eyes, would alone have been enough to seriously impress. But Sam Sheridan didn’t stop there; his hair, streaky and sun-bleached, was just long enough to be interesting while the eyebrows were contrastingly dark and wonderfully expressive. His mouth was perfect. And as for the rest of the body . . . Having found herself in something of a sexual limbo recently, it made a nice change to be able to sit and admire such spectacular good looks. They might have got off to an unpromising start, she thought cheerfully, but who knew what might happen if Sam Sheridan were to move into what Kat had taken to calling ‘The Nunnery’?
‘I’ve been in Hawaii for the past month,’ he said. ‘Maybe he tried to contact me, and couldn’t.’ Then he glanced once more at Izzy and said, ‘But I still don’t know who you are.’
This was more like it, decided Izzy, running the fingers of her free hand through her rumpled curls in a casual manner. She grinned, suddenly.
‘I live here. We’re Gina’s new lodgers.’
‘We?’
‘My daughter, Katerina. But we’re almost completely housetrained,’ she added, catching his look of alarm. ‘And there’s no need to panic, I’m sure this house is big enough to cope with one more.’
She was older than he’d first thought, a woman rather than a girl. Sam, guessing her to be around thirty, nevertheless found it extraordinarily difficult to imagine her as a mother. She didn’t look like one. Furthermore, much as he liked children - in measured doses - he wasn’t at all sure he wanted to share a house with some screaming toddler who doubtless would be up at unearthly hours of the morning just when he most needed to be asleep.
‘I don’t know,’ he said, glancing at his watch. ‘Now that the situation’s changed I really think it might be better if I book into an hotel.’
At that moment they heard the front door open and close and Gina’s high heels clicking across the hall.
‘You talk to her,’ said Izzy, martialling her crutches and manoeuvring herself to her feet. ‘I’m sure she’d want you to stay. If you want me,’ she added with a provocative smile over her shoulder, ‘I’ll be in the kitchen. You aren’t a vegetarian, are you?’
‘No.’ She was weird, decided Sam. Beautiful, but definitely weird. ‘Why?’
‘I’m making a Stroganoff,’ explained Izzy patiently. ‘And since it’s your fault that it’s going to be late, the very least you can do is shoulder the blame and stay for dinner.’
Chapter 8
‘Oh Sam, how could he have done it to me?’ sniffed Gina over an hour later, dabbing at her mascara-smudged eyes with a sodden handkerchief, but knowing that the worst of the tears were over. Embarrassed at having broken down in front of him, but at the same time immensely comforted by his presence, she realised afresh what a good friend he had been to them both over the years. She’d always enjoyed his visits but this time his arrival was just what she needed. Sam, who could cheer anyone up more effectively than anybody else she knew, was on her side. And that knowledge strengthened her more than she’d imagined possible.
‘Men,’ said Sam, getting to his feet, ‘are notorious for not knowing what’s best for them. Sweetheart, I’m just going to see how Izzy’s getting on. That Stroganoff smells great and I’m starving.’
‘Don’t get your hopes up,’ said Gina waspishly. ‘Izzy’s cooking isn’t her strong point. The most ambitious meal she’s conjured up so far is fish-finger sandwiches.’
‘You aren’t Izzy,’ said Sam, entering the steam-filled kitchen and beginning to feel somewhat surreal. A tall girl with swinging, shoulder-length, sherry-brown hair was standing at the table, carefully tipping sautéd potatoes from a frying pan into a shallow blue dish. She looked up, unsurprised by the intrusion.
‘I’m Kat. Mum’s upstairs trying to have a
‘I’ve been in Hawaii for the past month,’ he said. ‘Maybe he tried to contact me, and couldn’t.’ Then he glanced once more at Izzy and said, ‘But I still don’t know who you are.’
This was more like it, decided Izzy, running the fingers of her free hand through her rumpled curls in a casual manner. She grinned, suddenly.
‘I live here. We’re Gina’s new lodgers.’
‘We?’
‘My daughter, Katerina. But we’re almost completely housetrained,’ she added, catching his look of alarm. ‘And there’s no need to panic, I’m sure this house is big enough to cope with one more.’
She was older than he’d first thought, a woman rather than a girl. Sam, guessing her to be around thirty, nevertheless found it extraordinarily difficult to imagine her as a mother. She didn’t look like one. Furthermore, much as he liked children - in measured doses - he wasn’t at all sure he wanted to share a house with some screaming toddler who doubtless would be up at unearthly hours of the morning just when he most needed to be asleep.
‘I don’t know,’ he said, glancing at his watch. ‘Now that the situation’s changed I really think it might be better if I book into an hotel.’
At that moment they heard the front door open and close and Gina’s high heels clicking across the hall.
‘You talk to her,’ said Izzy, martialling her crutches and manoeuvring herself to her feet. ‘I’m sure she’d want you to stay. If you want me,’ she added with a provocative smile over her shoulder, ‘I’ll be in the kitchen. You aren’t a vegetarian, are you?’
‘No.’ She was weird, decided Sam. Beautiful, but definitely weird. ‘Why?’
‘I’m making a Stroganoff,’ explained Izzy patiently. ‘And since it’s your fault that it’s going to be late, the very least you can do is shoulder the blame and stay for dinner.’
Chapter 8
‘Oh Sam, how could he have done it to me?’ sniffed Gina over an hour later, dabbing at her mascara-smudged eyes with a sodden handkerchief, but knowing that the worst of the tears were over. Embarrassed at having broken down in front of him, but at the same time immensely comforted by his presence, she realised afresh what a good friend he had been to them both over the years. She’d always enjoyed his visits but this time his arrival was just what she needed. Sam, who could cheer anyone up more effectively than anybody else she knew, was on her side. And that knowledge strengthened her more than she’d imagined possible.
‘Men,’ said Sam, getting to his feet, ‘are notorious for not knowing what’s best for them. Sweetheart, I’m just going to see how Izzy’s getting on. That Stroganoff smells great and I’m starving.’
‘Don’t get your hopes up,’ said Gina waspishly. ‘Izzy’s cooking isn’t her strong point. The most ambitious meal she’s conjured up so far is fish-finger sandwiches.’
‘You aren’t Izzy,’ said Sam, entering the steam-filled kitchen and beginning to feel somewhat surreal. A tall girl with swinging, shoulder-length, sherry-brown hair was standing at the table, carefully tipping sautéd potatoes from a frying pan into a shallow blue dish. She looked up, unsurprised by the intrusion.
‘I’m Kat. Mum’s upstairs trying to have a
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