The Family Plan (The McClouds of Mississippi 1)

His arms went around her, pulling her closer. She rested her hands on his chest so she could push him away—in just a minute.

Hi tilted his head and deepened the kiss. Her fingers curled into his shirt, and she wasn’t pushing him away. Didn’t want to.

She parted her lips and kissed him back—and it had nothing to do with sympathy or wanting to soothe his pain or anything else but pure desire. She’d been wanting to kiss him again ever since the last time, damn it. And it was even better than she remembered.

Nathan was the one who finally raised his head.

For just a moment she would have sworn he was at a loss for words. Characteristically, he recovered almost immediately. “Have dinner with me tonight.”

Trying to pull her resolve together, she shook her head. “Isabelle—”

“Can stay with a sitter for a few hours. Mrs. T. has volunteered several times.”

Still shaking her head, she moved a couple of steps away from him, laying a hand on her desk as if to draw strength from its solid surface. “No. We have to stop this. Now.”

Nathan made a sound that closely resembled a growl. “I really should add you to that list of stubborn women. I’d say you run neck-and-neck with my mother and my sister.”

“I haven’t changed my mind about us,” she said, knowing she sounded as obstinate as he accused her of being. “I still think it would be a mistake for us to confuse friendship and natural attraction for something more.”

“I’m not at all confused,” he assured her easily. “I simply want a chance to spend some time with you. Alone.”

“Definitely not a good idea. It seems like every time we’re alone together lately, well…” She felt her cheeks warm before she finished lamely, “Things get out of hand.”

Nathan laughed. While she couldn’t help being relieved that he was smiling again, she didn’t like feeling that it was at her expense. “I rather like it when things get out of hand,” he said.

The old Nathan was definitely back—at least for now. Maybe she should be pleased with herself for finding a way to cheer him up, even if unintentionally. Instead, she tried to speak firmly and with unmistakable finality. “I am not getting involved with you, Nathan.”

He reached out to touch a fingertip to her lower lip, which was still warm and moist from kissing him. “Caitlin. You already are.”

Turning away from him so quickly she almost stumbled, she spoke more gruffly this time. “Go check on your sister. She really shouldn’t be left alone this long.”

“This issue between us is far from settled.”

She only sighed in response to his warning. “Just go away, Nathan. I have work to do.”

She was relieved when he turned and left the office, leaving her to settled into her desk chair and bury her face in her hands. She was not unaware that he had left her in the same despairing position he’d found her in earlier.

Sunday would have been Stuart McCloud’s sixtieth birthday. Nathan was painfully aware of the significance of the date from the time he woke that morning.

He couldn’t help feeling a bit nostalgic as he dragged himself into the laundry room to wash a load of Isabelle’s play clothes, then moved into the kitchen to start breakfast. Birthdays had always been a big deal in the McCloud household, with special breakfasts, parties and elaborate gifts. Stuart was the one who had insisted each birthday be celebrated. Simply surviving another year was an accomplishment in itself, he had said many times.

Stuart had fallen six months short of surviving his own sixtieth year.

Nathan gazed pensively out the window over the sink. It was a dark, gray morning. Looked as though it might start raining any minute. Isabelle was still sleeping. He had let her stay up a bit later than usual watching videos last night since he’d known she could sleep in today.

Though he hadn’t been a faithful churchgoer for the past several years, he supposed he should start taking Isabelle to Sunday school. Pro

blem was, the only church he had ever attended was the one in which his mother was an extremely active member. Maybe he’d better look into a few others. He wouldn’t want to ruin his mother’s longtime pleasure in her church.

The smell of scorching batter brought his attention back to what he was supposed to be doing. He flipped the pancakes quickly, frowning at the charred edges. Okay, so he would eat these.

He remembered lazy weekend mornings when he had been the one to sleep in. He would then read the paper while sipping coffee and munching cold pizza or whatever else he might find in the fridge. Maybe head out midafternoon with his golf clubs or a fishing rod, a cooler of beer and whatever buddy had been available at a moment’s notice. On other Sundays he’d had lunch with his mother, sometimes joined by his brother and sister.

If he had wanted to stay out until midnight on weekends—or all night—he’d been free to do so. If he’d been in the mood for a woman’s company, all he’d had to do was pick up the phone.

How his life had changed.

Because he was still in that strangely melancholy mood, and feeling just a little lonely, he covered the plate of pancakes to keep them warm and reached for the telephone.