Family of Three

“Sure, pumpkin, it’s fine. But I need to talk to Miss McKenna alone to, um, make the arrangements. Grandma will stay with you.”

“Yes, Poppa.”

Alysia lightly ruffled the child’s hair and winked. Her first sight of the youngster had twisted her heart. The little girl’s face was white and solemn, and her anxious expression was older than any seven-year-old child’s should be. Alysia had instantly decided she could tolerate the devil for Tracy’s sake.

Besides, it would drive Jacob Reynolds crazy.

Jacob followed Alysia back to the kitchen, questioning his sanity every step of the way.

“So?” she asked, perching on the edge of the sink.

He tried to stay calm. Alysia McKenna had an unnerving way of annoying him. She sat there, swinging her legs like a kid—only no one could ever mistake her for a child, not with that body. And that was the worst part, she had a body that could seriously warp a man’s judgment.

“Er, you won’t have to pay your rent while we’re staying here,” he said.

Her head shook emphatically. “You can’t trick me that way. I’ll go on paying the rent and getting my receipts. You won’t be able to evict me for defaulting on the lease.”

“That isn’t what I meant,” Jacob denied, his pride stinging. He might try- legal means to get her out, but he wouldn’t be underhanded. “I’ll go to Portland tomorrow and have Matt Braeden draw up a financial agreement. His specialty is corporate law, but he’s good on any contracts.”

“I’m going, too.”

“Why? That doesn’t make sense.”

“It does to me.” She crossed her arms over her stomach, her generous mouth set mulishly. “I want to meet this Matt and explain the conditions myself.”

“God, you’re suspicious.”

“I wonder why?” Alysia asked, her tone sarcastic.

Jacob held up his hands in defeat. “All right. I’ll come by in the morning and we’ll go up together. Does that make you happy?” She muttered something he couldn’t understand, but he suspected it wasn’t nice. Sighing, he decided to pretend she’d agreed. “My next concern is the house. I’ll get a crew of men here as soon as possible. They’ll fix everything.”

“No.” Her chin raised when he started to protest. “I won’t have heavy-handed construction workers messing up this beautiful Victorian. It needs to be restored by an expert.”

“But I’m an architect. I think I’m capable of having the job done right.”

“I’m talking about a historical building. Restoration is completely different from architecture.”

Jacob rubbed his forehead wearily. “You said the plumbing and wiring is antiquated. That doesn’t sound safe. I don’t want my daughter in a place that isn’t safe.”

“You should have thought of that earlier. Didn’t it occur to you the house could be falling down, despite your wonderful caretaker? No one has lived here for over twenty years.”

A lot of things hadn’t occurred to Jacob, including the possibility of having a strange, tawny-haired young woman camped in his grandparents’ home. “Let’s argue about it later. Tell me, what makes you such an expert?” he asked.

“Oh, that.” She shrugged. “I have a bachelor’s degree in archaeology, and a master’s in history. I also did an internship with the Smithsonian,” she offered. “And I worked for a museum in Philadelphia for a few years.”

He could hardly believe it. Jacob could have sworn she wasn’t more than twenty years old. Master’s degree? Smithsonian internship? What was she doing on the Oregon coast running an antique store? She had to be nuts. “Will you at least agree to plumbers and electricians?”

“Only if I get to pick them. If you don’t mind, that is,” she said without a pause. “They aren’t expensive and they know what they’re doing.”

“They must be paragons if you recommend them,” he murmured. “Being such an expert yourself.”

Alysia just laughed at the mocking barb. She was still rather annoyed with Reynolds—but she could see his exhaustion and knew his daughter’s accident must have affected him deeply. He seemed devoted to the child. Had worry caused the faint frosting of silver at his temples?

A man who loved his child so much couldn’t be all bad. For a moment she was tempted to forget her claim on the house. She wanted to stroke his face and soothe the tired lines. Alysia grinned wryly, imagining his expression if she tried. Jacob Reynolds wasn’t the type to be soothed. He was a four-square American male, the kind who wanted their women helpless and clinging. Could a man like that ever change? It was an interesting thought. Challenging. She liked challenges.

“I’ll tell you what,” she said in a friendlier tone than before. “You can hire a crew to repair the dry rot on the north side, and they can finish repairing the roof.”

“Finish?” he echoed.

“Yeah. I did some of the repairs before I broke my arm.”

“You were up on the roof? That’s dangerous.” Jacob jumped to his feet and stomped around the large kitchen. “I won’t have it,” he said without thinking.

Sticking her feet out, Alysia contemplated her toes. She wiggled them experimentally. “That’s an atavistic male response,” she informed him. He wheeled and glared at her. “And useless, since you don’t have the right to order me around.”

“I’m not ordering you around,” Jacob said stiffly, knowing he’d blundered. But damn it, he didn’t want her on the roof! Wasn’t one broken arm on his conscience enough? Just then she tried to scratch under the edge of her cast, making him feel an added stab of guilt. “This is still my house. I don’t want you risking your neck on my property.”

“The roof needed to be repaired,” she declared. “What should I have done. waited for an act of God?”

“I didn’t know about it.”

“Your lawyer did.”

He opened his mouth, then promptly closed it. Matt had been trying to contact him but he’d ignored the messages. “I’m sorry. My life has been a little hectic.”

“That’s okay.” Alysia could afford to be generous. The house would be restored her way—with care and love—and it would stop draining every penny of her reserves.

“Why did you choose my house?” Jacob asked, defeated. “For that matter, what made you choose the Oregon coast?”

“I liked it.”

“Is that all? You must have checked into the market potential here…the business prospects for antique sales.”

She shook her head. The decision to quit her job and move to the Northwest had been spontaneous. Alysia had been poking around Astoria when she’d run across the deserted house and barn. She’d been enchanted and outraged at their condition. Local legends said the place was haunted, particularly the nearby ocean bluff. But legends didn’t scare Alysia, neither did hard work.

“But you must have checked. You signed an extended lease, for heaven’s sake,” Jacob exclaimed, offended that anyone, even a scatterbrained brat, would be so reckless. “Don’t you know anything about business? It usually takes years to start making a profit. And out here…you’re not even in town. You can’t survive in the country.”

She chuckled. “I’m already doing quite well. Although, my profits have been eaten up trying to repair the house.” Her eyes darkened to a mischievous jade green. “But I’m sure it will get better now that you’re here—the big strong man, capable of handling things for a helpless woman.”

“That isn’t funny.”

“Sorry.” Alysia grinned, unrepentant. In a funny sort of way he looked just like a grumpy little boy. His dark hair was mussed from his fingers and he had absentmindedly tugged the confining tie from his neck. It was kind of endearing.

She hadn’t told him the whole truth; she hadn’t felt it necessary. Actually, Alysia was quite capable of managing a successful business. In addition to her position at the museum, she’d been doing antique restoration for years, along with a kind of “finders” service for the filthy rich. If someone wanted a particular antique—say a Louis XV bombe chest—then she found it. Her clients were the sort of people who didn’t care how much a thing cost as long as they got it.

“What made you decide on my house?”

“The Captain.” Alysia pointed to the corner of the

kitchen, where a wicker basket rested next to the cast-iron wood stove. A pair of sleepy eyes peered over the rim of the basket.

“Good God, it’s a cat.”

“Perceptive of you. Don’t you like cats?”

“I can’t stand them.”

“Oh.” She nodded in understanding. No wonder they clashed. Cat people and noncat people were mixtures that simply didn’t work. “I’ll bet you like dogs.”

“That sounds like a criticism.”

“I like dogs well enough.” Alysia jumped down from the counter and crossed to the basket. The Captain deigned to let her scratch behind his ears. A purr rumbled from his broad chest. “But dogs are slaves. Cats are citizens.”

“That’s absurd. Felines are unpredictable, stubborn and egotistical. Dogs are much nicer.”

The Captain rose and stretched, then jumped out of his nest. He weaved around Alysia’s legs. “I like their independence,” she said calmly, wiggling her toes in the animal’s long fur.

“What did that rotten animal have to do with your picking this house?” Jacob asked, stepping closer.

Alysia bit her lip, distracted by her unusual response to Jacob’s presence. Her skin tingled and her pulse was definitely faster than normal. Goodness, she’d been living like a hermit too long. Sure, the man had a body that appeared scrumptiously proportioned under his formal attire, but she’d never been the weak-kneed type of female.

“Well?” he prompted.

She glanced up. “Um, I was looking around the property when I heard this howling in the barn. Somehow he’d gotten trapped and was making a fuss. Anyway, no one claimed him. He acted so much in charge that I called him ‘The Captain.’ When I learned a sea captain built the house, it seemed to be fate. I made a few calls and wound up leasing the place.”

Jacob glared at the feline. The Captain opened his mouth and yawned, revealing an impressive set of teeth. “I—”

“Son? What’s taking so long?” Mrs. Kirkland appeared at the door of the kitchen. She smiled at the younger woman.

“I’m coming in a minute. Is—” he hesitated “—is Tracy upset?”

“No, not at all. I haven’t seen her this animated since before the accident. Apparently Alysia mentioned the Reynolds ghost. Your daughter is quite intrigued.”

He rounded on the talkative culprit. “How dare you? You might have scared her silly!”

“Nonsense,” Mrs. Kirkland interjected. “Children love stories about haunted mansions. You always did. Remember? You used to beg me to tell you about Alice’s spirit, forever doomed to walk the sea cliffs. You found it quite fascinating.”

Alysia raised her eyebrows. “Ghosts and ghoulies? Why, Mr. Reynolds, I would never have guessed.” The man looked thoroughly annoyed that his childhood foible had been revealed.

“Forget it.” Jacob turned to his mother. “I’ll be just a little longer.”

“All right, but try not to be too long.”

Jacob glanced back at Alysia, leaning nonchalantly against the wall. In the low evening light the smudges on her face were invisible, but the supple curves beneath the disreputable sweatshirt were still evident. He hadn’t missed her reaction when he’d stepped close to her—it was the only time in the entire conversation when she hadn’t been in complete control. Intriguing. Of course, she wasn’t his type. Too brash, too unfeminine, too tomboyish, too everything.

But intriguing nonetheless.

“Tell me, Miss McKenna,” he said softly. “How much do you charge for services rendered? On restoration. of course.”

Alysia’s eyes widened. He might be referring to business, but somehow the air had gone from crackling with animosity to being supercharged with sexual innuendo. She thrust her thumbs in the belt loops of her jeans, not wanting to be betrayed into covering her breasts. It was bad enough that her nipples had hardened into revealing awareness, but she didn’t want to act as if it mattered.

“It depends,” she drawled. “On the individual customer and the work needed.”

“Really? Give me an example. How much do you charge for restoring, say, Queen Anne chairs?” He leaned forward, a slight smile playing on his mouth and looking uncannily like hisseafaring great-grandfather.

Alysia’s pulse jumped. The man beneath the stuffed suit had potential, and he was lethally attractive when he wasn’t frowning. “Er, it depends on the condition of the chair, and who’s asking for restoration.”

“You charge different amounts for different customers?”

“Why don’t you just ask me what you want to know,” Alysia snapped. She didn’t like subtle games of ambush and snide innuendo, and she suspected Jacob Reynolds was trying to scare her off. Buying her off hadn’t worked, nor had threats of legal maneuvering. Maybe he thought she would turn tail if he made a sexual pass. Fat chance.

“I was wondering about the house. How much would you charge for the restoration? Provided I’m willing to pay.”

His tone sounded more normal, but she remained suspicious. “I’ll give you a bargain. Ten thousand. And you pay for the materials, plumbers, electricians and carpenters.”

“That’s ridiculous. I thought you said you were a businesswoman,” he said, disgusted. “Restoration on this scale could cost fifty thousand, maybe more.”

Alysia breathed a sigh of satisfaction. Reynolds had returned to his normal persona—self-righteous, insulting and snooty. “How I run my business is none of your concern.”

Her tawny hair was a golden halo in the fading light and Jacob stepped forward, gaze fixed on her cat green eyes. She was just like a feline. Unpredictable, unreasonable, all silken fur and steel claws. He didn’t like cats and he didn’t like Alysia McKenna. He especially didn’t like the way he felt when he was near her—turned on and inclined to abandon control.

“You’re a disaster,” he said deliberately. “I don’t like earthy women with dirty faces and bare feet. Your hair is a mess,” Jacob touched the shimmering mane. It felt clean and soft. He tugged his finger through a snarl and caught a faint whiff of fresh mint. “You’re pushy and in my way.” His thumb stroked the line of her jaw, then drifted around her ear.

“You’re not my type, either.”

He swallowed. He’d only intended to startle her with his suggestive approach, but the throaty, hoarse sound of her voice did something to his gut. He flattened his palms on the wall on either side of her shoulders.

“I don’t think…type is the issue,” he whispered.

“You never know. But I guess it doesn’t matter, since we’re stuck with each other.” Her faint smile challenged him.

Jacob leaned closer and caught her mouth. He was right, she had a delicious mouth, pure fire. He fought an insistent urge to lift her against the wall and fill her body with his own. It wasn’t like him, but neither was the ill-tempered maniac who had yelled and tried to pay her off.

There was something about Alysia McKenna that knocked him off balance. Her clear gaze seemed to look straight into his soul, which was absurd; he couldn’t trust a woman like that.

He pushed a few inches away and looked into her changeable eyes. No longer catlike, they were the dusky green of a stormy sea. Angry? Aroused? He couldn’t tell. Quick, shallow breaths lifted her breasts and the worn fabric did nothing to conceal their thrusting, unfettered shape.

“Was that supposed to prove something?” she asked.

“Chalk it up to letting off steam, clearing the air.” Jacob glanced down her body again. He had the overwhelming feeling she would be sensational in his bed, but dynamite in his life—dynamite as in exploding, disastrous, upsetting and utterly a problem.

Alysia cleared her throat. His hands were still planted on the wall beside her shoulders. “Are you done?” she asked.

He smiled lazily. “When I’m done you’ll know it.”

“Is that a reference to your sexual prowess? Or were you referring to the matter of my lease?”

“You’re direct.”

“I try to be.” Alysia slid her hand around Jacob Reynolds’s neck and drew his face down. She could play this game, too. Her kiss was brief but expertly placed. “There,” she breathed against his mouth, her tongue flicking his lower lip. “Now the air is clear.”

“Is that the only reason you kissed me?”

“Sure,” she said smoothly. “We’ll soon be living together. Even people who dislike each other can wonder what it would be like to kiss that other person. Any possible curiosity is now satisfied. You’ve taken a turn and I’ve taken a turn. Nothing happened. End of problem.”

Her eyes were back to that catlike glow, and Jacob knew it wasn’t so simple. Something had definitely happened. “Then I’d better leave while the count is even.”

In the hall, Jacob shook his head in an attempt to clear the sensual fog surrounding him. Deep in thought, he failed to notice the feline conveniently situated on the staircase. A lightning paw reached through the railing and swiped down his shoulder, missing his ear by a fraction of an inch.

Jacob whirled and snarled wordlessly. The Captain spat back. The battle lines had been clearly drawn.

“This is my house.”

The Captain spat again.

“You’re as unreasonable as your owner.” But nowhere near as tantalizing.

The staccato raps of the cat’s tail against the staircase echoed in the quiet house.

“I hope you break that tail.”

He heard Tracy from the car. Incredibly, she was laughing. It had been a long time since he’d heard her laugh. “Lay a paw on my daughter and you’re cat soup,” he warned.

Whiskers twitched.

“Damn,” Jacob muttered. “Threatening a cat. I’m losing my mind.”

Chapter Two

The sun was just peeking above the horizon when Alysia opened her eyes. She yawned, then groaned. For a glorious moment she’d forgotten about her soon-to-be-resident problem, Jacob Reynolds.

Resident. As in living together. Naw…she dismissed that description. It sounded too much like…well…living together. He’d upset her life already, and certainly her sleep. Twice she’d awakened during the night. Each time because of an erotic dream involving horizontal calisthenics with the man.

“Maybe I’m attracted to Jacob because he looks like Captain James,” she speculated out loud, then dismissed the thought.

The unpleasant truth was she found Jacob Reynolds dangerously attractive and didn’t know how to handle it. If his kiss was anything to judge by, a man of infinite passion existed beneath his starched appearance, a man who could rival the sexy Captain James Reynolds in every way.

Swiping a lock of hair from her eyes, Alysia sighed. She could forget her X-rated dreams and Jacob. But making friends with his mother and daughter would be nice. In the few minutes Alysia had spent with Tracy she’d discovered the child was bright, imaginative and hiding some kind of troubling secret. Tracy hadn’t mentioned a secret, but something in her expression gave her away.

And that brought her back to Jacob Reynolds. Squarejawed, self-possessed, a man in charge of his world.

Cool air brushed Alysia’s skin and she tucked the quilt around her shoulders. Before moving to Oregon she’d always slept in the nude, but the cool coastal weather and draftiness of the old house had persuaded her otherwise. Her concession was minor, she now used satin nightshirts. She loved satin. It reminded her of stroking polished wood, cool to the touch, then warming like a part of your hand. Sensuous.

Like Jacob and the way he kissed.

“Damnation, stop thinking about the man,” she scolded herself. She wasn’t thrilled about this change in her plans, but she’d adjust. Most of her life had been spent adjusting.

On the surface Jacob was stuffy and overbearing, but Alysia knew a lot about deceptive appearances. She also knew a lot about secrets. Growing up in official Washington, D.C., had contributed untold depths to her education. The nation’s capital was a great place to learn about all kinds of things.

The Captain swept onto the bed and she stroked his thick pelt. “Hi, boy,” she murmured. A thrumming, contented purr filled the air, his teeth clicking as he rubbed his jaw along the hard plaster cast on her broken arm.

“You weren’t very nice to him,” she said.

He yawned.

“Were you jealous?” The possibility had occurred to Alysia. She’d responded to Jacob Reynolds in a very female and fundamental fashion. The Captain had sensed her response and didn’t like it. Pure, undisguised jealousy.

“Mrreow.”

“Just like a man.”

The cat shimmied between the bedsheets and Alysia’s body and she shifted accordingly. But when he flexed his paws in the manner of a contented feline, she immediately scooted from the four-poster bed. He stuck his rumpled head out and complained.

“Forget it,” she said, yanking clothes from the dresser. “Claws and satin don’t mix.”

A shower finished clearing her mind, but it wasn’t until she reached for a towel that Alysia remembered the trip to Portland. “Drat,” she muttered. It was bad enough to have Jacob moving into her house, now she had to be confined in a car with him.

An hour later she waited on the veranda, the keys to her truck in hand. When Jacob pulled into the driveway and got out she waved stiffly. He was wearing another expensive suit—blue this time. And though it was stuffy and formal, she couldn’t help noticing it fit him to elegant perfection.

He nodded, then walked to the passenger door and opened it. “Get in. Please,” he added when she hesitated.

“Uh, I thought we’d go in my pickup.” Alysia motioned to the battered vehicle at the side of the house.

Jacob blinked, then stared incredulously. Go in that? The truck was held together by nothing but rust and some baling wire. “That thing wouldn’t last twenty miles.”

“The pickup is very dependable.” Alysia planted her hands on her hips. It was then he noticed her jeans were just as tight as the ones she’d worn the previous day. For a crazy moment he imagined sliding them down her long legs, inch by silky inch.

“Uh, besides,” he said huskily, “you aren’t safe driving with a cast on your arm.”

“I do fine with this cast, and whose fault is it, anyway?”

He couldn’t argue, but on the other hand, he wasn’t getting into the ancient truck—with or without Alysia McKenna behind the wheel. “The Mercedes is more comfortable and it’s faster,” he said. “I thought you’d want to get this trip over with as quickly as possible. I mean, you have a business to run, right?”

“Why should you care? You want me to fail.”

All at once, Jacob wasn’t sure he wanted Alysia to fail, even if success meant she’d stick out her three-year lease. “I don’t want you to lose your business,” he said carefully. “I just want you to succeed somewhere else.”

“I guess the Reynolds family is too aristocratic for a common business venture on their land,” Alysia said evenly.

He glared. “This isn’t accomplishing anything. If we have to fight, let’s do it in the car.”

Alysia pursed her lips. “Maybe we should go in separate vehicles. I might find an estate sale in Portland. Then the day wouldn’t be such a waste,” she said, sounding innocent.

On any other occasion Jacob would have agreed. Alysia was the last woman he wanted to spend time with—she had an unsettling impact on his senses. Yet he truly believed it wasn’t safe for her to drive such a decrepit pickup, especially with a broken arm. “I’ll take you to any sale you want to go to,” he said through gritted teeth. “So get into the car and stop being so stubborn.”

For a moment Jacob thought Alysia would hit him, then her face softened and a mischievous grin curved her lips. Without further argument she climbed into the Mercedes.