what he was. She darted him a hostile glance where he sat at the center work island, in conversation with his child.
Unfortunately, he was also better-looking than a movie star and more electrifying than the local power company.
Brooke Hamilton finally had to admit that she was in a lot of trouble.
Brooke couldn’t eat, not after Garrett’s callous announcement of his intentions. She played with her food, although her guests seemed to be enjoying the simple meal.
Because she was so upset, she found herself watching him with a kind of suspicion normally foreign to her. She prided herself on being an honest, straightforward person who didn’t jump to conclusions. Yet as she watched father and daughter together, she found herself jumping to a lot of conclusions.
Garrett, she quickly decided, was...different when he was concentrating on his daughter. It was a side of him obviously kept well-hidden under normal circumstances. But what kind of relationship did the two of them really have? Molly called him by his first name, for heaven’s sake—or as close to his first name as she could get. That did not denote the kind of closeness he seemed to be seeking.
And then Brooke found herself concentrating on Molly, in an effort to keep her thoughts off Molly’s father. There was something curiously...sad about the little girl. She was polite and attentive, but perhaps a bit quiet and even a little withdrawn. When she turned those beautiful long-lashed amber eyes on Brooke, something melted inside and Brooke found herself wanting to enfold the child in a loving embrace.
Where was Molly’s mother?
Brooke pushed the question aside. If she wasn’t careful, she was going to get sucked into the Jacksons’s family circle despite her best efforts to the contrary.
Molly popped the last bite of sandwich into her mouth, daintily applied a paper napkin, dropped it on the counter and slid from her stool. “May I be excused, please?” she inquired. “The cats need me.”
“You’re excused.” Garrett sounded indulgent. “But don’t get too involved with that cat, okay? We’ll be going back to our own house soon.”
Molly frowned. “I think I like this house better,” she said, her glance darting from her father to Brooke.
“Nevertheless...”
Molly understood. Sighing, she turned toward the doorway.
When she’d disappeared, Brooke said a heartfelt, “She’s adorable.”
“I think so, too.” But he said it in a rather brooding manner.
She couldn’t help adding, “Her mother...?”
“Is dead.”
“Oh! I’m so sorry.”
“Thank you.” He touched a napkin to his mouth. “Lunch was terrific. Thank you again.”
“You’re welcome.” She chewed on her bottom lip for a moment. “Garrett, what you said earlier about selling the estate—”
“I meant every word.”
She sighed. “I see. I was hoping I’d misunderstood.”
“You didn’t. Look,” he added a bit impatiently, “why don’t we put off serious discussion until Molly and I have a chance to get settled?”
“Of course, if you say so, but—”
“There’s plenty of time.”
Rising, he stretched, flexing movements bringing the muscles of his upper arms into stark relief. He looked fit and firm and ridiculously attractive.
She began gathering up the plates to divert her attention. “I suppose you’re right.”
“I know I’m—damn!”
Startled, she looked back at him. He was staring at his feet with a horrified expression. When she looked down, she saw Gable twining around his ankles like a clinging vine.
She burst out laughing. “Gable must be having a nervous breakdown to get close to a dog person,” she teased.
Garrett shuddered. “That’s not it.” He gave her a pained glance. “Animals like me. Even cats. I don’t know why.”
“Come on!” She couldn’t help scoffing. “Cats are much more discriminating than that. I’m sure Gable doesn’t like you any better than you like him. He’s probably just trying to bug you.”
“Then he’s succeeding beyond his wildest dreams.” Garrett slid back onto his stool and pulled his feet up to the first rung. Gable cast him a pained glance, then wandered off. The man looked relieved. “I hate when that happens,” he said. “I don’t know why, but cats love me. The damn things won’t leave me alone.”
She rolled her eyes. “I don’t think so.”
“Want to bet?”
“What’s with you and bets?” She stared at him, perplexed. “Are you a compulsive gambler or something?”
He raised his brows. “Or something. I’m not afraid to take chances once in a while, if that’s what you mean.”
She felt her hackles rise. “Meaning I am?”
He shrugged. “If the shoe fits...”
“It doesn’t. I just don’t see anything to be gained by...by taking crazy risks.” She felt herself growing flustered and wondered why.
“Hey, betting on whether or not a cat’s got any smarts is hardly the same as taking a crazy risk—especially if you have the courage of your convictions. How about this—I’ll bet I can get cozy with your cats before you can make friends with my dogs. Name your own stakes. Make it easy on yourself.” He gave her a knowing wink.
She recoiled in horror only partly mock. “No way!”
He ignored her protest. “So what are the stakes? Let me think....” He made a great show of entertaining a plethora of fleeting thoughts, at last sitting up straight with a snap of his fingers. “Hey, I’ve got it! This is a B ’n’ B, right? How about the winner gets breakfast in bed?”
“How about—” And then she realized he was laughing at her and her outrage evaporated. She finished lamely, “We forget the whole thing? Cats are not taken in by cheap tricks and neither am I.”
“Meaning dogs are?”
“I don’t know anything about dogs and that’s more than I care to know.”
“An unreasonable attitude if I ever—”
The mellow clang of the entry bell startled them both. Brooke hadn’t realized how deeply he’d drawn her into the escalating confrontation until she was jolted out again.
Glad of the interruption, she headed through the parlor to the front door, Garrett
