woman must fit into one of those categories.
But Connie and Wade were celebrating their return from Brazil with a houseful of guests. He didn’t want to disturb them. As Wade’s lawyer, David was accustomed to handling things for his friend. He decided he’d handle this guest, for now.
He bent and scooped the young woman into his arms.
“Who’s that?” Darla asked. His little sister had a habit of soundlessly appearing at his elbow.
“I don’t know,” he murmured, leading the way to the study. “One of Connie’s friends, I guess. She fainted. I think she’s sick.”
“Oh.” Darla watched as he laid the young woman on the sofa. “Can I help, Davy?”
David smiled, brushed his hand over her shiny brown hair in a fond caress. Darla loved to help. Though nineteen, a skiing accident had left Darla with a brain injury that cut her mental age in half. David’s goal in life was to make his sister’s life as rich and happy as possible. It was becoming a challenge.
“Sure you can help, sweetie. Why don’t you go in the bathroom over there and get a wet cloth?” he suggested. “You can wipe her forehead. She seems to have a fever.”
“Okay.”
Darla hurried to do as asked, her mood bright because of Connie’s party. “Like this?” she asked him, dabbing the cloth on the woman’s face.
“Very gently. That’s good.” He watched for a few moments. “She had a bag,” he mused. “It must have dropped. Can you take care of her while I go look for it?”
“Yes.” Darla hummed quietly as she gently removed the traces of dust and grime from the visitor’s pale skin. Not that it mattered—their guest was gorgeous.
“I’ll be right back.” David hurried toward the front door, his mind filled with questions.
She was tiny, light as a feather. Her delicate features made him think of fashion magazine covers—thin, high cheekbones, full lips and wide-set eyes. She’d pulled her golden blond hair back and plaited it so it fell down her back, but little wisps had worked free to frame her face in delicate curls. He caught himself speculating what the color of her eyes would turn out to be when those incredible lashes lifted.
She’s obviously needy, and your docket is full.
Boy, did he know that.
A denim backpack lay outside on the step. David bent to pick it up. Well used, even ragged. Like her clothes.
He carried the bag inside, quickening his step. Darla couldn’t be left alone for long. He stepped into the room.
“You’re Sleeping Beauty, aren’t you?” his sister whispered as she slid her cloth over the girl’s thin, ringless fingers. “You need Prince Charming to wake you up.”
David knew what was coming. He tried to stall by taking the woman’s pulse.
“She’ll wake up in a few minutes, sis.”
“No,” Darla said, eyes darkening as her temper flared. “She needs you to kiss her, Davy. That’s how Sleeping Beauty wakes up.”
David sighed. Apparently he’d read her that particular fairy tale one too many times.
“It would be wrong of me to kiss her, Darla,” he said firmly, ignoring the allure of full pink lips. “I don’t know her. She wouldn’t want a strange man to kiss her. Women don’t like that.”
“It’s the only way to get her to wake up.” Darla was growing agitated.
David closed the study door and prayed their visitor would soon rouse. He didn’t want a scene at his friends’ party. And Darla would make one. She’d grown used to getting her own way, and when she didn’t, she tantrumed. That was the main reason she’d gone through so many caregivers in the past six months. None of the helpers he’d hired had been strong enough to stand up to Darla’s iron will.
Like he was?
“Kiss her.” Darla scowled at him, her mouth tight.
“No.” David kept his voice firm. “It’s no good getting angry, Darla. I’m not going to kiss her. This isn’t a fairy tale, and she’s not Sleeping Beauty. She’s real and she might be quite ill. Look how she’s shivering.” He lifted a coverlet from the sofa and laid it over the small form.
“You have to kiss her.” Darla stamped her foot. “I want you to.” She swung out her hand. It connected with a lamp, which shattered against a table.
“Darla! Now you’ve broken Connie’s lamp. Stop this immediately.” David reached for her arm to keep her from wrecking anything else, but Darla was quick. She sidestepped him.
“Kiss her,” she ordered, her face stormy as any thunder cloud.
“Nobody’s going to kiss me,” a soft voice murmured. “And I wish you’d stop yelling. You sound like a spoiled brat.”
Darla glowered at their visitor. Then she grinned. “Sometimes I am,” she admitted shamelessly.
“Why? It’s not very nice to live with people who are spoiled.” The woman shifted the cover over her shoulders then swung her feet to the floor as she sat up. Her face paled a little and her fingers tightened on a sofa cushion.
“Easy,” David murmured. “Not too fast. You fainted. Remember?”
“Unfortunately I do remember. What an entrance.” She tilted her head back to rest it as she studied him.
Her eyes were a deep, vivid green. Their shadowed intensity reminded David of the Amazon forest—he’d once taken a trip there with Wade and their friend Jared. Before his world had become consumed by responsibility.
“My name is David Foster,” he said. “This is my sister, Darla.”
“I’m Susannah Wells. So this isn’t Connie Ladden’s home?” She looked defeated.
“Oh, yes. Connie and Wade Abbot live here,” he assured her.
“They’re having a party,” Darla butted in. She frowned. “Did you come for the party? You don’t have a party dress on. You’re not supposed to come to a party if you don’t dress nice,” she chided.
“Darla.” David frowned at her.
“She’s only saying the truth. You’re not supposed to show up at a party dressed as I am.” Susannah smiled at him tentatively then turned to Darla. “But I didn’t know it was a party, you see. Anyway, I don’t have party dresses.”
“Not even one?” Clearly this mystified Darla. “I have lots.”
“Lucky you.” Susannah frowned. “Maybe I should leave and come back tomorrow.”
“You can’t.” Darla flopped down beside her.
Susannah blinked. “Why can’t I?”
“’Cause
