Under The Millionaire's Influence. Catherine Mann

way you wield that hot glue gun, it’s no wonder you sleep alone. Men must be hitting the floor in terror.”

      Claire’s words rattled around in Starr’s head with a little too much accuracy. Nothing like a sister—even the foster sort—to put you in your place. Starr spread her gift bags, glitter and shells along the kitchen butcher block as she put together the tissue paper. At least the RV crew had decided to sleep in today and give her a couple extra hours to gather her thoughts after seeing David had rocked her balance.

      She simply wanted a half hour of peace to pull herself together. Tough to find with such a perfect contrasting view of the three rickety RVs and David’s Lexus right there, reminding her of so many painful moments in her past.

      But damn it, she would put a time stamp on that segment of her life because her days of romance with David had expired long ago.

      She stared out the open window at the three parked vehicles. Her sister worked by her side decorating a cake, while two part-time help gals took care of the remaining breakfast crowd. The gentle ocean breeze ruffling the lace curtains may have cooled the steamy kitchen, but it did nothing to cool the steam curling inside her after a simple encounter with David.

      She might well need more than a half hour.

      Starr globbed another dollop of oozing glue on the magenta bag. “I imagine you’ve waited a whole year for that payback line just because I teased you about the way you whacked around a swizzle stick when you were mad at Vic.”

      Her sister had fought hard against falling in love, even contemplating single motherhood, until finally the burly veterinarian had won her over.

      Earth-mother-type Claire swooped her cake-frosting spatula through the air. “Aha! So you are mad at a man.”

      Had she really just jumped into that net because she was busy thinking of her sister’s tangled love life from last year? “Don’t you have a baby to nurse?”

      The multicolored sling around Claire’s neck held the infant snuggled securely to her chest. “Little Libby is snoozing away, happy and fully fed.”

      No surprise Claire managed yet another addition to her life with ease. Her unflappable, organized sister always had. Even her silky blond hair cooperated to make a smooth look along with the clean lines of her conservative clothes. Claire would never put together mismatched designer-fashion finds Starr liked to scoop up at the Salvation Army. But then Starr couldn’t quite stifle the colors in her wardrobe any more than she could quiet her bright artwork.

      Claire gently patted her baby girl’s bottom. Motherhood suited her well. She’d obviously taken on all the traits of their foster mother.

      Aunt Libby had been an eccentric—amazing—woman. Having lost her fiancé in the Korean War, she’d never married, instead devoting her life to taking in foster daughters. Countless foster girls had channeled through her antebellum home, money in short supply, love in abundance. Most had either returned to their homes or found new adoptive parents. All but three had left—herself, Claire and Ashley, who’d just graduated from college with her accounting degree. Her graduation being the reason for their flurry of preparations today, to put together a surprise party.

      Their shy younger sister would work herself into a tizz if she had time to think of an impending celebration, so they’d opted for low-key festivities as a surprise party. Ashley deserved to have her accomplishments lauded. A whiz kid, she’d been keeping the Beachcombers’ books since the doors had opened two years ago.

      Starr brandished her hot glue gun, which of course made her think of all the times she’d seen David’s gun tucked in a shoulder harness. So often she thought of the glamour of his world travel, but the danger sent a sliver of…something, something she didn’t want to consider overlong because it traveled up her spine to sting her eyes. “Okay, so I’m armed and fearsome. Why does that have anything to do with a man?”

      Claire brandished her own decorator gun, swirling Congratulations, Ashley across the cake festooned with pink roses. “It’s the way you’re wielding it, big hot globs that don’t allow for anything to slip away.”

      So? “And that tells you what?”

      “The same thing you’ve always wanted where David Reis is concerned.” Claire set her frosting aside and pinned her sister with her ever-wise older gaze. “You want to glue his wandering feet to the ground.”

      “Or glue his arrogant mouth shut.” Now that called for a huge blob.

      Claire tapped Starr’s toe with her flip-flop-shod foot. “But then he wouldn’t be as fun to kiss.”

      Starr couldn’t help but shiver in agreement at that. “You’re a wicked woman.”

      “I’ll plead the fifth.” She winked as she topped off another cabbage rose on the cake. “How long is he in town this time?”

      “I didn’t ask.” But yeah, she wanted to know. Not wise.

      “You’re kidding.”

      “His mother was there at first, and then my, uh—” she swallowed hard “—relatives could have stepped out at any second.”

      Claire’s hand fell on her shoulder. Her sister always did try to mother the world. “Speaking of which, why are they here?”

      “I honestly don’t know.” Starr eased out from under the comforting hand that could too easily make her go all emotional when she needed to hold herself together more than ever. She had genetics working against her when it came to being overly dramatic. It was one of the things that used to drive David nuts. “I haven’t asked them yet, but I promise I’ll get to it right away. I won’t let them interfere with business.”

      “I’m not concerned about that, honey, I’m worried about you.” She gripped Starr’s shoulders again and turned her back around. “I don’t want them to take advantage of you.”

      God, the truth still hurt because undoubtedly they wouldn’t have shown up for any other reason. Bracing herself to hold on tight to her emotions, Starr wrapped her arms around her sister in an awkward hug, the snoozing baby between them.

      Claire patted her back. “We’re a team, sister. Don’t ever forget it. You don’t have to take them on alone. Say the word and I’ll walk over with you.”

      Sniffling in spite of her best intentions, Starr leaned back and flicked her hair over her shoulder. “Thanks, but I’m a tough cookie in case you haven’t noticed. I have my killer glue gun, after all.” Bravado in place, she retrieved her gun and her resolve.

      And darned if one of those RVs didn’t start moving with the first signs of life from inside, shock absorbers obviously having long ago given up the ghost.

      Ghosts.

      She could talk about bravery and guns and time stamps all she wanted, but it would take a lot of stamping to eradicate all the ghosts clamoring around in her head.

      David slid his arms through his suit jacket on his way out the front door. He needed to report in and sign leave papers to take the time off to make sure all was well with his mother’s health.

      And to figure out what the hell was going on with Starr’s family.

      Speaking of Starr, the gorgeous spitfire came charging down the restaurant back steps now. He’d planned to have a “discussion” with her parents before she saw them, but apparently he hadn’t dressed fast enough. Now things would be more complicated. Par for the course around Starr since the first day he’d done a double take, realizing his impish neighbor had grown into a bombshell.

      He should have had the conversation with her earlier, but the risk had seemed too high given they were both half-dressed. He’d been too aware of her in that whispery thin T-shirt while he’d stood there only halfway finished dressing himself. Too easily memories from a year ago slid through his mind, how she’d sat on the edge of the tub and watched him shave. Not long after, he’d lifted her onto the sink and plunged