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Family of Three
Julianna Morris
A ROMANTIC FORCE OF ONE…Alysia McKenna believed in love at first sight–it was the reason she'd leased the Reynolds family house. Finally she had a place to call home.AN IRRESISTIBLE FORCE OF TWO…Jacob Reynolds believed in the power of family–he would do anything for his daughter. Even share his old family house with a beautiful, outrageous woman.IT'S A FAMILY OF THREE.Alysia agreed to let Jacob and Tracy share her home–temporarily. But soon love at first sight struck again. Now no power on earth could keep them from becoming a family.



Table of Contents
Cover Page (#u15338886-fed1-5183-93c0-27298512f62c)
Excerpt (#ua5005cb5-7c37-5076-a11c-d16689d75be6)
Dear Reader (#ucfece45e-90f5-5f8b-b3fc-5a6a9350beed)
Title Page (#u4e9329de-5252-5e0f-be1a-4473ea48449c)
Dedication (#u0f6f6c53-4de4-5a33-9cec-16fb4bf29227)
About the Author (#ua6de0f58-bf21-57dd-abc2-ef2759f71719)
Prologue (#u9755c82f-5c85-5228-8464-4b4c08061287)
Chapter One (#ue5c79f5f-7a92-5226-8358-9c10442945dc)
Chapter Two (#uc5afb5aa-5fd0-5c1e-b429-21dc60aed17b)
Chapter Three (#u8631dde5-da92-5432-8c5a-acf8e4a493dc)
Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

“You’re sending mixed signals, Alysia,”
Jacob murmured.

She forced herself to release her hold on him. “Not…intentionally. You caught me by surprise, that’s all.”

“It just goes to prove our curiosity wasn’t satisfied.”

“What?”

“Remember yesterday.?” He laughed indulgently. “I kissed you, then you returned the favor?”

Her mind formed a round O. Of course she remembered. She’d have to be dead not to. “Well…this time it was mutual. We just finished covering the possibilities.”

“Not all the possibilities, Miss McKenna.”
Dear Reader,

From classic love stories to romantic comedies to emotional heart tuggers, Silhouette Romance offers six irresistible novels every month by some of your favorite authors—and some sure to become favorites. Just look at the lineup this month:

In Most Eligible Dad, book 2 of Karen Rose Smith’s wonderful miniseries THE BEST MEN, a confirmed bachelor becomes a FABULOUS FATHER when he discovers he’s a daddy.
A single mother and her precious BUNDLE OF JOY teach an unsmiling man how to love again in The Man Who Would Be Daddy by bestselling author Marie Ferrarella.
I Do? I Don’t? is the very question a bride-to-be asks herself when a sexy rebel from her past arrives just in time to stop her wedding in Christine Scott’s delightful novel.
Marriage? A very happily unmarried police officer finally says ‘I do” in Gayle Kaye’s touching tale Bachelor Cop.
In Family of Three by Julianna Morris, a man and a woman have to share the same house—with separate bedrooms, of course….
Debut author Leanna Wilson knows no woman can resist a Strong, Silent Cowboy—and you won’t be able to, either!
I’d love to know what you think of the Romance line. Are there any special kinds of stories you’d like to see more of, less of? Your thoughts are very important to me—after all, these books are for you!

Sincerely,

Melissa Senate,
Senior Editor
Please address questions and book requests to:
Silhouette Reader Service
U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269
Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont L2A 5X3

Family of Three
Julianna Morris


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Dad, you taught me the music of words, the poetry of a loving heart and the need to reach for a star. Though you are gone, your inspiration will always be with me. I love you.

JULIANNA MORRIS
has an offbeat sense of humor, which frequently gets her into trouble. She is often accused of being curious about everthing…her interests ranging from’oceanography and photography to traveling, antiquing, walking on the beach and reading science fiction. Choosing a college major was extremely difficult, but after many changes she earned a bachelor’s degree in environmental science.

Julianna’s writing is supervised by a cat named Gandalf, who sits on the computer monitor and criticizes each keystroke. Ultimately, she would like a home overlooking the ocean, where she can write to her heart’s content—and Gandalf’s malcontent. She’d like to share that home with her own romantic hero, someone with a warm, sexy smile, lots of patience and an offbeat sense of humor to match her own. Oh, yes.and he has to like cats.

Prologue (#ulink_850f125c-cf55-5dd3-a349-a0280d0f9181)
One Hundred Years Ago
Captain James Reynolds looked up from his journal and swore tiredly. Through the window he could see his wife, standing on the bluff and gazing out to sea. The wind swept her gown around her, accentuating the womanly curves of her body, heavy with his child. His manhood swelled, though her birthing time was too near to allow his passion freedom.
They had fought again. A bitter, angry battle. She wanted to travel on his ship, taking part in his business. But it was insane. The sea was unpredictable. He could not guarantee her safety, though he would give his life in keeping harm from her.
From their first meeting he’d been a man possessed. Her eyes enthralled him—mysterious, shifting, changing like the ocean, holding all the secrets he had ever dreamt of knowing. She had led him a merry chase, yet he couldn’t help loving her.
James lifted his pen. I understand her less now than ever, he wrote, pouring out his frustration and despair. If she was jealous, if she suspected me of being unfaithful, then I would understand. But she knows I would never betray our love. Were she not so sure it might be better. My beautiful lady, can you not be happy? Am I not enough for you, as you are for me?
James stared at the page. He could only hope. In time, she might find happiness with him.
The Astoria settlement was rocked by the news—the wife of Captain Reynolds had deserted him for another man, leaving behind her infant son and stealing her husband’s fortune.
Consumed by hatred, James obliterated his wife’s memory. No man or woman dared speak her name, except a stubborn midwife who swore Mrs. Reynolds would never have left her husband and child. But no one listened.
In the harsh silence of the fine house he’d built for their love, James taught his son to distrust women. to look for a meek, docile bride who wouldn’t tempt the soul from his heart and body.
The years passed. Tales of a ghost were deliciously spread. The unfaithful wife had been punished for her sins and was doomed to walk the sea cliffs in eternal damnation.
And in time, a grandson, and then a great-grandson were born.

Chapter One (#ulink_3036461a-5b49-5f2f-9e54-ade502f0f717)
The Present
“Stupid thing. Won’t fit…blasted…ouch!”
A series of mumbled curses came from under the sink. Two slender legs extended out from the cabinet, and a toolbox lay open with its contents scattered. A well-worn book on plumbing was propped open until the legs knocked against it and the volume fell forward in a heap.
A brown tiger-striped cat sat on its haunches, listening to his human mutter. From time to time he added his own “merowit” to the litany. Abruptly, one of the woman’s feet raised and kicked, and the startled feline jumped straight into the air. With a practiced air of caution, he sniffed the offending foot and meowed.
“Sorry, Captain,” Alysia said breathlessly.
The Captain raised his right paw and licked it. His life was untroubled by such mundane considerations as plumbing.
Another splat of dirty water hit Alysia in the eye. “Jacob Reynolds,” she swore, “I’m going to get even with you.”
Revenge was going to be heaped on the man’s head. She’d been swearing the same thing each day since she signed the three-year lease on his dilapidated house and property. She was definitely going to get even with him.
“Right?” she asked the enormous feline. He stared at her in his sphinx pose and didn’t answer. She grinned.
Abruptly, a loud knocking came from the front of the house, along with the trill of door chimes. Alysia scooted out, wiped her face with her left arm, then adjusted the sling around the plaster cast on her right wrist. She’d had it. Budget or not, she was calling a plumber. A real one. The knocking continued as she hurried to the foyer.
“Just a minute,” she called. Through the beveled-glass inserts of the door she saw a tall man with cool gray eyes and a determined face. “Jeez, another tourist,” she grumbled, even as her heart skipped unaccountably.
Dark and sexy. He looked familiar, but she wasn’t sure why. In spite of his forbidding expression, there was something appealing about the cleft in his chin, and the tiny lines at the corners of his eyes and mouth. Worry? Laughter? Pain? Her instant attraction to him wasn’t logical, but Alysia rarely concerned herself with logic.
“It’s about time,” the man snapped as the door swung open.
She stretched her five-foot-seven-inch frame to its full height. “The shop isn’t open. Didn’t you read the sign?” Alysia realized she should be more diplomatic, but she didn’t like pushy tourists—even if this one did send flickers of awareness jitterbugging through her veins.
“What shop?”
Her fingers gripped the door. Was he as smart as he looked? Or just a sexy moron? “Down there, it’s called the Captain’s Lair.” She pointed to the large structure, actually an old converted barn, which sat just off the road at the foot of the hill.
“You mean you’ve got some kind of shop in there?”
“It’s an antique store.” She gave in to temptation and shoved the door. Unfortunately, a large male foot obstructed the way. Her only consolation was the wince of pain crossing his bad-tempered face. “Get out of here,” she cried when he pushed inside. “This is my house.”
“Correction.” He whipped around. “This is my house, and I want to know what you’re doing here, and why my key won’t work.”
Startled, Alysia pushed a mass of sun-streaked hair from her forehead. Surely this couldn’t be Jacob Reynolds? The source of her daily frustration? The perpetually unavailable landlord who never returned calls or answered letters? Whose lawyer sounded nice, but put up roadblocks the size of Mount Everest?
Then it struck her. No wonder he seemed familiar—he looked just like the painting of Captain James Reynolds hanging in the study. The first time she’d seen the painting Alysia had felt an odd flash of recognition, and it came stronger now that she was face-to-face with his descendent. They shared the same look of self-assurance, the same authoritative bearing…and the same sensual shape to their lips. The biggest difference was that Captain Reynolds possessed a devil-may-care glint in his pirate’s eyes that his great-grandson decidedly lacked.
“Jacob Reynolds, I presume?” she said with a smile.
“Yes. And answer my questions.”
Alysia laughed. This was going to be fun. “I’m pleased to meet you. I’ve always believed tenants and landlords should get to know one another.”
Jacob’s eyes narrowed. He wasn’t anybody’s landlord. She was trespassing on his property, and he wanted her out. Besides, the way she’d said landlord sounded like an insult. Yet…he hesitated. Her green eyes seemed transparently honest and her manner was direct, without the usual feminine coyness.
“Look, I don’t know what kind of scam you have going, but I suggest you leave.” The woman laughed again and he tightened his fists. All his doubts, all his dislike of the old house, came rushing back. Only the knowledge that his fragile young daughter waited in the car kept him from returning to Portland and calling the proper authorities to handle the situation.
“But I have an unbreakable lease.as your lawyer, Matt Braeden, has pointed out numerous times. How could I leave? I mean, how could I want to leave the antiquated plumbing and wiring, not to mention the leaky roof and falling plaster?”
“You can’t have a lease. This was my grandparents’ home and I would never rent it.” Jacob thrust his fingers through his black hair in agitation.
“You certainly did. I’ll show you a copy.” Wheeling around, Alysia marched down the hall and into a side room.
Jacob followed, noticing the paneling on the study walls appeared to have been cleaned—he hadn’t remembered the wood having such a rich patina. He also noticed the woman’s jeans were a snug fit in the backside—the worn fabric molded her curves in a way he couldn’t help but notice.
She yanked a sheaf of papers from a drawer in the captain’s desk and waved it in front of his face. He groaned when he saw the signature. He must have signed the lease in the confused weeks after Tracy’s accident. “Miss—” he checked the name beside his own “—Miss McKenna, this is a mistake.”
“Oh?” She didn’t look particularly sympathetic.
“Yes. I own some other property down the coast, and I thought a dairy farmer wanted to use the land for pasture. It never occurred to me the lease was for the house. You see, I brought my mother and daughter down with me. We’re planning to stay for a while.”
“Really? Where are you going to stay?”
“Here,” he exploded. “This is my house.”
Alysia plucked the document from his hands and surveyed it with a great deal of satisfaction. She was nothing if not stubborn. An hour ago she would have shredded the lease with a sigh of relief. Now she was determined to re main. “This is a legal contract saying it’s mine for the next three years.”
“I’ll buy you out of it.”
“Not interested.”
“I’ll pay you double,” Jacob insisted, resisting the urge to wring the woman’s neck. He abhorred violence, but he’d been through too much during the past few months: doctors, hospitals, hopes raised, hopes crushed, his daughter suffering and discouraged. They desperately needed a change.
“I’m not interested,” she repeated. “I like it, even if it is falling apart. Don’t you care about this place at all? How can you let it fall down around your ears?”
“It isn’t falling down,” Jacob denied, his pride stung by her obvious contempt. And it couldn’t be true. He paid a realty company to check the place regularly and do cleaning. They would have notified him about damages. He explained this fact in clipped tones.
“Sure.” She tossed her head. “They probably came in twice a year and dusted. I also found about a million stupid mousetraps all over the house baited with petrified cheese. No self-respecting mouse would have gone near them.”
“But the yard. it’s in great condition.”
“No thanks to your maintenance company. It needed a lot of work, but it’s been worth it. I just love flowers, don’t you?” she said enthusiastically. “I can’t get much of a vegetable garden started in this climate, but the flowers are fantastic.”
He recalled a brief impression of numerous flower beds and boxes around the house and barn. The overall effect was charming, and Jacob had been pleased by the extra effort made by the caretakers. Now it appeared the realty company wasn’t responsible. “I think you’re exaggerating.”
“Oh no, they’re doing great. Didn’t you see my lobelia and those big, fat petunias?”
“I mean about the house!” From the twitching at the corner of her mouth, Jacob guessed she’d known what he meant. Brat. He swallowed his own flash of amusement. The last thing he needed was to start liking this woman.
“Exaggerating? Just come with me.” Alysia didn’t even check to see if he was following. She began listing the various problems plaguing the crumbling structure, her ire growing with the inventory. She couldn’t believe somebody would neglect such a beautiful old place. His family home no less!
“Did you say dry rot?” he interrupted.
She spun around and poked her finger in his chest. Despite her respectable height he still towered over her. “Yes, dry rot. It’s only affected the north side, but the flooring needs to be replaced in at least two rooms, maybe a third.”
“I don’t believe you.”
Alysia pushed him into the rear parlor and pointed to the gaping hole in the center of the ceiling. “Seeing is believing.”
“When did that happen?”
“Unfortunately, when I was standing on the floor above it,” she said with a dry note. His eyes widened and focused on the plaster cast adorning her right arm. “Exactly,” Alysia informed him. “I’m lucky I didn’t break my neck.”
“I’m really sorry,” Jacob said remorsefully. “You could have been killed. I didn’t know. I’ll pay for the damages. I mean, your doctor bills and such.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “Aren’t you worried about being sued?”
Everyone reaches a point when they’ve been pushed too hard, for too long. Jacob had been at that point for months. “Go ahead,” he snapped. They glared at each other.
If the woman wanted to sue his pants off, who cared? There were plenty of lawyers to handle that sort of thing. And thinking of lawyers, he was going to have a word with Matt Braeden about leasing his house to such an obnoxious, abrasive, irritating and graceless female. She was a disaster. The holes in her clothes revealed more skin than they covered—ragged jeans, a sweatshirt stretched and worn beyond all recognition, bare feet and a filthy face. No wonder she had fallen through the ceiling. She was such a mess she couldn’t have done anything else!
“Jacob?” a voice cut through the tension. “Where are you?”
They glared another few moments, then he straightened, taking a few deep breaths. They didn’t help. “In here, Mother.”
“Goodness.” The tall, pleasant-faced woman gazed up at the jagged hole. “How did that happen?”
“Ask Miss McKenna,” Jacob said, stomping out of the room.
As the sound of his cursing faded, Alysia looked with interest at this new person. “Hi, I’m Alysia.”
The older woman smiled, diminishing the worry clouding her eyes. “Jacob can be rude, but he doesn’t mean anything by it,” she said. “My name is Grace Kirkland.” She pointed to the hole in the ceiling. “So, what’s the story. or do I want to know?”
That made Alysia laugh, though the memory wasn’t really funny. “It happened when I fell through from the floor above. The floor sort of trembled and all at once I was flying through the air. I don’t know what hurt worse…my arm, or my pride.”
“Miss McKenna?” growled a now-familiar male voice.
“Mr. Reynolds! I didn’t hear you storm back in.”
He pulled a pen from his pocket and focused on an object in his hand. “I’m writing you a very generous check. We’ll stay in a motel while you move your belongings.” He tore the slip of paper from the book.
Without even reading the numbers he’d written, Alysia ripped the check into several small pieces. Before, she’d been annoyed with him—but not really, truly angry. Now she was livid. What nerve! Stalking forward she dropped the pieces into his breast pocket. “The answer was no, Mr. Reynolds.”
“You can’t insist on sticking to the lease.”
“I’ll stick to it, and you will, too.”
“What lease?” Grace asked calmly.
“The one your son and I both signed and had notarized,” Alysia explained with relish.
Reynolds groaned and started to sink into the nearest seat. She snatched his arm and jerked him upright. “What?”
“Don’t touch anything.”
“You mean I can’t sit down in my own house? I own every stick of furniture in the room.”
“No,” she said impatiently. “I mean, it needs to be restored. Everything in the house needs work. If you sit on that Queen Anne chair you’ll turn it into kindling.” Alysia patted the wood lovingly.
A choked laugh came from Mrs. Kirkland. “Her concern wasn’t for you, son. It was for the furniture.”
“I can see that.” He stared at Alysia as though she were an alien life-form.
Grace cleared her throat. “Do you have someplace we can sit down? Safely?” she asked.
“Sure.” Keeping a wary gaze on Jacob, Alysia led them to the kitchen. A set of oak chairs and a sturdy oak farm table rested in one corner. She motioned. “Have a seat.”
“We have a problem,” Grace said, putting her hands in her lap. “Several months ago my granddaughter chased her dog into a construction site. There was an accident and Tracy was badly injured. She’s had several operations on her back and legs and is better—physically—but emotionally she’s depressed and convinced she can’t walk. The therapist thought a change of scenery would help.”
Alysia nodded. “How awful…! Of course you and your granddaughter can stay. But the ogre leaves.”
“That does it.” Jacob slammed his chair back. “You’re unreasonable and pigheaded.”
“And you’re obnoxious and arrogant,” she insulted back.
“My daughter is waiting in the car. I promised her.”
“Good heavens. She’s out in the car? She must be worrying about what’s going on in here.” Alysia flew out the door.
Startled, mother and son stared at each other. “She’s different,” Grace observed. “Refreshing.”
Jacob ignored the note of amused approval in her voice and glanced around the kitchen. Like the parlor, it seemed brighter than he remembered, except for a mess by the sink. He went closer and crouched, checking the corroded pipes, then picked up a how-to-fix-it book lying by the toolbox. “She wasn’t lying about the plumbing, it’s a wreck,” he muttered. “Looks like she was doing her own repairs. Trying to, at least.”
“She has a lot of energy and enthusiasm,” his mother said, with a hint of calculated innocence in her expression.
He looked up. “Don’t even think about it,” he warned.
“She might be good for Tracy. Nothing else has worked.”
Jacob rose moodily. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for his child, but it was hard to imagine that a whirlwind like Alysia McKenna could be anything but trouble. Even if she did have one of the most desirable mouths he’d ever seen in his thirty-six years—especially if she did. Damnation, he needed his head examined. He did not, repeat not, find her attractive. Unfortunately, his body was rebellious to reasoning. From the moment she’d answered the door, a heavy tension had been growing in the lower region of his anatomy.
“I’ve got to get out there,” Jacob muttered. “Who knows what that woman might say. I don’t want Tracy upset.” His fears appeared groundless, however, when he found Alysia: She was sitting in the car, conversing comfortably with his daughter. Tracy looked quite intrigued with her new companion.
“Poppa, Alythia says I can stay in the tower room, but she needs to fix it up first, so we haf to stay in a motel for a few days,” she said, her faint lisp mostly noticeable when she tried to pronounce Alysia’s name.
“Sweetheart, it would be better if we went home,” he suggested gently.
Tracy’s mouth curved downward, the enthusiasm fading from her eyes. “But I don’t wanna go back. Alythia said there’s a motel in Seaside where you can hear the waves and everything. She’s awful nice. She said we can visit anytime we want.”
“Did she?” Jacob winced. The last thing he wanted to do was “visit” Miss McKenna. Yet Alysia, and her outrageous nature, might succeed in helping his daughter where therapists and doctors had failed. And since he’d already arranged his work schedule to allow an extended leave of absence, it didn’t matter where they stayed.
“She says I can sleep in a real captain’s bed and have a ship’s lantern for my light.” Tracy glanced shyly at her new friend. “Alythia knows all about ships.”
Damnation. Jacob could already guess what the next few weeks would be like—an endless stream of “Alysia saids.”
“Can we stay, Poppa? Please?” Tracy asked hopefully.
Jacob was stuck tighter than a fly in a spiderweb. He knew it. His mother who had followed him outside knew it. And, worst of all, Alysia McKenna knew it. She smiled at him, a wicked gleam of amusement in her green eyes. He sighed.
“Sure, pumpkin, it’s fine. But I need to talk to Miss McKenna alone to, um, make the arrangements. Grandma will stay with you.”
“Yes, Poppa.”
Alysia lightly ruffled the child’s hair and winked. Her first sight of the youngster had twisted her heart. The little girl’s face was white and solemn, and her anxious expression was older than any seven-year-old child’s should be. Alysia had instantly decided she could tolerate the devil for Tracy’s sake.
Besides, it would drive Jacob Reynolds crazy.

Jacob followed Alysia back to the kitchen, questioning his sanity every step of the way.
“So?” she asked, perching on the edge of the sink.
He tried to stay calm. Alysia McKenna had an unnerving way of annoying him. She sat there, swinging her legs like a kid—only no one could ever mistake her for a child, not with that body. And that was the worst part, she had a body that could seriously warp a man’s judgment.
“Er, you won’t have to pay your rent while we’re staying here,” he said.
Her head shook emphatically. “You can’t trick me that way. I’ll go on paying the rent and getting my receipts. You won’t be able to evict me for defaulting on the lease.”
“That isn’t what I meant,” Jacob denied, his pride stinging. He might try- legal means to get her out, but he wouldn’t be underhanded. “I’ll go to Portland tomorrow and have Matt Braeden draw up a financial agreement. His specialty is corporate law, but he’s good on any contracts.”
“I’m going, too.”
“Why? That doesn’t make sense.”
“It does to me.” She crossed her arms over her stomach, her generous mouth set mulishly. “I want to meet this Matt and explain the conditions myself.”
“God, you’re suspicious.”
“I wonder why?” Alysia asked, her tone sarcastic.
Jacob held up his hands in defeat. “All right. I’ll come by in the morning and we’ll go up together. Does that make you happy?” She muttered something he couldn’t understand, but he suspected it wasn’t nice. Sighing, he decided to pretend she’d agreed. “My next concern is the house. I’ll get a crew of men here as soon as possible. They’ll fix everything.”
“No.” Her chin raised when he started to protest. “I won’t have heavy-handed construction workers messing up this beautiful Victorian. It needs to be restored by an expert.”
“But I’m an architect. I think I’m capable of having the job done right.”
“I’m talking about a historical building. Restoration is completely different from architecture.”
Jacob rubbed his forehead wearily. “You said the plumbing and wiring is antiquated. That doesn’t sound safe. I don’t want my daughter in a place that isn’t safe.”
“You should have thought of that earlier. Didn’t it occur to you the house could be falling down, despite your wonderful caretaker? No one has lived here for over twenty years.”
A lot of things hadn’t occurred to Jacob, including the possibility of having a strange, tawny-haired young woman camped in his grandparents’ home. “Let’s argue about it later. Tell me, what makes you such an expert?” he asked.
“Oh, that.” She shrugged. “I have a bachelor’s degree in archaeology, and a master’s in history. I also did an internship with the Smithsonian,” she offered. “And I worked for a museum in Philadelphia for a few years.”
He could hardly believe it. Jacob could have sworn she wasn’t more than twenty years old. Master’s degree? Smithsonian internship? What was she doing on the Oregon coast running an antique store? She had to be nuts. “Will you at least agree to plumbers and electricians?”
“Only if I get to pick them. If you don’t mind, that is,” she said without a pause. “They aren’t expensive and they know what they’re doing.”
“They must be paragons if you recommend them,” he murmured. “Being such an expert yourself.”
Alysia just laughed at the mocking barb. She was still rather annoyed with Reynolds—but she could see his exhaustion and knew his daughter’s accident must have affected him deeply. He seemed devoted to the child. Had worry caused the faint frosting of silver at his temples?
A man who loved his child so much couldn’t be all bad. For a moment she was tempted to forget her claim on the house. She wanted to stroke his face and soothe the tired lines. Alysia grinned wryly, imagining his expression if she tried. Jacob Reynolds wasn’t the type to be soothed. He was a four-square American male, the kind who wanted their women helpless and clinging. Could a man like that ever change? It was an interesting thought. Challenging. She liked challenges.
“I’ll tell you what,” she said in a friendlier tone than before. “You can hire a crew to repair the dry rot on the north side, and they can finish repairing the roof.”
“Finish?” he echoed.
“Yeah. I did some of the repairs before I broke my arm.”
“You were up on the roof? That’s dangerous.” Jacob jumped to his feet and stomped around the large kitchen. “I won’t have it,” he said without thinking.
Sticking her feet out, Alysia contemplated her toes. She wiggled them experimentally. “That’s an atavistic male response,” she informed him. He wheeled and glared at her. “And useless, since you don’t have the right to order me around.”
“I’m not ordering you around,” Jacob said stiffly, knowing he’d blundered. But damn it, he didn’t want her on the roof! Wasn’t one broken arm on his conscience enough? Just then she tried to scratch under the edge of her cast, making him feel an added stab of guilt. “This is still my house. I don’t want you risking your neck on my property.”
“The roof needed to be repaired,” she declared. “What should I have done. waited for an act of God?”
“I didn’t know about it.”
“Your lawyer did.”
He opened his mouth, then promptly closed it. Matt had been trying to contact him but he’d ignored the messages. “I’m sorry. My life has been a little hectic.”
“That’s okay.” Alysia could afford to be generous. The house would be restored her way—with care and love—and it would stop draining every penny of her reserves.
“Why did you choose my house?” Jacob asked, defeated. “For that matter, what made you choose the Oregon coast?”
“I liked it.”
“Is that all? You must have checked into the market potential here…the business prospects for antique sales.”
She shook her head. The decision to quit her job and move to the Northwest had been spontaneous. Alysia had been poking around Astoria when she’d run across the deserted house and barn. She’d been enchanted and outraged at their condition. Local legends said the place was haunted, particularly the nearby ocean bluff. But legends didn’t scare Alysia, neither did hard work.
“But you must have checked. You signed an extended lease, for heaven’s sake,” Jacob exclaimed, offended that anyone, even a scatterbrained brat, would be so reckless. “Don’t you know anything about business? It usually takes years to start making a profit. And out here…you’re not even in town. You can’t survive in the country.”
She chuckled. “I’m already doing quite well. Although, my profits have been eaten up trying to repair the house.” Her eyes darkened to a mischievous jade green. “But I’m sure it will get better now that you’re here—the big strong man, capable of handling things for a helpless woman.”
“That isn’t funny.”
“Sorry.” Alysia grinned, unrepentant. In a funny sort of way he looked just like a grumpy little boy. His dark hair was mussed from his fingers and he had absentmindedly tugged the confining tie from his neck. It was kind of endearing.
She hadn’t told him the whole truth; she hadn’t felt it necessary. Actually, Alysia was quite capable of managing a successful business. In addition to her position at the museum, she’d been doing antique restoration for years, along with a kind of “finders” service for the filthy rich. If someone wanted a particular antique—say a Louis XV bombe chest—then she found it. Her clients were the sort of people who didn’t care how much a thing cost as long as they got it.
“What made you decide on my house?”
“The Captain.” Alysia pointed to the corner of the
kitchen, where a wicker basket rested next to the cast-iron wood stove. A pair of sleepy eyes peered over the rim of the basket.
“Good God, it’s a cat.”
“Perceptive of you. Don’t you like cats?”
“I can’t stand them.”
“Oh.” She nodded in understanding. No wonder they clashed. Cat people and noncat people were mixtures that simply didn’t work. “I’ll bet you like dogs.”
“That sounds like a criticism.”
“I like dogs well enough.” Alysia jumped down from the counter and crossed to the basket. The Captain deigned to let her scratch behind his ears. A purr rumbled from his broad chest. “But dogs are slaves. Cats are citizens.”
“That’s absurd. Felines are unpredictable, stubborn and egotistical. Dogs are much nicer.”
The Captain rose and stretched, then jumped out of his nest. He weaved around Alysia’s legs. “I like their independence,” she said calmly, wiggling her toes in the animal’s long fur.
“What did that rotten animal have to do with your picking this house?” Jacob asked, stepping closer.
Alysia bit her lip, distracted by her unusual response to Jacob’s presence. Her skin tingled and her pulse was definitely faster than normal. Goodness, she’d been living like a hermit too long. Sure, the man had a body that appeared scrumptiously proportioned under his formal attire, but she’d never been the weak-kneed type of female.
“Well?” he prompted.
She glanced up. “Um, I was looking around the property when I heard this howling in the barn. Somehow he’d gotten trapped and was making a fuss. Anyway, no one claimed him. He acted so much in charge that I called him ‘The Captain.’ When I learned a sea captain built the house, it seemed to be fate. I made a few calls and wound up leasing the place.”
Jacob glared at the feline. The Captain opened his mouth and yawned, revealing an impressive set of teeth. “I—”
“Son? What’s taking so long?” Mrs. Kirkland appeared at the door of the kitchen. She smiled at the younger woman.
“I’m coming in a minute. Is—” he hesitated “—is Tracy upset?”
“No, not at all. I haven’t seen her this animated since before the accident. Apparently Alysia mentioned the Reynolds ghost. Your daughter is quite intrigued.”
He rounded on the talkative culprit. “How dare you? You might have scared her silly!”
“Nonsense,” Mrs. Kirkland interjected. “Children love stories about haunted mansions. You always did. Remember? You used to beg me to tell you about Alice’s spirit, forever doomed to walk the sea cliffs. You found it quite fascinating.”
Alysia raised her eyebrows. “Ghosts and ghoulies? Why, Mr. Reynolds, I would never have guessed.” The man looked thoroughly annoyed that his childhood foible had been revealed.
“Forget it.” Jacob turned to his mother. “I’ll be just a little longer.”
“All right, but try not to be too long.”
Jacob glanced back at Alysia, leaning nonchalantly against the wall. In the low evening light the smudges on her face were invisible, but the supple curves beneath the disreputable sweatshirt were still evident. He hadn’t missed her reaction when he’d stepped close to her—it was the only time in the entire conversation when she hadn’t been in complete control. Intriguing. Of course, she wasn’t his type. Too brash, too unfeminine, too tomboyish, too everything.
But intriguing nonetheless.
“Tell me, Miss McKenna,” he said softly. “How much do you charge for services rendered? On restoration. of course.”
Alysia’s eyes widened. He might be referring to business, but somehow the air had gone from crackling with animosity to being supercharged with sexual innuendo. She thrust her thumbs in the belt loops of her jeans, not wanting to be betrayed into covering her breasts. It was bad enough that her nipples had hardened into revealing awareness, but she didn’t want to act as if it mattered.
“It depends,” she drawled. “On the individual customer and the work needed.”
“Really? Give me an example. How much do you charge for restoring, say, Queen Anne chairs?” He leaned forward, a slight smile playing on his mouth and looking uncannily like hisseafaring great-grandfather.
Alysia’s pulse jumped. The man beneath the stuffed suit had potential, and he was lethally attractive when he wasn’t frowning. “Er, it depends on the condition of the chair, and who’s asking for restoration.”
“You charge different amounts for different customers?”
“Why don’t you just ask me what you want to know,” Alysia snapped. She didn’t like subtle games of ambush and snide innuendo, and she suspected Jacob Reynolds was trying to scare her off. Buying her off hadn’t worked, nor had threats of legal maneuvering. Maybe he thought she would turn tail if he made a sexual pass. Fat chance.
“I was wondering about the house. How much would you charge for the restoration? Provided I’m willing to pay.”
His tone sounded more normal, but she remained suspicious. “I’ll give you a bargain. Ten thousand. And you pay for the materials, plumbers, electricians and carpenters.”
“That’s ridiculous. I thought you said you were a businesswoman,” he said, disgusted. “Restoration on this scale could cost fifty thousand, maybe more.”
Alysia breathed a sigh of satisfaction. Reynolds had returned to his normal persona—self-righteous, insulting and snooty. “How I run my business is none of your concern.”
Her tawny hair was a golden halo in the fading light and Jacob stepped forward, gaze fixed on her cat green eyes. She was just like a feline. Unpredictable, unreasonable, all silken fur and steel claws. He didn’t like cats and he didn’t like Alysia McKenna. He especially didn’t like the way he felt when he was near her—turned on and inclined to abandon control.
“You’re a disaster,” he said deliberately. “I don’t like earthy women with dirty faces and bare feet. Your hair is a mess,” Jacob touched the shimmering mane. It felt clean and soft. He tugged his finger through a snarl and caught a faint whiff of fresh mint. “You’re pushy and in my way.” His thumb stroked the line of her jaw, then drifted around her ear.
“You’re not my type, either.”
He swallowed. He’d only intended to startle her with his suggestive approach, but the throaty, hoarse sound of her voice did something to his gut. He flattened his palms on the wall on either side of her shoulders.
“I don’t think…type is the issue,” he whispered.
“You never know. But I guess it doesn’t matter, since we’re stuck with each other.” Her faint smile challenged him.
Jacob leaned closer and caught her mouth. He was right, she had a delicious mouth, pure fire. He fought an insistent urge to lift her against the wall and fill her body with his own. It wasn’t like him, but neither was the ill-tempered maniac who had yelled and tried to pay her off.
There was something about Alysia McKenna that knocked him off balance. Her clear gaze seemed to look straight into his soul, which was absurd; he couldn’t trust a woman like that.
He pushed a few inches away and looked into her changeable eyes. No longer catlike, they were the dusky green of a stormy sea. Angry? Aroused? He couldn’t tell. Quick, shallow breaths lifted her breasts and the worn fabric did nothing to conceal their thrusting, unfettered shape.
“Was that supposed to prove something?” she asked.
“Chalk it up to letting off steam, clearing the air.” Jacob glanced down her body again. He had the overwhelming feeling she would be sensational in his bed, but dynamite in his life—dynamite as in exploding, disastrous, upsetting and utterly a problem.
Alysia cleared her throat. His hands were still planted on the wall beside her shoulders. “Are you done?” she asked.
He smiled lazily. “When I’m done you’ll know it.”
“Is that a reference to your sexual prowess? Or were you referring to the matter of my lease?”
“You’re direct.”
“I try to be.” Alysia slid her hand around Jacob Reynolds’s neck and drew his face down. She could play this game, too. Her kiss was brief but expertly placed. “There,” she breathed against his mouth, her tongue flicking his lower lip. “Now the air is clear.”
“Is that the only reason you kissed me?”
“Sure,” she said smoothly. “We’ll soon be living together. Even people who dislike each other can wonder what it would be like to kiss that other person. Any possible curiosity is now satisfied. You’ve taken a turn and I’ve taken a turn. Nothing happened. End of problem.”
Her eyes were back to that catlike glow, and Jacob knew it wasn’t so simple. Something had definitely happened. “Then I’d better leave while the count is even.”
In the hall, Jacob shook his head in an attempt to clear the sensual fog surrounding him. Deep in thought, he failed to notice the feline conveniently situated on the staircase. A lightning paw reached through the railing and swiped down his shoulder, missing his ear by a fraction of an inch.
Jacob whirled and snarled wordlessly. The Captain spat back. The battle lines had been clearly drawn.
“This is my house.”
The Captain spat again.
“You’re as unreasonable as your owner.” But nowhere near as tantalizing.
The staccato raps of the cat’s tail against the staircase echoed in the quiet house.
“I hope you break that tail.”
He heard Tracy from the car. Incredibly, she was laughing. It had been a long time since he’d heard her laugh. “Lay a paw on my daughter and you’re cat soup,” he warned.
Whiskers twitched.
“Damn,” Jacob muttered. “Threatening a cat. I’m losing my mind.”

Chapter Two (#ulink_4747729a-b151-5060-8b4f-2e0a0eedd57e)
The sun was just peeking above the horizon when Alysia opened her eyes. She yawned, then groaned. For a glorious moment she’d forgotten about her soon-to-be-resident problem, Jacob Reynolds.
Resident. As in living together. Naw…she dismissed that description. It sounded too much like…well…living together. He’d upset her life already, and certainly her sleep. Twice she’d awakened during the night. Each time because of an erotic dream involving horizontal calisthenics with the man.
“Maybe I’m attracted to Jacob because he looks like Captain James,” she speculated out loud, then dismissed the thought.
The unpleasant truth was she found Jacob Reynolds dangerously attractive and didn’t know how to handle it. If his kiss was anything to judge by, a man of infinite passion existed beneath his starched appearance, a man who could rival the sexy Captain James Reynolds in every way.
Swiping a lock of hair from her eyes, Alysia sighed. She could forget her X-rated dreams and Jacob. But making friends with his mother and daughter would be nice. In the few minutes Alysia had spent with Tracy she’d discovered the child was bright, imaginative and hiding some kind of troubling secret. Tracy hadn’t mentioned a secret, but something in her expression gave her away.
And that brought her back to Jacob Reynolds. Squarejawed, self-possessed, a man in charge of his world.
Cool air brushed Alysia’s skin and she tucked the quilt around her shoulders. Before moving to Oregon she’d always slept in the nude, but the cool coastal weather and draftiness of the old house had persuaded her otherwise. Her concession was minor, she now used satin nightshirts. She loved satin. It reminded her of stroking polished wood, cool to the touch, then warming like a part of your hand. Sensuous.
Like Jacob and the way he kissed.
“Damnation, stop thinking about the man,” she scolded herself. She wasn’t thrilled about this change in her plans, but she’d adjust. Most of her life had been spent adjusting.
On the surface Jacob was stuffy and overbearing, but Alysia knew a lot about deceptive appearances. She also knew a lot about secrets. Growing up in official Washington, D.C., had contributed untold depths to her education. The nation’s capital was a great place to learn about all kinds of things.
The Captain swept onto the bed and she stroked his thick pelt. “Hi, boy,” she murmured. A thrumming, contented purr filled the air, his teeth clicking as he rubbed his jaw along the hard plaster cast on her broken arm.
“You weren’t very nice to him,” she said.
He yawned.
“Were you jealous?” The possibility had occurred to Alysia. She’d responded to Jacob Reynolds in a very female and fundamental fashion. The Captain had sensed her response and didn’t like it. Pure, undisguised jealousy.
“Mrreow.”
“Just like a man.”
The cat shimmied between the bedsheets and Alysia’s body and she shifted accordingly. But when he flexed his paws in the manner of a contented feline, she immediately scooted from the four-poster bed. He stuck his rumpled head out and complained.
“Forget it,” she said, yanking clothes from the dresser. “Claws and satin don’t mix.”
A shower finished clearing her mind, but it wasn’t until she reached for a towel that Alysia remembered the trip to Portland. “Drat,” she muttered. It was bad enough to have Jacob moving into her house, now she had to be confined in a car with him.
An hour later she waited on the veranda, the keys to her truck in hand. When Jacob pulled into the driveway and got out she waved stiffly. He was wearing another expensive suit—blue this time. And though it was stuffy and formal, she couldn’t help noticing it fit him to elegant perfection.
He nodded, then walked to the passenger door and opened it. “Get in. Please,” he added when she hesitated.
“Uh, I thought we’d go in my pickup.” Alysia motioned to the battered vehicle at the side of the house.
Jacob blinked, then stared incredulously. Go in that? The truck was held together by nothing but rust and some baling wire. “That thing wouldn’t last twenty miles.”
“The pickup is very dependable.” Alysia planted her hands on her hips. It was then he noticed her jeans were just as tight as the ones she’d worn the previous day. For a crazy moment he imagined sliding them down her long legs, inch by silky inch.
“Uh, besides,” he said huskily, “you aren’t safe driving with a cast on your arm.”
“I do fine with this cast, and whose fault is it, anyway?”
He couldn’t argue, but on the other hand, he wasn’t getting into the ancient truck—with or without Alysia McKenna behind the wheel. “The Mercedes is more comfortable and it’s faster,” he said. “I thought you’d want to get this trip over with as quickly as possible. I mean, you have a business to run, right?”
“Why should you care? You want me to fail.”
All at once, Jacob wasn’t sure he wanted Alysia to fail, even if success meant she’d stick out her three-year lease. “I don’t want you to lose your business,” he said carefully. “I just want you to succeed somewhere else.”
“I guess the Reynolds family is too aristocratic for a common business venture on their land,” Alysia said evenly.
He glared. “This isn’t accomplishing anything. If we have to fight, let’s do it in the car.”
Alysia pursed her lips. “Maybe we should go in separate vehicles. I might find an estate sale in Portland. Then the day wouldn’t be such a waste,” she said, sounding innocent.
On any other occasion Jacob would have agreed. Alysia was the last woman he wanted to spend time with—she had an unsettling impact on his senses. Yet he truly believed it wasn’t safe for her to drive such a decrepit pickup, especially with a broken arm. “I’ll take you to any sale you want to go to,” he said through gritted teeth. “So get into the car and stop being so stubborn.”
For a moment Jacob thought Alysia would hit him, then her face softened and a mischievous grin curved her lips. Without further argument she climbed into the Mercedes.
Immediately Jacob felt a sense of impending doom.
“Okay,” she said cheerfully. “Let’s go.”

When they reached their destination Alysia got out and stretched. She had dressed carefully for the occasion—extremely faded jeans, a faded flannel shirt and old sneakers. There weren’t any major holes in the fabric, and the clothes were clean, but she knew they irritated her companion. His expression had been grim every time he looked her direction, though they’d managed to have a lively and interesting conversation during the two-hour drive.
Inside the lobby of the office building Alysia’s eyes widened. The law firm was not only big, it screamed old money and conservative values. Fine artwork decorated the walls. And they actually had an elevator operator. An operator. Someone paid to take people up and down so they wouldn’t damage their fingers hitting the buttons themselves.
They whooshed up to the fifth floor and she followed Jacob to a corner office, guarded by several secretaries. “Jacob Reynolds and Alysia McKenna, here to see Mr. Braeden,” he said to the woman at the first desk. “I called last night and made a personal appointment.”
The secretary’s professional smile turned brilliant. “Of course. Mr. Braeden is expecting you. Go right in.”
Alysia felt the full weight of the woman’s stare as they passed by.
“Jacob!” A tall, ruggedly handsome man jumped up from behind his desk and hurried across the room.
As the two friends shook hands Alysia saw a warm, relaxed smile on Jacob’s face. It was nice, very nice, and it made a shivery sensation sink to her stomach.
Matt Braeden held out his hand. “This must be Alysia. We’ve talked so much, I feel as though we know each other.”
Prepared to despise the lawyer on sight, Alysia was surprised to find herself responding to his engaging grin and the lack of censure in his brown eyes. “We’ve talked,” she agreed. “Mostly about my lease.”
“Mmm, yes. Please, sit down. I hope you won’t lose much business by taking the day off.”
As she sank into a chair Alysia thought it was amazing how different the two men were, at least in personality. “I don’t have a lot of customers on Mondays,” she said. “Besides, Jacob promised to take me to some estate sales. He’s so thoughtful.” She deliberately used Jacob’s first name, knowing he’d never invited her to do so. His swift, hard glance told her he’d caught the implication that they were better acquainted and more amicable than was truly the case.
Apparently catching the subtle nuance between them, Matt Braeden’s mouth twitched for several moments be fore he spoke. “I’m, uh, I’m glad you’re getting on so well.”
“Oh, yes. He’s awfully concerned about my arm.” Alysia lifted the cast and waved it. “Since I broke it at the house.”
“I know—that rotten floor. Has it hindered your work?”
“No, not really.” Alysia’s gaze strayed to Jacob. His eyes were fixed on the window, his body tense. “Except I had trouble repairing a plumbing problem.”
“Everything is going to be fixed,” Jacob snapped, turning his head. “I told you that.” He looked at Matt. “She has this ridiculous obsession about historical accuracy.”
“That’s great,” Matt said. “Alysia has an outstanding reputation in her field. I checked everything before you signed the lease—you’d be smart to listen to her.”
Jacob’s scowl accused his friend of treachery. “Maybe I don’t care about historical accuracy. That house has never been happy. Sometimes I think it’s cursed.”
Startled, Alysia’s jaw dropped. Though she’d heard joking rumors of a curse, she never expected to hear such a fantastic statement from Jacob Reynolds. And it wasn’t true. The Victorian was beautiful—lonely and neglected-but not cursed. Yet she couldn’t deny the bitterness in his voice, or the reality that he’d avoided his grandparents’ home since their deaths.
Houses did reflect the lives of the people who lived there—sorrows and joys, love and betrayal. That Jacob would sense a brooding atmosphere in the Victorian disturbed her. Still, what really disturbed her was the urge to hold him close and tell him it was all right. It didn’t make sense. Jacob was the last person she should feel sympathy for—or desire.
Oh God, Alysia moaned silently. She had to get control of herself. Matt Braeden was more her type—why wasn’t she thinking about him in that way?
Because you’re an idiot, with a talent for wanting the wrong man. She was sex starved, that was the answer. Kissing Jacob had been a big mistake, reminding her body it needed more than sleep, food and hard work. Unfortunately, sex implied commitment to Alysia. She couldn’t have a casual affair.
“Jacob,” she said quietly, still trying to control her thoughts. “It’s just a house.”
“I don’t want to talk about it. Let’s stick to business,” he snapped. “Matt, were you able to get a contract written?”
“Er, yes, I have it in draft form. I believe Alysia had some concerns…?”
Though distracted, Alysia smiled at the lawyer. “It’s very simple,” she said. “I won’t sign any contract affecting my tenant rights. If Jacob wants to suspend payment while he’s staying in the house, fine, but the lease stays.”
Jacob muttered something unintelligible.
Matt winked. “You’re completely protected.”
“For heaven’s sake, Matt told me you tried to break the lease before,” Jacob burst out. “Why do you want to stay now?”
“Of course I wanted to break the lease. You wouldn’t take care of the repairs or anything. But now that I have your attention.” she said with a smile, “I’ve changed my mind.”
“Just like a woman.” He snorted.
Alysia couldn’t decide if he hated all women, or just her. “I’m sorry you don’t like the situation,” she said. “But it isn’t my fault you signed the lease without reading it.”
“Damn it, I told you I was upset. My daughter—”
“Hey, stop it. Both of you,” Matt ordered. His lips twitched again and a moment later he burst into laughter. Jacob glared, which just made him roar louder.
“It isn’t funny, Matt,” he growled. “That’s my house, and you rented to a…a…”
“Woman?” Alysia supplied helpfully. “Let’s see, I think you said I was a disaster. A pushy woman with a dirty face and bare feet. You also mentioned my hair was a mess.”
Jacob shifted in embarrassment and glanced at his friend. “I, er, may have been a little tactless. Sorry.”
She shrugged. “You were partly right—I don’t like shoes and my face was dirty. As for my clothing—would you work under a sink in a cashmere suit?”
The subtle jibe made him flinch. Alysia was right. He’d made assumptions based on her appearance. It was neither fair nor rational. He supposed she had reason to resent him, as much as he resented her…probably more. Yet she’d been soft hearted enough to agree to them moving into the house.
“I think the contract will be acceptable,” Matt said. He went to the door, telling his secretary to print the final draft.
Alysia took her copy and read it front to back with an attention to detail that surprised Jacob. “It looks okay,” she said finally. “I’m ready to sign…in front of a notary public,” she added quickly.
Jacob stared at the printed page. He didn’t have a choice, he had to sign. Tracy was facing a long and difficult recovery and she wanted to live in the old mansion. More than that, she wanted to make friends with Alysia. He couldn’t remember the last time his daughter had taken so strongly to someone.
The sound of Matt deliberately clearing his throat brought Jacob’s head up. Humor still warmed his friend’s expression, but it also held a challenge. Alysia and the lawyer had never met before today, yet he knew Matt had formed a positive opinion of her. He’d told Jacob he approved of her determination to build and run a successful business. He also thought his friend was being irrational about the property.
There wasn’t any point in stalling. “Let’s get this over with.” Jacob sighed. “Where’s your notary public?”

Alysia held the classified section of the newspaper in front of her face, searching for listings of estate sales. It was rude, but no ruder than Jacob dragging her to a fancy, upscale restaurant without asking her preference. Every time she started to soften toward him, he did something to annoy her…which was a good thing. In Matt Braeden’s office she’d glimpsed another side to Jacob, a dark, hurting side. And it was tied to the house. Her house.
By the time their main course was delivered she had to ask. “Jacob, why do you think your grandparents’ home is cursed?”
Resigned, Jacob sat back in his chair and gave her a hard stare. She just looked back, her green eyes darkened by some undefined emotion. “No one has ever been happy in that house. Ever. If a place could be cursed, it would be there. I guess that’s what I meant. But I don’t believe in curses, or ghosts, or anything supernatural.”
“You’re very pragmatic,” she said. “From what I’ve heard, a lot of people believe in the curse and your ghost.”
“She isn’t my ghost. For God’s sake, we’re talking about rumor and superstition. I don’t want to discuss it.” But Alysia did—he could see it in her face.
Damn, he thought, she really was like a cat, curious and unpredictable. And she had their sensuality—stretching, gliding, licking the herb sauce from her lips. Jacob could almost feel her tongue, the rough velvet texture of it, tasting him. He shifted, trying to quell his swift, involuntary reaction. Even his wife had never affected him so much with a look or a gesture, and now he was lusting after an unkempt tomboy.
“Your grandparents weren’t happy?” she asked after a moment.
“My—” Jacob paused, trying to think of a way to describe the taciturn Marcus Reynolds. “My grandfather wasn’t an easy man to live with. He was stern, very quiet and kept to himself.”
She traced the pattern on the linen tablecloth with her finger. “I thought the house was built out of love,” she said, sounding oddly wistful.
Taking a deep breath, he tried to remember that Alysia knew little of the tragic affairs of his family. Her curiosity was natural under the circumstances. “Love doesn’t always mean happiness.”
No longer hungry, Jacob pushed his plate away. He recalled his father’s and grandfather’s lectures about not allowing the heart to rule the head and never letting a woman have control. He’d never completely understood their warnings until he met Alysia McKenna. She awakened something deep and powerful inside of him, something that clamored for attention. Something dangerous.
“When I first moved in,” Alysia said hesitantly. “I had nightmares. It must have been the stress…you know, from making such a big change in my life.”
Jacob leaned forward. For the first time since they’d met she looked vulnerable and he felt an irrational surge of protectiveness. Alysia McKenna didn’t seem the type to suffer from nightmares. “Tell me.”
She shivered. “I…I would wake up with images of a dark and damp place. There’d be a horrible pain in my chest. And I felt…terrified,” she said finally. “Anxious, like there was something I had to do—or tell someone—that was more important than anything else in the world. But I’m not afraid of the house, I feel it welcomed me. Silly, right? I know you don’t approve.”
“I doubt if you care,” he murmured.
Regret flitted across Alysia’s face, but she shrugged. “I don’t live by other people’s opinions, if that’s what you mean. Especially ones who don’t care about me.”
Don’t care? There was a hollow, brittle sound to the words. Jacob frowned, wondering what kind of life she’d led, to settle so far away from family. The protectiveness he hadn’t been able to control before came stronger now. Which was absurd. Alysia McKenna needed protection the way a drowning man needed a cup of water.
“Anyway,” she continued, “life’s too short for conformity. I’d be miserable doing what was expected of me.”
“And what was expected?”
Leaning back, Alysia gave him a determined smile. “It doesn’t matter. I know what I want. and where I belong.”
“Yeah, my house.”
“I’m glad you agree.”
“I don’t agree,” Jacob exploded before he caught the gleam in her eyes. Hell, she knew exactly which of his buttons to push. And she enjoyed pushing them. “Tell me, when did you start rebelling, or have you always been this way?”
Alysia raised her eyebrows. “About the same time everyone does—when I was a teenager. You’ll find out with Tracy.”
He stared, appalled by the idea that Tracy might rebel, might become like the wild teens he’d heard about and sooner or later he’d have to face it all.
“Hey, take it easy, Jacob,” Alysia murmured sympathetically. “You’ll handle it. Besides, a little rebellion is healthy.”
Jacob wanted to be reassured, but his confidence had been shaken. A father was supposed to protect his children, yet Tracy had nearly died in an accident. What kind of man let such a thing happen? He was responsible for his daughter’s safety—he should have prevented it. The thought nagged at Jacob, keeping him silent as he paid for their lunch, then drove Alysia to the estate sale she wanted to visit.
He’d barely brought the Mercedes to a halt before she threw off her seat belt and jumped out of the car. Jacob shook his head. How could someone get so excited about old junk? Sighing, he locked the car and hurried after her. The sight of her tight, denim-clad bottom was screwing familiar knots in his gut…familiar since meeting Alysia, that is.
“Hold up,” he called.
“Come on,” she said, fairly glowing with excitement. “I’ve got a feeling about this place.”
Her “feeling” turned out to be several sets of extremely greasy pottery bakeware and four iron Dutch ovens—not really antiques, she explained, but popular with collectors—and a large, dusty sea chest with rusty fittings. When she looked at him, smiled and innocently asked if the chest would fit on the back seat of the Mercedes, Jacob knew he’d been right about impending doom. This was Alysia’s way of getting back at him. His leather seats would never be the same.
“You’re not planning to go to another sale, I hope,” he said, sliding into the car.
She appeared to consider the matter. “I guess not.”
Jacob grunted and stuck his key in the ignition. Turning it, there was a curious whining noise, then a ticking sound. He held his breath and tried the key again. This time nothing happened.
“Problem with the engine?” Alysia asked, her voice choked.
“You might as well say it,” he growled, sneaking a look at her mouth. She was having a terrible time keeping the laughter inside and he could see it bubbling in her irreverent soul.
“S-say what?”
“Say we should have taken your truck.”
“Uh, no…I think the Mercedes is very nice. Not terribly reliable, but it beats my pickup in the comfort department.”
Almost, but not quite, an “I told you so.” All of a sudden Jacob wasn’t angry or even embarrassed. He had to admit it was funny, really funny. Turning, he looked at Alysia squarely. He didn’t trust her, but he wanted her. Badly. And he felt intensely alive whenever she smiled or teased him—or even when she made him angry.
A moment later his amusement faded as he contemplated her expression. Alysia McKenna was dangerous. He didn’t understand why he wanted her so much; she had none of the qualities he normally found attractive—she was too damned independent and unpredictable.
“I’ll call a tow truck,” he said. “Stay here.”
Alysia’s jaw dropped. For a moment Jacob had looked human, ready to smile, even relaxed, then in the space of a breath he’d switched back to cold and arrogant.
“Fine,” she muttered. She poked at the worn fabric over her knee. The spot was wearing through. Slipping her finger between the threads Alysia yanked, and within a few moments both her knees were uncovered. She was immediately sorry. The action was nothing more than mutiny against her own emotions. One half of her still thought Jacob was obnoxious, the other half responded to the deep wounds he seemed to carry inside.
Problem was, which half would win?

Chapter Three (#ulink_3974763d-c315-5b2c-9989-9e7c7195cca3)
“You have an electrical problem,” the service manager of the Mercedes dealership explained. “We should have it fixed by morning.”
Alysia grinned when Jacob frowned. He wasn’t the kind of man who dealt well with delays or changes to his plans. She, of course, was a big change in his plans.
“Bill, I’ll need a loaner,” he said in a tight voice. “I have to drive Miss McKenna back to Astoria, but I’ll return tomorrow.”
“That’s crazy,” Alysia protested. “We can just stay in Portland and go back together.” The manager cast her a grateful glance, probably because they didn’t want her filthy purchases in one of their cars.
“Fine, just great,” Jacob growled. “But we still need a loaner. And I’ll need to make a call.”
“Of course,” Bill said patiently. “We have a car waiting. And you can use the phone in my office.”
Alysia smiled at the man when they were left alone. “It isn’t your fault,” she said, apologizing for Jacob’s impatience.
He smiled back. “I understand. He’s been under a lot of pressure.”
She looked at him with new interest. “Are you two friends?”
“Since we were kids. Now we play on a charity softball team together.”
Alysia blinked. Softball? He was more a charity dinner and elegant auction type of guy. Softball meant grass stains and dust. It meant sliding into home and occasionally losing dignity. Not exactly Jacob’s style, but maybe he liked the competition.
“Is he any good?”
“One of our best players,” Bill claimed. “He’s the reliable one, always making arrangements and seeing we show for the games. Well, except for the past few months. Tracy’s accident messed him up pretty bad.”
Alysia nodded. She had a good idea of how “messed up” Jacob had been over the accident. For all his faults, he helplessly adored his daughter. Leaning against one of the showroom models, a sleek sports car, she tapped her foot against the tire. “What was he like as a kid?” she asked casually.
“A lot like now. Serious, determined to succeed. He—”
“Spilling my life story?” Jacob asked as he walked up to them, one eyebrow raised.
“Sorry, pal,” Bill said, not looking the least bit sorry. “You’ve got a pretty lady here—a good listener, too. It’s about time you hooked up with someone.”
Before Jacob could protest Alysia smiled and slipped her arm under his. She felt rigid resistance in his body and pressed closer. “That’s sweet, Bill.”
Jacob hauled Alysia outside. “Why did you do that?” he demanded when they were alone. “He thinks we’re involved.”
“Come on, don’t be so serious. You can explain tomorrow if it’s so important.” Alysia climbed into the car, shaking her head. “He’ll make up his own mind, anyway, people always do.”
He made a disgusted sound. “I made reservations for you at a downtown hotel,” he said as they pulled out onto the road.
She lifted her chin. “I can make my own arrangements.”
The tension in Jacob’s face eased and he smiled. “Really? You’re dependent on me for transportation.”
“Ever hear of taxis and buses?” she flashed back.
Jacob stopped at a light and looked at Alysia. She seemed annoyed, energy radiating from her like a bright fire. “Or you could stay at my house,” he offered, surprising even himself with the suggestion. “Unless you think it’s improper…or feel uncomfortable about it.”
Her eyes widened. “Improper? That’s a Victorian attitude. I know…you’re worried I’ll loose my head and have my way with you.”
He fought a groan. The faint twinkle in her eyes told him she was teasing, but it didn’t erase the sensual images her suggestion had conjured. “Alysia,” he murmured huskily. “Has anyone told you you’re a royal pain?”
“Frequently,” she said, grinning.
Jacob shook his head. It was amazing how quickly she got upset, then cooled off. She could have handed him an eviction notice before they ever moved into the house. And he wasn’t sure he’d have been so generous in Alysia’s shoes, considering the provocation.
“All right,” he said. “We’ve got extra stuff there, like toothbrushes and toothpaste. You can, uh, have something of mine to sleep in.”
“Sounds comfy.”
Jacob was anything but comfortable. Even his seated position wouldn’t hide the hard arousal she’d raised in his groin—for the second time in as many hours.

Alysia didn’t know what she expected of Jacob’s home. If she had expected anything, though, it wouldn’t have been a colonial-style house on a large wooded lot. Comfortable, solidly made furniture filled the living room, with few feminine touches. It made her wonder about Tracy’s mother.
“There isn’t any fresh food,” Jacob announced, tossing his suit coat over the back of a chair.
“I’ll check the kitchen. Maybe there’s something I can whip up.” Alysia wandered to the back of the house, looking into each room curiously. She found eggs in the refrigerator and a can of green chilies in the cupboard. It was a beginning. “How do feel about omelettes?” she called.
Jacob followed Alysia’s voice. She was poking into the cupboards and drawers like she owned the place. She kept shaking her head and muttering about people who didn’t have plants or homey things in their sterile kitchens. Finally she plopped a pan down on the black marble countertop and frowned.
“Is this a real kitchen, or just a showroom model?”
He knew she was trying to start another argument, but it didn’t stop him from saying, overemphatically, that it was real.
“Could have fooled me. There’s still a manufacturer’s label on this omelette pan.”
“There’s no such thing.” Jacob tried to snatch the pan, but she grabbed it and danced out of the way. “Alysia, get back here. There’s no label on that pan.”
“Yes, there is,” she said as she darted away, with Jacob in hot pursuit.
Lunging, Jacob caught her by the breakfast nook and trapped her against the table. He lifted her hand and examined the cookware minutely. “See?”
When she laughed he felt the shimmering vibration clear to his feet. “I guess I was wrong,” she whispered.
Oh, God. He stared into her upturned face. She was compelling, undisciplined, beautiful. Too unpredictable by far. One minute happy with her life, the next moving across country. How long would it be before she changed again? Before she discovered that Oregon didn’t answer her dreams, and flew off to find something else?
One night couldn’t hurt, his body coaxed.
One night? Jacob doubted any man could leave Alysia alone after just one night. She was seductive—the way only danger can be seductive.
His finger traced her cheek. “Your face is dirty,” he murmured. Leaning down, Jacob flicked the spot with his tongue, then smiled when Alysia drew a gratifyingly shaky breath. His lips followed the curve of her jaw, caressing the softness of her skin. Her unique scent was a memory burned into his senses.
Jacob knew his weakness would torment him later. Alysia was volatile and stubborn. He could never understand her. All the wanting in the world couldn’t change their differences. Yet she was so soft, so tantalizing. He wanted to trust her. He wanted to believe the honesty in her eyes. When he touched her, the danger didn’t seem to matter.
Jacob tangled his fingers in her hair. Vaguely he heard the pan hit the floor, followed by the pressure of Alysia’s unencumbered hand on his back as she arched into his embrace. Slowly, he reached down and cupped her bottom. Firm, gently curved, molded by worn fabric, it was exactly right.
“What. ?” she moaned when he lifted her to the table, then pressed the rigid swell of his arousal at the juncture between her legs. “Jacob?”
“Just this,” he breathed, flicking the top button loose from her flannel shirt. “And this.” The second button went. The third revealed a lacy bra designed to explode a man’s mind. “My, my, Miss McKenna. What have we here? Such feminine lingerie. You astonish me.”

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