The Sassy One

9

“I’ve decided to run away,” Sam said after dinner. “Want to come?”

Francesca curled up against him on the family room sofa and closed her eyes. “Where would we go?”

“Somewhere hot. An uncharted island in the South Pacific. You’d have to spend the day naked.”

She smiled. “There are parts of me I don’t want sunburned.”

He shifted so his mouth pressed against her ear. “We’d be making love all the time, so they’d be covered.”

The low, sexy words made her stomach clench and her thighs relax. “What about food and water?”

“It would be there. We’d do take-out.”

“On an uncharted island? How would they find us.”

He wrapped both arms around her and drew her close. “Shh. You’re spoiling the fantasy. There would be plenty of food and water. A big bed, champagne. Ready to sign up?”

She thought about the feeble start she’d made on her outline and Sam’s child sulking upstairs. They were halfway through the first week, and things weren’t looking any brighter.

“Sure. When do we leave?”

“You’re my kind of woman.”

He kissed her, pressing his mouth against hers as he pulled her close. She felt surrounded by sensual heat. Need sparked to life, making her part her lips.

As he swept his tongue inside, he groaned low in his throat. The sound of masculine need made her tremble. Wanting grew, as it had the first time they’d been together. It enveloped her until it was all she could think about. Until rational thought wasn’t possible. She ached for him.

“Sam,” she breathed as she rubbed her palm against his chest.

He swore, then kissed along her jaw and down her neck. Her breasts swelled and her nipples tightened.

As she arched against him, he slipped a hand under her T-shirt and cupped her left breast. She gasped as his thumb brushed across the sensitized peak, then shuddered as he continued to caress her.

Despite her need to get lost in the moment, she was aware that they weren’t alone in the house.

“We can’t,” she whispered, even as she covered his hand with hers, urging him to keep touching her.

“I know. I’m just playing.”

If this was play, she thought as he nibbled her neck and made her skin break out in goose bumps, what would it be like if he got serious?

But she already knew. She’d made love with Sam, experiencing the sureness of his touch, the ease with which he pleasured her. Her insides tightened as she recalled how he’d filled her, thrusting deeply until she’d lost herself. She wanted that now-his body covering hers, touching and teasing.

Think about something else, she told herself as need turned frantic. Her breathing increased, as did her heart rate, and she couldn’t find the strength to push him away when he slipped his hand from her breast to the waistband of her shorts.

Any halfhearted protest she might have made died away when he unfastened the waistband and drew down the zipper.

“Just for a second,” she whispered, even as his fingers slid between curls and settled against swollen flesh.

He pressed his mouth to her ear. “You’re wet,” he whispered.

She sagged back against the sofa and closed her eyes. “I can’t help it. You’re touching me.”

“I like touching you.”

He rubbed against the one sensitive spot and she gasped. “What about Kelly?”

“We’ll hear her if she comes downstairs.” He bit her earlobe. “Just a couple of minutes. You don’t have to like it.”

“Yes, I do.”

He circled around, then slipped a finger inside of her. At the same time he pressed in with his thumb. The unbelievable combination made her gasp. Her hips pulsed slightly as her body surged and tensed.

She was close in a heartbeat. A few more strokes, a little rubbing, and she would lose herself in the pleasure.

Awareness of her surroundings made her hesitate. She put her hand on his wrist. “We have to stop.”

Sam looked at her, then nodded. “You’re right. If things get going too much, we won’t hear Kelly.” He withdrew his hand.

Half relieved, half disappointed, Francesca fastened her shorts. She felt aroused, edgy, and in serious need of some satisfaction.

“Did you know I have an original Picasso?” he said.

She blinked at the change in topic. “No.”

“It’s in my office. Come have a look.”

He stood and drew her to her feet, then led the way toward the front of the house. There was a small hallway just past the formal living room. The first door on the right led into a bookcase-lined study, complete with runway-sized desk and heavy drapes.

She barely had time to notice the small painting on the far wall when the door closed and Sam turned the lock.

“No condom,” he said, pulling her close. “We’ll have to be creative.”

His mouth settled on hers. The relief was nearly as sweet as the need was sharp. Under the circumstances-no birth control, limited time, and strange surroundings-she probably should have told him to forget it. But she couldn’t. Not when his hot, deep kisses made her rub herself against him. Her swollen center came in contact with his hard, thick erection and they both groaned.

“You first,” he said, pushing her back until she settled against the desk. He was already fumbling with her shorts.

She helped, then pushed them off, along with her bikini briefs. Then his tongue was in her mouth and his fingers were between her legs, and nothing mattered but the way he made her feel.

It was too good, she thought, barely able to stay standing. She clung to him as she sucked on his tongue and parted her thighs even more. Fingers plunged in and out of her. His thumb rubbed and circled and teased. She was seconds away from losing herself when he broke the kiss and crouched down.

“I want to taste you,” he told her.

She was hardly going to protest. With one quick push, she sat on the edge of the desk. Sam knelt on the floor and drew her swollen flesh apart. He leaned close, then placed an open-mouthed kiss on the very heart of her.

The orgasm came from nowhere. One second she’d been anticipating the intimate act and the next she was caught up in a whirlwind of pleasure and release. She bit back a scream as she clutched at his head. He licked and sucked, forcing one orgasm into two, then three. She shuddered and gasped, finally stilling.

When she was done, he straightened and smiled at her. Francesca felt more than a little embarrassed.

“I, ah, should have taken longer.”

He grinned. “You’re going to make me think I have super powers.”

“You do.”

She slid off the desk and reached for the front of his jeans. “Your turn.”

He covered her hands with his. “You don’t have to do that.”

Now it was her turn to grin. “I know.”

They exchanged places, with him leaning against the desk and her standing in front. She unfastened his belt, then the button. When the zipper was released, she pushed jeans and briefs down his thighs. His erection sprang free.

He was already hard. She pressed her mouth to his neck as she took him in her hand. He tasted sweet and salty, and he felt like barely controled power encased in baby-soft velvet. The first stroke made her wish they’d brought a condom with them. The second stroke made them both moan.

“I’m going to beat your record,” he whispered.

“Promise?” She rubbed her thumb against the tip of his penis.

He shuddered. “Oh, yeah.”

Smiling, she knelt on the thick carpeting and took him in her mouth. He clutched the edge of the desk and muttered something about control. She held in a chuckle and began to move.

Francesca wasn’t sure he beat her record, but he certainly matched it. In thirty seconds he was breathing hard, in forty-five he was swearing, and somewhere around a minute, he lost it completely.

“I like your enthusiasm,” she murmured as they straightened their clothing. “It’s inspiring.”

He dropped a kiss on her forehead. “So are you. But now I’m starved. Is there any pasta left?”

“Are you kidding? I’m half Italian. There were three of us for dinner, so I brought enough for, oh, twenty.”

Sam grinned, then crossed to the door. After unlocking it, he glanced into the hallway, then nodded.

Francesca could hear Kelly moving around upstairs as they made their way to the kitchen.

While she reheated ravioli and sauce, Sam poured them each a glass of wine.

“Did I thank you for bringing dinner?” he asked as he leaned against the counter.

“About four times.”

“It was really good.”

He’d already told her about his attempt to provide a “healthy” dinner the previous evening. She’d done her best not to laugh.

“The Grands know how to cook,” she said. “Grandma Tessa does all the traditional Italian dishes, while Grammy M could bake her way into heaven.”

She pulled steaming bowls out of the microwave and tried not to notice the delightfully squishy sensation that lingered after their quickie. She felt satiated, content, and just a little bit wicked.

“Do you cook?” he asked.

Francesca pulled out a chair at the kitchen table and sat. “No. I’ve taken tons of classes on every kind of cooking. I do fabulous garnishes, but I’m lousy at real food. Honestly, I don’t even like cooking.”

“So why do you take the classes?” he asked as he settled next to her and picked up a fork.

“Guilt,” she said cheerfully. “I’m not interested in the traditional marriage role, and in my family that’s about as blasphemous as not acknowledging the Pope. So I study cooking.”

“You can rebel enough not to remarry, but not enough to tell them you don’t like to cook?”

“I know it sounds crazy, but even being aware of what’s happening doesn’t take away the guilt. I’m Irish, Italian, and Catholic. Guilt is my birthright.”

Sam chewed a mouthful of ravioli. It had been pretty good at dinner, but after what they’d just done in his office, it was delicious. As was Francesca. Her mouth was swollen, her skin flushed. She looked content and satisfied, which pleased him.

“I’m not trying to make trouble here,” he said, “but shouldn’t your professional training make a difference?”

“Psychologist, heal thyself?” she asked, then laughed. “You’d think it would, but then you’d be wrong. Besides, without guilt, I’d have too much mental free time.”

“Good point.” He grinned. “I never did show you my Picasso.”

She looked at him, blushed slightly, then laughed. “Oh. Yes, well, we’ll have to do that another time.”

“Just say the word.”

Not that he wanted to make a habit of five-minute sex. Not with her. Their night together had been too extraordinary. But with Kelly in the house, everything was different.

“I can tell by your change in facial expression that you’ve shifted to another mental topic,” she said.

He nodded.

Francesca leaned toward him. “It’s only been a few days.”

“I know. We both have to adjust. It’s going to take time.” He pushed the bowl away. “I understand all that, but I’m ready to get on with fixing the problem.”

“Have you defined what’s wrong yet?”

Yeah, some kid he’d never known about had unexpectedly entered his life. Instead of being someone he could relate to-a boy, or quiet, or normal-Kelly was difficult, stubborn, and ill-mannered.

“We don’t exactly get along,” he said instead.

“That will come. First you have to get to know each other.”

“Not easy when she spends all her time pissed off at me.” He picked up his wine. “Was I wrong to cancel her credit card?”

“Of course not. I’m shocked her mother let her have one. The thing is you have one set of expectations and she has another. You’re going to have to find some middle ground. And maybe next time warn her before you cancel her card.”

“Good point. Too bad her idea of middle ground is for me to do everything she wants and stay out of her face.” He took a sip of wine, then set the glass on the table. “She’s going to be annoyed when she finds out I’ve hired a nanny.”

“You found someone?”

He nodded. “The service wasn’t thrilled to be providing car service and baby-sitting for a twelve-year-old, but for the right money, they’ll do it. She starts Monday.” He reached across the table and took her hand. “You’ve been great helping me out, but I can’t take up all your time.”

“I haven’t minded. If nothing else, I’m learning about ballet.” She hesitated. “I’ve been debating this for a while and I’d like to take Kelly to my folks’ place after class. My older sister is getting married, and we have a ‘girls only’ planning meeting scheduled.”

Sam squeezed her fingers and released them. “She’s going to be in the way. I’ll take the day off work and cart her around myself.”

“You don’t have to,” she told him. “I don’t mind taking Kelly to meet my family. I think they’ll overwhelm her with attention, and that won’t be such a bad thing.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Then why did you say you’d been debating it for a while?”

She wrinkled her nose. “My family. They’re going to read too much into the situation and start planning a double wedding.”

He could see why that would make her uncomfortable. “So don’t take her. I can play hooky for the afternoon.”

“It’s not that simple. I understand a lot of what Kelly’s feeling. Or I think I do. When I was growing up, there were a lot of times when I felt like an outsider. But the feeling didn’t last long because I had my family to adore me.”

He shifted uncomfortably. No way he adored Kelly. “It’s not that I dislike her,” he said.

“I know.” She touched his arm. “I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad. My point is I think my family could be good for her.”

He understood more than she was saying. Even though it meant setting herself up for unwelcome matchmaking, Francesca was willing to take Kelly home because it was the right thing for the girl.

“You’re a hell of a woman.”

She smiled. “Not really, but I’m glad you think so.”

“Thank you. For everything.”

“Don’t thank me yet. I have no idea what my family might say to Kelly, so I’m warning you in advance.”

“I have no idea what Kelly is going to say to them, so we’re even.”

“Good. Kelly is going to be cheek-pinched and hugged and fed until she’s one big ball of good feelings.”

“That will be a change.”

Francesca’s smile faded. “Sam, have you thought anymore about what I said? About Kelly acting out because she doesn’t feel secure?”

“I’ve thought about it. You’re probably right, but that doesn’t make it any easier to deal with her.”

“She needs to be loved.”

“She’s not very lovable.”

“That doesn’t change the need.”

He knew she was right. Funny, he would have thought loving his own child would be immediate and overwhelming. As it was, he had trouble liking Kelly.

“So are you going to charge me billable hours?” he asked.

She grinned, leaned forward, and lowered her voice. “I was thinking more of taking it out in trade,” she whispered.

Francesca whispered something Kelly couldn’t hear, but it didn’t matter. She was so mad, she was shaking. She hated her father. Hated him with all her heart.

The smell of food had lured her from her room a few minutes ago. She’d come downstairs and had heard Francesca and Sam in the kitchen. She’d just decided she would maybe join them when she’d heard Sam say she wasn’t very lovable.

Spinning on the ball of her foot, she ran to the stairs and raced back to her room.

He was a horrible man. She should report him to the police or something for child abuse, and then they would lock him up and he’d have to spend the rest of his life in prison. That’s what he deserved.

Kelly threw herself on her bed and pulled her Pooh bear close.

“Francesca’s not so bad,” she whispered into the scuffed fur. “But he’s the worst.”

She hated him and she would never, ever forgive him. No matter what.

Halfway to the hacienda the next day, Francesca still hadn’t come up with an explanation for Kelly’s presence. It was hardly as if the Grands wouldn’t notice.

She glanced at Kelly, who had changed into shorts and a shirt after her morning ballet class. The preteen stared out the window without saying much. Francesca tried to figure out the best way to admit she had a problem. A big problem.

She cleared her throat. “Did I mention that my father’s side of the family is Italian?” she asked.

Kelly turned to look at her. Not a flicker of interest showed on her face. “No.”

“They are. My mother’s family is Irish. Basically we’re talking about grade-A European meddlers.”

Kelly continued to watch her without speaking.

“Their idea of perfection is to see all four of their daughters happily married with five or six kids, which, to date, hasn’t happened. But there is a ton of family pressure.”

She waited to see if Kelly would say anything. Sam’s daughter simply watched her.

“I’m going to tell them that your dad and I are friends,” she continued. “The thing is, they’re not going to believe me. So brace yourself for a lot of very unsubtle hints about weddings, marriage, engagements, not to mention questions about how many brothers and sisters you want. Okay?”

“Okay.” Kelly shrugged and turned her attention back to the view out the window. “I understand. Parents can totally overreact.”

Francesca had a feeling that comment was a slam on Sam, but she ignored it. “The other thing I need to warn you about is that my grandmothers love everyone. They’re going to make a big fuss over you, which I know you’ll think is totally uncool. So you need to be prepared.”

Kelly’s expression turned wary. “What do you mean, a big fuss?”

“Oh, they’ll hug you and tell you you’re pretty and try to get you to eat a lot of cookies and stuff. They’re grandmothers.” She smiled. “The usual boring stuff.”

The wariness faded. “I can probably handle it.”

“I’m sure you can. I just wanted to let you know it might be a real drag.”

Francesca didn’t want to back Kelly into a corner. If she was enthused about her family, then Kelly would have to take the opposite side and instantly hate them. The girl had a defense ready to go in every situation.

Instead, she had decided to make it all sound like an imposition. Kelly’s natural reaction to be stubborn meant she might actually want to like the Grands. Francesca had a feeling that an afternoon at the Marcelli hacienda just might shrink the massive chip on Kelly’s shoulder.

She saw the arched entrance to the Marcelli property. As she turned under the arch and onto the long paved road, Kelly swung around and gaped at her.

“You’re Marcelli Wines?”

“Sort of. My grandfather owns the winery, not me, but this is where I grew up.”

“Drinking wine?”

Francesca laughed. “Sometimes.”

“Wow!”

Kelly turned in her seat, glancing first to the left, then to the right. Grapevines stretched out for acres. It was the first excitement she’d shown since arriving nearly a week before. Francesca was thrilled.

“So these will be wine soon?” Kelly asked.

“Sure. I think so.” Francesca glanced out her side window. “I’m not the expert. If you have any specific questions, you should talk to my sister Brenna. She’s the one who knows everything.”

Kelly asked a few more questions, then fell silent when they rounded the corner and she saw the three-story Spanish-style hacienda. The pale yellow structure was topped with a tiled roof. Wrought-iron balconies decorated the front windows, and a porch circled the entire structure. Coordinating outbuildings lay in the distance.

Francesca pulled to the side by the multicar garage her parents had built when their daughters had started driving their own cars.

Kelly turned to her. “Your family is rich. Why don’t you have money?”

Francesca laughed. “My grandfather is rich. He’s the one who owns the winery.”

“But when he dies, doesn’t this all go to the family?”

“That’s a complicated question.”

She stepped out of the car and slammed her door shut. Kelly followed suit. As they approached the rear door of the house, Francesca put a hand on Kelly’s shoulder.

“Brace yourself.”

Kelly stalled in mid-step. Francesca saw the hesitation in her eyes, but before she could head back to the relative safety of the truck, the backdoor opened and the Grands appeared.

“Francesca,” Grandma Tessa called. “We thought maybe you were too busy to come to plan your own sister’s wedding.”

Grammy M smiled as she hurried behind her taller in-law. “Don’t be scoldin’ her, Tessa. She’s here. And with a wee one.”

Francesca wrapped her arm around Sam’s daughter. “This is Kelly, the daughter of a friend. She’s joining us for the afternoon. Kelly, these are my grandmothers. Grandma Tessa is married to Grandpa Lorenzo.” She leaned close and lowered her voice. “They’re the Italian side of the family.”

Kelly nodded. “Nice to meet you, ma’am.”

Ma’am? Francesca nearly fainted. Was Kelly being polite?

“And this is Grandma Mary-Margaret. When we were little, her name was a mouthful, so we call her Grammy M.”

“Hi,” Kelly said.

The Grands exchanged a look.

“A friend?” Grammy M asked. “Would this friend be a man?”

Francesca glanced at Kelly. “Here goes.”

Kelly actually smiled. “Francesca dates my dad.”

“You don’t say,” Grammy M murmured, her pale eyebrows rising toward her hairline. “Well, don’t just stand there, Kelly. Come give us a hug.”

The Grands descended. Francesca stepped out of the way as Kelly was hugged, kissed, and cheek-pinched. The latter caused her to wince in pain and rub the affected patch of skin. But her look of “rescue me” quickly changed to wonder when they were all hustled inside and she caught a glimpse of the food spread set out for the afternoon meeting.

Francesca was used to the array of cookies, cannolis, scones, cakes, and pastries that were her grandmothers’ hobbies, but she doubted Kelly had seen anything like it outside of a bakery.

The girl had just been seated at the table with a plate and two hovering grandmothers when Brenna strolled in. She glanced from Kelly to Francesca.

“Is this who I think it is?” she asked as she leaned on the counter.

“Sam’s daughter.”

Brenna took off her baseball cap and brushed her short hair off her forehead. “Sam of the hot, naked sex?” she asked, her voice low enough to keep Kelly and the Grands from hearing.

Francesca refused to think about what had happened the previous night. Seeing her blush would only encourage Brenna. “I don’t actually know any other men with children.”

Brenna reached for one of the cookies and took a bite. “How long are you on baby-sitting detail?”

“Just today. He’s hired someone from a service.”

Brenna glanced at the Grands, then lowered her voice. “And the naked part?”

“Oh, that’s still going great.”

Brenna grinned. “Good for you!”

The backdoor opened and Katie breezed in. There were hugs all around, then Francesca introduced Kelly to Brenna and Katie. More hugging followed.

Katie gave Francesca a speculative glance as she looked at Kelly. Obviously there were going to be plenty of questions later.

Francesca watched Kelly closely to see if this was all too much for her, but the preteen seemed to be soaking up the attention.

“Am I the last one to arrive?” Francesca’s mother asked as she hurried in from the hallway. “Your father and I have that sales trip in two days, and I’m still trying to get ready.”

She kissed each of her daughters, then smiled at Kelly. “Hello. I’m responsible for these girls being here. But please don’t hold it against me.”

Kelly carefully wiped her hands on a napkin and stood. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Marcelli.”

Once again, the shock of the girl’s excellent manners nearly made Francesca fall into a coma.

Francesca’s mother smiled. “Call me Colleen.” She turned back to everyone else. “Are we ready?”

There was a chorus of agreements. The six of them headed for the dining room. Francesca pulled Kelly aside.

“We’re going to be talking about Katie’s wedding. Planning it and discussing the dress she wants. You’re welcome to join us, but if you think you’ll be bored you can watch TV in the family room.”

Kelly ducked her head. “I’d like to stay with everyone.”

“Absolutely. But if you change your mind, it’s okay.”

Kelly nodded and followed her into the dining room.

In a matter of minutes they were working their way through wedding details like dates and how many for the guest list. Katie sat at one end of the table, with her mother next to her. Francesca sat next to her with Kelly beside her. The Grands and Brenna were across the table. Pads of paper had been distributed along with pens, cups of coffee, milk for Kelly, and plates of the treats from the kitchen.

Her mother pulled off her glasses. “If we’re talking about early October, we have the rain issue.”

Katie shrugged. “I’m willing to take my chances. I really want to be married here by the house. We can have tents in reserve. I know a terrific place that rents them. They’ll give me a good deal.”

Brenna leaned toward Kelly. “My sister runs a company called Organization Central. She plans parties and puts people’s lives in order. Speaking as someone who can barely find matching socks some mornings, I find that very frightening.”

Kelly grinned.

Katie turned to her sister. “Are you complaining already?”

“Yes. What if harvest isn’t over? Have you considered that, Oh Sister-bride?”

Katie bit her lower lip. “I hadn’t thought of that. I guess if it isn’t over, you’ll have to shower fast, come to the house for the wedding, then head back out to the fields to be with your precious grapes.”

“Maybe I’ll even stay for the reception before going back to work,” Brenna said with a grin.

Everyone laughed.

Katie reached into her briefcase and pulled out a folder neatly labeled with the words wedding gown.

“About the dress,” she said.

Francesca laid her head on the table and groaned. Her mother patted her arm.

“I know sewing isn’t really your thing, dear, but it’s a family tradition.”

Francesca opened one eye and glanced at Kelly. “We make the wedding dress. No store-bought confections for our family. It’s so much work, and I’m not very good at it. I bleed on the satin. You’d think that would be enough to get me out of helping, but it isn’t. Grammy M and Katie always manage to get the stain out. How sick is that?”

Kelly giggled.

“So here are my choices,” Katie said, passing around several pictures of wedding dresses.

Francesca straightened and glanced over her mother’s shoulder. Her heart sank. The first dress was a sheath style literally covered with beaded lace. The second dress would be even more work. Beading swirled through the long sleeves and full skirt, then wove an intricate pattern on the train.

Francesca passed the picture to Brenna, who actually blanched. Even Grammy M looked a little concerned.

“I’m thinkin’ they’re lovely gowns, Katie darlin’, but we’re only givin’ ourselves a few months to get everything ready. Even if we beaded day and night, I’m not sure we could finish this one in time. Will you be wantin’ to change the weddin’ date?”

Katie gazed at them all with a wide-eyed, innocent expression. Brenna groaned, then tossed a cookie at her sister.

“I’m thinking the B word, Katie, and it’s not bead,” Brenna said as she took back the picture of the heavily beaded dress and ripped it in half.

Katie laughed. “You should have seen the looks on your faces.”

Relief tasted sweet. Francesca wrinkled her nose. “Aren’t you the humorous one. Where’s the real dress?”

Katie pulled out a picture of a sleeveless wedding gown with a scooped neck. The dress was fitted to the waist before flaring out into a full skirt. Seed pearls were scattered across the bodice and skirt. There wasn’t a speck of lace in sight.

“We could practically do this in a weekend,” Francesca said in surprise.

“I know.” Katie looked pleased. “I love the dress and you guys are going to owe me for picking something simple. A win-win.”

Kelly took the picture and studied the gown. The Grands got up from their seats and crowded around her.

“What do you think?” Katie asked, coming over and pointing at the picture.

The twelve-year-old sighed. “The dress is beautiful.” She glanced up. “Do you think I could help with the beading?”

“Sure. There’s plenty of work for everyone.” Katie lowered her voice. “Maybe you could help Francesca. She’s really awful at sewing.”

“I heard that,” Francesca said sternly.

Kelly giggled.

Katie touched her chest. “What? I didn’t say anything.”

“Uh-huh.”

The Grands disappeared into the kitchen only to reappear with big bowls of salad.

“Because all the sweets weren’t enough,” Brenna muttered. “I’ve got to get out of here before I end up looking like a sumo wrestler.”

Francesca followed her out of the dining room. At the backdoor Brenna pulled on a baseball cap.

“The kid seems okay. What happened to Teen-zilla?”

“I don’t know. She was her usual surly self on the drive over. I guess the Grands are working their magic. If this keeps up, Sam is going to be thrilled.”

“And how exactly will he show his appreciation?”

Francesca grinned. “I’m not going to tell you.”

“That’s okay. I can imagine, which is really depressing. Just don’t go falling for this guy. Remember-Katie’s relationship with Zach aside-marriage sucks.”

“I know. I’m not about to go there a second time. I don’t love Sam, I’m just using him for sex.”

Brenna laughed. “You make me so proud.”

“Their house is huge. It’s really pretty and there are vineyards all around. Brenna is the sister who knows the most about wine. Katie runs some company that organizes parties, and Mia-I didn’t meet her-she’s in Washington, D.C., studying languages and stuff. The Grands were great. There was so much food. It was like a buffet or something, but it was just their house. And then we talked about Katie’s wedding, and the whole family makes the dress. Well, just the women. But Katie said I could help.”

Kelly paused and sucked in a breath. “With the sewing and stuff. And I’m going to. Not because it’s like fun or anything, but to be polite.”

Sam actually rubbed his eyes. He checked the clock over the stove and saw the second hand moving in the normal direction.

So if he hadn’t fallen into an alternative universe, what the hell was going on?

He didn’t recognize the girl sitting across from him at the dinner table. She looked like his daughter, but she didn’t sound like her. Plus, this kid was smiling. Until this second he hadn’t known Kelly had teeth.

“I’m glad you had a good time,” he said cautiously.

Francesca gave him an “I told you so” smile. “The Grands loved Kelly. I’m afraid she might have a bruise from all the cheek-pinching, though.”

Kelly rubbed her cheek. “Grandma Tessa pinches really hard, but she’s still nice.”

“I agree,” Sam said as he cut into the lasagna. “They provided us with dinner.”

“They would have given you enough for a week if I’d let them,” Francesca told him. “When I mentioned you didn’t have anyone to do your cooking, I thought maybe Grandma Tessa was going to move in.”

“Grammy M made these scones,” Kelly said. “They were really good. And there were cookies. We brought a pie back for dessert.”

Sam shook his head. Francesca could crow all she wanted, and he wouldn’t complain. She’d been a hundred percent right. Kelly had been transformed by grandmotherly affection and a big family.

He smiled at his daughter. “Several boxes were delivered to the office today,” he said. “I’m guessing it’s your things. I already put them in your room.”

Kelly’s eyes widened. She bounced to her feet, then actually hesitated. “May I be excused?”

Sam almost fell out of his chair. “Ah, sure,” he said.

She ran out of the room.

He turned to Francesca. “Was she just polite?”

Francesca grinned. “I know. It’s incredible. As it turns out, she’s been hiding good manners from us. You should have heard her with the Grands. She even said ma’am.”

“I’m stunned.”

“I’m thrilled. I think this is a big breakthrough, Sam. Kelly had a good time, but more important, she relaxed. Once she feels safe and secure, you’re going to see a whole new child.”

“That would be terrific. So how did it go with your family?”

She patted her mouth with her napkin. “As expected. They’ve picked out china for us, but not the flatware.”

“You okay with that? You didn’t have to take her. Not that I’m not grateful for the transformation.”

She sighed. “I tell myself it’s for a good cause. And it is. But there were lots of questions and speculations.”

“I’m sorry about that.”

“It’s not your fault.” She smiled. “I only have my gene pool to blame.”

“But I do owe you. Kelly is a different kid, and I’ll pay a lot to keep her that way.” He chuckled. “Name your price.”

He expected her to tease him or be suggestive. Instead her expression turned apologetic. “It’s nothing so simple as money. My family has a big Fourth of July party every summer. My mom invited you and Kelly to attend. Kelly has already accepted on your behalf.”

Sam didn’t mind. “A party sounds fun, as long as I can bring my grandfather along. With Elena out of town, he’d be all alone.”

“No problem. It’s just two hundred of our closest friends.” She swallowed. “The thing is my family now thinks you and I are more than friends, and there’s going to be fairly serious matchmaking. You need to be prepared.”

He smiled. “Are they going to talk about how wonderful you are?”

“No, more likely they’ll want to see your last two tax returns, check out your teeth, and get you to commit to a wedding date.”

“The hard sell, huh?”

“They will redefine the term.”

“I can handle it.”

She shook her head. “You say that now, but you haven’t faced them yet.”

“I can handle anything.”

A sudden explosion of sound made the house shake. Sam winced and glanced up at the ceiling. The steady beat of a drum vibrated through his chest.

“I guess she has a CD collection,” Francesca said helpfully.

“And a powerful set of speakers.”