Slow Dancing With a Texan
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“But you own both houses?”
“Sure. In fact, a year or so ago I bought a neighboring house when the old woman who lived there passed away. It was a good thing, too. My father had a stroke a few months later, so I insisted that he and Mom move in next door so I could keep an eye on them.” She inclined her head. “I suppose you could say we live in a family compound.”
Sloan could not imagine anything worse. The thought of having people—meddling family members especially—underfoot all the time gave him the creeps.
“Sounds real cozy,” he said, using her words and with a grin he didn’t feel. “So your father is still alive. Does he work?”
“He’s totally disabled. Confined to a wheelchair,” she said sadly.
“And your brother-in-law…what does he do for a living?”
Lainie studied her toes. “Well, Jeff runs my father’s bar now. It’s not much of a living, though. The place is only open a few hours a day, except on weekends. Mom keeps the books, but it never has been much of a moneymaker.”
Sloan got the picture. Lainie seemed to be the sole support for the whole clan. He wondered if she realized how much friction could arise between family members when one strong person ruled the purse strings. As a lawman he’d seen that kind of thing happen often enough.
“Hmm. Let me get this straight in my head,” he began. “All of your immediate family lives in housing that you own and no doubt provide free of charge.”
“I couldn’t ask my family to pay me.”
“Uh-huh. And you are the one person in the family who is gainfully employed.”
“My sister works hard in her job at the paper.”
“I’m sure she does. But you’re her boss, right?”
“Yes, but—”
“So without you, what would become of the rest of the family?”
Those great green eyes widened and she twisted the edge of the bedspread around in her fingers. “I’ve provided for them in my will, of course. And I imagine that Suzy could keep the column going for quite a while if I were ill. I’ve been letting her write a few of the columns so she could get the practice.”
“Seems to me that the whole bunch of them ought to be real concerned over your welfare.”
“That’s not fair.” She stood up and began pacing from the bed to the door and back. “They’re my family. All families have a few problems, but that doesn’t mean they don’t love each other.” She stopped and held her palm out, pleading for him to understand. “You must know how it is. Family is the most important thing in the world. You probably have a few family problems of your own. Everyone does.”
His silence told Lainie a lot about the man. There was something about his family that bothered him.
Finally he shook his head. “Don’t have a family,” he muttered.
“None? No wife…or ex-wife…and kids?”
He scowled. “Never been married.”
“But surely you must have parents. Were you orphaned at an early age or something?” She sat down on the edge of the bed and studied him again.
“Nope. Had a mother…up until December fifteenth.”
“Your mother just passed away three months ago?” She gulped, wondering how she’d gotten herself into such a stupid conversation in the first place. “I’m so sorry, Sloan. Were you two very close?”
His eyes turned dark and he looked away. “Not really. I didn’t get back to visit her much. It’d been maybe six years or so since the last time.”
From the sound of his voice, she wondered if he’d even had a chance to speak to his mother before her death. In her typical prying way, Lainie couldn’t stand not asking.
“Uh…maybe this isn’t any of my business, but were you two estranged over something? Many of my advice columns touch on the guilt people feel after the death of a family member. The worst is when they’d never gotten the chance to reconcile their problems, and all of a sudden it’s too late.”
It was Sloan’s turn to stand. He took off the denim jacket, and for the first time Lainie saw the gun stuck in a holster at his waistband. The sight of it put a cold damper on the hot lust she’d begun to feel at the sight of his tight, muscular butt encased in superslim jeans.
“You’re right,” he said over his shoulder as he hung up the jacket and unknotted his tie. “It’s none of your business.”
That put her in her place. She should’ve known better than to try to befriend an uptight, close-mouthed lawman. Well, fine.
“I have an overnight kit in the truck,” he told her as he removed the holster and checked the gun. “Do you want me to rustle up some toothpaste and stuff for you to use? You could sleep in one of my T-shirts, if you like. That would probably be more comfortable than the heavy old raincoat.” He pulled off the Ranger’s badge and laid it down on top of the television with his gun.
“I’m not sleeping with you,” she huffed. “Not in anything.”
“Suit yourself.” He undid his belt, pulled it through the loops and hung it over the metal rod. “Mind if I turn on the TV, then? I sleep better with a little noise.”
“You can honestly think of sleeping at a time like this?”
“I’m tired. You’d be smart to try catching a few zees yourself.” His voice was edgy and not at all as sexy as it had been earlier. “You’ve got a big day tomorrow,” he continued as he flipped on the set and sat back down on his side of the bed.
She folded her arms over her chest and prepared to tell him exactly what she expected of him tomorrow. But for a second she was distracted by the local news and the eerie pictures of her office building with the front lobby windows blown out.