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his dad’s shoulder at his brother Grant. The family resemblance was striking between all the Brandts: dark hair, blue eyes, wide shoulders and long legs. Their trademark, his Uncle John used to joke. The trademark of the Brandt men anyway. There weren’t any Brandt daughters. Not in two generations.
    “Hey you,” Will said to Grant. He stepped back from his dad who was smiling that crooked grin that Will knew was the mirror of his own.
    Bill Brandt bellowed, “Roxie, will you knock it off!” before turning to Will once more. “How was your trip?”
    Will didn’t have a chance to answer because Grant was pounding his back in greeting, and Will was trying not to wince as Grant’s affectionate blows landed on his assorted bruises.
    “It’s about time, monsieur !” Grant was laughing. It had been over a year since Will had seen him last. Grant was twenty-five now, a little shorter and a little stockier than his big brother, pumped to physical peak from basic training, but really not so different from the enthusiastic kid Will had helped move into his college dorm what seemed like such a short time ago.
    Will thumped Grant in return. “So it’s true. The Corps will take anybody now!” He turned to Taylor, who had joined them. “This is Taylor.” He added self-consciously, “My partner.” But then it belatedly occurred to him that “partner” could be taken a couple of different ways. They would all be correct, of course. He should have figured out ahead of time how he would make this introduction, but the fact was, he hadn’t wanted to think about it. Had postponed thinking about it.
    His dad put his big, work-roughened hand out to Taylor. “Nice to meet you, Taylor.”
    “Sir,” Taylor said, shaking hands.
    Bill Brand studied Taylor shrewdly for a second or two. His navy eyes crinkled in his tanned face. He smiled. “Call me Bill, son.”
    Will’s heart lifted as his dad’s gaze met his own. Yes, it was okay. His dad knew, understood. He grinned at Taylor, feeling a surge of possessive pride in him. Why wouldn’t his dad approve? MacAllister was everything a prospective father-in-law ought to wish for. Smart, strong, and an excellent shot.
    Taylor offered a half smile in return, looking uncharacteristically serious. Almost grave. Will had been so busy worrying about his father and brother’s reactions, he hadn’t really stopped to consider whether Taylor might find this a little stressful. He wanted to put his arm around him, reassure him, show his solidarity, but not only did he not know how Taylor would feel about being hugged openly — they were sparing in their public demonstrations of affection — his own family wasn’t much for physical gestures of affection either.
    “Taylor? So you were in the marines?” Grant asked, glancing from Will to Taylor.
    “Huh?” Will said. But then memory clicked into place. Hell. Grant was thinking of Bob Taylor. Which was pretty damned disconcerting given that Grant had been a kid when Will and Bob —
    Will’s thoughts broke off as Taylor glanced his way curiously, offering his hand to Grant. “Sorry. Wrong Taylor.”
    “Friend of mine from the Corps,” Will said by way of explanation.
    “Aw. Too bad,” Grant said, Grant not being the most tactful member of the Brandt clan. He shook Taylor’s hand anyway.
    “Taylor’s my partner, you knucklehead,” Will said. This time he meant the other kind of partner. Or maybe he didn’t. Even he wasn’t sure anymore. He just knew he didn’t want Taylor, fresh from the David Bradley debacle, wondering about Bob Taylor.
    “Oh. MacAllister ,” Grant said. “The DSS one. Will said you like to fish. I thought you liked deep sea fishing, though.”
    “I like fishing period.”
    Taylor’s amused gaze met Will’s, and Will opened his mouth, but was this the right moment for a dramatic announcement? His father had the rear door of the SUV open and he was handing their fishing poles to Grant who was saying,