A Sinclair Homecoming (The Sinclairs of Alaska) Page 8

  “Of course,” he said, bobbing a nod and grabbing his coat, but Mona wasn’t too happy to lose her companion and abruptly stood, her hands going to her hips in an annoyed fashion.

  “Hey, hold on now,” Mona said, glaring at Morgan. “Just because you’re in a pissy mood doesn’t mean you have to come in and rain on my parade. Wade and I were having a wonderful conversation before you busted in and went all mean face on us. Weren’t we?” She looked at Wade for confirmation, then added, “Don’t mind my sister. She can be a giant wet blanket at times.”

  A wet blanket? Oh, that girl had balls. “Excuse me, I’m not in the mood for your shenanigans, Mona. I’m tired and I just want to go to bed.”

  “I think Morgan is right. We should call it a night,” Wade said, going to the door in spite of Mona’s protests.

  Morgan spared him the awkward goodbyes. “I’m sorry, this must be very uncomfortable for you,” she allowed. “But my sister has a bad habit of bringing home people she shouldn’t.”

  Mona gasped, offended. “Okay, now you’re just being a jerk. What are you talking about? How was I supposed to know that Wade was your Wade?”

  “Whoa,” Wade exclaimed, shifting his gaze from one woman to the other. “I’m no one’s Wade. I think there’s some confusion here.”

  “Settle down. It’s just a saying. I didn’t know that you were the one my sister was talking about the other night.”

  “You’ve been talking about my mother’s case?” He scowled, immediately on guard. “Isn’t that a breach of patient confidentiality?”

  “Please, nothing was said that was a breach of anyone’s confidentiality.” Morgan tried to assure Wade but she could see a storm gathering behind his eyes. Not that she blamed him; if she thought someone was talking about her personal business, she’d be pretty upset, too. Damn you, Mona, for making a mess of things. Maybe she’d erred in judgment in the small details she’d shared with Mona the other day. She worried her bottom lip, concerned but ultimately, just eager to put a pin in this day. “Let’s just put an end to this evening and start fresh in the morning. Everything will look better with the rise of a new day.”

  Mona rolled her eyes. “There you go, my sister’s solution to everything.” She turned to Wade and said, “Come on, we can go back to my place, my real place. I guess you figured out that this is my sister’s house.”

  But Wade wasn’t about to do that. “Sorry, I think this has gotten a little too uncomfortable for my tastes.” Wade put his hand on the doorknob but stopped as if he wanted to apologize or comment but in the end he just left with a chagrined expression. As soon as the door closed behind him Mona whirled on her sister.

  “What the hell? Why did you do that? I really liked him. You’re the world’s most effective chastity belt.”

  “Don’t start with me. For one, there’s a conflict of interest. Two, there is no way in hell you need to be messing around with Wade Sinclair. I think the poor man has enough problems without you entering into the mix.”

  Mona gasped, outraged. “Unbelievable. My own sister—stabbing me in the back. Nice. And for your information there is no conflict of interest—not for me. He’s the first guy that I’ve felt a real connection with and then you come along and stomp on it. Who cares if he’s the son of one of your clients? Big deal. In a small town that’s bound to happen at some point. Besides, did you see the way that man was looking at me like I was a cheesecake and he was coming off a sugar withdrawal? Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had a man look at me like that?”

  It was Morgan’s turn to groan. “I’m not going to waste time debating your love life. Bottom line is, back off. Did you see how uncomfortable he was? Now I’ll have to work twice as hard to gain his confidence because of this situation. You just made my job harder, as if it wasn’t hard enough as it is. I really don’t appreciate this, Mona. Sometimes you’re so incredibly selfish.”

  “Ugh. You sound just like Mom. And here I thought you would always have my back.”

  “Don’t you pull that with me. I do have your back. But it seems to be a one-way street with you. What happened to calling me when you plan to use my house? What happened to that courtesy?”

  Mona shrugged as if it couldn’t have been helped. “It happened on the fly. He walked into my gallery and it was like kismet. We connected on this level that defies explanation and of course, I can’t take him back to my place because it’s smaller than a closet. And besides, why are you home so early? You were supposed to be on a date with George.”

  Morgan threw her hands up. “I was on a date with George! And by the end of it I wanted to run screaming from the restaurant. We don’t have anything in common, something that I knew already, and the dinner was excruciating for both of us. So I came home early. I was looking forward to a glass of wine and a quiet evening at home. And instead I got this.”

  “Well, sorry! How was I supposed to know that you were going to have such a crappy time? And speaking of selfish, you haven’t even asked me how my second night went.”

  Morgan pinched the bridge of her nose, just wanting to be done with this conversation and this night. But one look at her sister’s disappointed expression and she caved. “All right, I’ll bite. How did the second showing go?”

  Mona sniffed as if only mildly mollified. “Marginally better. Tonight had a different crowd and there were actually a few people who seemed interested in purchasing a few of my more expensive prints.”

  Hallelujah. Morgan was beginning to think that Mona would never make a living from any of her art. “Well, that’s good, I suppose.”

  “Yeah, it is. Felt good, actually. It kind of made up for some of the other opinions that were voiced.”

  “Let me guess. You overheard some people saying they didn’t like it.”

  “Worse. One guy actually called my art confusing and mildly disturbing.”

  Morgan shrugged, yawning again. “Well, I don’t know if that’s bad. Picasso’s art makes me feel that way and he’s a classic so maybe you’re in good company.”

  “Aww, you’re sweet. But you’re still not off the hook for ruining my date with Wade.”

  “It wasn’t a date,” Morgan corrected her as she walked into the kitchen to grab the wine. “That was a booty call that I interrupted and I’m glad.”

  “Booty call? Now that’s just rude. Maybe he was my soul mate.”

  Morgan poured herself a glass of wine and took a deep swallow before answering. “He was not your soul mate,” she said, finding the very idea absurd. “Any man you would bring home on the spur of the moment is not your soul mate. That’s a booty call.” To be honest, she hated that notion, too. Morgan contemplated her internal knee-jerk reaction at the thought and found it troubling. Did she feel this way because of the professional ramifications or something far more personal?

  Mona poured herself another glass of wine, as always, making herself completely at home, completely oblivious to Morgan’s troubled silence. “Okay, Miss Smarty-Pants, how exactly do you recognize a soul mate? It’s not like they walk around wearing name badges.”

  Morgan was really the last person to counsel anyone on appropriate relationships but she had to keep up the pretense with her sister. She couldn’t bear to devastate Mona’s opinion of David, even if it was pure fiction. “Well, your soul mate is someone who is loyal, kind, generous with his time and heart and he doesn’t sleep with you on the first date.”

  “Your version of a soul mate is boring. I think your soul mate is someone who sets your soul on fire. Someone who ignites your blood and makes you hunger for something that only they can provide.” Mona’s eyes lit up with her own description, falling in love with an ideal and certainly not reality.

  Morgan wished things happened like that. In real life, it was hardly that explosive or earth shattering. “I think you missed your calling
. Maybe you shouldn’t be painting but writing because this stuff is golden. Talk about fairy tales. I hate to break it to you but love is not all hearts and rainbows every second of the day. Sometimes love sucks.”

  “How can you say that? You and David had a love affair. I’ve never seen anyone more in love with you than David. When you were in a room, his eyes never left you. It was as if he was consumed by you. I want that kind of love.”

  “No, you don’t,” Morgan said before she could stop herself. She closed her eyes, realizing she’d made a mistake. Trying to recover, she smiled and said, “You’re right. Everyone’s experience with love is different. And David was very attentive,” Morgan added, choosing her words carefully. “I hope you meet someone who does all those things for you, but I just don’t want you to be pining for something that might be unrealistic. That’s all I’m saying.”

  Mona sighed, sipping her wine. “I guess.” A moment of silence passed between them, and then Mona said, “So tell me your real opinion of Wade Sinclair...he’s handsome, right?”

  “I suppose,” she answered carefully. Morgan had shut off that part of herself a long time ago and she was afraid what would happen if the switch were flipped. But there was something about Wade Sinclair that she found intriguing. There was a stoic strength about him that drew her with a glance and she sensed a great passion behind his eyes, and someday the right woman would benefit from it. But that woman wasn’t her. “I really don’t look at my clients that way, or the sons of my clients. It’s unethical.” That much was true, except the rules she set for herself seemed to bend when Wade was concerned. She shouldn’t notice or care how handsome he was—but she did. However, she’d chew off her own hand before she admitted that fact to Mona.

  “You and the rules. Haven’t you ever just wanted to break the rules? I mean, come on, life isn’t about coloring inside the lines every single day. Besides, that guy is hot. He has this buttoned-down look but when he loosens up he’s really sexy with an utterly charming smile. Did you know he has a dimple?”

  She was a sucker for dimples. Not that it mattered that Wade had a dimple. “Really? Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but Wade isn’t going to be sticking around for long. Unless you want to split Alaska and go back to California where he lives, it’s an ill-fated venture.”

  Mona wrinkled her nose. “California? Yuck. Can’t stand that place.”

  “To be fair, you had one bad experience. Actually, California would probably suit you very well. I’ve heard Berkeley is very friendly to artists.”

  “Yeah, but then I wouldn’t really stand out then, would I? I would just be one more quirky artist running around Berkeley. Here, everyone knows who I am—I’m Mona, the artist. And I like being a big fish in a small pond. I get more dinner dates that way.”

  “Mona, you’re incorrigible.”

  “No, I think the word you’re searching for is adorable.”

  Morgan couldn’t help but laugh. She couldn’t stay mad at Mona, no matter what she did. “Are you staying here tonight or are you borrowing one of my cars to go home, seeing as your ride left without you?”

  “I think I’ll just stay in the guest bedroom tonight. I’m out of wood for the woodstove.”

  “Ahh, and the truth comes out.”

  “Well, that definitely played a part. It’s hard to get busy when your teeth are chattering.”

  “Fine, you can stay. But I have to leave early in the morning. If you make breakfast in the kitchen please clean up your mess. The last time you left splattered eggs everywhere and it took me all night to scrape it off.”

  “Are you really mad at me for bringing Wade here?” Mona asked.

  “No. But I don’t want you to date him, okay?”

  “Are you attracted to him?” Mona asked, shocking her with the sudden question. “I mean, I would be willing to step aside if you had your eye on him. You deserve a little fun. I mean, Wade looks like he could boogie down, if you know what I mean.”

  Morgan actually blushed and uttered a tiny laugh at Mona’s assessment. “I have no doubt Wade can handle himself in the bedroom...but no, he’s not my type.”

  “Really? Then what is your type?” Mona asked, mildly confused. “You haven’t dated anyone since David died. Have you really been celibate for the past three years? I would die. Maybe I ought to buy you a vibrator for Christmas so you don’t grow cobwebs down there.”

  “Mona! That’s enough already. Jeez, good night.” She rinsed her wineglass and put it in the dishwasher, gesturing for Mona to do the same when she was finished, and headed off to bed.

  But as she washed her face and applied her facial cream, her thoughts stubbornly refused to settle and it was all Mona’s fault. Wade was a very attractive man. The idea of him in her bedroom, pressed up against her in a not-so-professional manner made her breath hitch. An unfamiliar tension curled inside her and she spent a minute organizing her vanity until everything was exactly in its place but the tension remained. Then she pulled a faint memory from her mental cache and startled when she realized what she was feeling.

  Attraction.

  Sexual attraction.

  She closed her eyes and allowed a tiny bit of fantasy to play out in her head: Wade pushing her up against the wall, his tall, firm body aligning with hers perfectly, his tongue tangling with hers until she was left writhing with need. Her eyes popped open and she pressed a hand to her forehead, wiping away the sudden beads of moisture. She squeezed her thighs together to ease the aching emptiness and when that didn’t help, she abruptly rose with a tiny cry of frustration and turned off the light, determined to go to sleep and put this whole silliness behind her.

  She was wrong to think of Wade in a sexual manner. It was unethical. And it wouldn’t happen again.

  But as her eyelids finally drifted shut, Wade was there, naked, smiling, showing off that one adorable dimple and reaching for her.

  It was going to be hard to leave this particular dream behind.

  And even harder to face Wade in the morning.

  CHAPTER NINE

  WADE RETURNED TO his hotel room, still rattled by what had just happened. He should’ve listened to his intuition and declined Mona’s offer but what could he say? He was a man and she was a sexy woman—sometimes the libido got in the way of rational thought.

  He shoved a hand through his hair, groaning as he fell to the bed. That was no excuse for what almost happened. Seconds before Morgan had walked through the door, he and Mona had been in a pretty hot and heavy lip-lock. He’d been fairly certain they were going to end up in the bedroom. Good God, he was so glad that hadn’t happened. How embarrassing.

  He stared up at the ceiling and wondered what Morgan was thinking at this very moment. Was she disgusted with him for going home with her sister? By the looks of things, Morgan hadn’t been surprised to find Mona entertaining a stranger in her home. Did Mona do this sort of thing often? When he’d thought that Mona reminded him of someone, he hadn’t expected that Mona and Morgan were related. But the minute Morgan entered the room, he saw the resemblance and wanted to die.

  Mona had been amenable to taking the party elsewhere but the idea made him recoil now that he knew Mona was Morgan’s sister. Why did it matter, exactly? He wasn’t sure but it did.

  Those excruciating five minutes were carved into his memory and would likely remain there until he died. Damn, he hadn’t felt this kind of adrenaline rush in years. He searched his memory. Hell, the last time his heart had raced like this was when he was seventeen and he and Angelica Ramon had nearly been caught naked in her shower together. Her parents were supposed to be gone for the day. Well, they’d come home early. Oh, that’d been a race to safety, for sure. Angelica had pushed him out of the bathroom window—thank the Lord for a single-story home—and he’d run to his Blazer clutching his clothes. All her parents had ended up se
eing was the cloud of dust from his squealing tires as he beat a trail out of there.

  Too bad everyone knew that he drove a burgundy Blazer. His dad had been waiting for him.

  “A minute, son,” his dad had called out when he’d tried to sneak to his bedroom. Wet hair plastered to his head, Wade cursed under his breath and did an about-face.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Wade entered the den with slow feet, reluctant to meet his dad’s stare. He probably looked guilty as hell but he couldn’t help it. He knew Angelica’s parents had given his dad an earful and now it was time to pay the piper. “You’re never going to guess who just called...”

  “Dad...”

  “No, actually, on second thought, you probably know exactly who called, don’t you?”

  For a split second he considered playing dumb but he was caught. “Yeah,” he answered. “Probably Mr. Ramon.”

  “A very angry Mr. Ramon. He seems to think that you and his little girl were up to no good. Is this true?”

  He shrugged. “Depends on your perspective, I guess.”

  “How about from the perspective of Mr. Ramon?”

  Wade shrugged again, hating that his dad was drawing this out. Just punish me already and be done with it.

  “All I can say is, you’re lucky Ben Ramon doesn’t own a gun, ’cause otherwise, I might be looking at a son with buckshot buried in his ass.”

  Wade cracked an inappropriate smile and quickly smothered it.

  “So here’s the deal...I remember what it was like to be a randy teenager but you gotta be more careful and more respectful of who you’re playing around with. First thing tomorrow, you’re going to go to Ben and mend fences. You’re gonna apologize and be the respectful young man I raised you to be.”

  Wade looked to his dad, appalled. “You want me to go back there? He’ll beat me to a pulp.”

  “Naww...he won’t do that but he’s going to give you an earful, and you’re going to listen. That’s his baby girl. Always remember that, son. For every girl you think you can mess with without consequence, she’s someone’s daughter. That ought to put things in perspective.”