James had indicated that she spent a lot of time at the center and was actively involved in the running of the educational tourist attraction.
And he’d told her he was an artist…a painter, for crying out loud. He swiped a hand through his curly hair and sighed. He’d regretted the words the minute they had left his lips, but she’d surprised him by asking what had brought him to Cherokee Corners and what he did for a living.
Painting had sprung into his head because he’d found a half-completed paint-by-number of a Native American on horseback in the kitchen when he’d moved in. Telling Rita Birdsong James that he was an artist leaped to his lips before he’d had an opportunity to think it through.
Of course, an artist was certainly more exciting, more exotic than his real job as the owner of a small, but successful accounting firm. And he had a feeling that telling Rita that he was interested in Cherokee culture had granted him instant access to their family gathering that afternoon.
At that moment Breanna’s front door opened and a little girl danced outside, followed by Breanna. Adam stood and his heart jumped into his throat as his gaze was captured by the child.
Kurt. Her long, curly brown hair was all Kurt’s, as was the slender oval of her facial structure. As she smiled up at her mother, another arrow pierced through Adam as he saw the dimple that danced in one cheek…just like the dimple that had made Kurt’s smile so infectious.
Breanna saw him and waved him over as she opened the driver door to her car. “Good afternoon,” she said as he approached. “This is my daughter, Maggie. Maggie, this is Mr. Spencer. He’s going with us to Grandma’s house.”
“Hi, Maggie.” Adam fought the impulse to lean down and grab the child to his chest. He hadn’t expected the emotions that now rolled around inside him as he continued to gaze at Kurt’s child. “Mr. Spencer is kind of a mouthful. You can call me Adam.”
“Okay,” Maggie agreed with a bright smile. Even her eyes were all Kurt’s…dark gray and sparking with life. “You want to see my horse?” She held out a necklace, where a plastic charm in the shape of a horse dangled. “His name is Thunder.”
“That’s a fine name for a horse,” Adam replied.
“Maggie, get inside and buckle up. We need to hit the road.”
As Adam got into the passenger seat, Breanna watched as her daughter buckled into the back seat, then she got in behind the steering wheel.
The shock of seeing Maggie wore off somewhat and he became conscious of Breanna’s scent…a mixture of wildflowers and patchouli, slightly exotic and definitely appealing.
Her appearance was just as appealing. Her coral-colored T-shirt was a perfect foil for the darkness of her hair and her white shorts set off the rich, bronze tones of long, shapely legs.
Last night her features had been almost garish with heavy makeup. Today her face had a freshly scrubbed kind of beauty.
“Tell the truth, Adam.” Kurt’s voice filled his head. “You’ve always been jealous of my life and you’ve always wanted my women.” Adam frowned and consciously shoved his cousin’s voice out of his head.
“Thank you for letting me ride with you,” he said, trying not to dwell on the fact that today her hair was down, loose and flowing and more beautiful than he’d imagined. “It was so nice of your mother to invite me.”
She flashed him a quick smile as she backed out of the driveway. “If my mother had her way, all of Cherokee Corners would come to their barbecues. She loves people.”
“That was obvious in the brief time I spoke with her.”
“She tells me you’re a painter. Would I have seen any of your work anywhere?”
Again Adam regretted his impulsive claim. “Only if you rummage through trash cans on a regular basis,” he replied dryly. She laughed and a wave of pleasant heat swept through him at the sound of her melodic amusement.
“If that’s the case, I hope you don’t paint for a living,” she replied.
“No. Actually I’m an accountant by trade. That’s how I make my living.” It felt good, to be able to give her this much truth.
“So what brings you to Cherokee Corners? This isn’t exactly a financial center. Unfortunately this town has far too high a quota of people living in poverty.”
“My office is in Kansas City. I’m not here in Cherokee Corners permanently. With tax time behind us for the year, I decided to give myself a little vacation and with my interest in Cherokee culture and art, this seemed like the place to spend a month or two.”
“Do you have any little girls or boys?” Maggie asked him from the back seat.
Adam turned and again felt that jarring burst of emotion as he looked at her. He tried to steel himself against it. The last thing he wanted was to become emotionally involved with this child and her beautiful mother. “No, honey. I’m afraid I don’t. I don’t have a wife or children.”
“How come?” Maggie asked, her gray eyes gazing at him with open curiosity.
“That’s a personal question, Maggie.” Her mother replied before Adam got a chance to answer. “It isn’t nice to ask personal questions.”
“Oh. Is it personal to ask if he could get some kids so I’d have somebody to play with?” Maggie asked.
Breanna flashed Adam an apologetic look. “There aren’t any children Maggie’s age in the neighborhood and so she’s always hoping somebody will move in with kids her age.”
“I’m afraid I can’t help you, honey,” Adam said. “I don’t see any kids in my life now or in the future.” He turned around to look at Breanna once again. “Your mother mentioned that you all work in law enforcement.”
She nodded and made a left turn at an intersection. “My father retired from the police force a year ago. He was chief of police for a number of years. My brother, Clay, works in crime scene investigations, my sister, Savannah, is a homicide cop and I work vice.”
“Rather unusual, isn’t it, that all of you chose that line of work?”
She shrugged. “I guess. For me, it was just a natural choice. Dad loved his work and listening to him talk about it as I was growing up, I knew very early that I was going to be a cop, too.”
“Why vice?”
“Why not?” she countered. “It’s a job somebody needs to do and it’s where my superiors feel I’m most needed.”
“You had just gotten off work last night when I met you?” he asked. She nodded and he grinned. “You make a very convincing lady of the night.”
She cast him a glance that was distinctly cool. “And you almost got yourself shot as a prowler.” She returned her focus out the front window.
Prickly, Adam thought. Or maybe it wasn’t the best thing to tell a woman she made a perfect streetwalker. Maybe his people skills were rustier than he thought.
He decided the best thing to do was to keep
