“Why aren’t you the right person?”

She stared at a point on his chest, her fingers clenched in her lap and then finally lifted her head and looked at him. “Because I killed my sister. She died because of me.”

Chapter Seven

Seven

“She’s asleep,” Ryan said, standing in the doorway. He’d spent the whole day and the whole evening taking care of things, and judging from the absence of complaint from Lizzy, he’d handled bedtime with the same cool competence he’d displayed on the beach.

“I usually read to her.”

“She told me. Green Eggs and Ham.” He gave a short laugh. “It’s been a while, but I’m still word perfect. And she recognized quite a few words, so whatever you’ve been doing has made a difference even in a short time. She’s asleep now. She’s exhausted.”

And she knew she had him to thank for that.

He’d distracted Lizzy with a game in the garden that involved so much running with the ball and the dog she’d worn herself out. When she was almost falling asleep on the spot he’d made supper, enrolling Lizzy in helping him. He’d stood her on a chair at the scrubbed kitchen table and shown her how to break eggs into a bowl.

From her position on the sofa, Emily had watched through the open door as Lizzy had smacked each egg on the side of the bowl and paused as golden yoke and slippery white had slid and pooled in the center. There had been two accidents, and each time he’d cleaned up and let her try again. Plenty of adults would have opted to do the job themselves. Not Ryan. He’d stood, infinitely patient, and let her master the task until the carton of eggs was empty and the bowl filled with yolks that floated like small suns on the translucent liquid.

Then he’d handed Lizzy a whisk and demonstrated the movement. When it had proven too hard, he’d covered her small hand with his and did it with her until they had a frothy mixture. It didn’t seem to bother him that he could have done it himself in a quarter of the time.

The part that involved heat, he’d done himself.

He’d stood in front of the stove in Kathleen’s sunny kitchen, sleeves rolled back to reveal powerful forearms as he poured the mixture into a pan and produced a perfect omelet.

She’d wondered how she could be noticing he was sexy at a time like this. Apparently she was more vulnerable to the appeal of the strong protective type than she’d thought.