Read Her Passionate Plan B for Free Online

preferred to talk about his short career as a starting pitcher. The first thing most of them wanted to know was how much money he’d made, his stock answer being, “Not as much as Greg Maddux or Randy Johnson, but a lot more than I ever expected.”
    It was late that evening when Kell pulled into the driveway under a row of big pecan trees, taking care to avoid parking under any of several dangling limbs. He checked his notes again. Oh, man, he mused, gazing up at a house that looked like a wedding cake that had been left out in a hard rain. Just to be sure he hadn’t made amistake, he climbed out of the Porsche and walked back to recheck the name on the mailbox.
    H. Snow. The small, stick-on letters were starting to peel off.
    It was when he turned back toward the three-story house with all the gables, the stained-glass windows and the dangling gutter that he saw the woman standing in the doorway. Even with the sun glaring in his eyes he recognized her as the same woman he’d seen at the cemetery that morning. Something about the way she was standing looked familiar, even though she was considerably drier now and minus the raincoat.
    Squaring his shoulders—that bed last night hadn’t done his back any favors—Kell ambled toward the front porch. “Hi there,” he greeted once he was in range. “You left before Blalock could introduce us this morning, but he probably told you I’d be along.” The way she confronted him with her arms crossed over her breast wasn’t exactly welcoming. “You must be Ms. Hunter. The nurse?”
    She waited to speak until he got close enough to see the spattering of freckles across her cheeks. “May I see some identification?”
    At the bottom of the steps he froze. “Sure…” He had the usual stack of stuff crammed into his wallet. He’d left copies of most of it with Blalock. Why the hell hadn’t the guy warned her that he’d be coming out to see the place? “Name’s Kelland Magee,” he said, reaching toward his hip pocket. “I guess Blalock at the bank told you we’re pretty sure Harvey Snow was my uncle? Half uncle, at least.”
    By now Kell was all but certain of the relationship,even though Blalock insisted on reserving final judgment—probably waiting for a DNA comparison.
    Propping a foot on the bottom step, he adjusted his outward attitude, shooting for friendly and nonthreatening, but with subtle overtones of authority. “Did he tell you my dad’s mother married a man named Snow from this neck of the woods after her first husband died?” Shuffling through his credentials, he moved up another two steps. Once he reached the porch he stopped and held out a driver’s license and his social security card, which he knew better than to use as identification, but at this point he was getting a little desperate. Without moving a muscle, the lady was messing with his mind. This time her ankles had nothing to do with it.
    While she studied his credentials, Kell pretended to take in the littered lawn while his excellent peripheral vision roamed over her streaky blond hair and a pair of steel-gray eyes that were about as warm as a walk-in freezer. Early to midthirties, he estimated. Nice mouth. If she ever relaxed so far as to smile, it’d probably be in a class with her ankles.
    He waited for her to invite him inside. Finally she looked up, nailing him with a chilly stare. “What did Mr. Blalock tell you?”
    â€œAbout what?” He scrambled through his two brief meetings with the banker, trying to recall everything that had been said while he’d attempted to convince the man to let him at least look over the place where his father had allegedly grown up.
    â€œAbout—well, about Mr. Snow.” Her voice was soft but firm, and if that was an oxymoron, then so were all thosemattress ads. “You said he might have been your uncle. How do I know