Roz Fox - Welcome To My Family

That was Matt’s opinion. But Kat’s other two brothers, Josh and Mark, were nodding in agreement.

“‘Spectacle’ is a pretty strong word,” Kat said. Or maybe not… She remembered Slater’s kiss. Oh, boy, did she remember it! While she debated whether or not to defend her right to kiss whomever she chose, Matt got into the act again.

“Slater Kowalski’s after more than kisses, and we all know that. He wants to pilfer Pop’s engineering secrets, so he’s hitting on Kathleen. I say it’s time we teach that Ridge jerk to keep his hands off Hill women.”

The noise level rose as all three brothers and their wives entered into the argument. Kat finally declared enough. Pulling an umpire’s whistle from her pocket, she blew as hard as she could.

Having gained their notice, Kat crossed her arms. “As you’re all so free with your opinions, listen to mine. Little Kathleen is all grown up, in case you hadn’t noticed. And Slater Kowalski is not a jerk.” Kat glared around at the stunned faces. “I’m going out with him on Saturday night. A real date, unconnected to work. And it’s none of your business. So kindly butt out.”

Dear Reader,

I don’t come from a large boisterous family. But I always wanted one. I love the dynamics and the interaction, the warmth and the caring. So I’ve given my heroine such a family. If you’ve read my previous books, you know I like ordinary people who live in close-knit communities and work at everyday jobs. Therefore I was delighted when my editor asked me to write a story for the new HOMETOWN U.S.A. promotion in Superromance.

Slater Kowalski and Kathleen O’Halloran could live next door to you or me. Because those of us who come from small towns and work at ordinary jobs sometimes think our lives are boring, I’ve allowed this couple quite an adventure…filled with kites and clouds, kayaks and automobiles. But also romance and mystery! I hope you steal away with Kat and Slater for a while to share their exploits, meet their families and experience their love.

Roz Denny Fox

P.S. I love hearing from readers. Write me at P.O. Box 17480-101, Tucson, Arizona 85731

SUPERROMANCE

649—MAJOR ATTRACTION

672—CHRISTMAS STAR

686—THE WATER BABY

716—TROUBLE AT LONE SPUR

746—SWEET TIBBY MACK

776—ANYTHING YOU CAN DO…

800—HAVING IT ALL

821—MAD ABOUT THE MAJOR

847— “Silver Anniversary” in THE LYON LEGACY

859—FAMILY FORTUNE

Welcome to My Family

Roz Denny Fox

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To Bernie Sadowski and his lovely wife, Rita.

For their wonderfully positive outlook on life.

For Bernie’s stories about his old hometown, and about his dad and the men who made automobiles. They inspired me.

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

EPILOGUE

THUNDER RUMBLED OVERHEAD. In the distance, lightning cut a jagged swath across the Michigan night sky. Kathleen O’Halloran smoothed a hand over the soft coat of the dog beside her—a young black Labrador retriever who’d just begun to whine. The continual downpour made it difficult to see the road, especially through the waterfall cascading from the tips of two kayaks she had lashed to the top of her aging Isuzu Trooper.

“We picked a beaut of a night to come home, didn’t we, Poseidon?” Kat murmured, kicking her lights up to high beam. She slowed to a crawl. Storms worried the dog. Made him restless. Not surprising. Kat had rescued him from a half-submerged log during a bad squall six months back. Hard to say how long he’d been riding the waves. She’d run advertisements in her San Juan Island newspaper and posted numerous handbills around the resort where she’d worked as recreational director. No one had come forward to claim the beautiful dog. He and she had become fast friends. Kat’s long trek home from Washington State through the March wind and rain would have been far less tolerable without him.

Certainly she’d enjoyed her freedom out West—who in her place wouldn’t if they’d had her bad luck of being the youngest and only girl in a long progression of know-it-all engineers? She often threatened to call herself a recreational engineer just to get recognition in the family. But, the truth was, this past year Kat had grown increasingly more homesick in spite of Poseidon’s company.

Her fingers tightened in the animal’s fur. Perhaps her sister-in-law Mary was right when she’d argued last month that blood took precedence over independence. Pop had the whole family in such a tizzy, at least maybe now Kat’s brothers wouldn’t have time to mess with her love life—assuming any love interest popped out of the woodwork. Kat’s family had made sure to keep her apprised of her classmates’ weddings. She disliked thinking of herself shelved at twenty-six. But her mother and brothers sure seemed to believe it.

“Uh-oh. Looks like a stranded motorist up ahead.” Kat touched her brakes and held her breath against the slight shiver of the precariously balanced kayaks. “Take it easy, Horatio.” Her pet name for the vehicle slipped out as she concentrated on her driving. She hadn’t seen another car since entering this shortcut. Three years ago, when she’d left Flintridge, only locals used this road. Had that changed?

The car parked on the right shoulder was big and dark. Its hood was raised. As Kat cruised past, her headlights outlined a man wearing light gray slacks and a white shirt plastered to his body by the driving rain. The wind whipped a narrow tie over his left shoulder.

She pulled over a hundred yards down the road and stopped, chewing her lower lip. All the dire warnings aimed at women travelers flashed through her mind. Mama, especially, was big on passing along such dangers whenever she phoned. Of course, the rapes and murders Maureen O’Halloran recounted weren’t even close to Flintridge. Nevertheless, there was always a first, and it might be awaiting Kat this very minute.

She backed up slowly, trying to gain a better look at the motorist in her rearview mirror. After all, she wasn’t stupid. Few rapists looked the part.

About then, the man straightened and braced himself against the wind. Kat noted that the deluge had flattened blond hair in what was probably a fifty-dollar haircut across his forehead. From what she could see, he was moderately good-looking. Not a pretty-boy with that stubborn jaw. But clean-cut enough to pass her mother’s inspection. Kat set her brake and slid the gearshift into park.

That was when she noticed the car’s dealer license plates. Automobile salesman, no doubt. She knew the type. Dandies who worked out in health clubs and dressed for success to give themselves an edge with the ladies. By the time Kat decided to offer help, she had the driver of the stalled car pegged right down to his Cole-Haan loafers and the snowy handkerchief he used to scrub grease off his fingers.

“This one seems harmless enough, Poseidon,” she murmured, reassuring herself more than the dog. Flipping on her four-way flashers, Kat shrugged into a bright yellow rain slicker she kept in the car. “Stay, boy,” she commanded, opening the door. But for an animal who cowered from storms, this one exhibited uncharacteristic behavior and suddenly bolted into the midst of it. Barking wildly, he splashed through a series of dirty puddles, then took a flying leap at the stranger.

“Poseidon, no!” Kat shouted. “Oh, my Lord.” She dashed after her pet and caught him moments after he’d muddied the man’s white shirt. It took considerable muscle to force the dog down. Amid garbled apologies, she dragged him back to her vehicle and stuffed him inside. “Shame on you. Bad dog.”

The dog nearly escaped again as Kat leaned in to straighten the blanket that covered her seats. Following another stern reminder to behave, he flopped down, looking guilty. His tail drooped. Kat heaved a sigh, rubbed his ears, then closed the door firmly.

“Hey, I’m really sorry,” she said, returning to the motorist. “Did he bite you?”

The man settled unfocused blue eyes on her, frowning as if she were an apparition, and definitely an unwelcome one.

Kat winced at his expression—and the muddy paw prints. “I’ll pay to have your shirt laundered. My dog isn’t…fond of men.”

“Not fond of them? Damned animal almost licked me to death. I hope you don’t think he’s a guard dog.”

Partly in deference to her mother’s advice, and partly because of his attitude, Kat bristled. “No telling what that animal would do if I was in danger. Kill, maybe. So you’d better not try any funny business. Are you out of gas or something?” she asked, nodding at his car.

Slater Kowalski gaped at the dark-haired, dark-eyed pixie, who, for all he knew, could be telling the truth about her dog’s potential to kill on command. But why was she acting snippy? He was the victim here. He hadn’t flagged her down.

Then, because the woman and her ill-mannered mutt were the last straw at the end of a rotten week, Slater turned and kicked his car’s front tire. Not feeling any better, he smacked a hand on the sleek, wet fender. A fender representing the aerodynamic pinnacle of the future. On a car of his own design. So why couldn’t his team of engineers make the damn thing run?

His anger drained as it occurred to Slater that the woman was probably questioning his sanity. “I’m not out of gas,” he said wearily. “She doesn’t even use conventional gas.”

“Ah.” Kat wiped the rain from her eyes. “I see. Diesel,” she stated flatly. “They can be cantankerous if you get water in the fuel lines. All this rain.” She shrugged expansively. “I suppose I can give you a lift into town. Poseidon won’t bite…unless I’m threatened,” she added for good measure.

Was she kidding? Leave his million-dollar baby? Walk away from his precious prototype on which the future of Flintridge Motors rested? “Uh…no thanks.” Slater knew his refusal sounded stiff. “It’s not diesel, either. But I really can’t leave her out here.”

Kat couldn’t believe anyone in his predicament would be so stubborn. “I’m sure she represents a hunk of cash to your employer,” she said, using the feminine pronoun as he had—the way her dad and brothers all did when discussing automobiles.

“Be reasonable,” Kat continued, glancing pointedly up and down the road. “This isn’t exactly a thoroughfare. She’ll be safe here until you can round up a tow truck.”

The man continued to shake his head, and Kat watched his transparent shirt move like a second skin against lean muscles. Quite suddenly she found it difficult to breathe. Darn, she’d always been a sucker for the well-toned look of a runner. And this guy had it all—except brains, obviously. Exasperated, Kat deliberately stuck her head beneath the black car’s hood. “I’ve got a pretty decent toolbox with me. What are her symptoms? If you’re not using gas or diesel, then what? Methanol? She looks too heavy for meth. Are you getting spark from the ignition? Have you tried starting her again? Could be vapor lock, you know.”