Damn her gorgeous hide. She was enjoying this. Any other time, he also might have seen the humor in his mother's machinations. But the lovely Miss Patterson made him too aware of how long it had been since a woman had put even a small dent in the defenses he'd erected after J.D..
Callie's kind of beauty only made things worse, sending his internal systems into overdrive like a supercharged engine and his common sense fleeing to God knows where. He’d never understood his affinity for Nordic goddesses, especially because they tore a hole in his gut every time. Yet even now, when his future seemed as murky as his vision had become, he felt the pull of cool blue eyes and sunlight hair.
He knew this wasn't the time to give in to his impulses and definitely not with this woman. He needed to concentrate his energies on making sure the family had what it needed to survive, even if that meant working overtime before the worst happened. Which would leave no time for distractions like the one sitting an arm’s length away. Could he find some reasonably effective way to short circuit his newly inflamed hormones?
Realizing he'd drifted, he turned back to the conversation.
"...in fact, I don't mind your mother's questions," Callie was saying. "I'm sure she's tactful enough not to ask anything really personal."
She laughed a throaty chuckle that started his heart hammering at his insides. If he wasn't careful, Callie Patterson would wreck his constitution.
He glanced at his mother, whose face showed her eagerness to learn more about the new "young lady".
"I come from St. Louis," Callie said. "Born and raised."
"Your great grandfather moved the family back there when the economy here failed," Fernando said. "Apparently they never left."
"Is that where your parents are?" Dorotea asked.
"My folks died when I was a teenager, but there are some relatives still there. And....” She sipped her coffee. “...I have cousins on the west coast and a brother in Boston."
"And what does he do?" the older woman asked.
"Brian teaches English Lit at Harvard."
Luc tried to keep his features impassive. Apparently he failed.
"And you were thinking what?" Callie asked.
"Nothing," he said with a shrug. "It just fits somehow."
"What? Some stereotype you harbor?"
"We all have them. You know, the way we expect people to be instead of the way they are."
Callie rolled her eyes. "Heaven only knows what you think of me. But when you're picturing my brother, make sure you add the third degree black belt and an Olympic bronze in the shot put."
Luc smiled. "Big guy, is he?"
"Size isn’t everything."
He stared at her for a moment, wondering whether the double entendre had been deliberate. She arched one eyebrow, causing him to roar with laughter.
"Touché, Ms. Patterson."
"You will be happy out here?" his mother asked in an obvious attempt to change the subject.
"I don't know. I hope so. My grandfather and his father hated it, but my grandmother and Aunt Hatt loved it. I think it's sad they never came back, even for a visit."
"Perhaps the sadness would have been even greater if they had," Fernando said.
"Forgive me," Callie said, "but it sounds as though you have reason to know."
"No life is free of sorrow," the old man said. "Or regret."
His usually vital father suddenly looked all of his 90-plus years. Luc wondered what regrets would haunt his own life decades from now. In an attempt to refocus on the conversation, he turned to Callie. "The dream you mentioned earlier, was it yours or theirs?"
Callie returned his gaze. His eyes had gone as soft as his voice; his features had relaxed and for once, he seemed truly interested.
"I'm sure it began with them, but over the years it became mine. I wouldn't be able to separate the two, even if I wanted to."
"Which you don’t."
"Which I don’t."
"You burned your bridges when you sold your agency,” he said. “What happens if this venture fails?"
"I'll build new bridges if I have to, but
Callie's kind of beauty only made things worse, sending his internal systems into overdrive like a supercharged engine and his common sense fleeing to God knows where. He’d never understood his affinity for Nordic goddesses, especially because they tore a hole in his gut every time. Yet even now, when his future seemed as murky as his vision had become, he felt the pull of cool blue eyes and sunlight hair.
He knew this wasn't the time to give in to his impulses and definitely not with this woman. He needed to concentrate his energies on making sure the family had what it needed to survive, even if that meant working overtime before the worst happened. Which would leave no time for distractions like the one sitting an arm’s length away. Could he find some reasonably effective way to short circuit his newly inflamed hormones?
Realizing he'd drifted, he turned back to the conversation.
"...in fact, I don't mind your mother's questions," Callie was saying. "I'm sure she's tactful enough not to ask anything really personal."
She laughed a throaty chuckle that started his heart hammering at his insides. If he wasn't careful, Callie Patterson would wreck his constitution.
He glanced at his mother, whose face showed her eagerness to learn more about the new "young lady".
"I come from St. Louis," Callie said. "Born and raised."
"Your great grandfather moved the family back there when the economy here failed," Fernando said. "Apparently they never left."
"Is that where your parents are?" Dorotea asked.
"My folks died when I was a teenager, but there are some relatives still there. And....” She sipped her coffee. “...I have cousins on the west coast and a brother in Boston."
"And what does he do?" the older woman asked.
"Brian teaches English Lit at Harvard."
Luc tried to keep his features impassive. Apparently he failed.
"And you were thinking what?" Callie asked.
"Nothing," he said with a shrug. "It just fits somehow."
"What? Some stereotype you harbor?"
"We all have them. You know, the way we expect people to be instead of the way they are."
Callie rolled her eyes. "Heaven only knows what you think of me. But when you're picturing my brother, make sure you add the third degree black belt and an Olympic bronze in the shot put."
Luc smiled. "Big guy, is he?"
"Size isn’t everything."
He stared at her for a moment, wondering whether the double entendre had been deliberate. She arched one eyebrow, causing him to roar with laughter.
"Touché, Ms. Patterson."
"You will be happy out here?" his mother asked in an obvious attempt to change the subject.
"I don't know. I hope so. My grandfather and his father hated it, but my grandmother and Aunt Hatt loved it. I think it's sad they never came back, even for a visit."
"Perhaps the sadness would have been even greater if they had," Fernando said.
"Forgive me," Callie said, "but it sounds as though you have reason to know."
"No life is free of sorrow," the old man said. "Or regret."
His usually vital father suddenly looked all of his 90-plus years. Luc wondered what regrets would haunt his own life decades from now. In an attempt to refocus on the conversation, he turned to Callie. "The dream you mentioned earlier, was it yours or theirs?"
Callie returned his gaze. His eyes had gone as soft as his voice; his features had relaxed and for once, he seemed truly interested.
"I'm sure it began with them, but over the years it became mine. I wouldn't be able to separate the two, even if I wanted to."
"Which you don’t."
"Which I don’t."
"You burned your bridges when you sold your agency,” he said. “What happens if this venture fails?"
"I'll build new bridges if I have to, but
Similar Books
