His Unexpected Family

“You can see,” she said as he entered the kitchen behind her, “why I want this room modernized.”

He glanced around and murmured in agreement. The cupboards were faced with outdated Formica, the appliances were ancient and an unfashionable olive green, the linoleum so old the pattern was worn away in places, and the lighting fixtures pathetically inadequate. Yup, he thought, it would be a pleasure to gut this place out and start from scratch!

He returned his attention to the woman walking to the countertop by the sink, and watched her reach up to a side cupboard for two mugs.

She was in front of the window, and backlit against the brilliant sunshine. All he could see of her was her shape—her slim shoulders, her hand-span waist, her curvy hips.

She had some gorgeous figure!

“How do you like it?” Her voice came to him through a scarlet mist of lust.

“Oh, I like it just fine!” he said.

“I beg your pardon?”

Her frosty tone jarred him out of his carnal fantasies. “Ah, the...er...coffee. Black‘l be just fine. Thank you, ma’am.”

She didn’t invite him to sit, so he leaned back against the countertop, ankles casually crossed.

She stood, like a robot, with her hands cupped around her mug, the steam rising so that her face seemed to shimmer.

OK, he thought, time to get this over with.

He leveled a steady look at her luminous brown eyes, with their luxuriant fringe of wheat-blond lashes.

“Your husband,” he said. “Does he agree with you about tearing down the staircase?”

He saw her fingers tighten around her mug. “I’m a widow, Mr. Spencer. Every decision I make is my own.”

A widow. So the lovely little heiress hadn’t had it quite as easy as he’d thought.

“Sorry to hear it.” And he was. Being a single parent was a tough row to hoe. “Must be lonely for you. How long is it since...”

“Six years.”

The answer came out as reluctantly as if he’d forced it at gunpoint! “And you’ve been living... where? Vancouver?”

“Yes.”

“Did you graduate...from U.B.C.?”

“No. I wanted to stay home when Megan was a baby.”

“You were fortunate to have that choice. And now...well, you still have that choice—to be a lady of leisure...as you pretty much would be, with Megan in school. But Pete tells me you’re planning to run this place as a B and B. Surprised the hell out of me—”

“I’m not a parasite, Brodie.” Anger flared in her eyes. “I want the satisfaction of knowing that I’m earning the money my child and I will be living on. And while we’re on the subject of money, there’s something I’d like to clear up. Your daughter loaned Megan some money yesterday, for hot dogs. I’ve had a talk with Megan about this—she’s been brought up never to lend or borrow. I gave her money this morning to repay the loan—”

“No problem.” He waved her words aside. “Glad Jodi could help.”

“The point I’m making is that I don’t want it to happen again.” A vein pulsed at her temple. “In the future, if Megan doesn’t bring lunch money, she’ll have to go hungry.”

Brodie got the distinct feeling that there was more to this than seemed on the surface. Like a dentist who suspects a tooth may not be as healthy as it looks, he decided to probe.

“Jodi tells me she’s invited Megan to spend this Saturday afternoon with our family. I’m supposed to confirm that she can come.”

“Megan mentioned something of the kind.” A pink flush colored her cheekbones. “I’ve told her we’ll discuss it on Friday. She’s only just started school here. I don’t want her to...rush...anything...” Her voice trailed away, but her chin came up in a stubborn tilt.

There it was, then; a crack in the beautiful white enamel. And... something rotten underneath?

“Ah,” he said. “In case a better offer comes up.”

The flush in her cheeks deepened till her skin was as red as ripe raspberries. “That’s not what I said.”

“No, that’s not what you said.”

God, he could hardly believe it But he might have known. Despite being an adult now, the Westmore brat—the Westmore Widow!—was just as much a snob as she’d been at seventeen. No way was she going to allow her precious daughter to become friends with Brodie Spencer’s kid

No way.

It was Jodi he felt sorry for. She’d seemed very taken with this new girl. She was going to be mighty disappointed—and hurt—when she discovered that Megan Westmore was forbidden to play with her.

Dammit, he detested snobbery!

He slammed his mug down on the table.

“Right!” he said. “We know where we both stand. So let’s not waste any more of each other’s time on it. Let’s get back to business! You want us to rip down that staircase? Fine, we’ll rip it down. The only problem is that the replacement you told my estimator you wanted—white-enameled wrought-iron—is back-ordered and won’t be available till late October. So in the meantime, we’ll do the kitchen. I’ll get a couple of men up here this afternoon and we’ll get the project under way. You realize you’ll be without a kitchen in the meantime?”

“Yes.” The raspberry color had seeped from her face; now it looked pale as cream. “Megan and I will use the kitchenette in what used to be the servants’ quarters. You’ll just have to let me know when you’ll be shutting off the water, electricity, and so on, so I can work around it.”

“You’ll need to choose new cupboards, appliances, floor covering, wall tiles, paint...” His gesture was wide. “Come down to the store sometime, just call first and set up an appointment and I’ll show you around. Give you advice.”

He sensed her hackles rise when he mentioned giving her advice.

“You do that, too?” she asked. “As well as the...donkey work?”

The hands that had itched to reach out and touch her hair a few minutes ago now itched to reach out and wrap themselves around her pretty little throat.

“Yes,” he said in a gritty voice. “As well as doing the donkey work I do, on occasion, dole out advice.” If he stayed, he knew he’d say, or do, something he’d regret, so he excused himself and made for the door.

As he strode angrily out to the foyer, he knew exactly what she was thinking: Hell will freeze over, Brodie Spencer, before I ever seek advice from you!

Dammit! he thought. She was the most infuriating woman he’d ever met...and the most arrogant. But he’d knock that arrogance out of her, one way or another, if it was the very last thing he ever did.

Kendra managed to hold herself together till she heard the front door slam behind him.

Then she sank down on the nearest chair, her mug still clutched in her hands. She realized she was shaking. Taking a long gulp of her coffee, she stared blindly into space and tried to sort out her thoughts.

What was it about this man that disturbed her so deeply? Was it the physicality of him? The earthiness? The sexy aura he emanated? Or was it his mocking tone, the cocky arrogance he revealed in her presence? He never really did or said anything out of place...yet it was always there, under the surface. The... battle...between them.