His Unexpected Family

“She’s perfectly at liberty to withdraw the invitation.”

“Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you! But that’s not the way our family operates. The invitation stands.”

Kendra shrugged. “Then we’ll just have to wait till Friday to find out what Megan decides.”

“What Megan decides...or what her mother decides?”

Irritably, she sidestepped him and walked away. His cynical laugh followed her to the kitchenette, and echoed in her head long after he and his men had left for the day.

CHAPTER THREE

BRODIE got home from work that afternoon around five-thirty. Jodi was sitting on the front step, and when he jumped down from the truck, she ran over to meet him.

“Hi, Dad, I’ve been waiting for you.” She slipped her hand in his and they walked together to the picket gate that led to the back of the house. It snapped shut behind them as they stepped along the cement path. “Did you talk to Megan’s mom?” she asked eagerly. “About Saturday?”

“Yeah,” he said, “I talked with her.”

“And what did she say?”

In the backyard, Hayley was climbing out of the pool. She was wearing a black bikini that showed off her summer tan. She scooped up a towel and, running it through her waist-length brown hair, walked over to join them.

“Hi, Hayle,” he said. “How was your day?”

“Busy...but OK.” She wrapped the towel casually around her hips. “Dinner’ll be ready in half an hour.”

“Dad!” Jodi tugged the rolled-up sleeve of his denim shirt. “Is Megan coming on Saturday or what?”

“We won’t know till Friday.”

“Oh.” She wrinkled her nose. “That’s what Megan said. Her mom told her she had to not rush in and make best friends on her first day at school. I guess it makes sense.” But her sigh let him know how disappointed she was.

“Fingers crossed,” he said. “And I invited her mom to come, too, so she can get to know us.”

After a beat, Hayley asked, “What’s she like?” “Oh, she’s really neat!” Jodi said. “She enjoys most of the things I do—dancing, and math, and Barbies, and—”

“I meant the mother.” Hayley slipped her feet into the floral thongs she’d left on the patio, and looked at Brodie.

Sensing that Jodi had her ears perked, and that whatever he said would in all likelihood be repeated to Megan at the first opportunity, Brodie replied blandly, “She’s very pleasant.” And pigs can sing!

“Is she pretty?” Hayley tugged open the screen door.

“According to Mitzi,” he said evasively, “Kendra Westmore is drop-dead gorgeous.”

“But what do you think?” Hayley held the door open and her cornflower blue eyes seemed to laser right into him.

“Yeah.” He lifted his wide shoulders in a careless shrug. “The lady is indeed more than passably attractive.”

“Mmm.” The cornflower blue eyes became thoughtful.

But Hayley didn’t pursue the matter.

Not then; and not over dinner.

But later, as he was helping her with the washing up, she said in an offhand tone, “I hope the Westmore woman does decide to come over on Saturday.” She avoided his eyes as she handed him a pot to dry. “If Jodi and Megan are to become friends, then it would be a good thing to get to know the mother, too.”

Brodie had never understood the working of Hayley’s mind. The female mind. What man ever did understand the workings of such an intricate mechanism! But he had the disturbing feeling that Hayley was up to something. He had no idea what it was; and he knew better than to ask.

All would be revealed, he had no doubt, in the fullness of time.

Next morning Kendra was out back, having just watched Megan cycle off to school, when Brodie’s truck rumbled around the corner.

Though feeling defensive after their last encounter, she resisted the urge to scurry away. Instead she stood her ground, and slipping her hands into the pockets of her airy summer skirt, she waited for him to approach.

He was wearing a black T-shirt and khaki shorts and heavy workboots that crunched on the gravel as he walked. The man, she reflected bleakly, was all tan and muscle and hard male arrogance.

But she wasn’t the only one doing the looking. He was giving her a thorough once-over, his deliberate gaze taking in the sleek swing of her blond hair; the swell of her breasts under her tank top; and the slender length of her legs, revealed to him in all their shapely glory as a gust of wind plastered the full skirt to her thighs.

She felt as exposed as if she’d been naked but she refused to adjust the thin fabric, knowing that if she did he would see her discomfiture...and gloat over it.

She tilted her head regally. “Since you’re going to be in and out a lot you ought to have a key to the back door.” She drew the spare key from the pocket where she’d stored it. “That way, when I’m not around, you can come and go as you please.”

“Thanks.” He took the key and shoved it into his hip pocket. “So...why so sour this beautiful morning? Bad hair day? No—” his gaze drifted over her hair “—can’t be that. No sirree.”

The sudden heat in her cheeks wasn’t due to the sun. With fake pleasantry, she said, “Brodie, our relationship is a strictly business one. If you don’t want to be sued for sexual harassment, you’ll avoid making comments like that.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Can’t a man pay a simple compliment these days without ending up in court?”

“In a business situation,” she said in a supercilious tone, “personal comments are totally out of place.”

“Mmm. Am I to understand then that if you and your daughter accept our family invitation on Saturday, I’ll be free to express my admiration for any part of your anatomy which attracts my attention?”

Through gritted teeth, she muttered, “That’s not what I said!”

“How about if we ever go out on a date, then? Just the two of us? Would it be OK then?”

The man was married, for heaven’s sake, with children. But even if he’d been single and the most eligible bachelor in town, she wouldn’t have considered going out with him. He hadn’t changed one bit—he was still the same incorrigible flirt he’d been as a teenager!

“Yes.” Her voice was honey-sweet. “It would be OK then. But since I shall never go out on a date with you, Brodie, the question doesn’t... nor ever will ... arise.”

“Never say never.”

“Oh, I can say it and with more conviction than I’ve ever said anything in my life. I shall never—read my lips, Mr. Spencer—never go out on a date with you.”

She swirled away from him and made for the back door.

But as she stalked into the house she heard him call after her in that mocking tone that had already become so familiar.

“Famous last words, Ms. Westmore. Famous last words.”