style="font-size:15px;"> Guilt tugged briefly at Caitlin’s conscience. The only explanation she’d given the Twin City Trends’ style editor was that Devon was too busy to be involved in the makeover contest. Maybe he hadn’t exactly said those words, but they had to be true. A single dad raising three kids…while writing the next great American novel.
What had she gotten herself into?
Devon didn’t really want her help. He’d swallowed his pride because of his children. And it was easy to see that the man was going to be a rebel. The “I hope you can be flexible with my schedule” comment was the first gauntlet he’d thrown down.
Caitlin picked up a tasseled pillow and buried her head in it.
“He’s not the only one with a schedule,” she complained. “I have a schedule, too. And it’s booked solid through the first of the year.”
“Cait?”
Caitlin dropped the pillow and jackknifed into a sitting position at the sound of a muffled voice behind her. “Don’t you ever knock?”
“Why should I?” Her sister Meghan grinned. “I have a key.”
“Number four on my list of mistakes,” Caitlin said under her breath.
“I didn’t think you made mistakes—what were the first three? I promise I won’t tell Evie.” Meghan flopped down on the couch and Caitlin caught a glimpse of knee-high beaded moccasins under Meghan’s long skirt.
She groaned. “Moccasins, Megs? You’re killing me here.”
“Aren’t they great?” Meghan hiked up the hem on her tiered khaki skirt to show them off. “Cade bought them for me.”
“I don’t believe it. What have you done to the poor man?”
“The same thing I’m trying to do to you.”
“Drive me crazy?”
“No, silly. Break you out of the first-born overachiever mold. Help you lighten up a little.” Meghan swung her legs over the side of the ivory leather sofa and adjusted the pillows behind her back.
“Make yourself comfortable,” Caitlin said dryly.
“Thanks.” Meghan chuckled when Caitlin rolled her eyes. “Where’s Mr. Darcy?”
“Sulking. Dinner was late.”
“Poor baby. Did you get held up by work or traffic?”
Caitlin hesitated as Devon’s face flashed in her mind. She’d only met him twice and yet somehow her memory was able to retrieve every one of his features with stunning clarity.
Meghan tilted her head, sending a mass of strawberry blonde curls tumbling over one shoulder. “Should I repeat the question?”
“Work.” As much as she hated to admit it, Devon Walsh had officially become work. What was she going to do about him? Or more important, what was she going to do with him….
“Wow.” Meghan’s voice infiltrated her thoughts.
“What?”
“You were daydreaming.”
Caitlin’s fingers curled into the pillow. “Don’t be silly.”
Meghan leaned forward, studying her with something that could only be termed as fascination. “And for a second there, you had The Look.”
“What look?”
“The Look. You know, the one a woman gets in her eyes when she’s thinking about a certain guy.”
“Please.” Caitlin vaulted out of the chair. “Have you eaten supper? Because I’ve got some leftover seafood fettuccine—”
“You. Are. Blushing.” Meghan jumped up and blocked her escape route.
“Megs—”
“Who is he? Have you told Evie—” Meghan pushed Caitlin down on the sofa and plunked down beside her. Bringing them nose to nose.
“No!” At times like this, Caitlin questioned her decision to live in the same city as her younger sibling. “Was there a specific reason you stopped over or—”
Meghan clapped her hands together, effectively drowning Caitlin out. “Oooh, that means I get to tell her.”
“There isn’t anything to tell,” Caitlin ground out. “He’s a new client. A client. That’s all. And the only reason I was—” she hated to admit it “—thinking about him was because he was the last appointment of the day.”
The last unscheduled appointment of the day. And if Caitlin would have known how it was going to turn out, she would have made sure Sabrina sent him on his merry way. Sans gift certificate!
“A client.” Meghan’s shoulders drooped. “Really?”
“Really.” Caitlin sounded so convincing, she almost believed it herself.
“Oh. Sorry, it’s just that we—” Meghan bit down on her lower lip to prevent the rest of the words from spilling out.
Not that it mattered. Caitlin could guess what she’d been about to say.
They didn’t want her to feel left out.
Both her sisters had found love within the past year and a half and their father, Patrick, teasingly took the credit for both successful matches. Even though Caitlin knew it had to be a total coincidence that Patrick’s hobby—finding lost family heirlooms—had inadvertently led to both her sisters meeting the men they’d fallen in love with.
Another reason to limit the number of visits to Cooper’s Landing! She didn’t want her father pulling her into any of his crazy schemes. Or playing matchmaker for the only single daughter left in the McBride family.
“It’s okay. Bask guilt-free in the glow of your own happiness,” Caitlin said. “You know I don’t have time for a relationship.”
“You won’t make time for a relationship,” Meghan countered. “And Mr. Darcy, as much as I love him, doesn’t count.”
“Ah, Megs—why did you say you stopped over?”
“I didn’t,” Meghan said brightly. “But since you brought it up, fettuccine sounds good.”
“Great.” Caitlin hopped to her feet again and escaped to the kitchen, grateful for the distraction.
She loved her sister dearly but she didn’t want to talk about Devon Walsh. She didn’t want to think about Devon Walsh. There’d been no daydreaming. No look.
Meghan followed, Mr. Darcy draped over her arm like a trendy purse. “So, this guy…what’s his name?”
Caitlin shot her a suspicious look. “Devon Walsh. Why do you ask?”
“Does
