Love In Plain Sight. Jeanie London

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      Making his way down the stairs carefully, clumsily, he clung to the banister for support while trying not to drop his cane, his leg making each step dangerous. With his luck, he’d fall and land on his damned head, and Vince would finally convince their mother to turn the downstairs office into an invalid’s bedroom complete with hospital bed. Of course, if Marc had any real luck, the fall might kill him. He would have been okay with that, too.

      By the time he made his way to the last step, he was forced to stop and give his leg a break. The house was quiet, which was a good thing because another hour and everyone and their brother would show up for dinner. He needed caffeine before he could decide whether to contend with a shower and civilized company, or be uncivilized and hide in his room.

      Either one meant tackling the stairs again.

      From the hallway, he saw his mother in front of the sink. She must have heard him because she turned. For a split second, her expression told him that watching him hurt. Even placing his body weight on one side didn’t do a thing to minimize the pain of the leg he nearly dragged along. Throw in the fact that he was still half-drugged, and he must look like hell.

      She quickly masked her reaction with a smile. “Good morning, sunshine.” Grabbing a mug from the drain board, she headed toward the coffeepot. “We have company.”

      “There’s a surprise,” he shot back, deadpan.

      Moving into the kitchen, he found their guest standing over the table chopping vegetables on a cutting board.

      She met his gaze with gray eyes so clear they were almost startling. Or maybe it was the onions she was chopping that made her eyes seem so bright. He could smell them from here.

      “Hola, Mac’s sister.”

      “Hi, Marc,” was all she said, her smile forced.

      “You remember Courtney,” his mother prompted, narrowing her gaze so he knew she didn’t like his rudeness.

      Courtney Gerard was more than one of his mother’s strays. Courtney had a family connection—not blood but close enough that he should have known her name.

      He remembered a lot more than her name.

      Courtney was Marc’s Bathsheba. The exact type of woman who managed to catch his eye whether he was interested in her or not. Everything about her was long, from her willowy body and shapely legs to the glossy hair that flowed in an inky wave down her back. He remembered her all right, and it annoyed the hell out of him every time he saw her.

      Which was every time he came home.

      His mother pressed a mug of coffee into his hands, and he thanked her, leaning against the archway. He wouldn’t give the ladies a show by sitting down. Not when he wasn’t staying. The stairs were looking a helluva lot better than this kitchen right now. Half draining the mug in one swallow, he savored the heat that seared his throat.

      His mother arched an eyebrow but didn’t comment. She also didn’t return the coffeepot.

      He held the mug out. “You’re an angel, love.”

      She topped him off, and he sipped again to make more room. He had to drink his fill now because he couldn’t make it up the stairs with the mug.

      “Would you like something to eat? Anthony brought doughnuts from Nicola’s before church. There are still a few left.”

      “Doughnuts can’t possibly touch whatever it is you’re cooking over there. I’ll wait until dinner.”

      That pleased her. All the sharp edges smoothed from her expression. All the disapproval gone as fast as it had shown up. Like a good Italian mama, feeding people always made her day.

      She retrieved a colander hanging from the rack on the wall and brought it to the table, where Courtney cleared onions off the cutting board. “We’ve been chatting about Courtney’s work,” his mother said. “I’d like you to weigh in.”

      Marc could smell the setup from a mile away. He could sense it before Courtney even opened her mouth, a full mouth with dusky pink lips that made him think of kissing. And sex.

      This woman needed to go home.

      Or he needed to get back to Colorado.

      “Wish I could, but I’ve really got to shower. I’m off to a late start if you want me for dinner.”

      His mother frowned, and in two quick steps, she was at the counter again, grabbing the coffeepot.

      “Finish this up, so I can brew a fresh pot.” She cut him off at the pass, wedging herself between him and the doorway.

      “Won’t take long, Marc. I promise.” Courtney’s voice was as crystal clear as her gaze, direct and to the point, yet still somehow smoky. Like sex. A voice that would sound good in the dark. “I’d like to get your input if you don’t mind.”

      He did mind. She was suddenly twitchy, almost urgent. Then she opened that pretty mouth and launched into a sob story about missing kids and a federal investigation.

      Marc wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but if he had been guessing, this train wreck of a situation wouldn’t have even made the list.

      Marc was sure he’d once heard what she did for a living, because he remembered thinking she had the luxury of making herself feel good by trying to save the world. Great in theory, but he knew too many people who empowered themselves at the expense of others. He didn’t respect the motivation.

      Or maybe he just didn’t like Courtney.

      He damn sure didn’t like her brother or the way he had used his money to steal Anthony’s longtime girlfriend, Harley.

      Or maybe Marc didn’t like how he noticed Courtney. She looked like everything he wanted, but she wasn’t anything he was interested in. He was honest enough to admit that to himself.

      Whatever the reason, he had his own no-win situation to deal with right now.

      “No matter how I spin it, the outlook is grim,” he said, hoping to put a swift end to this interrogation. “If this kid hasn’t surfaced in eight years, the chances of finding her alive are not good.”

      “But you do think it is possible to track her down, Marc, so at least we’d know what happened to her?”

      God, he shouldn’t feel anything, but that look on her face... She was desperate, and he couldn’t offer much hope. “No one vanishes into thin air, but with kids, there is the unforeseeable luck factor. Freaks and traffickers prey on them. Or some random wacko may have taken a liking to her, and she wound up a nut job’s thrill. The FBI will find your Jane Doe, just a matter of time, but no one may ever know what happened to your other girl.”

      To Courtney’s credit, she took reality standing. No drama. No tears. No pleas for him to sugarcoat the truth. Just that lovely face growing brittle around the edges as she struggled to cling to a last bit of hope, no matter how unrealistic.

      “Wish I had a better opinion. Good luck.” He tried to make his escape.

      But by the time he’d set down the cup and gotten СКАЧАТЬ