Paradise for a Sinner Read Free Page B

children. Heaven knew his own daughters tried that ploy often enough, but the girl’s emotion seemed genuine.
    “I didn’t mean to make her cry,” Joe said. “You are welcome to visit, but no more mouth about your cousins or Aunt Nell, you hear.”
    “Perhaps, the princess could take Titi from her crate and give her some water and a short walk while we talk,” Clive Brinsley said. “Go along, Anastasia. Get her lead and let her out. Think of something other than yourself.”
    Anastasia accepted a clean handkerchief from her butler and patted her face dry. She turned to the mound of luggage. Teddy wheeled up beside her. “I can help you.”
    “What could you possibly do?” The girl, a trifle older, looked down on him.
    “Lots of things. I can already read Harry Potter. We could tie her leash to my chair and just roll along together—if someone will help me down the front steps.”
    Adam simply lifted the chair and the boy and set them on the ground, only two easy steps for him, one from the doorway and one off the verandah, but impossible for Teddy. “Thank you, sir,” he said politely.
    “You’re a good kid, Teddy,” Adam replied gruffly, implying by his expression that the other child was not.
    The girl took a leash, a plastic dish and a water bottle from a carry-on bag and opened the little dog’s crate. The animal bounded into her arms and lavished affection with a small pink tongue, wiping away the remnants of the salty tears.
    “Can I hold her while you pour the water? I’m a good holder.”
    “I guess so.” Anastasia placed the pup into his lap where Titi gave him an identical welcome.
    The limo driver lurked beside the passenger door of his black vehicle. “I guess that’s all the luggage.” He made no move to leave.
    Adam glanced back at the mansion with its tall, white pillars a la Scarlet O’Hara. None of the other adults still stood in the open doorway. Apparently, his babysitting days were not over. He took out his wallet and plastered two twenties in the driver’s hand. “That do it?”
    “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. Aren’t you Adam Malala? I know this is Joe Dean Billodeaux’s place. They use our service sometimes, but this is my first trip here. These your children or his?” He held out his receipt book hopefully, and Adam gave him an autograph.
    “No and no. Guests.” As if his own children if he ever had any would be so light-skinned.
    “Oh, must be one of the crips Joe works with, but that other one is a piece of work, let me tell you.” The driver made that statement as if little kids had no ears.
    That irritated Adam no end, especially on Teddy’s behalf. “You’d better get going,” he said in a way that caused opposing players to beware and made the man step lively to the other side of the car.
    “I need someone to open the gate again.”
    “I got it. You two don’t go anywhere until I get back, okay?”
    Both children nodded as they watched Titi lapping water as if it were dog ambrosia. Adam headed straight for the kitchen as the limo sailed down the long drive. He forgot about the dog, the huge one. Macho bowled him over and skittered for the open front door. How humiliating for a Pro Bowl cornerback. Adam dashed across a devastated kitchen: milk jug spilled on the floor, cookie packet empty, sandwich plates, one broken, knocked down and licked clean. He hit the button, swiveled, and turned on the speed as he raced back to avert another disaster.
    Macho beat him to the entry and plummeted down the steps right to the water dish. Titi squeaked. Macho barked once sharply. He sniffed under the intruder’s feathery tail, then moved to the other end of the little fur ball and touched his big, wet nose to the little black button that protruded from the mound of fluffy hair. Adam stooped to pick up a landscaping stone from the flowerbed. Seeing that monster eat the bit of fluff would not be good for the children. Before he could chuck his rock at Macho, the top dog