Her Sister's Children

Claire considered the options of firmly dismissing him, or slamming the door in his face. The latter would be infinitely more satisfying, but—

Taking advantage of her brief hesitation, he reached out, opened the screen door and strode into the kitchen.

Claire pulled herself together—fast—and snatched the receiver from the phone on the desk. Her finger punched the first number of 911 before she had the receiver halfway to her ear.

Logan reached out, but she slid away and punched the second number. “Back off,” she snapped.

He looked at her in surprise and held out his hands, palms up. “I was going to shake hands and introduce myself. Are you always this edgy, lady?” He managed a damn good expression of innocence.

“Of course not. People don’t barge into my house every day.”

“Believe me, I’m no threat.” His voice was calm and low, with the quiet reassurance one might use with a frightened child.

Claire’s finger hovered over the last number. “Make one more move and I finish this call. The sheriff will respond whether I say a word or not.”

“No need.” He stepped away and slowly turned. The tension in his body seemed to dissipate as he studied the antiques and small paintings adorning the lace-curtained room. “Someone has been busy,” he said with a trace of bitterness. “Brooke was never one for the warm-and-welcoming look. I’m Logan Matthews, her first husband. All I need is the address and phone number of her executor.”

Claire stared at him. He doesn’t recognize me. Of course, fourteen years ago she’d been a child in pigtails and cutoffs, and the effects of her passion for French fries and hot fudge had been all too obvious. “Why do you want to know?”

“I’ve had remarkably bad luck trying to contact members of her family in New York and Minneapolis.” Logan ran a gentle hand over the surface of the old oak cupboards, as if reliving a memory. “My lawyer’s calls haven’t been returned and my letters came back unopened. Not twenty minutes ago, her mother’s housekeeper hung up on me for the third time.”

“Must have been your gracious manner,” Claire muttered under her breath, sending up a silent prayer of thanks that Brooke’s children were the product of her second marriage. Once Claire got Matthews out of her kitchen, she would never have to see him again. “Surely you can’t think you were mentioned in the will.”

He gave her a look of complete disgust. “Of course not. But Brooke died owning something that belongs in my family.” He looked away and hesitated, as if considering how much to say. “She won this half of Pine Cliff in our divorce settlement. She’d always hated the place, yet she refused to sell her half back to me at any price.”

Claire lowered the phone to her side, feeling continued reassurance in its cool surface under her fingertips. “There must be other properties you could buy that are in much better condition.”

He moved across the room to the trio of windows overlooking Lake Superior. Bracing one arm high on a window frame, he silently stared out at the waves. Claire studied him in the bright sunlight. He had the face of an angel, but she knew his heart and soul belonged a lot farther south.

“I inherited this place from my grandmother years ago,” he said at last. “I just want a chance to buy it back.”

The faint note of underlying pain could not have come from him. Not unless he’d decided to gain her sympathy. She remembered Brooke’s tearful stories of how deceptive he’d been, how callous. But Claire was not the breezy, naive girl her sister had been. If he thought he could manipulate Claire Worth, he was dead wrong. She marshaled her coldest, most businesslike tone. “I’m her executor. Pine Cliff is not for sale.”

Logan turned and studied her for a moment, his eyes reflecting dawning recognition. “Claire?”

“Right.”

“Blond, but I don’t see any other resemblance to Brooke.” A hint of a smile tilted one corner of his mouth, although his eyes remained grim. “You were what, thirteen? Fourteen or so when she and I divorced? I can imagine what they told you.”

“Enough,” Claire snapped.

“I can see there’s probably no point in discussion,” he said slowly, his voice tinged with regret. “Brooke’s version of the past must have been... convincing.”

“It certainly worked for me.”

“Are you planning to sell later on?”

“I’m planning to stay,” she retorted. He stood there like a man in a TV commercial—muscled. sexy and altogether too appealing. Her sister had fallen for him almost overnight.

He lifted one eyebrow. “A little far from your social circle, aren’t you?”

“That’s not your concern.” Some of his old charisma surfaced in a lazy half smile and a teasing glint in his eyes, but she was not taken in. The flutter of her pulse came from tension, not a response to the dark and smoky tone of his voice.

He glanced at the open reservation book on the desk, then gave her an incredulous look. “You’re managing this place?”

“Yes.”

“You won’t last”

Exactly the sentiments of her ex-fiancé in New York, who had declared her incapable of raising three children and foolish for giving up her career. Of course, he’d been trying to protect his plan to become her father’s protégé and heir. Claire felt the heat of anger rising in her throat. “I’d like you to leave.”

Logan shook his head. “I should have recognized the Worth family wit and warmth right away.” He walked to the door, hesitated, then dropped a business card on the desk. “Blood does tell.”

“Out!”

His mouth curved into a faint smile, but no flash of humor showed in his eyes. “You’ll be in serious country-club withdrawal by Thanksgiving. You’ll be dying to sell. Don’t bother with a real estate agent, just call me. You’ll save time and won’t get a better price.”

As soon as he stepped outside, Claire shut the heavy oak door and rammed the dead bolt home, then moved to a window by the desk. After Logan’s gleaming black Explorer disappeared up the lane, she sank into the creaky swivel chair at the desk.

The faint scent of sandalwood and leather lingered in the air, sending her thoughts flying back to the time when she had nurtured the world’s most intense, embarrassing crush on this man.

As a teenager caught up in the throes of her first impossible romance, Claire had thought her older sister’s boyfriend represented masculine perfection—tall, witty and handsome enough to compete with any teen idol. She’d lived for glimpses of his slow, easy smiles, loved the way his eyes crinkled at the corners and deep dimples grooved his cheeks. He’d always ruffled her hair and teased her, treating her like a kid sister.

Her lack of perception at the time still astounded her. Granted, she’d been an inexperienced young girl, but how had she missed seeing what the man was really like? In all her life, no one had ever fooled her so completely.

Shoving a hand through her short-cropped hair, she started to sweep Logan’s business card off the desk and into the wastebasket, but his address caught her eye. She stared in disbelief. Matthews Architectural Associates, St. Paul, Minnesota. A local phone number and address had been written at the bottom. The address nearly matched that of Pine Cliff. Claire’s heart missed a beat.

It was discomforting to know that one of her neighbors had a long-term grudge against her family, and a proven propensity for deceit.

CHAPTER TWO

“I DON’T like fish.”

“Meat loaf. With baked potatoes?”

“No.”

“Hamburgers?” Claire stared at the thirteen-year-old tyrant standing in front of her, trying to ignore the snake looped casually around his arm. From the defiant gleam in Jason’s eye, she knew exactly why he held Igor—and why the creature managed to “escape” so often. Exasperated, she tried again. “Hot dogs?”

Jason shot her a look of utter disdain. “Our nanny never gave us hot dogs. Mother’s orders.”

Claire turned to the five-year-old twins, Annie and Lissa, who sat perched on matching stools at the breakfast counter like two wide-eyed owlets, silent and unblinking. “How about you girls?”

They stared at her, fidgeted, then simultaneously shot pleading looks toward their brother, who scowled back.

“Would you like to go out for pizza?” Claire cringed at her own desperate, pleading tone. The board members of Worth Electronics would die laughing if they could hear her now.

“Yes!” The twins spoke as one, their eyes lighting up with delight. Neither risked even a glance at Jason, whose sullen expression spoke volumes about their defection.