Family of Three

Dad, you taught me the music of words, the poetry of a loving heart and the need to reach for a star. Though you are gone, your inspiration will always be with me. I love you.

JULIANNA MORRIS

has an offbeat sense of humor, which frequently gets her into trouble. She is often accused of being curious about everthing…her interests ranging from’oceanography and photography to traveling, antiquing, walking on the beach and reading science fiction. Choosing a college major was extremely difficult, but after many changes she earned a bachelor’s degree in environmental science.

Julianna’s writing is supervised by a cat named Gandalf, who sits on the computer monitor and criticizes each keystroke. Ultimately, she would like a home overlooking the ocean, where she can write to her heart’s content—and Gandalf’s malcontent. She’d like to share that home with her own romantic hero, someone with a warm, sexy smile, lots of patience and an offbeat sense of humor to match her own. Oh, yes.and he has to like cats.

Prologue (#ulink_850f125c-cf55-5dd3-a349-a0280d0f9181)

One Hundred Years Ago

Captain James Reynolds looked up from his journal and swore tiredly. Through the window he could see his wife, standing on the bluff and gazing out to sea. The wind swept her gown around her, accentuating the womanly curves of her body, heavy with his child. His manhood swelled, though her birthing time was too near to allow his passion freedom.

They had fought again. A bitter, angry battle. She wanted to travel on his ship, taking part in his business. But it was insane. The sea was unpredictable. He could not guarantee her safety, though he would give his life in keeping harm from her.

From their first meeting he’d been a man possessed. Her eyes enthralled him—mysterious, shifting, changing like the ocean, holding all the secrets he had ever dreamt of knowing. She had led him a merry chase, yet he couldn’t help loving her.

James lifted his pen. I understand her less now than ever, he wrote, pouring out his frustration and despair. If she was jealous, if she suspected me of being unfaithful, then I would understand. But she knows I would never betray our love. Were she not so sure it might be better. My beautiful lady, can you not be happy? Am I not enough for you, as you are for me?

James stared at the page. He could only hope. In time, she might find happiness with him.

The Astoria settlement was rocked by the news—the wife of Captain Reynolds had deserted him for another man, leaving behind her infant son and stealing her husband’s fortune.

Consumed by hatred, James obliterated his wife’s memory. No man or woman dared speak her name, except a stubborn midwife who swore Mrs. Reynolds would never have left her husband and child. But no one listened.

In the harsh silence of the fine house he’d built for their love, James taught his son to distrust women. to look for a meek, docile bride who wouldn’t tempt the soul from his heart and body.

The years passed. Tales of a ghost were deliciously spread. The unfaithful wife had been punished for her sins and was doomed to walk the sea cliffs in eternal damnation.

And in time, a grandson, and then a great-grandson were born.

Chapter One (#ulink_3036461a-5b49-5f2f-9e54-ade502f0f717)

The Present

“Stupid thing. Won’t fit…blasted…ouch!”

A series of mumbled curses came from under the sink. Two slender legs extended out from the cabinet, and a toolbox lay open with its contents scattered. A well-worn book on plumbing was propped open until the legs knocked against it and the volume fell forward in a heap.

A brown tiger-striped cat sat on its haunches, listening to his human mutter. From time to time he added his own “merowit” to the litany. Abruptly, one of the woman’s feet raised and kicked, and the startled feline jumped straight into the air. With a practiced air of caution, he sniffed the offending foot and meowed.

“Sorry, Captain,” Alysia said breathlessly.

The Captain raised his right paw and licked it. His life was untroubled by such mundane considerations as plumbing.

Another splat of dirty water hit Alysia in the eye. “Jacob Reynolds,” she swore, “I’m going to get even with you.”

Revenge was going to be heaped on the man’s head. She’d been swearing the same thing each day since she signed the three-year lease on his dilapidated house and property. She was definitely going to get even with him.

“Right?” she asked the enormous feline. He stared at her in his sphinx pose and didn’t answer. She grinned.

Abruptly, a loud knocking came from the front of the house, along with the trill of door chimes. Alysia scooted out, wiped her face with her left arm, then adjusted the sling around the plaster cast on her right wrist. She’d had it. Budget or not, she was calling a plumber. A real one. The knocking continued as she hurried to the foyer.

“Just a minute,” she called. Through the beveled-glass inserts of the door she saw a tall man with cool gray eyes and a determined face. “Jeez, another tourist,” she grumbled, even as her heart skipped unaccountably.

Dark and sexy. He looked familiar, but she wasn’t sure why. In spite of his forbidding expression, there was something appealing about the cleft in his chin, and the tiny lines at the corners of his eyes and mouth. Worry? Laughter? Pain? Her instant attraction to him wasn’t logical, but Alysia rarely concerned herself with logic.

“It’s about time,” the man snapped as the door swung open.

She stretched her five-foot-seven-inch frame to its full height. “The shop isn’t open. Didn’t you read the sign?” Alysia realized she should be more diplomatic, but she didn’t like pushy tourists—even if this one did send flickers of awareness jitterbugging through her veins.

“What shop?”

Her fingers gripped the door. Was he as smart as he looked? Or just a sexy moron? “Down there, it’s called the Captain’s Lair.” She pointed to the large structure, actually an old converted barn, which sat just off the road at the foot of the hill.

“You mean you’ve got some kind of shop in there?”

“It’s an antique store.” She gave in to temptation and shoved the door. Unfortunately, a large male foot obstructed the way. Her only consolation was the wince of pain crossing his bad-tempered face. “Get out of here,” she cried when he pushed inside. “This is my house.”

“Correction.” He whipped around. “This is my house, and I want to know what you’re doing here, and why my key won’t work.”

Startled, Alysia pushed a mass of sun-streaked hair from her forehead. Surely this couldn’t be Jacob Reynolds? The source of her daily frustration? The perpetually unavailable landlord who never returned calls or answered letters? Whose lawyer sounded nice, but put up roadblocks the size of Mount Everest?

Then it struck her. No wonder he seemed familiar—he looked just like the painting of Captain James Reynolds hanging in the study. The first time she’d seen the painting Alysia had felt an odd flash of recognition, and it came stronger now that she was face-to-face with his descendent. They shared the same look of self-assurance, the same authoritative bearing…and the same sensual shape to their lips. The biggest difference was that Captain Reynolds possessed a devil-may-care glint in his pirate’s eyes that his great-grandson decidedly lacked.

“Jacob Reynolds, I presume?” she said with a smile.

“Yes. And answer my questions.”

Alysia laughed. This was going to be fun. “I’m pleased to meet you. I’ve always believed tenants and landlords should get to know one another.”

Jacob’s eyes narrowed. He wasn’t anybody’s landlord. She was trespassing on his property, and he wanted her out. Besides, the way she’d said landlord sounded like an insult. Yet…he hesitated. Her green eyes seemed transparently honest and her manner was direct, without the usual feminine coyness.

“Look, I don’t know what kind of scam you have going, but I suggest you leave.” The woman laughed again and he tightened his fists. All his doubts, all his dislike of the old house, came rushing back. Only the knowledge that his fragile young daughter waited in the car kept him from returning to Portland and calling the proper authorities to handle the situation.

“But I have an unbreakable lease.as your lawyer, Matt Braeden, has pointed out numerous times. How could I leave? I mean, how could I want to leave the antiquated plumbing and wiring, not to mention the leaky roof and falling plaster?”

“You can’t have a lease. This was my grandparents’ home and I would never rent it.” Jacob thrust his fingers through his black hair in agitation.

“You certainly did. I’ll show you a copy.” Wheeling around, Alysia marched down the hall and into a side room.

Jacob followed, noticing the paneling on the study walls appeared to have been cleaned—he hadn’t remembered the wood having such a rich patina. He also noticed the woman’s jeans were a snug fit in the backside—the worn fabric molded her curves in a way he couldn’t help but notice.

She yanked a sheaf of papers from a drawer in the captain’s desk and waved it in front of his face. He groaned when he saw the signature. He must have signed the lease in the confused weeks after Tracy’s accident. “Miss—” he checked the name beside his own “—Miss McKenna, this is a mistake.”

“Oh?” She didn’t look particularly sympathetic.

“Yes. I own some other property down the coast, and I thought a dairy farmer wanted to use the land for pasture. It never occurred to me the lease was for the house. You see, I brought my mother and daughter down with me. We’re planning to stay for a while.”