Publisher's Synopsis
Tucker worked out in the huge metal arena, with the dogs he trained for the police and for the military, until half-past twelve. Clare had said last night that it would be after one o'clock before 'help' could get there. Well, he was no dummy... her wording... was irksome. He knew with certainty his sister was now on a plane headed to Guatemala with a big silly grin plastered on her face. Short of piling three children into his truck last night, after her mid-night call, and driving down to Corpus Christi... there was nothing he could do about it. What form this 'help' would come in, still remained to be seen. Clare was known for some harebrained ideas. But this time there was too much at stake for these kids. Since his S.O.S. Saturday night, he hadn't had to worry about the impassioned arguments between them, or the resulting tears, or even any disobedience. It was like they had all decided to become turtles and crawl into their own shells to grieve. Tucker looked out the big window in the living room and saw a new Ford SUV pull in and stop. No one got out. He could just make out a mass of blond hair and almost groaned. He had been hoping for gray, motherly, experienced. He had been hoping Clare had used some sense this time. By the time he had gone down the front steps, the driver was slowly emerging and still gazing in wonder in the direction of the house. Tucker stopped in his tracks. Oh Clare! No wonder there wasn't any gray hair. 'Help' looked about sixteen, tall, trim, and not a bit motherly! He took a few cautious steps forward, and finally she turned soft blue eyes in his direction and staggered him in one startled look. Ha, Clare had hood-winked her too! Well that was good to know. He advanced closer and stopped with his hands on his lean hips. Lori saw the breadth of his shoulders, the soft black hair, and the laughter in his dark brown eyes and felt like a fool. Because idiot just wouldn't cover this disaster. He was over six feet by a few inches, and his warm camo-jacket couldn't hide the muscles she knew were under there. Reeves was blazoned on his left chest pocket but it should have read... Run! Lori narrowed her eyes and that small action brought a rich male laughter out in full force. "So... who is my sister really sending to help?" ""What makes you think it isn't me?" Lori looked at him with a wealth of exasperation. "Oh I don't know... it could be... any number of things. How old are you? Have you any experience with children? Can you even cook? Take your pick." Tucker couldn't stop the laughter... what was Clare thinking? "Well, I will admit to only two of your three pre-requisites. I am twenty-five, currently I am a pastry chef, but I only specialized this last year. Before that I was the head chef for two years at Shells, in Corpus Christi. You may have heard of it? And for a man so desperate... two out of three shouldn't be laughed at!" Lori tossed her mass of glossy blond hair back over her shoulder and waited. "Hmmm, I see the one thing you won't admit to... is no experience with children. No wonder." Oh my lord, he was going to have her so mad in a minute, she would take care of Clare for him! But he kept laughing as she went to the back door of the vehicle and jerked it open. A minute later she held out a very elaborate fairy-wand decorated with small colored ribbons streaming down. LED lights were flashing on the wings delicately adorning the end and her look could have said the rest. Had she not taken pleasure in pointing out the obvious. "I know better than to come within a hundred miles of glitter!" "Well I know that now! There are three of them you know? But I will admit that sometimes it seems like more!" Tucker looked at her shaking his head. This was impossible... he couldn't even consider it. Why his mind was screaming warnings faster than he could take them in.
