Harlan groaned. He’d always wanted a tight-knit family. He’d always done his darnedest to make his sons feel welcome at White Pines, even after they’d gone on to lives of their own. It appeared he was going to live to regret not booting them all into another state. For the second time in a little more than an hour, he reminded himself to be very, very careful what he wished for in the future.

Janet took one look at the assembled members of Harlan Adams’s family as she drove up to the house on Monday and very nearly turned tail and ran. She didn’t have a doubt in the world that she and Jenny were the main attraction that had drawn them onto the porch at daybreak. All of the family, she guessed from the size of the gathering, right down to the youngest grandchild. Even her intrepid daughter seemed a little awed by all the attention riveted on them.

“Who are all those people and why are they staring at us?” Jenny asked, regarding the bunch of them warily.

“Now you know how Custer must have felt when he made his last stand,” Janet said dryly, then added, “My guess is they’re all here to try to figure out if we have designs on their father.”

“You mean like wanting to marry him or something?” Jenny asked, astonishment written all over her face.

“That would be my guess,” Janet confirmed.

Jenny’s mouth gaped. “You don’t, do you?”

“I don’t,” Janet said emphatically.

She wished she could speak with as much certainty about Harlan’s intentions. He was the first man in aeons who wasn’t the least bit put off by her prickly, independent nature. Even after she’d turned moody on him on Saturday, he’d remained flirtatious and placid.

In fact, if anything, the glint in his eyes burned even brighter in the face of her contrariness. He wanted her and that, in his opinion, was that. He clearly thought it was just a matter of time until he got his way.

Apparently his sons thought as much, too, or they wouldn’t be here this morning trying to check out the woman who’d caught their father’s eye.

“Go on and hop out,” she advised Jenny.

“You’re going to leave me here alone with them?” her daughter protested, clearly aghast at the prospect. “I don’t think so.”

“Jenny, I’m sure they’re all very nice people.”

“Then why are you running away?”

“Because they obviously have an agenda I don’t want to deal with,” she said.

She cast a quick look to see if she could turn her car around in this unoccupied corner of the driveway or if she was going to be forced to circle all the way around in front of the house, in front of all those fascinated, prying eyes.