Excerpt from Secret Sins In the Dorn house, Father Lannigan got to his feet. "I'd better be going. The two of you are probably tired and want some time to yourselves. I'll be out tomorrow to discuss the will, but feel free to call if you need anything in the meantime, Kiran, Steve." Kiran smiled as best she could as she saw the priest out. The last thing she needed was to be alone with Steve. It was going to be a long, awkward night, but one that had to be gotten through if they were going to settle the estate, such as it was. Closing the front door, she walked back into the shabbily furnished den and forced herself to meet Steve's gaze. "What?" he demanded. As if he weren't staring at her. "Nothing," she shot back, instantly irritated by his attitude. He acted like this den was his kingdom, for crying out loud, and she'd just trespassed. Her neck stiff with pride, Kiran turned to head to the sanctuary of her bedroom. "Are you hungry?" She halted. "Not really." "Me, neither." He scratched at his face and Kiran realized Steve had just run out of his available conversation. "I could go for a soft drink, though," she said. "It's hotter here than I'm used to, or maybe it's the humidity." His gaze traveled the full length of her skirt. Kiran held her head up higher. So she hadn't dressed for stifling heat. He was obviously used to women from the dunes of California who wore less. He wasn't exactly dressed for beach volleyball himself. With a flash of disquieting awareness, Kiran realized Steve looked mouth-watering in the blue jeans he'd changed into. He lounged in Uncle Caleb's old easy chair, his sandy hair tousled and his sea-green eyes tired, yet looking like a man comfortable inside his skin. She suddenly felt a lot hotter. "Let's go check the fridge," he said. Steve got up and crossed the room. Kiran's eyes followed him, noticing with some resentment that his backside looked as great as the front side. She closed her eyes, amazed by the decidedly un-schoolteacher longings melting over her. More men than she'd ever wanted to see had passed through Agnes's house to date her ever-flirting, ever-on-the-hunt stepmother, and Kiran bore the scars to prove it. She had worked hard to earn a college degree and a secure job, but the last thing she'd ever penciled into her dream diary was a man. They caused pain and misery. It was just her luck that bristly Steve Dorn was jolting her with feelings she didn't want. "No soft drinks," he called. "I can't even find instant coffee. Wonder what Uncle Caleb drank?" She walked into the kitchen and peered over Steve's shoulder to look in the nearly empty refrigerator. "Well, I guess we won't need a lot, but we'll certainly need a bit more than he's got in there." "Hey, I'm not going to be around long enough to buy groceries." He slammed the door and turned to face her. "I've done the funeral. There's no reason to hang around when a realtor can sell the place." "Sell?" Kiran's mouth pinched with dismay. "Why?" "Why not?" Crossing his arms, he leaned against an age-flecked kitchen counter. "You don't want this dilapidated joint, do you? I sure as hell don't." "Well, no." Kiran shook her head. "But wouldn't it feel a little disrespectful to sell it so fast?" "Disrespectful to who? Uncle Caleb's dead and he doesn't care." "I think he does," Kiran insisted. "Oh, spare me the sentiment." Steve's expression was stubborn. "I realize you're on summer break, but I've got a race next weekend I need to get in gear for. I don't have time to be sentimental." "Obviously." Kiran took a step away from Steve. "Have you read your letter?" "What letter?" "The one on the dining room table addressed to you." "I didn't see it." She stared him down. "You're in too much of a hurry to see much of anything." "Listen, Kiran, I'm not trying to be mean." Steve ran a hand tiredly through his hair. "I missed a race to be at Uncle Caleb's funeral. But I don't make money hanging around in holes like this." He stomped out of the room, leaving Kiran to ponder the empty refrigerator. Steve knew what was burning his butt. Kiran had turned into a model of responsibility, and she was also too damned attractive. She was right about his attitude and that bugged him. Women were made to be looked at, and most anything they had to say was unimportant. She, however, concealed her body with long sleeves and skirts, forcing him to focus on her incredible eyes and what lurked behind them, and that was bothering the hell out of him as well. It would be so much easier to relate to her on a sexual level, like he did every other attractive woman. He snatched the letter from the dining room table and read it quickly. It was standard fare for a man's last words, typical I love you and I'm proud of you stuff. Skimming the bottom half, he crammed it back into the envelope. There. He'd read it. After a moment, Steve shot a guilty look toward the kitchen, where he knew Kiran was still standing. Slowly, he pulled the letter back out and made himself read the bottom half. You've got my eyes. Kiran does, too. Steve puzzled over that, wondering if the old man had been a little senile. Kiran did not have Uncle Caleb's moss-colored eyes. Whoever Kiran's father had been, he had brought her with him when he'd married Agnes. When he pulled his fast exit, he left his little girl behind for Agnes to raise. Steve shook his head, making himself continue reading. I hope my eyes help you see my world the way I did. I may not have done the best I could, but I loved only three people in my entire life, you, Kiran, and Sakina. I'm counting on you to look out for all of us now, Steve. I have a feeling it's going to be a difficult thing I'm asking of you, but if there was a man up to the challenge, it's you. I'm going to enjoy the fight. Uncle Caleb