than if she managed to sneak in on her own.
But he’d meant what he’d told Kinsey—if he got any inkling that she was up to something ugly, he’d sound the alarm and put a stop to it.
And he’d be careful about what information he did feed her. Nothing that wasn’t public knowledge or on public record.
But what about her claim to be half sister to Beau’s cousins?
As much as Sutter cared for and respected the Camdens of now, as sure as he was that they were all honest, trustworthy, ethical people, he also knew that the generations that came before had bad reputations. Bad reputations that the colonel said they’d earned.
She was open about the fact that she’d been leery of her sister’s marrying into the family at the time. She’d said that the men couldn’t be trusted, that H.J.—the founding father of the Camden empire, GiGi’s father-in-law—had been a modern-day robber baron, and that he’d instilled the same principles in his son and his two grandsons, the fathers of the current generation. That more than a fair share of the Camden fortune had been ruthlessly built on the backs of people who were swindled or hoodwinked or used without conscience.
If that was true, if the earlier Camdens were those kinds of men, was it a big leap to think that Mitchum Camden had cheated on his wife? That he could have had a second, secret family in the wings?
Sutter knew what the colonel would say—that it wouldn’t surprise her.
And to be honest, Kinsey Madison’s appearance also supported the claim. She didn’t look unlike a Camden. She was built like the rest of the Camden women—not too tall, maybe only three or four inches over five feet, and compact with just enough curve to her to make it rough for him not to take notice.
And she had the same coloring they all shared—her hair was as dark and rich a brown as the black coffee in his cup. She wore it longer than any of the Camden females, though—all the way to the middle of her back. Shiny and silky and thick...
And along with the hair, there was her fair skin and blue eyes—those blue eyes especially made it seem likely to him that she was telling the truth. Those eyes that people called the Camden blue eyes—so blue they almost didn’t seem real. Kinsey definitely had those.
She also had one of the most beautiful faces he’d ever seen. With flawless skin and a fine, delicate bone structure, with a perfect nose and lush, begging-to-be-kissed lips.
He’d grown up with the Camden females, tormented them alongside Beau the way he would have tormented sisters of his own, seen them through every awkward stage. So to him Lindie and Livi really were family the same way Jani was. But he recognized that his cousin and her cousins were beautiful women. As for Kinsey...he thought she had them all beat. By a mile.
But yes, she did resemble them.
Of course the likeness could be only a coincidence that she was trying to capitalize on. People could look like other people and not be related to them.
But she had claimed to be willing to do DNA testing. In fact there had been something that sounded like eagerness for it in her voice.
Or maybe he’d been sucked in by her. Maybe because she was such a knockout. He’d actually felt an impact from just sitting across from her—until he’d snapped himself out of it.
Kind of like he needed to do right then.
That just wasn’t how things were going to be around here, he told himself forcefully.
He’d said no fraternizing and he’d meant it. There wasn’t going to be anything personal between them. They would complete the mission—if the mission could be completed—and he’d be off again, far away and forgetting all about her.
But damn, she was hot...
“No fraternizing!” he commanded himself out loud, trying to put her in the same category he would one of his marines.
And failing because everything about her shouted soft and warm and sweet and certainly not marine.
It would probably help once he got the colonel home today. Then he wouldn’t be alone with Kinsey. Kinsey would just do her job, the lines would be clearly drawn and he would keep his distance.
Except that she needed to do his physical therapy.
And he’d agreed to answer questions about the Camdens.
And help her get close to them.
He could already see lines blurring and when it came to distance, there was going to be precious little of that.
But he was a marine, he reminded himself.
He was trained to persevere, to withstand anything he needed to withstand.
Anything.
Even if what he needed to withstand were the most beautiful blue eyes in the world and a beautiful face and hair and body to go with them...
* * *
“It’s entirely up to you, Colonel. Your doctors want you on oxygen at night but if you don’t want to do it, you have that option,” Kinsey said to her new patient.
She’d been at the Knightlingers’ house since late afternoon when Sutter had finally gotten his mother home. Oxygen tanks and equipment had been delivered and set up in the colonel’s bedroom, and Kinsey had done her own intake routine, interviewing, examining, taking the colonel’s full medical history and getting to know her.
Kinsey was not surprised to find that the colonel was obviously accustomed to being in control and in authority, and unwilling to give up any of that control and authority to anyone else.
There was nothing weak about the seventy-six-year-old’s will. She had a strong personality, she was blunt and obstinate and she was obviously dissatisfied at finding herself physically weakened to the point where she was forced to contend with a pacemaker, a regimen of medications and the prescribed nighttime oxygen usage. She clearly did not like feeling fragile or unwell, or being treated as if she was.
But she was fragile and recovering from a heart attack in addition to the procedure to clear four blockages in her heart and a minor surgery to implant the pacemaker.
She was also somewhat vain and with good reason—her face sported only shallow lines and wrinkles that did little to diminish what had no doubt been great beauty in her youth and middle age.
Between her high rank in the marines and those looks, Kinsey was reasonably sure that the colonel was accustomed to always getting her own way. Which told Kinsey that trying to force anything on her was a mistake.
“Here’s my recommendation,” she said. “Give it a week. See if you don’t get used to the feel of the tubing and sleep better and feel more rested in the morning. If none of that happens, then we’ll forget it. I’ll call and have it picked up and taken out of here. The choice is yours. You always have the right to refuse any medical advice or treatment.”
“Yes, I do,” the colonel said, aiming that bit of mulishness at her son, who stood in the doorway watching the interaction between them. Sutter had already tried arguing with her and gotten nowhere.
Then,
