“Lady?” Her surprise rang clear. “Don’t play with me, Adam. I know I pissed you off last time I saw you, but what’s done is done. And I’ve come a long way to tell you I was wrong. Can’t you forgive and forget?”
She allowed her hand to lazily drop down his chest, her fingers burrowing a path through the layer of sweat and dirt on his skin, ending when she pulled her hand away at his navel.
“I already forgot, I’m afraid,” he answered. “Whether I wanted to or not.”
She bit her bottom lip, tugging the bright red flesh between straight white teeth. “Good. That’ll make everything easier.”
Adam opened his mouth to tell her otherwise when he heard the front door of the cabin swing open, then bang shut.
“Adam?”
He turned in time to see Renée take one step down off the rough steps. She twisted a towel around her hands, wiping clean whatever white paint or powder she’d been working with before. She’d run a brush through her straight blond hair, undoing the ponytail she wore each and every day. She’d tucked in her T-shirt. Put on shoes. All cleaned up, she looked more like the barely twenty-one-year-old coed she’d been before their parents’ deaths robbed her of most of her youthful exuberance. Before his accident swiped the rest.
Adam didn’t know why, but his sister’s sudden attention to her appearance in the presence of this stranger put him on edge.
“Everything all right?” she asked.
The woman from the convertible frowned deeply, then arched a brow. “Tell me she’s your sister.” More a command than a request, her voice remained low so that Renée couldn’t hear.
Adam obliged. “She is my sister.”
The stranger blew out a low whistle. “Thank God.”
She put on her best smile and sashayed across the yard, managing to look graceful and surefooted as her four-inch heels bit into the grass and mulch.
The woman had sass. He couldn’t be sure if this had been a trait he’d found attractive before, but he sure as hell found it hot now.
“You must be Adam’s sister. I wish I could say he told me a lot about you, but that wouldn’t be true.”
She extended her hand to Renée, but his sister responded by throwing a perplexed look his way. After a moment, the stranger turned and hit him with the same expression.
She mouthed the word Well?
He shrugged.
“No manners, huh?” the stranger said. “Men.”
She looked to Renée for some indication that she commiserated, but his sister looked far too uncomfortable to do more than stand there. Renée didn’t like situations she didn’t understand and, therefore, couldn’t control. He’d been told he’d once been the same way, but lately “live and let live” made for a much less frustrating lifestyle.
Suddenly, he realized what the stranger wanted—she wanted him to introduce her to his sister. Well, he couldn’t, could he? So he shrugged again, then strolled closer, positioning himself between the two of them, though he wasn’t exactly sure why. He hooked his thumbs in the leather of his tool belt and trusted his instincts. Lately, they were all he had.
The stranger rolled her eyes, then extended her hand to his sister again. “I’m Sydney Colburn.”
Renée glanced at him with a thousand questions she knew as well as he did that he couldn’t answer. Finally, she accepted the handshake. “Renée Brody. Wait. Sydney Colburn, the romance novelist?”
“You know my books?”
Surprisingly, the sexy stranger did humility very well.
“There’s not much to do out here after dark,” Renée answered, and Adam wasn’t sure if his sister had just extended the woman a compliment or not. He sighed. Sometimes, Renée was better off living in the woods—her interpersonal skills sucked. Then again, her blunt style had helped him get the best medical care her sharp tongue could buy. “I read quite a bit,” she continued, her tone quick, as if she meant to undo the damage. “You know my brother?”
Sydney eyed her narrowly. “Biblically.”
Adam coughed, stunned by the woman’s brazen statement, which she punctuated with an unabashed wink.
Renée obviously didn’t believe her. “I don’t see how that can be possible. Adam would have told—”
“Oh, I doubt Adam would have told you anything about me. It wasn’t the way we worked. Back then.”
When the mysterious, sexy Sydney Colburn slid her hand up his bare arm, Adam watched two things prickle—the hair on his forearm and his sister. If Renée had had hackles, they would have raised to full attention.
Uh-oh. He’d seen her go into protection mode before, and the results could be ugly.
“Adam tells me everything. We’re very close.”
Sydney seemed undaunted, oblivious to Renée’s darkening mood. Her mouth quirked up on one side as she took in her surroundings. “Close, huh? Are we talking close like backwoods kissin’ cousins or is my mind just dipping into the gutter again? I swear, I’ve been trying to fix that about myself but it’s a tough-won battle.”
Renée’s shock knocked all pretense of hospitality off her face. “Who the hell do you think you are?”
“I told you, I’m Sydney Colburn.”
She left it at that—as if the mere statement of her name should be sufficient to fill in all the blanks. Renée crossed her arms over her chest and squared her stance, as if preparing for battle.
And while Adam enjoyed a good catfight the same as any man, he had to step in. He had a strong suspicion that this Sydney Colburn, even in tight jeans and towering sandals, was the one woman who could give his scrappy sister a run for her money.
“Yes, you are Sydney Colburn, and this is Renée Brody. And I am, indeed, Adam Brody, who you apparently came a long way to find. Renée, do you think you could give us a minute?”
Renée’s blue eyes flashed and her lips rolled inward to form a grim line of indignation. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” she muttered.
Adam glanced down at Sydney, who had the sense to keep her mouth shut, though, for some reason, he suspected she had a razor-sharp quip dancing on the edge of her tongue.
“I’m really thirsty,” he insisted. “Could sure use some of your world-famous lemonade.”
He quirked his smile with a dash of charm, which softened his sister. Two months ago, he wouldn’t have been able to execute such a smooth maneuver. Little by little, he was remastering the art of female manipulation.
Without another word, Renée stomped back into the house. He noticed that while she’d pulled the screen door shut, she’d left the inner door open. His sister had never been known for her subtlety—something else she seemed to have in common with Sydney Colburn, who’d just latched on to his arm.
“I should have been nicer to your sister. But, man, I could sense her antagonism a mile away.” She shook her head, and Adam couldn’t resist taking a deep breath, inhaling the scent of lavender that floated around her. Soft and soothing, in direct contrast to the brazen woman who wore it—almost. She said what was on her mind, but she also took instant responsibility for her brassiness. “I go on the defensive sometimes before I can stop myself. What did you tell her about me?”
He took her hand, the one that had been making love to his forearm, and dragged her back toward her car. “I didn’t tell her a damned thing. I couldn’t.”
“Well, you could have. I mean, I know we had an agreement not to tell anyone about us, but that