Crime and Passion by Marie Ferrarella Page B

too.
    What the hell was going on in his head? Had seeing her so suddenly after all this time thrown him completely off-kilter?
    He was determined not to let it.
    Taking a breath, Clay deliberately made his way over toward her. Time to take the bull by the horns, to challenge himself to be a man and not a mouse.
    Right now, being a mouse was beginning to have its appeal.
    His father was right behind Ilene, another tray of the same origin in his hands. Any attempts at what could have been an apology to Ilene died before it was born.
    He frowned at his father. “I didn’t leave her here to be pressed into service, Dad.”
    Andrew placed the tray on a table, then took the one Ilene was holding and put it down next to the first. “Then maybe you should have stuck around a little this morning and been a little more explicit in your instructions.” To underscore his point, Andrew indicated Ilene with his eyes.
    His father was telling him he shouldn’t have left Ilene like that the first morning she was here. But this wasn’t a social thing; it was professional. And as a professional, he didn’t have time to baby-sit a woman he’d covertly forced to break up with him because he hadn’t had the nerve to make a commitment.
    “I don’t mind,” Ilene told him. The look on Clay’s face told her he didn’t believe her. “Helping out keeps me from going stir-crazy.” She glanced at Andrew and smiled. “Besides, I like pitching in.”
    “I can always use another pair of hands,” Andrew affirmed. He looked over to the side where he had Alex and Rachel folding napkins just to make the two feel part of the whole. The two children seemed to be getting along very well. He looked back at Clay. “Since you’re here, why don’t you go in and bring out your sister’s cake?” With a nod of his head, Clay began to head for the kitchen. “Don’t drop it,” Andrew called after him.
    Clay rolled his eyes as he kept walking. “I’m not ten, Dad.”
    “No, you’re not,” Andrew agreed. “What you are is clumsy.”
    Clay stopped dead and turned around. He held up one finger. “Once, I dropped something once,” he reminded his father.
    “It happens once, it can happen again.”
    “Make sure there’s no cat to trip over and it won’t,” Clay said over his shoulder as he made his way into the kitchen.
    He found Rayne there, dipping her finger into the whipped chocolate icing. She raised her eyes when she saw him walking in. A lop-sided grin lit her face.
    “Busted.”
    He laughed. “Hi, kid, happy birthday.”
    Rayne raised her chin. “I’m not a kid anymore. I’m twenty-five.”
    “And I’m two years older. To me, you’ll always be a kid.” He moved the huge sheet cake closer before he picked it up. “Someday that’ll be a comfort.”
    Rayne frowned as she stuck her hands into her back pockets. “Maybe, but right now, it’s a pain in the butt, always being the baby.”
    He laughed, pausing to give his sister a one-arm hug. “Like you were ever a baby. You were born old, Rayne. And then you made Dad that way.”
    Her eyes took on the same twinkle he’d seen in his father’s. The two were more alike than either wanted to admit.
    “It’s a damn dirty job, but someone had to do it,” she cracked.
    Ilene stuck her head in the doorway in time to catch the exchange. Seeing him with his family was showing her a side to Clay she had no idea existed. He could be warm and loving under the right conditions. The conditions just hadn’t included her, she thought ruefully. At least, not for long.
    “Need any help?” she offered.
    “I’ve got it under control,” Clay told her. He picked up the heavy cake. It could probably be a meal all by itself, if you were given to eating sweets exclusively, he thought. “But you can handle the candles and the matches if you want.” He nodded at the items on the table.
    Ilene picked up the box of small blue candles, Rayne’s favorite color, and the book of matches that only