The Mccaffertys: Slade. Lisa Jackson

what he referred to as the McCafferty Hall of Shame where photos of the family were mounted. With cool disinterest Jamie’s eyes skimmed pictures of Thorne in his football uniform, Randi going to the prom, Matt on a bucking bronco and Slade skiing downhill as if the devil were on his tail. Jamie didn’t react, just walked smartly into the dining room.

      “Hi,” she said. “You all probably know this, but I figured I’d better get the formal introductions over. I’m Jamie Parsons with Jansen, Monteith and Stone.” Thorne had some trouble scrambling to his feet as one of his legs was in a brace, but Matt reached forward to shake her hand. Slade made quick introductions. “All right,” she said, offering them each a smile that Slade was certain she’d practiced a thousand times in front of a mirror, “let’s get started.”

      Everyone settled into a chair. Jamie flipped open her briefcase and distributed copies of legal documents. “The way I understand it is that Matt—” she pinned the middle McCafferty brother in her gaze “—wants to sell his place north of Missoula on contract to Michael Kavanaugh, his neighbor. He then wants to buy the two of you—” she motioned to Slade and Thorne “—out, so that he’ll own half of this place and, Randi, you’ll own the other half.”

      “That’s right,” Matt confirmed.

      “Matt’s agreed to run the ranch,” Randi contributed. “Then he…well, he and Kelly, since they’re going to be married soon…can live here.”

      “What about you?” Thorne asked, his brows beetling.

      Randi shook her head and flipped a palm toward the ceiling. “I do have a life in Seattle, you know.”

      Thorne’s scowl deepened. “Yeah, I do know. But until we’re certain you’re safe, I don’t want you going anywhere. Not until we figure out who’s been trying to kill you and he’s safely behind bars.”

      With a smile that dared her oldest brother to try to tell her what to do, she arched a dark brow. “I’m not arguing about it now, okay? I think Ms. Parsons has business here and she’d like to get down to it.”

      “Jamie. Let’s keep this casual.”

      Slade stiffened.

      “We’re all from around here, so there’s no reason to be formal,” Jamie said coolly. “Okay, you’ve all got a copy of the paperwork, so let’s go over it.”

      Slade tried not to notice the slope of her jaw, or the way she flashed a smile or how her eyebrows knitted in concentration as she read through the documents. What had happened between them was ancient history. Ancient.

      Besides, he didn’t like lawyers. Any of ’em. He reached into his shirt pocket, his fingers searching for a nonexistent pack of cigarettes. He was trying to cut down and had left his smokes in his truck. Not that anyone would let him light up in here anyway.

      Nicole brought in a tray of coffee, tea and cinnamon cookies, but Jamie seemed to barely notice. The baby started to fuss and she glanced at J.R. for just a second, her eyes turning wistful for the barest of moments before she became all business again.

      Apologizing in Spanish and English, Juanita bustled in. Dark eyes flashed with pride as she fixated on the baby. “Dios, little man, you are a loud one.” Expertly she plucked the infant from Randi’s arms. “He is hungry, sí?”

      “Big time,” Randi said, starting to climb to her feet.

      “Sit, sit…you have business.” Juanita waved Randi back into her chair. “I’ll see to him.” Before Randi could protest, Juanita turned on her heel and, cradling the baby close, swept out of the room.

      Jamie barely broke stride. “Let’s look at page two…”

      A professional attorney through and through, Slade thought, staring at her. Where was the wild, rebellious girl he remembered? The one who had turned his head and made him, for a few weeks, question what he wanted? The girl in tattered jeans who had, behind her grandmother’s back, drunk, smoked and gone to a tattoo parlor, only to be kicked out before the deed was done as she was underage? If Slade’s recollection was right, Jamie had planned to have a small butterfly etched into one smooth shoulder.

      Glancing at the thick sheaf of neatly typed pages in front of him Slade wondered if Jamie, once she’d finally turned eighteen, had ever gone back for the body art? Or had her transformation into this all-business woman already begun? Who was she these days? Just another corporate attorney with her hair pulled harshly away from her face, her nails polished, her smile forced? Where was the free spirit who had attracted him so many years ago? Where was the rebellious creature who could spit as well as any boy, swear a blue streak, and ride bareback under the stars without a second’s hesitation? He watched her through eyes at half mast and hardly caught a glimmer of the girl she’d once been. For today, at least, she was all business—an automaton spewing legal jargon.

      Every once in a while one of the brothers or Randi asked a question. Jamie always had an answer.

      “I’ll want to put my fiancée’s name on the deed,” Matt said, his dark eyes thoughtful.

      “So you’re getting married.” Jamie scribbled a quick note on her copy of the documents. “When?”

      “Between Christmas and New Year’s. I tried to talk her into eloping, but her family had a fit. As it is, it’s pretty short notice.”

      Jamie lifted an arched brow. “So another McCafferty bachelor bites the dust.”

      “Ouch,” Thorne said, but one side of his mouth curved upward. “That just leaves Slade.”

      For a second the Ice Woman seemed to melt. Her hazel eyes found his. A dozen questions lurked therein. “I thought you were married.”

      “Never,” he replied. Seated low on his spine, sipping coffee, he stared straight into those incredible eyes.

      “But…I mean…” She seemed confused, then quickly shoved whatever she was thinking out of her mind and pulled her corporate self together. “Not that it matters. So…” She swung her head toward Matt who was seated at the head of the table near the china closet. “What’s your fiancée’s name?”

      “Kelly Dillinger, but it will be McCafferty by the end of the month.”

      “She’s the daughter of Eva Dillinger, who was our father’s secretary.” Thorne’s mouth turned down and Slade’s stomach twisted at the thought of his old man. He missed him, true, but the guy had been a number-one bastard most of Slade’s life. “The deal is this. Dad reneged on paying Eva the retirement that he’d promised her and so we—” he motioned to include his brothers and sister “—through the trust, decided to make it good. Your firm handles the disbursements.”

      Jamie gave a quick nod as if she suddenly remembered. “I’ve got the papers on the trust with me,” she said, riffling through her briefcase and withdrawing another thick file.

      “Good.” Thorne nodded.

      “But Kelly’s name needs to be on the deed to the ranch,” Matt insisted.

      “Duly noted.” Jamie penned a reminder on the first page of the contract allowing Matt to buy out his brothers. “I’ll see that she’s included in the final draft, then she’ll have to sign, along with the rest of you, and Mr. Kavanaugh. I’ll leave you each a copy of what I’ve drawn up and you can peruse everything more closely. If you all agree, I’ll print out final copies and we’ll sign.”

      “Sounds good.” Matt picked up his set of papers as Jamie straightened her pile and thumped it on the table. With a well-practiced smile that didn’t light her eyes, she glanced at each McCafferty sibling before sliding all the documents into her briefcase.

      So rehearsed, so professional, so un-Jamie Parsons. At least the Jamie he remembered. As he observed her, Slade wondered what it would take to catch a glimpse of the girl hiding beneath the neatly pressed jacket and skirt.

      “So…Matt,