LITMIR.BIZ

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glance at the front door, then forgot about leaving and went on with his quest.

      When he walked into the kitchen, the folks in there looked as surprised as they would have if lightning had struck the butcher-block work island in the center of the massive room.

      “Can I help you, Mr. Chance?”

      Grateful, he looked to the woman on his right. Mentally, he scrambled for her name and came up with it an instant later.

      “Ruby, right?” he asked.

      “That’s me,” the housekeeper said, giving him a nod sharp enough to shake loose a graying red curl from her topknot to lie askew in the middle of her forehead.

      In the few days he’d been in town, Chance had seen this woman running the Connelly household—and family, for that matter—with an iron fist. Grant and Emma might think they were in charge, but the truth was, Ruby was the brass around here.

      The short, slightly rounded woman with kind blue eyes had the ability to get things done, and Chance appreciated that. Even while keeping under radar, staying unnoticed himself. He’d seen how his half brothers and sisters scampered when Ruby gave an order. Hell, even his father, Grant, didn’t argue when she laid down the law.

      Clearly, she’d been in charge so long, she never even considered the possibility that people wouldn’t obey her without question. In the military, she might have made it to the Joint Chiefs of Staff. Here, she ran the Connelly household like a well-oiled machine and wouldn’t accept anything less.

      “Now, how can I help you?” she asked, snatching his attention as she would have the hand of a child inclined to wander off.

      Chance glanced around at the others clustered within hearing distance, reluctant to speak up with so many eager ears nearby. The housekeeper noticed and clapped her hands sharply. “What are you bunch staring at? Get about your business. Don’t you have drinks and canapés you could be serving?”

      They scattered like windblown leaves, and, in seconds, he was alone in the room with Ruby. “I’m impressed,” he said.

      “For running them off? Don’t be. I am sorry about them, though,” the woman said, with a shake of her head. “They’re day help for the party and their mamas apparently forgot to teach them any manners.”

      He smiled. “I have a feeling you’ll take care of that.”

      She straightened up and puffed out her chest. “I’ll do my best in the short time I have them,” she assured him. “So what is it you need, Mr. Chance?”

      He winced a little at the implied title. Now, people calling him “Commander,” he’d earned. He could even live with “Hey, sailor,” but “Mr. Chance”? No way. That was just way too highfalutin. “Just, Chance, all right?”

      One corner of her mouth twitched, but she only nodded. “Chance it is, then.” She studied him for a long minute, then said, “You know, you’ve the look of your father around the eyes. More so than your brother does.”

      Chance shifted uncomfortably. He didn’t necessarily want to be reminded that he looked like the man who’d managed to ignore both him and his brother their whole lives. What was he supposed to say to that, anyway? Thank you didn’t seem appropriate somehow. So he ignored the comment entirely.

      After all, it wasn’t as if he’d come here looking to find family. He already had his family. Douglas. With the death of their mother, all they had left was each other. And that had always been enough before.

      The only reason he was here at all was as a favor to Doug. And if he hadn’t been shot by that sneaky little terrorist on his last mission, he wouldn’t have had to put up with any of the pomp and circumstance surrounding the Connellys. But then, he wouldn’t have been here to ride to Jennifer’s rescue, either, would he?

      And that thought returned him to why he’d come to the kitchen in the first place.

      “Any chance I could get a glass of water and a box of tissues?” he asked.

      Ruby narrowed her eyes thoughtfully as she looked at him. “Feel a crying jag coming on, do you?”

      Chance played along. “Yes, ma’am. I’m feeling real emotional.”

      She snorted. “Yeah, I can see that.” But without another word, she bustled around the room and came back with just what he’d asked for. As he turned to leave the room, though, her voice stopped him. “You tell Jennifer for me that everything’s going to be all right.”

      He looked at her. Shouldn’t be surprised, he thought. He’d already discovered that nothing much went on around here that Ruby didn’t know about. “What?”

      “I’ve been with the Connellys for more years than I care to admit. Not much gets past me. I know there’s something wrong.”

      Nodding, he told her, “You would have made a good admiral.”

      “Phooey,” she said, waving one hand to dismiss him. “Admirals are small stuff. I’d have made a good president.”

      “You know something?” he said, giving her a wink, “I believe you.” Then he slipped from the room before she could give him any orders he’d be too afraid not to follow.

      “Oh, this is good,” Jennifer told herself aloud as she clutched the balcony railing and stared out at Lake Michigan. “Way to ensure your employment, Jen.” Shaking her head, she blinked back tears that still threatened and solemnly vowed they wouldn’t fall. She’d already screwed up big-time.

      What had she been thinking? Crying on the shoulder of the guest of honor at her employer’s party. The one time she indulged in a good old-fashioned pity party, she had to be caught by Mr. Tall, Dark and Dangerous.

      “For goodness’ sake,” she grumbled, tightening her grip on the cold iron railing. She lifted her face into the wind sweeping in off the lake and told herself that if she was very lucky, the newest addition to the Connelly family would keep her embarrassing behavior to himself.

      Although, for all she knew he was inside now, trying to get Emma to come out and comfort her, readily handing off the crazed secretary to someone else. She could almost imagine him, stalking through the party, heading for the front door as fast as he could. And she couldn’t really blame him, either.

      What man wanted to be a human tissue for a weeping woman? Especially one he hardly knew.

      Behind her, the glass door slid open, allowing a brief pulse of conversation and piano music onto the balcony, and in an instant, the door closed again, sealing off the intrusion.

      She didn’t turn around. She didn’t have to. She knew who it was. She felt his presence almost as an electrical charge. Her nerve endings hummed and the hairs at the back of her neck stood straight up.

      Probably not a good sign.

      “Sorry I took so long,” he said and darned if his voice didn’t scrape along those already tense nerves.

      Get a grip, Jen. He’s your boss’s stepson. He’s a stranger. He doesn’t give a damn about your problems and there’s nothing between you but an embarrassing crying jag.

      So why was her stomach suddenly in knots and her breath coming fast and hard?

      Because you’re an idiot, she told herself just before turning to look at him.

      Well, that didn’t help any. He was just too darned good-looking, that was the problem. He looked like a poster boy for navy recruiting. Or like one of those navy lawyers on that television show. His uniform shone a bright white against the backdrop of the blue lake and shimmering April sky. The ribbons decorating his chest drew her eye as did the SEAL pin he wore proudly. Then she looked farther up, into his eyes, and saw…concern. And that nearly did her in on the spot.

      Darn it.

      “You okay?” he asked.

      “Oh,

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