Who loved children. Who’d rip his heart out and fry it for breakfast if he did one single thing to hurt the children she guarded so fiercely.
Not his kind of woman.
It was…unfortunate that he had the hots for her. He gave a soft grunt. No, it was worse than that. She drew him in an unfamiliar way. From first sight on. Now that he knew her a little better, it was even worse. The way she’d said, I’m sorry. Sitting here alone but for a few snores on the other side of the attic, he could hear her voice, soft but tangible as a touch. People didn’t always mean it when they said that, but she had. She’d felt something genuine for him.
And that scared the crap out of stone-cold Conall MacLachlan. He was trapped, living in a house with a gorgeous woman who cared like no one else he’d ever met, a woman he had wanted the moment he saw her.
People were rarely what they seemed, though; he knew that. Lia Woods wouldn’t be. She had to be a fake. Maybe decent to the kids, but doing it because she saw fostering as an easy way to pay the bills. He’d catch her saying something cutting to one of them when she thought no one else was listening, and he would be cured of this uneasy fear that he’d found… What? The perfect woman?
Not for him. His perfect woman enjoyed hot sex when he happened to be in town and didn’t ask when she’d see him again.
Forget Lia. Think about the fun in store for him: a family reunion . All three MacLachlan boys, two accompanied by wives and children.
Now, there was a nightmare.
CHAPTER FIVE
“SO, LITTLE ONES,” Lia said. The day was so nice she’d brought Julia and Arturo outside, where they sat on the lawn at the edge of dappled shade. After wondering stares, Julia had become fascinated by the grass and now had her plump fingers knotted in it. “Do you miss your mama? I think you’ll see her soon. Arturo, don’t pull your sister’s hair.”
“You’re speaking Spanish to them.” Conall sounded thoughtful.
Lia jumped and swiveled on her butt to glare at him. “Don’t sneak up on us.”
“I’m a special agent,” he said in apparent amusement. “That’s what we do. Didn’t you know that?”
“You’d better tell Jeff. I can always hear him coming.”
“Heavy feet.” He shook his head in disapproval. “I’d better report him.”
She puffed out a breath. Her heartbeat was settling into something approaching a normal rhythm. Not quite normal; it wouldn’t while he was standing there, she was afraid, looking unbelievably sexy and relaxed, that smile lingering around his mouth even as he watched her. His jeans were well-worn, cupping his— No, she would not notice that part of his body. A faded T-shirt clung to powerful muscles. His feet were bare. Was he unarmed? She’d caught glimpses a couple of times of a shoulder holster beneath a loose denim or twill shirt. But surely he didn’t always carry a gun.
“Aren’t you supposed to be spying?” she asked. “Or sleeping?”
“I just woke up. Made myself a sandwich and saw you out here.”
“Oh.” Brilliant. “Did you say hi to Walker and Brendan?”
“I suggested they come out, too.”
Fat chance of that. She nodded.
“You’re fluent,” he observed.
“You mean in Spanish?”
“Yes.”
Lia shrugged. “You can’t tell I’m Hispanic? My mother’s Mexican. She came up here illegally, worked as a maid until she met my father who married her.” She winced inwardly at her tone of defiance. She should have told the story casually. She’d meant to. Lia didn’t kid herself that Conall hadn’t had her investigated, if that Agent Phillips hadn’t already done it. She needed to appear open. Nothing wrong here, nope.
“I thought you might be,” he said slowly. “I I heard you singing a lullaby in Spanish last night.” He began to sing softly in a deep, lazy baritone. “Buenos dias, buenos dias, como estan? Como estan? Estamos muy contentos, estamos muy contentos, din don dan, din don dan.”
Julia and Arturo gazed at him, rapt. Goosebumps had risen on Lia’s arms.
“Very nice,” she said. “You speak Spanish?” Dumb thing to say; his accent was as authentic as hers.