Her Sister's Children

Her Sister's Children
Roxanne Rustand

She's got something he wants–his land. And something he doesn't know he has–his son!When Claire Worth inherits Pine Cliff–a resort on Lake Superior–from her late sister, Claire also get guardianship of her five-year-old twin nieces and her fourteen-year-old nephew. The resort she can manage; motherhood is something else again–especially when her sister's first husband shows up with plans of his own.Ever since Logan Matthews lost Pine Cliff, his familiy's home, in a bitter divorce, he's had nothing to do with his ex-wife or her new family.Logan wants the place back. And now he has the means to fight for what's his. But he's becoming more and more attracted to Claire. He loves the warmth and laughter she and the children bring to Pine Cliff. And there's something about Claire's nephew that reminds Logan of himself at that age.Suddenly, there's a whole lot more at stake….

The kids were enough... (#u5c6c9a1b-bbc9-5306-b285-3d7ce32d34ea)Letter to Reader (#uf6dca15b-4321-5368-889a-d1d2fadd604f)Title Page (#u52beb4c3-9f39-5e5b-9802-0abb79ee76db)Acknowledgments (#u0dce5c0f-96a1-58eb-9d6c-ca8ba94e6115)CHAPTER ONE (#u056b6724-3c2e-5525-8c5d-3e88b541e0bc)CHAPTER TWO (#u108c4a39-227b-5498-8ce3-35fc5a765fc5)CHAPTER THREE (#ue8ae63f4-dbf6-5f6b-9588-aceb3c7edded)CHAPTER FOUR (#ub5d859f6-530a-5e72-858e-26e4d77c5725)CHAPTER FIVE (#u8aebfd0d-e27b-59d8-aca7-c80370a242cd)CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

The kids were enough...

Claire had neither the time nor the inclination to complicate her life any further. So she would simply ignore the ridiculous, simmering attraction she felt every time Logan Matthews came into view. Instead—like any good neighbor—she’d do her part to establish a polite, somewhat distant relationship.

Not a problem. She’d earned the furtively whispered nickname her former employees had given her. Any Frost Queen worth her crown could easily control errant emotions.

And when she succeeded, she wanted an Oscar for Best Actress of the Year.

Dear Reader,

Each autumn for decades, as the leaves start to change and the air turns crisp, my family has headed up to Lake Superior’s North Shore. The steep cliffs, fragrant pine forests and wild beauty of Superior are unforgettable. What could be better than sitting around a campfire at midnight, with a wash of stars overhead and the sound of waves rushing against the shore? As children, my brother and I loved every moment we spent there, and now my own children love it just as much. We always hope Superior will grow fierce while we’re there, and send waves exploding against the cliffs.

I hope you’ll enjoy this story about a woman who leaves her urban life behind to take on the challenges of raising her sister’s young children in just such a place. The enigmatic man next door creates even greater challenges for her—especially when painful secrets from the past are revealed.

If you’d like to write, I would love to hear from you. My address is P.O. Box 2550, Cedar Rapids, IA, 52406-2550. Thanks so much!

And Mom and Dad—thank you for all the wonderful trips north, and for the beautiful memories. No childhood could have been better!

Roxanne Rustand

Her Sister’s Children

Roxanne Rustand

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

Many thanks to Leigh Michaels, Kylie Brant, Diane Palmer, Kathie DeNosky, Chelle Cohen, Lyn Cote, Monica Caltabiano, Shelley Cooper, Suzanne Thomas and Julia Mozingo. And special thanks to Rob Cohen. You’ve all helped my dreams come true!

CHAPTER ONE

IF SHE’D KNOWN about the snake, Claire would have thought twice about leaving New York.

Jason’s two-foot albino corn snake slithered sedately across the kitchen floor and coiled itself into a neat, flesh-colored pile at the base of the refrigerator. From unwelcome experience, Claire knew Igor would bask in the warmth of the motor indefinitely—to avoid northern Minnesota’s early-September chill, no doubt.

The children’s dog or cat napping there would have an altogether different—a more domestic—effect on the room. But Gilbert, the elderly poodle, always took off for the farthest reaches of the old Victorian house whenever Igor managed to escape his guaranteed-escape-proof reptile cage. And Sullivan, emitting Siamese yowls to rival any civil defense siren, had found her usual refuge on top of the cupboards.

Claire had developed an aversion to snakes as a child, but she’d never argued over Jason’s ownership of Igor. She’d tried to make every concession possible in hopes that Jason would feel welcome and happy. Nothing had worked.

A car door slammed. Heavy footsteps marched up the concrete walk. With a sigh, Claire remembered her days in New York as assistant personnel director of her father’s electronics firm. After four weeks of strangers knocking at her door at all hours, mountain-high piles of laundry and a phone jangling from morning till night, her familiar world of deferential employees and maid service was rapidly gaining appeal. Her parents’ wealth had never bought happiness, and her rise in the company had been her father’s dream, not hers, but there had been some definite advantages to having money.

She’d made her decision, Claire reminded herself with a rueful smile. She’d welcomed the challenge of taking in her late sister’s three children, although she had serious doubts about ever adjusting to their pets. So now she could dwell on her problems or view her new career as an exciting challenge. Here at Pine Cliff Resort she could finally succeed on her own merits, away from her family’s influence. And after losing their parents in a car accident six months before, the kids needed her, not a nanny. Nothing mattered more than giving them the best possible life. She loved them too much to settle for less.

A sharp knock on the door echoed through the room. Smiling at an older woman staring at her through the screen, Claire crossed the gleaming vinyl floor. “Can I help you?”

“I’m Mrs. Rogers,” the woman announced in a two-pack-a-day baritone. A cloying odor of heavy perfume and stale cigarette smoke blew in as Claire opened the door. “I have reservations.”

The decibel level of Sullivan’s yowls rose.

Though built like a woman who could clear timber and slay bears before breakfast, Mrs. Rogers drew back in alarm. She leaned to one side to peer suspiciously past Claire. “Where’s the manager?”

Suppressing a chuckle, Claire ushered the older woman into the small entryway and turned to the rolltop desk by the door. She ran a finger down the names in the reservation book. “I’m the new manager. Is cabin three okay?”

The woman shook her head and tapped the toe of her shoe against the floor. “When I called in June, I was promised the end cabin, as always. Check your book again.”

Claire dutifully rechecked the reservation book. “That one will be open tomorrow, but three does have a lovely view.”

A heavy, disapproving silence hung in the air. “We stayed in three once. My Henry, rest his soul, said the bed didn’t have enough support—” With a sharp intake of breath, Mrs. Rogers stepped backward, her eyes widening.

Apparently, she’d seen Igor. “Anything else?” Claire asked sweetly. A companion for your cabin, perhaps?

Handing the speechless woman a pen, Claire snagged a set of keys from the strip of Peg-Board on the wall and silently thanked Igor for cutting short a potential tirade. Until a month ago, Claire had fired irritating people. Now she had to smile at them.

It wasn’t easy.

After Mrs. Rogers backed out, key in hand, Claire lifted a bag of blueberry potpourri from a shelf above the desk, but decided that the delicate fragrance wouldn’t have a chance against the raw scent of cologne still clouding the air. Frowning, she opened the three windows behind the claw-foot oak table, then watched the lacy white curtains dance high on the incoming breeze. The children deserved a clean, cheerful home, not one smelling like a nightclub at midnight.

She glanced over her shoulder at the clock above the stove. Two-thirty. Just enough time to finish cleaning the last cabin before meeting the school bus at the resort entrance.

For a moment, an image of the children’s smiling faces and eager chatter warmed her heart. Maybe this time one of the kids would give her a hug. But Claire knew there was a greater chance for an August blizzard. The twins’ subdued, sad-eyed compliance and their brother’s veiled hostility hadn’t changed since she’d picked them up in Minneapolis last month and brought them north. Brooke’s will had given Claire the resort and custody of the children, but no legal document could guarantee an easy adjustment.

A second sharp knock at the door startled Claire. Another pleasant guest, no doubt.

She gave the snake a stern glance. “Stay!”

Motionless, with approximately the same dimensions and personality as a small pile of men’s underwear, Igor stared back at her. He looked unimpressed.

Summoning her best innkeeper’s smile, Claire lifted her chin and turned toward the door. A tall, broad-shouldered man in faded jeans and an ancient Nike T-shirt stood outside. His buff-colored jacket had the scent of fine leather. Backlit by bright af ternoon sun, his features were cast in shadow, but Claire had an eerie feeling she had met him before. A shiver raced down her spine.

“Yes?” She moved a half step closer and looked up into the stranger’s face.

Only he was no stranger.

Her heart stopped. Her breath caught raggedly in her throat. Logan. The past fourteen years had hardened the youthful beauty of his features, adding breadth and power to his elegant body. His hair had darkened to deep, sun-streaked caramel, but there was no mistaking those seductive deep blue eyes. Her pulse raced. Her knees wobbled. He was everything she’d remembered, only much, much more.

But this man was as safe as a plateful of nightshade or a midnight stroll in Central Park. He’d been the object of her first adolescent crush, then become the creature of her youthful nightmares.

And he had nearly destroyed her sister’s life.

Suddenly aware she was staring, Claire lowered her eyelashes. She felt momentarily unable to speak. What did one say to the devil himself? And why on earth was he here?

The silence lengthened, grew awkward. After taking a steadying breath, she lifted her gaze and caught his expression of supreme frustration. “Can I help you?”

“I hope so.” The boyish charm and humor of years past were gone, leaving a man who could glare the snarl off a rottweiler. “All I need is information. Can I come in for a minute?”