Family of Three

Table of Contents

Cover Page

Excerpt

Dear Reader

Title Page

Dedication

About the Author

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Copyright

“You’re sending mixed signals, Alysia,”

Jacob murmured.

She forced herself to release her hold on him. “Not…intentionally. You caught me by surprise, that’s all.”

“It just goes to prove our curiosity wasn’t satisfied.”

“What?”

“Remember yesterday.?” He laughed indulgently. “I kissed you, then you returned the favor?”

Her mind formed a round O. Of course she remembered. She’d have to be dead not to. “Well…this time it was mutual. We just finished covering the possibilities.”

“Not all the possibilities, Miss McKenna.”

Dear Reader,

From classic love stories to romantic comedies to emotional heart tuggers, Silhouette Romance offers six irresistible novels every month by some of your favorite authors—and some sure to become favorites. Just look at the lineup this month:

In Most Eligible Dad, book 2 of Karen Rose Smith’s wonderful miniseries THE BEST MEN, a confirmed bachelor becomes a FABULOUS FATHER when he discovers he’s a daddy.

A single mother and her precious BUNDLE OF JOY teach an unsmiling man how to love again in The Man Who Would Be Daddy by bestselling author Marie Ferrarella.

I Do? I Don’t? is the very question a bride-to-be asks herself when a sexy rebel from her past arrives just in time to stop her wedding in Christine Scott’s delightful novel.

Marriage? A very happily unmarried police officer finally says ‘I do” in Gayle Kaye’s touching tale Bachelor Cop.

In Family of Three by Julianna Morris, a man and a woman have to share the same house—with separate bedrooms, of course….

Debut author Leanna Wilson knows no woman can resist a Strong, Silent Cowboy—and you won’t be able to, either!

I’d love to know what you think of the Romance line. Are there any special kinds of stories you’d like to see more of, less of? Your thoughts are very important to me—after all, these books are for you!

Sincerely,

Melissa Senate,

Senior Editor

Please address questions and book requests to:

Silhouette Reader Service

U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269

Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont L2A 5X3

Family of Three

Julianna Morris

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Dad, you taught me the music of words, the poetry of a loving heart and the need to reach for a star. Though you are gone, your inspiration will always be with me. I love you.

JULIANNA MORRIS

has an offbeat sense of humor, which frequently gets her into trouble. She is often accused of being curious about everthing…her interests ranging from’oceanography and photography to traveling, antiquing, walking on the beach and reading science fiction. Choosing a college major was extremely difficult, but after many changes she earned a bachelor’s degree in environmental science.

Julianna’s writing is supervised by a cat named Gandalf, who sits on the computer monitor and criticizes each keystroke. Ultimately, she would like a home overlooking the ocean, where she can write to her heart’s content—and Gandalf’s malcontent. She’d like to share that home with her own romantic hero, someone with a warm, sexy smile, lots of patience and an offbeat sense of humor to match her own. Oh, yes.and he has to like cats.

Prologue

One Hundred Years Ago

Captain James Reynolds looked up from his journal and swore tiredly. Through the window he could see his wife, standing on the bluff and gazing out to sea. The wind swept her gown around her, accentuating the womanly curves of her body, heavy with his child. His manhood swelled, though her birthing time was too near to allow his passion freedom.

They had fought again. A bitter, angry battle. She wanted to travel on his ship, taking part in his business. But it was insane. The sea was unpredictable. He could not guarantee her safety, though he would give his life in keeping harm from her.

From their first meeting he’d been a man possessed. Her eyes enthralled him—mysterious, shifting, changing like the ocean, holding all the secrets he had ever dreamt of knowing. She had led him a merry chase, yet he couldn’t help loving her.

James lifted his pen. I understand her less now than ever, he wrote, pouring out his frustration and despair. If she was jealous, if she suspected me of being unfaithful, then I would understand. But she knows I would never betray our love. Were she not so sure it might be better. My beautiful lady, can you not be happy? Am I not enough for you, as you are for me?

James stared at the page. He could only hope. In time, she might find happiness with him.

The Astoria settlement was rocked by the news—the wife of Captain Reynolds had deserted him for another man, leaving behind her infant son and stealing her husband’s fortune.

Consumed by hatred, James obliterated his wife’s memory. No man or woman dared speak her name, except a stubborn midwife who swore Mrs. Reynolds would never have left her husband and child. But no one listened.

In the harsh silence of the fine house he’d built for their love, James taught his son to distrust women. to look for a meek, docile bride who wouldn’t tempt the soul from his heart and body.

The years passed. Tales of a ghost were deliciously spread. The unfaithful wife had been punished for her sins and was doomed to walk the sea cliffs in eternal damnation.

And in time, a grandson, and then a great-grandson were born.

Chapter One

The Present

“Stupid thing. Won’t fit…blasted…ouch!”

A series of mumbled curses came from under the sink. Two slender legs extended out from the cabinet, and a toolbox lay open with its contents scattered. A well-worn book on plumbing was propped open until the legs knocked against it and the volume fell forward in a heap.

A brown tiger-striped cat sat on its haunches, listening to his human mutter. From time to time he added his own “merowit” to the litany. Abruptly, one of the woman’s feet raised and kicked, and the startled feline jumped straight into the air. With a practiced air of caution, he sniffed the offending foot and meowed.

“Sorry, Captain,” Alysia said breathlessly.

The Captain raised his right paw and licked it. His life was untroubled by such mundane considerations as plumbing.

Another splat of dirty water hit Alysia in the eye. “Jacob Reynolds,” she swore, “I’m going to get even with you.”

Revenge was going to be heaped on the man’s head. She’d been swearing the same thing each day since she signed the three-year lease on his dilapidated house and property. She was definitely going to get even with him.

“Right?” she asked the enormous feline. He stared at her in his sphinx pose and didn’t answer. She grinned.

Abruptly, a loud knocking came from the front of the house, along with the trill of door chimes. Alysia scooted out, wiped her face with her left arm, then adjusted the sling around the plaster cast on her right wrist. She’d had it. Budget or not, she was calling a plumber. A real one. The knocking continued as she hurried to the foyer.

“Just a minute,” she called. Through the beveled-glass inserts of the door she saw a tall man with cool gray eyes and a determined face. “Jeez, another tourist,” she grumbled, even as her heart skipped unaccountably.

Dark and sexy. He looked familiar, but she wasn’t sure why. In spite of his forbidding expression, there was something appealing about the cleft in his chin, and the tiny lines at the corners of his eyes and mouth. Worry? Laughter? Pain? Her instant attraction to him wasn’t logical, but Alysia rarely concerned herself with logic.

“It’s about time,” the man snapped as the door swung open.

She stretched her five-foot-seven-inch frame to its full height. “The shop isn’t open. Didn’t you read the sign?” Alysia realized she should be more diplomatic, but she didn’t like pushy tourists—even if this one did send flickers of awareness jitterbugging through her veins.

“What shop?”

Her fingers gripped the door. Was he as smart as he looked? Or just a sexy moron? “Down there, it’s called the Captain’s Lair.” She pointed to the large structure, actually an old converted barn, which sat just off the road at the foot of the hill.

“You mean you’ve got some kind of shop in there?”

“It’s an antique store.” She gave in to temptation and shoved the door. Unfortunately, a large male foot obstructed the way. Her only consolation was the wince of pain crossing his bad-tempered face. “Get out of here,” she cried when he pushed inside. “This is my house.”

“Correction.” He whipped around. “This is my house, and I want to know what you’re doing here, and why my key won’t work.”

Startled, Alysia pushed a mass of sun-streaked hair from her forehead. Surely this couldn’t be Jacob Reynolds? The source of her daily frustration? The perpetually unavailable landlord who never returned calls or answered letters? Whose lawyer sounded nice, but put up roadblocks the size of Mount Everest?

Then it struck her. No wonder he seemed familiar—he looked just like the painting of Captain James Reynolds hanging in the study. The first time she’d seen the painting Alysia had felt an odd flash of recognition, and it came stronger now that she was face-to-face with his descendent. They shared the same look of self-assurance, the same authoritative bearing…and the same sensual shape to their lips. The biggest difference was that Captain Reynolds possessed a devil-may-care glint in his pirate’s eyes that his great-grandson decidedly lacked.

“Jacob Reynolds, I presume?” she said with a smile.

“Yes. And answer my questions.”

Alysia laughed. This was going to be fun. “I’m pleased to meet you. I’ve always believed tenants and landlords should get to know one another.”

Jacob’s eyes narrowed. He wasn’t anybody’s landlord. She was trespassing on his property, and he wanted her out. Besides, the way she’d said landlord sounded like an insult. Yet…he hesitated. Her green eyes seemed transparently honest and her manner was direct, without the usual feminine coyness.

“Look, I don’t know what kind of scam you have going, but I suggest you leave.” The woman laughed again and he tightened his fists. All his doubts, all his dislike of the old house, came rushing back. Only the knowledge that his fragile young daughter waited in the car kept him from returning to Portland and calling the proper authorities to handle the situation.

“But I have an unbreakable lease.as your lawyer, Matt Braeden, has pointed out numerous times. How could I leave? I mean, how could I want to leave the antiquated plumbing and wiring, not to mention the leaky roof and falling plaster?”

“You can’t have a lease. This was my grandparents’ home and I would never rent it.” Jacob thrust his fingers through his black hair in agitation.

“You certainly did. I’ll show you a copy.” Wheeling around, Alysia marched down the hall and into a side room.

Jacob followed, noticing the paneling on the study walls appeared to have been cleaned—he hadn’t remembered the wood having such a rich patina. He also noticed the woman’s jeans were a snug fit in the backside—the worn fabric molded her curves in a way he couldn’t help but notice.

She yanked a sheaf of papers from a drawer in the captain’s desk and waved it in front of his face. He groaned when he saw the signature. He must have signed the lease in the confused weeks after Tracy’s accident. “Miss—” he checked the name beside his own “—Miss McKenna, this is a mistake.”

“Oh?” She didn’t look particularly sympathetic.

“Yes. I own some other property down the coast, and I thought a dairy farmer wanted to use the land for pasture. It never occurred to me the lease was for the house. You see, I brought my mother and daughter down with me. We’re planning to stay for a while.”

“Really? Where are you going to stay?”

“Here,” he exploded. “This is my house.”

Alysia plucked the document from his hands and surveyed it with a great deal of satisfaction. She was nothing if not stubborn. An hour ago she would have shredded the lease with a sigh of relief. Now she was determined to re main. “This is a legal contract saying it’s mine for the next three years.”

“I’ll buy you out of it.”

“Not interested.”

“I’ll pay you double,” Jacob insisted, resisting the urge to wring the woman’s neck. He abhorred violence, but he’d been through too much during the past few months: doctors, hospitals, hopes raised, hopes crushed, his daughter suffering and discouraged. They desperately needed a change.

“I’m not interested,” she repeated. “I like it, even if it is falling apart. Don’t you care about this place at all? How can you let it fall down around your ears?”

“It isn’t falling down,” Jacob denied, his pride stung by her obvious contempt. And it couldn’t be true. He paid a realty company to check the place regularly and do cleaning. They would have notified him about damages. He explained this fact in clipped tones.

“Sure.” She tossed her head. “They probably came in twice a year and dusted. I also found about a million stupid mousetraps all over the house baited with petrified cheese. No self-respecting mouse would have gone near them.”

“But the yard. it’s in great condition.”

“No thanks to your maintenance company. It needed a lot of work, but it’s been worth it. I just love flowers, don’t you?” she said enthusiastically. “I can’t get much of a vegetable garden started in this climate, but the flowers are fantastic.”

He recalled a brief impression of numerous flower beds and boxes around the house and barn. The overall effect was charming, and Jacob had been pleased by the extra effort made by the caretakers. Now it appeared the realty company wasn’t responsible. “I think you’re exaggerating.”

“Oh no, they’re doing great. Didn’t you see my lobelia and those big, fat petunias?”

“I mean about the house!” From the twitching at the corner of her mouth, Jacob guessed she’d known what he meant. Brat. He swallowed his own flash of amusement. The last thing he needed was to start liking this woman.

“Exaggerating? Just come with me.” Alysia didn’t even check to see if he was following. She began listing the various problems plaguing the crumbling structure, her ire growing with the inventory. She couldn’t believe somebody would neglect such a beautiful old place. His family home no less!

“Did you say dry rot?” he interrupted.

She spun around and poked her finger in his chest. Despite her respectable height he still towered over her. “Yes, dry rot. It’s only affected the north side, but the flooring needs to be replaced in at least two rooms, maybe a third.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Alysia pushed him into the rear parlor and pointed to the gaping hole in the center of the ceiling. “Seeing is believing.”

“When did that happen?”

“Unfortunately, when I was standing on the floor above it,” she said with a dry note. His eyes widened and focused on the plaster cast adorning her right arm. “Exactly,” Alysia informed him. “I’m lucky I didn’t break my neck.”

“I’m really sorry,” Jacob said remorsefully. “You could have been killed. I didn’t know. I’ll pay for the damages. I mean, your doctor bills and such.”

Her eyebrows lifted. “Aren’t you worried about being sued?”

Everyone reaches a point when they’ve been pushed too hard, for too long. Jacob had been at that point for months. “Go ahead,” he snapped. They glared at each other.

If the woman wanted to sue his pants off, who cared? There were plenty of lawyers to handle that sort of thing. And thinking of lawyers, he was going to have a word with Matt Braeden about leasing his house to such an obnoxious, abrasive, irritating and graceless female. She was a disaster. The holes in her clothes revealed more skin than they covered—ragged jeans, a sweatshirt stretched and worn beyond all recognition, bare feet and a filthy face. No wonder she had fallen through the ceiling. She was such a mess she couldn’t have done anything else!

“Jacob?” a voice cut through the tension. “Where are you?”

They glared another few moments, then he straightened, taking a few deep breaths. They didn’t help. “In here, Mother.”

“Goodness.” The tall, pleasant-faced woman gazed up at the jagged hole. “How did that happen?”

“Ask Miss McKenna,” Jacob said, stomping out of the room.

As the sound of his cursing faded, Alysia looked with interest at this new person. “Hi, I’m Alysia.”

The older woman smiled, diminishing the worry clouding her eyes. “Jacob can be rude, but he doesn’t mean anything by it,” she said. “My name is Grace Kirkland.” She pointed to the hole in the ceiling. “So, what’s the story. or do I want to know?”

That made Alysia laugh, though the memory wasn’t really funny. “It happened when I fell through from the floor above. The floor sort of trembled and all at once I was flying through the air. I don’t know what hurt worse…my arm, or my pride.”

“Miss McKenna?” growled a now-familiar male voice.

“Mr. Reynolds! I didn’t hear you storm back in.”

He pulled a pen from his pocket and focused on an object in his hand. “I’m writing you a very generous check. We’ll stay in a motel while you move your belongings.” He tore the slip of paper from the book.

Without even reading the numbers he’d written, Alysia ripped the check into several small pieces. Before, she’d been annoyed with him—but not really, truly angry. Now she was livid. What nerve! Stalking forward she dropped the pieces into his breast pocket. “The answer was no, Mr. Reynolds.”

“You can’t insist on sticking to the lease.”

“I’ll stick to it, and you will, too.”

“What lease?” Grace asked calmly.

“The one your son and I both signed and had notarized,” Alysia explained with relish.

Reynolds groaned and started to sink into the nearest seat. She snatched his arm and jerked him upright. “What?”

“Don’t touch anything.”

“You mean I can’t sit down in my own house? I own every stick of furniture in the room.”

“No,” she said impatiently. “I mean, it needs to be restored. Everything in the house needs work. If you sit on that Queen Anne chair you’ll turn it into kindling.” Alysia patted the wood lovingly.

A choked laugh came from Mrs. Kirkland. “Her concern wasn’t for you, son. It was for the furniture.”

“I can see that.” He stared at Alysia as though she were an alien life-form.

Grace cleared her throat. “Do you have someplace we can sit down? Safely?” she asked.

“Sure.” Keeping a wary gaze on Jacob, Alysia led them to the kitchen. A set of oak chairs and a sturdy oak farm table rested in one corner. She motioned. “Have a seat.”

“We have a problem,” Grace said, putting her hands in her lap. “Several months ago my granddaughter chased her dog into a construction site. There was an accident and Tracy was badly injured. She’s had several operations on her back and legs and is better—physically—but emotionally she’s depressed and convinced she can’t walk. The therapist thought a change of scenery would help.”

Alysia nodded. “How awful…! Of course you and your granddaughter can stay. But the ogre leaves.”

“That does it.” Jacob slammed his chair back. “You’re unreasonable and pigheaded.”

“And you’re obnoxious and arrogant,” she insulted back.

“My daughter is waiting in the car. I promised her.”

“Good heavens. She’s out in the car? She must be worrying about what’s going on in here.” Alysia flew out the door.

Startled, mother and son stared at each other. “She’s different,” Grace observed. “Refreshing.”

Jacob ignored the note of amused approval in her voice and glanced around the kitchen. Like the parlor, it seemed brighter than he remembered, except for a mess by the sink. He went closer and crouched, checking the corroded pipes, then picked up a how-to-fix-it book lying by the toolbox. “She wasn’t lying about the plumbing, it’s a wreck,” he muttered. “Looks like she was doing her own repairs. Trying to, at least.”

“She has a lot of energy and enthusiasm,” his mother said, with a hint of calculated innocence in her expression.

He looked up. “Don’t even think about it,” he warned.

“She might be good for Tracy. Nothing else has worked.”

Jacob rose moodily. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for his child, but it was hard to imagine that a whirlwind like Alysia McKenna could be anything but trouble. Even if she did have one of the most desirable mouths he’d ever seen in his thirty-six years—especially if she did. Damnation, he needed his head examined. He did not, repeat not, find her attractive. Unfortunately, his body was rebellious to reasoning. From the moment she’d answered the door, a heavy tension had been growing in the lower region of his anatomy.

“I’ve got to get out there,” Jacob muttered. “Who knows what that woman might say. I don’t want Tracy upset.” His fears appeared groundless, however, when he found Alysia: She was sitting in the car, conversing comfortably with his daughter. Tracy looked quite intrigued with her new companion.

“Poppa, Alythia says I can stay in the tower room, but she needs to fix it up first, so we haf to stay in a motel for a few days,” she said, her faint lisp mostly noticeable when she tried to pronounce Alysia’s name.

“Sweetheart, it would be better if we went home,” he suggested gently.

Tracy’s mouth curved downward, the enthusiasm fading from her eyes. “But I don’t wanna go back. Alythia said there’s a motel in Seaside where you can hear the waves and everything. She’s awful nice. She said we can visit anytime we want.”

“Did she?” Jacob winced. The last thing he wanted to do was “visit” Miss McKenna. Yet Alysia, and her outrageous nature, might succeed in helping his daughter where therapists and doctors had failed. And since he’d already arranged his work schedule to allow an extended leave of absence, it didn’t matter where they stayed.

“She says I can sleep in a real captain’s bed and have a ship’s lantern for my light.” Tracy glanced shyly at her new friend. “Alythia knows all about ships.”

Damnation. Jacob could already guess what the next few weeks would be like—an endless stream of “Alysia saids.”

“Can we stay, Poppa? Please?” Tracy asked hopefully.

Jacob was stuck tighter than a fly in a spiderweb. He knew it. His mother who had followed him outside knew it. And, worst of all, Alysia McKenna knew it. She smiled at him, a wicked gleam of amusement in her green eyes. He sighed.