Suddenly Home. Loree Lough

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СКАЧАТЬ suit was sure to have a positive effect. If he’d been in civilian clothes, talking plain talk, would the ladies have paid him a moment’s attention?

      Alex didn’t think so. And the dishonesty of it all had always bothered him.

      Talking with Taylor Griffith hadn’t been like that. Instead, the conversation had been smooth and easy. Maybe for no other reason than the honesty that had prompted her phone call, and his.

      He closed his eyes and rolled onto his side, remembering that sweet, lyrical voice.

      It didn’t surprise him when he had no desire to conjure up the image of his pretty Irish lass.

      The minute she was dressed and ready, Taylor called her uncle. “Ready for the ladies’ auxiliary brunch?” she teased.

      “Don’t rub it in,” he complained. “If it wasn’t for the fact that the money they’ll raise is for a good cause—”

      “Oh, Unc, you know you enjoy these functions.”

      He chuckled. “Says you.”

      “Says anybody who sees you.” She giggled. “You certainly look like you’re enjoying yourself, surrounded by ladies all the time.”

      “Yeah, well, I’d have a lot better time if they didn’t all have blue hair,” he added, laughing.

      “Well, at least you can always depend on great food.”

      Taylor heard him smack his lips. “That’s true,” he agreed.

      “I’ll be there by noon. That’ll give us plenty of time to get a good seat.”

      “Okay. See you then, kid—”

      The doorbell rang, interrupting his farewell. “Who’s that so early on a Sunday morning?” he demanded.

      “It’s five of ten,” she pointed out. “Hardly early.”

      “Well, don’t open that door till you’ve checked first to see who it is. Through the peephole, mind you. We’re not living in the world I grew up in,” he warned.

      “I’ll be careful,” she said as the bell rang a second time. “See you at noon.”

      After hanging up, she half ran to the foyer, and stood on tiptoe to peer through the peephole.

      A man, hands in his pockets, stood on the porch, staring across the street. Taylor opened the door as far as the chain lock would allow and spoke through the crack. “Yes?”

      When he turned, the sight of his wide, friendly smile made her wonder if it was possible for a human heart to burst through its rib cage.

      Because it was him, the man she’d nearly mowed over in the aisle of the plane.

      “Hi,” he said, removing his sunglasses. “Alex Van Buren.” He used the glasses to point at the porch floor. “I’ve got your suitcase?”

      “Oh. Yes. Of course.” She closed the door to unlatch the chain, then opened it again, wider this time. “Won’t you come in?”

      It was fairly obvious that he hadn’t gotten a clear view of her while the chain lock had been in place. But now, eyes wide and brows high on his forehead, he said, “No way.”

      She couldn’t help but smile at the coincidence. Couldn’t help but remember that he’d occupied most of her dreams last night, either.

      He lifted the bag as if it weighed no more than a gallon of milk. Taylor had packed the thing. She knew how heavy it was. Well, she told herself, he was tall and good-looking and strong. She grinned inwardly. But what were the chances he was single…and a Christian?

      Putting the bag at the bottom of the stairs, he noticed Barney. “Hey, there,” he said, crouching and extending his hand. “What’s the matter, cat got your tongue?”

      She was about to warn him that Barney did not take well to strangers when the cat rubbed its face against the man’s hand. A tremor of envy coursed through her. It had taken months before she’d earned that kind of affection from the cat.

      Blushing, Van Buren stood, pocketed his hands again. “Kids and animals…” he said haltingly, and shrugged. “What can I say?”

      Taylor surely didn’t know what to say, and so she said nothing.

      She caught him staring, and followed his gaze to see what had so thoroughly captured his attention. On the foyer table lay the church bulletin, where she’d circled the ladies’ auxiliary brunch in red. But why would he be interested in that?

      “Is that my suitcase?” he asked, nodding at the bag near the door.

      “Oh. Yes.” She clasped her hands in front of her. “I’m afraid I, ah, sort of messed things up inside, looking for some, um, identification. I hope you won’t mind that things aren’t quite as you left them.” Fact of the matter was, the muddled mess had driven her to distraction, and she’d dumped the whole thing out and repacked it, her way.

      He shot her a sideways glance, narrowed one brown eye. “You didn’t do my crossword puzzle, did you?”

      She grinned. “No. But only because I couldn’t find a red pen to match the one you’d been using.”

      “That’s too bad,” he said, winking, “’cause I can’t figure twenty-seven across to save my soul.”

      Taylor laughed. She was strangely drawn to this man, and didn’t quite know what to make of it. She glanced nervously at the face of the grandfather clock that stood beside the front door. She’d promised to pick up her uncle at noon. But first she needed to shower and—

      “Nice place,” he said, nodding approvingly. “Very homey.”

      “Homey” had been precisely the look she’d been going for when Taylor had begun decorating her house. Funny that no one before him had noticed.

      “I, ah, have an appointment this morning, or I’d invite you to stay for coffee, to thank you for coming all the way over here.”

      He unpocketed his hands, drove the right one through his hair, leaving wide finger tracks in the dark waves. “Oh. Sorry,” he muttered, grabbing his suitcase with one hand and the doorknob with the other. “Nothin’ worse than a guy who overstays his welcome.” He shrugged. “I’ll just be on my way.”

      In the doorway, he turned slightly and smiled. “Nice meeting you.” He hesitated, as if he wanted to say more. “Well, guess I’ll hit the road, then.”

      “Drive safely. You know how those Sunday-morning drivers can be.”

      Chuckling, he nodded. “Yeah. Crazy.” He clumped down the porch steps and across the flagstone path, then dumped the suitcase unceremoniously into the back of his minipickup. Snapping off a smart salute, he slid in behind the wheel. “See you,” he said, slamming the driver’s door.

      “See you,” she returned, waving. But her words were drowned out by the growl of his engine.

      Taylor’s СКАЧАТЬ