“Pay up.” She stuck out her hand, palm up.
Jared took out a bill, held it out. “It was worth it.”
“You ain’t seen nothing yet, Lawyer MacKade.”
Jared thought about the promise of those agile, curvy hips and sincerely hoped not.
Chapter 3
It was probably a mistake, Savannah thought, to be sitting across a booth at Ed’s from Jared MacKade, eating ice cream. But he’d been very persuasive. And Bryan and Connor had been so excited when he offered to treat them to a victory sundae after the Antietam Cannons batted their way to a win.
And it did give her a chance to see him with Cassandra Dolin.
Connor’s mother was a frail little thing, Savannah mused. Blonde and pretty as a china doll, with eyes so haunted they could break your heart. Jared was very gentle with her, very sweet, coaxing smiles from her.
Evidently the shy, vulnerable type was right up his alley.
“Come on, Cassie, have some ice cream with us.”
“I can’t.” Cassie paused by their table long enough to brush a hand over her daughter’s hair as little Emma ate her hot fudge with tiny, serious bites. “We’re swamped. But I appreciate you treating the kids, Jared.”
She was thin enough to blow away in a spring breeze, Jared thought, and held up a spoonful of sundae. “Have a bite, anyway.”
She flushed, but opened her mouth as obediently as a child when he held the spoon to her lips. “It’s wonderful.”
“Hey, Cass, burgers up.”
“Right there.” Cassie hurried off to pick up the orders from the counter where Edwina Crump reigned supreme.
The owner of the diner sent Jared a lusty wink. The fact that she was twenty years his senior didn’t stop her from appreciating a fine-looking man. “Hey, big fellow, don’t see you in here often enough.” She patted her frizzed red bowling ball of a hairdo. “When you taking me dancing?”
“Whenever you say, Ed.”
She gave a chicken-cackle laugh, wiggled her bony body. “Got a hot band over at the Legion tonight. I’m ready and waiting,” she told him before she swung back into the kitchen.
Amused, Savannah propped her elbows on the table. “The Legion, huh? I bet it gets pretty wild.”
“You’d be surprised.” He cocked a brow. “Wanna go?”
“I’ll pass, thanks. Bry, do you think you can shovel any more into your mouth at one time?”
He scooped up a dripping spoon of ice cream, butterscotch and sprinkles. “It’s great,” he said around it. “What’s yours taste like, Con?” To see for himself, Bryan reached over the table to dip his spoon into Connor’s. “Strawberry’s okay,” he decided, “but butterscotch is the best.”
Willing to be wrong, he eyed Emma’s hot fudge avariciously.
“No,” Savannah said mildly, and watched with approval as the five-year-old Emma curled a hand protectively around her bowl. She might be a quiet one, Savannah mused, but the kid knew what was hers. “Pack it away, honey,” Savannah told her. “I bet you can eat these boys under the table.”
“I like ice cream,” Emma said, with one of her rare smiles.
“Me too.” With a grin, Savannah scooped up some of her own. “And hot fudge is the best, right?”
“Uh-huh, and the whipped cream. Miss Ed gives you lots of it.” She put her spoon down carefully beside her empty bowl and announced, “I can go to Regan’s now. My mama said.”
“What’s Regan’s?” Bryan wanted to know.
“She’s friends with my mom,” Connor told him. “She has a shop just down the street. It has lots of neat things to look at.”
“Let’s go see.”
Before he could dart from the booth, Savannah laid a hand on his arm. “Bryan.”
It took him a minute. “Oh, yeah, thanks. Mr. MacKade. The ice cream was great. Come on, Con.”
“Thanks, Mr. MacKade.” Since Emma already had his hand and was tugging on it, Connor slid from the booth. He looked down at his sister, wrinkled his brow.
“Thank you,” she said, keeping an iron grip on her brother’s hand.
“You’re welcome. Say hi to Regan.”
“We will. Mama,” Connor called out, “we’re going down to Regan’s.”
“Don’t touch anything,” Cassie told them, balancing two plates on one arm and serving another. “And come right back if she’s busy.”
“Yes’m.”
Bryan was already out of the door, and Connor followed, hampered by his sister’s sedate pace.
“I’d say you hit a home run,” Savannah commented, leaning back to drape an arm over the back of the booth.
“You hit one yourself. That’s one of the longest conversations I’ve ever heard out of Emma.”
“It must be hard, being shy. She looks like an angel. Like her mother.”
Angels who’d already been through hell, Jared thought. “Cassie’s doing a terrific job with them, on her own. You’d appreciate that.”
“Yes, I would.” Savannah glanced over to where Cassie was busy wiping down a booth. “You’re…close?”
“I’ve known her most of my life, but no, not the way you mean. She’s a friend.” Pleased she was interested enough to ask, he took out a cigar. “And a client. Anything beyond friendship wouldn’t be ethical, when I’m representing her.”
“And you’d be a very ethical man, wouldn’t you, Lawyer MacKade?”
“That’s right. You know, you’ve never mentioned what you do.”
“About what?”
“About making a living.”
“I’ve done all sorts of things.” With a sizzling look, she took the cigar from him.
“I’ll just bet you have,” he murmured.
“Right now I’m an illustrator. Kids’ books, mostly.” Laughing, she passed the cigar back to him. “Doesn’t quite fit the image, does it?”
“I don’t know. I’d have to see some of your illustrations.” He glanced up, and his lips curved. “Hey, Dev.”
Savannah shifted to see the man who had just come in. He had the same dark, go-to-hell looks as Jared, a body that was tall and tough and rangy. The eyes were green, as well, but they were different.
She recognized the way they swept the room, checked for details, looked for trouble. Instinctively her muscles tightened, her face went blank. She didn’t need the badge on his chest to tell her this was the sheriff. She could spot a cop at half a mile on a speeding horse. She could smell one at twenty paces.
“Saw your car.” After one quick scan of the room, one quick smile for Cassie, Devin dropped into the booth beside his brother.
“Savannah Morningstar, Devin MacKade.”
“Nice to meet you.” An eyeful was Devin’s first impression. Then he caught the chill, and wondered about it. “You bought the cabin? The doctor’s place.”
“That’s right. It’s my place now.”
Not