While Leigh settled into the guestroom, Kurt opened a bottle of red wine to let it breathe. Then he called Marion.
Her sister had the constitution of a tank. Heart problems didn't ring true. Maybe this move into the retirement residence had been harder to accept than he thought. But Marion had faced too many angry and confused foster kids to be frightened by downsizing her home. He listened to her soft-voiced explanation of family duty and hung up, no more convinced than when he’d called.
Footsteps made him turn to watch Leigh's expression as she approached through the great room. What he read in her eyes pleased him. As did his home. He'd worked hard on the design and it showed.
Log walls, gleaming wood floors and high ceilings made for rustic luxury. French doors flanked the fieldstone fireplace and led to a lakeside deck that appeared to extend the width of the house.
"Your home's lovely, Kurt," she said as she took the wine he offered. She'd let her hair down into waves that tipped at her clavicle. He wanted to trace those fine bones out to her smooth shoulders. Trace her skin lightly, lightly, lightly until she shivered with need.
"Thanks," he said, and pulled back from the errant thought. "I never seem to finish the place though." He grinned and nodded toward a walk-in pantry. The scent of fresh cut pine filled the air. Shelves he had yet to install leaned against the inside wall.
She took in the granite counters, the breakfast bar, the view over the lakeside deck. "I'd love a kitchen like this."
"Feel free to cook whatever you'd like. I'll eat your cooking anytime." He’d eat her anytime.
"I may take you up on your offer. I don't cook much. Meals for one don't hold a lot of appeal."
"You're single? Hard to believe." Down, boy.
"Why? There’s no evidence of a woman living here. If you're single, why shouldn't I be?"
"I've been busy building a business,” he said, pleased she'd paid attention to his living arrangement. “Until now relationships have taken a back seat."
"Now?"
"Now, I'm ready to take care of other ambitions." He held the door to the deck open for her and motioned her outside to take in the view. “Marion’s told me for years it’s time to settle down, and I’m ready to give her that wish.”
She stepped by him to the deck while he leaned in for a whiff of her shampoo. "When I lived here I never got to the private side of the lake,” she murmured. “Only the public beaches." Her scent went to his head. Better than wine. Much better. "This is spectacular." Her eyes showed delight in his success. “Why have you waited so long to settle down?”
“My old man was decent enough, but he could never get himself off the ground. Never got life right. I swore I’d be different if I had a family. I wanted to be ready. Prepared.”
“Not broke.” A statement, not a question. “I swore I wouldn’t get pregnant at fourteen.”
“Which may have happened, given the way you looked much older.”
Her smile went thoughtful. “But I had you running interference.”
"Whether you wanted it or not."
She slipped her hand to his cheek, her warmth a balm. He tilted into it. “Thank you, Kurt. You were my champion, my guardian.”
His hand burned with the need to touch. To take. So he clasped the deck rail and pretended to see the lake. He waved at his neighbors, out for their daily paddle. The red canoe skimmed over the water, graceful and silent.
"Sunset is my favorite time of day," she said with a sigh. "I don't see it often enough. Everything's pretty again." She tapped her temple. "My mind races through the day." She settled next to him at the rail, her shoulder grazing his.
"I like the long shadows, the deepening quiet as the birds settle and the lake turns pink and gold."
"Renewal, rest and reflection." She turned toward him, her eyes scanning his face, counting the years since they'd last seen each other. "You've changed some, but I still see you, Kurt McCord. Like no other man, I see you."
He had a sick feeling that maybe she always had. "When we were kids– "
"I'm sorry I was such a pest." She laughed. A light tinkling sound he'd looked for in every other woman he'd known.
"You weren't. I was a jerk."
She eyed him. "Only sometimes." Her grin set his mind at ease.
She still had no idea how sick he'd been. Still was. A brother wanting his sister. Correction. Foster sister.
Not that it made any difference. Marion would be appalled. And Leigh would look at him like a fly speck.
Maybe that would set him free. He'd stop comparing women to Leigh. He could move on and work on those new ambitions. A wife. Family of his own.
Just as soon as he put this Leigh thing aside.
And then she looked at him; really looked and he looked back.
Damn, she was hot.
She nodded at the neighbors as they glided by. "They're still together? They were a couple back in high school."
He nodded. "Sometimes first loves are the only loves."
She took a sip of wine too fast. She coughed and he patted her back. "Okay?"
"Fine. Thanks." After a moment of quiet reflection, she spoke again. She leaned over the rail to look around the lake. "That time I walked up to your car and you had some girl with you . . . ." Her voice trailed away into an unspoken question.
"Diane Brown. I remember she was no girl." Older by at least eight years and already divorced, Diane held his interest for all of three weeks. Long enough to learn what he'd needed. "What about it?" But he knew what she'd seen, what he'd done.
"You saw me coming for the car, holding my report card."
He'd been such a prick. "I'm sorry about that."
She hadn't heard him, was trapped in the past. "You grabbed her and kissed her the way I wanted you to kiss me."
It was his turn to choke. If he thought he'd waited on pins and needles for Leigh to arrive, it was nothing compared to the absolute stillness of his body, his life, his world as her words sunk in. After a shocked moment he turned his face toward her.
"Don't look so shocked," she said. "I had a huge crush on you." She blinked and seemed to pull out of wherever her memories had taken her. "You must have known."
The wind had been punched out of him and he dragged in a breath to replace it. "You were my little brat sister. Not possible." And he was four years older and had a lifetime worth of experience.
"You were never my brother, Kurt. No matter what the foster care system said. No matter how much Marion wanted us to call her Mom." She swallowed. Hard. Then slanted him a glance that spoke volumes. "You're not my brother, Kurt. You never were." She pressed her shoulder against his and tipped her wineglass toward him.
"Diane Brown," was all he could think to say. He'd seen Leigh running toward the car, eyes wide and happy, face aglow with pride. And he'd seen her falter when she'd realized he wasn't alone.
"You looked me right in the eyes. Then you pulled her into your arms and kissed her in a way– "
"In a way you were too young to see." He'd done it for her own good. He was older, a full on raging-hormone filled teenager with a car. Many times he could have picked her up on the walk home from school. He could have taken her anywhere and she'd have gone with him. The temptation had been powerful, but he'd been stronger. "It was safer to see you as a younger sister." He clinked their glasses and took a sip without looking at her.
"Safer? For whom?"
"Me," he murmured. "Safer for me. I wanted you, too, but you were a kid, a child. I felt sickened by my own thoughts."
"I'm not a child any longer, Kurt. And I'm here."
He looked at the way his wine rippled in his glass, a reaction to his trembling hand. "Are you sure?"
"I've been sure since I was twelve."