sounded weak even to himself. It was all due to those damn eyes. A gentle blue, so calm but fringed with laughter. He glanced at them again. Unfortunately, they seemed to glow with more than laughter.

  “Dad’s having lunch with some other bed-and-breakfast owners, but I have to eat myself,” she said. “A few more slices of bacon means more work for the microwave, not me.”

  “All right. But only if you let me help.” He did have to eat, and what difference would a few more minutes of her company make?

  None, he told himself. Absolutely none. Sure, she was a beautiful little enchantress. But, hell. It wasn’t like she was the only one in the world. His own bank was full of attractive young ladies. They didn’t upset his equilibrium. No reason why Sam should.

  “How about if you handle the soup and I’ll do the sandwiches?” She opened a cabinet of canned goods. “Take your pick. I like anything that’s there.”

  Kevin shook his head. He’d been doing that a lot, lately. Hang around with Sam long enough and he could sell his head for a rattle. Setting his face in a businesslike frown, he walked over to the pantry and checked out the array. Everything from consommé to split pea. “You’re easy to please.”

  “You go hungry if you’re too picky in a big family.” He heard her bustling about behind him, opening the refrigerator door. “Want rye, wheat or white bread?”

  “Rye.”

  “Toasted or not?”

  “Toasted.”

  He took out a can of chicken noodle and studied the label. “They shouldn’t put the noodles in with the soup. They just get soggy.”

  She took the can from his hand and replaced it with a can of chicken vegetable. “Then heat this up and cook your own noodles. Pasta’s on the shelf above the soup, and pots are in the cabinet to the right of the stove.”

  He got the water started for the noodles and put the soup on a low flame. It was surprising how comfortable it felt working with Sam in the kitchen. He’d thought that his domestic urges had died with Debbie.

  “The soup’ll never get warm turned down that low,” Sam said as she slid the bacon plate into the microwave.

  “Hey, you assigned this area to me, so let me take care of it. If I fail, let me fail on my own.”

  “I thought that was my song,” she said with a laugh.

  Smiling, he gave the now boiling pasta a few stirs and then turned his attention to the soup. “You’re a bit on the bossy side for
a younger sibling, aren’t you?”

  Sam’s laughter was louder, filling the kitchen with its teasing sound.

  “Inside every youngest child there’s a control freak waiting to burst out.”

  “I didn’t know that,” he replied.

  “We get bossed around a good part of our lives. When we get our chance, we make the most of it.”

  Still smiling, he turned down the heat under the pasta pot. For a moment the kitchen was filled with the sound of running water and then there was silence. A silence that softly crackled with an unnamed tension. A yearning.

  “Did you know your wife a long time before you got married?” Sam asked. “No, that’s none of my business and Fiona would tell me I’m being rude.”

  “I don’t mind the question,” he said and surprisingly he didn’t. He watched the pasta water slow to a soft boil before turning to lean on the counter, facing Sam. “We grew up together. I was in fourth grade when she was in first and I was supposed to walk her to and from school each day. I thought no kid had ever been so put upon.”

  She smiled, making him feel that this sharing of his past was something special. “Did she make life miserable for you?”

  Kevin shook his head as he stared down that portion of his memory lane. “No, that wasn’t Debbie. She’d just look at me with her big brown eyes and make me feel like a rat.”

  “When did you decide she wasn’t a pest?”

  “Probably somewhere around sixth grade, when I was at the losing end of a fight. She came flying into the middle of it, her Rocky and Bullwinkle lunch box swinging right and left. They had glass thermoses back then, and those things were heavy. Hers broke, but we won.”

  “And became friends.”

  “Or at least no longer enemies. We sort of took our time about going from one stage to the next. When her parents moved across the country right after we started college, we decided to get married and make our own home.”

  The noodles were done and so was the bacon, so Kevin was able to retreat into himself as they served up the food. But surprisingly, he didn’t really feel the need to pull back. As they sat down to eat, an aura of comfort settled around them. The attraction he’d felt for Sam was exciting but it was nice to be able to relax with her, too.