Family Matters (11 page)

As the silence went on between them, she blinked and ran a hand through her hair, dislodging the crossed pencils she'd had stuck behind her head. A few long curls fell, dangling near her face, looking soft and sexy and touchable.

As unlike the woman herself right now as they could be.

Turning, she strode off, her loose curls dancing like flames.

He stared after her, enjoying the fire. He wanted to pull those pencils from her hair. He wanted to let
all
those curls hang free. He wanted…to bring his wandering thoughts back to the business at hand. They refused to cooperate.

A long sigh shuddered through him.

Why was he struggling over this?

He'd come to his decision before leaving Chicago, had returned to Lakeside firmly intending to keep the promises he'd made to himself: He would talk to Kerry, but not touch her. Tease her, flirt with her, but not get involved.

Obviously, his brain and body didn't want to obey.

They would have to. But could they?

Hadn't they already let him down?

The realization hit with the stunning force of a riot baton.

No matter his decisions, his honorable intentions, his need to make things right for his mom once in his life, he had to admit the truth to himself. And only to himself.

He'd come back to Lakeside—back to Rainbow's End—because he'd had to.

Because he couldn't stay away.

 

A
SHORT WHILE LATER,
Kerry heard the sounds of sneakers slapping heavily against the wooden planks of the pier and sighed in relief. Anything to get a break from Matt, who had been shadowing her every move.

“Hey! What're ya doin'?”

She turned to see Brody racing toward them, flapping his arms and legs in exaggerated motion.

Colin followed at a more deliberate pace.

She had to swallow a smile. Her brothers would be sure to rub Matt the wrong way, but that could be all to the good. The tension between them seemed almost tangible.

They needed something else to focus on besides each other.

Brody's childish antics would do it.

“We're taking inventory,” she answered him.

“Taking it where?”

Colin rolled his eyes.

Before Kerry could answer, Brody's attention snapped to Matt. “Hey, I'm gonna be a juggler in the circus, did I tell you?” He pulled out the three worn rubber balls he was never without and began bouncing them from hand to hand.

“You did mention it,” Matt said.

“Yeah. A juggler—and a lion tamer.”

“You've had a lot of experience training wild animals, have you?”

“Only Blank.”

“And that would be…”

“Gran's cat,” he explained. “Blanketyblank. She's pretty wild—but only when you're pulling her tail.”

“Do you do that often?” Matt's lips compressed, as if he were holding back a laugh.

“If Gran's not around, sure. It's fun.” Brody squinted up at him. “I was gonna run away and join the circus right now, but Kerry said I have to wait till I'm eighteen.” He scowled. “Then I'll be too old to have
any
fun.”

“I doubt that,” Matt said. “You can still find things to amuse you when you get to that age—and even older.” He turned to Colin. “What are you going to do at this circus? Be the ringleader?”

Colin snorted. “Ha-ha. Real funny. I'm going to be a mountain climber.”

“Wanna see me?” Brody interrupted, hopping from foot to foot. “Hey, look!”

They watched as he tossed the balls a little higher, moved them more rapidly from hand to hand. With all the practice he got in, he actually had become fairly skillful at juggling the soft rubber balls.

“Not bad,” Matt said, nodding.

“Anybody can do that,” Colin said scathingly.

Brody grabbed the balls in midair and glared at him. “Oh, yeah? Let's just see
you
do it.”

Colin said nothing.

“I'll show
you.
” Brody moved across to the side of the pier and hoisted himself onto the wooden railing.

“Brody—” Kerry began.

“I got it, Ker.” He planted his feet and rose to stand upright on the rail. “It's easy. See?” He tossed one ball after another, until he again had all three in play. The bright rubber flashed in the sun as he bounced the balls from hand to hand. “Told ya I'd show you, Col,” he boasted.

“What's so hot about that?”

“Colin…” This had gone too far, in Kerry's opinion.

What would Matt be thinking of the boys? They were so rowdy and energetic, and he was… He was a lawyer. A serious, straitlaced, by-the-book lawyer.

And how would he connect their actions to
her?
She hadn't thought about that when she'd welcomed her brothers as a distraction.

“Colin,” she finished, “that's enough. And, Brody, that's dangerous. Get down—”

“I bet
you
can't do—” Brody lost his footing. His words ended in a shriek. He flailed his arms, trying to stay on the rail.

All three of them jumped to his aid.

All three of them were just a second too late.

Brody plunged from the pier and landed with a tremendous splash in the lake.

Matt strode down the hallway of the clubhouse, thinking of Brody MacBride and shaking his head.

They'd gotten the kid out without having to drag the lake. He'd swum over to one of the pilings and raised both hands—the balls clutched in his dripping fingers—high enough for Matt, spread-eagled on his stomach on the wooden boards, to reach down and haul him up.

Brody had turned out none the worse for wear and water—until he discovered he'd lost the third rubber ball and screeched twice as loudly as when he'd fallen into the lake.

Kerry, looking more dismayed than either of the boys, had sent them home.

Somehow, Matt managed to get through the rest of the afternoon without commenting on her crazy brothers.

He also managed to survive not getting close enough to touch Kerry.

All right—to tell the truth, she was such a whirlwind of activity, he had trouble keeping up with her. But he'd made a vow to keep her in sight at all times.

If this situation could have been handled in a logical way, he would never have needed to take vacation time. He could have contacted his mother frequently by phone.

He could have gotten updates from Kerry long-distance. But could he trust her for those updates? Not a chance.

She hadn't given him satisfactory replies about her uncle the other day, and that fact still bothered him. Well, when the detective he'd contacted came through, he'd find out all there was to discover about Brendan MacBride.

Kerry was another story.

He didn't like the fact that she evaded his questions. Or the habit she had of walking off and leaving him more uncertain than before. She was quick on her feet and she was smart; he'd recognized that from their very first meeting. The only solution to keep her from getting away was to stay right by her side.

He nodded in satisfaction at the idea. From now on, Kerry Anne MacBride would be sharing more than conversation with him.

She'd be sharing her personal space. On a regular basis.

They'd just returned from an early dinner, and he'd taken a trip to the clubhouse office to pick up yet another package that had been delivered for the amusement park. He walked into the game room now to find her alone, her cell phone at her ear.

“I'm sorry, too, Professor.” Her voice cracked. “You know how much it meant to me. I'd give anything to get on the next plane, but I can't leave my family right now.”

He paused in the doorway, about to retreat into the hall. Her back was to him, and she didn't know he was listening. This seemed like it could be the same professor she'd talked to the other day during their ride to Lakeside. She wouldn't discuss that call with him then and probably wouldn't discuss this one now. He wondered what was up. Sooner or later, he'd find out.

Before he could move, she said into the cell phone, “All right. Please let them know how sorry I am. And have a wonderful summer.” She clicked off the phone, set it down on the
nearby pool table in front of her and picked up her clipboard. Her shoulders slumped, as if she held an enormous weight.

After clearing his throat to announce his presence, he walked up and plopped the box on the table. “Here it is.”

He watched her enter the new arrival on her board, then go down the list, checking off the items they needed to transfer to the only fully enclosed building on the pier.

Her face was like a mask, without expression or emotion. That bothered him. He had to say something that would get a response.

“You're very orderly for an artist, aren't you?” he asked.

She looked over at him and frowned. “Well, thanks for the backhanded compliment.”

“No problem. But I didn't intend it that way. I'm impressed by your organization. I mean that sincerely.”

“Thanks.” This time, the words came with a small smile.

“It's too bad you're not getting more help. You've got to admit, we haven't seen much of the other MacBride adults around here.” He considered himself a candidate for sainthood for not pointing out they hadn't seen her uncle at all.

“And we've had too much contact with the younger MacBrides,” she put in. “Is that what you're saying?”

He looked her straight in the eye. “Do you expect me to argue that?”

“I suppose not.” She gave a half-strangled laugh. “Not after Brody's big splash.”

“A big responsibility for you, taking care of those boys.”

“Gran does most of it.”

The easy conversation between them made him think he could risk trying to find out more about her. “You're very…levelheaded compared to the rest of your family. Who do you take after? Your mom?”

“I hope not!”

He stared in surprise at the heat in her voice. “I gather you aren't on good terms.”

“Our letters were friendly enough.”

He raised inquiring eyebrows.

She shrugged. “She and my father were archeologists. They were always away on digs, or at conferences or off drumming up finances to support their trips overseas. So we wrote to each other. Occasionally.” She smiled, but he didn't see any happiness in it. “It was like having a pen pal who'd drop me a line from time to time.”

“That must have been devastating.”

“I got a great stamp collection out of it.” This time, she tried a laugh. It broke in the middle.

“Don't you see them at all?”

“I did, once in a while, when they were between projects or needed to do their fundraising in this part of the country. Or when my mother came back home to have another baby.”

“They ought to be brought up on abandonment charges.” He tried to temper his words, to make his tone more sympathetic, but couldn't do it. The raw pain in her expression caused him to champion her, the same way he defended his clients in court. “They sound awful.”

She shook her head. “They weren't, really. Actually, they were wonderful, fun and full of life and exciting to be around. And very much in love with each other. They just weren't cut out to be parents.” With her free hand, she waved as if to erase her last statement. “Maybe that's too cruel. Maybe they just didn't have the kind of job that made it easy to stay together as a family.”

“Yet they didn't mind having a brood of kids and leaving them with your dad's parents to raise.”

“I don't know.” She turned back to her clipboard and sighed. “Things might have been different if they hadn't been killed in an accident a few years ago.”

His breath caught at the flat, matter-of-fact statement, and he waited for her to explain. But she simply continued with her thought.

“Eventually, they might have retired and come home to raise us. Or Colin and Brody, at least.”

He wanted the rest of the story but knew the value of letting a witness lead.

“Instead, Gran and Grandpa raised us.”

“They just took their son's kids in, enabling your parents to go on their way, letting them shirk their responsibilities.”

“If they hadn't, my parents would have left us with someone else.”

“You don't mean that.”

“Yes, I do.”

The skin around her eyes looked strained and pale. He suddenly realized that pushing her to talk made him no better than her parents. Damn his inquisitive nature.

“Archeology was their life.” She sighed. “My family tends to run to obsessions. Gran and her environmental issues. My parents and their archaeology. Gran found room in her house and her life—and her heart—to take us all in. For my parents, the archaeology was enough. They had that—and each other. They didn't need anyone or anything else.”

He shook his head. He'd seen plenty of kids involved in worse situations. He hadn't had it much better himself, if he got right down to it. In fact, things had actually gotten better once he'd had an absentee parent. But Kerry's situation, and her reaction to it, tugged at emotions he didn't know he had.

“I'll confess,” she said, looking back at him, “I'm envious of your relationship with your mom. You obviously love each other and get along well.”

“We do. We always have. And she knows how much I look out for her interests.”

“I'm sure she does. Even I can see that.” She paused, then added, “What about your father? You've never said anything about him.”

He shifted away from her, shuffled his feet, cleared his throat. He didn't want to talk about the man, didn't even want to think about him.

“Hey.” He attempted a grin and knew he'd failed. “How'd we get so serious all of a sudden? And why all this talk about the past? We've got enough going on in the present.”

“But most of it's not something we can discuss. At least, not without arguing over it.”

Her mouth twisted in what had probably started out as a smile. He didn't like the expression at all. He wanted to see her lips smooth again, wanted to feel her mouth under his. Wanted her to smile, fully and genuinely, showing off that cute crooked-tooth grin. All for him.

A shiver went through him. Lust? Fear? Anticipation?

Maybe all of the above.

He lunged for the package they had picked up from the hardware store when they'd gone out for their supper. “I'd better run this lock over to Carl, if you're still planning to move these supplies to the pier today.”

She nodded and turned back to her job. He took one last, lingering look at her before turning away and running the back of his hand across his suddenly damp forehead.

It had occurred to him there was one thing they could do that they didn't have to argue about.

And it didn't involve talking at all.

 

“W
HEW.
W
ELL, THAT'S
done.” Kerry sighed and wiped her forearm across her forehead. “It's very late—all that took a lot longer than I'd expected.”

With Colin and Brody's version of assistance, they had finally carted all of the supplies from the game room over to
the storage shed. Then she had sent the boys home before meticulously going through her inventory sheets again. Not that she didn't trust her brothers. But she had to admit they were a handful with all their shenanigans. Better to make sure everything tallied, because it would be just her bad luck to have the man standing beside her discover something missing.

She looked at Matt, who had spoken very little during this last job of the day. The presence of the boys, energetic as they were, might have had something to do with that.

“It's been a long day,” she said, unable to come up with anything more interesting. Too bad she hadn't resorted to trite phrases earlier, instead of so uncharacteristically dumping her life history on him. She never opened up to anyone about her family—and she still regretted telling him as much as she had. “We've inventoried every single item now on this pier.”

“Twice, I think.”

She couldn't hold back a laugh. “Well, we had the time, thanks to all the volunteers who handled the prep for the painting marathon tomorrow.” Until Carl had finished inspecting all the equipment, they would concentrate on desperately needed cosmetic improvements to the park. She flipped the pages on her clipboard forward and shoved the pen into her hair. “I think we're done for the night.”

Stepping past Matt, she exited the shed ahead of him. She'd had the electricity turned on, and after he'd followed her out, he flipped the switch and closed the door behind them.

Twilight had brought the twinkling lights of fireflies and the faint glow of a moon shadowed now and then by clouds. The air was warm and close.

And so was Matt.

Beside her, he secured the new padlock on the door. In the shadow of the building, she could barely see his eyes, but couldn't miss the silhouette of his strong jaw, firm mouth, stubborn chin.

A definite attraction. And a definite
dis
traction.

His presence beside her the entire afternoon and evening had made concentrating on her jobs a challenge.

After their initial skirmish that day over his joining the team, he'd proved himself an excellent worker, as well as a true gentleman. He'd politely held doors and escorted her in and out of buildings and booths, allowing her to enter first except when they'd come across any potentially hazardous situations. They had fallen into a reluctant but successful relationship. Truthfully, after their rocky start, his cooperation had surprised her.

“Thanks for your help today,” she said softly.

“I'm on the team,” he replied.

“Yes. So you are.”
A reluctant but successful
working
relationship.
How foolish was she for wishing it could go beyond that? “I'll check the game room again in the morning,” she said, half to herself, “just to make sure nothing was left behind.”

“I doubt it.” Matt leaned back against the door. “The way you had those volunteers hopping, they wouldn't dare miss anything.”

“Am I that bad?” she asked in dismay.

“No, you're that good.” He lightly touched one of the tendrils of hair that had fallen loose from her knot and rested against her shoulder. He lifted his hand, grazing his fingertips along the pulse at her neck. She felt the beat rise at his touch and hoped he hadn't noticed it, too.

He smiled down at her, as if he
had
noticed. As if he knew what she'd been thinking. Her breath caught in her throat.

He reached out for her, urging her closer to him.

She moved forward, tilted her head back, looked into his eyes, silvery in the light now that another cloud hovered in front of the moon.

He ran his hands slowly up her arms and across her
shoulders, finally curving his fingers around her face. His thumb brushed her mouth, and something trembled deep within her.

She closed her eyes and swallowed hard, her throat suddenly tight but the rest of her astonishingly relaxed, languid. Ready.

She could feel him move closer, could sense his breath on her lips. Then she heard a muttered curse and her eyes flew open.