At First Sight. Tamara Sneed
pretend that you don’t exist and that I’m living in the lap of luxury on a small, deserted, primitive island,” Kendra continued as if Quinn had never spoken. “I suggest you do the same.”
“I don’t need or want your suggestions,” Quinn said, with a snort.
“Will you two stop it!” Charlie exploded. Both women turned to her with identical expressions of shock and a little guilt.
As usual, they had forgotten that there was a third Sibley sister.
“I’ve listened to you two argue and complain since six o’clock this morning, and I’m sick of it,” Charlie screamed, as tears of frustration, fatigue and chocolate deprivation filled her eyes. “I don’t know why Grandpa Max did this, but he did and we’re stuck here for the next two weeks. So, maybe we should try to use this time as an opportunity to get to know each other again. We are sisters. And with Grandpa Max dead, the three of us are it. There aren’t any more Sibleys. I don’t know about you two, but that scares me.”
Her sisters’ expressions grew guarded, and Charlie knew it wasn’t because she was waving the white flag. It was because she was close to crying, and the Sibley sisters did not cry, especially in front of each other.
In a characteristically un-Charlie Sibley move, she screeched in frustration and kicked the Jaguar’s rear tire.
She screamed in surprise as the heel on one of her shoes snapped, and she fell to the dirt in a heap of swirling dust. Both her sisters appeared frozen in place. Neither made a move to assist her. Not that Charlie had expected them to. She cursed, more from her annoyance with them than pain, even though her right foot was beginning to throb.
“That hurt,” Charlie muttered.
“Remind me never to make you angry,” drawled a deep, amused voice.
Charlie prayed that the owner of the voice did not look as gorgeous as he sounded. Judging from Quinn’s and Kendra’s slack-jawed expressions however, her prayers were not to be answered. She looked over her shoulder. And gulped.
Her gaze traveled from the dirt-covered genuine cowboy boots to the worn, well-fitted jeans that emphasized long, muscular legs. She gulped again at the slight bulge in his pants at the zipper then at the white T-shirt that settled over his flat stomach and emphasized finely muscled cinnamon-colored arms.
He wore a cowboy hat. A large charcoal-gray cowboy hat that shadowed the sharp lines and angles of his face. He had full lips, a strong nose and piercing brown eyes that were focused intently on her. His profile had probably been chiseled on a African coin.
Charlie wanted to kick the tire again because she realized that despite her supposed cynicism and analytical mind, she had just fallen in love at first sight. And judging from the sudden come-hither smiles that were fixed on Quinn’s and Kendra’s faces, she didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell.
Chapter 2
“Are you all right, ma’am?” the man spoke again in a deep, rumbling voice that slid down Charlie’s body to lodge like a ball of lead in her stomach.
When she didn’t respond, he took a step toward her, as if to help her stand. Charlie quickly stood to her feet, ignoring his outstretched large hand. The embarrassment flooded her face so quickly that she thought her body would incinerate. That would have been preferable to being subjected to the man’s direct, unflinching stare.
She averted her gaze to his right shoulder and noticed the black pickup truck parked at the mouth of the driveway. He must have driven up while she had been screeching at her sisters. Charlie was a twenty-nine-year-old grown woman who had a master’s degree in Art History, and who regularly gave lectures and presentations on varied subjects as a curator for the privately owned African-American Art Center in Los Angeles. In other words, she was an intelligent, successful, professional woman who shouldn’t have cared that a cowboy had seen her meltdown, but her heart slamming against her chest ignored her reasoned lecture and continued pounding.
“Charlie, you’re a mess. Let me help you,” Quinn said soothingly, as she quickly ran to her side.
Charlie watched in numb surprise as Quinn brushed the dirt off Charlie’s gray slacks. When Charlie saw the look Quinn sent the cowboy, Charlie wanted to strangle her.
“My poor sister is just frazzled after our long drive here,” Quinn said, with a flirtatious smile at the man, who Charlie noted with annoyance, sent a flirtatious smile back at her.
Not to be outdone by Quinn, Kendra stepped towards the man, her hand outstretched.
Kendra actually smiled as she purred, “Please tell me that you’re a resident of Sibleyville and not just a visitor.”
The man directed his thousand-watt smile at Kendra as he shook her hand. Charlie’s mood darkened when she noted that they held on to each other’s hands far longer than was appropriate.
“I’m a resident…for the moment. I live down the road,” he said, with the trace of a sardonic smile that made Charlie’s heart clog in her throat. He looked from Quinn to Kendra, skipping over Charlie. “I’m Graham Forbes, and you lovely ladies must be the Sibley sisters.”
“At your service,” Quinn murmured, as her gaze greedily drank him in from head to toe.
Charlie would have been embarrassed by Quinn’s boldness if she hadn’t been wishing she had the nerve to do and say the same thing.
“We heard you ladies were coming. Your grandpa’s lawyer asked us to turn on the power and lights, and we cleaned up the place as best we could…” His voice trailed off. Then he asked with a perplexed expression, “How long are you here for?”
Kendra took a few steps closer to the man. She planted her shapely legs in a wide stance and cocked her hip to one side like the pose of a glamorous model at the end of a catwalk. It would have been comical if she hadn’t looked so damn sexy.
“We’re here for two weeks. By the way, I’m Kendra Sibley, the oldest.”
Quinn quickly stepped next to Kendra and slightly bent forward, exposing the tops of her exquisite vanilla-tinted breasts. “And I’m Quinn, the youngest.”
Charlie knew it was her turn to step forward, but her legs felt too unsteady to consider operating them right now.
Besides, as with most men who stood within radius of the three sisters, Graham Forbes had forgotten that Charlie Sibley—the middle one, as she was more often known—existed.
“I didn’t expect you ladies to actually stay here, not with the state of this place. For a long time, we all thought that your grandpa had forgotten it,” he said, while nodding towards the house.
“Apparently, he did,” Kendra said, darkly, then flashed a smile at Graham. “But, we’re staying here. If it’s good enough for our grandfather, then it’s good enough for us. After his death, we figured what better way to feel closer to him and to understand him than to come to his childhood home. If it was just me, I could handle the dirt and rodents—I’ve dealt with worse vermin on Wall Street, but I don’t think my sisters can handle it. They’re not as accommodating as I can be.”
Charlie didn’t miss Kendra’s emphasis on the word accommodating. Judging from the amused and interested glint that entered Graham’s eyes he hadn’t either. Charlie wanted to smack them both.
“Kendra’s right. I’m not as hardy and masculine as her,” Quinn said, loudly, drawing Graham’s attention. Her voice softened to a bedroom whisper, as she said, “I’m more soft and open.”
Charlie couldn’t withhold her snort of disbelief. Apparently, it had also been a loud snort because all three turned to her. Charlie’s face burned with embarrassment once more as she tried to withstand the laser-sharp gaze of Graham Forbes. Against her will, her gaze dropped to his full lips. His lower lip was slightly more plump than the upper one.
She