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Authors: Janet Dailey
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with the estrangement between the two of you." He watched her arrange the cookies on a plate. "Adam mentioned he was crippled in a car accident."
"Yes, that's right." Mara replaced the lid on the cookie jar.
"It's a pity that it had to happen to such a vital man," Sin commented.
"It's possible that he got what the deserved," she suggested, knowing how callous her comment sounded and not caring. And she didn't particularly care what he thought of her for saying it.
His gaze narrowed slightly. "Do you resent so much having to take care of him?"
"I don't have to take care of him, Mr. Buchanan. I chose to take care of him because he's the man who fathered me." There was a haughty air to the tilt of her chin.
"It would be perfectly natural for a young single woman to resent the demands on her free time to care for her crippled father, especially a young woman as beautiful as you," he commented.
"Compliments don't mean anything to me, Mr. Buchanan." She added the plate of cookies to the tray. "I've been around Adam too long not to have learned that they have little value beyond the moment they are spoken."
"You don't care much for your father, do you, Miss Prentiss?" It was a quiet accusation.
"Do you?" she returned.
"I haven't known him very long, but he strikes me as a likable, intelligent man," he stated.
"But you don't know him as well as I do" Mara replied, indicating that this was the only explanation she needed to give.
"Mara the bitter. You were appropriately named, weren't you?" he commented.
"Weren't you?" Mara suggested smoothly.
Laughter rolled from his throat in a low chuckle. "And I thought you were the type that turned the other cheek."
"We all make mistakes, Mr. Buchanan," she murmured.
The sounds of laughter faded, but it still glinted in his eyes. "Except you, Miss Prentiss?" An eyebrow lifted in mocking question.
Determined not to let the discussion continue any further, Mara picked up the coffee tray and turned to him. "I believe you said you would carry this into the study."
The full force of his gaze was directed at her. "Is the conversation becoming too much for you?" Sin guessed accurately.
"I'm tired of being a source of amusement for you." She didn't mince words in her answer, letting them be as cold and harsh as her anger.
"You take yourself and life too seriously," he chided, "You have to learn to laugh at things."
"There are too many things that I don't find very funny, Mr. Buchanan." Again, she offered him the tray. "If you aren't going to carry this in I
will."
Sin held her challenging look an instant longer before reaching for the tray. His tanned fingers naturally encountered hers as he took the tray handles from her grip. Their contact was hard and warm and brief. It seemed to leave an invisible imprint on her skin, because the sensation remained long after the contact was broken.
Alone again in the kitchen, Mara discovered her cup of coffee had become cold. She emptied it in the sink and refilled it from the pot. But she couldn't find the same contentment that had preceded Sin's entrance to the kitchen.
The house was too confining, made smaller by the voices of the two men in the study. The bright sunlight shining outside became more inviting. Mara would have preferred slipping out the back door, but her strong sense of duty wouldn't permit her to go for a walk without informing her father of her intention.
Taking her heavy plaid parka from its hook, she put it on and walked through the house to the parlor-turned-study. Sin was the first to see her when she appeared in the double doorway, but she avoided looking at him to direct her attention to Adam.
"I wanted you to know I'm going for a walk. I'll be back in an hour," she told him. "Would you like anything before I leave? More coffee?"
"Maybe some more cookies?" Adam suggested with a bright gleam in his eye. "Sin sampled them. They were very good, as usual."
"The cookies were good," Sin reaffirmed her father's
"Yes, that's right." Mara replaced the lid on the cookie jar.
"It's a pity that it had to happen to such a vital man," Sin commented.
"It's possible that he got what the deserved," she suggested, knowing how callous her comment sounded and not caring. And she didn't particularly care what he thought of her for saying it.
His gaze narrowed slightly. "Do you resent so much having to take care of him?"
"I don't have to take care of him, Mr. Buchanan. I chose to take care of him because he's the man who fathered me." There was a haughty air to the tilt of her chin.
"It would be perfectly natural for a young single woman to resent the demands on her free time to care for her crippled father, especially a young woman as beautiful as you," he commented.
"Compliments don't mean anything to me, Mr. Buchanan." She added the plate of cookies to the tray. "I've been around Adam too long not to have learned that they have little value beyond the moment they are spoken."
"You don't care much for your father, do you, Miss Prentiss?" It was a quiet accusation.
"Do you?" she returned.
"I haven't known him very long, but he strikes me as a likable, intelligent man," he stated.
"But you don't know him as well as I do" Mara replied, indicating that this was the only explanation she needed to give.
"Mara the bitter. You were appropriately named, weren't you?" he commented.
"Weren't you?" Mara suggested smoothly.
Laughter rolled from his throat in a low chuckle. "And I thought you were the type that turned the other cheek."
"We all make mistakes, Mr. Buchanan," she murmured.
The sounds of laughter faded, but it still glinted in his eyes. "Except you, Miss Prentiss?" An eyebrow lifted in mocking question.
Determined not to let the discussion continue any further, Mara picked up the coffee tray and turned to him. "I believe you said you would carry this into the study."
The full force of his gaze was directed at her. "Is the conversation becoming too much for you?" Sin guessed accurately.
"I'm tired of being a source of amusement for you." She didn't mince words in her answer, letting them be as cold and harsh as her anger.
"You take yourself and life too seriously," he chided, "You have to learn to laugh at things."
"There are too many things that I don't find very funny, Mr. Buchanan." Again, she offered him the tray. "If you aren't going to carry this in I
will."
Sin held her challenging look an instant longer before reaching for the tray. His tanned fingers naturally encountered hers as he took the tray handles from her grip. Their contact was hard and warm and brief. It seemed to leave an invisible imprint on her skin, because the sensation remained long after the contact was broken.
Alone again in the kitchen, Mara discovered her cup of coffee had become cold. She emptied it in the sink and refilled it from the pot. But she couldn't find the same contentment that had preceded Sin's entrance to the kitchen.
The house was too confining, made smaller by the voices of the two men in the study. The bright sunlight shining outside became more inviting. Mara would have preferred slipping out the back door, but her strong sense of duty wouldn't permit her to go for a walk without informing her father of her intention.
Taking her heavy plaid parka from its hook, she put it on and walked through the house to the parlor-turned-study. Sin was the first to see her when she appeared in the double doorway, but she avoided looking at him to direct her attention to Adam.
"I wanted you to know I'm going for a walk. I'll be back in an hour," she told him. "Would you like anything before I leave? More coffee?"
"Maybe some more cookies?" Adam suggested with a bright gleam in his eye. "Sin sampled them. They were very good, as usual."
"The cookies were good," Sin reaffirmed her father's
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