Lonergan's Secrets: Expecting Lonergan's Baby / Strictly Lonergan's Business / Satisfying Lonergan's Honour. Maureen Child

him pick through the beans carefully. “I’m perfectly capable of shopping on my own, you know.”

      He glanced at her. “You seem awfully territorial over a handful of green beans.”

      She inhaled sharply and blew the air out in a huff. Yes, she was being territorial. But this was her life he was intruding on. She’d been taking care of Jeremiah for two years and it sort of rubbed her the wrong way to think that he was implying in some way that she hadn’t done a good job of it.

      But then again, maybe getting snippy with the man wasn’t the way to handle things either. “Fine,” she said, congratulating herself on the calm, even tone of her voice. “We can do it together.” Then she reached out and took the bag of beans from him before dumping its contents back into the bin. “And you should know, your grandfather doesn’t like green beans.”

      He frowned, then turned toward her and shrugged again as his frown slowly faded into a half smile. “You’re right. I’d forgotten. My grandmother used to make them for my cousins and I, but Pop never touched ‘em.”

      Maggie smiled, too, and felt a whisper of something almost comfortable spin out between them. “He does like cauliflower,” she suggested, in an attempt to continue the truce.

      “And broccoli, too!” He laughed at the memory, and something dazzling flashed in his eyes, stealing Maggie’s breath.

      “You should do that more often,” she said when she was sure that her voice wouldn’t quiver.

      “What’s that?” he asked, already grabbing up a head of cauliflower and dropping it into a plastic bag.

      “Smile.”

      He dipped his head, looked up at her, then tossed the vegetable into the basket before answering. “I just left Dr. Evan’s office.”

      Maggie walked beside him, picking up a few lemons, a couple of grapefruits and several bunches of green onions. She didn’t speak right away and she knew it was because she was afraid of what Sam was going to say. What he’d found out from the doctor.

      Jeremiah hadn’t spoken much about his sudden illness, and frankly she hadn’t asked for information. Cowardly or not, she simply didn’t want to have to face any dire truths that would have the capacity to break her heart.

      “Aren’t you going to ask what I found out?” He came closer and Maggie could feel the heat of his body reaching out for her.

      She swallowed her own fear, told herself she couldn’t hide from the truth forever and forced herself to nod. “What is it? What’s wrong with him?”

      “Not a clue.”

      “What?”

      “Excuse me.” An overweight woman in a tight flowered dress stared at them both. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to buy some oranges.”

      “Sorry.” Sam frowned again, took Maggie by the arm and used his free hand to guide the limping cart away a few feet. When he stopped, he released her and said, “Doc Evans wouldn’t tell me anything.”

      “Oh, God.” Maggie covered her mouth with her hand and stared up at him as terrifying thoughts wheeled through her mind. If the doctor didn’t want to tell Jeremiah’s grandson what was wrong with him, that could only mean the older man was desperately ill. “That can’t be good. He must not want to worry you.”

      He folded both arms across his chest and thought about that. “Could be the reason, I suppose, but I don’t think so.” Shaking his head, Sam muttered, “No. There’s something going on.”

      “What do you mean?”

      “I mean,” he said, “Jeremiah and Doc Evans are up to something and I want to know what it is.”

      Instantly defensive, Maggie said, “Are you trying to say that Jeremiah’s not sick? Because if you are, that’s ridiculous. He wouldn’t do that.”

      “Maybe,” Sam allowed, but clearly he wasn’t convinced. Maggie reached for him, laying one hand on his forearm and somehow ignoring the sizzle of heat that erupted between them. “Jeremiah is a wonderful man. He would never worry his family unnecessarily. You should know that even better than I do.”

      He glanced down at her hand on his arm and slowly Maggie withdrew it.

      “You could be right,” he said finally. “But I want you to keep an eye out.”

      “You’re asking me to spy on your grandfather?”

      “Spy’s a harsh word.”

      “But appropriate.” Maggie shook her head and stepped out of the way as a tall man squeezed past her to get at the table full of bananas. Sam frowned, took her arm again and pushed the cart farther out of the produce section, away from most of the crowd.

      He glanced around as if to make sure that no one was close enough to overhear them. Then he bent his head toward hers. “I’m not asking you to betray him. I’m only asking you to help me.”

      “Not two hours ago,” she reminded him in a fast whisper, “you agreed that we should keep our distance from each other this summer. Now you’re asking me to work with you against a man who’s been nothing but kind to me.”

      He scraped one hand across his face, then grabbed her upper arms and pulled her close. She sucked in a gulp of air and held it as his face came within a breath of hers. Her heart pounded and she heard the rush of her own blood in her ears. Her gaze dropped to his mouth, then lifted to his eyes again.

      “Things change, Maggie,” he said, his voice low and fast. “And now I’m saying that I need your help. I’m worried about Jeremiah. So are you.” His gaze moved over her face like a caress. He licked his lips, pulled in a breath, then let her go suddenly and took a step back. “The question is, are you willing to work with me to find out what’s going on around here?”

      Five

      Three days later an uneasy truce had been declared. She tried to stay out of Sam’s way and he kept butting into her life. Okay, so the truce was only on her side.

      The man seemed to pop up everywhere. If she was outside gardening, he showed up, leaning casually against the side of the house, watching every move she made. If she was cooking, he found his way to the kitchen, interrogating her on his grandfather’s diet. If she was cleaning, he was close at hand, as though making sure she wasn’t going to steal the family silver or something.

      And at all times she felt his dark gaze on her as she would a touch.

      In fact, the only time she felt as though she wasn’t being watched was the evenings, spent in her own little house. But even then there was no peace. Because her dreams were full of him.

      His dark eyes. His well-shaped mouth, long fingers and leanly muscled body. In dreams he did more than watch her. In dreams he held her, kissed her, tasted her, explored her body with his own and every morning she woke up just a little bit more tense than she’d been the day before.

      Every nerve in her body felt as though it were on fire from the inside. There was a coiled tension within her that made every breath a labor and every heartbeat a victory.

      Up to her elbows in hot, soapy water, Maggie swished the scrubbing sponge over a mixing bowl, rinsed it out, then set it carefully in the drainer. Shaking her head, she yawned, blinked tired eyes and whispered, “It’s only been three days. If this keeps up, by the end of summer I’ll be dead.”

      “What?”

      She jumped, splashing a small wave of hot water onto the front of her pale pink T-shirt. When the adrenaline rush ended, she sighed, glanced down at herself, then lifted her gaze to Sam, standing in the doorway. “You have got to stop sneaking up on me.”

      A brief half smile curved one corner of his mouth, then was gone before she could get a good look at it. “You would