Sammy Steele—she answered her own question. Her beautiful, precious child was in love…with a young man who bore all the charming but unreliable traits of her handsome, laughing father.
How could Caileen protect vulnerable, headstrong Zia from the temptation of a boy who promised the moon and stars, but delivered only heartbreak?
Ah, well, a parent could only do so much without alienating her child. Unfortunately, she’d already crossed that nebulous line. She sighed. When she’d been nineteen and madly in love, no one had told her how difficult it was to be a parent.
Not that she would have listened at that age. She mentally winced, realizing her child was as blindly trusting in the future as she’d once been. How did one learn to choose wisely?
She still wasn’t sure she knew the answer to that question, so how could she expect nineteen-year-old Zia to do better? After all, she was supposed to be the expert on family problems and solutions.
Right. As soon as she found a reliable crystal ball, she’d solve the problems of the world.
Chapter Two
“We passed our first inspection today,” Jeff told the other members of his household that evening. “I think.”
“Ah, the Family Services witch was here,” Jeremy wisely concluded. “Did she arrive on her broomstick?”
Tony and Krista grinned at the eighteen-year-old’s insouciant remarks.
Jeff did, too. “Nah, they use cars nowadays. It’s part of their disguise. She approved of the house.” He directed a glance at Krista. “She especially liked the way it’s decorated. I told her you did most of it.”
Krista, shy about any kind of praise, blushed and immediately concentrated on her task of setting the table.
When dinner was ready, Jeff paused before taking his seat. “Tonight we celebrate two special events. First, we pay homage to Anthony, who has reached the distinguished age of fourteen.”
Jeremy and Krista cheered and clapped.
“And Krista,” Jeff continued, “our own special princess, who will be eleven tomorrow.”
Krista had taken a lot of teasing over the years about being an April Fool’s baby. She’d asked if she could have her birthday dinner when her brother had his. Tony, good-natured and protective, had okayed the idea.
While Jeff and Tony applauded and offered compliments to Krista, Jeremy brought in the cake Jeff had baked and hidden in the pantry until it was time for it to serve as the centerpiece during the meal.
After eating grilled chicken and roasted vegetables, Jeff and Jeremy lit candles and sang the birthday song. Tony and Krista blew out the candles, then Krista cut the cake.
“Oh, I nearly forgot,” Jeff said. His smile belied his words as he removed two boxes from behind the sofa and handed them to the birthday honorees.
Jeremy pretended he couldn’t remember where he’d secreted his gifts. He looked behind chairs and in cabinets to no avail.
“In the hall closet,” Krista finally told him, somewhat exasperated by his memory loss.
Jeff hid a grin.
Jeremy snapped his fingers. “That’s right!”
Krista and Tony rolled their eyes, then smothered their laughter behind their hands when their foster cousin returned with two packages wrapped in brown paper and tied with string.
“I couldn’t find the gift paper,” he explained.
“It’s stored in your closet,” Jeff said.
“Well, no wonder I couldn’t find it. I never look in the closet.”
That brought more smothered chortles from the younger two. Jeff experienced a return of the odd emotion from earlier in the day, the feeling that they had turned a corner and all would be well with them. If the Family Services people would leave them in peace.
While the kids opened their gifts—a mobile DVD/CD player with headphones from Jeff and three DVDs featuring current music idols from Jeremy for Krista, for Tony, the new sneakers he’d wanted, plus a pedometer to measure his track workouts from Jeremy and books for both of them—Jeff analyzed the visit from Caileen Peters.
Something about her had haunted the remainder of his afternoon. From the moment she’d arrived, he’d noticed things about her.
For instance, she’d liked the flowers he and the kids had planted. She’d been very complimentary of the house and the kids’ bedrooms. That had been a relief.
On a different level, he’d noticed the way she moved, the way she’d inhaled the spring air while she’d admired the garden. He’d liked her calm manner and her smile.
And her hair. The way it gleamed with golden highlights in the sun, like sparks from metal when he was welding. The way the breeze had caused the strands to lift and dance over each other. The way she’d brushed it away from her mouth.
Her lips. Soft-looking. Unintentionally kissable.
The fullness of her breasts that the stern business attire hadn’t been able to hide.
He hadn’t had time to notice a woman in months, maybe years. After a long bout with pain and physical therapy and adjusting to the prosthetic foot, he’d retired from the army with his twenty years in. The pension, plus the disability pay, had helped finance the start of his business.
Next, the three youngsters had moved in with him for six months before the younger two had been taken away. Four months later, all three had disappeared.
The caseworker had given him a lot of grief over that, as if he’d been the one who’d put them in that miserable excuse of a foster home.
That brought his thoughts back to Caileen Peters. At least she didn’t seem to be an ogre like the other woman had been. She’d seemed genuine in her concern for the children.
An unexpected stirring in his blood startled him. Man, he must be getting desperate if he was hung up on a damn social worker!
Krista came to him, interrupting the ridiculous ideas running through his head. She kissed him on the cheek in her sweet, shy manner. “Thank you for the present, Uncle Jeff.”
“Wow, I must be a prince,” he said, clutching his chest. “I just got kissed by a princess.”
“Sorry, Uncle,” Jeremy wisecracked. “Go look in the mirror. You’re still a frog.”
Krista scowled. “He is not a frog! He’s the most wonderful person in all the world!”
“The princess has spoken,” Jeff told his smart-mouth nephew, “and you, Sir Lout, may clean up the dishes.”
“The Knights of the Round Table didn’t do dishes,” Jeremy grumbled, then chuckled as he gathered the used plates. The other two helped.
Jeff crossed his prosthetic foot over his right leg and
