His Unexpected Family. Grace GreenЧитать онлайн книгу.
“Megan doesn’t remember her father.” About the Author Title Page Dedication CHAPTER ONE CHAPTER TWO CHAPTER THREE CHAPTER FOUR CHAPTER FIVE CHAPTER SIX CHAPTER SEVEN CHAPTER EIGHT CHAPTER NINE CHAPTER TEN CHAPTER ELEVEN EPILOGUE Copyright
“Megan doesn’t remember her father.”
“What kind of man was he, Kendra?” Brodie quirked a questioning eyebrow.
She rose to her feet. “You’re out of line, Brodie.”
“What’s the big secret, Kendra? Why won’t you talk about him? What are you hiding? Tell me something about your husband...or I’ll start to believe you never had one!”
Her face turned whiter than a snowdrop petal. And her eyes filled with dismay.
“Dear God.” Shock had him reeling. It had all been a lie—she’d been living a lie! But why?
Grace Green was born in Scotland and is a former teacher. In 1967 she and her marine-engineer husband, John, emigrated to Canada, where they raised their four children. Empty-nesters now, they are happily settled in west Vancouver in a house overlooking the ocean. Grace enjoys walking the sea wall, gardening, getting together with other writers...and watching her characters come to life, because she knows that, once they do, they will take over and write her stories for her.
His Unexpected Family
Grace Green
FOR MY NIECE CAROLYN
CHAPTER ONE
“MOM, I want to go in by myself.” Megan Westmore’s dark eyes sparked with frustration. “I’ll be eight next month, for heaven’s sake—I’m not a baby!”
“But Lakeview Elementary’s a new school for you and you’re four days late starting the term—”
“Mom. I can handle it.” Megan pushed open the door of the white Honda and scrambled out. “We talked with my homeroom teacher Friday. I know where to go. OK?”
Kendra Westmore looked at her daughter and marvelled, as she so often did, that she could actually be the mother of this child. Oh, they looked alike—they both had wheat-blonde hair and nut-brown eyes; fine bones and a petite build—but their personalities were poles apart. Megan was self-confident and fearless, while she, Kendra, was—
“’Bye, Mom.” Megan hitched her backpack over her skinny shoulders. “See you at three-thirty.” She slammed the car door and took off into the playground.
Without once looking back.
Kendra sighed. She knew she was overprotective of her daughter but she couldn’t seem to break herself of the habit. Megan was all she had in the world. She didn’t know what she’d do if anything ever happened to her—
The clangor of the school bell made her jump.
Reluctantly, she put the car into drive.
But as she moved forward a red pickup truck screeched by, swung in front of her, and pulled in close to the curb.
She jammed on her brakes and barely missed crashing into the truck’s back bumper. Breathing deeply to calm herself, she waited for the driver to unload his passenger.
A child jumped down from the cab, a little girl around Megan’s age, but more sturdily built and with a mop of black curls. She scooted away, calling back over her shoulder, “’Bye, Dad! Thanks for the drive! See ya!”
The man tooted his horn in response and his truck moved forward, only to stop again sharply with a squeal of brakes.
Kendra had started forward as he did and now she had to brake sharply, too. She felt a twinge of irritation as the driver jumped down from the truck.
“Hey, Jodi!” he yelled. “Isn’t this Hot Dog Day?”
“Yikes!” The girl spun round and sped back to him.
He’d walked to the gates and Kendra drummed her fingers on the steering wheel as he whisked out his wallet and hastily handed over a bill. The child raced off again and in a moment had joined the lines filing into the school.
Her father started back toward the truck.
Kendra raked an impatient gaze over him.
He was tall, with wavy black hair; deeply tanned and very attractive in an earthy sort of way. Sexy, with a lean muscular build that was shown off to perfection in narrow-fitting blue jeans and a snug black T-shirt.
He chanced to glance her way and as their eyes met, he grinned, a slanting grin that revealed beautiful teeth, whiter than white.
“Kids.” Twinkling eyes fixed on her, he slid his wallet back into his hip pocket. “You’ve gotta—”
He broke off, his eyes widening, and stopped dead.
He had recognized her... and at exactly the same second as she had recognized him.
She swallowed, and stared back. The air between them seemed to shimmer, the way it always had when she’d looked at him in the past. It was odd and disturbing, and it was something she’d experienced with no other person.
No other man.
Only he hadn’t been a man then. He’d been a teenager. Bad and wild and from the wrong side of the tracks.
“Not your kind of boy, missy!”
But she hadn’t needed her grandfather to warn her of that. She’d been well aware of it. Of the differences between them.
She wondered now what he was thinking. Were his thoughts paralleling hers? Probably. She’d never made any secret of her disdain for him.
His smile was no longer lazy or friendly, but mocking.
Yes, he remembered...
“Well, now!” With the careless swagger that had been his trademark as a teenager, he moved over to her car. Her nerves seemed to jump as he planted a hand on the Honda’s roof and leaned down to her open window. “If it isn’t the snooty Westmore brat. Come home to claim her inheritance.”
“Well, now, if it isn’t that no-good Spencer kid!” She tilted her chin up and looked straight into eyes that were blue-green and fringed with thick black lashes. “Would you mind moving your old beater,