by Ruth Langan
The boy kicked at a stone and muttered under his breath as a dark-haired woman came rushing toward them, looking completely flustered. Her cheeks were red, her breathing labored, as though she’d been running at top speed.
“Cory. Taylor. I told you to stay close to the house.”
“We saw a guinea pig, Mom.” The little girl forgot her fear now that her mother was near. “We almost caught it. But it got away. And our neighbor says it isn’t a guinea pig. It’s a woodpecker.”
“Not a woodpecker.” Cory’s frown deepened. “A woodchuck.”
“Oh, yeah.” The girl smiled broadly. “A woodchuck. It would have bited us if we caught it.”
“Bitten.” Her mother automatically corrected her before looking at the man.
When she did, she felt something similar to an electric current sizzle through her. He was naked to the waist, wearing nothing but a pair of faded denims that looked as though they’d seen better days. He seemed not the least bit bothered by his lack of clothing. Dark hair matted his chest and disappeared beneath the unsnapped waistband of his jeans. His shoulders were wide, and corded with muscles. She moved her gaze upward to a face that had her heart beating overtime. It was the most dangerous face she’d ever seen. A strong, chiseled chin darkened with stubble. Steely eyes narrowed against the morning sunlight. A wide forehead, dusted with dark hair that was tousled from sleep. The only thing that softened his look was that poet’s mouth, which at the moment was pursed as he regarded her. Though older, tougher and leaner, this was the same man that had fueled many of her high-school fantasies after a single glimpse.
“I’m really sorry. I warned the children not to come up here and bother you. And my brother warned them, too.”
“No harm done.” Donovan managed a rare, quick smile, which had her heart leaping to her throat. “Champ said we met once, though I’m afraid I don’t remember. I’m Donovan Lassiter.”
“Andrea Brady.” She stuck out her hand. “My friends call me Andi.”
“We call her mama,” little Taylor added.
She certainly didn’t look like anybody’s mother. At least not any Donovan had known. She was tall and slender as a reed, with short, dark hair that curled softly around a strikingly beautiful face. She had wide, honey eyes and high, sculpted cheekbones that a model would die for. She wore absolutely no makeup, yet her skin was as fine as porcelain. Her unpainted lips were wide and perfectly formed. Made for kissing.
The thought jolted him. If he hadn’t been awake before, he was now.
“Nice to meet you, Andi. I see where Taylor and Cory get their eyes.”
Her lashes lowered and she seemed eager to escape this man’s direct stare. “I was unpacking and I thought I’d let my children get acquainted with their new surroundings. I never dreamed they’d come this far.”
She turned to her son. “I expected you to see to your sister.”
“That’s what I was doing.”
At his defiant tone she struggled to soften her own. “Okay. No harm done. Let’s go.” She started to put an arm around her son’s shoulders, but he backed away as though repelled by her touch.
To cover the awkward moment she caught her daughter’s hand. “Come on now. We’ll leave Mr. Lassiter alone.”
“But what about our woodchuck?”
“He isn’t your woodchuck, Taylor. Remember what Mr. Lassiter said. If you manage to catch him, he could bite.” She looked up suddenly. “Could he carry rabies?”
Donovan shrugged. “He’s a wild creature. Anything’s possible.”
“What if we set out a cage?” Cory could see his little sister’s lower lip quivering. Even though he was already tired of the game, he knew that she’d had her heart set on a pet. “We could lure him in with food.”
Andi shook her head. “He isn’t like a guinea pig, that has never lived anywhere but a cage. You heard what our neighbor said. This is a wild creature, Cory. He’s used to being free. He belongs in the woods. Besides, Taylor can’t have pets. Remember her allergies. Now say goodbye to Mr. Lassiter.”
“It’s Donovan.” He was doing his best to be pleasant. Not an easy task on a couple of hours sleep. He was as eager for this to end as she was.
“All right. Say goodbye to Donovan.” Andi was already starting away, her daughter’s hand firmly in hers.
The little girl glanced at Donovan, then, like her mother, lowered her lashes and stared hard at the ground as she struggled to keep up with the impatient strides.
When Andi realized that her son wasn’t following, she turned. “Cory. Come with us.”
“Why?” He held back, hands on his hips.
“You can give me a hand unpacking.”
“Sounds like a lot of fun.” The boy dug his hands in his pockets and trailed behind, calling glumly, “‘Bye, Donovan. Sorry about—” he shrugged “—you know.”
“It’s okay. See you.” Donovan stayed where he was, watching until they rounded the bend in the road.
As a lifetime member of a loud and overbearing family, he considered himself something of an expert on family dynamics. This was a family that was hurting. It was obvious that the little girl was so shy she tried to be invisible. Cory was a wounded, angry rebel, ready to break all the rules he could. Donovan had to smile at that. He’d know a thing or two about being a rebel.
Then there was their mother.
As he made his way back to the house, Donovan thought about Andi Brady. For someone so young, she had her hands full. A dead husband with a checkered past, a ton of unwanted notoriety and a couple of troubled kids. He’d bet any amount of money that her friends were probably avoiding her and her creditors were circling around, ready to jump in at their first opportunity to clear their own debt at her expense.
Still, she wasn’t at all what he’d been expecting. He didn’t know how he’d missed her the first time around, when he’d been in college and she in high school. A man would have to be blind not to notice a woman like that.
It would seem that Champion Mackenzie’s little sister had definitely grown up.
“Here, Cory.” Andi began unpacking a box of clothing. “I’ll put your clothes on the bed and you can hang them in your closet.”
He leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. His look, as always lately, was one of defiance. “Why can’t you hang them?”
“Because it’s your closet. You may as well arrange them the way you’d like.”
Andi turned away and began hauling out shirts, jeans and assorted jackets and sweats. As she worked she thought about what Champ had told her. He’d managed to persuade Donovan to look into Adam’s case. Though her own hope had begun to fade, she had to keep trying, for the sake of her children. Champ had said that if anyone could find a needle in a haystack it was Donovan Lassiter.
Donovan Lassiter. She went very still, her work forgotten.
The first time she’d met him, in her brother’s dorm, she’d been completely tongue-tied. Champ had warned her about his roommate, and had filled her in on the family history. While her girlfriends had flirted shamelessly, she’d hung back, too afraid to even speak to him. Like all teenage girls she found the solemn, moody Donovan a romantic figure. She’d even begun to weave a few fantasies about him. In her mind’s eye, she saw herself bringing a smile to those angry lips and a gleam in those steely blue eyes. But once she immersed herself in college life, Donovan Lassiter had faded into a pleasant, romantic memory. Though she’d never completely forgotten him, she’d been startled by the intense feelings evoked by their little encounter just now. She’d felt that same impact when she’d looked into his eyes. And the touch of him had left her almost paralyzed.
She turned to look out the window at his house on the hill. It was almost completely hidden in the woods that surrounded it. Somehow she thought that would suit Donovan Lassiter. From what her brother had told her, he hadn’t changed much from that solitary, lonely young rebel. Still, she was determined to go along with whatever demands
he made on her children. If she had to, she’d keep them locked inside the house all day. It was little enough price to pay for what he might do for them in return.
“Mom?”
Cory’s voice broke through her thoughts.
“You’ve folded and unfolded that sweatshirt a dozen times now. Want me to stash it in a drawer?”
“Oh.” She managed a weak smile. “Here.”
As she handed it over, she picked up the empty box, tucking it under her arm. “I think I’ll start on Taylor’s room now.”
Cory didn’t answer. He was holding a wallet-size photo of his father that had fallen to the floor. On his face was a look of pain mingled with anger.
She felt a knife twist in her heart. It was one thing to lose a father in a tragic accident. That would be enough to shatter a child’s heart. But to discover that their father wasn’t the hero they’d always admired, but a criminal who had stolen millions of dollars from unsuspecting victims, was a burden that no child should have to bear.
She let herself out of her son’s room and closed the door before leaning against it and closing her eyes. Cory wasn’t alone in his confusion. She’d loved Adam Brady from the first time she’d met him. She missed him so much she ached. And she had steadfastly refused to believe that he was capable of criminal behavior.
Still, sometimes in the stillness of the night, she found herself questioning everything. Her blind defense of a man who wasn’t here to defend himself. Her gut feeling that he’d been a good, honest man. She’d even begun questioning their love. Had there been someone else? Could he have stolen millions and left them with a lover?
It was too incredible to consider, even for a moment. She hadn’t imagined Adam’s love or his goodness. Those who believed otherwise were wrong.
She took in a deep breath and started toward her daughter’s room. There was no time to give in to self-pity. This was what life had handed her. Like it or not, she’d live with it.
Chapter 3
Donovan’s day had slowly gone from bad to worse. Because he’d been unable to get back to sleep, he’d decided to begin his own investigation on the Adam Brady case.
At first glance, it seemed simple enough. Brady had been invited to join Neil Summerville in his fledgling investment company. Since Brady came from an old banking family, he was able to use his connections to secure some impressive accounts, and the two men had made millions for their clients, as well as for themselves. Though neither man was flamboyant, they lived well. Membership in one of the city’s most exclusive country clubs. Homes that were showplaces in the rolling Virginia countryside. Their children attended prestigious private schools.
According to the documents filed by the district attorney, the authorities were already closing in on Brady and Summerville when their plane went down. It was then that an examination of their books showed that the only clients that had been defrauded were those handled by Adam Brady. In the beginning, the amounts of money funneled from the accounts had been small enough that the clients didn’t notice. But then the thief had become bolder, helping himself to more and more of his client’s funds, and covering himself by showing losses in various investments. It was only after one very astute client had caught the error, and complained to Brady personally, that the authorities had been notified. Brady had agreed to cooperate fully by opening his company books to an independent audit.
And then the plane crash.
Donovan flipped through the pages to the crash report. The plane and pilot had been leased through a small, reputable company located at Washington’s National Airport. A flight plan had been filed with the proper authorities. The plan had been to fly to Chicago for a meeting with clients and to return the same day. The weather had been stormy, with high winds, but the pilot had been confident that once they flew above the storm, they would have no trouble. The plane had barely been airborne when it crashed off the Maryland shore. Recovery from water is always messy. This was no exception. Despite their best efforts, only parts of the plane and bodies were recovered. But from what was salvaged, the authorities could find no sign of foul play and ruled the crash an accident.
Donovan sighed and tossed aside the documents.
He shouldn’t have taken this on. He had a book to write. A life to sort through. The last thing he needed was a greedy investment counselor and his grieving family messing with his mind.
He decided to walk down the hill for his mail. It was nearly a mile from his house to the main highway, where the mail was delivered. He liked it that way. It was one more thing that didn’t intrude on his solitude.
After rummaging through a box for a clean T-shirt, he had to hunt up his shoes. He found one by the door, the other beside his bed. He picked his way between boxes and stepped out onto the porch, surprised to see that it was already late afternoon.
As he started along the path between towering evergreens, a fat woodchuck sat up and watched from behind a screen of ferns.
Seeing him, Donovan frowned. “Hiding out from those city kids, aren’t you?” He shook his head. “I don’t blame you. They don’t know enough to leave wild things alone.”
The woodchuck waddled away, leaving the ferns rustling. As he continued along the gravel path, it occurred to Donovan that he could have been talking about himself as well. He was comfortable alone. Always had been. He resented the intrusion of other people into his life. That’s why his government career had been such a perfect fit. Not only was he not expected to make permanent attachments, but it was actually frowned upon. A man with a wife and children was a liability. The most effective men in his work were, like him, loners, with nothing to lose except their own lives. As for being wild, it went with the territory. There had been no timid men in his line of work. At least none who’d survived.
He caught sight of the rental house up ahead and lifted his head at the smell of woodsmoke. Since it was too warm for a fire in the fireplace, it must mean they were having a cookout. He stuck his hands in the pockets of his jeans and noticed that the front porch had been swept and the cobwebs removed from the overhang. Not that it mattered. Though he owned the house, he didn’t care what they did with it. As far as he was concerned, it was theirs as long as they paid the rent.
He followed the rough road to the highway and paused at the row of mailboxes. After retrieving his mail he started back along the same trail. He hadn’t taken more than a couple of steps before he felt the hair at the back of his neck begin to prickle. He paused to tie his shoe. As he did, he chanced a quick glance around. Though there was no one in sight, he was certain he was being watched. It was second nature to Donovan to always trust his instincts.
Tucking his mail in his back pocket he continued walking, all the while listening for any sound that seemed out of place. Gradually he sorted it out. A soft footfall in the woods to his left. Definitely not an animal. He slowed his pace, and realized that the footsteps slowed, as well. When he picked up the pace, he could hear the footsteps moving faster.
When he reached a spot where the trees grew together, forming an arch that blotted out the light, he took a quick turn into the woods, pausing beside the trunk of a tree. Within moments he saw a shadow approaching. In one smooth motion he reached out and closed his hand around a skinny wrist.
Cory Brady let out a yelp and looked as though he’d just seen a ghost. “Hey. What’re you doing?”
“I might ask you the same thing. Anyone sneaking up on me could find himself in a whole lot of trouble.” He released the boy’s wrist and noted the quick flare of challenge in Cory’s eyes. “Something in particular you wanted to know about me? Or were you just having fun?”
“How’d you know I was here?” Cory rubbed his flesh and wondered at this man’s strength. The boy’s arm felt as though it had been caught in a steel trap.
“Maybe I have eyes in the back of my head.”
“Only moms have that.”
“Yeah.” Donovan nodded. “Now that you mention it, I seem to remember
my own mom seeing all the things I was hoping she wouldn’t.”
The boy stepped back, putting some distance between himself and this mysterious man. “How’d you know I was there?”
Donovan shrugged. “I have my own personal radar. Why were you following me?”
It was the boy’s turn to shrug. He looked down at the ground and kicked at a stone. “Sorry. I just…” He glanced up, then away. “Uncle Champ said you were a secret agent or something.”
“More like or something.” Donovan stepped back on the path and started walking. “So, you wanted to see if I was passing secrets to some foreign courier?”
“Maybe.” Cory moved along beside him and gave him a nervous glance. “Were you?”
“Sorry to disappoint you. I was picking up my mail.” As they neared the house, Donovan motioned toward it. “How’s your new place?”
“It’s all right. Mom’s going nuts trying to get everything cleaned up and put away. She can’t stand clutter.”
“Yeah?” Donovan almost smiled. “She’d really go nuts at my place. I’ve been there a month and still haven’t unpacked.”
“You mean it?” Cory was clearly impressed. “And nobody yells at you or anything?”
“There’s nobody to yell. I live alone.”
“Yeah. That’s what Uncle Champ said. I mean…” The boy looked embarrassed. “He said you like being alone. And Taylor and I weren’t supposed to bother you.”
Just then a worried voice sounded from the back yard. “Cory.”
“That’s Mom.”
Donovan nodded. “I can tell.”
“She’s always bugging me to let her know where I am. Even when I’m just going for a walk.”
“You’re new here. She’s probably afraid you’ll get lost.”
“She yelled at me back at our other place, too. She’s been scared ever since…” His words fell off and he gave a quiet hiss of breath.
“Maybe you ought to let her know you’re all right.”
“I will. It’s just—” he kicked at the dirt “—I just like to be left alone sometimes, you know?”
