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Seductively Yours
GINA WILKINS
Jamie Flaherty has been in love with sexy Trevor McBride all her life. Only no matter what she did, Trevor had never noticed the adoring girl from the wrong side of town. But now Trevor's back, chased home by scandal. And Jamie isn't waiting any longer….Trevor McBride had always prided himself on avoiding the McBride family curse. Now he's come home, a widower with two children and a huge aversion to gossip. And even though gorgeous, free-spirited Jamie seems determined to test his libido, he's just as determined to resist her. Until she decides to seduce him…



“Have I ever mentioned that you are absolutely gorgeous?”
Trevor raised his head from where he’d been conducting a thorough exploration of Jamie’s chest. “Men aren’t gorgeous,” he said gruffly.
“That’s what I’d always thought,” Jamie said. Then she chuckled softly. “But I have to tell you, it always ticked me off that you were so much prettier than I was. Lucky for you, I’m getting over it.”
“You’re something else, you know that?” Trevor shook his head in exasperation. “Would you be quiet for a minute? I’m trying to seduce you here.”
Jamie grinned, and then shivered as his hand accidentally touched a sensitive spot. “Uh, Trev? Maybe you haven’t realized this, but I’m pretty well seduced already.”
He sat up and brought his hands to her waist, easing her skirt down her hips and revealing her skimpy bikini panties. “I should have known that you wouldn’t even take this seriously,” he grumbled, as he dropped kisses along her thigh, her hip, before tossing aside her panties.
But Jamie was anything but amused when Trevor stood back and kicked off his pants, proving to her just how much he wanted her. Her mouth went dry as he returned to her and finally brought them flesh to flesh.
“Trust me, Trev,” Jamie groaned in delight. “I’m taking this very seriously.”
Dear Reader,
When I originally conceived the SOUTHERN SCANDALS miniseries, I planned for it to be four books—the McBride cousins, Savannah, Tara, Emily and Emily’s long-lost brother, Lucas. But it turned out that Honoria, Georgia, wasn’t so easy to leave. The remaining McBrides—Tara’s brothers, Trent and Trevor—insisted on having stories of their own….
Unlike the rest of his rebellious family, Trevor McBride had always taken pride in his respectability…until a scandal involving his late wife brings him home to Honoria in secret disgrace. His problems are compounded when he comes face-to-face with a woman he has never been able to forget—Jamie Flaherty, who’s come home to face her own demons. Trevor isn’t sure he’s “wild” enough to capture Jamie’s heart…but he’s sure willing to try. And he discovers a few surprises about Jamie—and himself—along the way.
I hope you enjoy visiting with THE WILD MCBRIDES!
Gina Wilkins

Books by Gina Wilkins
HARLEQUIN TEMPTATION
668—SEDUCING SAVANNAH* (#litres_trial_promo)
676—TEMPTING TARA* (#litres_trial_promo)
684—ENTICING EMILY* (#litres_trial_promo)
710—THE REBEL’S RETURN* (#litres_trial_promo)
Seductively Yours
Gina Wilkins


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
For my agent of fifteen years, Denise Marcil, my partner and my friend.

Contents
Chapter 1 (#u12c95a20-4d4e-5ee5-af91-31060dec8d77)
Chapter 2 (#uf04e9694-e101-5607-9a75-1405b735b9f7)
Chapter 3 (#ufb72c93a-508d-5bfe-bf9f-cb45178e6a66)
Chapter 4 (#u52bbf525-0007-5a89-add3-41efe11a710a)
Chapter 5 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 6 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

1
FOR GENERATIONS, scandal had haunted the McBrides like an avenging spirit. At times, Trevor McBride felt as if the sole purpose of his family’s existence had been to provide fodder for the avid gossips of Honoria, Georgia. Yet up until now, he had considered himself immune to the curse.
A straight-A student in high school, town baseball star, college scholarship winner and distinguished graduate, he’d gone directly from law school to Washington, D.C., where he’d quickly earned notice as an up-and-coming young statesman. His marriage to a woman from a distinguished and scandal-free old Virginia family had produced two beautiful children, and had generally been regarded to be happy and successful.
Trevor had managed to evade his family legacy for thirty-one years. But he’d just discovered, to his chagrin, that scandal would not accept rejection from a McBride. And when it finally made an appearance in Trevor’s life, it did so with a vengeance. He was finally learning to ignore the whispers, for the most part, but he had never learned to accept them.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Martha Godwin and Nellie Hankins watching him as he pushed a grocery cart down the cereal aisle. Their mouths moved rapidly and he had no doubt he was the subject of their conversation—even though, unlike the scandalmongers in D.C., they didn’t know the unpleasant details of his wife’s death nearly a year earlier. No one in Honoria knew, and Trevor intended to keep it that way. “Come on, Sam,” he said. “Stop dawdling.”
His five-year-old son had stopped to examine a particularly enticing box. “Can we get this one, Daddy?”
Trevor glanced at it. Chocolate puffs with chocolate-flavored marshmallows. “Don’t think that’s a good choice, son. Let’s stick with what we’ve got. Now, come on. Abbie’s getting hungry.”
“Me, too.” Sam abandoned the sugar-laden cereal and hurried after his father and sister. “Can I have a Fun Meal? They’re giving away race cars this week.”
Looking at the shopping cart filled with nutritious food, Trevor almost sighed at his son’s daily request for a dry burger and greasy fries accompanied by an inexpensive toy. He tried to give in to the request no more than a couple of times a month. “Not tonight, Sam.”
From her seat in the shopping cart, fourteen-month-old Abbie babbled something incomprehensible. Trevor gave her a distracted smile and pushed the cart past the gossip mavens, hoping they would be content to talk about him without feeling the need to talk to him. Maybe if he pretended not to notice them…
“Trevor. Oh, Trevor, dear.”
He would have cursed if his children hadn’t been listening. Reluctantly realizing a conversation was inevitable, he stopped and turned, feeling Sam crowding close to him. He made no effort to smile, but he spoke cordially enough. “Good evening, Mrs. Godwin.”
Nellie Hankins, he noticed, had bustled away. No Hankins would be seen associating with a McBride—the result of another old scandal.
Martha Godwin, blessed with all the tact of a tornado, moved to stand directly between him and the cash registers. “How have you been, Trevor? We haven’t seen you around much lately.”
“I’ve been busy, Mrs. Godwin.”
Her expression changed to one he detested, but had seen far too often during the past year—cloying pity. “Poor dear. It must be so difficult for you trying to raise these two adorable children on your own.”
Sam pressed his face more tightly into Trevor’s leg. Sam hated having attention focused on him—especially this sort of attention. Abbie babbled and crammed her fist in her mouth, slobbering enthusiastically.
“Precious child,” Martha crooned.
Abbie blew bubbles, making a sound that summed up the way Trevor was feeling. “Excuse me, Mrs. Godwin, the kids are hungry. Goodbye.”
He moved the cart forward so that she was forced to move aside or risk losing a few toes. She left in a dignified huff when it became obvious that she would pry no interesting comments out of Trevor today.
“Guess you put that old battle-ax in her place.” The supermarket checker spoke with a satisfaction that bespoke her experience of being on the wrong end of Martha’s gossip.
Ignoring her, Trevor waited impatiently to escape the supermarket and get back to the blessed privacy of his own home.
ON THE FIRST DAY of her summer vacation, Jamie Flaherty sighed happily and wiggled her brightly painted toenails, letting the sun soak into her mostly bared skin. She wouldn’t stay out long, she promised herself, thinking of all the damage excessive exposure could do to a woman’s skin. But it felt so good to just sit and soak up rays for a few blissfully lazy moments.
In the end, it was vanity that forced her to move into the protective shade of a poolside awning. A few months away from her twenty-ninth birthday, she had no intention of risking premature wrinkles; she planned to fight aging as long as modern technology made it possible.
She slid a pair of sunglasses from the top of her head onto her nose and glanced around, taking stock of the others who were enjoying the neighborhood pool on this Monday afternoon in early June. There weren’t many, since most people worked on weekdays—unless, like Jamie, they were fortunate enough to have summers off. Five or six children made use of the shallow end of the pool, some in inflated arm-bands, others showing off swim-class skills. Three women sat in chairs nearby, chatting as they kept watch over their kids.
A little boy of four or five sat on the edge of the pool about halfway down, splashing his feet in the deeper water. His blond hair was dry, and he didn’t look as though he’d been in the pool at all. He didn’t seem unhappy or bored, Jamie decided. Just thoughtful. There was only one adult in the water, a young woman playing with a squealing toddler in a floating plastic seat. The little girl was blond, and reminded Jamie of the boy sitting on the side of the pool. Siblings?
And then her attention wandered again.
At the deeper end of the pool, near the diving board, half a dozen teenagers postured for each other, though most of the local teens hung out at the more popular new pool on the west side of town. A young lifeguard slouched in an elevated seat, his attention focused more on a couple of pretty teenage bodies than on his duties.
Stretching out in her shaded lounge chair, Jamie smiled as she remembered the long-ago days when she and other girls her age had worked so diligently—but so subtly, they had believed—to distract buff young lifeguards. Her smile deepened as she fondly recalled how often they had succeeded.
“I know that smile. It always means you’re up to mischief,” a familiar voice observed.
“Just remembering mischief.” Jamie nodded toward the bikinied teenagers posing for the lifeguard’s benefit.
Susan Schedler groaned as she lowered her very pregnant body into the chair next to Jamie’s. “Oh, God. Was I ever that young and thin?”
“Hey, we were hot stuff.” Jamie pulled her gaze away from the girls to smile fondly at her longtime friend.
Susan glanced pointedly at Jamie’s hot-pink bikini. “One of us still is.”
“That’s very nice. Thank you.”
“Just stating facts.” Susan lay back in her chair and rested a hand lightly on her bulging belly.
“How are you feeling today?”
Since Jamie had asked, Susan launched into a detailed analysis of her condition and how impatient she was to reach the end of it. Most of her attention on her friend’s words, Jamie allowed her gaze to wander again. The teens had stepped up their flirting, she noticed. One of the girls had “accidentally” positioned herself so the lifeguard could look straight down her bikini top. With a frown, Jamie realized that he was taking full advantage of the silent offer.
While she had identified with the kids earlier, it perturbed her that the lifeguard was allowing his concentration to be drawn away from the pool. Jamie had worked as a lifeguard for three summers, and she knew the young man had been trained to resist distractions.
She glanced again at the shallow end, where children were still splashing and squealing. The young woman still played with the toddler in the floating seat, and the three women in the poolside chairs were heavily into a gossip session. Murmuring a response to something Susan said, Jamie turned her eyes to the spot where the little boy had been sitting. He’d moved, she noted. He’d probably given in to the lure of the cool water. She looked at the shallow end again, casually searching for his golden head among the other kids. She didn’t see him. Was she simply overlooking him? Kids looked different wet, of course.
Something drew her eyes back to the spot where she’d last seen him. The water was just over eight feet deep there, she estimated. She knew there were kids below the age of six who swam like fish, but he’d looked so small and alone.
She glanced automatically toward the bottom of the pool.
A moment later, she was on her feet, her heart in her throat. She reached the side in two steps, slinging off her sunglasses before making a clean, shallow dive.
The boy was lying facedown on the bottom of the pool. Jamie scooped him into one arm and kicked forcefully toward the surface. By the time she reached the side of the pool, the others had just realized what was taking place. The lifeguard, his face pale, was there immediately to lift the little boy out of her arms.
Jamie heard someone scream, heard a couple of the younger children start to cry, heard the panicked, excited babbling of the teenagers, but her eyes were on the child as she boosted herself out of the pool and rushed to kneel beside him. Still flustered by being caught so unprepared, the lifeguard hesitated, and Jamie automatically took charge. The child had a pulse, thank God, but he didn’t seem to be breathing. She rolled him onto his side, and lifted one arm above his head, hoping that would clear his lungs. She was prepared to do artificial respiration, but she was incredibly relieved when he began to cough and gag.
Steadying him, Jamie watched as liquid sputtered from his mouth. He’d taken some water into his lungs, she realized, relieved that someone had run to call an ambulance. He hadn’t been underwater more than a couple of minutes, so there should be minimal danger of brain damage, but there was always a chance of complications from water in the lungs. Pneumonia, for one, she remembered. The child should definitely be checked out by trained medical personnel.
He was crying now, in choked, gulping sobs. Jamie drew him into her arms, murmuring reassurances. “You’ll be fine, sweetie. Just fine.”
“I didn’t see him,” the lifeguard muttered in a trembling voice. “I never even heard a splash.”
“A child this small doesn’t make much of a splash,” Jamie answered, trying to speak gently despite her annoyance with him. She could tell he would pay for his negligence by painfully imagining what might have happened had she not been there.
“Oh, God, is Sam all right? His dad is going to kill me.” The young woman who’d been playing with the toddler rushed to Jamie’s side, the dripping little girl on her hip.
The boy—Sam—buried his face more tightly in her neck, whimpering and shivering. Instincts Jamie hadn’t known she possessed kicked in, making her cradle the wet little body closer. Suddenly feeling smothered by the pressing crowd of gawkers, she looked at the lifeguard. “Maybe you could send everyone back to what they were doing?” she suggested in a low murmur.
He nodded, gathered his composure and stood, giving a short blast of his whistle. “Okay, everyone, back up and give the kid some room. You’re making him nervous staring at him this way.”
Even as the spectators slowly moved away, Jamie could hear a siren approaching in the distance. She looked up at the frantic woman with the little girl on her hip. The woman couldn’t have been much more than twenty. Her face was pale, her eyes wide and horrified as she stared at the shivering boy. “Is he yours?” Jamie asked.
“I’m their nanny. Oh, ma’am, is Sam all right? I’ll never forgive myself if—”
“He’s fine,” Jamie broke in quickly, patting the boy’s back and speaking in a tone meant to calm both him and the overwrought nanny. “Sam’s going to be just fine.”
“He was sitting on the side,” the nanny babbled. “He wouldn’t come in the water, so I told him to stay put while I played with Abbie. I checked on him a couple of times and he was fine. Then I looked at Abbie again, and the next thing I knew, you were pulling him out of the pool. Sam, why did you go in the water? You know you can’t swim.”
“I slipped,” the child murmured into Jamie’s neck. “I was just going to stand up and I fell in the water.”
“It’s okay,” Jamie said. “No one’s blaming you, Sam.” There was plenty of blame to spread around, she thought, but none of it was Sam’s.
Two medics rushed into the fenced pool area. Sam’s arms had to be pried from around Jamie’s neck. Apparently painfully shy of strangers, he refused to respond when the medics tried to talk to him, and he cried when they told him they were going to take him to be checked out.
“Go with me,” he begged Jamie.
Startled by the request, she stroked his wet hair. “Your nanny and your little sister will go with you, Sam.”
“He doesn’t like me much,” the young nanny said morosely. “I don’t know why.”
Jamie had a few guesses, but she kept them to herself. “You’ll be fine, Sam,” she assured the frightened little boy. “These people are very nice and they’ll take good care of you.”
“I’ll call your dad and have him meet us at the hospital,” his nanny promised. “You know he’ll drop everything and be there in no time.”
That seemed to reassure him. “My daddy will be there?”
“As soon as I call him.” She seemed to have no doubt about it.
“Sam,” little Abbie said from the nanny’s hip, waving happily at her brother.
Sam allowed himself to be taken away, though he looked soulfully over his shoulder at Jamie—as though he was leaving his only friend behind, she thought with an odd feeling.
She scraped her fingers through her short, wet, red hair, pushing it away from her face as she watched them leave. The lifeguard turned sheepishly to Jamie. “I’m sure glad you were here, ma’am.”
“Just keep your mind on your job from now on, okay?” Reaction had finally set in, leaving her weak-kneed and a bit shaky.
“I will,” he said fervently, and dashed back to his post.
The teenagers had gathered again at the other side, the incident already forgotten since it didn’t actually affect them. The three women who’d been sitting by the shallow end of the pool earlier were gathering their charges and their possessions, ready to leave as dinnertime approached. Susan, who had stayed back out of the way during the excitement, put her hand on Jamie’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”
Jamie’s smile felt lopsided. “I’m fine.”
“That was amazing, Jamie. You moved so fast, my head is still spinning. If you hadn’t been here…”
Jamie didn’t even want to think about that. “I just happened to notice him. I guess old lifeguard habits die hard.”
“At least someone around here benefited from rescue training.” Susan looked darkly at the lifeguard, who sat now watching the almost-empty pool with intense vigilance. “With all the people at the pool today, word will get out. I’m sure he’ll be reprimanded for what almost happened.”
Jamie remembered the stricken look in the young man’s eyes. “I think he learned his lesson.”
Susan held out Jamie’s sunglasses. “These are yours, I believe.”
She took them and slid them onto her nose. “Thanks.”
Making a production of wiping her forehead, Susan sighed gustily. “To think I came to the pool to relax for a few minutes. How could I have guessed it would be this exciting?”
Almost shuddering as she recalled the moment she’d spotted little Sam at the bottom of the pool—and knowing she would be haunted by that image for some time—Jamie murmured, “Personally, I could have done without the excitement.”
Susan turned serious again. “What you did was incredible, Jamie. Maybe someone else would have spotted him in time to save him, but there’s no guarantee. And by getting to him so quickly, you probably prevented him from having any lasting repercussions.”
Jamie was becoming embarrassed by Susan’s praise. “I’m just glad I was here to help,” she said dismissively, matching her steps to her friend’s as they walked together toward the exit.
“Not half as glad as Trevor McBride’s going to be,” Susan commented.
Jamie stumbled. Trevor McBride? She steadied herself quickly. “What does Trevor McBride have to do with anything?”
Susan’s eyebrows rose. “Didn’t you know? Sam is Trevor’s son.”
“No,” Jamie murmured, turning her face to hide her expression. “I didn’t know.”
Trevor’s son. The incident had just taken on a whole new significance for her.
Had things turned out the way she had once fantasized, she would have been the mother of Trevor McBride’s children.
“YOU’RE SURE he’s going to be okay? There’s nothing else I should watch for?” Trevor couldn’t seem to let go of his son, who had been clinging tightly to his neck for the past twenty minutes.
The doctor who had examined the boy smiled reassuringly. “Sam’s going to be fine, Mr. McBride. He took in very little water and he was apparently conscious throughout the entire episode. According to your nanny, he was only underwater for a very short time. He was more terrified than anything. You should probably watch for emotional repercussions. Perhaps you should get him into swimming lessons soon to keep him from developing a permanent fear of water as a result of this.”
“Thanks. I’ll keep your advice in mind.”
Just the mention of swimming lessons had made Sam hide his face again. He’d never liked water, and didn’t trust strangers enough to take instructions easily from them—something Trevor was hoping they could change by the time he started kindergarten.
Becky Rhodes, the nanny Trevor had hired only a month earlier, was sitting in the waiting room with Abbie, who’d fallen asleep on her lap. She looked up anxiously when Trevor carried Sam out of the examining room. “Is he okay?”
“He’s fine,” Trevor answered shortly, resisting an impulse to add, No thanks to you.
Becky sagged in relief. “I’m so glad. I’m really sorry about this, Mr. McBride. I was busy with Abbie and he just fell in. I never saw him.”
Trevor’s arms tightened instinctively around his son. “Thank God the lifeguard saw him.”
Becky snorted. “The lifeguard had nothing to do with it. He was too busy flirting with a bunch of girls. If that woman hadn’t noticed Sam in the pool…”
Trevor had rushed straight into the examining room upon his arrival at the hospital. He hadn’t yet heard the details of his son’s rescue. “What woman?”
“The new drama teacher at the high school. You know, the one with the really red hair and lots of earrings and cool clothes? Ms. Flaherty. I think her first name is Jamie.”
“Jamie Flaherty,” Trevor murmured, his mind filling with almost fifteen-year-old memories of a young woman who had tempted him to be wild and reckless for the first time in his life. “Jamie Flaherty saved my son?”
Eyeing him a bit warily, Becky nodded. “Yes.”
Masking his feelings, Trevor motioned toward the exit. “I’ll drive you home. Can you carry Abbie?”
“Of course.” Becky shifted the sleeping baby to her shoulder.
Trevor scooped up the diaper bag and followed her out of the hospital, grimly aware that there were several things he had to take care of that evening—and none of them were going to be easy. Finding Jamie Flaherty to thank her for rescuing his son was one of the most awkward, but necessary, chores he faced.
The last time he had talked to Jamie, he’d rather bluntly told her that his future plans did not include her. Holding his son tightly in his arms, he was aware of a mixed sense of gratitude and dismay that she had reappeared in his life at this particular time.

2
IT WAS NEARLY EIGHT that evening when Trevor rang Jamie’s doorbell. She lived only a few blocks away, though her little bungalow was considerably smaller than the two-story, four-bedroom house he’d purchased after moving back to Honoria ten months ago.
He had never expected to find himself on her doorstep.
He rang the bell again. He could hear music playing inside. Loud, pulsing rock music. No wonder she couldn’t hear the bell. Maybe he should just forget about this, he thought, glancing toward his car. But she had saved his son’s life. The very least he owed her was a thank-you. He pressed the bell again. The music abruptly stopped.
“All right,” a woman’s voice called. “I’m coming. Keep your pants on, okay?”
She opened the door. After only a moment’s pause, she cocked her head and planted a hand on her slender hip. “Why, Trevor McBride. Fancy finding you here.”
The last time Trevor had last seen Jamie, she had been a sophomore in high school, he’d been a senior. Despite her instant recognition, he knew he’d changed a great deal since then. With the exception of her hair color, he couldn’t see that Jamie had changed much at all. The years had been extremely kind to her.
He took a moment to study her. Looking as though she had just run her hand through it, her dark red hair stood in damp spikes around her face, which was flushed and beaded with perspiration. She wore a towel around her neck, a turquoise T-shirt, black shorts, baggy socks and expensive-looking athletic shoes. Several stud earrings decorated each of her ears, but he didn’t see any other jewelry. If she had worn any makeup earlier, it was gone now.
The grubby look had never particularly appealed to him. But on Jamie, it was most definitely appealing. He had always found himself drawn to her, even when he’d made every effort to resist the attraction.
That was something else that hadn’t changed, apparently.
He lifted his gaze to her face, seeing himself reflected in her vividly green eyes. “Did I interrupt something?”
“Tae-Bo.” She wiped her face with one corner of the towel. “Wanna join me for a quick punch-and-kick?”
“No, thank you,” he answered politely.
She grinned. “The last time we talked, I think I asked if you wanted to duck behind the gym for a little kiss-and-grope,” she mused. “And I’m pretty sure you took me up on it.”
He cleared his throat, refusing to be drawn into his youthful indiscretions. He definitely remembered when he had first kissed her behind the gym. And he remembered just as clearly telling her it couldn’t happen again. Even though it had on an occasion or two. “The reason I’m here…”
She laughed…exactly the same way she’d laughed at him almost fifteen years ago. And it made him feel as awkward and self-conscious now as it had then. How could she still do that to him? “I know why you’re here,” she said. “And it has nothing to do with a stroll down memory lane.”
“No. I wanted to…”
She moved out of the doorway. “Come in, Trev. I need a drink.”
No one else had ever called him Trev. He wouldn’t have let anyone else get away with it. Somehow, it had always sounded sort of natural coming from Jamie. “I can’t stay long,” he said, glancing at his watch. “My mom’s sitting with the kids and—”
“We’ll just have a quick drink,” she said over her shoulder.
He could either follow her or be left standing alone on her porch. With a rather wistful glance back at his car, he stepped through the doorway and closed the door behind him.
It was no surprise to discover that Jamie’s decorating was as vivid and unconventional as she was. An almost dizzying array of fabrics and colors clashed and competed with a number of objects Jamie had collected. His gaze slid from a six-inch plastic Statue of Liberty to a porcelain figurine of Marilyn Monroe, then paused for a moment on one of the dozens of framed photographs in the room. This one showed Jamie snuggled up to a man who looked suspiciously like a famous television comedian. Next to it was a shot of Jamie mugging with an Academy Award–winning actress.
There were others, but he didn’t take time to study them all. Nor would he allow himself to be impressed. After all, Jamie’s New York acting career had lasted less than ten years, and now she was teaching drama at the local high school. Like him, Jamie had ended up right back where she had started.
He wondered if her return had been any happier than his own.
Without bothering to ask if he wanted anything, Jamie poured bottled water over two glasses of ice and pressed one into his hand. She drank half her own without pausing for air, then set the glass on the counter, her full, unpainted lips glistening with drops of moisture. “Before you launch into the speech I’m sure you’ve carefully prepared, I just want to say that there’s really no need. I happened to be close by when your son fell into the pool this afternoon and I jumped in to pull him out. Anyone else would have done the same thing.”
“But no one else did,” he replied. “You saved Sam’s life, Jamie. There’s no way for me to adequately express my gratitude.”
“Let’s just stick with ‘thank you’ and ‘you’re welcome,’ shall we?”
His lips twitched, though he was trying not to smile. This was too important. “Thank you.”
She nodded briskly. “You’re welcome.”
“It isn’t enough, you know. Not for what you did.”
She shrugged. “I’m just glad I was there.”
“So am I,” he agreed, his tone heartfelt.
She picked up her glass. “Let’s take these into the living room.”
Once again, he had to follow or be left behind. He took a sip of his water, then left the full glass on the counter as he trailed her into the other room. “Jamie…”
She kicked off her shoes and curled up on her jewel-tone striped couch, waving him into a nearby chair. “Your kids are adorable, Trevor.”
“Thank you.” He wasn’t sure what else to say. He had expressed his gratitude—at least, as much as she had allowed him to—which was all he’d intended to do. He hadn’t planned on an extended visit. After all, despite a couple of memorable past encounters, he and Jamie Flaherty were basically strangers.
“How old are they?”
“Sam turned five last month. Abbie’s fourteen months.”
“I heard that your wife died last year. I’m sorry.”
He had no intention of talking about his late wife. He merely nodded in response to her expression of sympathy.
“Are you a good father?”
She asked the question completely seriously, as if he should be able to easily reply with a simple yes or no. Even when they were kids, he’d never known quite how to respond to many of the things Jamie said. “I do my best.”
“Your nanny—”
“I fired her this evening.”
Jamie blinked. “You fired her?”
“She almost let my son drown. She told me herself that she never saw him go in the water. She knew he couldn’t swim.”
“She was playing with Abbie. She seemed very fond of her.”
“Yes, she was good with Abbie,” he conceded. “But she didn’t bond well with Sam. Because she couldn’t communicate well with him, she tended to ignore him. I have two kids. I need someone who will look after both of them while I’m working.”
Jamie studied his face a moment. “You always were a bit intolerant of other people’s failings.”
“When it comes to my children’s safety, I will always demand perfection,” he answered flatly, oddly stung by her criticism.
“Of course.”
He couldn’t quite read her expression now. Satisfied that he’d made his point, he added, “Tomorrow, I’ll make sure that sorry excuse for a lifeguard loses his job, as well.”
“I hope you don’t do that. He’s young. The pool’s only been open for a couple of weeks. He was completely shaken by what almost happened today. I’m sure he’ll be more vigilant from now on.”
“Not at the pool where my children swim, he won’t.”
Jamie’s eyes narrowed. “Funny,” she said, her voice soft. “I remembered you being stuffy and arrogant, but I never thought of you as a complete jerk.”
“Jamie, he almost let my son drown!”
“He made a mistake. A huge one, I’ll admit, but I think he deserves a second chance. Do you expect me to believe that you have never in your life made a mistake, Trevor McBride?”
“No.” His voice was grim. “I don’t expect you to believe that.”
“Give the boy another chance. Have him reprimanded, if you like—or do it yourself—but don’t make him lose his job.”
Even when they’d been young, even when Trevor had known Jamie would only bring him trouble, she’d always been able to sway him. He sighed. “All right. I won’t have him fired. But I hope you’re right that he’ll do a better job in the future. Lives literally depend on it.”
“I know. And I wouldn’t risk them recklessly,” she assured him.
“I’ll take your word for it.” He watched as she shifted on the couch, folding her long, bare legs into a more comfortable position. Her baggy shorts gapped at the tops of her legs, revealing intriguing glimpses of smooth thighs. His reaction to those glimpses made him scowl and abruptly raise his gaze to her face again. “I heard you’d moved back here,” he said. “I have to admit I was surprised.”
“I came back in March,” she acknowledged. “My aunt, who still teaches at the elementary school, called me about the opening for a drama teacher at the high school for the remainder of the second semester. The former teacher hadn’t planned to leave for a couple of years, but when her husband was diagnosed with cancer, she retired to take care of him. They needed someone on very short notice, and I just happened to be available.”
“I didn’t even know you had teaching credentials.”
“My college degree was in secondary education with a theater minor. I’ve always believed in having a back-up plan, and teaching was mine. I worked as a sub in New York schools between acting gigs. This job’s a piece of cake compared to that experience.”
“I can imagine. So, are you staying on now that the school year’s finished, or are you headed back to Broadway?”
“I spent much more time off-Broadway and off-off-Broadway,” she corrected him with a wrinkle of her short nose. “I was ready for a change. I’ve signed on for another year at Honoria High. The kids want to put on a production of Grease in the spring, and I promised to help them.”
“Sounds like a big job.”
“It should take most of the school year to put it together. We’re going to do a smaller production in December—A Christmas Carol, maybe, or The Best Christmas Pageant Ever. I’ll also be teaching speech classes.”
“So you’re giving up acting?”
“I didn’t say that. I’m just taking a break for a couple of years.”
Trevor knew what a two-year “break” could do to an acting career—especially for a woman nearing thirty. There was more to Jamie’s story than she had told him—not that it was any of his business, of course. But he wondered how long she would be content to live in Honoria after her years in New York.
He wondered how many people were speculating about him in much the same way.
Glancing again at his watch, he stood. “I have to get back to the kids. Thanks again, Jamie. If you ever need anything…I owe you one.”
Her mouth tilted into a funny smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.” She pushed herself slowly off the couch and walked him to the door. “It’s good to see you again, Trev.”
“It’s good to see you, too.” Which was, he decided, the truth in a strange sort of way. “Good night, Jamie.”
Her arm brushed his when she reached unexpectedly around him to open the door. His reaction to the casual touch seemed out of proportion—which only illustrated how stressful his day had been, he mused. It had left him completely rattled. He made his exit while he could still do so with something approaching dignity.
JAMIE WAITED until Trevor had closed the door behind him before she sagged bonelessly onto the couch. Oh, wow, she thought dazedly. The guy had been gorgeous in high school. He was even more so now that he had a few years of maturity on him.
He still seemed as skittish and elusive with her as he had ever been. And he still looked at her in a way that made her heart pound in her throat. It gave her some comfort that she had managed to hide her reactions to him.
This time, she told herself, she would not let Trevor break her heart. If anything happened between them now—and she still wasn’t ruling that out—it would be on her terms.
AS WITH MOST small Southern towns, shopping at the local discount superstore in Honoria was a major social event. Sooner or later, everyone ended up there. It was almost impossible to stop in even to grab a couple of items without running into someone you knew. There were several women who wouldn’t dare go shopping for toilet paper without doing their hair and makeup.
Dressed in a striped tank top, khaki shorts and heavy leather sandals, Jamie ran a hand through her short hair and applied a light coating of lip gloss, the full extent of her primping before she entered the store Friday afternoon. She bumped into three people before she could even claim a shopping cart. All of them wanted to talk about what had happened at the swimming pool earlier in the week.
She was exasperated, but not particularly surprised, to learn that the incident had become rather exaggerated in the frequent retelling—particularly her part in it.
“Risking your own life to save that boy,” silver-haired Mildred Scott said in breathless admiration. “You should be given some sort of award for heroism, Jamie.”
Gripping the rickety cart she’d managed to snag, Jamie answered with strained patience. “My life was never at risk, Mrs. Scott. The water wasn’t all that deep. All I did was lift the boy out.”
Clearly preferring the more interesting version she’d heard, Mrs. Scott smiled knowingly and patted Jamie’s arm. “You’re being modest. That’s very becoming of you, but I still think I’ll ask Chief Davenport about that award. Or maybe the mayor.”
“Mrs. Scott, I would really rather you didn’t—”
Without waiting to be dissuaded, the older woman bustled away, as if to act while the idea was still fresh. Jamie sighed, shook her head in resignation and pushed her cart toward the health-and-beauty aids section of the store. A trio of teenagers emerged from the cosmetics aisle, their hands filled with rainbow-colored nail polishes, eye shadows and lip glosses. “Hi, Ms. Flaherty,” they chimed in unison, instantly adopting the tone every kid seems to use around a schoolteacher.
Though she knew she didn’t particularly look like a teacher at the moment, Jamie found herself automatically answering in her own “schoolmarm” voice. “Hello, girls. Enjoying your vacation so far?”
They all nodded eagerly, then hurried away, giggling and whispering. Feeling suddenly years older, Jamie tossed a box of facial tissues into her cart. Funny how age was relative, she mused as she moved toward the toothpaste section. To old Mrs. Scott, Jamie was still just a girl. But to the teenagers, her twenty-nine years must seem almost ancient.
Discount philosophy, she thought with a wry smile. How appropriate for her current surroundings. She added dental floss to her cart and headed for cleaning supplies.
The store was a noisy place. Frequent announcements sounded over the intercom, dozens of conversations swirled around her, mothers scolded whining children and several babies cried in shrill stereo. Jamie often enjoyed spending time just people-watching in places like this, but today she had quite a few other things she wanted to get done. She grabbed a spray bottle of glass cleaner from a shelf and tossed it on top of her other selections.
Two more items on her list, and she could escape.
A sudden tug at the hem of her shorts made her glance downward. She raised her eyebrows in surprise when she recognized the little blond boy gazing somberly up at her. “Well, hello, Sam.”
“Hello,” he replied without returning her smile. He kept his big blue eyes trained unwaveringly on her face.
“Are you here with your dad?” Jamie looked around for Trevor before turning her gaze back to Sam.
The boy shook his head. “I’m with Grandma.”
“Where is she?”
“Over there.” Sam pointed vaguely to one side.
“Does she know where you are?”
The boy shrugged, obviously unconcerned.
Funny child, Jamie thought, studying his serious little face. She assumed he laughed occasionally, but she had yet to hear it. He gazed up at her as if waiting for her to do or say something interesting, making her feel oddly self-conscious. “Um…so how are you, Sam?”
“Good,” he answered, then fell silent again, still looking expectantly up at her.
She was thinking about bursting into a song-and-tap-dance number—just to keep from disappointing him—when Bobbie McBride’s familiar voice came from behind her. “There you are, Sam! Why did you run off from me like…Oh, hello, Jamie.”
Feeling much the way the teenagers who’d greeted her earlier had probably felt, Jamie responded politely to her former teacher. “Hello, Mrs. McBride.”
Bobbie shook a finger at her. “I’ve told you to call me Bobbie. We’re colleagues now. And I still owe you a big debt of gratitude for rescuing my grandson.”
Since Bobbie had already telephoned Jamie to express her thanks, Jamie saw no need to go over it all again now. To change the subject, she smiled at the rosy-cheeked toddler in the seat of Bobbie’s shopping cart. “Hi, Abbie. How are you today?”
“Moo,” the tot replied clearly.
“We’ve been playing the animal-sounds game,” Bobbie explained. “Abbie just told you what a cow says.”
“Of course she did. That’s very good, Abbie.”
The little girl laughed and clapped her hands. Her more serious-natured brother tugged again at Jamie’s shorts. “I got a new book,” he said when he had her attention.
“Did you? What is it?”
Sam reached into his grandmother’s cart. “This one.”
“Berenstein Bears.” Jamie nodded approval. “I’ve always enjoyed their stories. This looks like a good one.”
“It’s about Brother Bear and Sister Bear spending the night at their grandmother’s house,” Sam volunteered.
“Yes, I see. I’m sure you’ll like it.” She gave the book back to him. “Do you like to read, Sam?”
Bobbie, who wasn’t known to be quiet for long, answered for her grandson. “Sam’s always got a book in his hands—just like his daddy when he was a boy.”
“All that reading certainly paid off for Trevor,” she murmured. Jamie had once considered Trevor McBride the smartest boy at Honoria High. She’d also thought him the most attractive guy in Honoria. Remembering the way he’d looked the other night, with his neatly brushed dark blond hair, his serious blue eyes, his clean-shaven, strongly chiseled chin and cheekbones, she reminded herself that she hadn’t changed her opinion about either of those things.
Bobbie abruptly changed the subject. “I’d like to have you to dinner. Our way of thanking you again for coming to Sam’s rescue.”
“That’s very kind of you, but it isn’t—”
“Are you free tomorrow evening? Seven o’clock?”
“Well, I—”
“Good. We’ll look forward to seeing you then. Come along, Sam. We have to be going.”
Sam was still gazing up at Jamie. “You’re coming to dinner at Grandma’s house?”
Jamie couldn’t help wondering if anyone had ever successfully turned Bobbie down. “It seems that I am.”
“Will you sit by me?”
“I would be delighted,” she assured him.
Bobbie looked from her grandson to Jamie. “He certainly seems taken with you. He’s usually shy with strangers.”
“Sam and I are pals, aren’t we, Sammy?”
He nodded and Jamie was pleased to see a shy smile playing at the corners of his mouth. Maybe she would even hear him laugh before the dinner party ended.
“Moo!” Abbie shouted gleefully, unwilling to be ignored for long.
Pushing the cart, Bobbie instructed Sam to follow her to the checkouts. He did, but he looked over his shoulder at Jamie until he was out of sight.
“Odd child,” she murmured, shaking her head in bemusement. She supposed he came by it honestly. The McBrides were a notoriously offbeat family, though Bobbie and her husband Caleb seemed to be the least scandal-prone of the bunch.
EXPECTING BOBBIE TO ANSWER her doorbell the next evening, Jamie was caught momentarily off guard when Trevor opened the door, instead. She recovered quickly, regarding him with a faint smile she knew he would have trouble interpreting. “Hello, handsome.”
She had always enjoyed flustering him, which probably explained why she tried to do so as often as possible. She figured it was as good a way as any to keep him from realizing how often he flustered her.
She had suffered such a huge crush on him when she’d been a teenager, a crush she’d hoped at times that he shared. She had made no secret of her attraction to him, and she’d done everything possible to get his attention. It had shattered her secret daydreams when he had told her on the night before his graduation that he wouldn’t be seeing her anymore. He’d said they were too different—in age, in goals, in everything—and that there was no reason for them to pursue anything that couldn’t go anywhere. He had graduated and gone off to the East Coast for college and law school, and then had settled in Washington, D.C., with a wife from a suitably aristocratic Virginia family.
Even she didn’t know quite how she felt about him now, though her stomach still fluttered when he looked at her in that serious, searching way of his. Much the same way his son looked at her, she thought suddenly, realizing now why she’d reacted so strongly to young Sam.
A lot of things had changed since the last time she and Trevor had been together. The three-year age difference no longer mattered, and the very different career paths they had chosen to pursue had somehow led them back to the same place. She was becoming increasingly curious to find out what else had changed since he had so awkwardly let her down before.
Trevor chose to acknowledge her teasing greeting with a rather formal, “Good evening, Jamie. Please come in. Mother’s in the kitchen putting finishing touches to dinner, but she’ll be out soon.”
She sauntered past him, giving an extra little flip to the vented skirt of her short, sleeveless sheath dress—just in case he was looking at her legs. She could hear several voices coming from the living room, and she turned to Trevor to stall for a moment before joining the others. “It was nice of your mother to invite me to dinner.”
“Are you kidding? You’re the family hero. Mom would have liked to have a parade in your honor, but she settled for a dinner party.”
Jamie wrinkled her nose. “I tried to tell her it wasn’t necessary to make such a big deal of this. I really didn’t do anything all that spectacular.”
“You saved my son,” he said gently. “If Mom had insisted on a parade, I’d have gladly helped her plan it.”
Had she been prone to blushing, she would have been beet red. Instead, she reverted to dry humor. “But would you lead the band? You’d look really cute wearing one of those tall hats and holding a baton.”
He gave her a look. “As grateful as I am to you, there are limits.”
She laughed, pleased that she’d provoked him into acting more natural. She really didn’t want to spend the entire evening being treated like some sort of movie heroine—especially by Trevor.
She would just have to do her best to make him look at her in a different light, she mused.

3
CALEB MCBRIDE WAS the first to greet Jamie when Trevor escorted her into the living room. She smiled when he approached with a look of warm welcome on his pleasant face. Aware that there were other adults and several children in the room, she concentrated solely on her host for the moment.
Probably in his early sixties, Caleb had perfected the image of small-town Southern lawyer—genial, personable, courteous, but tough when he needed to be. Though she didn’t know him very well, Jamie had always liked him, even as she suspected that he was as consummate an actor as any she’d met on stage. Perhaps it was purely circumstance, but Caleb couldn’t have played his role in Honoria more perfectly if he’d followed a detailed script.
“It’s good to see you, Jamie,” he said, taking her hand in both of his. “After what you did, you will always be an honored guest in our home.”
She hoped she wouldn’t have to spend the entire evening trying to respond to comments like that. Deciding distraction was her best defense, she gave him a cheeky smile and said, “It’s always good to see you, too, Mr. McBride. I swear, you get better-looking every time I see you. If you weren’t married…”
He chuckled, obviously flattered. “If I weren’t married, I would still be twice your age.”
Someone tugged on her skirt. Jamie looked down.
“I’m not married,” Sam assured her, gazing seriously up at her.
Everyone in the room laughed, except Jamie, who didn’t want to hurt the boy’s feelings—and Trevor, she noted peripherally. “Still playing the field, are you, Sam? That’s understandable from a handsome young guy like you.”
Though he didn’t appear to quite understand Jamie’s comment, Sam seemed satisfied to have momentarily claimed her attention. He stood close to her side when she turned to greet the others. She wasn’t particularly surprised to see the police chief, Wade Davenport, and his wife, Emily. Emily was Caleb’s niece, and had been a year behind Jamie in school. She had been the only McBride of her generation who had stayed and settled in Honoria instead of moving on in search of greener pastures. Trevor, of course, was the only one who had returned after moving away—for reasons Jamie couldn’t help being curious about.
“How are you, Emily?” she asked.
Holding a baby no more than a few months old in her arms, the pretty, blue-eyed blonde beamed with visible contentment. “I’m fine, thank you, Jamie. You know my husband, Wade, of course?”
Jamie glanced at the solidly built, ruggedly attractive, thirty-something cop. “Hello, Chief. Caught any dangerous criminals lately?”
He gave her a lazy smile. “Not since I stopped you for speeding last week.”
Hearing what might have been a faint sigh from Trevor, Jamie pouted for effect. “I was only going five miles over the speed limit.”
“You were doing sixty in a forty-five zone and you know it,” Wade retorted. “I let you off easy by only citing you for five-miles-over. Next time, I won’t be so generous.”
“Wade, Jamie just saved my grandson’s life,” Caleb chided. “Is it really necessary to threaten her this evening?”
“It wasn’t a threat—just a warning.”
Jamie smiled and stuck out her hand to him. “Warning heeded. I’ll watch my speed from now on. And no hard feelings, Chief.”
“Of course not.” Wade shook her hand, then waved toward the red-haired lad sitting on the couch and playing a handheld electronic game. “This is my son, Clay. Boy, remember your manners, will you? Come shake hands with Ms. Flaherty.”
Clay Davenport, whom Jamie judged to be around eleven, somewhat reluctantly set the game aside and rose. “Hello, Ms. Flaherty,” he said, gravely shaking Jamie’s hand.
“It’s very nice to meet you, Clay.”
“Ms. Flaherty’s aunt was your fourth-grade teacher,” Wade informed his son.
Jamie’s smile deepened. “I think my aunt Ellen has taught every fourth-grader in Honoria for the past couple of generations.”
Clay shook his head. “My friend Pete had Mrs. Simmons.”
“She didn’t mean it literally, Clay,” Emily murmured, laying an affectionate hand on her stepson’s shoulder while cradling her infant daughter in her other arm. “How is your aunt, Jamie?”
“I talked to her yesterday. You know she and Uncle Bill are spending the summer in North Carolina? They love it there.”
“I’m happy to hear it. I understand she’s retiring after this coming school year.”
“Yes, they’re thinking about relocating permanently to a condo in North Carolina.”
“They’ll be missed here.”
Jamie was admiring baby Claire when Bobbie bustled into the room, immediately taking over with her brusque, authoritative manner. “Hello, Jamie. Glad you could make it. Dinner’s about ready. All I have to do is set everything out. Give me five minutes. Trevor, I think I heard Abbie fussing.”
Trevor nodded and moved toward the doorway. “I was just about to go check on her.”
“I’ll help you get dinner on the table, Aunt Bobbie,” Emily offered, handing the baby to her husband.
Jamie stepped forward. “Is there anything I can do?”
Bobbie shook her head. “Thank you, dear, but you’re our guest this evening. Visit with the men for a few minutes and we’ll call everyone when it’s time to eat.”
Jamie was left in the living room with Caleb, Sam, Wade, Clay and baby Claire. Sam still stood beside her, staring up at her in a way that reminded her of Eddie, the funny little terrier on the TV series Frasier. She was almost tempted to pat his head.
Caleb waved a hand toward the sofa. “Make yourself comfortable, Jamie. Can I get you anything to drink before dinner?”
“No, thank you.” She settled on one end of the comfortably overstuffed couch. Sam scrambled onto the cushion beside her. Caleb sank into a worn-looking recliner that was obviously “his” chair, while Wade chose a wooden rocking chair for himself and his daughter. Clay sat cross-legged on the floor, his attention fully reclaimed by his electronic game.
Never one to savor silence, Jamie spoke up. “How are Tara and Trent, Mr. McBride? It’s been ages since I’ve seen either of them.”
Caleb seemed pleased that she’d asked about his other two offspring. “Tara and a partner have a small law practice in Atlanta. Tara’s married to an unorthodox private investigator—Blake Fox—and they’re expecting their first child soon.”
Though Tara had been a few years ahead of her in school and they hadn’t known each other well, Jamie wasn’t surprised to hear that Tara was a successful attorney. She’d been an overachiever—just like her brother, Jamie thought as Trevor came back into the room carrying little Abbie. He sat on the opposite end of the couch, on the other side of Sam, balancing the toddler on his knee.
“Trent,” Caleb continued, as if there had been no interruption, “graduated from the air force academy. He’s training to be a fighter pilot, stationed in California right now, but he’s hoping for a transfer to Aviano, Italy, soon.”
“I doubt that his mother likes that.”
Caleb chuckled. “You’ve got that right. She complains frequently that all her children moved away from Honoria as soon as they graduated high school. She’s delighted, of course, that Trevor has come home to us so she can see the grandkids as often as she likes.”
Jamie turned to watch Trevor as he smoothed Abbie’s nap-rumpled hair. The ease of his movements spoke of experience, and made her see him more clearly as a single father, solely responsible for two very young and very vulnerable children. It was up to him, she mused, to make sure that they were fed, bathed and clothed, to take them to the doctor and the dentist, to tuck them into bed, dry their tears and soothe their fears. Having never been accountable for anyone but herself—not even a pet—Jamie could hardly imagine such awesome responsibility.
She wondered again about the children’s mother, who had died so tragically young. Trevor’s wife. Was he still in mourning for her? Had he returned to Honoria for his mother’s help with his children, or to escape the painful memories of his wife and the home they had shared in Washington? Maybe a little of both?
When she found herself wondering if he would ever fall in love again, she abruptly redirected her train of thought.
She turned to Wade. “I heard, of course, that Emily’s brother Lucas reappeared a couple of years ago. The town gossips must have had a field day.”
Wade nodded. “He came back for Christmas and stayed to attend our wedding on New Year’s Eve, eighteen months ago. And, yeah, the gossips nearly wore out their tongues when he showed up out of the blue after being gone fifteen years. More than half the town believed he’d murdered Roger Jennings before he left, and they weren’t too happy to hear he’d come back.”
“From what I’ve heard, he’s back in the town’s good graces now that everyone knows it was Roger’s uncle who was the real murderer. I could hardly believe that. Sam Jennings was my dentist when I was a kid! Who could have imagined then that he’d already killed twice and would kill again?”
“Lucas’s innocence certainly swayed public opinion in his favor,” Trevor commented dryly. “But not as much, perhaps, as the fact that he made himself a fortune in the California computer industry while he was away. The snobs were much more gracious to the rich businessman than they had been to the rebel he’d been before he left town.”
“That I believe,” Jamie murmured, thinking of times in the past when she had been shunned because of her own less-than-ideal family background. Being the only daughter of two alcoholics whose marital battles had been well know in the community, Jamie knew what it was like to grow up outside the tight social cliques in this town. “I’m glad Lucas has done well for himself. I understand he and Rachel Jennings were married and live in California.”
“They seem very happy,” Caleb agreed. “Lucas needed someone like Rachel to calm him down. He was always so hotheaded and volatile, and she’s so calm and restrained—they offset each other very well. They announced just last week that they’re expecting a baby. It’ll be interesting to see what kind of father Lucas makes.”
“Your family is growing rapidly,” Jamie commented.
Caleb nodded in visible satisfaction. As the only surviving member of his generation, he must be pleased that the McBride name would carry on, Jamie decided.
“Uncle Lucas designed this game,” young Clay remarked, proving that he’d been monitoring the adults’ conversation while seemingly engrossed in his toy. “It’s called a Rebelcom and it’s way cool.”
“You’ll have to show it to me after dinner,” Jamie suggested. “I have a weakness for cool electronics.”
Clay nodded and pushed another game button, returning to his play.
“I got one, too,” Sam piped up. “For my birthday. You can see mine, if you come to my house.”
Jamie smiled down at her young admirer. “Maybe I’ll do that sometime.”
She didn’t look at Trevor as she spoke, though she wondered how he felt about his son inviting her to their house.
“So now I’ve asked about all the McBride cousins except Savannah,” she commented, turning back to Caleb. “I know from the grapevine that she married the writer Christopher Pace and they divide their time between L.A. and Georgia. I assume she’s doing well?”
Caleb nodded at the mention of his late brother’s only daughter. “Savannah’s fine. Seems happy as a clam. Her husband is a decent guy, even if he does hang out some with those Hollywood types.”
Smiling, Jamie asked, “And her twins?”
“Teenagers now. Good kids, both of them, and they’re crazy about Kit. He legally adopted them. I sort of hated to see them give up the McBride name, but it seems to have made them feel more like a family, so I guess they made the right decision.”
Jamie hadn’t forgotten the big scandal when Savannah McBride, head cheerleader, homecoming queen, beauty pageant winner and pampered princess, had become pregnant with twins when she was sixteen. Jamie had been only ten or eleven at the time, but everyone in Honoria had known about Savannah’s predicament and the controversy that had ensued when she’d named Vince Hankins as the father—an accusation the high-school jock had cravenly denied. Jamie was glad Savannah and her children had turned out all right.
The McBrides had been providing fodder for the town gossips for years, she mused. It had been something that had made her feel a kinship with them, since she’d been the subject of some avid gossip herself during her admittedly reckless teen years.
“You haven’t mentioned your family yet this evening,” Caleb said, politely directing the conversations away from his own clan. “How is your mother?”
“She’s fine.” Jamie knew her tone had become stilted, but it always did when she talked of her mother. “She’s living in Birmingham now, close to her sister.”
“And your father?”
She felt her neck muscles tighten even more when she replied. “Last I heard, he was living in Montana. We don’t really stay in touch.”
“I see.”
There was a brief, awkward silence, which seemed to hold for several tense moments. Then Abbie laughed and babbled something, baby Claire fussed and Bobbie came into the room to announce that dinner was served. Relieved to have the attention diverted from herself, Jamie lifted her chin, pasted on a bright smile and rose to join the others as they moved toward the dining room.
THE MAIN COURSE was well under way by the time Trevor reached the conclusion that his son was seriously smitten. Sam had hardly taken his eyes off Jamie since she’d arrived. Unfortunately, Trevor was having a similar problem.
He knew what he saw in Jamie—the same things he’d noticed even back in high school. He couldn’t imagine any normal male being entirely immune to Jamie Flaherty’s less-than-subtle sexuality. But he wondered what it was about her that held his boy so enthralled. Her bright red hair—which, he recalled, had been a medium brown when he’d known her before? Her easy laugh and quick, expressive movements? The fact that she had saved Sam’s life?
Jamie couldn’t have been more opposite—outwardly, at least—to Trevor’s late wife, Melanie. Melanie had been quiet, dignified, so prim and neatly groomed as to be almost porcelain perfect. She’d had a sense of humor, but it had been understated, restrained. If someone had put them side by side, one might have compared Jamie to the sun—bright, conspicuous, hot—and Melanie to the moon—pale, quiet, cool. Like the moon, Melanie had kept her dark side hidden, even from her husband.
Abbie interrupted his uncharacteristic daydreaming by banging her spoon on the tray of her high chair. She squealed in delight at the ensuing clang and did it again. Trevor reached over to catch her hand. “No, Abbie. Eat,” he said, redirecting her attention to the bite-size pieces of food on the unbreakable plate in front of her.
Gazing at him with blue eyes that were exactly like her mother’s, Abbie gave him a slobbery grin. “Daddy,” she said.
His throat contracted, a now-familiar mixture of love and heartache he often felt when he looked at his tiny daughter. “Eat your dinner, Abbie,” he repeated a bit gruffly, holding a slice of banana to her rosy lips.
Once she was busy with her food again, he turned back to his own plate. His gaze collided abruptly with Jamie’s across the table, and he resisted the impulse to squirm in his seat. He couldn’t read her expression, but he had the uncomfortable sensation that she saw entirely too much when she looked at him.
As was often the case, Bobbie dominated the dinner conversation. Trevor loved his mother and knew she had a kind heart and a generous nature, but he wasn’t blind to her bossiness or her penchant for being a little overbearing. While there were a few people who couldn’t stand her, most folks overlooked her shortcomings in favor of her many good qualities. She’d been teaching in elementary school since before Trevor was born, and few questioned her competence—or her knack for running the most efficient and well-behaved classrooms in the school.
At the moment, she was on a diatribe about an incident that had happened to her through the locally owned bank where Emily had worked for several years, before quitting to be a full-time mother.
“All this new technology that’s supposed to make things easier for the customers—it’s just a lot of garbage,” Bobbie said bluntly. “I called yesterday to see if a check had cleared, and I spent forty-five minutes on the telephone with some girl giving me directions on how to use the new automated teller service. I told her I don’t want to talk to a recorded teller, and she said I had to learn how, because it would be much more ‘convenient’ for me in the long run. I want to know what’s ‘convenient’ about having to punch in a half-dozen code numbers and then listen to a recording I can hardly understand, hmm? She could have given me the information I needed in less than five minutes. Laziness, that’s what it is. No one wants to provide personal service anymore.”
“The automated teller system really isn’t that complicated once you learn it, Aunt Bobbie,” Emily responded, but even she didn’t look particularly convinced by her words.
“‘Automated teller.”’ The very term seemed to enrage Bobbie. “I’ll tell you the same as I told that girl. If everything’s going to be automated down there, why do they need a staff?”
“She’s got a point there, Emily,” Wade murmured, seeming to enjoy his wife’s discomfort.
Having gotten her complaint out of her system, Bobbie abruptly changed the subject. “I talked to Arnette Lynch yesterday,” she said, looking at Jamie as she mentioned the recently retired high-school drama teacher.
“How is her husband?” Jamie inquired politely.
“Still very weak from his chemotherapy treatments, I’m afraid, but Arnette said she thought he was feeling a bit better. She’s confident she made the right decision in retiring.”
“I’m sure she did.”
“I’m so glad you were available to take her place. The students are thrilled to have a real theater veteran teaching them.”
“I enjoy working with young actors,” Jamie responded. “They’re so eager and energetic. And some of them are quite talented.”
“What does talent have to do with casting an Honoria High School production?” Emily asked dryly. “Mrs. Lynch always gave the lead roles to the students from the most prominent local families, regardless of whether they could act or sing.”
Bobbie frowned. “That’s not a very kind thing to say, Emily.”
“But it’s true, Aunt Bobbie. I saw the performance of West Side Story last fall, remember? Mayor McQuade’s strawberry-blond, freckled daughter Joannie played Maria. No way did she look Puerto Rican—and the poor girl couldn’t act her way out of a paper bag.”
“Couldn’t sing worth a flip, either,” Caleb muttered. “Sounded like a cat with its tail caught in a wringer. It was all I could do to sit through the whole show—and that was only because Bobbie had a death grip on my arm to keep me from leaving.”
“Mrs. Lynch cast the popular, socially prominent kids back when I was in high school,” Trevor agreed bluntly. “Everyone always knew who would have the best roles—and they were rarely the best qualified.”
Jamie nodded somberly. “You never saw me hold the lead role at good ol’ HHS, did you?”
Trevor thought he heard a touch of old resentment in her voice.
“I was always lucky to get a few lines,” she continued, “even though Mrs. Lynch told me several times that she thought I had real talent.”
Wade, who’d moved to Honoria only a couple of years earlier, looked startled. “If she thought you had talent, how did she justify not giving you better roles?”
Jamie shrugged, and Trevor suspected there was a world of emotion hidden behind her matter-of-fact tone. “She said she would face too much controversy if she tried to buck the established system. She was afraid it would cut into her contributions and jeopardize her ability to fund her productions. She knew my folks wouldn’t put up a fuss if I was slighted—unlike, say, the O’Briens or some of the other local society leaders.”
Wade scowled. “Sounds like it was long past time for her to retire.”
“She did the best she could,” Bobbie said in defense of her colleague. “You know how difficult it can be to challenge the established order, Wade. You’ve had your share of criticism because you refuse to look the other way when some of the richer folks bend a few laws.”
“The laws aren’t any different for people with money than they are for people without,” Wade said flatly.
Emily looked speculatively at Jamie. “I hear you’re planning to do Grease in the spring. You know Joannie McQuade’s going to demand the role of Sandy.”
“None of my students will ‘demand’ a role—they’ll audition,” Jamie asserted. “If they’re good, they’ll get a part. If they show potential, I’ll work with them until they’re ready. If they show no glimmer of talent, I’ll let them be extras, or assign them other responsibilities. There are a lot of interesting jobs in theater besides acting—lighting, set design and construction, sound, publicity, costumes, stage management.”
“You’d make Joannie McQuade an extra?” Wide-eyed, Emily shook her head. “Her mother will be at the school to try to get you fired before you can say, ‘Cut!”’
Trevor noted that Jamie didn’t look notably intimidated. “I’ve spent seven years working in New York. I can handle Charlotte McQuade.”
Emily made a balancing gesture with her hands. “A city full of New Yorkers,” she said, lowering one hand. “Charlotte McQuade,” she continued, lowering the other. After considering it a moment, she shook her head wryly. “It’s a close call, which is actually scarier.”
“I’m sure Jamie can handle herself,” Trevor commented.
The quick look she shot him expressed her appreciation—and perhaps a touch of surprise?
“I’m going to kindergarten,” Sam announced to Jamie.
“In the fall, you mean?” she asked encouragingly. He nodded.
“Are you excited?”
“I’m sort of scared,” the boy admitted.
Trevor was a bit surprised. Sam didn’t often share his feelings, especially with people he didn’t know well. But he didn’t usually take to new people as quickly as he had to Jamie, either.
“Don’t be scared about school,” Jamie encouraged. “For the most part, school is fun. Why else would I want to go back as a teacher?”
“Will you be my teacher?”
Jamie smiled and smoothed Sam’s fair hair. “Not for a few years yet, Sammy. But whoever you get for a teacher, I’m sure you’ll have a great year.”
Trevor watched in resignation as his son fell a little deeper in love.

4
LATER THAT EVENING, the adults sat in the den, drinking coffee and talking while the children vied for attention. Sitting again on the couch beside Trevor, Jamie smiled at Abbie, then was surprised when the little girl reached out to her. Jamie obligingly took the toddler into her lap. Abbie immediately snatched for the heavy silver pendant Jamie wore.

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