Victoria Pade – The Marine Makes His Match (страница 2)

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 point is,” Sutter continued, “my dad looked after everything around here. Including the colonel. Without him, the house, the yard, have gone downhill. And so has she. She’s always tended to hole up, get lost in her books, the journal she’ll probably turn into a memoir one day or her old war movie DVDs.”

Sutter shook his head in what seemed like some frustration. “She doesn’t cook, never has—so as far as I can tell all she’s been eating are cheese puffs and candy bars, and not much of those. She hasn’t kept the house up at all.”

“I would imagine your mother spent a lot of time at the hospital with your father while he was there,” Kinsey said. “Tough to keep up on home maintenance and do that, too.”

“Sure. But my dad died two months ago. When I got home, no one had checked the mail in weeks. There were condolence floral arrangements dead in their vases outside the front door. The refrigerator had rotten food in it.”

“Did she forget about those things?” Kinsey asked in case what they were discussing was the onset of dementia or Alzheimer’s.

He knew what she was asking, though, because he said, “The colonel is as sharp as she’s always been. It isn’t that. She’s slowed down over the years but she doesn’t have any major physical or cognitive problems. This is more about her needing to...”

He raised both hands in frustration. “She needs to change!” he said.

His movements gave Jack just enough freedom to jump down. The adorable puppy went to the basket of toys, ignored its contents and instead began waging war against the basket itself, dragging it into the center of the room. Sutter left him to it.

“I have people coming in to clean the house, to work on the yard. I can set up automatic payment for the bills, set up a grocery delivery. But without my dad, she’ll just keep herself cut off from everything outside of her den—I think some nights she doesn’t even bother to go up to her bedroom to sleep. She didn’t let in anyone who came to pay respects after my dad passed—she wouldn’t even come to the door.”

“Everyone reacts to grief in their own way,” Kinsey offered.

“Sure, but this isn’t grief, it’s how she’s always been. Day-to-day life has never been what she deals with. Her work, the military—that’s been it for her. Except for me and my dad.”

“And now with your dad gone, there’s just you,” Kinsey said.

“And I’m on extended leave until my shoulder heals, but then I need to rejoin my unit in Afghanistan. I can’t leave her the way she’s been living.”

Kinsey nodded her understanding.

“Somebody has to convince her to take better care of herself. Maybe if someone other than me, someone with some professional medical standing, gets on her about it, it’ll bring it home to her.”

“I can do that,” Kinsey assured.

“And she needs a network of support. She has to have people in her life, whether she knows it or admits it or not. She has to have human contact and she certainly won’t go find it for herself.”