The Mccaffertys: Slade. Lisa Jackson
He heard the whine of an engine and his muscles tightened. He turned toward the window.
Through the frosty panes he caught a glimpse of a tiny blue car chugging its way along the drive. Slade’s gut clenched. The compact slid to a stop, narrowly missing his truck. A couple of seconds later a tall woman emerged from the car. With a black briefcase swinging from her arm, she hesitated just a second as she looked at the house, then taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and strode up the front path where the snow had been broken and trampled.
Jamie Parsons in the flesh.
Great. Just…great.
She was all confidence and femininity in her severe black coat. Sunstreaked hair had been slicked away from a face that boasted high cheekbones, defined chin, and wide forehead. He couldn’t make out the color of her eyes but remembered they were hazel, shifting from green to gold in the sunlight or darkening when she got angry.
For a second he flashed upon a time when the two of them had been down by the creek, not far from the swimming hole where Thorne had almost drowned.
It had been a torridly hot summer, the wildflowers had been in bloom, the grass dry and the smell of fresh-cut hay had floated in the air along with the fluff from dandelions. He’d dared her to strip naked and jump into the clear water. And she, with the look of devilment in those incredible eyes, had done just that, exposing high, firm breasts with pink nipples and a thatch of reddish hair above long, tanned legs. He’d caught only a glimpse before she’d dashed into the water, submerged and come up tossing her wet hair from her eyes. He could still hear her laughter, melodious as a warbler’s song.
God, where had that come from? It had been eons ago. A lifetime. The bad day just got worse.
From somewhere on the front porch Harold gave up a deep “woof” just as the doorbell chimed.
“You gonna get that?” Matt asked, and Slade, frowning, headed along the hallway toward the front door.
From the kitchen Juanita, the housekeeper, was rattling pans and singing softly in Spanish, while in the living room a fire crackled and Nicole, Thorne’s wife, was playing a board game with her four-year-old twin daughters. Giggles and quiet conversation could be heard over the muted melodies of Christmas carols playing from a recently purchased CD player. At the sound of the front door chimes, two little voices erupted.
“I get it! I get it!”
“No. Me!”
Two sets of small feet scurried through the living room as Molly and Mindy, their dark ringlets flying, scrambled into the entry hall and raced for the door. Small hands vying for the handle, they managed to yank the door open and there on the front porch, looking professional, feminine and surprised as all getout at her reception, stood Jamie Parsons, Attorney-at-Law.
CHAPTER TWO
“WHO’RE YOU?” MOLLY DEMANDED, her brown eyes trained on the woman in black.
“I’m Jamie.” With one quick glance at Slade, she bent down on one knee, mindless that her coat was getting wet in the snow melting on the floorboards of the porch. Good Lord, he’d gotten better looking! “And who are you?” she asked one girl.
“Molly,” the bolder twin asserted, rubbing a hand on her pink sweatshirt.
“And you?” Jamie’s eyes moved to Molly’s identical sister. They were Slade’s daughters, she thought wildly. Surprised that she cared. “What’s your name?”
Mindy took a step behind Slade’s jeans-clad leg. Her small arms wrapped around his knee and she hid her face.
“She’s Mindy and she’s shy,” Molly stated.
“Am not.” Mindy’s thumb was suddenly in her mouth as she peeked around Slade’s thigh. Slade was amused as he read Jamie’s case of nerves. Another set of footsteps announced Nicole’s arrival. Tall, slender, with amber eyes and blond-streaked hair, she was a doctor at St. James Hospital and the mother of the imps, not to mention the reason Thorne wore a smile these days.
“Hello,” she said to Jamie. “I’m Nicole McCafferty.” She extended a hand and tossed a lock of hair off her shoulder. “And these two tornados—” she indicated the twins with her chin “—are my daughters.”
Straightening, Jamie accepted Nicole’s handshake. She glanced at Slade, and something dark shifted in her hazel eyes. Her smile became a little more forced, her voice more professional and cool. “Pleased to meet you. All of you.”
“I take it you already know Slade?” Nicole said as she peeled Mindy from Slade’s leg and gathered the shy girl into her arms.
“Yes…we’ve…we’ve met. Years ago.” Jamie’s voice was husky and she cleared her throat.
Slade noticed that she inched her chin up a fraction as she turned to him and, gesturing to the girls, said, “You’ve been busy.”
He lifted one eyebrow.
“Your daughters…they’re lovely,” she added.
“Why thank you,” he drawled, smothering a smile at her discomfiture—now what was that all about? “But they’re not mine.”
“Oh. I’m sorry. I was married before,” Nicole explained. “I just recently joined this family.”
“I see.”
Nicole laughed as she finally caught on. “Oh. No. No! It’s not what you think. Slade’s my brother-in-law. I’m married to Thorne.”
“Poor woman,” Slade drawled, and Nicole sent him a dirty look. He witnessed a blush steal up Jamie’s neck. He remembered that. How easily her fair skin would color a soft, embarrassed pink.
“Oh. Well. My mistake.” Was she relieved? “There wasn’t any reference to wives in the documents.”
“That will have to be changed.” Nicole chuckled and stepped out of the doorway as a black-and-white-spotted cat darted up the stairs. “Come in. It’s freezing out there. Let me take your coat, and Slade—if he has a gentlemanly bone in his body, which is highly unlikely in my opinion—can show you into the dining room where the rest of the clan is waiting.”
“I can manage that,” Slade allowed.
“I hope so.” Nicole transferred a squirming Mindy to the floor. “Meanwhile, I’ll see if Juanita can scrounge up some coffee or tea.”
Jamie was working the buttons of her coat. “That would be great.”
“I’ll take that,” Slade offered as Nicole headed toward the kitchen, her daughters trailing after her like ducklings behind a mother duck.
Jamie set her bags down and shrugged out of her overcoat with Slade’s help. His fingers brushed her nape for the briefest of seconds and he thought she stiffened, but he might have imagined it. She probably barely remembered him.
All business in a black suit and shimmery blouse, she picked up her bags again. “Ready?” she asked.
“As I’ll ever be.” He showed her along the hallway to the dining room. They passed by what he referred to as the McCafferty Hall of Shame where photos of the family were mounted. With cool disinterest Jamie’s eyes skimmed pictures of Thorne in his football uniform, Randi going to the prom, Matt on a bucking bronco and Slade skiing downhill as if the devil were on his tail. Jamie didn’t react, just walked smartly into the dining room.
“Hi,” she said. “You all probably know this, but I figured I’d better get the formal introductions over. I’m Jamie Parsons with Jansen, Monteith and Stone.” Thorne had some trouble scrambling to his feet as one of his legs was in a brace, but Matt reached forward to shake her hand. Slade made quick introductions. “All right,” she said, offering them each a smile that Slade was certain she’d practiced a thousand times in front of a mirror,