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She sighed, and hugged her arms around herself.
Her grandfather.
She could still scarcely believe he was gone. And she could still scarcely believe he had left her everything. Not only Rosemount, but all his money. She’d assumed that when he had written her out of his life, he had written her out of his will, too.
She had been mistaken.
Once she’d gotten over her shock, she’d given in her notice at the small hotel where she worked as a chef; spent the next twenty-four hours disposing of her meager household possessions; and then had driven, with Megan, to Lakeview.
She’d been glad to get out of the city.
And filled with growing joy at the prospect of bringing Megan up in the town where she had herself grown up.
She had always loved Lakeview. It had never occurred to her that once there, she’d find a fly in the ointment
Brodie Spencer!
And speak of pesky flies! she thought as a familiar red truck appeared around the side of the house and pulled up a few yards from the kitchen door. This one was back!
As Brodie jumped down from the cab, a blue van came into sight and spun to a halt, its rear wheels scattering white gravel chips into the air.
Two men emerged. Both wore checked shirts, heavy-duty jeans, workboots. Brodie himself had changed and looked more ruggedly sexy than ever in beat-up jeans, a sun-faded denim shirt, and heavy leather boots.
The two men followed Brodie as he strode to the door.
Squaring her shoulders, Kendra went to let them in. One day at a time, she told herself. Take it one day at a time.
“What are you doing here, Mom?” Megan scowled as she walked her bike over to her mother. “I know my way home!”
Kendra moved her own bike back to let some children scuffle past her through the school gates. “I just had to get out of the house! There’s such a racket, workmen tearing down cupboards and—”
“Hey, Jodi,” Megan called. “Wait up!”
Kendra suddenly noticed the Spencer child a few yards away on the sidewalk. She was wheeling her bike towards the road. The girl turned and shouted to Megan, “Can’t! I gotta go!” And with that, she threw herself onto her bike and pedaled away like mad along the street.
Megan yelled after her, “But you said—” She broke off as she realized that Jodi was now too far away to hear.
Pouting, Megan looked at her mother. “If you hadn’t turned up, Jodi was going to take me to the rec center. The dance teacher’s going to be signing up new members for beginners’ jazz, and I wanted to put my name down.”
“Jazz? But what about your ballet? I thought—”
“I can do both. Jodi’s in jazz and ballet and tap.” Megan’s determined tone made it quite clear to Kendra that keeping the two girls apart wasn’t going to be easy.
“And don’t say we can’t afford it!” Megan’s cheeks had become flushed. “Maybe we couldn’t before, when we had to watch our pennies...but you hit the jackpot big-time when your granddaddy died and—”
“Hit the jackpot?” Kendra stared at her daughter. “Big-time? When my granddaddy died? Young lady, if that’s the kind of talk you’re hearing from Jodi Spencer, you can forget about jazz lessons, and Saturday outings to the Spencer place—in fact, you can just forget having anything to do with that girl! And we’re going home. Right now!”
Megan muttered something under her breath. “What did you say?”
“It wasn’t Jodi. At least, she just told me what she heard...somebody else...saying.”
And who might that somebody else have been? Kendra thought bitterly. There was only one answer to that.
“Let’s go!” she snapped.
Megan did get on her bike, and she did ride home with her mother. In body, if not in spirit. But as soon as they were inside, she headed for the stairs.
“Where are you going?” Kendra asked.
“Up to my room to do my homework.”
“Don’t you want a snack?”
“I’m not hungry.”
“We’ll eat at five, then. In the kitchenette. I’ll call you once the men have gone home for the day.”
Dam it, she thought as Megan took off up the stairs, the last thing she wanted to do was fight with her daughter. Sighing, she crossed the foyer and made for the servants’ quarters.
She could hear, up ahead, the whine of a chainsaw. Bangs and crashes. Voices and loud music. Laughter.
She was walking along the shadowy corridor past the kitchen when the door swung open and Brodie came out
They collided with a thump and she was thrown wildly off balance. He lunged after her and grabbed her upper arms to pull her upright and steady her.
She felt his fingers bruising her flesh, felt his warm breath on her cheeks. His hands smelled of fresh wood shavings and his body smelled of not-so-fresh sweat—a musky male odor that should have been repellent but instead was disturbing in a dark and primal way.
“You OK?” he asked.
“Yes.” Her voice was stiff.
He released her. “Sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going.”
“It was just as much my fault.” She made to move on.
“Before you go—”
“Yes?”
“About Saturday.”
She tensed. And waited.
“How about if we include you in the invitation? That way you’ll get to see for yourself what we’re all about. The Spencer family, that is.” His eyes had a hard gleam. “Just because you and I can’t get along doesn’t mean our kids can’t be friends. And I believe it’s important that children be allowed to choose their own friends—unless there’s good reason to interfere.”
She met his gaze stubbornly. “As I told you, Megan and I have agreed to wait till Friday before she decides.”
“Meanwhile Jodi sits back and cools her heels?”
“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.”
