“Santanas!” She stopped, her dark braids whipping back and forth. Smiling, she uninhibitedly showed her braces. “Whoops.” The quick exclamation trailed off as Lee was treated to a long intense stare that was hauntingly familiar. The girl stuck her hands in the pockets of cutoff jeans, scuffing the ground with battered sneakers. “Well, hi.” Her gaze shifted to Hunter briefly before it focused on Lee again. “I guess you wonder what I’m doing here.”

“We’ll get into that later,” Hunter said in a tone both females recognized as basic male annoyance.

“Hunter—” Lee drew farther away, traces of anger and anxiety working their way through the confusion. She couldn’t bring herself to look away from the dark, dark eyes of the girl who stared at her. “What’s going on here?”

“Apparently a lesson in manners should be,” he returned easily. “Lenore, the creature currently sniffing at your hand is Santanas, my dog.” At the gesture of his hand, the large, lean animal sat and lifted a friendly paw. Dazed, Lee found herself taking it while she turned to watch the dog’s master. She saw Hunter’s gaze travel beyond her with a smile that held both irony and pride. “The girl rudely staring at you is Sarah. My daughter.”

Chapter 10

Daughter … Sarah …

Lee turned her head to meet the dark, direct eyes that were a duplicate of Hunter’s. Yes, they were a duplicate. It struck her like a blast of air. He had a child? This lovely, slender girl with a tender mouth and braids secured by mismatched rubber bands was Hunter’s daughter? So many opposing emotions moved through her that she said nothing. Nothing at all.

“Sarah.” Hunter spoke into the drumming silence. “This is Ms. Radcliffe.”

“Sure, I know, the reporter. Hi.”

Still sitting on the ground, with the dog now sniffing around her shoulder, Lee felt like a complete fool. “Hello.” She hoped the word wasn’t as ridiculously formal as it sounded to her.

“Dad said I shouldn’t call you pretty because pretty was like a bowl of fruit.” Sarah didn’t tilt her head as one might to study from a new angle, but Lee had the impression she was being weighed and dissected like a still life. “I like your hair,” Sarah declared. “Is it a real color?”

“A definite lesson in manners,” Hunter put in, more amused than annoyed. “I’m afraid Sarah’s a bit of a brat.”

“He always says that.” Sarah moved thin, expressive shoulders. “He doesn’t mean it, though.”

“Until today.” He ruffled the dog’s fur, wondering just how he would handle the situation. Lee was still silent, and Sarah’s eyes were all curiosity. “Take Santanas back to the house. I assume Bonnie’s there.”