Cutting Loose. Susan Andersen

with Elvis.”

      “Except this legend actually has the potential to be brought back to life.”

      She inspected the worn early-twentieth-century black-and-white harlequin tiles on the floor and the seventies-era avocado appliances. “It’s definitely going to need work to revive it, though.” She headed for the doorway leading into the rest of the house.

      “Hey, wait a minute.” He charged after her, only to discover her disappearing into the dining room across the hall. She was already thumbing notes into her BlackBerry as he entered the room behind her.

      “Whoever put that scalloping around the windows ought to be shot,” she said. “This place has beautiful old bones and they’ve dressed it up in tacky froufrous.”

      “The entire house is full of crap like that,” he agreed.

      “May I help you?” inquired a voice behind them, in a tone that suggested they better have a damn good reason for being here.

      Swallowing a curse, Dev slowly turned, already knowing who he’d see.

      Sure enough, Jane stood in the doorway, clad in a pair of black leggings beneath a short, high-necked, black-and-brown tunic. That in turn was layered beneath a skinny black sweater with its sleeves shoved up and its tails looped into a loose knot beneath her round little A cups.

      Dark, concealing clothing seemed to be her signature-except on her feet again. This time she wore a pair of yellow velvet slippers sporting extravagant puffs of marabou. They were incongruously cheerful-the frown furrowing her slender brows looked more at home than they did.

      “Oh. It’s you,” she said without enthusiasm when she recognized him. “I heard voices and…”

      Cutting herself off, she shook her head. “Never mind.” She glanced at Hannah, who hadn’t stepped foot outside the door a day in her life since she turned thirteen without her makeup and clothing set on stun, then looked back at him again. Her frown, which had started to lessen, settled firmly back in place. “For heaven’s sake. Are you bringing your girlfriends here now?”

      “Hell, yeah.” Pissed that she always jumped to the worst possible conclusion when it came to him, he crossed the space separating them and didn’t stop until they stood toe-to-toe. Without her usual high heels she wasn’t nearly as tall as he’d believed her to be.

      The observation had squat to do with the topic at hand, however, and he shoved it aside. “Han here is hot for old houses, so I’m just giving her a quick tour of the first floor to warm her up before we go upstairs to pull the shades down and rip off a piece. You got a problem with that, Legs?”

      “In my house, on my dollar?” Eyes glowing bluer than natural-gas-fed flames, she held her ground, not the least bit intimidated by his proximity. “Yes. I guess you could say I have a problem. And that’s aside from your date’s poor taste in men.”

      Hannah laughed. “She’s got you there, boyo.” Stepping forward, she thrust her hand out at Jane, forcing him to back up. “I’m Hannah. Dev’s sister.”

      “Meet Jane Kaplinski, Han,” he said sardonically. “Resident conclusion jumper.”

      “Oh.” Hot color flowed beneath Jane’s fine-grained skin. “Oh, crap. My apologies.”

      He noticed her request for forgiveness was directed solely at Hannah, whom Jane checked out thoroughly as they shook hands.

      “You don’t look anything alike,” she said. As if that was a defensible excuse.

      “I know,” Hannah said cheerfully, tossing back her dark wavy hair. “Finn and Bren and Maureen and I take after Da’s side of the family. David and Dev take after Mom’s, except David got light brown hair. Kate’s a blend. She has Dev’s coloring but looks more like…well, no one, really. Da says the postman, but he’s just pulling our legs.”

      “We think,” he added.

      Jane, as usual, missed the humor entirely. She stared at Hannah unblinkingly. “You have six siblings?”

      “She can count,” he marveled.

      Hannah jabbed her elbow into his ribs. “Yep. What can I say? We’re both Irish and Catholic. That’s pretty well synonymous with big family.”

      “I’m an only child,” Jane replied. “And my two best friends are, as well, so I can’t even imagine growing up with that many brothers and sisters. Wow.” She glanced back and forth between the two of them. “That must have been…”

      When she hesitated as if at a loss for words, Hannah supplied, “Kinda loud, kinda crazy.”

      “Completely lacking in privacy,” he contributed. “Not to mention intrusive as hell.” He hadn’t dropped out of the UDub and set sail for Europe at the tender age of nineteen for nothing.

      “Oh, no.” Jane shook her head. “I was going to say nice. It must have been really comforting-you know?-to have all that built-in support.”

      He snorted. “Boy, you are an only child if you believe that.” He for one had been tired of all the noise and drama of big-family life, where everyone and his brother knew his business. He’d just wanted to go somewhere where he would be judged strictly on his own merits and not compared for once in his life to his brothers or to his family as a whole.

      “Shut up, Dev.” Hannah narrowed her eyes at him. “You might wanna note you’re the only one who ran away from home. The rest of us actually do find family support comforting.”

      “Ran away, Han? You might want to dial down the melodrama a notch.” He hadn’t run; he’d judiciously removed himself from a situation that had a bad habit of making him feel constantly at odds with his family.

      Hannah made a derisive you-are-so-full-of-it-I’m-amazed-your-eyes-aren’t-brown noise in her throat.

      Refusing to get into this with her again, he shrugged and leveled his attention on Jane. Hell, she’d brought the subject up in the first place and was probably just jerking their chain with that whole must be nice bullshit-no doubt just to piss him off.

      Except…

      She appeared totally sincere. In fact she looked all sort of soft and wistful-eyed, as if they lived some sort of perfect existence. And he didn’t like it one damn bit.

      The funny tug it caused deep down in his gut bugged the hell out of him.

      “What are you looking at?” she demanded.

      Her irritated tone chopped the funny feeling in two and, with a mental Thank you, sweetheart, he shot her his best Son of Satan grin. “You, short stuff. I was just thinking you look like a little girl with her nose pressed up against the candy-store window.”

      “I look nothing of the sort!” She took an incensed step toward him, her chin shooting up into what he was starting to consider her default mode. As usual, the sudden movement caused a hank of shiny hair to slide free of her bun and slither down her throat.

      And another of those odd feelings hit him, this time making his palms itch.

      His innate common sense blown to hell, he took a Mother-May-I-worthy giant step closer, bringing them once more mere inches from each other. Whipping a hand out, he liberated the two combs still holding together the remainder of her crooked topknot.

      “Hey!” She made a grab for them as her hair tumbled free. “Give those back!”

      Dev tossed the combs into the largest of a group of leather bowls sitting on a nearby sideboard, then grasped her forearm to prevent her from going after them when she started to muscle her way past him. Why, he couldn’t say, considering he already regretted the impulse that had caused him to muss her up. The dark waterfall of hair slinking over one eye and draping her shoulders gave her an entirely different look.

      One he had a feeling he’d be better off not seeing.

      “Why