said. “Claire has already heard about the smoke bomb I set off at St. Vincent’s.”
“I’m the eldest. I should go last.” He poured a cup of coffee, turned and leaned against the counter. “I vote that we tell her about Luke’s gambling career next.”
Claire hadn’t precisely stiffened when Jacob entered the room. It was more subtle than that—a loss of ease, as if she were suddenly conscious of her expression, her body, in a way she hadn’t been before. As if she were intensely conscious of Jacob’s presence.
Interesting, Michael thought.
“Luke is your other brother, right?” she asked Jacob.
He nodded. He looked entirely at ease, but Michael knew better. The hunter had his prey in sight, and didn’t want to spook it. “Technically,” Michael said, “if we go by years rather than maturity level, Luke is my older brother. Not as ancient as the graybeard leering at you now, but—”
“Watch it,” Jacob said lazily. “I can still take you, as long as you don’t try any of those sudden-death tricks the army taught you.”
“Not in my kitchen, you can’t.” Ada pushed her chair back and stood. “Jacob, you sit down instead of perching there like a vulture checking out the remains, and I’ll fix you some pancakes.”
A phone rang. Not the one in the kitchen, but nearby.
“That’s your line, Ada,” Jacob said helpfully, sipping his coffee.
“Don’t you think I know that? But since I’m busy and you’re not, you might offer to get it for me.”
“I’d rather stay here and leer at Ms. McGuire.”
Ada smirked at him. “I guess you would.” She turned and trotted for the hall door, calling over her shoulder, “Claire, you keep these boys from tearing up my kitchen while I’m gone.”
“I hope the two of you aren’t feeling violent this morning,” Claire said as Ada vanished down the hall. “I’d hate to let Ada down.”
“I’m a gentle soul,” Michael assured her. “Unlike my rowdy brother.”
Jacob raised one eyebrow in that cool, mocking way that used to make Michael want to smash him when he was a teenager. Of course, he’d wanted to smash a lot of things back then.
Claire was amused. “Yes, I can see how rowdy Jacob is. A real troublemaker. You’re in the army, Michael?”
“Special Forces. My brothers treat me with much more respect now that I know how to kill a man in thirteen seconds.”
Her eyebrows went up. “At least I can tell when you’re joking. I think.”
“Jacob was born with a poker face. When the doctor slapped his bottom, he didn’t cry—he slapped him back. Then he bought the man’s practice.”
“It was my first buyout,” Jacob said seriously. “The man had excellent labor relations, but he’d dabbled too heavily in futures.”
“That,” Claire said, her lips twitching, “was a joke. A bad one, but definitely a joke.”
Jacob continued to lean against the counter, sipping his coffee and talking casually with his new employee. He didn’t fool Michael for one minute. Jacob had always gone after what he wanted with the single-minded focus of a lion stalking a gazelle—no nerves, no mercy and the great patience that is possible only in the absence of doubt. His big brother wasn’t so much unaware of the chance of failure as he was impervious to it. A lion whose prey escaped didn’t slink off and moan about his failure, or decide he wasn’t really cut out for this hunting business. He went out and found another gazelle.
But had Jacob ever gone on the hunt for a woman—one particular woman? Michael didn’t think so. Maggie had been—well, handy. Not prey.
“If you have any brothers,” Jacob was saying, “you’ll know you can’t believe half of what Michael tells you about me.”
“No brothers or sisters, I’m afraid, though I do have a cousin I’m close to.” Her eyes softened with memory and affection. “We were hell-raisers together, way back when.”
“Were you?” Jacob set his coffee cup down. “I have trouble picturing you raising hell. Raising temperatures, yes.” He smiled slowly, all sorts of suggestions in his eyes. “That, you do very well.”
Her eyebrows lifted in a wonderfully haughty way. “If that’s supposed to be a compliment, please don’t bother.”
“A statement of fact, rather.” He straightened, moving away from the counter. “It’s not eight o’clock yet.”
She glanced at her watch—a pretty, but inexpensive piece, Michael noted. “If you’d like me to get to the office early—”
“No. I was pointing out that we aren’t on the clock yet. If we were, it would be inappropriate for me to tell you how desirable I find you.”
“You’re out of line.”
“Even in these days of political correctness,” Jacob said, “surely a man can indicate his interest in a beautiful woman, as long as he’s willing to accept a refusal. You don’t look like a woman who would have trouble saying no…if that’s what you want to say.”
There was a tiny crease between Claire’s eyebrows. “I’m not. And ‘no’ is definitely the answer.”
She didn’t look as if she believed it would be that simple. Michael knew it wouldn’t. He pushed his chair back, letting it scrape loudly enough to interrupt the staring match the other two were engaged in. “I’d better be going if I don’t want to risk a speeding ticket. Walk with me to my car, Jacob?”
Jacob’s eyes met his. For a moment, Michael thought his big brother would refuse—and he knew why. He grinned.
Jacob sighed. “All right. At least the damned rain has stopped.”
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