A Sinclair Homecoming (The Sinclairs of Alaska) (7 page)

“Look at you, all spiritual now.” He grinned, teasing. “I’m kidding. I’m glad to see you so happy. Makes me think I’m actually missing out by remaining a lone wolf.”

She rolled her eyes. “Lone wolf. In your dreams. More like strange squirrel.”

“Hey!” Wade lobbed a pea at her, and she dodged with a gasp.

“We’re in a restaurant,” she said with mock outrage. “What would our parents say?”

“Well, if our mother was in her right mind and our father wasn’t in jail, I’d probably get an earful or a thump on the head—then again, I’m not twelve so...”

“Yeah, yeah...” Miranda laughed and sighed as they both realized the evening was drawing to a close. “What if Mom doesn’t respond to therapy?” she asked.

“I don’t know. Guess we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

“Are you going to visit Dad in jail?”

He sighed; seeing his father behind bars wasn’t something he was looking forward to. “I suppose. Doesn’t seem right to come all the way home and not see him, right?”

“It’s up to you. But I can’t help but think that it will make a difference if he sees you. I think he’s taken it personal that you haven’t come home in so long.”

“Why is that?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Just a feeling.”

“Have you gone to see him?”

“Of course. I can’t
not
visit him. Even though Trace is pretty mad at him, he still offered to bail him out, which Dad refused, and now Trace won’t talk to him at all.”

“I never in a million years imagined that I’d someday visit my dad in jail. What happened to our family?” It was a rhetorical question; they both knew what happened. He pulled some cash from his wallet but Miranda stopped him and put her credit card down instead. “You have a wedding to pay for. Let me get this one,” he protested.

“Nope. I asked you to dinner and so I’ll pay. You can catch the next one.”

He grudgingly agreed but he was happy to see his sister doing so well. There’d been a time when he’d been worried about her. Her old boyfriend Johnny had been a real treat from what he’d heard. Maybe it’d been a blessing that he hadn’t been here to see the crap he put Miranda through. He couldn’t say he wouldn’t have punched the loser in the face.

They said their goodbyes, and Wade forcefully refrained from glancing in Morgan’s direction as they exited the restaurant. He didn’t want to try and gauge how her date was going by her body language or facial expression and he just knew that he might if he dared to send a single look her way. He walked Miranda to her car and hugged her again, thanking her for talking him into dinner. The air had a serious bite and he sensed snow on the way. Funny how he could leave and come back, and the old instincts returned.

Miranda drove away, and instead of climbing into his car, Wade detoured to the main street filled with a row of darkened shops and walked the sidewalk, even though it looked as though every shop was closed. He was uncertain why he didn’t just go back to his hotel and watch some television but he found himself drawn to the one place on the block that wasn’t blacked out.

Classical music drifted from the building, and Wade decided to check it out. He opened the door and was blasted with warmth as he entered the building, which he determined was an art gallery. He appreciated art but wasn’t exactly an authority on what constituted good art. However, it was a way to pass the time so he wandered the building, looking at each piece along with the others.

“What do you think?” a female voice chirped behind him, and he turned to see a woman of medium height, unnaturally glossy black hair and a bright smile, watching him. “Before you answer, I should disclose that I’m the artist,” she admitted as she stuck out her hand. “Hi, I’m Mona.”

He accepted her handshake and smiled. “Hi, Mona. I’m Wade. Nice to meet you. So you’re the artist?”

“Guilty. So, now that you know you’re staring at my heart and soul, what do you think?”

Wade took a second look at the offering, noting the oddly shaped heads and general chaotic nature of the piece and tried to be polite, not wanting to offend. “It’s definitely eye-catching.”

“You don’t like it,” she deduced with a frown but before he could protest, she had started talking again. “It’s okay. Art is subjective. But the prevailing opinion seems to be the same as yours. It’s days like this I wonder if I ought to toss in the towel and apply at Wal-Mart.”

“It can’t be that bad. Besides, like you said, art is subjective. You just need to find the people who are looking for lopsided faces and bleeding cactus. That is a cactus, right?”

She nodded. “It’s a metaphor for what happens when you keep people at a distance. You know, it kills.”

“Oh. Right.” He nodded as if he understood but honestly, he was more of a straightforward kind of guy with no appreciation for metaphor—in real life or art. “Well, keep at it. Where would the world be without Salvador Dali or Rene Magritte?”

Her face lit up. “I am so impressed you know some surrealist artists! Most people’s understanding of art only goes so far.”

He laughed and held up his hands. “Whoa, I’m no art aficionado. Honestly, I only know enough to speak briefly at cocktail parties. Beyond that, I’m clueless.”

“Well, that’s a start, anyway,” she said, surprising him when she linked her arm through his. “I like you, Wade. You’re smart, funny and you’re not hard on the eyes. Where have you been my whole life?”

Wade didn’t know what to think about the artist Mona but he was intrigued by her open nature. And, well, to be honest, she was pretty cute. However, she did remind him of someone that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. He smiled down at her and quipped, “In administration.”

“Ugh. Desk duty. Not my scene,” Mona said, but her smile brightened as she said, “So the showing is just about over...how about you and I take this introduction someplace else?”

“Such as?”

“I’m down for whatever.” She snuggled up more tightly against him, and he received an enticing view of her cleavage, thanks to the push-up of her black bustier. “We could go to my place...” She smiled suggestively and his blood heated.

It’d been a while since he and Elizabeth had been together and his libido was more than happy to get more acquainted with this quirky, cute artist. But was that wise? His intuition warned him that dallying with strange women on a return home wasn’t a smart move but he was intrigued and, well, starting to remember how much he loved the feel of a woman pressed against him.

“Sure, I guess we could do that,” he said, laughing when she squealed and did a little happy dance.

“This is going to be fun! I just know it!”

Then he and his newfound friend climbed into his car and took off for her place.

And when a little voice in his head warned him that he was going to regret this...he slammed the door and threw away the key.

CHAPTER EIGHT

T
HAT
WAS
THE
longest dinner date of her life. Morgan yawned and placed her purse on the entry table, rubbing her eyes, intent on a single objective—a glass of wine and bed.

But as she went toward the kitchen, she heard the distinct sound of laughter coming from her living room. Mona, she realized as she recognized the laugh, must have been using her house as a place to entertain. It was something her sister often did when she wanted to impress someone. Ordinarily, Morgan didn’t mind as long as she received a courtesy call to let her know but tonight she was tired, grouchy and irritated that Mona hadn’t even given her a heads-up. But as she rounded the corner, ready to give her sister a piece of her mind, she startled when she saw who Mona was entertaining.

“Wade Sinclair?” The name escaped her mouth in a shocked gasp, immediately followed by intense discomfort over what she deduced was happening. “What is going on here? Please tell me this isn’t what it looks like.”

Mona glanced up at Morgan’s sharp query, and Wade’s gaze widened in recognition as he immediately put distance between himself and Mona. “Um...this is awkward,” he said, looking as embarrassed as a teenaged boy who’d been caught by his parents making out with a girl.

Ugh. Had he been about to make a move on her sister? She shouldn’t care—but she did.

“I didn’t realize...”

She waved away his attempts to explain, definitely not interested in suffering through the uncomfortable stumblings of this awkward social encounter. Instead, she directed her comment to Mona, lasering her with a stern glare. “The next time you bring someone to my house to
entertain,
you have to let me know. Those are the rules and they haven’t changed.”

“Geesh, party pooper. You’re in a fine mood,” Mona groused then gestured to Morgan. “Wade, I believe you’ve already met my sister, Morgan.”

“Sister...” The word slipped from Wade’s mouth as understanding hit him between the eyes, and Morgan graced him with a brief but ultimately aggrieved smile. “This is... I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize...”

“I know. It’s fine.” No, it wasn’t. “But if you wouldn’t mind calling it an evening...I would appreciate it.”

“Of course,” he said, bobbing a nod and grabbing his coat, but Mona wasn’t too happy to lose her companion and abruptly stood, her hands going to her hips in an annoyed fashion.

“Hey, hold on now,” Mona said, glaring at Morgan. “Just because you’re in a pissy mood doesn’t mean you have to come in and rain on my parade. Wade and I were having a wonderful conversation before you busted in and went all mean face on us. Weren’t we?” She looked at Wade for confirmation, then added, “Don’t mind my sister. She can be a giant wet blanket at times.”

A wet blanket?
Oh, that girl had balls. “Excuse me, I’m not in the mood for your shenanigans, Mona. I’m tired and I just want to go to bed.”

“I think Morgan is right. We should call it a night,” Wade said, going to the door in spite of Mona’s protests.

Morgan spared him the awkward goodbyes. “I’m sorry, this must be very uncomfortable for you,” she allowed. “But my sister has a bad habit of bringing home people she shouldn’t.”

Mona gasped, offended. “Okay, now you’re just being a jerk. What are you talking about? How was I supposed to know that Wade was
your
Wade?”

“Whoa,” Wade exclaimed, shifting his gaze from one woman to the other. “I’m no one’s Wade. I think there’s some confusion here.”

“Settle down. It’s just a saying. I didn’t know that you were the one my sister was talking about the other night.”

“You’ve been talking about my mother’s case?” He scowled, immediately on guard. “Isn’t that a breach of patient confidentiality?”

“Please, nothing was said that was a breach of anyone’s confidentiality.” Morgan tried to assure Wade but she could see a storm gathering behind his eyes. Not that she blamed him; if she thought someone was talking about her personal business, she’d be pretty upset, too.
Damn you, Mona, for making a mess of things.
Maybe she’d erred in judgment in the small details she’d shared with Mona the other day. She worried her bottom lip, concerned but ultimately, just eager to put a pin in this day. “Let’s just put an end to this evening and start fresh in the morning. Everything will look better with the rise of a new day.”

Mona rolled her eyes. “There you go, my sister’s solution to everything.” She turned to Wade and said, “Come on, we can go back to my place, my
real
place. I guess you figured out that this is my sister’s house.”

But Wade wasn’t about to do that. “Sorry, I think this has gotten a little too uncomfortable for my tastes.” Wade put his hand on the doorknob but stopped as if he wanted to apologize or comment but in the end he just left with a chagrined expression. As soon as the door closed behind him Mona whirled on her sister.

“What the hell? Why did you do that? I really liked him. You’re the world’s most effective chastity belt.”

“Don’t start with me. For one, there’s a conflict of interest. Two, there is no way in hell you need to be messing around with Wade Sinclair. I think the poor man has enough problems without you entering into the mix.”

Mona gasped, outraged. “Unbelievable. My own sister—stabbing me in the back. Nice. And for your information there is no conflict of interest—not for me. He’s the first guy that I’ve felt a real connection with and then you come along and stomp on it. Who cares if he’s the son of one of your clients? Big deal. In a small town that’s bound to happen at some point. Besides, did you see the way that man was looking at me like I was a cheesecake and he was coming off a sugar withdrawal? Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had a man look at me like that?”

It was Morgan’s turn to groan. “I’m not going to waste time debating your love life. Bottom line is, back off. Did
you
see how uncomfortable he was? Now I’ll have to work twice as hard to gain his confidence because of this situation. You just made my job harder, as if it wasn’t hard enough as it is. I really don’t appreciate this, Mona. Sometimes you’re so incredibly selfish.”

“Ugh. You sound just like Mom. And here I thought you would always have my back.”

“Don’t you pull that with me. I do have your back. But it seems to be a one-way street with you. What happened to calling me when you plan to use my house? What happened to that courtesy?”

Mona shrugged as if it couldn’t have been helped. “It happened on the fly. He walked into my gallery and it was like kismet. We connected on this level that defies explanation and of course, I can’t take him back to my place because it’s smaller than a closet. And besides, why are you home so early? You were supposed to be on a date with George.”

Morgan threw her hands up. “I
was
on a date with George! And by the end of it I wanted to run screaming from the restaurant. We don’t have anything in common, something that I knew already, and the dinner was excruciating for both of us. So I came home early. I was looking forward to a glass of wine and a quiet evening at home. And instead I got this.”

“Well, sorry! How was I supposed to know that you were going to have such a crappy time? And speaking of selfish, you haven’t even asked me how my second night went.”

Morgan pinched the bridge of her nose, just wanting to be done with this conversation and this night. But one look at her sister’s disappointed expression and she caved. “All right, I’ll bite. How did the second showing go?”

Mona sniffed as if only mildly mollified. “Marginally better. Tonight had a different crowd and there were actually a few people who seemed interested in purchasing a few of my more expensive prints.”

Hallelujah.
Morgan was beginning to think that Mona would never make a living from any of her art. “Well, that’s good, I suppose.”

“Yeah, it is. Felt good, actually. It kind of made up for some of the other opinions that were voiced.”

“Let me guess. You overheard some people saying they didn’t like it.”

“Worse. One guy actually called my art confusing and mildly disturbing.”

Morgan shrugged, yawning again. “Well, I don’t know if that’s bad. Picasso’s art makes me feel that way and he’s a classic so maybe you’re in good company.”

“Aww, you’re sweet. But you’re still not off the hook for ruining my date with Wade.”

“It wasn’t a date,” Morgan corrected her as she walked into the kitchen to grab the wine. “That was a booty call that I interrupted and I’m glad.”

“Booty call? Now that’s just rude. Maybe he was my soul mate.”

Morgan poured herself a glass of wine and took a deep swallow before answering. “He was not your soul mate,” she said, finding the very idea absurd. “Any man you would bring home on the spur of the moment is not your soul mate. That’s a booty call.” To be honest, she hated that notion, too. Morgan contemplated her internal knee-jerk reaction at the thought and found it troubling. Did she feel this way because of the professional ramifications or something far more personal?

Mona poured herself another glass of wine, as always, making herself completely at home, completely oblivious to Morgan’s troubled silence. “Okay, Miss Smarty-Pants, how exactly do you recognize a soul mate? It’s not like they walk around wearing name badges.”

Morgan was really the last person to counsel anyone on appropriate relationships but she had to keep up the pretense with her sister. She couldn’t bear to devastate Mona’s opinion of David, even if it was pure fiction. “Well, your soul mate is someone who is loyal, kind, generous with his time and heart and he doesn’t sleep with you on the first date.”

“Your version of a soul mate is boring. I think your soul mate is someone who sets your soul on fire. Someone who ignites your blood and makes you hunger for something that only they can provide.” Mona’s eyes lit up with her own description, falling in love with an ideal and certainly not reality.

Morgan wished things happened like that. In real life, it was hardly that explosive or earth shattering. “I think you missed your calling. Maybe you shouldn’t be painting but writing because this stuff is golden. Talk about fairy tales. I hate to break it to you but love is not all hearts and rainbows every second of the day. Sometimes love sucks.”

“How can you say that? You and David had a love affair. I’ve never seen anyone more in love with you than David. When you were in a room, his eyes never left you. It was as if he was consumed by you. I want that kind of love.”

“No, you don’t,” Morgan said before she could stop herself. She closed her eyes, realizing she’d made a mistake. Trying to recover, she smiled and said, “You’re right. Everyone’s experience with love is different. And David was very attentive,” Morgan added, choosing her words carefully. “I hope you meet someone who does all those things for you, but I just don’t want you to be pining for something that might be unrealistic. That’s all I’m saying.”

Mona sighed, sipping her wine. “I guess.” A moment of silence passed between them, and then Mona said, “So tell me your real opinion of Wade Sinclair...he’s handsome, right?”

“I suppose,” she answered carefully. Morgan had shut off that part of herself a long time ago and she was afraid what would happen if the switch were flipped. But there was something about Wade Sinclair that she found intriguing. There was a stoic strength about him that drew her with a glance and she sensed a great passion behind his eyes, and someday the right woman would benefit from it. But that woman wasn’t her. “I really don’t look at my clients that way, or the sons of my clients. It’s unethical.” That much was true, except the rules she set for herself seemed to bend when Wade was concerned. She shouldn’t notice or care how handsome he was—but she did. However, she’d chew off her own hand before she admitted that fact to Mona.

“You and the rules. Haven’t you ever just wanted to break the rules? I mean, come on, life isn’t about coloring inside the lines every single day. Besides, that guy is hot. He has this buttoned-down look but when he loosens up he’s really sexy with an utterly charming smile. Did you know he has a dimple?”

She was a sucker for dimples. Not that it mattered that Wade had a dimple. “Really? Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but Wade isn’t going to be sticking around for long. Unless you want to split Alaska and go back to California where he lives, it’s an ill-fated venture.”

Mona wrinkled her nose. “California? Yuck. Can’t stand that place.”

“To be fair, you had one bad experience. Actually, California would probably suit you very well. I’ve heard Berkeley is very friendly to artists.”

“Yeah, but then I wouldn’t really stand out then, would I? I would just be one more quirky artist running around Berkeley. Here, everyone knows who I am—I’m Mona, the artist. And I like being a big fish in a small pond. I get more dinner dates that way.”

“Mona, you’re incorrigible.”

“No, I think the word you’re searching for is
adorable.
”

Morgan couldn’t help but laugh. She couldn’t stay mad at Mona, no matter what she did. “Are you staying here tonight or are you borrowing one of my cars to go home, seeing as your ride left without you?”

“I think I’ll just stay in the guest bedroom tonight. I’m out of wood for the woodstove.”

“Ahh, and the truth comes out.”

“Well, that definitely played a part. It’s hard to get busy when your teeth are chattering.”

“Fine, you can stay. But I have to leave early in the morning. If you make breakfast in the kitchen please clean up your mess. The last time you left splattered eggs everywhere and it took me all night to scrape it off.”

“Are you really mad at me for bringing Wade here?” Mona asked.

“No. But I don’t want you to date him, okay?”

“Are you attracted to him?” Mona asked, shocking her with the sudden question. “I mean, I would be willing to step aside if you had your eye on him. You deserve a little fun. I mean, Wade looks like he could boogie down, if you know what I mean.”

Morgan actually blushed and uttered a tiny laugh at Mona’s assessment. “I have no doubt Wade can handle himself in the bedroom...but no, he’s not my type.”