“You probably wouldn’t tell me even if you did know,” Jamie stated flatly. “There’s something you’re not saying. Just come out with it, please.”
“All right,” he said in a beleaguered tone. “My brother has a habit of…attracting attention. Sometimes it’s the family name, family wealth, whatever—”
He didn’t need to spell it out. Jamie thumped her glass down on the poolside table. She stood, pushing her chair back so quickly it almost toppled over. “I understand,” she said tightly. “You think I’m a—a gold digger. That’s the term, isn’t it? Let me tell you the truth. I don’t give a damn about your family money, your family position, whatever. I just want your blasted brother to face me and tell me what’s going on. And then I can tell him to go to…go to—” She couldn’t finish. Blinded by foolish tears, she turned and began striding away. Her dignity wasn’t helped when she stubbed her toe on a stone planter full of begonias.
Eric Sinclair came to the rescue again. He followed her, took hold of her arm and steered her back to one of the patio chairs. She grabbed a napkin from the table and impatiently swiped at her eyes. Eric stood in front of her, arms folded, looking more formidable than ever.
“I haven’t accused you of anything, Ms. Williams,” he said in a carefully expressionless voice. “Obviously you’re upset. My brother has that effect on women, too.”
She glared at him. “Shawn loves me. In spite of everything—I’m sure of that much. And that’s why I’m really here.”
Eric gave her a long, considering look. “You actually sound like you mean it. Maybe Shawn’s done it this time.”
“Done what?” she asked irritably.
He didn’t answer her question, merely went on looking at her with a distracted frown. He gave the clear impression that he had other matters on his mind and she was an unwelcome nuisance. At last, though, he gave a shrug.
“There isn’t another ferry until tomorrow at nine. I suppose you’ll have to stay here for the night, get yourself sorted out.”
She was used to being in control of her life, not someone who needed sorting out. “I’ve already registered at the hotel by the pier,” she said stiffly.
He gave just a hint of a mirthless smile. “It’s optimistic to call the Sand Castle a hotel. No…you’ll stay here. Mrs. Braddock will take you to one of the guest rooms.” He’d scarcely glanced toward the house when a sixtyish woman popped out a side door. She wore her graying hair in a ponytail, giving her a youthful appearance in spite of the fine lines etched into her face. Stepping closer, she treated Jamie to a frank perusal.
“You could do with a snack and then a rest before dinner,” she pronounced.
It sounded like exactly what Jamie needed, but she didn’t want to be managed—not by Eric Sinclair and not by this woman.
“I’ll be fine at the hotel,” she said. “My luggage is there already—”
“We’ll see that it’s delivered here,” said Mrs. Braddock. “You don’t want to stay at the Sand Castle.”
Eric almost gave a genuine smile this time. “Resistance is useless. She’s been running this family for years.”
“Someone has to,” the woman said crisply. She turned back to Jamie. “Come along, dear. I’ve made a blueberry pie.”
The prospect of having a piece of that pie weakened Jamie’s resolve—she hadn’t eaten all day. But she stayed where she was, watching Eric Sinclair. He sat down at the table, unsnapped an expensive but clearly well-used briefcase and took out some files. He immersed himself in them, seeming to have dismissed her entirely.
The incongruity of the scene was too much. A man who could devote himself to business papers when the shimmering turquoise water of the pool beckoned from only a few yards away. Not to mention all the rest of it. The engagingly rustic house and the hills forested with pine, sweeping down to Puget Sound. Breathtaking. Yet there he sat, ignoring this gorgeous summer day as effectively as he ignored her. So unlike his brother Shawn, who took advantage of every opportunity to indulge…
“This way, miss,” said Mrs. Braddock firmly. And Jamie, against her better judgment, ended up following.
SOME THINGS ARE WORTH the fight.
Those words wouldn’t leave Eric in peace. Cursing under his breath, he tossed yet another report on the table. He’d been staring at these same numbers for fifteen minutes. Leaning back in his chair, he rubbed the kink in his neck. Shawn’s latest escapade was already proving too much of a distraction.
Jamie Williams. Beautiful, passionate and angry. A potent combination.
Eric cursed again. It had been quite a while since he’d felt this distracted by a woman. Certain things tended to leave you numb: your wife announcing that she was going to leave you. Announcing that all along it had been your brother she’d wanted—and if she couldn’t have him, see you later.
Eric stood, pacing in front of the pool. Surely he’d learned by now. Any woman connected to Shawn was strictly off-limits.
So why had he given in to that impulse and installed Jamie Williams in the house?
“I’m ready.”
Eric turned at the sound of his daughter’s voice. Seven-year-old Kaitlin hovered by the door, clutching a towel under her chin. She’d armed herself with all the necessary accoutrements: bathing suit, swim fins, snorkel. Every weapon possible to belie the fact that she was frightened of water.
Eric felt something twist inside him. It seemed impossible that you could love a daughter this much and still not know how to reach her.
An all-too-familiar guilt surfaced. He’d forgotten their appointment. That was how Kaitlin had phrased it—she’d requested an “appointment” with him, as if she were a business client instead of his child. And it had slipped his mind entirely.
“Hey there, sweet pea.” Even as he spoke he knew his tone was too forced, too jocular. “Just have to change.”
Kaitlin stared at him solemnly. There was no accusation in her gaze, just a somber recognition. Clearly she knew that he’d forgotten about their swimming lesson.
For the first few years of her life he’d been far too busy to be a good father. After the divorce, he’d vowed all that would change.
“I’ll be right back,” he said. “Mrs. Braddock will stay with you.” Not that it was strictly necessary. Kaitlin’s fear of the water would keep her safely away from the pool. Mrs. Braddock, however, appeared like a genie from the greenhouse, ponytail swishing. She was always available. Perhaps too available, Eric thought wryly. She’d done more to raise him and Shawn than their parents ever had.
He went inside and jogged up the stairs to the second story. Moving down the hall, he passed a half-open door. Something made him slow down and turn back. He stood at the door, gazing inside one of the guest rooms.
Jamie Williams lay on the bed, fast asleep. In this light he could see the freckles scattered lightly across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. Her red hair fanned against the pillow.
