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Authors: Diana Palmer
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about that ballet?” he asked
Kit hesitated. “I really don’t feel quite up to it, but thanks any-way. Maybe Tansy and Logan…?” “Not me,” Logan replied.
“Oh, well, maybe next trip,” Emmett said. He winked at Kit. “If you married me, we could go to all sorts of cultural events.”
“Right now, we’re going to look at kittens and kids, thanks,” Logan told him, taking Kit’s arm. “Come along.”
“Okay, I get the picture,” Emmett said. He tipped his hat at Kit and strode away, whistling. “I don’t want to go anywhere with you,” Kit snarled at Logan,
He let go of her arm and linked his big hands behind him to study her. He was wearing a long-sleeved white shirt and tie with his dark gray suit slacks. The shirtsleeves were rolled up to the elbow and he was wearing boots instead of street shoes. His dark, thick black hair was windblown and it gave his broad face an untamed appearance. Against the sky, he looked as if he were part of the history of the place. “Who were your ancestors?” she asked unexpectedly.
“One of them was a lieutenant under Santa Ana,” he mused, smiling at her shock. “You did know that the enemy troops sometimes raped and pillaged in the local communities? One of my ancestors was unfortunate enough to be in a house alone when they marched through. Along with the Mexican blood, I’ve got some very upper crust French and British.”
The Case of the Missing Secretary351
It was a reminder that his background was much more monied than her own. She averted her eyes as they walked. “You’re very dark.”
“Most of that is from the sun. I spend a lot of time in the Med-iterranean,” “Yes, I know.”
He followed her toward the barn. It was warm for a November day. She pulled off her sweater and left her arms bare in the long-sleeved white shirt she was wearing with off-white jeans and boots.
“You look pretty western today,” he remarked. “Didn’t you live on a ranch once?” She winced. “A long time ago. Look, there are the children…!” He caught her arm and swung her back to face him. “Your parents divorced, didn’t they?” he said quietly.
He knew. She’d never been quite sure where he found out, or who had told him. She did know that her job required a thorough background check, and that he’d had one done before Dane’s detective agency even opened for business.
Whoever had searched around in her record had certainly hit pay dirt. She didn’t even bother to deny it. His eyes told her there was no point.
“It was a very messy divorce,” she said averting her eyes. “They were arguing all the time. I don’t like to remember those days. They both remarried after the divorce, but they only had a few years with their new spouses. Both my parents are dead now.”
He pulled her into his big arms. She was warm and soft and vulnerable, and he loved the feeling it gave him to comfort her. That should have warned him that his emotions were teetering on the edge, but it didn’t.
Here, now,” he muttered. He drew out a handkerchief and dabbed at her red, wet eyes with it. “Blow.” She did, hiccuping at the same time. “I never cry.” “I know. Not even when I yell.” He wiped the rest of her face and pressed the handkerchief into her hand. “Keep it. I’ve got dozens. Tansy has them hidden in every other drawer in my house. She thinks a man should have an endless supply.”
352
Diana Palmer
“Why do you always call her Tansy instead of Mother?” she asked curiously.
“She doesn’t seem old enough to be my mother at times,” he replied with a wistful smile. “She’s unique. Not that she doesn’t worry me out of my damned mind just by being unique.” “Not every woman her age would try sailboarding.”
“This is true.” He pushed back the disheveled hair from her eyebrows. “You have skin like milk, Kit,” he said, sketching her cheekbones. “It’s almost transparent.” She flushed. “My mother…my
Kit hesitated. “I really don’t feel quite up to it, but thanks any-way. Maybe Tansy and Logan…?” “Not me,” Logan replied.
“Oh, well, maybe next trip,” Emmett said. He winked at Kit. “If you married me, we could go to all sorts of cultural events.”
“Right now, we’re going to look at kittens and kids, thanks,” Logan told him, taking Kit’s arm. “Come along.”
“Okay, I get the picture,” Emmett said. He tipped his hat at Kit and strode away, whistling. “I don’t want to go anywhere with you,” Kit snarled at Logan,
He let go of her arm and linked his big hands behind him to study her. He was wearing a long-sleeved white shirt and tie with his dark gray suit slacks. The shirtsleeves were rolled up to the elbow and he was wearing boots instead of street shoes. His dark, thick black hair was windblown and it gave his broad face an untamed appearance. Against the sky, he looked as if he were part of the history of the place. “Who were your ancestors?” she asked unexpectedly.
“One of them was a lieutenant under Santa Ana,” he mused, smiling at her shock. “You did know that the enemy troops sometimes raped and pillaged in the local communities? One of my ancestors was unfortunate enough to be in a house alone when they marched through. Along with the Mexican blood, I’ve got some very upper crust French and British.”
The Case of the Missing Secretary351
It was a reminder that his background was much more monied than her own. She averted her eyes as they walked. “You’re very dark.”
“Most of that is from the sun. I spend a lot of time in the Med-iterranean,” “Yes, I know.”
He followed her toward the barn. It was warm for a November day. She pulled off her sweater and left her arms bare in the long-sleeved white shirt she was wearing with off-white jeans and boots.
“You look pretty western today,” he remarked. “Didn’t you live on a ranch once?” She winced. “A long time ago. Look, there are the children…!” He caught her arm and swung her back to face him. “Your parents divorced, didn’t they?” he said quietly.
He knew. She’d never been quite sure where he found out, or who had told him. She did know that her job required a thorough background check, and that he’d had one done before Dane’s detective agency even opened for business.
Whoever had searched around in her record had certainly hit pay dirt. She didn’t even bother to deny it. His eyes told her there was no point.
“It was a very messy divorce,” she said averting her eyes. “They were arguing all the time. I don’t like to remember those days. They both remarried after the divorce, but they only had a few years with their new spouses. Both my parents are dead now.”
He pulled her into his big arms. She was warm and soft and vulnerable, and he loved the feeling it gave him to comfort her. That should have warned him that his emotions were teetering on the edge, but it didn’t.
Here, now,” he muttered. He drew out a handkerchief and dabbed at her red, wet eyes with it. “Blow.” She did, hiccuping at the same time. “I never cry.” “I know. Not even when I yell.” He wiped the rest of her face and pressed the handkerchief into her hand. “Keep it. I’ve got dozens. Tansy has them hidden in every other drawer in my house. She thinks a man should have an endless supply.”
352
Diana Palmer
“Why do you always call her Tansy instead of Mother?” she asked curiously.
“She doesn’t seem old enough to be my mother at times,” he replied with a wistful smile. “She’s unique. Not that she doesn’t worry me out of my damned mind just by being unique.” “Not every woman her age would try sailboarding.”
“This is true.” He pushed back the disheveled hair from her eyebrows. “You have skin like milk, Kit,” he said, sketching her cheekbones. “It’s almost transparent.” She flushed. “My mother…my
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