You can’t stay here. Tell these men to take your things and pack them back in their truck and—”
“Sorry, mister, no can do.” Rock and Archie had come out of the sitting room. Rock handed Mallory a triplicated form. “You’ve checked the number of pieces?”
She nodded.
“Then sign here and we’ll be on our way.”
Impatiently, Jordan said, “I’m telling you, Mallory, I don’t want you living here any more. You can’t—”
Ignoring him, she signed the form.
As Rock ripped off her copy and gave it to her, he grinned at Jordan. “Don’t want her to move back in, buddy? You’re making a big mistake.” He ran an appreciative gaze over Mallory and winked. “This one’s a keeper, mate!”
Sidestepping the boxes, the two men left, leaving the front door wide open behind them.
Jordan looked exasperatedly at Mallory. “You’re going to have to get this stuff out of here—”
“And you’re beginning to sound like a broken record.” Anger made her eyes tawny as a tiger’s. “I told you, I’ve rented this house for the next year and—” She broke off with a “Tsk!” as a rattling noise came from her bedroom.
“That’s Matthew,” she said. “He’s awake—and no wonder, with all the fuss you’ve been making!” She brushed past him. “But you may as well come and meet him now. He’s at his best, first thing in the morning.”
“I’ve told you,” Jordan said grimly, “I don’t want to meet him. What I want is for the two of you to get out of this house right away—”
But she had disappeared into the bedroom.
And next thing, he heard her say in a tender voice, “So you’re awake, are you, sweetheart?” A chuckle. Then, “Oh, Matthew, get your fingers out of my hair…!” A second’s silence, followed by the unmistakable sound of a kiss.
He needed this situation like he needed a hole in his head! Gritting his teeth, Jordan rounded a wicker chair—cursing as he tripped over a vacuum cleaner—and stormed out through the front door. Then with resentment exuding from every pore, he strode down the drive, across the deserted street, and over the salt grass to the beach.
Three miles to the south jutted a rugged cape, with an inn nestled in its sheltering embrace. To the north, the small town followed the curve of the beach to a marina, where he could see yachts bobbing alongside narrow jetties.
He paused for a second, and then headed north.
The realtor’s office was on the town’s main street. He’d walk there now and list the house. That way, when he talked with Ms. Madison again, it would be a fait accompli. The moment the place sold, her lease would automatically be nullified. And it should sell fast, because he would ask a reasonable price. He didn’t need the money. What he needed was to get that woman out of his life, once and for all.
“He’s been gone a couple of hours, Elsa.” Mallory grimaced as she glanced out the sitting room window. “But I can see him coming back now—along the beach. Don’t forget to tell the sisters not to come around today. I’ll give them a call when things settle down.”
“Why has he come to Seashore?” Elsa’s voice came worriedly over the phone line. “He never visited while Janine was alive. Do you think he wants Matthew?”
“Oh, no. He’s made it plain he wants nothing to do with him.”
“Well, that’s good!”
“Mmm.” Mallory rubbed a hand over her nape. “But I feel uneasy. He’s been acting so strangely. Why would he think he had the right to order me to send my stuff back?”
“In my humble opinion, the man’s a control freak. Look how he tried to run Janine’s life! Now she’s gone, he wants to run yours too. But I recall Janine saying her brother hated small towns, so I don’t imagine he’ll hang around.”
Mallory’s nerves tightened as she watched Jordan cross the street, his lean energetic frame set off to perfection in a white T-shirt and taupe shorts. His beard gave him a rakish appearance and as she took in his black hair and rugged features, she had to admit he was an eye-catching sight. But he certainly was not her type! She liked men who were kind and compassionate; strong yet tender—
“Mallory?” Elsa’s voice broke into her musings. “Are you still there?”
“Mm? Oh…yes, Elsa, but I have to go now.”
“Good luck, dear. Let me know what happens.”
Mallory put down the phone and turning from the window, she scooped up Matthew, who was on his stomach, worming his way over the carpet. Slipping his blue T-shirt into his pants, she tucked him into the crook of one arm.
“You’re the most beautiful baby in the world.” She kissed his brow and inhaled the sweet scent of his skin. “And I want you to be a good boy when you meet your uncle. I know he doesn’t want to see you, but it wouldn’t be right to let him leave town without at least saying hello. He’s a bit of an ogre. Do you think you’re up to it?”
“Goo,” he gurgled. And tried to reach her topknot.
She laughed softly and arched her head back. “Oh, you just love to get your fingers into my hair, don’t you!” As she spoke, she heard steps crunching up the drive. And her pulse quickened when she heard Jordan come into the house.
“Mallory!” His deep voice reverberated from the front hall. The voice of a drill sergeant! “Where are you?”
With a fingertip, she tidied a wisp of Matthew’s hair. “Okay, sweetie,” she whispered, “let’s get this over with.”
Bracing herself, she walked out to the hall.
Jordan Caine was standing amid her belongings, with his back to her.
“I’m here,” she said.
As he turned, he held out a long white envelope. “I want you to read this—” He broke off when he saw the baby, and his brow lowered in a dark frown. “What’s going on?”
“I know you don’t want anything to do with Matthew, but it’s not going to kill you to say hi!”
Jordan stared at the baby wriggling in her arms, the infant’s gaze glued to her topknot as he endeavoured to reach it. This was Matthew? Well, he’d really screwed up there, hadn’t he! But it surprised him to see the delectable Ms. Madison with a child. She certainly hadn’t looked pregnant at her brother’s wedding…
He recalled Janine telling him that Tom’s sister was thirty-one and single. And he recalled saying irately to Janine, when she told him that unlike him, Mallory was enthusiastic about the upcoming marriage, “Tell that dried-up old spinster to butt out of our lives!”
That was before he’d met her, of course, and when he did meet her, on the wedding day, he’d found out that far from being dried-up, she was lush as a ripe exotic fruit. But not, definitely not, his type. He felt about redheads the way he felt about small
