Sizzling
Susan Mallery

www.millsandboon.co.uk

SUSAN MALLERY is the New York Times bestselling author of over one hundred romances and she has yet to run out of ideas! Always reader favourites, her books have appeared on the USA Today bestseller list and, of course, the New York Times list. She recently took home the prestigious National Reader’s Choice Award. As her degree in accounting wasn’t very helpful in the writing department, Susan earned a Master’s in Writing Popular Fiction.

Susan makes her home in the Pacific Northwest where, rumour has it, all that rain helps with creativity. Susan is married to a fabulous hero-like husband and has a six-pound toy poodle…who is possibly the cutest dog on the planet.

Visit her website at www.SusanMallery.com

Also by Susan Mallery

DELICIOUS

IRRESISTIBLE

Coming soon, in September 2010:

TEMPTING

Chapter One

UNTIL 6:45 ON THAT Thursday morning, women had always loved Reid Buchanan.

They’d started leaving notes in his locker long before he’d figured out the opposite sex could be anything but annoying. During his sophomore year of high school, his hormones had kicked in and he’d become aware of all the possibilities. Over spring break of that year, Misty O’Connell, a senior, seduced him in her parents’ basement on a rainy Seattle afternoon, during an MTV Real World marathon.

He’d adored women from that moment on and they had returned his affection. Until today, when he casually opened the morning paper to see his picture next to an article with the headline: Fame, absolutely. Fortune, you bet. But good in bed? Not so much.

Reid nearly spit out his coffee as he jerked to his feet and stared at the page. He blinked, then rubbed his eyes and read the headline again.

Not good in bed? NOT GOOD IN BED?

“She’s crazy,” he muttered, knowing the author had to be a woman he’d dated and dumped. This was about revenge. About getting back at him by humiliating him in public. Because he was good in bed, dammit. Better than good.

He made women scream on a regular basis. They clawed his back—he had the scars to prove it. They stole into his hotel room at night when he was on the road, they begged, they followed him home and offered him anything if he would just sleep with them again.

He was better than good, he was a god!

He was also completely and totally screwed, he thought as he sank back into his chair and scanned the article. Sure enough, the author had gone out with him. It had been one night of what she described as nearly charming conversation, almost funny stories from his past and a so-so couple of hours naked. It was all couched in “don’t sue me” language. Things like “Just one reporter’s opinion” and “Maybe it’s just me, but…”

She’d also claimed he regularly blew off charity events and kids in need—neither of which was true. He couldn’t blow off what he never agreed to do. And that was his standard rule—not to get personally involved in anything, including benefits.

He studied the name of the reporter, but it meant nothing. Not even a whisper of a memory. There wasn’t a picture, so he grabbed his laptop and went online to the paper’s Web site. Under the bio section he found a photo.

He studied the average-looking brunette and had a vague recollection of something. Okay, yeah, so maybe he’d slept with her, but just because he couldn’t remember what had happened didn’t mean it hadn’t been incredible.

But along with the fuzzy memories was the idea that he’d gone out with her during the playoffs, when his former team had been fighting for a chance to make the World Series and he’d been back in Seattle, in his first year of retirement. He’d been bitter and angry about being out of the game. He might also have been drunk.

“I was thinking about baseball instead of her. So sue me,” he muttered as he read the article again.

Deep, soul-shriveling embarrassment chilled him. Instead of calling him a bastard to all of her friends, this woman had chosen to humiliate him in public. How the hell was he supposed to fight back? In the courts? He’d been around long enough to know he didn’t have a case, and even if he did, how was he supposed to win? Parade a bunch of women around who would swear he made the earth move just by kissing them?

While he kind of liked that idea, he knew it wouldn’t make a difference. He’d been a famous baseball player once, and there was nothing the public liked more than to see the mighty fall.

His friends would read this. His family would read this. Everyone he knew in Seattle would read it. He could only imagine what would happen when he walked into his restaurant, the Downtown Sports Bar today.

At least it was local, he thought grimly. Contained. He wouldn’t have to deal with hearing from his old baseball buddies.

The phone rang. He grabbed it.

“Hello?”

“Mr. Buchanan? Reid? Hi. I’m a producer here at Access Hollywood. I was wondering if you’d like to make a comment on the article in the Seattle paper this morning. The one about—”

“I know what it’s about,” he growled.

“Oh, good.” The young woman on the other end of the phone giggled. “How about an interview? I could have a crew there this morning. I’m sure you want to tell your side of things.”

He hung up with a curse. Access Hollywood? Already?

The phone rang again. He pulled the plug and thought about throwing it against the wall, but the damn phone wasn’t responsible for this disaster.

His cell rang. He hesitated before picking it up. The caller ID showed a familiar number. A friend from Atlanta. He exhaled with relief. Okay, this call he could take.

“Hey, Tommy. How’s it going?”

“Reid, buddy. Have you seen it? The article? It’s everywhere. Total bummer. And for the record, dude—too much information.”

IF LORI JOHNSTON HAD believed in reincarnation, she would have wondered if she’d been a general, or some other kind of tactical expert in one of her past lives. There was nothing she liked more than taking a few unrelated elements, mixing them together and creating the perfect solution to a problem.

This morning she had to deal with hospital equipment arriving the day after it was supposed to and a catering service delivery with every single entrée wrong. In her free time, she had her new patient to meet and safely deliver home, assuming the ambulance driver wasn’t late. Where other people would be screaming and making threats, Lori felt energized. She would meet this challenge as she met all others and she would be victorious.

The delivery men finished assembling the state-of-the-art hospital bed and stepped back for her inspection. She stretched out on the mattress to check for bumps and low spots. What might just be annoying to someone healthy could be impossible to endure when one had a broken hip.

When the mattress passed inspection, she worked the controls.

“There’s a squeak when I raise the bed,” she said. “Can you fix that?”

The men shared an exasperated glance, but she didn’t care. Trying to get comfortable while in pain was bad enough, but an annoying noise could make things worse.

Next she checked out the bedside table on wheels, which was fine, as were the wheelchair and the walker.

While the workmen dealt with the squeak, Lori hurried into the massive kitchen where the catering staff sorted through the meals they’d brought.

“The chili?” a woman in a white uniform asked.

“Has to go.” Lori pointed to the list she’d posted on the refrigerator. “This is a woman in her seventies. She’s had a heart attack and surgery on a broken hip. She’s on medication. I said tasty, but not spicy. We want to encourage her to eat, but she may still have stomach issues from all the medication. She doesn’t need to lose weight, so that’s not a problem. Healthy, tempting dishes. Not chili, not sushi, nothing fancy.”

She’d been so specific on the phone, too, she thought with minor exasperation.

Still, she would prevail and when the details were handled, she would stop at Dilettante Chocolates for a little something. Chocolate always brightened her day.

“You could beat them. That would get their attention.”

That voice. Lori didn’t have to turn around to know who was standing in the doorway of the kitchen. They’d only met once, at her interview. During the twenty-minute session, she discovered it was possible to be desperately attracted to someone she despised. Everything about him was burned into her brain, including the sound of his voice. For a moment, it made her consider a lobotomy.

She braced herself for the impact of the dark, knowing eyes, the handsome-but-just-shy-of-too-handsome face and the casual slouch that should have annoyed the heck out of her, but instead made her want to melt like a twelve-year-old at a Jesse McCartney concert.

Reid Buchanan was everything she disliked in a man. He’d always had it easy, so nothing had value. Women threw themselves at him. He’d had a brilliant career playing baseball, although she’d never followed sports and didn’t know any details. And he’d never once in his entire life bothered with a woman as ordinary as her.

“Don’t you have something better to do than just show up and annoy me?” she asked as she turned toward him.

Her reaction to his physical presence was immediate. She found it difficult to breathe, let alone think.

“Annoying you is an unexpected bonus,” he said, “but not the reason I’m here. My grandmother’s coming home today.”

“I know that. I arranged it.”

“I thought I’d stop by to visit her.”

“I’m sure knowing you stopped by four hours before she was due home will brighten her day so much that the healing process will be cut in half.”

She pushed past him, ignoring the quick brush of her arm against his and the humiliating burst of heat that ignited inside her. She was pathetic. No, she was worse than pathetic—one day she would grow enough to achieve pathetic and that would be a victory.

“She won’t be here until this afternoon?” he asked as he followed her back into the library.

“Unfortunately, no. But it was thrilling to see you. So sorry you can’t stay.”

He leaned against the door frame. He did that a lot. He must know how good he looked doing it, Lori thought grimly. No doubt he practiced at home.

She knew Reid was shallow and selfish and only interested in women as perfect as himself, so why was she attracted to him? She was intelligent. She should know better. And she did…in her head. It was the rest of her that was the problem.

She was a total and complete cliché—a smart, average-looking woman pining after the unobtainable. The bookstores probably contained an entire shelf of self-help books dedicated to her condition. If she believed in self-help books, she could go get herself healed.

As it was, she was stuck with enduring.

“Don’t you have to go away?” she asked.

“For now, but I’ll be back.”

“I’ll count the hours.”

“You do that.” He stayed where he was, apparently unmovable.

“What?” she asked. “Are we waiting for something?”

He smiled, a slow, sexy smile that caused her heart to actually skip a beat. It was a new low.

“You don’t read the paper, do you?” he asked.

“No. I go running in the morning and I listen to music.”

The smile brightened. “Good. I’ll see you later.”

“You could wait until the evening nurse shows up and visit then. Wouldn’t that be a great plan?”

“But then you’d miss me. Snarling at me is the best part of your day. ‘Bye, Lori.”

And then he was gone.

“YOU’RE GLORIA BUCHANAN’S home-care nurse?” the woman at the main nurses’ station asked. “Oh, honey, you have my sympathy.”

Lori was far more interested in getting her patient home and settled than chatting with the rehab facility staff, but she knew the importance of getting as much information as she could up front. The more she knew, the better plan she could develop.

“Cranky from the pain?” Lori asked as she glanced at the name tag on the other woman’s scrubs top. “That’s fairly typical. As she heals, her mood will improve.”

“I don’t think so. She’s more than cranky,” Vicki said. “Miserable. She complains constantly. She hates her room, the food, her treatments, the staff, the sheets, the temperature, the weather. Let me tell you, we’re all so grateful to get her out of here.” Vicki leaned close. “If you have another job offer, take it. Even if it pays less. Trust me, whatever you’re making, it’s not enough.”

Lori was used to patients who were frustrated by their condition. “I’ll be fine.”

“You’ve already met her?”

“Ah, no.”

It was Lori’s practice to visit her patients before bringing them home. Establishing a good working relationship ahead of time often smoothed the transition process. However both times she’d stopped by the rehab facility to meet Gloria, she’d been told that Mrs. Buchanan was refusing all visitors. Calling ahead to make an appointment hadn’t changed the fact.

Vicki shook her head. “It’s your funeral, hon. You haven’t met anyone like this woman before. But that’s for you to decide. I’ve made copies of her chart. She’s already signed out by the doctor. He was as happy to get rid of her as the rest of us. She had her lawyer call and threaten to pull his license—twice. I hope they’re paying you a lot.”

They were, which was why Lori had taken the job. She was saving up so that she could take a few months off next year. But even without the high pay, she would have kept the job—just to prove everyone wrong about Gloria Buchanan.

Lori took the thick folder. “She’s making progress with her physical therapy?”

“If the screaming is anything to go by.” Vicki sighed. “Yes, she’s healing. We took x-rays of the broken hip yesterday and she looks good. The heart attack was minor, the blockage is gone and with her new medication, she should live another twenty years…God help us.”

Lori knew very little about Gloria personally. Researching her, she’d discovered that the woman had been widowed at a young age. She’d taken a single restaurant and, during a time when women were more likely to either stay home or be school-teachers, created an empire. Gloria’s only son had died in his early thirties and his wife had been killed in a car accident a few years later.

Despite what must have been overwhelming grief, Gloria had taken in her four grandchildren and raised them herself, all the while managing four restaurants. Anyone who had suffered that much had earned the right to be a little difficult.

“I’ll go introduce myself, then,” Lori said. “The ambulance is already here to transport her home. I’ll pick up the paperwork on the way out.”

Vicki nodded. “Sure thing. I’ll be right here. Good luck.”

Lori waved and walked toward Gloria’s room.

The poor woman. Everyone was determined to see her as difficult. But from what Lori had been able to find out, no one in her family wanted anything to do with her. Gloria was injured, lonely and probably feeling frail. Isolation was never good under any circumstances.

She found the right room and knocked once before entering.

“Mrs. Buchanan,” she said as she smiled at the small, white-haired woman lying in the hospital bed. “I’m Lori Johnston. I’ll be your day nurse while you’re convalescing.”

Gloria put down the book she’d been reading and glanced at Lori over her glasses. “I doubt that. Reid was going to be choosing the nurses who would care for me. I’m sure he found the idea hilarious. He only likes beautiful women with large breasts. Unfortunately they have IQs smaller than their waist. You’re neither attractive nor well-endowed. You have the wrong room.”

Lori opened her mouth, then closed it. She was too surprised to be insulted, which was probably a good thing. “I don’t doubt your grandson’s taste in women. In fact it fits everything I already know about him. I may not be his ideal, but I’m still your nurse. At least during the day. You’ll have an evening and a night nurse.”

“You’re not anyone I want to work with.”

“How do you know?”

“I have a sense about people. I don’t like the look of you. Go away.”

Now this was a level of crabby Lori could relate to. She smiled as she crossed the room to the bed. “Here’s the thing. I have an ambulance waiting right outside. There are a couple of burly guys who are going to drive you home. At your house, there’s a bed waiting downstairs, food and privacy you never get in a place like this. Why don’t you wait until we’re there before firing me?”

“You’re humoring me. I loathe that.”

“I’m not thrilled about being insulted, but I’m going to go with it. What about you?”

Gloria narrowed her gaze. “You’re not one of those perpetually cheerful people, are you?”

“No. I’m sarcastic and demanding.”

“Have you had sex with my grandson?”

Lori laughed. In her dreams, perhaps, but never in real life. After all, she was neither attractive nor well-endowed. Talk about being dismissed. “There hasn’t been time. Is it a requirement?”

Gloria sighed. “The man has no Off switch. If it has a vagina, he’s probably been in it.”

“Not mine. I’ll agree he’s shallow but pretty. Isn’t that always the way? So are you packed?”

Gloria’s expression tightened. “I do not pack my own belongings. Even if I did, my condition would prevent any such activity.”

So the momentary rapport was gone. Well, it had been good while it lasted.

“No problem. I’ll collect everything. Do you have a suitcase? If not, I’m sure there are some shopping bags in the staff’s lunch room.”

The older woman practically crackled with outrage. “You will not put anything of mine in a shopping bag. Do you know who I am?”

Lori was careful to keep her back to her patient as she pulled a suitcase out of the closet by the bathroom. Gloria knowing she found this conversation kind of funny wouldn’t help things. “Sure. You’re Gloria Buchanan. Speaking of which, I think I’m going to call you Gloria. Mrs. Buchanan is so formal and we’re going to be getting really close.”

“Not after I have you fired.”

Lori set the suitcase on the only chair in the room and opened it. “You don’t want to fire me, Gloria. I’m really good at my job. I have experience with both heart and orthopedic patients. I’m tough enough to bully you into doing everything you should be doing. That’s going to get you on your feet faster. Because here’s the thing. Old ladies who break their hips have one of two outcomes. They get better or they die. My patients don’t die.”

Gloria glared at her. “You’re not a very nice person.”

“Neither are you.”

Gloria stiffened. “How dare you? I am incredibly polite and thoughtful.”

“Really? Want to hear what the staff here has to say about you?”

“They’re a group of incompetent fools. Everything about this place is substandard.”

“Then you’re going to love my standards.” She leaned close and lowered her voice. “I’m a real bitch about getting it right. You should respect that.”

“You will not swear in my presence, young woman. I won’t tolerate it.”

“Fair enough. I won’t swear and you won’t act annoying.”

“I’m never annoying.”

“Should we take a vote of your peers?”

“I have no peers.”

Which, Lori remembered a little too late, was sadly correct. From what Reid had told her when he’d hired her, Gloria didn’t have any friends at all and her grandchildren rarely had anything to do with her. No wonder she was so difficult. It was heartbreaking.

Lori finished packing Gloria’s belongings. There had been a few nightgowns, some undergarments, the clothes she’d been wearing when they’d brought her in, two books and a few cosmetics. Nothing else. No flowers, no get-well teddy bear, nothing personal. Nothing from family.

It was one thing if the elderly were alone, Lori thought, getting really annoyed with the Buchanan grandchildren. But when there was plenty of family hanging around and they were all just too busy with their own precious lives, it really pissed her off.

Lori pushed aside her feelings and moved next to the bed.

“So here’s the plan,” she said, lightly touching Gloria’s arm. Physical contact helped with healing. “I’m going to get the nurse to give you something for the pain. The trip home is going to jar you and that will hurt. The stuff she’s using is pretty strong, so expect to be a little out of it for a while.”

Gloria’s eyes narrowed as she jerked her hand free of Lori’s touch. “There is no need to speak to me as if I’m eight. I’m completely capable of understanding without a lengthy and moronic explanation. Fine. Get the nurse in here. She’ll be delighted to indulge her sadomasochistic tendencies on my person one last time.”

“Okay, then. Be right back.”

Lori walked to the nurses’ station where Vicki was ready. “We’re good to go. If you want to give her the shot, we’ll head out.”

Vicki stepped from around the counter. “So? What did you think?”

“I like her.”

Vicki stopped in midstride and stared. “You’re kidding. You like her? Gloria Buchanan? She’s mean.”

“She’s alone and in pain and scared.”

“You’re giving her way too much credit, but, hey, if it gets her gone, I’m all for it.”

REID SAT in his houseboat and wished he’d bought a condo in a security building instead. Here, on the water, he was too exposed, too accessible. He’d closed all the blinds and pulled all the shades, but that hadn’t kept the press away, dammit. They were everywhere—setting up cameras on his dock, crawling up to his balcony. Speedboats kept zipping by outside.

They wanted a story and they wanted it now. No one cared that he was totally humiliated. His manager had told him the interest would die down in a few days and to just lay low until then. Great advice, but where was Reid supposed to go? This was his town. Everyone in Seattle knew who he was.

His cell phone rang. He glanced at the screen before answering it, then frowned when he saw his grandmother’s name and number. If she’d read the morning paper, he was going to be verbally beaten and left for dead.

“Yes?” he said, his voice clipped.

“It’s Lori Johnston. Your grandmother’s day nurse. Your grandmother is leaving the rehab facility now and should be home within the hour.”

He grinned. “Let me guess. You want me to stop by and cheer her up.” So much for Miss Priss’s disdain. She needed him. Eventually they all did.

“Not exactly. She’s been given some medication and is pretty out of it.”

“You’re drugging my grandmother?” he asked in outrage.

Lori sighed. “My God, don’t be such a girl. Of course I’m not drugging her. I asked the doctor to prescribe some pain medication. In her condition a car ride can be excruciating. Not that you would care.”

He ignored that. “How did you get her phone?”

“I took it from her purse and before you start squealing in protest, I did it because I need to get in touch with you. No one sent the woman flowers or anything. There wasn’t a get-well card or note in her room. I find that astonishing. I’m surprised any of you could bring yourself to actually give her medical care. Why didn’t you just put her on an ice floe and push her out to sea?”

Reid opened his mouth, then closed it. To anyone who didn’t really know Gloria, the lack of attention was pretty horrible.

“She’s not a flower kind of person,” he said at last.

“Is that the best you can do? Claiming an allergy would have been a lot smarter. So you’re the rich baseball player, right?”

“Ex-baseball player. I was a pitcher.”

“Whatever. Order your grandmother some flowers. A lot of flowers. Have them delivered at regular intervals. Do you hear me? Throw in a few stuffed animals. Bears, cats, giraffes, I don’t care. Something to give this poor woman the illusion that her family cares if she lives or dies. If you don’t, you’ll be answering to me and you won’t like that.”

Her concern was misplaced, but he respected her enthusiasm. “You don’t scare me.”

“Not yet, but I will.”

Chapter Two

LORI GOT GLORIA SETTLED at home with a minimum of fuss. Of course, the fact that her patient was practically unconscious really helped things along.

Lori unpacked Gloria’s suitcase, confirmed her physical therapy appointment for the next morning and picked out something light for her evening meal. While the older woman was getting better, she’d lost a little too much weight in the past few weeks. Lori intended to put some meat back on her fashionably thin bones.

She was on her way to look in on her patient when the doorbell rang. She answered it and found two delivery men, each holding several vases of fresh flowers. One had a giant giraffe tucked under his arm.

“Perfect,” she said as she motioned for them to leave the flowers on the floor of the foyer. Lori had already picked out several strategic spots for floral displays in Gloria’s room. “I appreciate the fast service.”

“The guy who ordered these wanted us to ask if you’re satisfied now.”

She grinned. “Tell him not even close.”

The man shrugged, then he and his partner left.

Lori grabbed two of the larger vases and headed for the study. She’d just finished with the last arrangement when Gloria opened her eyes.

“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice surprisingly strong for someone who had, until this second, been zonked on pain medication.

“Putting out flowers. Your grandchildren sent them. Aren’t they beautiful?”

“No. I hate flowers. And I see no reason for my grandchildren to send me anything. They’re far too selfish.”

Lori agreed with that, but kept her smile cheery. “I love the smell. Don’t you?”

“Absolutely not. Cut flowers die quickly and that depresses me. Take them away.”

“Sorry, no.” Unfazed by Gloria’s complaints, Lori made one last trip to grab the giraffe and returned with it.

Gloria actually raised her bed slightly and glared at the stuffed animal. “What is that? It’s awful.”

Lori hugged the cuddly creature. “It’s here to make you smile. I think it’s adorable.”

“You have very low standards.”

“I don’t think so.” She propped up the giraffe in a corner. “Okay, that’s all done. Let’s get you something to eat. You must be starved.”

“I’m not hungry at all. Go away.”

Lori did as she requested, but only went as far as the kitchen. She popped the entrée into the microwave and checked the rest of the tray. Everything seemed to be in place.

After the microwave dinged, she collected the steaming food and carried it back into the study.

Gloria might claim to not want dinner, but she’d raised her bed in anticipation of eating. A good sign.

“Here you go,” Lori said, setting the tray on the table in front of her.

Gloria stared at the food, then pushed at the table. As it was on wheels, it slid away.

“This is disgusting. I will not eat it. Take it away. I’m not hungry.”

Lori put her hands on her hips. Most of her crabby patients at least started out being pleasant. It usually took a couple of days for the anger and fear to come out. She had to respect that Gloria started as she meant to go on.

“You’re too thin,” she said calmly. “There are one of two ways to fix that. You can eat and gain back a couple of pounds, or we can hook you up to a feeding tube. I have to tell you, based on professional observation, you’re going to want to eat. The feeding tube route is pretty unpleasant. However, it’s an option. After all, you’re rich, right? Nothing but the best for you.”

“Then why are you here?”

Lori blinked. Okay—so there was nothing wrong with Gloria’s mental reasoning skills. “I’m the best. And really expensive. You should respect that.”

Gloria looked her up and down, then sniffed. “You’re shabby and poor. I can smell the poverty on you.”

“Is that from personal experience? After all, you started out poor. Wasn’t your first job working as a maid in a hotel?”

Gloria glared at her. “I will not discuss my past with you.”

“Why not? I’m actually interested in how you got from there to here. You were running an empire at a time when most women were afraid to dream that big. You’re a pioneer. I respect that.”

“You think I care about your opinion on anything?”

Lori thought for a second, then smiled. “Yeah, I do. Not enough people respect you, which is their loss.” She pushed the table back over the bed and nudged the tray a tiny bit closer to Gloria. “I picked out the meals for the first few days, but the catering service left a menu. I’m happy to let you look it over and choose your own food. Or if you’d prefer to hire a cook, that’s fine, too.”

Gloria kept her expression neutral, but Lori thought she saw a flash of emotion. She just couldn’t tell which one.

“You’re very free with my money,” Gloria muttered.

Lori laughed, even though she knew the other woman wasn’t trying to be funny. “One of the perks of the job. Do you want me to cut up your chicken?”

Gloria’s gaze narrowed. “Only if you want me to stab you with my fork.”

“I’m pretty spry. You’d have to move quickly.”

“I would be motivated.”

At last—a flash of something very close to humor. A good sign. “Okay—I’ll let you eat in peace. Do you want the television on?” She opened the cabinet doors, exposing the television and DVD player, then left the remote on the bed. “Call if you need anything.”

BY FOUR-THIRTY that afternoon, Lori felt as if she’d been the victim of a hit-and-run. Her momentary breakthrough with Gloria was nothing more than a distant memory once the older woman finished complaining that her bed was too hard, her pillows too soft, that her sheets had an odd smell and that the television buzzed.

“I’ll get a serviceman in here as soon as possible,” Lori said, doing her best to be patient. She also had to keep herself from looking at her watch. This had been the longest afternoon of her life. And to think it had only been a half day with Gloria.

She kept telling herself that Gloria was unhappy for a reason and that things would get better.

A little after five she headed for the kitchen and found a tall, pretty, large-breasted woman unpacking a giant tote bag. Her uniform marked her as a nurse. Her physical description told Lori who had done the hiring.

“Hi,” the woman said, smiling brightly. “I’m Sandy Larson, twilight nurse. Which is a first. Usually I’m the night nurse. On call when it’s dark. Hey, that sounds like the title of a book. Or a porn movie.” Sandy grinned. “Not sure which I’d rather be in. On a good day…”

Lori did her best to greet the woman pleasantly, despite the sudden knot in her stomach. What on earth was wrong with her? So Reid had gone true to type with the other nurse. What did Lori care?

Lori brought Sandy up to speed on Gloria’s care. “She’s tired so she’s a little difficult, but not awful.”

“I can handle her,” Sandy said. “If my patients give me any trouble, I start talking about my favorite soap opera. That usually bores them into falling asleep. It’s why I love the night shift. You day girls work too hard.” She leaned toward Lori. “Gotta love this job, though. Twelve hours of pay for an eight hour shift.”

“It’s great. I’ll just go and tell Gloria goodbye.”

“Sure thing. See you tomorrow.”

Lori nodded and returned to the study. “I’m heading out,” she told Gloria. “I’ll be back in the morning.”

Gloria looked up from the magazine she’d been reading and stared at Lori over her glasses. “I can’t imagine why you would think I would care about your comings and goings. Stay or go. It doesn’t matter the least to me.”

Lori grinned. “I had a good day, too, Gloria. You’re more than welcome.”

REID PARKED his Corvette behind the Downtown Sports Bar and climbed out. He stood staring at the rear door for a full minute, then told himself it wouldn’t be so bad.

Ever since he’d blown out his arm and had to retire from baseball, he’d been working at the family sports bar. “Working” being a loose definition of what he did. In theory he was the general manager. In reality he came and went as he wanted, occasionally worked behind the bar, entertained customers with stories about his baseball career and life and hired the female staff. He’d always thought of the sports bar as a refuge—a place to hang where he was known and admired. Today it was nothing more than a house of shame.

Everyone inside knew him and he was willing to bet his impressive bank account that each one of them had read the morning paper.

“Goddamn it all to hell,” he grumbled, then used his key to let himself in the back door.

Figuring he might as well get it over with as quickly as possible, he bypassed the relative safety of his office and walked into the bar.

Instantly the low rumble of conversation stilled and all eyes focused on him. Reid kept moving.

“Hey, hon,” one of the waitresses called, her mouth twisted in some weird almost-normal smile. “Good to see you.”

He nodded and continued walking through the happy hour crowd.

“Reid!” one guy yelled. “How’s it hanging?”

Reid ignored that, scanned the clusters of patrons and saw two familiar faces in a corner. He headed directly for them.

“Reid.” Maddie, one of the waitresses, grabbed his arm. “She’s full of shit, okay? That night we were together was great. Let me know if you want me to sign a letter or something.”

He nodded at the busty brunette, knowing that they had spent the night in bed and unable to remember anything specific in the blur that was his sexual past.

He hurried over to greet his two brothers and sank gratefully into the chair they’d pulled up for him.

They’d positioned their table just right, tucking his chair next to a display case of sports crap. It meant he wasn’t in anyone’s direct line of sight.

Cal, his older brother, pushed a full mug of beer in his direction. “How you holding up?” he asked.

“How do you think?” Reid took a long swallow. “It’s a little slice of hell.”

Walker, his younger brother, grimaced sympathetically. “Sucks the big one.”

Reid eyed the nachos on the table, but he wasn’t hungry. “The worst part is I don’t even remember her. It was the week my team was in the playoffs. I’m sure I was drunk.” He shook his head. “What does it matter? She wanted revenge and she sure as hell got it. Reporters are everywhere. They’re crawling all over the houseboat.”

“It’s not a defensible position,” Walker told him.

Cal looked at Reid. “So speaks our brother, the former marine.”

“He knows what he’s talking about,” Reid grumbled. “I’ve got to get out of there. I thought about a hotel, but they’ll find me there. Someone on the staff will sell me out.”

“Come stay with Penny and me,” Cal said. “We have room.”

Reid hesitated. Their house was big enough, but Cal and Penny had a new baby. They were focused on other things.

“I appreciate the offer, but I’d be in the way.”

“You wouldn’t,” Cal told him.

Walker shrugged. “You can bunk with me, but it would be on a sofa.”

“Tempting,” Reid said with a grin. “But, no.”

“You could always move in with Gloria,” Cal said. “No one would think to look for you there. Didn’t you say one of her nurses had set up a room for her downstairs?”

“In the study,” Reid said slowly, considering the possibility.

“You would have the whole upstairs,” Walker told him.

“There’s plenty of room,” Reid murmured. His moving in would also annoy the hell out of Lori, and that would be a plus.

A woman walked toward the table. She was tall, built and cover-model gorgeous. She smiled at him.

“Darlin’, I just wanted to let you know that the night we had together was incredible. I still remember everything about it and I’m willing to swear to it. Want my phone number?”

Reid studied her face and realized he had absolutely no recollection of ever having seen her before. What did that say about him?

“I appreciate the offer,” he said. “I’ll let you know if I need a signed statement.”

“You do that. I’m always willing.”

She turned and walked away. He watched her swaying hips and felt absolutely nothing. Given the day he’d had, it would probably be months before he could think about having sex again, and how grim was that?

He leaned back in his chair and looked at his brothers. “That reporter has me by the balls. I can’t sue. There’s no way to win. It would be a circus. I don’t want that. My manager says to lay low and it will blow over.”

“He’s right,” Walker said. “People will get interested in someone else’s life.”

“When?” Reid asked, knowing it couldn’t be soon enough. “I talked to him about the other stuff in the article. Where that bitch of a reporter said I’d blown off kids and charity events. I wouldn’t do that.”

He hadn’t. He hated that kind of stuff, so he made it a point to never accept any kind of invitation where he had to show up and speak. He sent checks…or his manager did.

“Just because some kid sent a letter inviting me to some charity thing doesn’t mean I have to go. But that’s not how the reporter saw it.”

“You have to let it go,” Cal said. “You can’t do anything about it now.”

Reid knew that was the truth, but he hated being painted in asshole colors. “I talked to Seth about the other stuff in the article, that baseball team that went to the state championships. He said that was just a mix-up with the travel agent. I didn’t know anything about it.”

His brothers looked sympathetic, but that wasn’t helping. Maybe because sympathy wasn’t enough. Not when he’d been accused of offering to sponsor a baseball team and send them to their state championships, only to have the travel agent forget to include a return ticket. All those kids and their families had been stranded hundreds of miles from home with no way to get back.

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” he mumbled, knowing in truth, he hadn’t done anything at all. “I told Seth to send me everything. The fan mail, the charity requests. I’m going to read them myself.”

“And then what?” Cal asked.

“Hell if I know. I’ll do something. I have to. It’s one thing for that reporter to say I’m lousy in bed, but it’s another for her to claim I disappoint kids. I’d never do that.”

Not messing up was one of the main reasons he preferred not to get involved at all.

“This sucks,” he said, as he reached for his beer. “My life is at a new low point.”

“Worse than when you blew out your shoulder?” Walker asked.

“No,” Reid said quietly. “Not worse than that.”

Walker shrugged. “Just trying to put things in perspective.”

No, this wasn’t worse, Reid thought, but it was close. A little too close.

REID WAITED until close to ten to drive to his houseboat. He’d borrowed Walker’s SUV so he could load up his stuff and transport it to Gloria’s house. Despite the late hour, there were two photographers waiting on the dock. They snapped pictures of him going into the houseboat and he heard one of them making a call, saying he’d been found. He also caught a suggestion about him taking an Internet class on how to please women.

Twenty minutes later, he’d packed two suitcases and was backing out of his parking space. The tow truck he’d hired pulled behind the photographers’ cars in the guest parking section of the lot, preventing Reid from being followed. The guy would stay there a few more minutes, then leave. All Reid wanted was a clean getaway.

When he reached Gloria’s place, Walker was waiting there to help him unload. They traded car keys and Walker left with the SUV. Reid’s Corvette was already hidden in the garage.

“Hell of a way to live,” he muttered as he walked inside.

He started up the stairs only to stop when he saw a somewhat familiar, tall blonde heading down. She smiled.

“Hey, Reid. How’s it going?”

“Good,” he lied, as he tried to remember where he knew the woman from. Then he focused on the scrub shirt and realized she was one of Gloria’s nurses.

“Sandy,” the woman said when they were on the same step. “Sandy Larson. You interviewed me for the job.”

Right. And her beaming smile said the interview had gone well. He remembered now—Sandy had been eager to sleep with her favorite player. They’d had a hell of a time on his big desk at the Downtown Sports Bar.

“I heard you’re moving in here,” Sandy said.

“Temporarily.”

“Sure. Makes sense.” She touched his arm. “Listen—I had a great afternoon with you, but I wanted to let you know I’m with someone now. It’s exclusive. So I’m not going to be interested in a repeat performance. Please don’t take it personally, okay?”

“Of course not,” he said, careful to keep his expression politely interested.

He couldn’t care less about sleeping with Sandy again, but that wasn’t the point. She should be all over him, because hey, he was Reid Buchanan.

But given how his day had gone, why was he even surprised?

LORI ARRIVED a few minutes early for her shift. She put her jacket and purse in the hall closet and found yet another tall, well-built beauty in the kitchen.

She hated that she instantly felt short and curveless. Even worse was the cause. She refused to let a womanizing, brainless twit of a man ruin her day.

“Hi,” she said cheerfully. “I’m Lori Johnston.”

“Kristie Ellsworth,” the stunning brunette said with a smile. “Gloria slept most of the night and woke up asking for you. I guess you made an impression.”

“Hopefully a good one.”

“I was going to take in her breakfast,” Kristie said.

“I can do that if you want to head out.”

“That would be great.”

Five minutes later Lori walked in with Gloria’s breakfast.

“You’re back,” the older woman said. “How unfortunate.”

“I heard you were asking about me, so don’t pretend you’re not happy to see me.”

“I’m not happy. I was asking in the hopes that you’d quit.”

“No such luck.” She set the tray on the table. “We’re going to have to get you a hobby. Something other than being crabby. Maybe knitting. Everyone’s doing it.”

Gloria ignored that and poked at her pancakes. “I don’t eat breakfast. I’ll have some coffee and nothing else.”

Lori leaned close and lowered her voice. “I have just two words for you, young lady. Feeding tube. Don’t make me get ugly. Eat and be happy.”

“You’re a most annoying person.”

“I’ve heard that. It’s kind of a point of pride with me.”

Gloria stared at her for several seconds, then passed over a section of the newspaper. “Did you read this yesterday?”

“I don’t read the paper.”

“You should. Women should be aware of what’s going on in the world. Which is not the point. Reid has moved in temporarily. Obviously he’s taking advantage of my weakened condition. You’d think he was old enough to clean up his own mess, but apparently not. Now he’s dragged the family name through the mud. He’s a constant disappointment and embarrassment.”

Lori glanced at the headline and blinked. “Good in bed…not so much? That’s kind of cold.”

“Apparently he didn’t please the reporter and she decided to tell the world. It’s disgusting. She’s nothing but a slut, but heaven forbid we should say that.” She tapped the paper. “Read it. Learn from it. My grandson has a way with women. Don’t be one of the idiots who falls for him and then gets her heart broken. I have no patience for stupid women.”

“You’re warning me off,” Lori said, suddenly getting it. She grinned. “You’re worried about me.”

“Go away.”

For once, Lori did as she asked, mostly because she wanted to read the article.

She settled at the kitchen table and spread out the paper, then scanned the first couple of paragraphs and winced. No guy wants to be told he’s not good in bed, especially in public and in print. That had to hurt.

She almost felt sorry for Reid. While she had no sense of his sexual skill, he had to have learned something with all his experience. Didn’t he?

The object of her speculation walked into the kitchen, looking rumpled and exhausted. He’d pulled on jeans and nothing else, his hair was mussed and he needed a shave.

He was fifteen kinds of gorgeous.

Lori watched him as he crossed the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee. His impressive muscles flexed and rippled with each movement. He looked warm and sexy and deep inside her stomach she felt the beginnings of a quiver.

He glanced up and saw her.

“Morning,” he mumbled, then left.

She didn’t exist to him. Never had, never would. Being attracted to him put her so far in the idiot camp that she would never find her way out.

She was an embarrassment to intelligent women everywhere. Worse, there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it.

Chapter Three

LORI PULLED INTO her driveway a little after five. Her neighborhood was light-years away from Gloria’s street of gated mansions, but Lori didn’t mind. She loved everything about her house.

Its two-bedroom, two-bath size suited her perfectly. She loved the details of the Craftsman style, the built-ins, the moldings. She loved that she’d painted every wall herself and had done most of the remodeling without help. She loved the colors, the garden, the porch, the way the house looked solid…and made her feel safe.

She walked inside and breathed in the scent of garlic. “You’re cooking,” she yelled by way of greeting. “You’re not supposed to be cooking.”

Madeline stepped out of the kitchen and grinned. “I don’t believe that was in the contract I signed, but I’ll have to go check. Besides, I’m having a good day. On good days I want to cook.”

Lori studied her sister’s face, searching for lines of fatigue or paleness in her coloring. Neither was there. Instead Madeline looked serenely beautiful, as she always had.

In Lori’s mind, the family gene pool had a killer sense of humor. Lori was average height, Madeline a few inches taller. Lori had inherited awful orange curls that had thankfully faded to a more muted reddish-gold. Madeline had auburn waves. She woke up looking like a 1940s movie star. With a little effort and some mascara, she looked like a goddess. It had taken Lori most of her life, but she’d finally learned not to be bitter.

“How was day two?” Madeline asked. “Gloria still a challenge?”

“She defines the term. This morning she nearly hinted that she liked having me around and then spent the rest of the day insulting me. I have to say there’s nothing wrong with her brain. She’s really good at the one-line put-down.”

Madeline folded her arms across her University of Washington sweatshirt. “You still like her?”

“I do. I know I shouldn’t. There’s a power struggle in our future and I’m going to win, but still, there’s something about her. She’s trying too hard to be a bitch and I can’t figure out why. Is it a defense mechanism? A way of coping? Did she have to be a bitch to get ahead all those years ago and forget to turn it off? One of her grandsons called. This guy named Cal. He wanted to come by and check on her. Gloria wouldn’t take the call and told me to tell him that she would be dead soon and then he could be happy.”

Madeline shook her head. “You didn’t tell him that, did you?”

“No, but it made me wonder.”

“Not every sick person is a saint. Aren’t most of them exactly like they were in their regular life?”

“Yes, in theory. But I just don’t want that to be true in Gloria’s case. I keep thinking something’s there. Maybe it’s because Reid was so insistent that she was awful. When I interviewed for the job, he made her sound like the devil.”

Madeline grinned. “Oh, so we’re back to talking about Reid. You do have him on the brain.”

Lori willed herself not to blush. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She sniffed. “I smell garlic but nothing else. What’s for dinner?”

“Don’t try to change the subject. Admit it. You have a thing for Reid Buchanan. My practical sister has totally fallen for a sports hero.”

“Not exactly fallen,” Lori muttered. “I have a stupid crush on him, okay? It’s chemical, which means it’s not my fault. I react to him. But it doesn’t mean anything. I’ll get over it. I’m smarter than him.”

“Being smart doesn’t have anything to do with it.”

“So my hormones keep telling me.”

“Maybe you should go out with him,” Madeline told her. “Maybe he’s better than you think.”

Madeline was possibly one of the nicest people on the planet. She saw good in everyone and believed in miracles. But Lori had never been a believer, and most people got on her nerves.

In Madeline’s fairy-tale universe, men like Reid Buchanan would absolutely date women like Lori. They would probably find them fascinating. Unfortunately, Lori didn’t live in that universe.

She pushed up her glasses. “I don’t think I’m his type. I get on his nerves. I’m not deferential enough.” All excuses for the real thing—Reid would never see her as a sexual being. She was his grandmother’s nurse. Sort of a living appliance. No matter how much she wanted that to be different, it wasn’t.

“You’re funny and pretty and smart. Of course you’re his type.”

Lori avoided mirrors whenever possible, but she couldn’t escape them. Pretty? Not so much. She was average. Nothing more, nothing less.

“You’re an optimist,” she said. “Sometimes that’s annoying.”

Madeline laughed. “You can’t be mad at me. I made spaghetti with garlic bread.”

Lori’s mouth watered. “A carb fest for dinner?”

“Absolutely. I was in the mood.” Her sister linked arms with her and led her into the kitchen. “While we’re eating, we can strategize about Reid. What you can do to get his attention.”

“I don’t want his attention. He’s not anyone I would ever want to be with.”

It was an old pattern, but one that had always served Lori well. She found it really helpful to put down that which she couldn’t ever have. It made the doing without so much easier.

“I’VE MISSED EVERYTHING about this kitchen,” Penny Buchanan said as she ran her hands across The Waterfronts countertops, then lightly touched the control knobs on the stove. “It’s bigger than I remember. Is that possible?”

Dani Buchanan grinned at her sister-in-law. “No. You’re remembering the kitchen filled with people and now it’s empty.”

“But it will be full soon,” Penny said dreamily. “We’ll be cooking delicious food and it will be like I was never gone.”

She leaned against the counter, then stared at Dani. “Oh, God. Am I a horrible mother for being thrilled to be back at work? I am, aren’t I?”

Dani laughed. “Not at all.”

Penny shook her head. “No. It’s not natural. I shouldn’t have any interests other than the baby. What if Allison knew I loved my work more than her? She would be devastated.”

Dani grabbed Penny by the arm. “Hey, slow down. Take a breath. You’re fine. Loving your work is allowed, even encouraged. You need to be back in the kitchen because being a chef is part of who you are. As for the baby, Allison is incredibly spoiled and totally loved. Just be grateful you love your job.”

“You mean be rational,” Penny said with a slight smile. “Hard to do these days, when I’m living in a sea of hormones. But I’ll try. You’re right. I love Ally, but cooking will always be my passion.”

“See, I think you have a much bigger problem with Cal than with the baby. He’s not going to appreciate knowing he comes second to a bunch of pots and pans.”

Penny’s smile softened. “He knows I love him.”

Dani had liked Penny the first time Penny had married Cal. The second time was even better.

“So you’re back, you’re excited about being back,” Dani said. “This is a good thing.”

Penny eyed her. “I think I can guess why. You want to leave.”

Dani glanced around at the restaurant kitchen. Penny had given her a job when she’d desperately needed to do something with her life, but this wasn’t where she wanted to be in five years, or even five weeks.

“Let’s just say the thrill of sticking it to Gloria has faded,” Dani admitted. “You were great to give me a chance here, but I have to move on.”

“I understand,” Penny told her. “I don’t like it, but I understand. Do you have any idea what you’re going to do?”

“Try to make up for all the time I wasted trying to please Gloria.”

Penny touched her shoulder. “Maybe if you think about it as a growth experience…”

“So far, that’s not working. As mean as Gloria is, I still can’t believe she let me work for her all those years, let me believe I had a chance of moving up in the company, when she was never going to let it happen.”

Dani closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. If she continued to let Gloria upset her, then she continued to let the old bat win.

But it was hard to let it all go—and impossible to forget Gloria’s bombshell. That the reason Dani would never make it in the Buchanan empire was that she, Dani, wasn’t a real Buchanan.

“Look at the bright side,” Penny said, affection obvious in her voice. “You have a great résumé and fabulous letters of recommendation from me and Edouard.”

At the mention of the cook who had been left in charge of the kitchen while Penny had been out on maternity leave, Dani grinned. “Edouard said he wasn’t going to write me a letter of recommendation. He said I hadn’t been deferential enough while he was in charge. That I hadn’t supported his pain.”

“Oh, really? Then perhaps I’ll tell Edouard I’m not feeling ready to come back. I can leave him in charge a little longer.”

As Edouard had spent the last eight weeks whining about the extra work of covering for Penny, Dani knew it was the perfect threat.

“I’ll let you tell him,” she said.

“I can’t wait.”

LORI WAS STARTLED to find a woman lurking on Gloria’s front porch. In this upscale part of Seattle, the houses were mansion size, the lawns perfect and no one lurked.

“Can I help you?” Lori asked as she slipped her key in her pocket and crossed her arms over her chest. While the woman was perfectly well dressed and seemed normal, Lori had a bad feeling she couldn’t explain.

The woman smiled at her. “Hi, I’m Cassandra. Cassie to my friends. I’m a reporter. I recently wrote an article on Reid Buchanan.”

No need to define which article. In recent weeks there had only been one anyone would remember. “An article, huh? Is that what you’re calling it?”

Cassie smirked. “Oh, so you’re one of his little fans.”

Lori might have a stupid crush on Reid, but she wasn’t about to admit it. Besides, this wasn’t about her feelings, it was about using one’s position to try to destroy an almost innocent—well, innocent—person.

“Do I look like one of his little fans?” she asked bluntly. “I’m actually just a person who wonders about today’s standards of journalism. There’s a difference between reporting and being mean. You got away with what you wrote because you’re a woman. If the situation had been reversed, the article wouldn’t exist.”

Cassie shrugged. “Maybe, but I’m getting great play out of the story. It’s all true. He was lousy in bed, but as I said, that’s just my opinion. Others don’t seem to agree. Is he home?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Lori said, staring at the woman and refusing to even glance at the door.

“I can’t find him anywhere and I don’t think he left Seattle. There aren’t that many places he could go to hide.”

“What about with one of his fans?”

Cassie laughed. “Reid commit to one woman? I don’t think so.”

Which was kind of how Lori saw him, but she was going to ignore that for now.

“You’re trespassing on private property,” she said. “Please leave.”

“Sure. No problem. Oh, by the way, do you spend much time on the Internet?”

“What? Not really.”

“Then you probably haven’t seen these.”

Cassie passed her several photos. Lori glanced down automatically, then wished she hadn’t.

There were about a half-dozen glossy images of Reid having sex. Each picture showed him with the same woman. The pictures were crude, explicit and grainy. But they made the point—he was a man who loved women.

Doing her best not to react, Lori passed them back. She felt like she needed to wash her hands or something. “Thanks, but not before breakfast.”

“These are online. Even a ten-year-old could download them. Are you sure you want to protect him? We should stand together against men like Reid Buchanan.”

Despite the sick feeling in her stomach, Lori shook her head. “I’m not interested in standing with you on anything.”

She waited until the woman left before she headed inside. The sick feeling didn’t go away. What horrible pictures. Did Reid know about them? Had he posed for them? She wanted to believe the pictures had been taken without his knowledge, but how could she be sure? She knew almost nothing about him. Wanting him to be one of the good guys meant absolutely nothing. Based on how he lived his life, he was most likely the guilty party.

That should take care of her little crush. It wouldn’t, of course, but it should.

“YOU NEED TO WALK,” Lori said, hanging on to her patience with both hands. “Just across the room and then we can be done.”

“I’m done now,” Gloria snapped. “It’s enough that damn physical therapist pushes me. At least he knows what he’s doing.”

“You either do your physical therapy and get better, or crawl back in bed and die.”

“You keep threatening me with death,” Gloria snapped, “and I’m still standing.”

Lori stared at the old woman hunched over a walker. “Barely. Don’t you want to get strong enough to kick my ass?”

“What I want is to be rid of you. Get out. Get out now!”

The last couple of words were nearly a scream. Lori ignored them and patted the bed. “Eight steps,” she said cheerfully. “Seven if you don’t shuffle.”

“I don’t shuffle,” Gloria told her icily.

“Looks like shuffling to me.”

“I loathe you with every fiber of my being,” the old woman said.

“I’m sure you do. Now walk.”

Gloria slowly, painfully, made her way across the study. When she reached the bed, Lori steadied her as she lowered herself onto the mattress and slowly lay down.

“Great job,” she said, careful to keep her voice neutral. She wasn’t gloating and didn’t want Gloria to think she was. At least their workout together was a distraction. Lori wanted to stay busy enough to forget the photos she’d seen earlier. Speaking of busy…

She opened the tote bag she’d brought with her and set several catalogs on the table.

“You have a lot of choices,” she said, fanning out the pages. “DVDs, books on tape, your basic shopping, although all my catalogs are discount, which I’m guessing you don’t do.”

Gloria looked from the shiny pages to her and frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“Something to fill your day. Currently you’re staring at these four walls, being cranky and, frankly, getting on my nerves. You need to do something else. Get interested in a soap, read, listen to a book, watch a movie. I would normally add ‘visit with family’ but you seem to be avoiding them.”

Gloria stared at the window. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Interesting. Kristie told me that one of your grandsons stopped by early yesterday evening. Walker. That he’d called first and you’d told him not to come, but he’d shown up anyway.”

The information had stunned Lori. After all, in her mind, Gloria had been the abandoned elder of the family. But first the old woman had refused to see Cal and now she’d told Walker to go away. As much as Lori hated to admit it, Reid might have had a point when he’d said his grandmother was a little difficult.

Gloria narrowed her eyes. “This is none of your business. You mention my family again and you’re fired.”

Lori pretended to yawn. “I’m sorry. What? Did you say something?”

“Don’t think I can’t,” Gloria told her. “One call to the agency that employs you and you’re gone.”

Lori shook her head. “You don’t want me gone. I’m tough on you and you respect that. I care about you and you need that. You can’t be mean enough or crabby enough to scare me away, and that’s new for you. So here’s the question. Why are you trying so hard to live your life alone?”

Gloria pointed at the door. “Get out. Get out now.”

Lori was about to argue when she felt a queasiness in her stomach. She nodded and left, heading directly for the kitchen. By the time she hit the back hallway, she was shaking and feeling close to fainting.

A quick glance at her watch told her she’d gone too long without food. She knew better, but between the reporter’s ambush and her morning workout with Gloria, she hadn’t noticed the time.

She walked into the kitchen only to find the one person she most didn’t want to see. Reid.

He looked up from the thick stack of papers he was reading and smiled at her. “I heard shouting. Should I be worried?”

She was already pretty weak, what with her blood sugar crashing, so the last thing she needed was a visceral reaction to a useless, possibly horrible, man.

But there it was—a sudden fluttering of her heart, a trembling of her thighs that had nothing to do with needing to eat and everything to do with needing a man.

But why did it have to be this one?

“We’re good,” she said and walked to the refrigerator, where she’d stashed a bottle of juice. But before she got there, he was on his feet, next to her.

“Lori? What’s wrong? You look like crap.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“I’m serious.” He touched her cheek. “You’re sweating. And shaking.”

The light brush of his fingers was nothing. Less than nothing. Yet she found herself leaning into the contact and imagining him touching her everywhere. So humiliating. She had to remember there wasn’t an actual person inside. That he was nothing more than a pretty shell. A shell who liked to take pictures.

“I have low blood sugar. I’m crashing. Go away, I’ll be fine.”

He ignored her much as she ignored Gloria’s demands that she go away. “What do you need?”

Oral sex? No, wait. That wasn’t right. “Juice. Food.”

“Done.”

He pushed her into a chair and then got her a glass of orange juice. She gulped half of it, then let the high-sugar liquid sit on her tongue for a few seconds before swallowing.

The results were nearly instantaneous. The trembling stopped, her body relaxed and she started to feel almost normal.

“Better,” she said, looking at him. “Thanks. Go away.”

“That’s nice,” he said sarcastically. “Who crapped on your day?”

“Honestly? You. There was a reporter waiting for me outside your grandmother’s front door this morning. She wanted me to confirm you were staying here, which I didn’t. Just to put a little sparkle in my schedule, she showed me some pictures she’d downloaded from the Internet. Guess who was the star?”

His expression tightened as he swore. “I thought they were gone.”

“You knew about them?” She couldn’t decide if that was good or bad.

“They were taken about six years ago,” he said grimly. “Without my knowledge. This woman I was with wanted proof to show her friends. One of them suggested she get a little more publicity, so she posted them online.”

He sounded embarrassed and mad and frustrated. Lori wanted to believe he wasn’t to blame, but it was difficult. “How have you been living your life?” she asked. “This sort of thing doesn’t happen to normal people. The pictures, the reporter. You need to get your act together.”

“I’m trying. But stuff like this makes it impossible. I even got a court order that the pictures be removed from the Web site. But they’re still showing up on other sites. I don’t want to talk about it anymore. You feel okay now?”

The change of topic caught her off guard. “Yes. I have to eat something.”

“To maintain a higher blood sugar?”

She nodded. “Chocolate would be best. Preferably from Seattle Chocolates.”

“You’re kidding. That can’t be good for you.”

“It’s not.” Like him. “But it’s my fantasy and I can have it if I want to.”

He shook his head and muttered something under his breath. “Okay. Let’s see what real food we’ve got.”

He opened the refrigerator again and began pulling out ingredients. Shredded cheese, some cooked chicken, salsa and large flour tortillas. Food she didn’t remember being in there before.

“Did you go to the grocery store?” she asked.

“I went online and they delivered. There wasn’t anything in this kitchen.”

At least the Internet was good for something, she thought. “Gloria’s meals are delivered fully cooked. I bring in my own stuff.”

He shrugged and dug around for a large frying pan. “Now we have real food.”

“What are you doing?”

“Making you a quesadilla.”

She wasn’t sure which shocked her more—that he knew how, or that he was making one for her. “You can cook?”

“I have a few specialties. I’m very multitalented.”

“I brought my lunch.”

He glanced at her. “No, that’s not it. Let me think. Oh, yeah. How about ‘Reid, thanks so much for making me food and saving me from death.’”

She smiled reluctantly. “You have a well-developed sense of the dramatic.”

“I’m used to being adored.”

She was sure of that. Although some of his fans had turned against him.

She wondered what it would be like to be so much in the public eye, then decided it couldn’t be a good thing. Complicating an already difficult situation was the fact that Reid had a real habit of making lousy choices when it came to women.

As he heated the pan and assembled the quesadilla, he asked, “How’s it going with Gloria?”

“Great. She’s making progress.”

“She’s a challenge,” he told her. “You can say it.”

“Not even under threat of torture.”

He raised his eyebrows. “So I was right. Admit it.”

“I won’t. I still believe her family helped make her the way she is. She’s alone and lonely.”

“She’s crabby, difficult and mean.”

“She’s not mean. Not to me.”

“You don’t know her well enough,” Reid said as he slid the folded tortilla onto the hot pan.

Lori set down her empty glass and tried to find something to look at other than the man at the stove. If she didn’t distract herself, she was afraid she’d start drooling.

It didn’t seem to matter that his character was suspect. Her body wasn’t interested in the three thousand other women he’d had sex with. It just wanted to be number three thousand and one. How sad was that?

She picked up the top sheet of paper from the stack Reid had been going through.

“What’s this?” she asked as she scanned a letter from a boy wanting an autograph.

“A bunch of crap sent over by my manager,” Reid grumbled. “I let his office handle all my fan mail, which might have been a mistake.”

Lori remembered the slams about Reid ignoring kids in need in the newspaper article.

He flipped the tortilla. “I didn’t want to bother,” he said grimly. “That’s my big crime. So I trusted others to take care of things and apparently they did a piss-poor job. Seth’s response to everything was to send a check.”

“Seth’s the business manager?”

He nodded. “I was invited to a hospital opening and didn’t know. They put me on the program and everything. That’s not good.”

“But if you didn’t know, it’s not your fault.” Wait! Was she defending him? She resisted the need to slap herself. Didn’t she consider him useless? Hello, naked pictures. That had to mean something.

“Tell that to the people waiting for me to show up.” He grabbed a plate from the cupboard and slid the quesadilla onto it. “It gets worse. Some kid who was dying wanted to meet me as his last wish. But I didn’t show up. Instead he got an autographed picture and a signed baseball.”

Reid handed her the food, then slumped down across from her. “It all just sucks.”

She was torn, both feeling sorry for him and wanting to shake him. “You’re some famous baseball player, right?” she asked before taking a bite. The quesadilla was perfect—hot, with melted cheese, grilled chicken and just a hint of spice.

“Used to be.”

“Then you’re in a position to make a difference on a much bigger scale than most people. Things went bad. You can’t change that, but you can fix things. The paper mentioned some kids who got stranded with no return ticket. Pay them back. Call the kid and go see him now. Manage your fan mail, yell at your manager or fire him. Get involved.”

Reid stared out the window over the sink. “It’s not that easy.”

Okay, now shaking him had a definite priority over pity. “It can be. I know you were too busy with your exciting life before, but you don’t have that excuse anymore. You have a responsibility. Be the person everyone expects you to be. Grow up. You might surprise yourself.”

“You don’t think much of me, do you?”

“No.”

He gave her a slow, sexy smile. One that gave a whole new meaning to the phrase blown away. If he’d shown her the slightest bit of interest, she would have ripped off her clothes and done it with him right there on the kitchen table.

Of course, according to Cassie’s article, Reid wasn’t all that great in bed. Except she had a feeling Cassie was lying. She had to be. Everything about Reid, the way he moved, he teased, he spoke, declared that the man loved women. All women.

Well, all women except her.

Reality splashed over her like cold water. Time to end the fantasy fest. She wasn’t his type. She would never be someone he could see as appealing. If he knew how he got to her, he would only pity her.

The thought of that shamed her and she spoke before she could stop herself.

“Just so we’re clear, I’m not interested in you,” she said coolly. “Or anyone like you. You’re no one I could like or respect.”

The words hung there in the silence. She desperately wanted to call them back. What had she been thinking? He was Reid Buchanan—he could emotionally eviscerate her with a couple of well chosen words.

She braced herself for the attack as he rose and stared down at her. But he didn’t say what she’d expected.

“I thought you were different,” he said quietly. “I didn’t think you were the type to kick me when I was down. Guess I was wrong.”

And then he was gone and she was alone.

Shame returned, but this time it had nothing to do with wanting a man she could never have. Instead it was about hurting someone who didn’t deserve to be hurt.

She’d been trying to make herself feel better by saying he was nothing more than an empty shell—a pretty façade, not a real person. But she’d been wrong. Reid was very real.

She’d been disrespectful and dismissive. Pretty much acting the way she’d expected him to act. The way others had acted toward her.

She’d become someone she didn’t like and she didn’t know how to fix that.

Chapter Four

LORI STARED at the ringing phone. “Are you going to get that?” she asked.

Gloria continued to flip through the DVD magazine. “There’s no one I want to talk to.”

“Then I guess I’ll talk to them.” Lori grabbed the phone. “Hello?”

“This is Cal Buchanan. You’re, ah…”

“Lori Johnston. We spoke when you called before. Hi. How are you?”

“Good. I’m phoning to check on my grandmother. I thought I might come by later and visit.”

“That’s great.” Lori covered the phone and smiled at Gloria. “It’s Cal. He wants to see you.”

Gloria didn’t bother looking up. “No. Tell him to go away.”

Lori uncovered the phone. “She’s thrilled and can’t wait to see you.”

Cal chuckled. “Want to let me hear her say that?”

“Not really. She doesn’t always say what she means. You have to read between the lines.”

Gloria glared at Lori. “Hang up this instant. You will not answer my phone again, nor will you speak for me.”

Lori took a step back so she was out of reach. “Your grandmother is doing great. She’s making progress every day. Even her physical therapist is impressed and he’s one tough guy to please. She’s gained a little weight. Not as much as I would like, but then I’m just bitter at how good she must look in her clothes.”

Gloria’s scowl didn’t soften. “You’re annoying me. Hang up. Or tell Cal he can visit, but just him. Not that whore he married or her horrible baby.”

Lori winced. She hadn’t had the phone covered and based on how Cal swore, he’d heard every word.

“Why do I bother?” he asked before he hung up.

Lori put down the phone. “What is wrong with you?” she demanded. “Why would you do that? He’s your grandson. This is the second time he’s called, wanting to come see you. To me that shows an impressive level of commitment. If he was just being polite, he would have stopped after one call.”

Instead of answering, Gloria turned her attention back to the catalog.

Lori snatched it from her and tossed it on the ground. “I’m talking to you.”

“I have no interest in this conversation. You need to be careful. You’re coming very close to overstepping your bounds.”

“Excuse me while I tremble in fear.” Lori stalked to the bookcases and turned back to face the bed. “What’s wrong with you?” she asked again. “Why are you acting like this? It doesn’t make any sense. I know you’re lonely. I know you’re hurting and feeling a sense of your own mortality. Who wouldn’t after what you’ve been through? So you deal with that by connecting with people. But you don’t connect. We’re talking about your family and you keep pushing them away. Why?”

“I will not discuss this with you.”

“Too bad, because I’m not leaving until I understand.”

Gloria folded her arms across her chest and looked out the window. Lori stared at her.

“I thought you had the most selfish grandkids in the world,” she said slowly. “You’d lost your only child, you took them in, raised them, ran the family business and your reward was for them to ignore you. But it’s not like that, is it? You push them away. What are you trying to prove?”

“Stay out of this,” Gloria told her, her face tight with anger. “This isn’t your business. You will stop right now.”

“Who’s gonna make me? You? You think you’re so tough, but I’m not afraid of you.”

One corner of Gloria’s mouth twitched. “Very mature.”

Lori held in a grin. Oh, my. Was that a crack in the armor? A sign of humanity? It couldn’t be.

“I don’t care about mature,” Lori told her. “I do what works. What’s going on with Cal? Why don’t you want to see him?”

Gloria turned to the window again, but this time the action seemed more about pain than defiance. “He’s never respected me.”

“I doubt that.”

“You don’t know. And that woman he married. She was pregnant with another man’s baby. That child he’s raising isn’t his.”

And people thought home care could be boring. “Did she cheat on him?”

“No. She was pregnant before they got together.”

“So technically she didn’t do anything wrong.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Actually it is the point. Is Cal happy?”

“Any fool can be happy.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” She leaned against the side of the bed. “You might want to be careful about pushing people away too many times. Eventually they stop trying to get close.”

“You must know this from experience,” Gloria said, turning to look at her.

Lori blinked. “Excuse me? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Of course you do. But it’s not so comfortable to have someone analyzing you, is it?” Gloria looked her up and down. “How long have you done your best to ignore your appearance? One might even say you play down your looks.”

Lori did her best not to react, and that included blushing. “I wear scrubs because it’s appropriate for my job.”

“They’re shapeless and ugly. Your hair isn’t horrible, but you pull it back in that ridiculous braid. No makeup, those glasses.”

“They help me see,” Lori said. “Blind nurses are much harder to employ.”

“You use humor as a weapon. I would say I’m not the only one pushing people away. So what’s your excuse? When did you stop trying?”

A long, long time ago, Lori thought grimly. When she’d realized her older sister was totally perfect and that she, Lori, would never measure up.

“So, now you don’t have quite so much to say,” Gloria said calmly.

“I prefer telling other people what’s wrong with them, but I can handle whatever you say. I wear my hair back because it’s practical. I dress like this because it’s appropriate. I don’t wear makeup because I have limited time in the morning and I’d rather spend it on a run than painting my face.”

“Excellent excuses. Have you used them before or did you come up with them all right now?”

Lori stared at her patient. The good news was Gloria was showing a healthy, if slightly twisted interest in life. The bad news was she’d shot a few unpleasant truths right into Lori’s gut while doing it.

“What do you want from me?” Lori asked. “Is there a purpose or are your comments their own kind of fun?”

“I want you to wear regular clothes. Jeans and a sweater. Looking at you in those…what did you call them?”

“Scrubs.”

“Right. Looking at you in those scrubs is depressing. I’m already near death. I don’t need my demise hurried along by looking at your ugly clothes.”

Lori flipped up the hem of her shirt and pretended to look for a tag. “There’s no warning label that being seen in scrubs can cause death.”

“Insolent child.”

“Crabby old biddy.”

Gloria pressed her lips together, as if holding in a smile. “You will wear regular clothes starting tomorrow.”

“You actually can’t make me.”

Gloria ignored her. “In return, there is a slight chance I might be willing to see one of my grandchildren.”

That was a victory. And worth wearing jeans. “You have a deal.”

Gloria eyed her head. “We also need to do something about your hair.”

“Not likely. The price for that is you singing karaoke.”

DANI WAITED for her large nonfat latte at the crowded Daily Grind across the street from the downtown Nordstrom.

This had always been her favorite of Seattle’s Daily Grinds—probably because it was the first one her brother Cal had opened. She’d stood in line the very first day while Cal had worked the counter and waited to see if his business would take off.

It had. Now there were Daily Grinds all over the West Coast. The company was expanding and giving Starbucks a run for its money.

Of course, thinking about Cal’s success made her own life look just a tad more grim, she thought with a wry smile. Decisions were going to have to be made. No, that wasn’t right. She’d already made the decisions. What she lacked was action.

The barista called her name and she grabbed her coffee. It was time to give notice at The Waterfront and go look for a new job. One where she would succeed or fail based on her performance and not because of her family.

She turned, only to have someone bump into her from behind. She glanced over her shoulder and saw a pleasant-looking man backing away.

“Sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “I zigged when I should have zagged.”

“That’s okay,” Dani said.

“Did you spill?” he asked.

She liked that he visually inspected her coat instead of taking the chance to touch her.

“No. You look good.” Instantly he took another step back. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to say that. Not that you don’t look good. You do. But I wasn’t trying to compliment you. Not that I wouldn’t want to, it’s just…”

He stood there looking so uncomfortable, she momentarily forgot her rule of never again speaking to an unrelated man under the age of seventy-five.

“It’s okay,” she said with a smile. “I totally know what you were trying to say. My coat looks untouched by any form of coffee.”

Relief darkened his pale gray eyes. “Exactly. I didn’t spill.”

“Good.” Impulsively she held out her hand. “I’m Dani.”

“Gary.”

They shook hands and she felt nothing. Not a spark, not a hint of a spark. There was an absolute lack of sparkage. Thank God.

“It’s crazy in here,” she said. “I’d try to avoid the rush, but I don’t know when that is.”

“Me, either.” A couple moved toward them and Gary took a step toward her. “I’m here several times a week for my cup of courage.”

She stepped into a less crowded corner. “You get courage from coffee?”

“From the caffeine. I teach nearby and my afternoon students are surly. This keeps me on my toes.” He raised his cup as he spoke.

He was the kind of man easily overlooked and forgotten, Dani thought. Light brown hair, pale eyes, pale skin. Slender. Nicely dressed, but not flashy. He seemed sincere rather than charming, intelligent rather than physical. All good things.

“What do you teach?” she asked.

“Theology and math at the community college. Most of my students are taking theology to fulfill a requirement, and everyone knows people hate math. I should try to find a fun subject that everyone would like.”

“Is there one?”

“What did you like in college?” he asked.

“Not math,” she said, then smiled. “You probably hear that a lot.”

“I can handle it.”

“I took a lot of classes in restaurant management. That’s what I do now—work in a restaurant. I’ve been an assistant to a chef for a while. I used to manage a place in Renton. Burger Heaven.”

He nodded. “I’ve been there. Great milkshakes. Do you like being an assistant to the chef?”

“I love working for Penny, but it’s time for me to make a change. That’s what I was thinking about when we bumped into each other. That I need to take the risk and go for it. But I’m nervous. What if I fail? What if I succeed? I can’t…”

She stopped talking and stared at him. “I can’t believe I’m just blurting this all out.”

“I appreciate you talking to me, Dani. I’m happy to listen.”

There was something about the way he said it—as if he really meant it.

“But I don’t know you.”

“Sometimes we recognize a kinship in another person,” he said.

If any other guy had tried a line like that on her, she would have hit him in the stomach. But the way Gary spoke the words made her think he really meant them.

“Still, I don’t usually dump stuff on strangers,” she muttered.

“I’m glad I was your exception.” He glanced at his watch. “But I have forty-five bored students waiting to hear about comparative theology through the ages. I have to go.”

He sounded as if he regretted the fact. She kind of did, too.

“Thanks for listening. I appreciate your time,” she said.

“I’m glad I ran into you.”

“Me, too.”

They stared at each other for a second, and then he was gone. Dani walked out the other door and headed for her car.

That was good, she thought. Meeting Gary had reminded her that all men weren’t lying, cheating, smarmy weasels. There were still some nice guys around.

REID FLIPPED through the fan letters in front of him. Some were typed and sounded more like they were from forty-year-old truck drivers than actual kids, but a few really got to him.

He kept returning to the one from Frankie. A kid dying from some form of cancer Reid couldn’t begin to pronounce. The kid who had asked to meet Reid as his last wish.

“Damn it all to hell,” Reid muttered and picked up Gloria’s phone. He punched in the number the kid had written on his letter and leaned back in his chair.

A woman answered. “Hello?”

“Hi. This is…” Reid hesitated. The letter was three months old. Maybe he should wait to say who he was. “Is Frankie there?”

“Oh, God.”

The woman’s voice came out in a sob. Reid stiffened as he heard what sounded like crying.

“Ah, ma’am?”

“I’m sorry. It’s just…” More crying. “He’s gone. It’s been two weeks. Frankie died. I knew it was going to happen. It was inevitable. We all knew it. So I expected to be sad, you know? But why am I shocked? Why do I keep expecting to see him? To hear him? He was just a little boy. So little and now he’s all alone.”

Reid felt as if he’d taken a ninety-mile-an-hour fastball to the gut. The air rushed out of his lungs and he couldn’t speak. Probably a good thing, because what was he supposed to say? That Frankie was in heaven and hanging out with the angels? Who believed that after losing a kid?

“I’m sorry,” he managed at last. “I’m really sorry.”

“Thank you.” The woman cleared her throat. “I didn’t mean to go off like that. I just can’t seem to get it together.” She drew in a breath. “I didn’t get your name. Why are you calling?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Reid said. “I won’t bother you again.”

He hung up the phone and let the letter fall to the ground.

Two weeks. Two fucking weeks. If he’d bothered to read his fan mail even two weeks ago, he could have been there. Could have gone to see the kid.

Not that his showing up would have made any difference, but at least the kid wouldn’t have thought his last wish didn’t matter.

He picked up another letter from a pissed kid, basically telling him off for not bothering to show at some benefit. There were dozens more like it.

Reid closed his eyes and did his best to forget. He wasn’t a bad man. Sure he had his flaws, but he worked hard at his job and he didn’t deliberately hurt anyone. At least that’s what he used to tell himself. Now he had no real job—the sports bar didn’t count—and it turns out he’d hurt a lot of people.

His cell phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID and saw it was Seth—his so-called manager.

“What?” he said by way of greeting.

“Turn on CNN. And brace yourself.”

Reid grabbed the remote and flipped to the appropriate channel. There were two former centerfold twins being interviewed.

“So this is a self-help book?” the reporter asked, barely able to keep from staring at their matching DDD boobs.

“Uh-huh,” one of the blond twins said, her voice high and lispy. The sound made Reid cringe. It also made him remember a couple of nights in Cincinnati, a king-size bed and a whole lot of room service.

“We’ve been in a lot of relationships,” the blonde continued.

“We’ve had a lot of men,” the other one said with a giggle.

“Right.” The first one smiled at the camera. “So we decided to share our experiences with other women. You know, the ones who aren’t as pretty and sexy, who don’t get out as much as we do.”

“There are things they can do,” her sister said earnestly. “Ways to be more sexy. Not just in how they dress, but in what they say and how they act.”

This fabulous offer to American women everywhere came from big-haired twins wearing matching halter tops and hot pants.

“You also talk about some of the men you’ve been with,” the reporter said.

Both sisters giggled. “Uh-huh,” the one on the left said. “We know it’s bad to kiss and tell, but we couldn’t help ourselves.”

Reid got a cold feeling deep in his gut.

“One name popped out at me,” the reporter said. “Reid Buchanan’s been in the news lately.”

Reid groaned.

The twins looked at each other and sighed.

“We didn’t want to say anything in our book,” the first one said. “That would be tacky. But honestly, it wasn’t that great. I mean most guys have trouble with two women, so we expect that. Sure, it’s their fantasy, but when faced with the reality of us naked, it can be a little much.”

“It wasn’t too much,” Reid yelled at the television. “It was fine. It was better than fine. I did great.”

“The earth didn’t move,” the second one said in a low voice. “It happens.”

The reporter leaned forward. “Was it a size issue?”

Reid turned off the TV and sprang to his feet. He paced the length of the room and swore. He didn’t need this in his life. He didn’t deserve it. He wasn’t that horrible a person, was he? He should get a break.

Only no one seemed willing to give him one.

He continued to pace back and forth, but the room was too small. He had an excess of energy and no way to burn it off. He had to get out of here, but there wasn’t anywhere to go.

He headed downstairs for the one person guaranteed to distract him.

Talk about idiotic, he thought as he walked into the kitchen. Lori had made it very clear what she thought of him. Did he need to be beat up more?

Except as definitive as she’d been about not wanting him, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he got to her. If he did, she would hate that. Which, in a twisted way, made him happy. At least annoying her was interesting.

But she wasn’t in the kitchen or the living room. He headed for Gloria’s temporary bedroom.

“Where’s Lori?” he asked when he saw the nurse wasn’t there. “She’s not avoiding me, is she?”

His grandmother slipped off her glasses, put down her book and stared at him. “Amazingly enough, the whole world doesn’t revolve around you, Reid. Lori’s sister is sick and Lori took her to the doctor. She’ll be back in an hour or so. Can you survive on your own until then, or should I call 9-1-1 for emergency assistance?”

Chapter Five

LORI ARRIVED back at Gloria’s house shortly before two in the afternoon. She walked inside only to find Reid waiting for her.

Her first thought was to turn around and hide in her car. She felt self-conscious about both their last conversation where she’d claimed she didn’t want him—a big fat lie if ever there was one—and the fact that she wasn’t wearing scrubs. Jeans and a sweater might be totally casual, but there was also the chance that he might interpret them as a pitiful attempt to attract him.

Or not, she thought honestly. Chances were Reid never thought of her at all. He was too busy posing for porn.

She briefly closed her eyes. No. That wasn’t fair. Her stupid crush wasn’t his fault. Maybe she should rethink the whole self-help book issue. It was more than obvious she needed something to get her back to her normal self. Her last trip to Seattle Chocolate, while delicious, hadn’t totally cured her.

“You were gone,” Reid said as she tucked her purse on an empty shelf in the massive and mostly unused pantry.

“Yes, I was and now I’m back.”

She straightened and stared at him. Why did he have to look so good? Why couldn’t he be ugly or even normal-looking? Why did his eyes make her want to get lost in whatever he was saying and why did his mouth make her long for some sexual acts that might still be illegal in the more conservative red states?

She tried to push past him. When he didn’t move, she said, “I have to check on Gloria.”

“I just did. She’s asleep. I want to talk to you.”

Panic seized her. This was not a conversation she wanted to have.

“I’m busy. Let’s reschedule.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Busy doing what?”

“Stuff. Important stuff.” She groaned silently. Talk about pathetically lame.

She couldn’t handle him today. Not when she was still fighting the embarrassment of their last encounter and she was feeling emotionally vulnerable because of what was going on with Madeline.

Just thinking about her sister drained the last of the fight out of her. Her shoulders slumped and she stared at Reid.

“Fine. What do you want to talk about?”

“You can’t just give in like that,” he said. “It’s not right.”

“You’re complaining because I let you win? You might want to rethink your priorities.”

“Something’s wrong,” he said. “What is it?”

She turned away. “Nothing.”

“I know enough about women to know that really means there’s something but I’m going to have to work to get at it.” He grabbed her arm. “Tell me.”

She didn’t plan to tell him anything. That was the hell of her situation. There was no one to talk to. Certainly not Madeline, who had enough to deal with herself, and not their mother who was a pretty useless kind of person.

She hated that she was tempted. Even more she hated that despite everything, she was hyper-aware of his fingers on her arm. Even through her sweater, she felt heat and need and a whole list of other desires that would go seriously unfulfilled.

“Go away,” she said, able to appreciate that she was starting to sound like Gloria.

“Maybe I can help.”

“Like you’ve helped all those kids who wrote you?” she asked, twisting free and glaring at him. “I don’t think so. But, hey, if you’re so big on knowing, here’s the thing. My sister’s dying. Okay? Are you happy now that you’re well informed? She has a bad case of Hepatitis C she got from a transfusion years ago. A liver transplant could save her, but she has a rare blood type so the odds aren’t good. So I’m thinking you’re not going to be much help at all unless you happen to be AB negative and want to give up your liver to a really good cause.”

She started out of the kitchen, but before she’d gone more than a few feet, she was swamped with feelings. Maybe Reid was a jerk, but he’d never been jerky directly to her. She had no right to lash out at him. In his own shallow way, he probably had been trying to help.

She glanced back at him, taking in the stunned expression darkening his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have said that. The doctor didn’t have good news and that kind of pushed me over the edge.”

Then she shocked herself and probably him by bursting into tears.

Even as the tears poured down her face, she struggled for control. She didn’t cry—not ever. It wasn’t allowed. She was practical and logical and take-charge. She didn’t allow weakness in herself and she didn’t respect it in other people.

But she couldn’t seem to stop crying.

Suddenly Reid was there in front of her. He pulled her close, wrapped his arms around her.

As she couldn’t seem to stop crying, she let herself lean on him for a few minutes. She let herself be comforted and held.

He was tall and strong, she thought as she held on to him. For once her thoughts where he was concerned weren’t about sex. She had the oddest sense that he could be someone she could trust. Which was totally insane. He was as stable as quicksand.

Still, being held felt really nice. She gave in to weakness until the tears dried up, then she sniffed, took a step back and wiped her face on her sleeve.

“Sorry,” she said, staring at the hardwood floor. It was really shiny. Maybe she should put new floors in her place.

“What happened at the doctor’s appointment?” he asked quietly.

She risked looking at him and saw only sympathy in his eyes. She shrugged.

“I’ve known since the diagnosis that it wasn’t going to be good. I mean, I’m a nurse. I can figure out the steps. But I guess it wasn’t real to me before. I guess I thought nothing bad could happen to my sister. Until this, she’s lived a pretty perfect life.”

She sucked in a breath.

“Her doctor talked about how long she had and how we needed to think about hospice care. That really got to me. Talking about the end.”

Reid reached out and took her hand in his. “What’s the time frame?”

“About a year. She moved in with me a few months ago. She’s starting to have bad days. She’s working part-time, but that won’t last long. I took this job because the hours allow me to spend more time with her and the money is great. I’m saving as much as I can so I can take off the last couple of months to be with her.”

She squeezed his hand and fought tears. “She wanted to talk about that today. On the drive home, she said I shouldn’t put my life on hold for her. That she was fine going into a hospice. But I don’t want that for her. I can take care of her.”

She had to be there for Madeline.

“Is a liver transplant the only way to save her?” he asked.

She nodded. “Unless they find a miracle cure and that’s not likely to happen in time. I’ve been tested and I’m not a match.”

He frowned. “You can’t give up your liver.”

Despite the pain and threat of tears, she smiled. “They use living donors now. They would take a piece of my liver. But it’s a nonissue. I can’t. My mom could except she drank so much for years that there isn’t much of her liver left.”

Lori released his hand and took a step back. “It’s just like Madeline to have a weird blood type. She’s totally perfect in every other way. Why can’t she be O positive like the majority of the population?”

It was easier to joke than admit the real problem. There were no easy solutions for her problem or Madeline’s. Lori never knew how to act or what to say. She just lived in guilt. Because as much as she loved her sister, she’d also resented her in equal measure. Which made her a pretty horrible person.

“I’m sorry,” Reid told her. “I know that doesn’t help, but I don’t know what else to say.”

He sounded sincere, she thought as she stared into his eyes. So they were both clueless. An interesting thing to have in common. “Thank you. I’m sorry I fell apart. It’s not like me. Usually I can hold it together.”

“It’s okay. Under the circumstances anyone would.”

She swallowed and forced herself to tell the truth. “You helped.”

One corner of his mouth turned up. “Then that’s a first for this month.”

He walked out of the kitchen, leaving her staring after him. Had they just had a moment that included sensitivity? She didn’t want him to be more than just a pretty face. That made him far too dangerous for her fragile peace of mind. But it seemed she didn’t have a choice in the matter.

REID WALKED INTO the small den he’d turned into a temporary office. Lori’s problems put his into perspective. People thinking he was lousy in bed was nothing when compared with a sister dying. Of course there were the kids who’d been disappointed, ignored and abandoned by someone who was supposed to be a hero. Telling himself it wasn’t his fault wasn’t cutting it anymore.

He glanced at the stack of letters. Okay, so things had gone wrong. Could he fix the problems after the fact? He grimaced as he remembered Frankie’s sobbing mother. If only…

No, he couldn’t fix the problems, but he could stop new ones from happening. He could do better. He could get involved and make sure the right people got what they needed.

He sat in front of the letters and saw the folder from those kids he’d tried to send to the state finals. The ones who hadn’t gotten return tickets.

He read the hostile, accusing letters and felt his gut tighten. Dammit, it wasn’t his fault. He hadn’t had anything to do with the travel arrangements, but that didn’t matter. The offer had been made in his name.

He scanned the bitter letters and found one from the coach. Not sure what he was going to say, he picked up the phone and dialed.

It took a couple of transfers, but he finally got hold of Coach Roberts. After introducing himself he said, “I’m sorry about the mess with the return tickets. I didn’t know anything about the problem until a couple of days ago. The travel agency my manager hired dropped the ball. I, ah, had him send a check reimbursing everyone for their expenses. Did you get it?”

“Oh, we got it,” the coach said. “It was great. It didn’t cover shit, but, hey, it’s the thought that counts, right?”

Reid straightened. “What are you talking about?”

“Do you really think a thousand dollars covers seventeen kids and their families?”

A thousand dollars? “No. There’s been a mistake. It was supposed to cover everything.”

“I don’t know what the hell kind of game you think this is, Buchanan. You’re the worst kind of asshole. This is a poor town in a poor part of the state. These kids come from working class families. They can’t afford tickets, even on the bus. One family’s car got repossessed because they had to make a choice—make the car payment or get their kids home. They picked the kids. Now you send a check for a thousand dollars like that means anything?”

“It was supposed to be more,” Reid mumbled, feeling like crap. Why had Seth done it? Why such a small amount?

“Those kids looked up to you,” Coach Roberts continued. “They idolized you. You made their dreams come true and then you crushed them into dust.”

“I’m sorry,” Reid repeated.

“You sure as hell are. A sorry kind of man. You’re everything I don’t want these kids to be.”

He felt numb. “I want to make it up to them. Do something. Can I send them all to Disney World or something?”

“Oh, right. That would be great. Like anyone can afford a trip home from Florida. I’d tell you to stick with what you know—screwing women—but apparently you can’t even do that right. Go away. No one here wants anything to do with you. We can’t afford your type of charity.”

And the phone went dead.

THE OUTSIDE OF THE upscale Asian restaurant was elegant. Subtle colors, a sparse but very Zen-looking garden and a patio off to the right that could be used for summer outdoor dining.

Dani parked close to the front door and walked inside. Her interview was with Jim Brace, the owner.

The décor was sparse, but beautiful. Lots of glass with accents of brightly colored fabric. The huge dining room was double the size of The Waterfront and spread out in all directions.

As it was a couple of hours before opening, there weren’t many people around. She flagged a busboy who was setting tables and asked for Jim.

The man stared at her. “Does he know you’re here?”

It wasn’t the question that startled her as much as the worry in his eyes.

“I have an appointment with him.”

“Oh, okay. I’ll go get him.” He started to leave, then turned back to her. “Stay here and don’t touch anything.”

“Promise,” Dani said, wondering what it was she was supposed to not be touching.

She returned to the reception desk in the foyer and drew in a deep breath. This was her first interview and it was a big one. Jim Brace’s restaurant was one of the best in Seattle. Restaurant critics argued about which was more exquisite—the food or the service. Starting here was like making a film debut in a summer blockbuster.

She reminded herself she had more than enough experience and that obviously Jim had been impressed by her résumé. If she didn’t get the job, at least she would have the interview experience for the next time.

A tall, slim man walked toward her. She recognized Jim from seeing his picture in the paper and smiled at him.

“Mr. Brace, I’m Dani Buchanan.”

“Call me Jim, please, and I’ll call you Dani.” He shook hands with her and led her toward the back of the restaurant. “Have you eaten here before?”

“A couple of times. The food is incredible.”

“Secret recipes,” he joked. “My mother is half Chinese and my father’s brother spent years in Japan. I grew up in both places, learning the language, but more importantly, studying the food. I summered here in Seattle, so I have American sensibilities. The combination has allowed me to be incredibly successful.”

He paused as a young woman in a kitchen uniform approached with a large tray.

Instead of thanking her, Jim looked over the tray, took it, then said, “You can go.”

The woman bowed slightly and left.

He began putting dishes on the table. “I know you’ll want to get another taste of the food. It’s excellent. Our executive chef, Park, has been with us about six months. I didn’t like all the changes he wanted to make, but I’ve let him do a few things.”

“The Waterfront went through the same sort of thing when it reopened,” Dani said with a smile. “Penny Jackson was determined to get her way. But who can argue with brilliance?”

“I can and do,” Jim told her. “It’s my place. What I say goes.” Without bothering to ask what she liked, he dished up the food onto two plates.

Dani took hers and studied the eclectic offering. There were several kinds of dumplings, tempura vegetables, a casserole that smelled heavenly.

Jim poured her tea, then added a small amount of sugar. Okay, maybe it was just her, but this was a guy who enjoyed taking charge just a little too much. She would be lucky if he didn’t cut up her food and put it on her fork for her.

“I’ve been looking for a manager for a while,” he said. “I need someone who can respect my vision. This restaurant is me.” He shrugged. “I’ve been called difficult.”

Dani thought about all Gloria had done, letting her work her ass off and think she had a chance with the company only to finally admit Dani would never do better than Burger Heaven.

“I can handle difficult,” Dani said. “As long as there are clearly defined goals and targets.”

“Hey, that I can provide.” Jim dug into his food and urged her to do the same. “Isn’t it great?” he said when he’d chewed and swallowed.

She sampled the various dishes and had to agree. When they’d finished, Jim rose and invited her to tour the restaurant with him.

He explained about the specific arrangement of tables and how regulars who spent big had special seating areas. He preferred overbooking and didn’t mind sending people away.

“Won’t they be unhappy and unlikely to return?” she asked.

“Some will be, but in my experience people want what they can’t have and for a lot of them, that’s dinner at my place.”

Dani wrinkled her nose. She was more of a “please the customer at all costs” kind of manager.

They walked through the swinging doors that separated the front of the store from the back. As they stepped into the pristine, open kitchen, she braced herself for flying insults and swearing in several languages. Instead there was an unnatural silence.

She stared at the men all working hard—chopping, blanching, prepping. The tallest of the group walked toward him. The embroidered name on his white jacket identified him as the executive chef.

“Park, this is Dani Buchanan. She’s interviewing for the manager job.”

Park turned to face her, then bowed slightly. But he didn’t speak.

Dani had worked with enough brilliant chefs to expect attitude, opinion and a volume that would shatter the eardrums of the uninitiated.

“Hi,” she said brightly. “I loved the sample menu. This is one place where making recommendations would be easy.”

Nothing about Park’s handsome face changed. He blinked slowly.

Before she could figure out what else to say, there was a loud clang in the back of the kitchen as two metal bowls fell into a metal sink. Jim immediately turned and spoke harshly in a language Dani didn’t understand. Everyone froze in midmotion, even Park.

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