to the tip of the lower forty-nine. He just had that way about him.
On the surface, there was nothing not to like. If Shayne Kerrigan was the strong, silent type, his best friend was the strong, vocal type. And granted, it was not annoyingly vocal. Ike didn’t talk on and on, overwhelming the listener. But it was how he said things, more than how often or how much. He could make “Please pass the salt” sound like the opening line to an invitation for a torrid night of lovemaking.
Marta knew all about men who were quick to smile, quick to murmur terms of endearment and undermine a woman’s defenses. Knew all about men whose eyes led to the bedroom and whose words led to heartbreak.
She’d been, lamentably, a slow study, but she’d finally learned her lesson. Once was enough, thank you very much. She didn’t believe in making the same mistake twice. Only fools did that.
Even so, it was hard not to find the man charming. Marta wished that Sydney hadn’t placed Ike directly in her line of vision.
Luckily, the conversation all through dinner was almost nonstop, not a little of it thanks to Sara and Mac. Any momentary lull, however natural, was quickly filled with the sound of childish voices, asking Marta more questions, telling Ike what they’d done since his last visit to their table, sharing all their thoughts openly. Marta sat back and absorbed the atmosphere that vibrated around her, while trying to block out Ike’s section of the table.
“You really struck gold up here,” Marta enthused a little later as she helped Sydney get the dessert plates from the kitchen cupboard.
“We’re the ones who struck gold,” Shayne corrected Marta, walking into the room bearing a couple of plates. “Before Sydney came into our lives, Mac and Sara had set up hostile camps in the house. They wouldn’t even talk to me. And, in their defense, I wasn’t much of a father. I didn’t know how to be one.” There was love in his eyes when he looked at his wife. “It took Sydney to bring out the best in all of us.”
Looking back, it was hard for Shayne to believe that all that was a little more than one short year in the past. After a six-year separation following a particularly bitter divorce, he’d suddenly found himself being called on to be a father again. His ex-wife had been killed in a car crash. With her gone, there was no longer anyone to stand in the way of his seeing his children, something she had done just to spite him. He’d brought them back from New York City, uprooting their lives and garnering only resentment as a harvest. When he’d brought Sydney into his home, giving her what he’d thought at the time was only temporary shelter, she’d walked straight into an armed camp.
Standing at her side, Shayne enveloped Sydney in his arms.
“She worked her magic on us and suddenly made us all realize how precious life was and how sinful it was to waste even a minute of it alone.” Standing beside her, he kissed her temple. And even from that position, he felt the baby kick. Surprised, he laughed. “Looks like we’re not going to be alone for a good, long time.”
Marta could have sworn there was a twinkle in Sydney’s eyes as she looked up at her husband.
“Oh, I think we can manage to find an island of time here and there.” She glanced behind Shayne. “Ike’ll baby-sit, won’t you, Ike?”
Caught off guard, Marta turned around to see that Ike was standing behind her. For a tall man, he moved extremely quietly.
Bringing in more empty dinner plates, Ike placed them beside the sink. Clearly amused, he shook his head. “Now, you know I’ll do anything for you, but watchin’ a newborn’s a little out of my league. Best you get one of the women from the village to tend to him or her until they’re old enough to go ice fishing with me like those two in there.” He nodded toward the dining room.
Well, at least there was something he didn’t pretend he knew how to do, Marta thought, surprised at the disclaimer. She’d expected him to boast about his child-rearing abilities.
She supposed that wasn’t being fair. She hadn’t heard him actually boast about his abilities and accomplishments, real or imagined, the way Alex used to.
Still, she’d only been in Ike’s company for a couple of hours, she reminded herself. Maybe he was just on his best behavior right now, such as it was.
As if on cue, Ike turned toward her, his eyes passing over her face like a gentle caress. “I’m actually at my best when the person I’m minding is far older than an infant.”
“That, I’m sure—” Marta purposely made her tone sugary “—is a matter of opinion.” Picking up the pile of plates from the counter where Sydney had placed them, Marta turned her back to Ike and crossed back into the other room.
Shayne couldn’t resist nudging Ike, his friend since elementary school. “Looks like you’ve got your work cut out with that one.”
“I’ve always loved a challenge, haven’t you?” Ike winked, taking the apple pie that he’d brought to dinner out of Sydney’s hands. Using his back, he eased the door open and walked into the dining area.
Shayne looked down at Sydney. “He means it, you know.”
Sydney smiled warmly. “I know.”
“Maybe you better warn your friend.”
Sydney wasn’t sure if warn was exactly the word to use here. She knew Ike to be a warm, caring human being. Not one woman who had ever shared his company had a single bad word to say about him. He left women better than he’d found them, with a renewed sense of confidence and a radiance about them. If nothing else, she wanted that for Marta. After what she’d gone through with Alex, she more than deserved it.
“Marta can take care of herself. Besides—” Sydney smiled, looking at the closed door leading into the next room “—Ike might be the very best thing to happen to her in a long time.”
Chapter Four
The sound of the flames licking their way through the thick logs nestled in the dark brick hearth worked its way into the stillness of the room.
Holding the black mug of even blacker coffee between his hands, Ike sat back on the brandy-colored leather sofa, quietly regarding the woman who sat on the opposite end. She looked like an arrow poised to be released at any moment.
He wondered if he made her nervous. He was going to work on that. The prospect made him smile.
“You know who you remind me of?”
His deep voice, wedging into what had been a long silence, startled her. Marta took a breath, bracing herself. Oh, boy, here it came, the line he undoubtedly prized above all others. He was probably going to compare her to some bright, nubile young super-model currently reigning on the covers of fashion magazines, thinking that would make her pliant and receptive to his every suggestion.
Prepare to be disappointed, LeBlanc.
She turned haughty green eyes in his direction, confident she had his number. More confident that she wouldn’t be dialing it. “Who?”
He smiled over the rim of his mug before taking a sip. “My sister, Juneau.”
Marta stared at him. That wouldn’t even have come close to making her list of flattering observations. Men who wanted to get a woman into their
