Family Matters (6 page)

He was rewarded by a flush of color staining her cheeks.

“Kerry to you,” she snapped.

That flush had come from anger, then. Not from the slow rise of pleasure—

“Kerry,” he snapped back, equally as angry—with himself.

What was he doing, wasting time with thoughts like that about this woman when he had business to take care of? Though he could hardly get down to the bottom line when MacBride hadn't shown up yet.

“My mom and I were out all morning,” he continued. “When we got back, she sent me on another errand. And when
I
got back, she was gone. Something told me this might be a likely place to find her. But no luck.” He narrowed his eyes. “I've also noticed there's no sign of your uncle around here.”

“My.” She blinked rapidly several times. “You
are
a keen observer, aren't you?”

He couldn't help but grin. “I try. So, what's the story? He's lost interest in his own scheme already?”

The clipboard jerked to attention. “It's not a scheme. And, in case you've forgotten, I'm in charge of the renovations now. Which reminds me, I've got to see the manager. If you'll excuse me…”

Before he could react, she sidestepped him.

“Wait up, I'll go with you.”

Her gaze shot to his. “Why?”

“I'd like to speak to the man myself. It's a free country, you know.”

“Yes,” she agreed, smiling, “where people are innocent until proved guilty.” She started away from him, adding over her shoulder, “You might want to stay here. I may be a while.”

“That's okay. I'll just soak up the atmosphere while I'm waiting.” He followed in her footsteps, admiring the view of paint-spattered jeans and a thin line of pale skin showing beneath the edge of the sweatshirt. From the back, he could see she'd caught her hair in a gold clip and crisscrossed two pencils through the mop of auburn curls.

Unaware of his scrutiny, she led the way into the hallway and down to the office at the opposite end of the building. Outside the office door, a large carton rested on the floor, limiting passage through the hall. They walked around it and entered the room. Inside, a woman stood thumbing through a file cabinet drawer. At the sound of their feet on the tiled floor, she turned to them.

“Morning, Alice,” Kerry said. “Is Don around? I'd like to talk with him.”

“No. But…”

The woman looked past them to the doorway. Matt sidled up a half step closer behind Kerry, indicating they were together. Alice barely glanced at him.

“Kerry, he isn't a bit happy about Bren putting all those boxes and things in the game room. He didn't want to take it
up with Maeve, but he's planning to come in later today, even though it's Saturday, to track down your uncle.”

In front of him, Kerry's shoulders stiffened. The clipboard snapped up toward the sweatshirt again.

“Fine, Alice. Exactly what I wanted to talk to him about. I'll see him then.”

The bright tone she'd tried for came out sounding brittle, to his ears at least. Alice must not have noticed, because the frown lines between her eyes disappeared. “And, Kerry—” she gestured over their shoulders “—he wants that box in the hall out of here. As in yesterday.”

“No problem.” The brittle tone again. “I'll take care of it right now.”

Again before he could react, Kerry made a move, whirling toward the doorway, then stumbling backward when she found him standing so close to her.

He reached out quickly to grab her forearms, then wished he hadn't when his palms registered the sensation of warm, supple skin. Her eyes met his for a split second before she pulled herself away.

She dropped her clipboard onto a nearby chair and went out into the hall.

This time, following in Kerry's wake, he felt suddenly like a water skier losing control behind a runaway boat—and he didn't like the sensation one damned bit.

Matt actively disliked everything about the entire situation he'd been forced to step into. Except, maybe, this woman.

This woman, who had been coerced into things she'd rather not be involved in, either. This woman, who had somehow gotten to him in a way he couldn't explain or understand. All he knew was, she raised emotions in him he didn't want to feel. He had to get his mind back on business—right now.

“Kerry.” He reached for her, this time taking care to make contact with sweatshirt fleece before resting his hand on her shoulder. “Hold on a minute.” He kept his voice down, mindful of Alice in the next room. “This whole situation is ridiculous. We have to talk.”

Once they set foot back in the game room, there'd be no chance to see her alone. Although, judging by the skeptical expression she turned his way now, his chances of talking her into a resolution to the problems her uncle had caused might have been better if he'd cornered her where there were witnesses.

“I have work to do. Honestly, I don't have time to stand around arguing.”

“But you'll take on an irate manager later today, just to save your uncle's hide?”

“Why not?” One corner of her mouth quirked up. “I'm getting plenty of practice with an irate lawyer.”

Yeah, he had to admit she had a point. What made him effective in the courtroom might have him sound unintentionally ruthless in private conversation. Time to change his tactics. “Yes,” he said very calmly. “My argument exactly. I don't understand why
you
should have to do anything, when it was someone else who created this entire mess.”

“Then there's no use my explaining, is there? Because if you haven't caught on by now, you'll never get it.”

“Look, I'm only trying to give you an out.”

She nodded. “Thanks, but I can take care of myself.”

The sound of a file drawer sliding closed followed by Alice's footsteps crossing the tile floor cut off anything he'd have said next.

Kerry stooped down to pick up the short but wide carton near the door. Her look of chagrin as she tugged on the package told him she couldn't handle it alone.

Alice appeared in the doorway and eyed him.

His gaze ping-ponged from one woman to the other. He never reneged on his word, and he'd already said he wouldn't lift a hand to help. Looking down at Kerry, he shook his head, realizing he didn't need to back down on his original statement. Judging by her struggle, he'd have to offer
both
hands.

“I'll take an end,” he told her.

“Not necessary,” she said from between clenched teeth.

“Of course it is. My mother raised me to be a gentleman.”

Alice giggled.

Smiling grimly, Kerry said, “Fine. Let's get to it, then.”

As she reached for a better grip on her edge of the carton, the ragged neckline of her sweatshirt dipped downward, showing off a few golden-brown freckles but stopping short of anything tempting.

Just as well, because he wasn't interested.

Crouching, he reached for the other end of the package.

They lifted it from the floor, grunting in unison as they rose.

“What did your uncle put in here?” he demanded.

“Bodies, I think.” Her grimace revealed one slightly crooked tooth off to one side.
Cute.

The carton was too wide for them to walk side by side. Slowly, he backed down the hall, heading toward the game room. “You know we could get arrested for hauling cadavers around?”

“Where are you from,” she asked, “the permit police?”

“No, but I've got friends in the department.”

“Why do I find that hard to believe?”

“That there's a permit department?”

“No,” she said, puffing with exertion. “That you've got friends.” This time, the crooked tooth flashed in a fake grin.

“Very funny. Just my luck to get stuck with a comedian.”

Breathing more heavily now, she simply rolled her eyes.

“Do you want to stop and take a break?” When she shook her head, he adjusted his grip to take as much of the weight as possible from her. “What makes you think we'll get this to fit through the doorway?”

“If it doesn't,” she said between gasps, “I'll make it fit.”

He had a feeling she would, too. He laughed and eyed her over the top of the box. Again, he saw the slight flush that almost erased her freckles. He wondered if it came from anger this time.

They'd reached the game room, and he maneuvered himself backward into the doorway.

“We've got to hike it up to clear the plate on the frame,” he told her.

As they did so, his partner lost her grip on the box. It slid sideways and jammed in the doorway.

“It's all cockeyed,” she said. He didn't need to see her face; he could hear the breathless indignation. “It's got to be straightened out first.”

“No kidding. I'm trying.” The weight of the carton made it awkward to juggle from one end.

“Kerry Anne, is that you out there?” called a woman from the room behind him. He recognized Maeve MacBride's voice.

“Mind you don't put your back out, love,” she continued.

No concern for his back at all.

He might've expected that. After all, Maeve was Brendan MacBride's mother.

He returned his attention to the woman out in the hall. The woman he might never see again, if he didn't get this carton out of the doorway.

Just as he gave an extra-hard tug, he heard an extra-loud grunt from his partner. The box shot toward him, sending him backward and almost off his feet.

“Easy, lad,” said Maeve.

Something sharp prodded his shoulder. Was she resorting to stabbing to get him out of the picture?

Ignoring her, he helped Kerry right the carton and guided the rest of it through the doorway.

“Over by the far wall.”

He didn't much care for her barked order, but after a quick look at her flushed face and the damp curls corkscrewed on her forehead, he decided not to argue. Instead, he eased the carton to the floor.

Groaning, she stood up, stretching all five feet and a couple of inches of her, rested her hands on her hips, and arched her back. The move created a bigger dip in the neckline of her raggedy sweatshirt. How far down did those freckles travel, anyway?

Maeve MacBride came up to them, toting a canvas bag.
From the top of the bag protruded a pair of knitting needles—her weapon of choice, more than likely. He contemplated bringing her up on charges. Anything to provide a distraction from his latest thought about Kerry.

Maeve stood shaking her head. “You'll be needing a soak in the tub tonight, Kerry Anne.”

So much for distraction.
Instantly, he envisioned Kerry in nothing but a damp towel and a cloud of corkscrew curls. “As for
you…
” Maeve said abruptly, turning to him.

He jumped. Hoping like heck she hadn't read his thoughts, he cautiously looked her way.

“Not bad,” she said, taking a small, colorful object from her bag and slipping it into his T-shirt pocket, then giving his chest a tap. “We haven't seen a good day's work out of you yet, but I imagine that'll happen soon enough.”

He ignored whatever she'd put in his pocket. Chances are when he pulled it out, it would self-destruct in his face. He was beginning to get the idea that
all
the MacBrides were dangerous, each in their own special way.

“I don't think you ought to get your hopes up, ma'am. Carrying one box doesn't mean I'm going along with the plan.”

She laughed softly—and he'd heard friendlier sounds coming from convicted felons. “You might find yourself wrong there, laddie. There's being convinced, kicking and screaming. And then there's being brought around gently to another way of thinking.”

His old law school professor had told him that once, and the concept had served him well since then. Maeve MacBride climbed a few notches in his estimation—until she glanced from him to Kerry and smiled.

He glanced from her to Kerry and frowned. His stomach thumped, twice, as if he'd swallowed that pair of weights he never had time to use.

Pink-cheeked again, Kerry turned away.

Chuckling, the older woman followed.

He stood there, shaking his head.

Maeve wasn't thinking of hooking him up with her granddaughter, was she? He wasn't about to get involved with a woman until he'd made partner and could consider himself secure.

Although, he had to admit that Kerry was pretty cute.

Well, all right, Kerry MacBride was beautiful. He'd acknowledged that to himself yesterday during their ride back to Lakeside and reinforced the observation only minutes ago. She had a sexy grin that turned him on and a sharp wit that got him going, too.

She also had an unscrupulous uncle he'd sworn he would take down. That's what had gotten him here in the first place and what had brought him back again.
That's
what he needed to focus on.

Not beautiful Kerry MacBride and her sexy smile, but the pending disaster that would bring everyone to ruin.

A disaster brought on by the complete incompetence of the man who had just appeared in the game room doorway.

 

“O
H, NO,”
K
ERRY GROANED
under her breath.

She refused to turn back to look at Matt, who now followed at her heels. She hadn't yet recovered from dealing with him out in the hallway before Gran had brought her down with her sneak attack. Her cheeks were still burning from Gran's remark to him.

The lawyer already had a bad enough opinion of her family.

Besides, she didn't want him second-guessing her. She didn't want him feeling pity for her. And, most of all, she didn't want him thinking she could only get dates if they were arranged by her grandmother!

Now, looking to the other side of the game room, she
braced herself. Without a doubt, this situation was about to go from bizarre to unbelievable.

Uncle Bren and Matt's mother crossed the room toward them. Finally, Kerry had the opportunity to observe the woman up close. She looked about Bren's age, putting her near sixty, with salt-and-pepper hair in a trendy short cut and pale, perfect skin.

The growl coming from Matt confirmed Kerry's suspicions that things were about to turn ugly.

“Matthew.” His mother hurried toward him. “Sorry, I'm a little behind schedule. Brendan and I needed to discuss a few things. I thought you'd planned to meet me at the house.”

“I tried that. When I got back from picking up your prescription, you weren't there.”

“Oh.” A becoming pink blush suffused her cheeks.

“Meanwhile, I had some business I wanted to take care of here.”

“I see.” She shot a worried glance from one man to the other and finally settled her gaze halfway between them. “Hello. You must be Kerry. I'm Olivia Lawrence. I've heard so much about you from Brendan.”

“Hi.”

Matt's growl revved up to the sound of a cement mixer.

“And from Maeve, too, of course,” Olivia rushed on, as if afraid her son would break in. Or more afraid of what he would say if he did.

The man didn't seem to have much patience with anything.

Sure enough, he stepped forward a pace.

“MacBride. About time you showed up.” He looked at the crowd around them. “We need to talk. Alone.”

She'd wondered where Uncle Bren had gotten to earlier, after he'd somehow slipped away when she wasn't looking. Or had she been hoodwinked by Gran? As horrible as it felt
to think that of her own grandmother, she knew it might not be far from the truth.

In any case, she wished Uncle Bren had stayed away. He'd taken a belligerent stance with hands fisted and chin raised. A problem just waiting to happen. Yet, even as she winced at the sight, his gaze skittered away from Matt, as if he'd suddenly become afraid of facing up to this lawyer who meant nothing to them but trouble. The reaction bothered her, and all her protective instincts jumped to the fore.

Somehow, she managed to clamp down on them.

Matt had been nice to her; he'd helped her. For a brief time, she'd even dared to hope they might manage to work together. But he had said it himself. Assisting her with one box didn't mean he'd joined their cause. She had to remember that. And she had to support Uncle Bren.

“Wait a minute.” She put her hands on her hips and turned to Matt, looking up to make sure he met her eyes. “First of all, can you lower your voice, please, before anyone else notices?” So far, her volunteers had stayed busy at their tasks, and the last thing she wanted was to draw attention if he planned to start renewing his threats. Considering the state of their finances, she desperately needed those volunteers.

That thought pushed her forward.

“Second of all,” she said to Matt, “any discussion you need to have with Uncle Bren, you can hold in front of me. Especially if it concerns the amusement park.”

“I can't guarantee it will be fit for a lady's ears.”

She exhaled abruptly, forcing the most unladylike snort she could manage. “You know where I work. There's nothing much you can say I haven't heard a student say before.”

“Maybe your students don't consider you a lady.” He glanced toward his mother.

And maybe Matt didn't, either. No big surprise there. No one ever did. With Sean and Patrick born before her and Colin
and Brody coming after, she'd focused more on keeping up with the boys than on developing any feminine wiles. She'd been a tomboy forever, probably always would be. Still, the idea that this man might have classified her after a few hours' acquaintance set her temper alight. She could get her Irish up as well as Gran could. But that wouldn't help the situation. Fighting for control, she pressed down so hard with her hands, she practically fused them to her hips.