And Baby Makes Four. Mary Forbes J.

      “We do.”

      “Fine. I’ll see you later.”

      Before she could turn back down the path, he asked, “Ms. O’Brien is your sister?”

      “For thirty-four years. Argh—” Lee massaged the spot between her eyes. “She’ll kill me if you reveal that detail.”

      “I’ll be sure to tape my mouth shut.” Again, she heard a note of humor as he glanced toward the Victorian. And abruptly, a thought hit. Maybe she’d read him wrong. Maybe it wasn’t her he was interested in, but Kat.

      And why not? a voice whispered. Of the three sisters, Kat was the nurturer, the earth mother. The intermediary Lee and Addie always came to for advice when life’s inroads got rough.

      “Just for the record,” Lee pointed out. “Kat doesn’t gossip. Nor would she have convinced me to bother you tonight—” Now, why tell him that, Lee? “—except I bugged her with some questions.” Oh, great word choice.

      “About me?” His voice lowered to Vin Diesel deepness.

      “For insurance purposes.”

      “That standard for all your passengers?”

      He had her there. “Look,” she said, trembling from the cool breeze. “I’ll be honest. Your—”

      “You’re cold,” he interrupted, coming down the steps, shrugging from his vest. “Why don’t you come inside for a minute?”

      Go inside that little cabin? Where his big frame would swallow every molecule of air? Where she’d wander close enough to smell the soap on his skin? No thanks.

      Before Lee could think it through, he’d wrapped the vest, infused with his warmth and scent, around her shoulders.

      “I’m fine,” she said, back-stepping so they weren’t so close, so she couldn’t feel his breath on her forehead. “Besides, I need to get back to my sister.”

      He dropped his hands from the panels of the vest where he’d pulled them closed over her breasts. “I don’t bite, Lee,” he said softly.

      “Maybe not,” she replied, hoping to inject some clout into her tone because she wanted nothing more than to grab his face between her hands. “But you have to admit, your nightly vigil down at the docks was downright spooky. What was I to think? No, let me rephrase that. What were you thinking? A man with your obvious intelligence and a lawyer to boot should know better than to stand there staring at a woman three nights in a row, especially when she’s by herself.”

      Huffing a breath, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “My apologies. You’re right. I wasn’t thinking. All that mattered, still matters, is my son, Ms. Tait. He’s my first priority. Everything else falls by the wayside.”

      “Well.” Her irritation faded upon his reference to the child. “At least we have that cleared up.” She hesitated. “I understand you bought Eve Riley’s old farm and that you’re renovating the house.” Kat had let that tidbit drop at dinner.

      “I did and am.” He smiled, a flash of white in the dark. “This for insurance purposes, too?”

      “Absolutely,” she quipped. “Especially when you don’t look like any farmer I know.”

      She thought he might chuckle, but instead his gaze took in the dark woods behind her. “I’m a defense attorney.”

      Which meant he litigated for the underdog or the criminal. Yet it didn’t explain why he’d relocated his child in the middle of the school term—and on an island—while he continued to work on the mainland, a seemingly unfair decision. More so, where was the boy’s mother? Was she the second Matteo in the business card’s “Matteo and Matteo”?

      “Is your wife a lawyer, too?”

      His eyes dulled. “No.”

      “Will she be joining—”

      “No.”

      Lee shivered. The way he said that one word…. “I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s none of my business.”

      He stood frozen, quiet—which told her more than she had a right to know. Rogan Matteo was the sole guardian of his son. The reasons weren’t important, but they were enough to stay on her guard. Daddy role models were not a favored part of her life. Her father had left Charmaine when Lee was a toddler. Two decades later, her own marriage had dissolved in a raw divorce after her inability to conceive—and her ex’s infidelity.

      “See you in a week.” She spun around.

      “Lee, wait. I need you to fly me tomorrow.”

      “Tomorrow? I thought you were on vacation.” Again, according to Kat.

      “I am, but I just found out I’ll need to be in Renton for a 9:00 a.m. meeting. I can take the afternoon ferry back if you’re not available.”

      She mulled over her options. “Fine. I’m flying my brother-in-law to Renton at one, I can fly you back then. That time frame work for you?”

      “Yes, and thank you. See you at eight-fifteen?”

      “Till then.” She shrugged out of his vest, reluctant to let go of his scent. Get a grip, Lee. “Goodbye, Mr. Matteo.”

      “Rogan,” he corrected, taking the garment she shoved into his hand. “And goodnight, Lee.”

      She hurried down the path, the timbre of his voice lingering in her ear. The prickle in her fingers sharpened.

      Tomorrow, she’d fly him over, and afterward find an excuse to boot him off her plane and out of her life.

      Determined, she said goodbye to Kat and Blake, and drove home. Two hours later, Rogan Matteo’s mellow Southern accent continued to whisper across her skin.

      He slept in spurts, getting out of bed when dawn edged a line of pink onto the horizon. Today he would be climbing into a plane with a woman pilot. A woman whose moves attracted him, whose hair framed her face in a way that was sexy as hell.

      A woman with whom he’d spend twenty minutes flying across ocean water. Not a lake and not in the mountains, he reasoned. It’s not the same geography Sophie and Darby flew over.

      His heart bounced in his chest. Although the radiant heating had clicked on at 5:00 a.m. and the cabin was warming, he felt a chill. Shoving away visions of confined cockpits, he checked on Danny across the hall. Curled in a ball, blankets cocooned around his small body, his son slumbered the sleep of the innocent.

      Rogan touched the boy’s shoulder, felt its fragility, and a surge of protection blew through him. I’ll always be here for you, son. I won’t let you down.

      Leaving the boy to sleep for another couple of hours, he went to shower. Minutes later, he dressed, then headed for the kitchen to pour cereal into a pair of thick, ceramic bowls.

      By eight o’clock, briefcase in hand, he locked up the cabin and ushered Danny out to the truck.

      “You know that Mrs. Huddleston will be taking you to school this morning, right, buddy?” Rogan stood in the open door of the rear passenger seat and waited for his son to buckle up. He hated the thought of dropping Danny at the old lady’s house this one time, but she lived across from the school, and she’d been a caretaker of kids for years. Rogan had done an extensive check in case he needed her assistance when he had to leave before the school’s doors opened. As he did today.

      Dan’s blond hair fell into his eyes.

      “Tomorrow we’ll get you a haircut,” Rogan continued.

      “Don’t wanna.”

      “Ah. You want to look like a rock star,” he cajoled, hoping to draw a smile from his son as he tugged the collar of the boy’s red jacket from the back of his thin neck. Danny had been surly