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  “Some surprise, huh? I was getting cabin fever in my apartment. I’ll see if I can stay with Uncle Curtis and Sydney until you return to town.” Isabelle bit her lip.

  “That’s not necessary. There’s plenty of room for the three of us in this big ol’ penthouse.” Tate rubbed his chin.

  “No, that’s OK,” Isabelle blurted out.

  Tate shook his head. “I insist. Besides, we’re family. In a manner of speaking.”

  “Problem solved,” Morgan said over the phone. “I’m sure you and Tate will get along just fine. Call me when you get settled.” Then Morgan ended the call.

  “I think we can put this away now that you’ve identified me.” Tate slid the knife back into the butcher block.

  “Sorry.” She blushed. “A woman can’t be too careful these days.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “And apparently neither can a man.”

  “Let’s start over. I’m Isabelle Reed.” She offered him her hand to shake.

  Tate looked at her hand. Like the rest of her, it was so small and delicate compared to his, he was afraid it would break, but he definitely wanted to touch her. She was adorable when she was trying to be tough, but her long curly hair, put up in some wild bun on the top of her head, put him in the mood for a different kind of fighting. Her pouty lips looked juicy, the bottom one slightly red from her biting it. And those eyes, she had Morgan’s eyes. They were almond shaped and seductive, hidden behind long, curly black lashes. He couldn’t help but look at her luscious, full breasts, the weight of the sunglasses clipped onto her blouse giving him a bird’s-eye view of the pink lace trim of her bra.

  “Do you not shake hands where you’re from?” Isabelle quirked an eyebrow.

  “Sorry, I just get lost in my own thoughts sometimes. I’m Tate McGill. Morgan’s brother-in-law. It’s always a pleasure to meet a beautiful woman.” Tate grinned and took her hand.

  “Nice to meet you too.”

  “So, you’re here on vacation?”

  “A wedding. Our cousin Dana is getting married.” She rolled her eyes.

  “Not fond of weddings?”

  “No, I love weddings. I was actually bummed out that Morgan and Seth didn’t have one. It’s just that I haven’t been home in a while, and I’ve made some life changes that I don’t feel like explaining to my family.”

  Did the broken arm have anything to do with the change? “Family can get nosey when they care. Morgan prefaces that before she gives me one of her pep talks.”

  Isabelle laughed. “I love her pep talks. What are you doing babysitting Jake? Shouldn’t you be out corrupting innocent women and writing songs about it?”

  “You listen to my music?” Tate leaned against the counter.

  Isabelle looked away and tugged at her sunglasses, inadvertently giving Tate another eyeful. “No, to my cousin. She’s told me a thing or two about her guitar-wielding gigolo brother-in-law.”

  “Morgan may have told you some stories that didn’t exactly portray me in a good light.” He held his hands up.

  “You mean the light of infamy? Innocent people don’t publicize their exploits on their CDs.”

  Tate raised an eyebrow. “So you have listened to my songs. Which scandalous ditty did you like?”

  Isabelle put her fingers to her lips. “Country music isn’t my thing, but Morgan got me to listen to your song about you changing your ways and finding a good woman. I think it was called ‘A Man’s Glory.’”

  “Oh.” Tate rubbed his chin. “I wrote that one for Morgan and Seth.”

  “Huh. I can see that.” Isabelle nodded.

  “You don’t believe I’d be referring to myself?”

  “No, I wouldn’t. You have trouble written all over you.”

  “It’s written in all the right spots.” Tate winked.

  “I rest my case.”

  Tate laughed. Yeah, she was a Reed. “Can I help you with your bags?”

  “Yes, thanks. I’ll be in the third bedroom down the hall from Morgan and Seth’s.” Isabelle turned to leave.

  Tate coughed. “I’m afraid I’m already staying in there.”

  She turned back around, her eyes wide. “That’s my room.”

  Tate laughed to himself. She was doing that pouty thing again. Did she even know that she did it? “I’m a fair man. I’m more than willing to share with you.”

  “That’s a generous offer, but there are six bedrooms in this penthouse. I’m sure I’ll find one to my liking.”

  * * *

  The highlight of Isabelle’s day was when Sydney brought Jake home. He gave Isabelle the tightest squeeze a one-year-old could give. It was good to see Sydney involved in Jake’s life. Isabelle was proud of Morgan for finally reaching out to the love Sydney had always been sending her way. She missed her Aunt Elizabeth too, but Sydney brought so much joy to her Uncle Curtis’s life.

  Sydney had already given Jake dinner, so Tate took him and said he’d give him a bath so the ladies could catch up.

  Sydney looked horrified when she saw the cast and sling, but Isabelle assured her it was worse than it looked.

  “What a surprise!” Sydney squeezed her as they walked into the living room.

  “I was sitting home anyway.” Isabelle pointed at her cast.

  “Funny, rock climbing was the last thing I thought you’d ever try.” Sydney gave her a weary look.

  Isabelle walked over to the couch. “It was the separation. I was doing all kinds of out-of-character things.”

  “Like what?”

  “Let’s see, I tried this new peppermint-flavored coffee, which was awful. I switched detergents but broke out in hives, so I switched back. I even considered a perm to straighten out these curls.” She ran a hand through her hair.

  “Isabelle Reed, I was not born yesterday. And don’t ever perm your hair.”

  “Then maybe the family would stop calling me curly Q.” Isabelle rolled her eyes.

  “It’s done out of love, you know that.” Sydney rubbed her cheek.

  They spent another half hour catching up on family gossip. Sydney made her promise she would stop by the house so they could have a more in-depth chat about her “rock-climbing accident.” Isabelle could hear the air quotes in Sydney’s voice, but she ignored it. When Isabelle let Sydney out, she made her way to the guest room to find her things were put away, the suitcases stood in the closet, and her violin case sat on the bed. Jake must have helped because one of his stuffed animals lay on a pillow. Isabelle removed her sling and fell back on the bed with a heavy sigh. She longed to take a hot shower but needed something to cover her cast. She had been so busy waving that knife at Tate in the kitchen she’d forgotten to check for cling wrap. Isabelle reached for Jake’s stuffed dog and placed it near her cheek. It felt soft and comforting. Boy, had he grown since the last time she’d been in town. Seeing Morgan with him gave her hope that someday she’d have a family of her own. She and Ned had gone off the baby-making course a long time ago. Perhaps that was the first sign they were headed for trouble. As each year passed, talk of children dwindled to the occasional moments when they passed a loving new family or saw a touching commercial with a baby in it.

  Isabelle pulled the bed cover over her and drifted off to sleep.

  An hour later Tate knocked on her bedroom door. It was faint at first, but the persistent knocking finally brought her out of her slumber.

  “Come in,” she mumbled.

  “I come in peace.” He laughed. “This isn’t a bad room.”

  “It’s a lovely room. I just like being closer to Jake.” She shrugged.

  “Me too. You seem like you had a long day. How about a late supper?”

  “I don’t know.” Isabelle gave Tate a once over. He looked refreshed and gorgeous while she felt like roadkill. Life was so unfair.

  “Sydney brought me mac and cheese today. You could use a good meal after traveling all day.”

  “You’re on. I’ll meet you in the kitchen in ten minutes.” She smile
d.

  Isabelle sat up and caught a glimpse of herself in the oval standing mirror in the corner. Her hair stood up all over the place, and her clothes were so wrinkled it looked as though she’d slept in her suitcase. No way was she eating with the gorgeous Tate McGill looking like that. Isabelle opened the closet, scanning the contents for a fresh shirt to wear. When she found one she wanted, she went into the bathroom in search of a brush to tame her unruly curls.

  * * *

  Isabelle sat on the stool as Tate fixed two hefty plates of mac and cheese. This man certainly knew his way around the kitchen. He’d actually taken the time to make chicken-fried steak to go with Sydney’s dish. The hedonistic image she’d had of him being waited on hand and foot by groupies in short skirts and low-cut blouses had just been blown to smithereens. Actually, finding out he was babysitting Jake blew away all of her preconceived notions. She’d just envisioned he had a high level of self-indulgence. She had to admit she was a little jealous that Lana McNeal had been pawing him during their performance on that awards show. He was her sexy cowboy, after all. Each time he turned his back to her, Isabelle couldn’t help but notice how well his snug-fitting jeans accentuated his perfect, firm ass.

  She dug into the mac and cheese with her fork. “I can’t eat all this.”

  “It will help you grow.” He grinned.

  “So I can be big and strong like you?”

  “OK. The home cooking will make your arm get better. What happened there?” He nodded toward her cast.

  “I thought I’d take up rock climbing.” She shrugged and averted her eyes.

  Tate whistled. “Yikes. That must have been painful. Rock climbing can be pretty dangerous. What made you do it?”

  “Looking for excitement and a new challenge. But turns out I may have ended by career.”

  “How so?” Tate furrowed his eyebrows.

  “I’m a violinist. There were complications with the break, but I am still hoping it will heal completely. A change in my range of motion would affect my ability to play. There’s no guaranteeing I will be able to play like I did before the accident.” Isabelle bit her lip.

  “Maybe you’ll play better than before.”

  “Usually, when something breaks and you put it back together, it doesn’t get better.” She put her fork down and stared at her plate.

  “That’s not true. Hearts get broken all the time and people recover. They get stronger and go on with their lives.”

  Isabelle grimaced. She looked up to find Tate staring at her.

  “Isabelle, is that really how you broke your arm?” Tate clenched his jaw.

  “Of course it is.”

  “If you don’t mind me saying, you don’t seem like the extreme sports type.” He shook his head.

  “And what type am I?” Isabelle put her hand on her hip.

  Tate looked her up and down. “I would have thought bench pressing at Venice Beach for sure.”

  Isabelle let out a loud snort. She covered her mouth, but it was too late. She’d made a farm animal noise in front of the man. So much for trying to appear sophisticated and alluring. “I must admit I am a closet body builder.”

  “Nah. You couldn’t be. Those soft curves of yours have never seen a weight room.” Tate forked a helping of mac and cheese into his mouth.

  Isabelle admired how well-defined his chest looked through his T-shirt. “And what do you do to stay in shape?”

  “Good old-fashioned farm work. When I go home, Bo works me like a dog, but it keeps me fit. Heavens knows I need the energy to keep up with Jake.”

  “He is a very active child.” She nodded in agreement.

  He leaned closer to her. “Don’t tell Morgan and Seth, but I don’t know who put who to bed last night.”

  Isabelle laughed. “Well, I’m here to help, surely he can’t exhaust two adults.”

  She reached in her pocket and pulled out her meds. Her arm was hurting. Without having to ask, Tate got her a glass of water.

  “Thanks.” She took the glass.

  He winced. “Hurting that bad?”

  “I’ve had the travel itinerary from hell today. Hopping planes with a broken arm was no fun. And I had to keep up with my trusty case.”

  “So where do you play the violin?”

  “The Madison Symphony Orchestra in Georgia. Our performances are held at the Peachtree Performing Arts Center.”

  Tate’s eyes lit up. “Fancy. You play classical?”

  “As a matter of fact, I do.”

  “I’ve played in that concert hall. Nice acoustics in there.” Tate scratched at his beard.

  “Yes! And the seating plan is awesome. I’ve sat in every section of that place, and there isn’t a bad spot in the building. It’s nice to know everyone can enjoy the performance no matter what price they paid.” Isabelle beamed.

  “I think we’re done.”

  “Pardon?” What did he mean? Was she boring him? They were having a nice conversation that she wanted to continue.

  He pointed to her empty plate.

  Oh. “I guess I was hungrier than I thought. This was an excellent meal. You’re a great cook.” Isabelle pulled on her ear.

  “Thank you.” Tate took her plate and put it in the sink.

  “I can help with clean up.” Isabelle hopped off the stool.

  “I’ve got this. My momma would say it was poor manners to make a woman do dishes for her meal. Besides, you need to rest that arm. Why don’t you sit back down and tell me about that concert hall of yours.” He smiled.

  How could she resist that infectious smile and those sparkling baby blues? Isabelle took her seat back on the stool and continued raving about the concert hall. Tate would chime in with stories about the venues he’d played. This was just like listening to him when she went to bed, except he was there in the flesh and he smelled good. When he offered her another glass of iced tea, she accepted. They talked for hours, and she forgot all about being exhausted from her travels.

  Chapter Four

  Tate was disappointed they had to part ways, but it was getting late and Isabelle looked exhausted. They headed for their bedrooms, but at the last minute she made a sharp turn and went into the library.

  Each time he’d mentioned her arm; she’d looked away or played with her silverware. His gut was telling him that she was lying about the way she broke her arm. As soon as he’d seen that cast, memories of his biological mother, Lila, had flashed in his head. His father had broken her arm once when he’d thrown her down the porch steps. When Tate had tried to get his father away from Lila, he’d pushed him too and Tate had hit his eye on the railing. Tate had been five at the time, but he could remember crying throughout the fight and when the police came after the paramedics took him and his mom to the hospital. Social services had come to Lila’s room and stated they were removing Tate from the house. Patty, one of the nurses monitoring his mom at the time, was a friend of the Blakes. Patty had called Teri-Lyn and John Jacob, who’d come to the hospital and asked social services if he could stay with them. That was the first time he’d gone to live with the Blakes.

  Tate looked in on Jake to find him sleeping peacefully in his race car toddler bed. He headed toward his room and called Seth.

  “Jeff’s pool hall. Jeff speaking,” Seth drawled into the phone.

  “Hey, Jeff, don’t forget that wine you promised to bring back.” Tate laughed.

  “It’s on my list. How’s Jake?”

  “He’s fine. We’ve been having a blast the last few days.”

  “So I can tell Morgan there are no tattoos or police records?”

  “I’m saving all that for his eighteenth birthday.” Tate chuckled.

  “How are you doing with your unexpected houseguest? Still quaking in your boots after having a knife on you?”

  “Nah. I wasn’t worried. I’ve never met a woman who could resist my charms.”

  “That’s pretty much why you stayed in trouble all four years of high school.”


  Tate coughed. “What’s the story with Isabelle?”

  “Why do you want to know?”

  “Can’t a man be curious?”

  “Sure, a man can, but with you a question is a prelude to a scandal.”

  “Most times, yes. I assure you this is just mild curiosity.”

  “Good, because that’s Morgan favorite cousin. As a matter of fact, they’re more like sisters. And you wouldn’t be able to sneak out the window the morning after since you’re babysitting your nephew.” Seth laughed.

  “Wow. Get down off your soapbox Prince Seth or I’ll tell Morgan about that time we spent in Fiji after your first Super Bowl win.”

  “McGill, I thought we made a pact. What’s happens in Fiji, stays in Fiji. I mean it, Tate.”

  “I’ve got photos. Spill it.” Tate took off his battered gold watch and started to get ready for bed.

  “She’s Morgan’s favorite cousin. Do you hear me? Favorite. She may be the anti-Charisma.”

  “She’s beautiful.”

  “That goes without saying. She had a bad breakup with a philandering husband. She’s in town for a cousin’s wedding and is staying with us so she doesn’t get interrogated by the rest of the family about her divorce.”

  Tate sat on the bed. So Isabelle was recovering from a broken arm and a broken heart.

  “She said she injured her arm rock climbing.” Tate sighed heavily.

  Seth was silent for a moment. “Do you think it’s something else?”

  “I’m not sure, but I don’t buy that explanation. I think there’s more to the story, and I intend to find out.”

  “I trust your gut. See if you can find out what happened.”

  “Will do. So how’s Morgan doing with the next Blake heir growing in her belly?”

  “Just fine. We have our baby name list narrowed down to a possible twenty.”

  “Any girl names on that list?”

  “I added one or two to make her happy.” Seth laughed.

  “All that procreating you’re doing is making the rest of us look bad.”

  “Sounds like it’s time for you to play catch up.”