Family Treasures

“There isn’t anything to tell,” Caitlin ground out. “He’s a new client. A client. That’s all. And the only reason I was—” she hated to admit it “—thinking about him was because he was the last appointment of the day.”

The last unscheduled appointment of the day. And if Caitlin would have known how it was going to turn out, she would have made sure Sabrina sent him on his merry way. Sans gift certificate!

“A client.” Meghan’s shoulders drooped. “Really?”

“Really.” Caitlin sounded so convincing, she almost believed it herself.

“Oh. Sorry, it’s just that we—” Meghan bit down on her lower lip to prevent the rest of the words from spilling out.

Not that it mattered. Caitlin could guess what she’d been about to say.

They didn’t want her to feel left out.

Both her sisters had found love within the past year and a half and their father, Patrick, teasingly took the credit for both successful matches. Even though Caitlin knew it had to be a total coincidence that Patrick’s hobby—finding lost family heirlooms—had inadvertently led to both her sisters meeting the men they’d fallen in love with.

Another reason to limit the number of visits to Cooper’s Landing! She didn’t want her father pulling her into any of his crazy schemes. Or playing matchmaker for the only single daughter left in the McBride family.

“It’s okay. Bask guilt-free in the glow of your own happiness,” Caitlin said. “You know I don’t have time for a relationship.”

“You won’t make time for a relationship,” Meghan countered. “And Mr. Darcy, as much as I love him, doesn’t count.”

“Ah, Megs—why did you say you stopped over?”

“I didn’t,” Meghan said brightly. “But since you brought it up, fettuccine sounds good.”

“Great.” Caitlin hopped to her feet again and escaped to the kitchen, grateful for the distraction.

She loved her sister dearly but she didn’t want to talk about Devon Walsh. She didn’t want to think about Devon Walsh. There’d been no daydreaming. No look.

Meghan followed, Mr. Darcy draped over her arm like a trendy purse. “So, this guy…what’s his name?”

Caitlin shot her a suspicious look. “Devon Walsh. Why do you ask?”

“Does he have a pocket protector? Thick glasses?”

“Meghan!” Caitlin choked back a laugh.

Humor backlit Meghan’s eyes, making them appear more green than gray. “Black socks and sandals?”

“You’re terrible.”

“But am I right?”

Not even close, Caitlin thought, as her traitorous memory instantly downloaded a series of images of Devon Walsh.

“Not every guy who comes to IMAGEine is a nerd, you know.”

“Uh-huh.” Meghan didn’t look convinced. “So that means he’s a stuffy exec who wants a raise.”

“Someone like Cade?” Caitlin asked wickedly.

“Cade isn’t stuffy.” Meghan paused. “Not once you get to know him anyway. Now, answer the question.”

“Was there a question?” Caitlin stalled, banging pots and pans together in a pathetic attempt to distract her sister. Or better yet, maybe she had some cookies—Meghan’s weakness—stashed somewhere.

“If your new client isn’t a nerd or a suit, what’s he like?”

Caitlin could tell she wasn’t going to be able to avoid the conversation. Not without making Meghan suspicious as to why she was avoiding the conversation. “Long hair.” Clean. And silky. “Five-o’clock shadow.” The stubble did kind of work for him, though. “Dark eyes.” Surrounded by laugh lines, although she hadn’t seen much evidence of a sense of humor.

Caitlin had a flashback of his Ricky Ricardo impersonation and smiled to herself. When she glanced at Meghan, her sister had a thoughtful look on her face.

Warning!

“He hired me for a simple style analysis.”

“So, there’s potential.”

“Absolutely not,” Caitlin said firmly. “He’s a writer, so he probably has the brooding, tortured artistic temperament…no offense, Megs…and I’m pretty sure we don’t have a thing in common—”

“Um, Cait?” Meghan interrupted her gently. “I wasn’t talking about that kind of potential. I meant potential in a professional sense.”

Caitlin blinked. “Of course you were. Because anything else would be ridiculous. A man who thinks suede elbow patches are still in style—” Caitlin realized she was rambling. Rambling! For the second time that day it felt as if the ground had suddenly shifted beneath her. The first time, of course, being when she’d walked into the reception area—in her stocking feet—and found Devon waiting for her….

Stay in control, Caitlin.

“I’m sure I have some Oreos. Somewhere.” Caitlin launched a search-and-rescue mission in the pantry. Searching for cookies, rescuing herself from Meghan’s knowing look.

“Take your time. I’m, ah, going to slip out and make a quick phone call.”

Caitlin took one look at the mischievous sparkle in her sister’s eyes and stifled a groan.

Of course she was.

“Watcha doing, Dad?” Brady and Josh’s heads popped up over the back of the couch.

Devon didn’t quite know how to answer the question.

Pacing? Dreading the next hour while looking forward to it at the same time? Because the contradiction that he was looking forward to seeing Caitlin again while knowing he shouldn’t be looking forward to seeing her was making him…pace.

“Do you remember Ms. McBride? The lady who came over to talk to Jenny last week?”

Josh nodded. “She’s the one who picked up Sunny.”

The awe in his son’s voice rankled. “She did scream.”

“But she picked her up anyway.”

“Very cool,” Brady chimed in.