the unseasonable late May heat. It wasn’t stylish, but at least it wasn’t as bad as her clothes used to be. Perhaps she ought to do something about the way she dressed. Yet as soon as the thought formed, she pushed it away. It felt too much like hoping to catch Luke’s attention, though they weren’t likely to meet again. Besides, she wasn’t the kind of woman that a man like Luke wanted. His kind of woman was beautiful and sophisticated and sexually confident, while she was anything but those things.
“I’m sorry, Nicki,” Sherrie said. “I shouldn’t have interrupted, but it was just like hearing you guys fight in the old days.”
“That’s all right.” Nicki smiled. She’d enjoyed visiting with Sherrie when they were kids, though Nicki’s father hadn’t wanted her to be friends with anyone, saying it would distract her from schoolwork. But Sherrie had been nice, when her brother wasn’t, and they’d often gone down to the hospital cafeteria to talk. “I’m sorry about your grandfather. I admire him so much. Is there anything I can do to help?”
It was an offer she meant with all her heart. John McCade had inspired her to pursue a career different from what her authoritarian father wanted. The professor could never know how much his warmth and small kindnesses had meant to a lonely girl who’d never felt as if she belonged.
“Well, we—”
“No,” Luke interjected quickly. “We don’t need any help.”
Both women ignored him.
“Anything you could do would be wonderful,” Sherrie said. “It’s been tough trying to keep things together here. What brings you over today?”
“I’m returning a painting Professor McCade accidentally sold to me at a yard sale,” Nicki explained. “I teach art history at the college, but I also do appraisal work for several museums. So, when I discovered it was such a fine piece, I couldn’t possibly keep it.” She shot a look at Luke, daring him to say something sarcastic.
“This is Great-grandmother Helena,” Sherrie said, examining the portrait. She gave her brother a worried look. “We’ll have to have everything in the house inventoried. We have no idea how valuable Granddad’s collection might be. At the very least it should be insured until we decide what to do.”
Luke nodded. “I’ll look into it.”
Sherrie brightened. “Maybe Nicki could inventory the collection for us. She’d be perfect for the job.”
“Uh…no, Sherrie. That is, we couldn’t possibly impose.”
Nicki lifted her chin. “I did offer to help,” she said stiffly, at the same time wishing desperately that it was Sherrie who was staying in Divine, instead of Luke.
“Why?” he asked with characteristic bluntness. “You don’t owe us anything.”
“I don’t owe you anything, that’s for sure,” Nicki snapped. “But Professor McCade is different. He’s…well…I became interested in art when he started coming to the high school as a guest lecturer. Of course, in the beginning I enjoyed it because that kind of thing drove my father crazy. That is, I started acting interested because it drove him nuts. He wanted me to be a scientist or something else he considered really impressive.”
Luke stared at her.
“Um, that isn’t my point,” Nicki muttered. Her brain had short-circuited. Something about Luke’s dark hair and eyes and long, powerful body had a chemical effect on her. Back in school she used to feel like a shrimp next to him—a yellow-topped pixie in bad clothes and an even worse haircut. Her entire childhood had been one bad-hair day.
“What is the point?” he asked impatiently.
“Professor McCade always seemed so happy and I thought it was because he was so passionate about art. Of course, now I know it was mostly because he loved his wife so much and they had such a great marr—”
“Nicki. Please get to the point.” He crossed his arms over his chest and gave her a stern look.
“Your grandfather inspired me,” she said. “I told my father I was taking an evening math course at the college under a program for advanced students, but I was really taking one of Professor McCade’s art history classes. I know I shouldn’t have lied….” Her voice trailed and she blushed again.
Luke watched, still fascinated by the way color spread across Nicki’s cheeks. He couldn’t imagine the women he knew in Chicago getting embarrassed by anything, much less the memory of a harmless white lie they’d told in high school. For that matter, he couldn’t imagine any grown woman blushing. Maybe it was a trick of Nicki’s fair Scandinavian skin.
“Well, anyway,” she said, the pink of her blush deepening, “it was because of Professor McCade that I went backpacking through Europe and saw such wonderful paintings and architecture in Italy and other places. He probably doesn’t know it, but he changed my life.”
Luke sighed, understanding a little better. Someone like Nicki would never keep something valuable she hadn’t paid full price for, not when it belonged to someone she admired so much.
His world didn’t allow for Nicki’s brand of idealism. And he could never have returned to Divine to live, the way she’d done. After graduation all he’d wanted was to prove to the town he wasn’t a loser…that he wasn’t like those guys who became big and important in high school, then turned into bullies on the local police force as they tried to relive “the old days.”
He even felt like a bully now for taunting Nicki over the past. It was hell coming home, especially with old feelings sitting around like land mines waiting to explode. You thought you were a responsible adult and then bam, you reverted to acting like a two-year-old.
Obviously, having her around wasn’t a good idea. He’d been trying to manage his business long distance, while at the same time caring for his grandfather, and didn’t have time for distractions. Especially distractions like Nicki. She might be annoying, but she was also cute, smart and sexy.
Sexy?
He frowned.
That was odd.
How he could think Nicki was sexy when she was wearing a shapeless dress and had her obstinate nose up in the air was beyond him. But there was something different about her—a freshness that was undeniably appealing. The women in his circles seemed perpetually bored with life.
“I really don’t think it would work out,” he said.
“Of course it would work.” Sherrie sounded exasperated. “If Nicki is willing to tackle the job, then we’d have someone who we know is honest and competent.” Then she gave Nicki a worried look. “Except you’d have to go into the attic. Granddad put a lot of stuff up there after Grams died, and I don’t know how many spiders and mice might be lurking in the shadows.”
Nicki restrained a shudder. Mice didn’t bother her, but she could imagine what pragmatic Luke would say if he knew how much she disliked anything with more than four legs.
“N-no problem,” Nicki said quietly and less firmly than she would have liked.
Luke shook his head. “No, Sherrie.”
“Yes.”
Brother
