Spring Bride. Sandra Marton
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Kyra thought grimly as she remembered the scene, no, they’d done more than agree. They’d acted as if the ideas were theirs, not hers. Not a one of them had thought to say, wow, Kyra, that was pretty good thinking. Thanks for your help. We really needed it!
But how could they? The big jerks had been too busy flashing each other goofy grins and putting on that disgusting display of male bonding they’d called, since childhood, the Deadeye Defenders’ secret handshake.
“Damn,” Kyra muttered.
She could not, she would not, go on being treated like a child! She would not settle into the life that was expected of her, chairing dumb committees for causes she didn’t believe in, attending silly functions where she was supposed to smile prettily and pretend she was having fun…
…and where a man like the Spaniard could say the things he’d said and then vanish into the blue.
Her coffee mug clattered against the table top.
The Spaniard? What on earth had made her think of him? Not that it was the first time. Like it or not, the man had been lurking inside her head for days.
Well, it was understandable. It wasn’t easy to forget such a pretentious, self-important cretin.
Impatiently, she rose from the chair, kicked it back into place, and dumped her mug into the sink To think she’d let him get away with such rude behavior. Why hadn’t she told him he was a jerk? In Spanish, of course, Spanish every bit as perfect as his. Her mouth twisted in a wry smile. According to her father, learning to converse in three different languages had been part of the education of a proper lady.
So why hadn’t she hurled an insult straight back into his handsome, insolent face?
You are a toothless dog, she could have said. You are a worm. You are an animal…
Except he was none of those. That was the trouble. He was the best-looking hunk she’d ever set eyes on and he knew it. It was why he thought he could get away with eyeing women and then sidling up to them and insulting them…
“Hello! Anybody home?”
Kyra spun around, her eyes wide with surprise. “Cade?”
“Squirt?”
“Cade!” She gave a screech of delight, raced from the kitchen, and threw herself into her brother’s arms.
He laughed as he twirled her around. “That’s what a man wants,” he said as he set her on her feet, “a greeting that really makes him feel welcome!”
Kyra grinned up at him. “What a wonderful surprise! But why didn’t you phone and tell me you were coming? I’d have met you at the airport.”
Was it her imagination, or did his smile dim before he answered?
“Well, it was kind of a last-minute decision. Anyway, I figured I didn’t need to make a formal announcement that I was coming, now that the old ma—I mean, now that Father’s not…”
“Of course you didn’t.” Kyra looped her arm through his. “You’ll always be welcome—wherever I live.”
Cade smiled. “Thanks, Squirt.”
“What are you thanking me for?” She hugged him. “I love you, you big jerk. Now, come on. Tell me all about Texas while I get you something to eat.”
“To tell the truth, I’m not hungry.”
“Coffee, then. I’ll put up a fresh pot while you tell me what Dallas is like.”
There was no doubt this time; she could definitely see his smile dim.
“There’s nothing to tell It’s just a city.”
“Well, did you accomplish what you went there for? Was that oil company doing as badly as you’d thought?”
“Yeah,” Cade said in a flat voice. “It was a mess, thanks to—thanks to—”
“Thanks to ‘the old man,’ you mean.” Kyra smiled and touched his hand. “It’s all right to call Father that,” she said softly. “To tell the truth, it’s how I usually thought of him.”
Cade’s face went cold. “What do you mean? Did he give you a hard time, once we were all gone?”
Kyra hesitated. Now was the time to tell him, to say that there were all kinds of ways to mistreat someone, that she had been trapped in a golden cage all her life…
But Cade looked so tired. And there was a darkness in his eyes that she’d never seen there before.
She smiled brightly. “No, of course not. I was Father’s angel, remember?”
Cade let out his breath. “Yeah.” He smiled, then glanced wistfully at the stairs. “Sis, would you mind if I crashed for a while? I’m really beat.”
“Of course. You go on up and take a nap.”
“Just give me a couple of hours and then tell Stella to pile on the bacon and eggs.”
Kyra chuckled. “You will have to take your chances with my bacon and eggs, little brother. I gave Stella a couple of weeks off.”
“But you can’t cook.”
Kyra tried not to bristle. “Believe it or not,” she said lightly, “you really can teach an old dog new tricks.”
Cade laughed. “Old?” he said, ruffling her hair. “Old, at twenty-two?” He drew back, looked her over, and frowned. “Is that why you look different? Because you’re cooking for yourself?”
“Hey,” she said with mock indignation, “is that an insult?”
“I’m senous, Squirt. Are you eating enough? Maybe you need vitamins.”
“Cade,” Kyra said gently, “do us both a favor. Don’t think for me, okay?”
It was only a teasing throwaway line, but her brother’s face darkened with anger.
“What is this?” he said harshly. “The new female battle cry?”
Kyra blinked. Whatever had happened to him in Dallas, it wasn’t good.
“You really do need some sleep,” she said gently. She stood on tiptoe and pressed a kiss to his stubbled jaw. “We can talk when you’re back among the living.”
Cade sighed and shot her a weary smile. “Good idea,” he said, and stumbled up the stairs.
When she heard Cade moving around, Kyra put aside the magazine she’d been reading, went into the kitchen, and laid four strips of bacon on the griddle. She hesitated, made a face, and added four more.
She’d done a lot of thinking the past couple of hours and she’d finally decided it would be silly not to ask his advice about her future. If anyone could help her with some ideas, her brother Cade was the one.
Just look at what he’d done with his own life, she thought as she began cracking eggs into a bowl. Cade had started out to be an engineer and ended up wildcatting for oil in all sorts of exotic places. He’d understand her need to shed her chrysalis and try her wings.
The Spaniard, on the other hand, would not. He’d want a woman to live in an ivory tower with a stove at one end and a bed at the other. The time at the stove might be worth it, though; he’d probably know how to keep a woman very, very happy in that bed.
One of the eggs slipped from Kyra’s hand and smashed against the tile floor. She looked down at the yolky mess, shook her head, and grabbed for a handful of paper towels.
What was wrong with her? Why had she thought of that man again? It was crazy. She was crazy, she thought grimly as she mopped up the egg. To waste even a minute of time thinking about somebody like that…
“What?” Cade said, plopping himself