From the Heart

tolerate your disruptive influence on my granddaughter.”
    “I was under the impression that Alison was Jordan’s ward.” What am I doing? Kasey thought abruptly. I’m putting Alison right between us. I’m putting her right in the middle. “Mrs. Taylor,” she began, searching for a way to ease the tension for the child’s sake.
    “What’s going on?” Jordan came through the drawing room doorway. He’d heard the argument the moment he’d stepped out of his study.
    “This woman,” his mother began, turning to him, “is insufferably rude.”
    Jordan lifted a brow. “Kasey?” he asked turning to her.
    “Probably,” she agreed and tried to relax her muscles.
    “Miss Wyatt took it upon herself to disappear with Alison for the entire afternoon, then had the effrontery to criticize me when I expressed concern.”
    Jordan, caught between amusement and annoyance, studied Kasey again. “Been busy, have you?”
    “We only went Christmas shopping, Uncle Jordan.” Alisoncame down half the stairs in a rush, then stopped when her grandmother turned to her.
    “This is none of your concern, Alison. Go back up to your room.”
    “I don’t think that’s necessary.” Jordan stepped around his mother and held out a hand to Alison. She dashed down the rest of the stairs. “Well, you appear relatively unharmed. Did you have a good time?”
    “It was wonderful.” Alison grinned up at him. “We went to McFarden’s.”
    “Really?” Jordan shot a look at Kasey. He knew her well enough to see beyond the careless front. She was raging inside and, he thought curiously, hurting. What had been said, he wondered, before he had come upon them? He smiled at her, wanting to soothe her. “You might have asked me to go along.”
    Kasey was working to control her temper. She knew very well anger wasn’t the way to handle Beatrice Taylor. And handling Beatrice Taylor would be necessary if she wanted to keep things smooth for Alison. It helped to see Alison standing under Jordan’s arm.
    “You were working,” she returned. “And I didn’t think the idea of tramping through shops would appeal to you.”
    “Kasey bought you a present, Uncle Jordan.”
    “Did she?” He drew the child to his side, but his eyes were on Kasey’s.
    “Chocolate cookies,” Kasey told him. “Alison thought they were pretty.”
    “Obviously you intend to treat this matter lightly.” Beatrice spoke again.
    “Mother. There’s nothing here to be concerned about. Alison’s fine.”
    “Very well.” She nodded, then brushed by him to mount the stairs.
    Kasey looked down at Alison, who was watching her grandmother’s retreating back. “I’m sorry, Uncle Jordan. I didn’t know Grandmother would be upset. She wasn’t here when we left, and we told Millicent, in case you wondered where we were.”
    “You haven’t done anything.” He bent and kissed hercheek. “Your grandmother’s probably a bit tired after her luncheon today, that’s all. She needs to rest awhile. Why don’t you take these packages up for Kasey?”
    Alison gathered up boxes. “I’ll bring wrapping paper to your room.”
    “Thanks.” Children spring back quickly, she noted. Alison was already more concerned with the presents than with her grandmother’s annoyance.
    Jordan put his hands on Kasey’s shoulders as Alison disappeared up the steps. “Shall I apologize, too?” he asked quietly as he soothed the remaining tension from her muscles.
    Kasey shook her head. “No.” She sighed. She was aware that it was Beatrice’s dislike of her which had caused the confrontation. She felt responsible. “I’ve put you in a bad position. Alison, too. I never meant to, Jordan.”
    “Let me handle my mother,” he told her. “I’ve been doing it for a long time. And next time you go off for an afternoon,” he added, “invite me. I might have found tramping through shops and a hamburger appealing.”
    “All right.” She smiled, steadying. “Next time I will.”
    He started to pull her close, then stopped. His brows drew together. “Chocolate cookies?”

11
    K asey paused in the drawing room doorway. She’d taken her time dressing for the dance at Jordan’s club, wanting to be certain Beatrice was gone before she came downstairs.
    Standing there, she had a moment to study Jordan unobserved as he mixed drinks at the bar. Formal dress—the stark black and white, the perfect tailoring—suited him. He moves well, she thought, a man used to elegant clothes