to see that rock wearing down. It horrified her to think of that rock one day not being there at all.
“Papa?” she said, her voice softer, less antagonistic. “Please?”
He frowned, then grabbed a handkerchief from his back pocket to wipe the sweat from his forehead. Shoving the cloth back into his work pants, he nodded. “It
is
hot. Maybe me and my girl should go sit in the shade and take a rest.”
Now that he’d given in, she felt better, and wanting to get them both back on their usual track, Mike winked, slung her arm over his shoulders, and steered him for the shade. “Your girl, huh? So, Papa, does that mean
me
? Or Grace?”
He stopped dead, turned his head and looked at her. Narrowing his eyes, he studied her for a long minute before his lips twitched. “Michaela,” he said, lifting one index finger to wave at her. “That smart mouth of yours is going to give you trouble one day.”
She kissed him and laughed. Everything was okay again. He’d never been able to stay mad at his daughters. The man had a heart as soft as his head was hard. “ThenI’ll just run home to my papa.
He’ll
protect me.”
“Yes, he will,” Papa said, wrapping his thick, beefy arm around her waist and giving her a squeeze. “Your sisters? They know, too? About Grace?”
Mike laughed. “Please. We’re Marconis. Of
course
we know everything.”
He sighed and dropped into a lawn chair as Mike poured him some iced tea from the jug in the cooler. The deeply shaded spot was as welcoming as a sweet dip into a chilly pond. Papa accepted a glass, took a long drink, then winked up at her and said, “Girls are so bossy. I should have had boys.”
Grinning at the old complaint that meant absolutely nothing, Mike plopped down on the dirt at his feet and leaned her head against his knee. “You’d have missed us.”
“You’re right,” he said softly, one hand playing with Mike’s long blond braid. “I need my girls—and I wouldn’t change a thing.”
“Me, either, Papa.” Mike closed her eyes and concentrated on the moment, etching this one tiny piece of time into her brain. “Me, either.”
Three days since the last time he’d seen her and Lucas still felt the residual effect of kissing Michaela Marconi. It helped him to think of her as Michaela, while remembering the incredible sensations she’d aroused in him. After all, a lover named Mike wasn’t something he’d ever considered.
He laughed at the thought. Hell, there was absolutelynothing about Mike that wasn’t completely feminine. She smiled and her eyes lit up. She laughed and everyone around her lit up.
Rocket Man
.
He grinned and caught himself. Damn it, he didn’t have time for this.
Shoving thoughts of Mike to one side, he focused on the computer screen and told himself to concentrate. His desk faced the window, most likely a big mistake. He’d probably spend too much time staring out at the pretty spectacular view.
From the second-story office at the back of the house, he could watch the wind dance across the surface of the lake. From his bedroom at the front of the house, he could almost catch a glimpse of a strip of ocean. When the wind hit the trees just right, they parted long enough for him to see that line of blue water where it met the blue sky and land and air dissolved into each other.
His yard was green and even now being filled with plants by a team of gardeners who spoke such rapid-fire Spanish that he missed most of the conversation, even though he spoke the language. The trees surrounding the house gave it a sense of peace and isolation that he’d been looking for when he left the lab.
A man more used to his own solitary company than to that of hordes of people needed quiet to work. Not that he was getting a hell of a lot of work done.
Scowling, he turned his gaze back to the computer screen, ignoring the near siren call of the wind battering the leaves and the birds singing and the soft sigh of the reeds dancing at the
“Papa?” she said, her voice softer, less antagonistic. “Please?”
He frowned, then grabbed a handkerchief from his back pocket to wipe the sweat from his forehead. Shoving the cloth back into his work pants, he nodded. “It
is
hot. Maybe me and my girl should go sit in the shade and take a rest.”
Now that he’d given in, she felt better, and wanting to get them both back on their usual track, Mike winked, slung her arm over his shoulders, and steered him for the shade. “Your girl, huh? So, Papa, does that mean
me
? Or Grace?”
He stopped dead, turned his head and looked at her. Narrowing his eyes, he studied her for a long minute before his lips twitched. “Michaela,” he said, lifting one index finger to wave at her. “That smart mouth of yours is going to give you trouble one day.”
She kissed him and laughed. Everything was okay again. He’d never been able to stay mad at his daughters. The man had a heart as soft as his head was hard. “ThenI’ll just run home to my papa.
He’ll
protect me.”
“Yes, he will,” Papa said, wrapping his thick, beefy arm around her waist and giving her a squeeze. “Your sisters? They know, too? About Grace?”
Mike laughed. “Please. We’re Marconis. Of
course
we know everything.”
He sighed and dropped into a lawn chair as Mike poured him some iced tea from the jug in the cooler. The deeply shaded spot was as welcoming as a sweet dip into a chilly pond. Papa accepted a glass, took a long drink, then winked up at her and said, “Girls are so bossy. I should have had boys.”
Grinning at the old complaint that meant absolutely nothing, Mike plopped down on the dirt at his feet and leaned her head against his knee. “You’d have missed us.”
“You’re right,” he said softly, one hand playing with Mike’s long blond braid. “I need my girls—and I wouldn’t change a thing.”
“Me, either, Papa.” Mike closed her eyes and concentrated on the moment, etching this one tiny piece of time into her brain. “Me, either.”
Three days since the last time he’d seen her and Lucas still felt the residual effect of kissing Michaela Marconi. It helped him to think of her as Michaela, while remembering the incredible sensations she’d aroused in him. After all, a lover named Mike wasn’t something he’d ever considered.
He laughed at the thought. Hell, there was absolutelynothing about Mike that wasn’t completely feminine. She smiled and her eyes lit up. She laughed and everyone around her lit up.
Rocket Man
.
He grinned and caught himself. Damn it, he didn’t have time for this.
Shoving thoughts of Mike to one side, he focused on the computer screen and told himself to concentrate. His desk faced the window, most likely a big mistake. He’d probably spend too much time staring out at the pretty spectacular view.
From the second-story office at the back of the house, he could watch the wind dance across the surface of the lake. From his bedroom at the front of the house, he could almost catch a glimpse of a strip of ocean. When the wind hit the trees just right, they parted long enough for him to see that line of blue water where it met the blue sky and land and air dissolved into each other.
His yard was green and even now being filled with plants by a team of gardeners who spoke such rapid-fire Spanish that he missed most of the conversation, even though he spoke the language. The trees surrounding the house gave it a sense of peace and isolation that he’d been looking for when he left the lab.
A man more used to his own solitary company than to that of hordes of people needed quiet to work. Not that he was getting a hell of a lot of work done.
Scowling, he turned his gaze back to the computer screen, ignoring the near siren call of the wind battering the leaves and the birds singing and the soft sigh of the reeds dancing at the
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