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Authors: Janet Dailey
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As she climbed the front stairs, Sin and her father went into the study. After bathing, Mara put on a pair of camel tan slacks and a matching sweater with black and tan horizontal stripes. She used the rear staircase that opened into the kitchen. From the front of the house she could hear the muffled sound of male voices in conversation.
The coffeepot was empty, so she made a fresh pot. While the coffee perked, she put away the breakfast dishes she had left to dry on the draining board. When the coffee was finished, she poured herself a cup and sat down at the table. After the bath and change of clothes, a cup of coffee was all she needed to relax.
The door to the kitchen swung open before she had taken her first sip. The tension that she had fought so hard to remove threaded back through her nerves as Sin Buchanan walked into the room.
Minus the bulky jacket, his physique was still formidable. Even the rough weave of his sweater seemed in keeping with the raw vigor of his manliness. He paused inside the doorway, his gaze sweeping slowly over her. Mara felt his inspection as surely as if he had touched her.
"Was there something you wanted?" She was sitting rigidly in her chair, a charged alertness in her senses.
"Your father sent me in to ask if there was any coffee," Sin explained his presence in the kitchen, moving forward with a quietness that was surprising in a man his size.
The steaming cup of coffee on the table couldn't be overlooked any more than the aroma of fresh-perked coffee in the air. Mara found his level gaze difficult to meet. To avoid it, she rose from the table.
"Yes, there's coffee. I'll fix a tray and bring it in to you," she offered in a coolly unresponsive voice.
"There's no need for you to bring it in. I'll wait and carry it in myself." He came to the counter where Mara had placed a serving tray.
"It isn't necessary." She didn't want him waiting. She wanted him gone.
"Why should I walk back empty-handed?" Sin countered with infuriating logic.
Mara didn't pursue the argument as she began arranging the mugs on the tray. "I hope Adam hasn't bored you with a lot of talk about the Civil War."
She made the barbed comment for want of something to fill the silence. Her father rarely bored anyone; he had been born with the gift of charm. Even her mother had gone on loving him after he had deserted her for another woman. Mara suspected the only reason she was immune to him was that she was his daughter.
"I don't remember his mentioning anything about the Civil War," Sin remarked. When she set the sugar bowl and spoon on the tray, he reminded her, "I don't need any cream or sugar for my coffee, thank you."
"What have you found to talk about?" Mara reached into the cupboard for the insulated coffee server.
"Many things," was his ambiguous answer.
"Including me, I suppose." There was a bitter taste in her mouth as she said that.
Sin watched silently for a moment as she poured the hot coffee from the pot into the server. "What makes you think we would have discussed you?"
"Nothing. Forget I said it," Mara shrugged, angry with herself. She set the server on the tray. When Sin would have picked it up, she stopped him. "Just a minute. I'll put some cookies on a plate." Her father knew she had baked oatmeal raisin cookies yesterday and she suspected he would send Sin back to the kitchen if she didn't include some on the tray. But in defense of her action, she explained, "Adam has a sweet tooth."
"Why do you refer to your father by his given name?" The gray head was tipped at an inquiring angle, smoke-blue eyes studying her with disconcerting directness, "In almost every other respect, you seem typically old-fashioned."
"It's what I prefer to call him," was as much as Mara would say.
"And your reasons are private," he concluded.
"My reasons are between Adam and myself. That doesn't include outsiders." Her cool glance let him know exactly to which category he belonged.
"But it has something to do
The coffeepot was empty, so she made a fresh pot. While the coffee perked, she put away the breakfast dishes she had left to dry on the draining board. When the coffee was finished, she poured herself a cup and sat down at the table. After the bath and change of clothes, a cup of coffee was all she needed to relax.
The door to the kitchen swung open before she had taken her first sip. The tension that she had fought so hard to remove threaded back through her nerves as Sin Buchanan walked into the room.
Minus the bulky jacket, his physique was still formidable. Even the rough weave of his sweater seemed in keeping with the raw vigor of his manliness. He paused inside the doorway, his gaze sweeping slowly over her. Mara felt his inspection as surely as if he had touched her.
"Was there something you wanted?" She was sitting rigidly in her chair, a charged alertness in her senses.
"Your father sent me in to ask if there was any coffee," Sin explained his presence in the kitchen, moving forward with a quietness that was surprising in a man his size.
The steaming cup of coffee on the table couldn't be overlooked any more than the aroma of fresh-perked coffee in the air. Mara found his level gaze difficult to meet. To avoid it, she rose from the table.
"Yes, there's coffee. I'll fix a tray and bring it in to you," she offered in a coolly unresponsive voice.
"There's no need for you to bring it in. I'll wait and carry it in myself." He came to the counter where Mara had placed a serving tray.
"It isn't necessary." She didn't want him waiting. She wanted him gone.
"Why should I walk back empty-handed?" Sin countered with infuriating logic.
Mara didn't pursue the argument as she began arranging the mugs on the tray. "I hope Adam hasn't bored you with a lot of talk about the Civil War."
She made the barbed comment for want of something to fill the silence. Her father rarely bored anyone; he had been born with the gift of charm. Even her mother had gone on loving him after he had deserted her for another woman. Mara suspected the only reason she was immune to him was that she was his daughter.
"I don't remember his mentioning anything about the Civil War," Sin remarked. When she set the sugar bowl and spoon on the tray, he reminded her, "I don't need any cream or sugar for my coffee, thank you."
"What have you found to talk about?" Mara reached into the cupboard for the insulated coffee server.
"Many things," was his ambiguous answer.
"Including me, I suppose." There was a bitter taste in her mouth as she said that.
Sin watched silently for a moment as she poured the hot coffee from the pot into the server. "What makes you think we would have discussed you?"
"Nothing. Forget I said it," Mara shrugged, angry with herself. She set the server on the tray. When Sin would have picked it up, she stopped him. "Just a minute. I'll put some cookies on a plate." Her father knew she had baked oatmeal raisin cookies yesterday and she suspected he would send Sin back to the kitchen if she didn't include some on the tray. But in defense of her action, she explained, "Adam has a sweet tooth."
"Why do you refer to your father by his given name?" The gray head was tipped at an inquiring angle, smoke-blue eyes studying her with disconcerting directness, "In almost every other respect, you seem typically old-fashioned."
"It's what I prefer to call him," was as much as Mara would say.
"And your reasons are private," he concluded.
"My reasons are between Adam and myself. That doesn't include outsiders." Her cool glance let him know exactly to which category he belonged.
"But it has something to do
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