of him was that he was a cross between the Incredible Hulk and one of those cowboys from a black-and-white TV show from the 1960s. Women were dumping babies on him one moment and asking for his protection in the next. If the women hadn’t been talking to him about serious matters, she would have thought he was the town babysitter—and ancient.
But he was far from old. He was young and good-looking and . . . her potential employer’s son, Gemma reminded herself.
She got off the bed and wandered about the room, looking at Colin’s possessions. There was a large trophy on the floor in the corner. O FFENSIVE L INEBACKER , C ENTER it read. On the closet door were stapled some ribbons for other sports: swimming, hockey, even one for show jumping a horse.
Must have been a Frisian, she thought as she envisioned the medieval knights riding into battle on their huge, heavy horses. The historian in her knew that Colin would look good in armor.
On top of his chest of drawers was an open box, the kind that expensive jewelry came in. Inside, instead of something intrinsically valuable, was a cheap little metal star with the word SHERIFF across it. From the look of it, it had been played with and carried about for years. The edges were worn down to a smooth dullness.
The toy badge conjured images of a young Colin, probably bigeven as a toddler, as he proudly wore a sheriff’s badge. Smiling, Gemma ran her hand around the star, then glanced at the clock. If she didn’t want to be late, she’d better get showered and dressed for dinner.
Thirty minutes later, Gemma looked in the mirror and knew she’d done the best she could. She’d put on light makeup and dark trousers with a teal blue silk shirt. Her shoes were sensible heels and well worn, but polished. She reminded herself that she was trying for a job, not to become a member of the family.
She had her hand on the doorknob, ready to go into the inside of a house that she’d not seen, but she chickened out. Instead, she ran to the side door, stepped onto the little porch, and ran down the stairs to the ground. Now what? she wondered. Should she go to the front door and ring the bell?
“Oh, crap!” she heard a woman say. A few feet away was a screen door, and when Gemma looked inside she saw a large, modern kitchen. Standing in the center of it was a tall, beautiful woman, her lustrous dark hair pulled back into a soft chignon. She had on black silk trousers and an emerald green top that clung to her rather remarkable bosom. This wasn’t what Gemma had imagined when Colin had said the woman coming to cook was a friend of “the whole family.” If she was someone’s girlfriend, Gemma certainly hoped she wasn’t Colin’s.
With a jolt, Gemma realized that for all of the woman’s elegance and beauty, she was leaning over the island, holding her left hand up, and blood was trickling down her arm. She wasn’t moving, just staring at the blood with glassy eyes.
Gemma threw back the door, ran inside, grabbed the woman’s wrist, and pulled her to the sink. She turned on the cold water and pushed the woman’s hand under it.
“Where’s the first aid kit?” Gemma asked, but the woman didn’t say anything. Gemma grabbed a dishtowel on the countertop andwrapped it around the cut finger. She turned off the water, then led the woman to sit down on a tall wooden stool, and went in search of bandages. She found a big box of first aid supplies in a white metal box hanging on the wall in the walk-in pantry.
With the box in hand, Gemma hurried back to the woman, who hadn’t moved so much as an eyelid since she’d left her. Gemma was regretting having left her cell phone upstairs. If she had to call an ambulance, she’d need it. But then, she reminded herself that Colin was probably nearby, and he’d know what to do.
Gently, Gemma removed the cloth from the woman’s hand. She needed to see how bad the injury was before she called for help. When she saw that the cut was
But he was far from old. He was young and good-looking and . . . her potential employer’s son, Gemma reminded herself.
She got off the bed and wandered about the room, looking at Colin’s possessions. There was a large trophy on the floor in the corner. O FFENSIVE L INEBACKER , C ENTER it read. On the closet door were stapled some ribbons for other sports: swimming, hockey, even one for show jumping a horse.
Must have been a Frisian, she thought as she envisioned the medieval knights riding into battle on their huge, heavy horses. The historian in her knew that Colin would look good in armor.
On top of his chest of drawers was an open box, the kind that expensive jewelry came in. Inside, instead of something intrinsically valuable, was a cheap little metal star with the word SHERIFF across it. From the look of it, it had been played with and carried about for years. The edges were worn down to a smooth dullness.
The toy badge conjured images of a young Colin, probably bigeven as a toddler, as he proudly wore a sheriff’s badge. Smiling, Gemma ran her hand around the star, then glanced at the clock. If she didn’t want to be late, she’d better get showered and dressed for dinner.
Thirty minutes later, Gemma looked in the mirror and knew she’d done the best she could. She’d put on light makeup and dark trousers with a teal blue silk shirt. Her shoes were sensible heels and well worn, but polished. She reminded herself that she was trying for a job, not to become a member of the family.
She had her hand on the doorknob, ready to go into the inside of a house that she’d not seen, but she chickened out. Instead, she ran to the side door, stepped onto the little porch, and ran down the stairs to the ground. Now what? she wondered. Should she go to the front door and ring the bell?
“Oh, crap!” she heard a woman say. A few feet away was a screen door, and when Gemma looked inside she saw a large, modern kitchen. Standing in the center of it was a tall, beautiful woman, her lustrous dark hair pulled back into a soft chignon. She had on black silk trousers and an emerald green top that clung to her rather remarkable bosom. This wasn’t what Gemma had imagined when Colin had said the woman coming to cook was a friend of “the whole family.” If she was someone’s girlfriend, Gemma certainly hoped she wasn’t Colin’s.
With a jolt, Gemma realized that for all of the woman’s elegance and beauty, she was leaning over the island, holding her left hand up, and blood was trickling down her arm. She wasn’t moving, just staring at the blood with glassy eyes.
Gemma threw back the door, ran inside, grabbed the woman’s wrist, and pulled her to the sink. She turned on the cold water and pushed the woman’s hand under it.
“Where’s the first aid kit?” Gemma asked, but the woman didn’t say anything. Gemma grabbed a dishtowel on the countertop andwrapped it around the cut finger. She turned off the water, then led the woman to sit down on a tall wooden stool, and went in search of bandages. She found a big box of first aid supplies in a white metal box hanging on the wall in the walk-in pantry.
With the box in hand, Gemma hurried back to the woman, who hadn’t moved so much as an eyelid since she’d left her. Gemma was regretting having left her cell phone upstairs. If she had to call an ambulance, she’d need it. But then, she reminded herself that Colin was probably nearby, and he’d know what to do.
Gently, Gemma removed the cloth from the woman’s hand. She needed to see how bad the injury was before she called for help. When she saw that the cut was
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