A Mother for Cindy. Margaret Daley

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      So those were her new neighbors, staying in the Millers’ summer home.

      Jesse headed for her back door, rubbing the reddened area on her thigh. Everyone in Sweetwater knew to stay away from her backyard while Ethel and Fred were guarding their nest. They could be so fierce when their home was invaded.

      With all the activity at her own house, she’d forgotten about her new neighbors who’d moved in two days ago. She supposed she should bake them some cookies and welcome them to Sweetwater—oh, and warn them about her geese.

      Shaking her head, she stepped into her bright kitchen and came to a stop just inside the door. Her grandfather sat at the table, his gray hair sticking up at odd angles, a scowl on his face.

      “Those geese could wake the dead,” he muttered into his cup of coffee while taking some sips.

      “I’m sorry. I know you went to bed late last night. But someone was in our backyard. You know how they get with strangers.”

      Her grandfather’s head snapped up, and he regarded her with a pinpoint gaze. “Not the Hawthorne boys trying to steal their eggs again?”

      “Nope. Our new neighbors.” Jesse eased onto the chair next to her grandfather. “And I have to say I don’t think I made a very good first impression.”

      He peered at the clock over the stove. “It’s barely eight. Awfully early to be paying us a visit.”

      “I don’t think that’s what they were doing.”

      His bushy dark brows shot up. “What kind of neighbors do we have?”

      “Gramps, that’s what I intend to find out later this morning.”

      Several hours later at her neighbor’s house, Jesse pressed the bell and waited and waited. When the door finally swung open, she hoisted up the plate of chocolate chip cookies, as though it was a shield of armor, ready to give her welcoming spiel. The words died on her lips.

      The man from earlier filled the entrance with his large frame. He wore a sleeveless T-shirt and shorts that revealed muscular legs and arms. Sweat coated his body and ran down his face as he brought a towel up to wipe it away. When her gaze traveled up his length, power came to mind. Her survey came to rest on his face. Her smile of greeting vanished along with any rational thought.

      Earlier she hadn’t really had time to assess the man who had been partially hidden by his daughter. The impression of anger and the need to get the man and his daughter to safety had been all she had focused on. Now her attention was riveted to him. His rugged features formed a pleasing picture and only confirmed his sense of power—and danger. When she looked into those incredibly dark-brown eyes, she felt lost in a world only occupied by them.

      One of his brows arched. “Come to finish me off?”

      His deep, raspy voice broke the silence, dragging Jesse away from her thoughts, all centered around him. “No.” She swallowed several times. “No, I brought you and your family some cookies.” She thrust the plate at his chest, nearly sending her offering toppling to the porch at his feet.

      With a step back, he glanced down at the plate of cookies.

      “They’re chocolate chip,” she added, conscious of the fact that he was now staring at her. Not one hint at what was going on in his mind was revealed in his expression. “I wanted to welcome you to Sweetwater—properly.”

      Finally he smiled, deep creases at the corners of his eyes that glinted. The gesture curled her toes and caused her heart to pound a shade faster. My, what a smile! His wife sure was a lucky woman.

      “And earlier wasn’t a proper welcome?”

      “I’m sorry about not warning you concerning Fred and Ethel. Everyone knows to stay away from my backyard at this time of year. I meant to. But you know how it is. Time got away from me what with the order I needed to fill.” Realizing she was babbling, she clamped her mouth closed, trying not to stare at his potent smile that transformed his face.

      “Fred and Ethel are pets?”

      “I raised Fred after a pack of wild dogs got his mother and father. A friend gave me Ethel for Fred. He really can be a dear.”

      “A dear? I don’t think our definition of a dear is the same.”

      Despite his words, amusement sounded in his voice, and Jesse responded with a grin. “Well, not at this time when he’s playing he-goose. You know males and their territory.”

      The man laughed. “I suppose I do.” He took the plate and offered her his hand. “I’m Nick Blackburn and I’m sure my daughter and I will enjoy these cookies.”

      No wife? Jesse wondered, slipping her hand within his and immediately feeling a warmth flash up her arm from his brief touch. “I’m Jesse Bradshaw. Are you and your daughter going to be here long?”

      “Two months.”

      She remembered the little girl’s pale face and plea to her father. “Is your daughter okay?”

      “Cindy is happy as a lark now that she’s sitting in front of the television set watching her favorite show.”

      “How old is she? I have a son who just turned eight.”

      “She’ll be seven later this summer.” He stepped to the side. “Please come in.”

      When she’d come over to his house, she’d had no intention of staying. She still had that order to complete. “I’d better not. I can see I interrupted your exercises.”

      “Your interruption gave me a good reason to call it quits.”

      Again she looked him up and down, assessing those hard muscles that could only have come from a great deal of work. He had to exercise a lot or his body wouldn’t be in such perfect shape. She began to imagine him pumping iron, sweat coating his skin. When she peered into his face, she found him staring at her, and she blushed. She didn’t normally go around inspecting men.

      “Well, uh,” she stammered, searching her mind for something proper to say, “I’d like to say hello to your daughter and explain about Fred and Ethel.” Jesse stepped through the threshold into his house. She felt like Daniel going into the lion’s den, as though her life were about to change.

      “Would you like a cup of coffee or iced tea? I think Boswell made some yesterday.”

      “I’ll take a glass of iced tea if it’s not too much trouble.”

      He gave her a self-mocking grin. “I’m not great in the kitchen, but I believe I can pour some tea.”

      “Is your wife home?” Boy, that was about as subtle as a Mack truck running someone over.

      He turned and headed toward the back of the house, still limping slightly. “No, she died.”

      “Oh,” Jesse murmured, feeling an immediate kinship with her new neighbor. Her husband had been deceased for the past four years and she still missed him.

      She followed Nick into the kitchen and СКАЧАТЬ