“You need a pair of real boots.”
“These are real boots. I’ve worn them all winter.”
“Real boots don’t make a fashion statement. They’re snug around the calves and go to your knees.”
He had a point. Although it snowed quite a bit, she wasn’t out in it very much. She liked to look feminine and stylish. She did own a pair of tie boots with lamb’s wool inside, but they would have looked hideous with her skirt.
Thoughts of boots vanished as Jed carried her to the front stoop. He was as solid as a granite cliff. Held against him as she was, she could feel the breadth of his shoulders and the strength of his arms. Under the overhang of the porch, there was only about an inch of snow. He set her down lightly, as if she were fragile enough to break. She felt so small beside him. So slight. So feminine. The green depths of his eyes mesmerized her as they stood close together.
He fingered a stray curl along her cheek, and she thought she’d melt right there on his porch. “Hats are a good idea in this kind of weather, too,” he advised huskily.
“I’ll remember that the next time it snows,” she murmured, knowing that coming here with Jed was a very big mistake.
Al suddenly came up behind them. “Want my key?”
Quickly Jed dug into his jacket pocket. “Nope. I’ve got mine.” He opened the door and let Brianne enter before him.
As she took a quick look around, Jed shrugged out of his coat and switched on a light. “It’s like stepping back into the fifties, isn’t it?”
Glancing around the interior of the house, she saw what he meant. There was warm wood flooring, but it didn’t have the finish modern floors had. The brick fireplace was simple, without a hearth, but with an alcove to store wood next to it. A gold-and-green flowered sofa sat against one wall, near a comfortable-looking tweed recliner that had seen years’ worth of use. Beyond the living room she could see the kitchen, with its linoleum floor, and yellow and white ceramic tiles behind the appliances and sink. The counters were gold swirl and the cabinets birch.
“There wasn’t anything wrong with the fifties,” Al mumbled.
After Brianne removed her coat, Jed took it and hung it in the closet beside his. “I’ll get a fire started. The house has always been drafty.”
Brianne heard Al harumph as he went into the kitchen and hung his jacket on a rack there.
When she crossed to the fireplace, she studied the pictures on the TV console next to it. “You have a brother and a sister?” she asked, looking at a family portrait, the only one in the room from what she could see.
As Jed touched a long match to the kindling, he answered, “Yes.”
“Older or younger?” She knew she was pushing, but she wanted to know more about this man.
“They’re both older.”
“Do they live around here?”
Crouching down, Jed placed two logs on the fire. “No. None of us could wait to escape small-town life in Sawyer Springs. Ellie is out in California producing documentaries, and Chris is a colonel in the army now.”
“You’re all successful. I’ll bet that makes your parents proud.”
With a last look at the dancing flames, Jed closed the mesh screen, stood and faced her. “Mom instilled the idea in us that we could rise above anything, be whatever we wanted to be. She died during my residency, but she knew we were all on our way.”
So Jed knew how it felt to lose a parent. Thinking about it, Brianne felt she’d lost hers twice—once when she’d found out she was adopted, because nothing had been the same after that, and then again after the accident. “I’ll bet your dad’s proud of what you’ve accomplished.”
Jed turned away and gazed into the fire for a few moments. “I’m not sure what Dad feels. And my idea of success has changed over the past few years.” A haunted shadow crossed his face again.
Wanting to be honest with him, she admitted, “I know you were a plastic surgeon in L.A. before you went to Alaska. Did something happen to—”
Al returned to the living room then, unaware that he was interrupting. With a broad smile, he addressed Brianne. “We’ve got leftover rotisserie chicken from the deli and a bag of potatoes. Anything you can cook up with that?” Al Sawyer apparently was the kind of man who assumed that all women knew how to cook.
“Dad, you can’t expect Brianne—”
“That sounds like the beginnings of a scalloped-potato-and-chicken casserole to me. What do you think about that?” she asked seriously.
Grinning, Al nodded. “Now you’re talkin’. I knew it was a good idea bringin’ you along home.”
Brianne laughed and Jed just shook his head. “You really know how to win a girl over, Dad.”
“Maybe you should try it sometime,” his father replied.
Jed’s face went still and the hint of a smile vanished. But his tone was even when he said, “Dad keeps a stash of frozen cakes in the downstairs freezer. I’ll get one of those for dessert before we all start peeling potatoes.”
Deciding to put her best foot forward—what trouble could she get into cooking supper?—Brianne smiled at Jed’s father. “Mr. Sawyer, why don’t you show me around your kitchen?”
As he jammed his hands into the pockets of his coveralls, he muttered, “It’s Al. Come on, and I’ll show you where everything is.”
After supper, washing dishes while Brianne dried, Jed tried to figure out why he felt turned inside out whenever he was around her. Her presence stirred up emotions he hadn’t felt in years. He told himself she was young and beautiful, and that’s all it was.
He was placing the last dish in the drainer when his father went to the back door and looked out. “The snow shows no sign of stopping anytime soon. I think I’ll go out and shovel the front walk.”
“I bought the snowblower so you don’t have to do that, Dad. I’ll take it out later for its first pass.”
“That thing runs away with me,” Al grumbled. “I prefer a shovel.”
“You should prefer the living room in front of the fire, and let me take care of it.”
His face reddening, Al demanded, “And just what happens if I let you take care of everything and then you leave and I’m stuck with it again? I’ll be out of shape and not used to countin’ on myself. If you’re so dad-blasted set on running the snowblower, I’ll go upstairs and work on that jigsaw puzzle in my room.”
“Mr. Sawyer?” Brianne said as he started toward the living room.
Al gave her a look that said she was supposed to call him by his first name.
“Al,” she amended. “I don’t want to disrupt your evening. If you want to watch TV—”
“You’re not disrupting anything. I’m almost finished with that puzzle and I want to see it all put together. Jed will find you anything you need for tonight. If I don’t see you before, I’ll see you in the morning.” He left the kitchen abruptly without saying good-night to his son.
Jed took the dish towel from Brianne’s hands. “Let the rest drip dry. Would you like a glass of brandy?”
The house was drafty, and the idea of a glass of brandy in front of the fire with Jed was appealing. “Sure.”
A few minutes later as he joined her on the sofa, he handed her a small snifter, took a sip of his, set it on the coffee table and ran his hand through his hair. She could tell the interchange with his father was still frustrating him.
“Your dad doesn’t