Page 38 of Family Affair

Chapter 9

Coco fumed as she parked in front of Dan’s house. It took her an inordinate amount of time to get here from her office. Considering it would take her just as long to get back, she ran a danger to be late back from lunch and earn another reprimand. Aaron watched the clock like it was a time bomb.

Coco stepped over the low hanging chain marking the border of the lawn and marched through the grass to the door.

Even after having agreed to the meeting with Rosa, Coco harbored a lot of reservations about the success of their partnership. Nevertheless, at this point, she wasn’t going to show up for her six o’clock at the gallery without her art portfolio. And curse Dan for failing to return it to her. Twice.

Halfway through the lawn Coco realized she couldn’t see Dan’s car. That could mean he was either running late for their arranged meeting, or he parked in the garage.

She glanced at her watch, fervently hoping he had parked in the garage. Quickly mounting the steps, she pressed the doorbell button.

Tree seconds ticked past, then five, fifteen. Her spirits fell.

The door swung open without a sound, without warning, and Cade stood in front of her bathed in bright sunlight.

He’s so big…

His customary slouchy jeans and baggy shirts had given her an impression of average height and built, the effect augmented by his shaggy hairstyle.

He was wearing his customary jeans now, riding low on his hips, and no shirt. And that made all the difference in the world.

Cadewastall, at around six-one, maybe six-two, a thick framed male with a well-developed upper chest and tight stomach. For his frame, he could still be considered slim, almost rawboned, his muscles more ropy than bulging. He had scars on his torso, an ugly puckered one near his left collarbone, two with stitch marks under his right nipple, and a pale patch that looked like an old burn on his right side.

Coco stood there, dismayed. All this muscle, and the scars, and the dense dark hair covering his wide chest, the heat and suppressed energycouldn't beparts of the Cadewho brought her home from the vet clinic.

He cocked his head, otherwise holding himself very still, looking at her. His wet hair was slicked back leaving a widow’s peak visible above his high forehead. He didn’t smile, raise his brows or widen his eyes. Neither his facial expression nor his body posture changed, but Coco sensed he was as surprised to see her as she was to see him.

Coco’s emotions, already running high because of her forced trip to Dan’s house, kicked into overdrive. Against her will, her gaze slid from his face to the stark, prominent collarbones under his thick neck, giving her a sense of disorientation. Like in an alternate reality, he was Cade, Dan’s brother – and she didn’t recognize him.

“Hi,” she croaked and hastily cleared her throat. “I, um… is Dan home?”

“Come in,” he motioned for her to come inside and turned around leading the way, the muscles of his wide back shifting fluidly with his movements. He didn’t have visible tattoos except for a black cuff on his left forearm, a mix of leaves and thorns. “No, Dan isn’t home. Is he supposed to be?” He glanced at her over his shoulder.

Coco followed him inside and closed the door. The air-conditioned air felt freezing on her over-sensitive skin.

“He was supposed to meet me here…” she looked at her watch, “ten minutes ago. I’m actually late.”

“So, it seems, is he.” The corners of Cade’s wide sensual mouth lifted, as if he was just about to smile. “Hang on a sec. I’ll put on a shirt.”

Cade left her standing in the middle of Dan’s spacious living room dumbstruck and off balance. Sensual mouth? She must’ve suffered a heat stroke.

She took a deep breath and smoothed her skirt, noting with surprise that her palms had grown damp.

She should stop with this silliness. After all, seeing a naked male torso wasn’t anything to swoon over. He was built no different than all the other men on this planet. That’s right, just like every other man.

Cade walked in from one of the bedrooms wearing a long-sleeved tee. “Would you like some coffee?”

He was still barefoot.

“No, thank you. I can only spare five minutes, if that. I came for my art portfolio. Do you mind if I look around for it?”

“It’s right here.” He pointed to where the binder lay on the counter, opened.

“That was easy! Thanks.” She approached and looked at her own work, the page showing a watercolor of a creek running amidst sparkling snow, the first blossoms of snowdrops emerging to enjoy the cold winter sun.

“I looked through it. I didn’t know it was yours.”

“Whose did you think it was?” she teased, fighting the tight coil of awareness holding her bound. “Dan’s?”