Family of Three

Immediately Jacob felt a sense of impending doom.

“Okay,” she said cheerfully. “Let’s go.”

When they reached their destination Alysia got out and stretched. She had dressed carefully for the occasion—extremely faded jeans, a faded flannel shirt and old sneakers. There weren’t any major holes in the fabric, and the clothes were clean, but she knew they irritated her companion. His expression had been grim every time he looked her direction, though they’d managed to have a lively and interesting conversation during the two-hour drive.

Inside the lobby of the office building Alysia’s eyes widened. The law firm was not only big, it screamed old money and conservative values. Fine artwork decorated the walls. And they actually had an elevator operator. An operator. Someone paid to take people up and down so they wouldn’t damage their fingers hitting the buttons themselves.

They whooshed up to the fifth floor and she followed Jacob to a corner office, guarded by several secretaries. “Jacob Reynolds and Alysia McKenna, here to see Mr. Braeden,” he said to the woman at the first desk. “I called last night and made a personal appointment.”

The secretary’s professional smile turned brilliant. “Of course. Mr. Braeden is expecting you. Go right in.”

Alysia felt the full weight of the woman’s stare as they passed by.

“Jacob!” A tall, ruggedly handsome man jumped up from behind his desk and hurried across the room.

As the two friends shook hands Alysia saw a warm, relaxed smile on Jacob’s face. It was nice, very nice, and it made a shivery sensation sink to her stomach.

Matt Braeden held out his hand. “This must be Alysia. We’ve talked so much, I feel as though we know each other.”

Prepared to despise the lawyer on sight, Alysia was surprised to find herself responding to his engaging grin and the lack of censure in his brown eyes. “We’ve talked,” she agreed. “Mostly about my lease.”

“Mmm, yes. Please, sit down. I hope you won’t lose much business by taking the day off.”

As she sank into a chair Alysia thought it was amazing how different the two men were, at least in personality. “I don’t have a lot of customers on Mondays,” she said. “Besides, Jacob promised to take me to some estate sales. He’s so thoughtful.” She deliberately used Jacob’s first name, knowing he’d never invited her to do so. His swift, hard glance told her he’d caught the implication that they were better acquainted and more amicable than was truly the case.

Apparently catching the subtle nuance between them, Matt Braeden’s mouth twitched for several moments be fore he spoke. “I’m, uh, I’m glad you’re getting on so well.”

“Oh, yes. He’s awfully concerned about my arm.” Alysia lifted the cast and waved it. “Since I broke it at the house.”

“I know—that rotten floor. Has it hindered your work?”

“No, not really.” Alysia’s gaze strayed to Jacob. His eyes were fixed on the window, his body tense. “Except I had trouble repairing a plumbing problem.”

“Everything is going to be fixed,” Jacob snapped, turning his head. “I told you that.” He looked at Matt. “She has this ridiculous obsession about historical accuracy.”

“That’s great,” Matt said. “Alysia has an outstanding reputation in her field. I checked everything before you signed the lease—you’d be smart to listen to her.”

Jacob’s scowl accused his friend of treachery. “Maybe I don’t care about historical accuracy. That house has never been happy. Sometimes I think it’s cursed.”

Startled, Alysia’s jaw dropped. Though she’d heard joking rumors of a curse, she never expected to hear such a fantastic statement from Jacob Reynolds. And it wasn’t true. The Victorian was beautiful—lonely and neglected-but not cursed. Yet she couldn’t deny the bitterness in his voice, or the reality that he’d avoided his grandparents’ home since their deaths.

Houses did reflect the lives of the people who lived there—sorrows and joys, love and betrayal. That Jacob would sense a brooding atmosphere in the Victorian disturbed her. Still, what really disturbed her was the urge to hold him close and tell him it was all right. It didn’t make sense. Jacob was the last person she should feel sympathy for—or desire.

Oh God, Alysia moaned silently. She had to get control of herself. Matt Braeden was more her type—why wasn’t she thinking about him in that way?

Because you’re an idiot, with a talent for wanting the wrong man. She was sex starved, that was the answer. Kissing Jacob had been a big mistake, reminding her body it needed more than sleep, food and hard work. Unfortunately, sex implied commitment to Alysia. She couldn’t have a casual affair.

“Jacob,” she said quietly, still trying to control her thoughts. “It’s just a house.”

“I don’t want to talk about it. Let’s stick to business,” he snapped. “Matt, were you able to get a contract written?”

“Er, yes, I have it in draft form. I believe Alysia had some concerns…?”

Though distracted, Alysia smiled at the lawyer. “It’s very simple,” she said. “I won’t sign any contract affecting my tenant rights. If Jacob wants to suspend payment while he’s staying in the house, fine, but the lease stays.”

Jacob muttered something unintelligible.

Matt winked. “You’re completely protected.”

“For heaven’s sake, Matt told me you tried to break the lease before,” Jacob burst out. “Why do you want to stay now?”

“Of course I wanted to break the lease. You wouldn’t take care of the repairs or anything. But now that I have your attention.” she said with a smile, “I’ve changed my mind.”

“Just like a woman.” He snorted.

Alysia couldn’t decide if he hated all women, or just her. “I’m sorry you don’t like the situation,” she said. “But it isn’t my fault you signed the lease without reading it.”

“Damn it, I told you I was upset. My daughter—”

“Hey, stop it. Both of you,” Matt ordered. His lips twitched again and a moment later he burst into laughter. Jacob glared, which just made him roar louder.

“It isn’t funny, Matt,” he growled. “That’s my house, and you rented to a…a…”

“Woman?” Alysia supplied helpfully. “Let’s see, I think you said I was a disaster. A pushy woman with a dirty face and bare feet. You also mentioned my hair was a mess.”

Jacob shifted in embarrassment and glanced at his friend. “I, er, may have been a little tactless. Sorry.”

She shrugged. “You were partly right—I don’t like shoes and my face was dirty. As for my clothing—would you work under a sink in a cashmere suit?”

The subtle jibe made him flinch. Alysia was right. He’d made assumptions based on her appearance. It was neither fair nor rational. He supposed she had reason to resent him, as much as he resented her…probably more. Yet she’d been soft hearted enough to agree to them moving into the house.

“I think the contract will be acceptable,” Matt said. He went to the door, telling his secretary to print the final draft.

Alysia took her copy and read it front to back with an attention to detail that surprised Jacob. “It looks okay,” she said finally. “I’m ready to sign…in front of a notary public,” she added quickly.

Jacob stared at the printed page. He didn’t have a choice, he had to sign. Tracy was facing a long and difficult recovery and she wanted to live in the old mansion. More than that, she wanted to make friends with Alysia. He couldn’t remember the last time his daughter had taken so strongly to someone.

The sound of Matt deliberately clearing his throat brought Jacob’s head up. Humor still warmed his friend’s expression, but it also held a challenge. Alysia and the lawyer had never met before today, yet he knew Matt had formed a positive opinion of her. He’d told Jacob he approved of her determination to build and run a successful business. He also thought his friend was being irrational about the property.

There wasn’t any point in stalling. “Let’s get this over with.” Jacob sighed. “Where’s your notary public?”

Alysia held the classified section of the newspaper in front of her face, searching for listings of estate sales. It was rude, but no ruder than Jacob dragging her to a fancy, upscale restaurant without asking her preference. Every time she started to soften toward him, he did something to annoy her…which was a good thing. In Matt Braeden’s office she’d glimpsed another side to Jacob, a dark, hurting side. And it was tied to the house. Her house.

By the time their main course was delivered she had to ask. “Jacob, why do you think your grandparents’ home is cursed?”

Resigned, Jacob sat back in his chair and gave her a hard stare. She just looked back, her green eyes darkened by some undefined emotion. “No one has ever been happy in that house. Ever. If a place could be cursed, it would be there. I guess that’s what I meant. But I don’t believe in curses, or ghosts, or anything supernatural.”

“You’re very pragmatic,” she said. “From what I’ve heard, a lot of people believe in the curse and your ghost.”

“She isn’t my ghost. For God’s sake, we’re talking about rumor and superstition. I don’t want to discuss it.” But Alysia did—he could see it in her face.

Damn, he thought, she really was like a cat, curious and unpredictable. And she had their sensuality—stretching, gliding, licking the herb sauce from her lips. Jacob could almost feel her tongue, the rough velvet texture of it, tasting him. He shifted, trying to quell his swift, involuntary reaction. Even his wife had never affected him so much with a look or a gesture, and now he was lusting after an unkempt tomboy.

“Your grandparents weren’t happy?” she asked after a moment.

“My—” Jacob paused, trying to think of a way to describe the taciturn Marcus Reynolds. “My grandfather wasn’t an easy man to live with. He was stern, very quiet and kept to himself.”

She traced the pattern on the linen tablecloth with her finger. “I thought the house was built out of love,” she said, sounding oddly wistful.

Taking a deep breath, he tried to remember that Alysia knew little of the tragic affairs of his family. Her curiosity was natural under the circumstances. “Love doesn’t always mean happiness.”

No longer hungry, Jacob pushed his plate away. He recalled his father’s and grandfather’s lectures about not allowing the heart to rule the head and never letting a woman have control. He’d never completely understood their warnings until he met Alysia McKenna. She awakened something deep and powerful inside of him, something that clamored for attention. Something dangerous.

“When I first moved in,” Alysia said hesitantly. “I had nightmares. It must have been the stress…you know, from making such a big change in my life.”

Jacob leaned forward. For the first time since they’d met she looked vulnerable and he felt an irrational surge of protectiveness. Alysia McKenna didn’t seem the type to suffer from nightmares. “Tell me.”

She shivered. “I…I would wake up with images of a dark and damp place. There’d be a horrible pain in my chest. And I felt…terrified,” she said finally. “Anxious, like there was something I had to do—or tell someone—that was more important than anything else in the world. But I’m not afraid of the house, I feel it welcomed me. Silly, right? I know you don’t approve.”

“I doubt if you care,” he murmured.

Regret flitted across Alysia’s face, but she shrugged. “I don’t live by other people’s opinions, if that’s what you mean. Especially ones who don’t care about me.”

Don’t care? There was a hollow, brittle sound to the words. Jacob frowned, wondering what kind of life she’d led, to settle so far away from family. The protectiveness he hadn’t been able to control before came stronger now. Which was absurd. Alysia McKenna needed protection the way a drowning man needed a cup of water.

“Anyway,” she continued, “life’s too short for conformity. I’d be miserable doing what was expected of me.”

“And what was expected?”

Leaning back, Alysia gave him a determined smile. “It doesn’t matter. I know what I want. and where I belong.”

“Yeah, my house.”

“I’m glad you agree.”

“I don’t agree,” Jacob exploded before he caught the gleam in her eyes. Hell, she knew exactly which of his buttons to push. And she enjoyed pushing them. “Tell me, when did you start rebelling, or have you always been this way?”

Alysia raised her eyebrows. “About the same time everyone does—when I was a teenager. You’ll find out with Tracy.”

He stared, appalled by the idea that Tracy might rebel, might become like the wild teens he’d heard about and sooner or later he’d have to face it all.

“Hey, take it easy, Jacob,” Alysia murmured sympathetically. “You’ll handle it. Besides, a little rebellion is healthy.”

Jacob wanted to be reassured, but his confidence had been shaken. A father was supposed to protect his children, yet Tracy had nearly died in an accident. What kind of man let such a thing happen? He was responsible for his daughter’s safety—he should have prevented it. The thought nagged at Jacob, keeping him silent as he paid for their lunch, then drove Alysia to the estate sale she wanted to visit.

He’d barely brought the Mercedes to a halt before she threw off her seat belt and jumped out of the car. Jacob shook his head. How could someone get so excited about old junk? Sighing, he locked the car and hurried after her. The sight of her tight, denim-clad bottom was screwing familiar knots in his gut…familiar since meeting Alysia, that is.

“Hold up,” he called.

“Come on,” she said, fairly glowing with excitement. “I’ve got a feeling about this place.”

Her “feeling” turned out to be several sets of extremely greasy pottery bakeware and four iron Dutch ovens—not really antiques, she explained, but popular with collectors—and a large, dusty sea chest with rusty fittings. When she looked at him, smiled and innocently asked if the chest would fit on the back seat of the Mercedes, Jacob knew he’d been right about impending doom. This was Alysia’s way of getting back at him. His leather seats would never be the same.

“You’re not planning to go to another sale, I hope,” he said, sliding into the car.

She appeared to consider the matter. “I guess not.”

Jacob grunted and stuck his key in the ignition. Turning it, there was a curious whining noise, then a ticking sound. He held his breath and tried the key again. This time nothing happened.

“Problem with the engine?” Alysia asked, her voice choked.

“You might as well say it,” he growled, sneaking a look at her mouth. She was having a terrible time keeping the laughter inside and he could see it bubbling in her irreverent soul.

“S-say what?”

“Say we should have taken your truck.”

“Uh, no…I think the Mercedes is very nice. Not terribly reliable, but it beats my pickup in the comfort department.”

Almost, but not quite, an “I told you so.” All of a sudden Jacob wasn’t angry or even embarrassed. He had to admit it was funny, really funny. Turning, he looked at Alysia squarely. He didn’t trust her, but he wanted her. Badly. And he felt intensely alive whenever she smiled or teased him—or even when she made him angry.

A moment later his amusement faded as he contemplated her expression. Alysia McKenna was dangerous. He didn’t understand why he wanted her so much; she had none of the qualities he normally found attractive—she was too damned independent and unpredictable.

“I’ll call a tow truck,” he said. “Stay here.”

Alysia’s jaw dropped. For a moment Jacob had looked human, ready to smile, even relaxed, then in the space of a breath he’d switched back to cold and arrogant.

“Fine,” she muttered. She poked at the worn fabric over her knee. The spot was wearing through. Slipping her finger between the threads Alysia yanked, and within a few moments both her knees were uncovered. She was immediately sorry. The action was nothing more than mutiny against her own emotions. One half of her still thought Jacob was obnoxious, the other half responded to the deep wounds he seemed to carry inside.

Problem was, which half would win?

Chapter Three

“You have an electrical problem,” the service manager of the Mercedes dealership explained. “We should have it fixed by morning.”

Alysia grinned when Jacob frowned. He wasn’t the kind of man who dealt well with delays or changes to his plans. She, of course, was a big change in his plans.

“Bill, I’ll need a loaner,” he said in a tight voice. “I have to drive Miss McKenna back to Astoria, but I’ll return tomorrow.”

“That’s crazy,” Alysia protested. “We can just stay in Portland and go back together.” The manager cast her a grateful glance, probably because they didn’t want her filthy purchases in one of their cars.

“Fine, just great,” Jacob growled. “But we still need a loaner. And I’ll need to make a call.”

“Of course,” Bill said patiently. “We have a car waiting. And you can use the phone in my office.”

Alysia smiled at the man when they were left alone. “It isn’t your fault,” she said, apologizing for Jacob’s impatience.

He smiled back. “I understand. He’s been under a lot of pressure.”

She looked at him with new interest. “Are you two friends?”

“Since we were kids. Now we play on a charity softball team together.”

Alysia blinked. Softball? He was more a charity dinner and elegant auction type of guy. Softball meant grass stains and dust. It meant sliding into home and occasionally losing dignity. Not exactly Jacob’s style, but maybe he liked the competition.

“Is he any good?”

“One of our best players,” Bill claimed. “He’s the reliable one, always making arrangements and seeing we show for the games. Well, except for the past few months. Tracy’s accident messed him up pretty bad.”

Alysia nodded. She had a good idea of how “messed up” Jacob had been over the accident. For all his faults, he helplessly adored his daughter. Leaning against one of the showroom models, a sleek sports car, she tapped her foot against the tire. “What was he like as a kid?” she asked casually.

“A lot like now. Serious, determined to succeed. He—”

“Spilling my life story?” Jacob asked as he walked up to them, one eyebrow raised.

“Sorry, pal,” Bill said, not looking the least bit sorry. “You’ve got a pretty lady here—a good listener, too. It’s about time you hooked up with someone.”

Before Jacob could protest Alysia smiled and slipped her arm under his. She felt rigid resistance in his body and pressed closer. “That’s sweet, Bill.”

Jacob hauled Alysia outside. “Why did you do that?” he demanded when they were alone. “He thinks we’re involved.”

“Come on, don’t be so serious. You can explain tomorrow if it’s so important.” Alysia climbed into the car, shaking her head. “He’ll make up his own mind, anyway, people always do.”

He made a disgusted sound. “I made reservations for you at a downtown hotel,” he said as they pulled out onto the road.

She lifted her chin. “I can make my own arrangements.”

The tension in Jacob’s face eased and he smiled. “Really? You’re dependent on me for transportation.”

“Ever hear of taxis and buses?” she flashed back.

Jacob stopped at a light and looked at Alysia. She seemed annoyed, energy radiating from her like a bright fire. “Or you could stay at my house,” he offered, surprising even himself with the suggestion. “Unless you think it’s improper…or feel uncomfortable about it.”

Her eyes widened. “Improper? That’s a Victorian attitude. I know…you’re worried I’ll loose my head and have my way with you.”

He fought a groan. The faint twinkle in her eyes told him she was teasing, but it didn’t erase the sensual images her suggestion had conjured. “Alysia,” he murmured huskily. “Has anyone told you you’re a royal pain?”

“Frequently,” she said, grinning.

Jacob shook his head. It was amazing how quickly she got upset, then cooled off. She could have handed him an eviction notice before they ever moved into the house. And he wasn’t sure he’d have been so generous in Alysia’s shoes, considering the provocation.

“All right,” he said. “We’ve got extra stuff there, like toothbrushes and toothpaste. You can, uh, have something of mine to sleep in.”

“Sounds comfy.”

Jacob was anything but comfortable. Even his seated position wouldn’t hide the hard arousal she’d raised in his groin—for the second time in as many hours.

Alysia didn’t know what she expected of Jacob’s home. If she had expected anything, though, it wouldn’t have been a colonial-style house on a large wooded lot. Comfortable, solidly made furniture filled the living room, with few feminine touches. It made her wonder about Tracy’s mother.

“There isn’t any fresh food,” Jacob announced, tossing his suit coat over the back of a chair.

“I’ll check the kitchen. Maybe there’s something I can whip up.” Alysia wandered to the back of the house, looking into each room curiously. She found eggs in the refrigerator and a can of green chilies in the cupboard. It was a beginning. “How do feel about omelettes?” she called.

Jacob followed Alysia’s voice. She was poking into the cupboards and drawers like she owned the place. She kept shaking her head and muttering about people who didn’t have plants or homey things in their sterile kitchens. Finally she plopped a pan down on the black marble countertop and frowned.

“Is this a real kitchen, or just a showroom model?”

He knew she was trying to start another argument, but it didn’t stop him from saying, overemphatically, that it was real.

“Could have fooled me. There’s still a manufacturer’s label on this omelette pan.”

“There’s no such thing.” Jacob tried to snatch the pan, but she grabbed it and danced out of the way. “Alysia, get back here. There’s no label on that pan.”

“Yes, there is,” she said as she darted away, with Jacob in hot pursuit.

Lunging, Jacob caught her by the breakfast nook and trapped her against the table. He lifted her hand and examined the cookware minutely. “See?”

When she laughed he felt the shimmering vibration clear to his feet. “I guess I was wrong,” she whispered.

Oh, God. He stared into her upturned face. She was compelling, undisciplined, beautiful. Too unpredictable by far. One minute happy with her life, the next moving across country. How long would it be before she changed again? Before she discovered that Oregon didn’t answer her dreams, and flew off to find something else?

One night couldn’t hurt, his body coaxed.

One night? Jacob doubted any man could leave Alysia alone after just one night. She was seductive—the way only danger can be seductive.

His finger traced her cheek. “Your face is dirty,” he murmured. Leaning down, Jacob flicked the spot with his tongue, then smiled when Alysia drew a gratifyingly shaky breath. His lips followed the curve of her jaw, caressing the softness of her skin. Her unique scent was a memory burned into his senses.

Jacob knew his weakness would torment him later. Alysia was volatile and stubborn. He could never understand her. All the wanting in the world couldn’t change their differences. Yet she was so soft, so tantalizing. He wanted to trust her. He wanted to believe the honesty in her eyes. When he touched her, the danger didn’t seem to matter.

Jacob tangled his fingers in her hair. Vaguely he heard the pan hit the floor, followed by the pressure of Alysia’s unencumbered hand on his back as she arched into his embrace. Slowly, he reached down and cupped her bottom. Firm, gently curved, molded by worn fabric, it was exactly right.

“What. ?” she moaned when he lifted her to the table, then pressed the rigid swell of his arousal at the juncture between her legs. “Jacob?”

“Just this,” he breathed, flicking the top button loose from her flannel shirt. “And this.” The second button went. The third revealed a lacy bra designed to explode a man’s mind. “My, my, Miss McKenna. What have we here? Such feminine lingerie. You astonish me.”