that kind of breathtaking beauty, how could he not? Feeling more interest in a woman than he had in some time, Jess made no effort to hide his blatant appraisal of her.
A cascade of ash-blond curls fell around her shoulders, which were exposed by her snug green halter top. Low-slung jeans molded her curvy hips, thighs and endless legs. She removed her sunglasses and brilliant green, questioning eyes gazed back at him.
To his surprise, he felt his breath catch. His chest expanded in an effort to draw in enough oxygen to sustain him. His throat went dry. Jess felt more life surging through him than he would have believed possible. Still, two questions hammered at his mind.
Who is this gorgeous woman, and why is she staring at me?
When Karen had heard the man’s name, her heart beat had sped up. She gasped. Unable to believe her luck, she stared across the narrow aisle at Jesse Kingston. His gaze slid over her. Rather than seeing it as an insolent gesture, she felt her body warm involuntarily, as though he’d actually made physical contact with her skin. He was probably one of the handsomest men she’d ever encountered. Windblown waves of jet-black hair framed his tanned face, and the set of his square jaw proclaimed an unbending nature.
Stop it, Karen!
But the desolate look in his dark brown eyes struck a chord inside her. A sharp ache passed through her heart. She knew that look. She’d seen it often enough on her own face while she was growing up. Loneliness. She also knew he’d never admit it, because she never would have. She’d lived inside her painful world, praying for someone to notice. But no one ever had.
Even though she empathized with his pain, there was nothing she could do for him. Nothing she wanted to do. So why did she still feel this overwhelming need to try?
Since Paul’s death, she hadn’t noticed any man, drop-dead handsome or dirt ugly, and her unsolicited reaction disturbed her. Why now? Why him?
Mentally shaking herself, she redirected her thoughts. She hadn’t come here to ogle the local male population. Jesse Kingston interested her for two reasons and two reasons only—to find out how to contact Paul’s family and to discover how much of an accident Paul’s death had really been. And there was no time like the present to start finding those answers.
She stood and walked to the booth where Jesse sat, his gaze still fastened on her. “Hello, Mr. Kingston. I’m Karen Ellis.” She extended her hand. He ignored it. Despite the obvious snub, she waited for some reaction from Jesse, but none came. “I need to talk to you about Paul Jackson,” she said before she lost her nerve.
Jesse’s face grew grim and stiff. “I have nothing to say about Paul.”
Throwing her what could only be classified as a disdainful glare, Jesse laid the paper aside, stood, then tossed a few bills on the table. He shouldered past her and walked out the door to the diner.
Chapter 2
Jesse sat in his SUV outside his youngest half sister Emily’s house, his mind focused on Karen Ellis. The woman’s beauty had stirred to life emotions that he hadn’t felt in a very long time, if ever. But he couldn’t allow his testosterone to rule his thinking.
What did she want to know about Paul and why? Had she heard about the suspicious circumstances of Paul’s death? Was she a reporter?
Though this parade of questions drummed at his mind, he knew he had other fish to fry right at the moment. He stared at the sprawling white Victorian house he’d grown up in, debating whether or not to go in. Some potent memories awaited him inside that door. Was he strong enough to come face-to-face with them? Did he even want to?
Still groping for an answer, he glanced up in time to see the front door fly open and his half sister Emily hurry onto the porch. Following her were Rose, Emily’s mother-in-law, who had been the Kingston’s housekeeper for years; Emily’s husband, Kat Madison; and their twin little girls, Cat and Casey. Kat slid his free arm around Emily and pulled her close to his side.
The family picture created the same hollow ache inside Jesse that he’d felt all his life—he was a part of the household, but not the family.
A tap on his side window drew his attention. He turned to find his other half sister, Honey Logan, staring in at him.
“Are you planning on getting out sometime soon? Em has to put the twins to bed before dawn, you know.” A wide smile softened Honey’s words.
Jesse grinned sheepishly, opened the door and stepped out. Before he knew what was happening, her welcoming arms enveloped him. Quickly, he pried himself from her embrace and took a step to the side, the small distance between them doing little to ease the discomfort he’d derived from the emotional welcome.
“How are you, Honey?” He shoved his hands in his pockets.
She stood back, then glanced over her shoulder at a man Jesse hadn’t noticed before, her husband, Matt Logan. “I’m happy, Jesse. Very happy.” Her radiant smile affirmed it. Finally, that was one part of his past he could put to rest. If only the rest would prove that easy.
Jesse shook hands with his newest brother-in-law. “Matt.”
“Jesse. Good to have you home.”
Honey reached for a young boy standing near her and pulled him to her side. “Danny, say hello to your uncle.”
The boy looked exactly like his father. Danny held out his hand to Jesse. “Hi, Uncle Jesse.”
“Hey, Danny.” Jesse shook the small hand.
“Hey, remember us?” Emily called from the porch.
“Would you let us forget?” Honey called back, displaying the usual banter that had been the signature of his half sisters’ relationship all their lives, a relationship from which Jesse had always felt excluded.
They all headed for the porch and more hellos. By the time they were ready to go inside, Jesse still hadn’t been able to shake the strange discomfort he’d gotten from their enthusiastic greetings and his inability to return them. Coming into his sisters’ lives at the age of nine, he’d never been really close to either of them.
Hesitantly, he let Rose lead him into the house. He paused for just a moment on the threshold. Emily’s mother-in-law smiled, patted his arm and urged him forward with a gentle nudge to his back.
“It’s not the same place, Jesse,” Rose told him softly, then added an understanding smile.
The house was nothing like what he remembered from the time Rose had cooked and cleaned for his father. Emily had completely redecorated it with bright colors, ruffled curtains and tons of greenery. Two identical playpens filled with toys and stuffed animals occupied the space where his father’s recliner—the chair Jesse had always referred to as “the throne”—had stood. A golden retriever lazed in a puddle of sunlight near the playpens.
One thing was missing—something that made the most distinct difference, something he’d always associated with this room—his father’s cigarette smoke. This had been the room where Jesse had come face-to-face with his father for the first time, where he’d come frequently to have punishments meted out, where he’d confronted his father over Honey’s impending, disastrous marriage to Stan, her first husband, and where he’d seen his father for the last time. More than anything
