Tiffany, too, had taken the time to release her ponytail and apply lipstick. Her glossy black hair framed her face which, aside from the touch of lipstick, was devoid of makeup. Nonetheless she was a striking woman. No doubt about it. With high cheekbones, pointed chin, straight nose and those golden eyes accentuated with thick, curling lashes, she had a way of making a man notice her. Add to the already fine-featured eyebrows that arched so perfectly they appeared arrogant and the image was complete.

“Are you Daddy’s brother?” Christina asked. Her eyes rounded as if she’d just made the connection.

“That’s right.”

“Daddy’s in heaven,” the imp said so matter-of-factly it was almost chilling.

“I know.” J.D.’s jaw tightened.

“He’s not coming back.”

He exchanged glances with Tiffany and her eyes warned him to be careful. “I know that, too.”

“Are you staying in a ’partment?”

“For a while,” he said and felt more than a trace of guilt.

“How come?”

Good question. He noticed Tiffany stiffen, the tremulous smile on her lips freezing. “Uncle Jay is here on business—for his work—and . . . he decided to visit us.”

“That’s right,” J.D. said, mentally noting that it really wasn’t a lie. “But I’ll be in town awhile.”

Tiffany’s mouth tightened a little.

Bored with the conversation, Christina wriggled and Tiffany set her on the ground. “You know, Jay, I still can’t picture you working for your dad. You were always . . . well . . . you know.”

“The black sheep, the son who swore he’d never work for his old man, the guy who did everything he could to keep his distance from anything remotely associated with Santini Brothers Enterprises.”

His off-center smile was a little self-deprecating and his eyes, gray as evening clouds, darkened as if a summer storm were gathering in his soul. Tiffany tried not to notice. She’d been caught in the web of those eyes before and wouldn’t make that mistake again. She couldn’t. He tipped his bottle back and drained it. “As I said before, the prodigal had a change of heart because his older brother died.” The grin fell from his face.

She folded her arms over her chest and sighed. “Life has changed for us all.”

“Hasn’t it, though?” His gaze touched hers so intimately she shivered, then looked away.

“So what’s going on with Stephen?”

If only I knew. “He’s nearly fourteen.”

“And already in trouble with the law.”

“Nothing serious,” she countered, ready to defend her son against anyone and anything, including his uncle if need be. Rather than meet the questions in his gaze, she went to the back porch, grabbed a broom and swept up the remnants of Christina’s mud pie.

“Looks serious to me.” J.D. followed her and rolled his bottle between his palms.

“You should know about being a rebellious youth.”