The Marine Makes His Match. Victoria Pade
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straight teeth to make sure nothing was stuck in them.
She craned up higher so she could see the high collar of the cream-colored blouse she’d worn today under a cinnamon-colored cardigan to go along with tan slacks.
All in all, she judged herself presentable for the interview and again just wished Sutter Knightlinger would get there so it could begin.
So a lot of things could begin. Things her brothers were opposed to her doing at all.
A big black SUV came down the street just then and pulled into the driveway. Kinsey got out of her car and opened the door to her backseat, leaning in to retrieve the leather satchel that contained her résumé and patient forms along with her medical supplies and instruments.
By the time she’d done that, a deep, deep male voice was calling across the yard, “Are you Kinsey Madison?”
Drawing out of the car she closed the door and looked over the top of it to say “I am.” And to stop short at the sight of the very fine specimen of man who had gotten out of the SUV.
Tall—at least six foot three—he had broad shoulders, a narrow waist and long legs that no doubt did much justice to his uniform when he was wearing it. As it was, he certainly wasn’t putting shame to the checked sport shirt and unfaded denim jeans he wore. Not even the fact that his left arm was in a sling detracted from the image.
To top off the impressively muscular build was a face that could have graced recruitment posters to help attract women to the service. Ruggedly handsome, he had hair the shade of wet sand that was cut short on the sides and just long enough on top to comb back. He had deep-set, piercing teal eyes, a longish nose that was a hint hawkish, a great mouth with a full lower lip and an angular jawline that culminated at a squarish chin with the sexiest dimple right in the center of it.
And all of a sudden Kinsey felt the oddest sensation, as if a small electrical charge rippled through her.
Maybe she’d caught a chill.
Whatever it was, she ignored it and told herself to be professional. This was a job interview, after all.
She locked her car and rounded the front end to head up the walkway as he came from the driveway.
At the front door, Kinsey paused while he punched in a series of numbers on a keypad to unlock it. Opening it with his uninjured right hand, he said, “Come on in. I apologize for the delay. It couldn’t be helped.”
He didn’t sound at all contrite, just matter-of-fact and he offered no explanation. She’d known he was an officer in the marines, and his attitude showed he was accustomed to laying down orders and expecting them to be followed by lesser ranks whether they liked it or not, whether they understood it or not.
“No problem,” she assured, having a lot of experience with that mindset and taking no offense. Kinsey followed him into a living room, the whole way accompanied by the sound of vigorous barking coming from another room.
“Jack! Quiet!” her host commanded, making Kinsey fight a smile when the order was completely disregarded.
“Just a minute. I have him crated in the kitchen and he won’t stop until I go get him.”
The man who still hadn’t introduced himself left her.
Kinsey took the opportunity to look around.
The inside of the house was like the outside—no-nonsense. The walls were paneled, the floors were hardwood, the furniture was all dark leather, the draperies were formal and the tables were antique. Heavy, dark and distinguished, there wasn’t a single thing that was light, airy, frivolous or fun. Or particularly homey or welcoming, either.
The barking stopped and the sound of four skittering paws announced the wire-haired fox terrier puppy that suddenly charged into the room. The pint-sized white, black and brown pup came straight for Kinsey, jumping up on her and wagging his tail eagerly.
“Jack! Down!” was the second command the dog ignored.
Kinsey leaned over to pet the adorable terrier. “Hi, Jack.”
“I’d put him in the backyard but he’d just bark his head off until I let him in again.”
“He’s fine,” Kinsey said, laughing as Jack started wrestling with her pant leg, growling with puppy ferocity.
Her host bent over and scooped the animal away from Kinsey’s slacks, holding the little wriggler under his arm like a football.
“I’m Sutter Knightlinger, by the way,” he said finally. Then, nodding in the direction of the leather sofa, he added, “Have a seat.”
He waited until she was sitting to take one of the tufted leather wing chairs across from a mahogany coffee table coated with a layer of undisturbed dust. He situated Jack beside him and the pup promptly began gnawing on the big hand keeping him prisoner until Sutter distracted him with a chew toy.
He began the interview saying, “Livi told me about your credentials—registered nurse with physical therapy training and experience both in hospitals and in home health care. She also told me what you do as a home–health care provider, so we don’t have to go through that—you’re well qualified. But I’m not sure how much you know about the situation here.”
“I know a little,” Kinsey said. “Livi told me that you’re a cousin to her cousins? That your mother and her aunt by marriage were sisters?” The key part to this for Kinsey, though she couldn’t admit that to Sutter.
“You’ll need to address my mother as Colonel—if you call her anything but that you’ll get off on the wrong foot,” he advised. “But yes, the colonel’s sister Tina and Howard Camden were married, making Seth, Cade, Beau and Jani Camden my cousins.”
“Livi told me that your dad passed away a couple of months ago,” she continued. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
He acknowledged that stoically, with only the raise of that dimpled chin.
“Livi said that you were injured in Afghanistan and in a hospital when your dad died so the memorial service was postponed until last week, when you could get back. But your mom—the colonel—had a mild heart attack in the middle of it. I know that she’s since had a pacemaker put in, that she needs some recovery care, and that you, too, need physical therapy on that arm and shoulder.”
“For starters,” he said as if that was all only the tip of the iceberg. “Livi speaks highly of you,” he added, those teal eyes steady on her. “She says you go above and beyond the call of duty.”
Why did she automatically go to thoughts of doing completely inappropriate things with him? That wasn’t the way he’d said it—he was all business.
Kinsey pushed the thoughts aside, saying, “Above and beyond the call of duty in what way?”
His well-shaped eyebrows arched as if he’d just realized what she might be thinking and he was quick to say, “I’m not talking fraternizing.” He glanced at Jack, now gnawing on his toy, and when he looked at her again he was expressionless. The military blank face—Kinsey knew that well, too.
“I’ve had some shocks in the last two months,” he said then, all business again. “There were a lot of things the colonel didn’t tell me—first and foremost that my father was in the hospital. I had no idea anything was going on here. Then I got notified of his death, long after it had happened...”
That did not sit well with him because boy, could that handsome face scowl!
“Left on her own, without my dad around, the colonel...” He shook his head. “At work, at home, she’s always had subordinate staff to take care of things—she was a lawyer and then a judge—”
“Did she have help at home other than your dad?”
“No, at home my dad took care of everything.”
Which made him subordinate staff?
“The