Her Sister (Search For Love series) (24 page)

Her
gaze met his.  The sparks of gold in the brown told him his touch affected her
as much as hers affected him.  She pulled away, and he let go.

Gillian
busied herself pulling napkins from the holder while Nathan paid for and
carried their plates to a bench.  Picking up their sodas, she joined him. 
She'd no sooner settled on the bench with her soda by her shoe and the cup of
chili with a wedge of cornbread perched on the edge in her hand when the
schnauzer she'd seen earlier ran over to her and jumped up and down, finally
landing with her paws on Gillian's knees.

Gillian
laughed and held her dish a little higher, out of the dog's reach.  "You
might want supper, but I'm not sure you should have this."

One of
the roller-bladers came skating over, his helmet under his arm, a leash
dangling from his hand.  "Sorry if she's botherin' you.  She begs from
everybody."

The boy
was about twelve.  His spiked brown hair was matted down from his helmet, his
snapping brown eyes sparkled with amusement.  Gillian asked him, "Can she
have a bite?"

He
grinned.  "If you wanna give it to her."

Gillian
tried to tear off a piece of the cornbread, but it slid into the chili.  Nathan
grabbed the dish and held it for her.  Smiling her thanks, she took the small
bite from the wedge and let the dog lick it from her hand.  The schnauzer
gulped it down and looked up at her for more.  Laughing again, Gillian
scratched the pet behind her ears.  "I should have known that little bit
wouldn't be enough."

As she
touched the dog and rubbed her rough coat, Gillian felt her gaze pulled to the
teenager again.  He and the dog were connected by a strong bond of affection. 
A surge of energy made her fingers tingle and she automatically closed her eyes
for a moment.  A clear picture of a dark-haired woman on a porch came into
focus.  The woman was worried.  Gillian had the distinct impression she was the
boy's mother.

Opening
her eyes, Gillian cast a wary look at Nathan.  He was watching her closely. 
Should she say something to the boy about his mother?  If she did, Nathan would
know what had happened.  Why had this vision come now?  Since she'd left
Indiana, she'd felt normal--no pictures, no knowledge she shouldn't have.

Gillian
looked at the boy, knowing she couldn't let the woman in her mind's eye suffer
unnecessarily.  "I think your dog wants a full-course meal."

"What
time is it?" he asked with a nod at Gillian's watch.

"Five-thirty."

"Geez. 
I was supposed to be home an hour ago.  Mom's gonna be..."  He stopped
with a shrug as if a boy his age shouldn't worry about adult authority. 
Snapping the leash onto the dog's collar, he gave it a gentle tug. 
"C'mon, Peanut.  We'll get us both some supper."  He smiled at
Gillian and skated over to his friends, who sat on the curb sipping sodas.

Nathan
handed Gillian her plate.  "What happened?"

"You
saw what happened.  I gave the dog a snack."

"When
you touched the dog, you closed your eyes."

The man
was too observant.  "The boy's mother was worried about him."

"You
felt that?"

"I
saw that.  She was standing on the porch waiting for him."

"You
got that from petting the dog?" Nathan asked, astonished.

She'd
faced expressions like his many times in the past.  "Mr. Bradley..."

"Nathan,"
he reminded her. 

Calling
him by his first name seemed too familiar.  She already knew she could be
attracted to him.  "This 'talent' I have isn't something I can turn off
and on like a light switch.  It's more unpredictable than the weather or
earthquakes."

"You
made him realize she was worried without saying it, without telling him you
knew."

"That
was easiest."

Nathan
finished his enchilada and took a swig of soda before he spoke again.  "My
ex-wife took my daughters out of the country six months ago.  I can't find
them. My P.I. can't find them.  Will you take my case?"

Buy
NATHAN'S VOW on Amazon.com

****

Excerpt from
WHEN MOM MEETS DAD

Finding Mr. Right
series, Book 3

Chapter One

The
bell over the door at the ice cream shoppe dinged as Alex Woodsides entered and
waited until his daughter preceded him inside.  "Cone, sundae, or banana
split?" he asked Kristy as they stepped up to the counter.

"Banana
split," she replied with a wide smile, her brown curls bobbing around her
face, her green eyes twinkling.  At nine years old she looked like him rather
than her mother, and Alex had always thought, at least in that instance, fate
had been fair.

The
teenager at the counter took their orders.  Alex remembered his parents taking
him for ice cream after the last day of school.  It was a tradition...one of
those traditions he meant to keep.  His father always said, "Tradition
makes a man feel secure."  At thirty-three, Alex had come to believe his
father was right.

A few
minutes later Alex sat across from his daughter at one of the round,
glass-topped tables.  "So tell me what happened to your math grade,
honey.  Your teacher said you didn't have any problems before the last few
weeks.  Maybe you and I need to work on it over the summer."

His
general law practice limited his time with Kristy more than he liked.  But if
she needed help with schoolwork, they'd find time for that and other
activities, too.  He'd never regretted accepting sole custody of Kristy from
the moment she was born.  She was the joy of his life.

Kristy
shoved in a spoonful of ice cream.  "I was thinking, Dad," she
mumbled as she swallowed.  "It might be better if Heather's mom helped
me.  After all, she's a teacher and all.  And I really like her.  Since she's
home for the summer, she has gobs of time."

Instantly,
Alex pictured Amanda Carson, her shoulder-length, honey-blond hair sweeping
along her cheek, her blue eyes sparkling with friendliness whenever they had
occasion to speak at parent-teacher meetings or when he dropped Kristy off at
Heather's.  He knew Amanda was a single parent too, and more than once, he'd
thought about asking her out.  But ever since Kristy's mother had bailed out,
he preferred work and his daughter to tempting fate a second time.

"Don't
you think letting Mrs. Carson tutor me would be a good idea?" Kristy
prodded.

Alex
knew he could help his daughter with math, yet his patience sometimes ran a
little thin.  A teacher might be able to analyze Kristy's problem much faster. 
"All right.  I'll call her when we get home."

Kristy
licked whipped cream from her spoon.  "Why don't we just stop there on the
way?"

He
couldn't say no with his daughter looking at him so hopefully.  "Sure. 
Why not?"

***

As Alex
walked up to the door of the compact brick rancher with its carport, its white
shutters and pink geraniums planted along the front garden, he compared it to
his four-bedroom, two-story Tudor on a two-acre lot only a block away.  His
gardener maintained a well-kept lawn and trimmed the yews on either side of the
front porch into symmetrical roundness.  But this little house with its
personally cared-for look was charming.

Kristy
jabbed the bell and Heather appeared as if by magic.  "Hi, Mr. Woodsides. 
C'mon in.  My mom's out back."

He
looked at his daughter.

She
shrugged.  "I told Heather we might stop so you could talk to her
mom."

His
daughter and Amanda's were together as often as they could manage.  They'd
probably thought up this idea.  He addressed Heather.  "Does your mom know
we were coming?"

Heather
exchanged a look with Kristy, then shook her head, sending her blond ponytail
swinging.  "Kristy didn't know if you'd go for it."

Her
honesty made him smile.  "I see.  Well, now we'll ask your mom if she'll
go for it."

Heather
led the way through a living room decorated with rose-and-yellow flowered
upholstery and lace curtains, into a kitchen with maple-stained cabinets and a
table and chairs to match.  The small hutch hosted delicate white china.  He'd
never been inside Amanda Carson's home before.  It was charming.

Heather
led them out onto the back porch with its old-fashioned wooden swing and
pointed down the yard.  "She's having problems with the lawn mower.  It
doesn't want to start.  Maybe you can help, Mr. Woodsides."

Amanda
Carson's nine-year-old looked up at him with the same expectant expression
Kristy often wore.  Just from things Kristy had said, he realized the Carsons
were on a tight budget.  A lawn mower repair bill was probably an additional
expense they didn't need.

"I'll
see what I can do," he assured her, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt in
deference to the warm weather.  In air-conditioning all day at the office and
at home, he'd forgotten how warm June could be.

But
then he saw Amanda Carson and realized the temperature suddenly felt a lot
warmer.  She was standing over the lawn mower, a furrow between her brows.  Her
short cotton blouse tied under her breasts, emphasizing their swell.  The skin
of her slim waist peeked from between the blouse and her short denim shorts. 
She'd tied her hair high on her head with some kind of yellow band.  This was a
different Amanda Carson than he'd seen in the past.  She certainly didn't look
like a sedate third-grade teacher now!

She
looked up when she heard him approach.  A smudge of grease on her cheek was as
appealing as her long, nicely curved legs.  Alex's body stirred, startling
him.  It had been a very long time since the mere appearance of a woman had
affected him.

"Mr.
Woodsides!  Is something wrong?"  She blushed prettily as her gaze passed
over his navy dress slacks and white shirt.

Suddenly,
he wanted to wipe that smudge from her cheek.  Just as suddenly he wanted to
touch her skin.  "No, nothing's wrong.  There's something I'd like to
discuss with you.  But it looks as if you could use some help.  Heather said
the lawn mower won't start."

Amanda
gave the machine a disgusted look.  "I thought maybe if I let it sit a
while, I could coax it.  But this isn't your problem..."

A sense
of chivalry prodded him.  "But if I can fix it, it won't be your problem,
either.  Let me take a look."

Amanda
stepped away from the mower and smiled.  "I won't turn down an offer like
that.  How about something to drink?"

"Sounds
good."

Alex
forced his attention away from her midriff to the lawn mower.  But when she
walked to the house, he couldn't keep his gaze from following the sway of her
hips.  A fantasy popped into his head and he shook it off.  He was here for his
daughter's sake, and he'd better remember that.

***

For the
life of her, Amanda couldn't figure out why she was disconcerted that Alex
Woodsides was crouched in her yard, fidgeting with her lawn mower.  She'd
probably said twenty words to him since she'd moved to Cedar Grove.  Well,
maybe fifty.

Opening
the refrigerator door, she picked up the pitcher of iced tea.  All right.  So
he'd appeared unbidden in a dream or two.  With his tall, muscled physique, his
green eyes, his dark brown hair, her libido had snatched him out of the world's
population to give her a midnight thrill.  She remembered one dream in
particular...

With a
sigh, Amanda poured two glasses of iced tea, wondering where the girls had
disappeared to.  It was steaming hot in Heather's room where they usually hung
out.  Heather was her best reason for dismissing dreams as well as handsome men
in her back yard.  Hadn't her marriage and divorce taught her anything?

As she
took oatmeal cookies from a canister and arranged them on a plate, she glanced
out the window.  Good heavens!  Alex Woodsides had removed his shirt.  All she
could do was stare as he pulled on the starter rope.  Muscular arms.  Broad
back and shoulders.  Slim waist.  And when he turned...

She
quickly moved to the table with the plate of cookies, but not before she'd
glimpsed thick wavy dark hair arrowing down his chest.  She'd no sooner carried
the glasses to the table when her back screen door opened.  Suddenly the man
from her dreams was standing in her kitchen--hot, sweated and exceptionally
male.

At
first she couldn't find her voice.  Finally, she managed, "Did you find
the problem?"

"Sure
did.  A gummed up spark plug."  He set it on the counter.  "Just take
that to the hardware store for a replacement."

She
gave a sigh of relief.  "I thought the mower was on its last legs. 
Thanks."

They
stared at each other for a few moments, neither of them moving.  Amanda was too
aware of Alex's scent, both male and cologne, and the heat that seemed to rise
up between them.  She had to break the spell and distance herself.