Ryan's Return Read Free

flowers, the proud gleam of the grandfather clock that chimed out the hours with relentless predictability. Looking around, she knew she could count on this house, on the things she had surrounded herself with. She could be happy here.
    Kara passed by the living room, the formal dining room where she served breakfast in the morning and dinner in the evening, the alcove where she set up cocktails at dusk, and the carefully carved staircase that wound up to the second and third floors, a pattern of diamonds and hearts decorating the railing.
    At the back of the house was a large country kitchen with an adjoining breakfast room on one side and a sun porch on the other. The kitchen, with its oak cabinets, large center island, and decorative brass pots, was where she spent most of her time, filling the house with the scents of ginger and cinnamon.
    Kara had just entered the kitchen when she heard the front door open then slam shut, characteristic of her eleven-year-old daughter. But it wasn't Angel who called out to her.
    "Kara?" A man's voice rang through the house.
    "I'm in the kitch -- "
    Andrew Hunter threw open the kitchen door before she finished speaking. A tall man in his mid-thirties, Andrew was attractive in a clean-cut way with short brown hair, matching brown eyes, a smoothly shaved face, and neatly pressed clothes.
    Andrew was a nine-to-five kind of man, one who would never take an extra minute for lunch, never call long distance on a company phone, and never kiss a woman unless he asked first. Kara found that trait comforting, as safe and warm as the house and the town she had come to cherish.
    But Andrew also seemed to be a man who thought too much and said too little. Kara suspected that one day the words would burst out of him and his emotions would spill forth like the river after a nasty rain. She just hadn't anticipated being the target.
    "I can't believe it," Andrew said. "I can't believe you asked my brother to come to the centennial. Are you out of your mind?"
    Andrew ran a hand through his hair in frustration. His eyes reflected anger and uncertainty. He looked like a man who had just found out a murderer was being released in his hometown.
    Kara took a step back from him and placed her hands on the cool brown-and-white tiles of her kitchen counter. She had expected Andrew to be upset, but she hadn't expected to see such a look of betrayal in his eyes.
    "Andrew, calm down," she said. "This isn't personal. It's business. I think Ryan can help us."
    Andrew looked at her in amazement. "My God, Kara, you don't know what you've done." Andrew sat down at the oak table in the breakfast room. He rested his head on his hands, no longer angry but defeated.
    The other members of the centennial committee had warned Kara that Ryan Hunter could be a problem, but the advantages of inviting him to participate had seemed to outweigh the disadvantages. At least until now.
    She knew Andrew and Ryan had been mixed up with some woman years ago. Rumors of the old love triangle still made their way around town in between the daily gossip about Loretta and her fatherless baby, Aunt Josephine's true hair color, and who had spiked the punch at the high school dance.
    But Ryan had left town twelve years ago. There had been a lot of water under Tucker's Bridge since then.
    After a moment Kara joined Andrew at the table. "Think about it," she said, putting a hand over his. "Ryan is a celebrity. He's just the draw we need to sell tickets for the centennial dinner."
    Andrew lifted his head and looked her straight in the eye. "Ryan is a troublemaker. You should have told me, Kara. I thought we were friends -- more than friends."
    Andrew's gaze challenged her to reply, to admit the feelings they had yet to discuss. But that was the problem. They didn't talk about their feelings, about what mattered to them. Maybe that's why she was holding back on an intimate relationship. She wanted to be with a man who would tell her everything.
    Kara