Storming Whitehorn. Christine Scott
her Jeep Wrangler, her heart was still pounding and the muscles in her legs felt like jelly. She’d never felt so awful. This was the first major disagreement she’d ever had with her mother. A disagreement over a man, of all things.
But not just any man, she told herself as she rested her hand on the door of her Jeep. A man whose mutual history had had such a devastating affect upon their family. Storm Hunter.
Chapter Three
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Jasmine asked. She studied the delicate lines of her cousin’s pensive face as she rocked her step daughter, Alyssa, in her arms.
Summer didn’t answer right away. Instead she glanced down at the sleeping child, her gaze softening. Jasmine envied the look of maternal pride shimmering in her dark brown eyes. Quietly Summer said, “Storm is the last of my father’s family. It’s time we finally met.”
“Right,” Jasmine said, not bothering to hide the doubtfulness from her tone. She glanced at her wristwatch for the second time in as many minutes. “If and when he shows up, that is.”
Storm was late. He should have arrived thirty minutes ago. Jasmine wished she didn’t have to voice the concern she knew Summer shared. That Storm had changed his mind. That he wasn’t going to come, after all.
“He’ll be here,” Summer said, her voice firm with conviction.
Jasmine sighed. “I wish I could be as certain of this meeting as you are. I’m not sure I’d be quite as for giving of an uncle who’d ignored my existence for twenty-nine years.”
“I’m sure he had his reasons, Jasmine. What matters is that he’s making the effort now,” Summer murmured. She stood, gathering Alyssa close. “I need to put Alyssa in bed for her nap. I won’t be long.”
Jasmine nodded, resisting the urge to sigh again. Instead she rose to her feet and began pacing the floor. Her protective instincts billowed inside her. She swore, if Storm Hunter didn’t show up after putting her cousin through all this turmoil, the man would have to answer to her.
She stopped, frowning as she reconsidered the threat. For some reason she didn’t picture Storm as a man who answered to anyone, let alone an irate woman who barely stood higher than his chin.
The doorbell rang, jarring her out of her skeptical thoughts. Jasmine jumped at the sound, her stomach knotting with unwanted tension. She took in a quick breath and released it with a whoosh, trying to relieve some of her pent-up anxiety. She was being ridiculous, she chided herself. Summer was the one who should be nervous, not her.
Speaking of whom…where was Summer? Jasmine glanced down the hall and saw no sign of her cousin. Swallowing hard at the lump of trepidation that had stuck in her throat, she forced herself to move. Her hand shook as she reached for the knob. Pasting a polite smile on her face, she opened the door to greet the newcomer.
Storm’s brooding scowl stopped her. With a quick glance that grazed her from head to toe, he demanded, “Where’s Summer? I was expecting your cousin, not you.”
Jasmine’s smile faded to a grimace. Through clenched teeth, she said, “Hello to you, too, Mr. Hunter. Your presence is as pleasant as usual.”
The sarcasm was lost on this stony-faced man. He half turned from the door, looking ready to escape. Given the choice, Jasmine had no doubt that he wouldn’t want to find himself alone with her. If he were, he just might have to explain his own imprudent behavior. As in, why he had kissed her, then run the day before.
Swinging his gaze back to her, he said impatiently, “Is Summer here or not?”
“Yes, she’s here. She’s putting the baby down for a nap.” Jasmine stepped away from the door, motioning for him to enter. “Won’t you come in, Mr. Hunter? I’m feeling a bit of a chill in the air.”
He ignored the jab. Instead he strode past her, without a second glance, leaving behind a familiar whiff of musky cologne. The scent triggered a sensory overload in Jasmine’s fickle mind, setting her nerve endings on instant alert, reminding her just how good it had felt to be held close in his arms. Oblivious to her wavering thoughts, he let his gaze travel around the living room, taking in the carpet, the painted stucco walls, and the framed photos of family scattered around. Wryly, she noted that he looked everywhere, but at her.
The silence lengthened between them, the tension in the room growing thicker by the second.
Jasmine crossed her arms at her waist, sent him an impudent glance and did nothing to lessen his unease. Admittedly she took an undeniably wicked pleasure in his discomfort. Considering his own rude behavior, she told herself, Storm was one man who deserved to squirm under pressure.
Summer breezed into the room. “Jasmine, I thought I heard the doorbell. Who was—” She stopped to stare at Storm, the look in her eye one of surprised uncertainty.
Jasmine felt a new surge of protectiveness at Summer’s presence. No matter how angry she might be at Storm, she refused to let her own feelings cause her cousin any awkwardness. She stumbled over an attempt to ease the situation. “Summer, this is your uncle…Storm Hunter. Storm, this is Summer.”
For a long moment neither Storm nor Summer spoke. They simply looked at each other, their gazes frank and assessing. There was no denying a resemblance. They shared the same high cheek bones, the large, dark brown eyes and the sculpted features. Summer had definitely inherited her dark beauty from the Hunter side of the family.
Summer was the first to find her voice. She gave her uncle a heart warming smile. “Welcome to my home, Storm.”
He gave a genuine smile in return. The transformation was remarkable, surprising Jasmine. The grim set of his face was softened by a tenderness she had no idea he was capable of showing. Grudgingly she acknowledged that perhaps there was reason to hope a caring man lived beneath that gruff exterior, after all.
“Won’t you sit down?” Summer asked, motioning in the direction of the couch.
“Yes, thank you,” Storm said. He took a seat. Then, frowning, he glanced meaningfully from his niece to Jasmine.
Taking the obvious hint, sensing that it was time for the two of them to be alone, Jasmine searched her mind for an excuse. “Why don’t I make us some tea?”
Summer turned a startled look her way.
Reaching out and squeezing her cousin’s arm, she murmured a brief reassurance before leaving the room. “I won’t be long. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.”
Summer nodded, still looking uncertain.
Jasmine lingered in the doorway. She waited long enough to see Summer take her seat next to her uncle on the couch. The smiles on both of their faces and the soft murmur of their voices eased her qualms. She had no reason to fear leaving Summer alone with Storm. He appeared as anxious as her cousin to make this initial meeting as comfortable as possible.
In the kitchen, she put the teakettle on a low heat, giving it ample time to boil. Gathering cups and saucers, she arranged a tray that would have made her mother proud. For good measure, she even threw in a plate of cookies that she’d found in the cupboard.
After several long minutes had passed, she returned to the living room to rejoin her cousin. From the expression on Summer’s face, the meeting was a success. She wore a look of utter joy, and her dark eyes glimmered with unshed tears of emotion.
Even Storm appeared moved by the encounter. His intense gaze never left Summer’s face. He seemed fascinated by everything she had to say. At the moment she was talking fondly of her husband, Gavin Night hawk.
“Gavin was so disappointed that he was unable to be here today. He’s anxious to meet you.”
Jasmine set the tray on the coffee table and began to fill the cups with tea.
“I’d like to meet him also,” Storm said, an undeniable ring of sincerity in his deep voice. “Perhaps we should arrange