Return of the Prodigal Son (8 page)

She pressed her forehead to the cool glass and waited for her heart to return to its normal rhythm.

It shamed her to admit that she had been completely lost the moment his mouth touched hers. If he hadn’t had the sense to put an end to that kiss, this night might have taken a very different turn.

Despite the heat of the summer night, she shivered as she made her way up the stairs to her bedroom. The thought of being loved by Donovan Lassiter was every bit as tempting now as it had been when she’d been a schoolgirl.

And every bit as foolish.

If his reputation was to be believed, Donovan didn’t love; he simply took his pleasures, whenever, wherever he pleased. He plundered. He collected trophies. And then he moved on, never to be seen again.

She had no intention of being any man’s conquest. In fact, she had no intention of being any man’s anything, ever again. She had her hands full just getting through her days as a mother. She’d leave the fanciful romances to others.

She slipped into bed, determined to put all thought of Donovan Lassiter out of her mind.

Chapter 6

D
onovan typed some words on his keyboard, initiated the search engine and sat back, watching as dozens of pages of information began flashing across the screen.

It had been three days since he’d seen Andi Brady or her children. He ought to be grateful for that little scene at her place. It had pushed him into an orgy of work to keep from thinking about her.

When he wasn’t working on his book, or on the Adam Brady file, he was sleeping. The last time he’d crashed into bed, he’d slept for fourteen hours. At the moment he felt like a new man. Of course, he hadn’t shaved for days. And there was no food in the house. But getting food would have required getting dressed, driving into town and shopping. None of which appealed to him. He much preferred to subsist on dry cereal, since he was out of milk, and peanut butter, eaten directly out of the jar, since he had no bread or crackers left to spread it on.

He was nearly out of clean clothes, as well. He would soon have to deal with dirty laundry. But not just yet. Today he was wearing a pair of khaki shorts that had been new ten years ago and a faded camp shirt he’d won in a poker game in Ghana from an old pal, Joe Bentley. He frowned, remembering the friend who had gone down in a helicopter over San Salvador. Too young. So many of them had died too young.

He glanced at the crash investigator’s report and noted Adam Brady’s age. Thirty-four. Another one gone too soon.

Donovan leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.
Only the good die young.
It had been a favorite phrase among the group of brash young government agents who had called themselves The Lost. If the saying proved to be true, he could hope to live a very long life.

Suddenly something on the monitor caught his eye. He hit a button, stopped the scroll, and read through the page. Satisfied that this was what he’d been searching for, he printed it out and added it to the growing pile of documents on his desk.

The sound of voices had him strolling to the window.

Cory and Taylor were stalking something in the bushes. Donovan stepped out onto his front porch.

“There he is.”

“Keep your voice down, Taylor.” Cory was wearing his usual frown. “Mom’ll skin us if we bother Donovan.”

Donovan crept up behind them and said in his best whisper, “Not to mention what Donovan will do to you.”

“Oh.” Taylor gave a shriek and ducked behind her big brother, then peered out from behind him.

Cory lifted his chin as he faced Donovan. “We weren’t being loud.”

“That’s right. You weren’t. But why are you whispering?”

“Mom said we couldn’t bother you.”

Taylor’s voice trembled. “Are we bothering you, Donovan?”

“No. I needed to take a break from my work. This is the perfect time to get some fresh air.” He nodded toward the bushes. “You chasing that woodchuck again?”

“Uh-huh.” Taylor was quick to defend herself. “I don’t want to put him in a cage. I just want to get close enough to give him some food.”

“He’s pretty good at getting his own. What did you want to feed him?”

Taylor held out her hand. In it were some carrot sticks. “Mama said he’s probably a veginarian.”

He tried not to laugh. “Vegetarian.”

“Uh-huh.” Taylor’s smile grew. “But Cory said he probably eats bugs and stuff. What do you think, Donovan?”

“I think he eats both. Bugs and vegetables.”

“If I sit right here in the grass and hold out a carrot, do you think he’ll come up and take it from my hand?”

“I doubt it, honey.” Donovan gave her a gentle smile. “He’s a little bit shy. Do you know what that means?”

“He’s shy?” Her eyes grew round, and he could see that she was feeling a real kinship toward the woodchuck.

“That’s right. I think you’d have to leave the carrots here in the grass and walk away before he’d come up and help himself.”

“Then I’ll put them right here.” She carefully arranged the carrots in a circle before stepping back.

“Cory. Taylor.” Andi’s voice drifted up from the gravel drive. When she rounded the bend and found her children with Donovan, two bright spots of color appeared on her cheeks.

“I’m sorry.” The first sight of him was a shock. How could any man who hadn’t shaved and was wearing a wrinkled shirt and shorts do such strange things to her heart? She knew men who wouldn’t look that good if they were dressed in black tie. Yet here he was, barefoot and rumpled, making her blush like a schoolgirl. “Cory and Taylor, I told you not to bother Donovan.”

“He said we aren’t bothering him, Mama.” Taylor caught her mother’s hand and led her toward the tall grass. “Donovan says the woodchuck is shy, so I left him some carrots to eat when we’re gone.”

“That’s nice, honey.” Andi turned to Cory. “Time to go.”

“Where?” Her son had his arms crossed over his chest, the way he did when he was ready to give her a hard time.

“Into town. I have to get some groceries and run some errands.”

“I don’t want to go.”

“You have no choice. I’m going, and you can’t stay alone.”

“Why? I’m not a baby, Mom.”

“I know you aren’t.” She tried to keep her tone light, but it wasn’t easy. “I wouldn’t be much of a mother if I didn’t look out for your safety. So I guess you’ll just have to come along with me while I run my errands, whether you like it or not.”

Donovan could see that Cory was about to dig in his heels and make a scene. “Why don’t you let him stay with me?”

The boy couldn’t hide his surprise. “You mean it?”

“Sure.”

“Can I stay, too?” Taylor pulled away from her mother and hurried over to stand beside her brother.

“Now, Taylor…”

Before Andi could refuse, Donovan nodded. “You can both stay. I’m thinking it’s time I unpacked, anyway. You two can give me a hand. If you can stand the clutter, that is.”

“You’re sure?” Andi seemed torn between relief at not having to drag her reluctant children along and regret at leaving them in Donovan’s pigsty.

“Yeah. We’ll be fine.”

“Is there anything you need while I’m in town?”

“As long as you’re offering…” Donovan dug into his pockets and came up with a handful of money. “I don’t need much. Some milk, bread, eggs and fresh fruit.” As he handed it over he caught a whiff of perfume. It seemed ironic that someone who looked as sweet and fresh and vibrant as a spring morning could smell so sinful.

“All right.” As she accepted the money from his hand, she felt the heat of his gaze and stepped back, as though sensing she needed to get out of harm’s way. “Well. I guess I’ll see you later.”

“Oh, wow.” Cory’s anger of the past few days was forgotten. “Come on, Donovan. Let’s get started. You’ve got all that great junk.”

“Yeah. May as well.” Donovan stood a minute more, watching the sway of Andi’s hips in the knit, ankle-hugging dress that flattered every line and curve of her body. She looked like a fashion model with those strappy sandals and that little sweater tossed carelessly over her shoulders. All she needed was one of those wide-brimmed hats to look as if she was going to a garden party.

He turned away, grateful for the distraction of the boy and girl. At least with them around he wouldn’t have time to torment himself with thoughts of what he’d like to do with their mother.

“Where are you going to put all this stuff?” Cory was already attacking the first box.

“I’ve got those shelves and cabinets over there.” Donovan pointed to the two wall units. “And there are more shelves in the kitchen and in my bedroom.”

“You’ve got a bedroom?” Cory glanced at the sofa. “I figured you slept there.”

“I do. Sometimes. But only when my bed is covered with too much stuff.”

Taylor looked up. “Didn’t your mama make you hang your clothes when you were little?”

He paused and smiled. “Not only my mom, but my grandfather. Now there was a real nag.”

Cory paused. “Did you see your grandfather a lot?”

“Every day. He lived with us.”

“Why?” Cory dropped a handful of shirts and sat back on his heels.

“After my father died, Pop moved in with us. I think it was only going to be for a little while, until my mom could pull things together. But then she decided to go back to college and then law school, and he just stayed.”

“That’s pretty neat.” Cory began rummaging through another box, hoping to find more than dingy shirts and jeans. “I think our grandparents are mad at us.”

“Now why do you say that?” Donovan picked up the clothes scattered across the floor and sofa and began carrying them toward the laundry room.

Cory trailed behind. “‘Cause we haven’t seen them since our dad died.”

“Maybe they’re hurting.”

The boy shook his head and bent to retrieve a sock that had fallen from Donovan’s arms. “Mom let us call them a few times. Gramps always said Grandma couldn’t come to the phone. She was busy or shopping or out with friends. But she never called back.”

“How about your mom’s parents?”

“Her mom is dead. And her dad lives in California with his new wife. He wanted us to come and stay with him for a while, but Mom said we belong here.”

Donovan sorted the clothes into piles and started the washer. Then he led the way back to the front room, where Taylor was happily studying an assortment of masks she’d found in one of the boxes.

“Look at me, Cory,” she called, holding a mask to her face.

“You look weird.” He turned to Donovan. “Where’d you get those?”

“A village in Africa. They were a gift from the chief.” He crossed the room. “Let’s put them on this shelf, Taylor.”

The little girl used a stool to reach the shelf, where she began arranging the masks in a row.

Cory walked over to help, studying the intricate design of the mask he pulled from a box. “Why did the chief want to give you a gift?”

“Because I helped him out with a little problem.”

“What kind of problem?”

Donovan smiled, remembering. “I helped him end a little war.” He stood back. “They look good there, Taylor. I think I’ll hire you as my decorator.”

The little girl giggled.

Cory moved to the next box and opened it to reveal a pair of high-powered binoculars. As he lifted them to his eyes and began fiddling with the dials, he let out a hoot of excitement. “Wow. I can see every feather on that bird up in that tree.” He fiddled some more and then, unwilling to believe what he was seeing, held the glasses away, then back to his eyes. “Donovan, I can see the bird’s eye. And the speckles on his feathers.”

“Yeah. They’re pretty powerful.”

The boy ran to a window and continued peering at everything, amazed at what he could see through them. Soon he was distracted by Taylor’s yelp of pleasure when she found, in another box, an assortment of pottery and baskets. “These are pretty, Donovan.” She held up an intricately woven basket. “Can we put them on the shelves, too?”

“Sure, honey. You hand them to me and I’ll put them up here.” He began arranging the baskets and pottery, then added a few of the bigger pots beside the fireplace. “How’s this?”

“Pretty.” She dimpled, enjoying her task as decorator.

Cory walked up beside him and knelt beside one of the baskets. “Where’d you get all this stuff?”

Donovan shrugged. “Here and there. Some of this is from Colombia, some from Guatemala.” He chuckled as he fingered one of the pieces of pottery. “This is from Nigeria. An old woman handed it to me as I was getting on the plane and told me it had belonged to her mother.”

“Why did she give it to you?”

“She wanted to thank me. For getting her son out of some trouble.”

“Were you a policeman?” Taylor asked.

“In a way. Sort of a global policeman.”

“Weren’t you ever afraid?” Cory looked up from the box he was rummaging through.

Donovan sat back on his heels. “Sometimes. Everybody is afraid of something. Whether it’s a fear of strangers or a fear of flying or a fear of snakes or spiders.”

Taylor shivered. “I’m afraid of all those things.”

“You’re scared of everything,” Cory scoffed. “Even your own shadow.”

“Am not.”

“Are, too.”

She relented. “Maybe I am. But I can’t help it.” She turned to Donovan. “What do you do when you’re scared?”

“If I have something important to do, I just put aside my fear and deal with whatever comes my way. Otherwise I’ll let fear rule my life. Not only rule it, but ruin it. And I just can’t do that.”

Taylor looked at him adoringly. “Are you stronger than Superman?”

He chuckled. “Sorry. I’m not even close. But we can all act like him when we’re in trouble. And do you know why?”

The two children, staring at him with rapt attention, shook their heads.

He touched a finger to his temple. “Because this is where our strength lies. Our brain. If we think things through and refuse to give in to our fears, we can get through almost any dangerous situation.”

Cory pulled out a ragged coat from the bottom of a box and held it up. “Why would you keep something like this?”

Donovan looked over. Something flickered in his eyes before he composed himself. “That was my father’s. Even though it’s falling apart, I like wearing it.” He took it from the boy’s hands and hung it almost reverently on a hook by the front door. Then he pointed toward the kitchen. “Come on. There are lots more boxes in there. Let’s get to work.”