smiled sadly. “He died of cancer when Devin was twelve.” She smiled sadly. “I think part of Dev’s problem with Matthew is that he doesn’t like to see another man in Ray’s place.”
“That’s why Devin likes Harleys,” said Rachel slowly, “and cowboy hats.”
Katherine nodded. “Are your parents alive, Rachel?”
“My father passed away some years ago. My mother lives in Hamilton.” She recited the facts the way she always did, without emotion.
“No siblings?”
“No. They’d pretty much given up on having a family when they had me. Mom was forty-five when I was born, my father forty-nine.”
“And you were their miracle.”
For a moment Rachel said nothing, looking down at her hands. Heavy expectations, heavy disappointments. “Some people aren’t meant to be parents.” She’d never voiced the thought before. But she needed to practice surrendering secrets.
“And some are,” said Devin, behind her, resting his hands, big, warm and reassuring, on her shoulders. “Mom, how many times do I have to tell you to close the front door? Anyone can walk in. Where’s Mark?”
“Picking peaches for me,” said Katherine. They all looked out the window and burst out laughing. Mark was balanced precariously on a forked branch near the top of the tree, using his cell phone.
DAMN, HE’D MISSED the call.
Red bucket propped against his feet in the fork of the tree, Mark listened to the dial tone. With his left hand, he absently picked a small white peach.
He checked his messages, saw the last one was from Trixie, and got nervous. He’d told her about his birth mother and she’d immediately offered to check staff records for women aged thirty-two to thirty-seven, teenagers when he’d been born. That would really help, because it was nearly impossible to tell females’ ages from looking at them.
Maybe Trixie had found something. Taking a deep breath, he listened to her message. “Just to tell you, I’ve printed off the list of names, and while you’re enjoying yourself in the rock star’s mansion, I’ll be cross-referencing all afternoon. But don’t feel bad about it.”
Grinning, Mark replaced the phone in his pocket. She was still pissed that she hadn’t been invited, but when he’d hinted as much to Devin, he’d replied, “Tough. Restful women only.”
“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather be alone with Rachel?” he’d asked.
“Yeah, I would, but she insisted on a chaperone.” When Mark looked doubtful, Devin had laughed. “I’m joking. It’s just a hang-out weekend, buddy. Good food, a little swimming, a couple of jam sessions and my mother’s birthday dinner. Think you can cope?”
Mark had relaxed. “Yeah, your mom’s cool.”
And he was kind of relieved Trixie hadn’t been invited. Although she was a goddess among women, and being in her orbit was still better than floating alone in the universe, a guy liked to be in charge occasionally. Mark had decided he preferred his love unrequited.
As he returned to picking peaches he felt a frisson of excitement along with the old familiar dread. Today could be the day he found out the name of his birth mother.
DEVIN DIDN’T KNOW WHY he was nervous showing Rachel his house. Maybe because this was his retreat, the one place he was truly himself. Maybe it was because he’d decided on the decorating, and having seen Rachel’s neighborhood, he figured she’d hate modernism.
But as always, the librarian surprised him. “Vibrant, colorful, brash and in your face-it’s you.” She held her hands out to the cardinal-red feature wall as though it radiated heat. “I love it.” She wandered through the spacious rooms, admiring his art collection, pausing at the nudes. “Ex-wives?”
“Very funny.” The odd girlfriend maybe.
Rachel walked to the glass wall overhanging the cliff. “I feel like I’m in an eagle’s nest.”
“That was the effect I wanted… Let me show you where you’re sleeping.”
He’d deliberately put her in the bedroom close to his-with Mark shipped to the L-shaped wing at the other end of the house. Rachel frowned as she took in the setup, but Mark was with them so she didn’t comment.
But later, as they lay on sun loungers by the pool, digesting one of Devin’s Tex-Mex specials, while Mark pitted himself against the swim jets, she said, “I’m onto you, Freedman.”
He’d been watching her, lazily thinking her figure was wasted in that polka-dotted one-piece, and wondering if she’d let him buy her a bikini.
He and Mark had spent the past couple of hours messing around with the teenager’s songs in the music room, while Rachel made endless cups of hot tea and sat, knees curled under her, on the white leather couch reading a book and seemingly oblivious.
Except she’d tapped her pink-painted toes to the rhythm and her eyes kept raising to Mark. Devin had realized he was showboating, not his skills but the boy’s. It was a present he could give her, an insight into her son’s talent.
In the end she’d stopped pretending to read and simply listened as Devin fine-tuned Mark’s ideas, while the teenager basked in all the attention. One day, Devin thought, I want her to look at me like that.
He hadn’t had a good morning. Today was the deadline for Zander to respond to his ultimatum, and Devin hadn’t heard anything.
Happy birthday, Mom. First thing Monday, I’m initiating legal proceedings against your eldest son.
Devin had even considered canceling the weekend, but Rachel needed this time with Mark. And now a few hours later here he was, strangely content.
“How are you onto me, Heartbreaker?” Her pale skin was reddening in the sun. He unscrewed the lid on a tube of sunscreen and dotted some on her nose. What was it about this woman that made him feel so protective?
“I can do that.” She took the tube from him. Oh, yeah, her fierce independence. “And I’m onto you because underneath the rock star bluster you’re a kind man-with your mom, with me, with Mark.”
Devin hadn’t expected that and wasn’t sure how to respond. “Keep thinking of me as a selfish prick, then I won’t disappoint you,” he said at last.
She finished applying sunscreen to her face and slathered some onto her shoulders, skirting the apple-green halter neck of her retro bathing suit. “For an egomaniac,” she said thoughtfully, “you have a lot of trouble accepting a real compliment.”
He watched Mark splash around the pool. The ego was for music. In his personal life, Devin had never been sure of his identity. People saw whatever image they projected on the famous, and as much as that irked Devin, it also protected him. No one knew who he was. Then he’d stopped drinking and discovered he didn’t, either. Now he was trying to find out, and Rachel’s remark set the benchmark high. He wasn’t used to living up to people’s expectations, wasn’t sure if he always could.
But she made him want to grow. Could he?
Could he reveal himself to be as vulnerable to rejection as other men? Yet he’d never lacked courage. “You asked me on Wednesday why I’m doing this. It’s more than friendship, Rachel. I think I’m in love with you.”
Rubbing sunscreen over her legs, she paused, then her movements became brisk. “Of course you are. I’m the first ordinary woman you’ve spent time with. Understandably, you’re dazzled.” She started screwing the lid back on the tube.
“You don’t like the idea,” he said flatly.
“I don’t exactly fit the Devin Freedman template, do I? For a start, I’m only a B cup.”
Her flippant replies were irritating the hell out of him. Then he noticed Rachel was having trouble screwing the cap on. Taking it from her, he finished the job. “I’ve never met anyone who avoids risk the way you do. You chicken out if you have to. But if I want to love you, I’ll bloody love you, got that?”
“Well, you can’t,” she retorted. “That was never our deal.”
Understanding dawned on him and with it, incredulity. “You’re pissed because I’m suggesting more than a fling? If I didn’t have a rock star-size ego I’d be insulted by that.”
“That’s silly.” But a telltale blush spread across her cheeks.
