Kathryn Springer - Family Treasures

“Why are you doing this?” Caitlin’s voice stopped him as he reached the door.

When Devon turned around, she hadn’t moved. He had no idea how to answer the question, so he asked one of his own. “Jenny didn’t really take second place in the contest, did she?”

The flicker of guilty surprise in Caitlin’s eyes gave her away.

Bingo.

He smiled. “That’s why.”

“That’s why.” Caitlin repeated Devon’s cryptic words as she fumbled with the key to her apartment. For some odd reason, her hands hadn’t stopped trembling since she’d closed up IMAGEine.

She blamed it on the drop in evening temperatures.

Mr. Darcy met her on the other side of the door, his ragged ears twitching a silent reprimand.

“Don’t blame me.” Caitlin shrugged off her coat and headed toward the kitchen. “Blame Devon Walsh. He’s the reason your dinner is late.”

The cat darted between her feet and cut in front of her, upsetting her balance and almost pitching her headfirst into the granite countertop on the breakfast bar. “We’ve talked about this before. If you kill me, there will be no one to feed you.”

Caitlin shook the contents of a gourmet can of cat food into a ceramic dish near the refrigerator and rubbed her knuckles against the sensitive spot under Mr. Darcy’s furry chin, a gesture which never failed to earn his forgiveness.

“At least one of us is happy,” she muttered, putting off her own dinner to seek solace in her favorite chair overlooking the Mississippi River. Her apartment building had been an abandoned warehouse before a developer saw its potential and converted it into a series of trendy loft apartments.

She stared down at the dark ribbon of water and tried to figure out what had happened in the past hour.

Caitlin hadn’t expected Devon to actually turn in the gift certificate for a free style analysis. The only reason she’d sent the silly thing in the first place was to make good on the first “prize” that came to mind after she’d made an executive decision to withdraw Jennifer’s entry.

A decision Dawn Gallagher was still lamenting over. Caitlin knew their second choice would work out just as well but Dawn didn’t think anyone else could compare to a “Mr. Makeover.”

Guilt tugged briefly at Caitlin’s conscience. The only explanation she’d given the Twin City Trends’ style editor was that Devon was too busy to be involved in the makeover contest. Maybe he hadn’t exactly said those words, but they had to be true. A single dad raising three kids…while writing the next great American novel.

What had she gotten herself into?

Devon didn’t really want her help. He’d swallowed his pride because of his children. And it was easy to see that the man was going to be a rebel. The “I hope you can be flexible with my schedule” comment was the first gauntlet he’d thrown down.

Caitlin picked up a tasseled pillow and buried her head in it.

“He’s not the only one with a schedule,” she complained. “I have a schedule, too. And it’s booked solid through the first of the year.”

“Cait?”

Caitlin dropped the pillow and jackknifed into a sitting position at the sound of a muffled voice behind her. “Don’t you ever knock?”

“Why should I?” Her sister Meghan grinned. “I have a key.”

“Number four on my list of mistakes,” Caitlin said under her breath.

“I didn’t think you made mistakes—what were the first three? I promise I won’t tell Evie.” Meghan flopped down on the couch and Caitlin caught a glimpse of knee-high beaded moccasins under Meghan’s long skirt.

She groaned. “Moccasins, Megs? You’re killing me here.”

“Aren’t they great?” Meghan hiked up the hem on her tiered khaki skirt to show them off. “Cade bought them for me.”

“I don’t believe it. What have you done to the poor man?”

“The same thing I’m trying to do to you.”

“Drive me crazy?”

“No, silly. Break you out of the first-born overachiever mold. Help you lighten up a little.” Meghan swung her legs over the side of the ivory leather sofa and adjusted the pillows behind her back.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Caitlin said dryly.

“Thanks.” Meghan chuckled when Caitlin rolled her eyes. “Where’s Mr. Darcy?”

“Sulking. Dinner was late.”

“Poor baby. Did you get held up by work or traffic?”

Caitlin hesitated as Devon’s face flashed in her mind. She’d only met him twice and yet somehow her memory was able to retrieve every one of his features with stunning clarity.

Meghan tilted her head, sending a mass of strawberry blonde curls tumbling over one shoulder. “Should I repeat the question?”

“Work.” As much as she hated to admit it, Devon Walsh had officially become work. What was she going to do about him? Or more important, what was she going to do with him….

“Wow.” Meghan’s voice infiltrated her thoughts.

“What?”

“You were daydreaming.”

Caitlin’s fingers curled into the pillow. “Don’t be silly.”

Meghan leaned forward, studying her with something that could only be termed as fascination. “And for a second there, you had The Look.”

“What look?”

“The Look. You know, the one a woman gets in her eyes when she’s thinking about a certain guy.”

“Please.” Caitlin vaulted out of the chair. “Have you eaten supper? Because I’ve got some leftover seafood fettuccine—”

“You. Are. Blushing.” Meghan jumped up and blocked her escape route.

“Megs—”

“Who is he? Have you told Evie—” Meghan pushed Caitlin down on the sofa and plunked down beside her. Bringing them nose to nose.

“No!” At times like this, Caitlin questioned her decision to live in the same city as her younger sibling. “Was there a specific reason you stopped over or—”

Meghan clapped her hands together, effectively drowning Caitlin out. “Oooh, that means I get to tell her.”

“There isn’t anything to tell,” Caitlin ground out. “He’s a new client. A client. That’s all. And the only reason I was—” she hated to admit it “—thinking about him was because he was the last appointment of the day.”

The last unscheduled appointment of the day. And if Caitlin would have known how it was going to turn out, she would have made sure Sabrina sent him on his merry way. Sans gift certificate!

“A client.” Meghan’s shoulders drooped. “Really?”

“Really.” Caitlin sounded so convincing, she almost believed it herself.

“Oh. Sorry, it’s just that we—” Meghan bit down on her lower lip to prevent the rest of the words from spilling out.

Not that it mattered. Caitlin could guess what she’d been about to say.

They didn’t want her to feel left out.

Both her sisters had found love within the past year and a half and their father, Patrick, teasingly took the credit for both successful matches. Even though Caitlin knew it had to be a total coincidence that Patrick’s hobby—finding lost family heirlooms—had inadvertently led to both her sisters meeting the men they’d fallen in love with.

Another reason to limit the number of visits to Cooper’s Landing! She didn’t want her father pulling her into any of his crazy schemes. Or playing matchmaker for the only single daughter left in the McBride family.

“It’s okay. Bask guilt-free in the glow of your own happiness,” Caitlin said. “You know I don’t have time for a relationship.”

“You won’t make time for a relationship,” Meghan countered. “And Mr. Darcy, as much as I love him, doesn’t count.”

“Ah, Megs—why did you say you stopped over?”