Read The Blessed Blend for Free Online Page B

bit thick about the waist. Probably in his early fifties. He and the Spaniard had corporate executive/hereditary aristocracy written all over them. Men used to power and prestige and all of the perks thereof. Such men were not used to taking orders from those they considered underlings and would probably be a pain in the ass, and the Spaniard more so than the German.
    American Number One had brown hair, ice-blue eyes, and a jaded countenance. He eyed Callie and her children dismissively, giving her the impression that the three of them together didn’t add up to the little toe on a piss-ant in his estimation.
    She didn’t think a whole hell of a lot of him, either.
    American Number Two had blond hair and brown eyes, sun-tanned skin, a tall muscular build, and sharply chiseled features that were beginning to show middle age. He looked like a rich playboy who probably had a surgically-enhanced trophy wife waiting at home for him.
    The twins ran to their grandfather. Jim laughed, swinging them up and hugging them before setting them down and turning to Callie.   He smiled and hugged her as he asked, “How’s it going, Baby Doll?”
    “Fine, Dad,” Callie replied. “Our guests?”
    “Yes ma’am!” Jim said as he began introductions. Senor Rigoberto Arias y Sandoval of Cordova, Spain. Herr Pieter Richthoffer of Essen, Germany. Mike Voorhees of Martha’s Vineyard. Cal McConnell of Galveston, Texas.
    Callie greeted each man politely with a level eye, steady voice, and firm handshake. The contest of wills was already on just like so many times before. Callie was barely five feet tall and aware that these men were looking down on her literally and figuratively, probably thinking there wasn’t much to her and they could just run right over her.
    Boy, were they in for a shock.
    While the first round of introductions were going on, two more men came up behind to join the group. Callie saw them peripherally, but focused on the men she was being introduced to out of politeness as well as to assess them more intently. To be forewarned was to be well armed as the old saying went and she wanted to be able to anticipate the problems that might arise.
    Just as Jim began to introduce Scotsman Number One, the man stuck out a bear-paw of a hand and said, “John MacQueen, miss. Pleased tae meet ye!”
    Callie took his hand, noticing the firm yet gentle grip. He was very tall, probably six-seven, and broad enough across the shoulders to make two of the other clients. His wavy blond hair was pulled back in a braid and his rough-hewn face sported a neatly clipped horseshoe moustache with a small patch of beard on his chin. There was a genuinely friendly look in his blue eyes and he seemed very familiar for some reason.
    “Pleased to meet you, sir,” she returned. “Welcome to our mountains.”
    Callie turned to greet Scotsman Number Two and the universe came to a screeching halt. She heard Jim’s voice out there somewhere but it was drowned out by the thundering of her own heart. Her mouth went dry and the air went out of her lungs as she looked into a pair of intimately familiar eyes and her nostrils caught a scent that had haunted her dreams.
    It couldn’t be.

Chapter 3:
     

Deliverance Or Dances With Wolves
     
     
     
    It was.
    Euan Wallace. The father of her children. The first and only man she had ever loved or made love with.
    The bastard who had broken her heart and insulted her honor.
    Her mind reeled and her heart skittered, and she was afraid that she was about to stumble and fall. Why was he here? Did he know?
    Her eyes flew to his companion, John MacQueen. Of course. Big John. She should have recognized Euan’s bosom buddy. How the hell many men stood that tall or broad? His hair was longer than it had been four years back and he had shaved off that wooly beard, but it was him alright. Euan’s self-appointed body guard. If Euan needed muscle, John would more than fill the bill.
    In an instant a cold fear gripped her.