Templeton is a credible witness. He’s down on his luck but has no history of mental instability or substance abuse. He was very clear on the time the kids came in and ordered their burgers and fries. He remembers their clothing in detail, and can describe each and every one of them. He even remembers what they were talking about.”
“Thank God for Bert,” Shayna said, rolling her eyes toward the ceiling.
“I’ll be sure to keep you posted then.”
“Please.”
“Maybe next week you and I will be raising a glass or two and this whole episode will be a bad memory.”
“I doubt that. This has taken a toll on our family.”
Colin hung up and Shayna rejoined her parents, who now stood, arms around each other. They broke their hold long enough to include her in their protective circle.
“Thank you, Lord,” Kara said, tears flowing freely. “You’re an almighty Lord. My baby boy’s been saved.”
“Thank you for listening to our prayers,” Vincent added.
“It’s not over yet,” Shayna reminded them. “There’s always the possibility the Simpkins woman could have another change of mind. Let’s wait to get official notification before we go out and celebrate.”
“That’s probably smart. Still, I feel good about the way things are shaping up,” her dad said.
Shayna kept her fingers crossed behind her back. She smiled brightly at her parents, assuring them she had every confidence Reggie would go free and an apology would be extended to the family. This break had come from the most unexpected source, the alleged victim herself. God did work in mysterious ways.
The front door opened and heavy boots thudded across the wooden floors. Reggie had brought home a herd of elephants, it seemed.
“Come into the kitchen, son,” Vincent called.
“I have company,” Reggie announced. “Shayna, Beau’s here.”
Beau, cane and all, followed Reggie. “Hi, Shayna.”
She gaped at his western attire and the whole urban chic look. She’d never see Beau in boots, and snake, no less. His jeans hugged his slightly rounded butt and his muscular legs made her think of that night when he’d taken her over the moon and back. All those months of sitting idle hadn’t seemed to affect his muscle tone.
Shayna’s eyes shifted to the hollow of his neck where the designer shirt lay open. The sight of his strong column of a neck made her mouth go dry. She resisted the temptation to run her fingers through the few escaping hairs she could see, to lay her head against his chest, and breathe in his musky male scent. She was still mad at him and despite him being so damn sexy. She wanted him gone.
“What are you doing here?” she asked brusquely. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
“Figured I’d surprise you.” He turned to her parents, who eyed him curiously and acknowledged them by saying, “Mr. and Mrs. DaCosta, I’m Beau Hill.” He planted a kiss on Shayna’s cheek. “What a way to greet your boyfriend.”
“Boyfriend,” her mother exclaimed. “Shayna, you never mentioned a boyfriend.”
“Beau’s pulling your leg,” Shayna protested.
“I am not.”
Why was he putting her in an awkward position? Now she would have a lot of explaining to do.
“Well, are you, or aren’t you?” Vincent demanded, his scowl apparent. Shayna knew that look. It meant mess with my little girl and I’ll rip your eyes out.
“Shayna’s still not comfortable with it. We just started dating. She was my physical therapist before we fell in love,” Beau confessed.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Kara complained. “You had me believing that you weren’t interested in a man.”
“There was nothing to tell. See, Beau, look what you’ve done.” Shayna glared at him and thudded the heel of her hand against his strong bicep.
“Don’t we have something to do?” Ed asked, corralling his wife and son. “These two lovebirds need to talk.”
They were gone before Shayna could stop them.
More than a little irritated by his gumption, Shayna faced Beau. “The nerve of you to come stomping in telling my parents some bull, acting like nothing’s happened.”
“Something did happen,” Beau said calmly. “We made wild, crazy love and told each other how much we loved each other.”
She wanted to toss one of her china plates at him, watch that smug expression disappear from his face.
What did he think? That she’d so easily forgotten that his ex-girlfriend had walked in? She’d had a key. That in itself said something. Shayna had been the one forced to get dressed and who’d been rushed out the back door minus underwear. When had she become the other woman?
“Do I look stupid?” Shayna snapped. “You con Reggie into bringing you home. You’re here to try to BS me.”
“BS you? That’s impossible. You can’t be sweet talked.”
“Amen.”
Intentionally leaving his cane behind, Beau advanced, successfully backing her into a comer. Shayna was pressed up against the kitchen wall and trapped between his muscular arms. The scent of musk and man had her head spinning.
“This isn’t fair,” she said weakly, even as his gray eyes pierced hers.
“Life isn’t fair.”
“This is harassment I’ll start screaming.”
“Better start now.”
“You owe me an explanation. An apology.”
Shayna looked up at Beau’s wide mouth, sculptured cheekbones, and gunmetal eyes. There was no man more beautiful in the whole wide world.
“First of all,” Beau said, “Chandra and I are over with. There’s a snowball’s chance in hell of us getting back together.”
He silenced her by placing a finger to her lips. “I don’t love her. I love you.”
“Then why was she there?”
“To see if she could rekindle a flame that was already dead.”
“And did she?” Shayna asked, knowing that if he answered in the affirmative it would break her heart. Beau reached into his pocket and dangled a tiny metal object at her. “I’ve got my key back.”
“She could have made a copy.”
She wanted to believe Beau and believe he’d ended his relationship with the model. He’d never lied before. If anything it was she who’d lied by omitting to tell him the full story.
“I want you to have this,” Beau said, pressing the key into her hands. “I’m changing my locks, but till then it’s yours. You may come and go as you like. When the new locks are installed I’ll give you another.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
She couldn’t stay mad at him, not when he’d confirmed he loved and trusted her by giving her his key.
“I’m at loss for words,” Shayna repeated.
“Say nothing then. Just kiss me.”
And she did.
Chapter Twenty-three
Miles Williams lived in one of the many sprawling Denver suburbs. His house was small, but architecturally laid out to appear open and spacious. Inside was definitely a man’s world, and workout equipment was everywhere. Beau had to step over a pair of dumbbells and edge around a stationary bicycle to find a seat.
Miles greeted him at the door outfitted in athletic shorts and T-shirt. He’d handed Beau a bottle of water and disappeared into what Beau assumed was a bedroom.
“I’ll be right back,” he’d shouted.
The athlete appeared wary and uncomfortable. Beau wondered whether his disappearing act was simply a ploy to buy time and get himself together.
Miles reappeared when Beau was halfway through his water. He had changed into jeans and a polo shirt, the short sleeves showing off his well-defined biceps.
“Sorry,” he said, folding himself into a leather armchair and crossing one well-defined thigh muscle over the other. “I’ve been working out for the last hour and needed to shower.” He took a swig from his own bottled water.
Letting the silence stretch out, Beau waited. Miles had finished in the
top fifteen in Vail. He had had an interesting skiing history and at one point great things had been predicted for him. But a series of injuries had laid him up, the most recent being when he’d shattered his femur and messed up his knee at the World Cup finals. Everyone had thought a comeback would be impossible, but Miles was determined to show them. After twenty-two months of rehabilitation he was back.
Beau looked at the man lounged across from him. He appeared the picture of health and vitality. He and Miles had never been particularly friendly, but Miles had always appeared supportive if a little distant.
If Miles can do it, so can I, he thought. Look at that woman I read about who raced with a broken back.
Eventually Beau broke the uneasy silence. “I’m here because I’m trying to put some missing pieces together.” Miles’s ice-blue eyes flickered but he didn’t say a thing. He appeared to be listening intently. “I’ve been out of commission for several months. It’s a miracle that I’m even walking.”
At last a movement. A flicker of something. “Yeah, I heard. You weren’t supposed to ever be able to walk again.”
“Exactly. Now I’m hearing conflicting stories about what happened the day I was hurt. I’ve already spoken to Josh Vanderhorn and Peter Turner. Peter claims to have seen a man hanging around my ski gear. Josh claims Peter knows more than he’s saying. But both men have memory loss when I asked who packed my skis and boots and sent them back. Do you know?”
Miles took another long, sip of water. “It was sort of a crazy day,” he admitted. “Everything happened so fast. We’d had the best practice run ever and we were in high spirits. We had you. We were certain the team would finish in the top three, and you would win the downhill.”
Beau fought against the memories. “Yes, and rumors have been flying ever since I fell. It’s been all speculation. That fall changed my life permanently. I want answers to some things.”
Miles set his bottle down on a table. Water rings attested to the fact that it had served as a resting place for more bottles than the table cared to remember. He stood, working the kinks out of his neck, and took his time answering.
“Look,” he said, “everyone on the ski team’s speculated for ages that Peter and Josh were in this thing together. Both wanted a place on the podium. No one believes Peter’s story about this strange guy lurking around the equipment. We think Peter was the one who did something to your skis. Just the evening before he was racing around looking for a screwdriver. Initially no one could figure out why he needed one.”
“Why do you think that was?” Beau asked, making sure to keep his gaze fixed on Miles.
Miles circled the room flexing his strong neck muscles. “Of course whatever I say is hearsay. You’ll need to keep my identity confidential or I’ll deny it. “
Beau nodded. He wanted to believe Miles but why had he kept this information to himself for so long?
“All right, it’s like this,” Miles began. “A skier with your experience doesn’t just fall. I watched that downhill race. You were in the lead; then all of a sudden you went crashing. Those weren’t icy slopes. Josh and Peter both wanted to place. Josh was the more solid skier. Why would Peter be looking for a screwdriver of a certain size? Why would he go to a restaurant then claim he left his wallet behind in his car? Then he comes back inside telling a bunch of the guys that he saw someone hanging around the skis. No one else saw this stranger.” Miles screwed up his mouth, expressing his cynicism. Beau didn’t like the very vivid picture that kept popping into his head. It took all of his willpower to remain seated and listen to Miles finish. Unbelievable that he might have lost a race because of two people’s ambitions.
Not just a race either. The use of his legs for several months and his sense of self. He could have died. But he had no proof and he’d promised Miles not to say where he’d gotten this information from. Tough spot to be in.
“Here’s what I’m thinking,” Miles said, finishing his water in a gulp. “You know those little screws, the din settings on your bindings?”
“Ummm-hmmm.”
“What if those screws were adjusted?”
“My foot would fall out. At high speeds I’d go toppling.”
“Right. Get it?”
“Thanks,” Beau said, rising and picking up his cane. “You’ve been very helpful. I don’t suppose you know what became of my skis or boots?”
“As a matter of fact I do. Josh volunteered to pack your things. We were surprised. You know he never puts himself out. We were in shock after your fall. No one started speculating until weeks after. A group of us met for drinks and then the stories kept coming out. Something smelled, big time.”
“I really appreciate this,” Beau said, leaning on his cane and slapping Miles on the back. “I’ll be sure to keep your name out of it.”
“I would appreciate that. And, Beau,” Miles called, as Beau hobbled away. “Rumor also has it Josh shipped your skis and boots to his home. He wanted the evidence out of sight.”
Beau didn’t trust himself to answer. His mind and imagination were whirling out of control. If Miles was telling the truth, Peter and Josh were two conniving, dangerous people. But the fact that he’d survived his fall was testimony that he was stronger than they. He was determined to fight back.
Beau got into his vehicle with one purpose in mind. He would catch Shayna at the Rehab Center before she got off work and persuade her to have dinner with him. He needed to discuss this new twist with her and come up with a plan.
He pulled into the parking lot just as Shayna was leaving the building and sat for a while simply staring at her. She was wearing a short mint green skirt with dark green leggings and tan ankle boots. A cute little bustier completed the look, and a cropped jacket pulled it together professionally. She looked fresh, innocent, and stylish at the same time. Just looking at her made him realize how lucky he was to have found a woman who was both smart and pretty.
Wanting to show her he could walk on his own, Beau left his cane behind, and got out of the car. Shayna hurried across the lot, heading for employee parking. She appeared unaware that he was anywhere nearby. Beau limped along trying to catch up with her.
“Shayna,” he called, realizing there was no way he would.
She appeared not to have heard him. She’d gotten her keys out, and the lights on her car flashed briefly as she punched the remote button.
“Shayna,” Beau called again.
This time she turned toward him.
“Beau, what are you doing here?” she greeted. “It’s not your day for therapy. Where’s your cane?”
She waited, staring at him. He approached, took her hand and pressed the palm to his lips. “I missed you. I figured if I just showed up you couldn’t say no to drinks and maybe dinner.”
“You’re not giving me much notice.”
“I know it’s last minute, but I do really need to talk to you, please.”
She appeared to debate. “Okay I’ll call home. Maybe I can convince my parents to go out to dinner and take Reggie with them.”
“That would be nice. We’ll take my car.”
“What do I do with mine?”
“Leave it parked here. We’ll get it later. Have you ever been to the Brown Palace Hotel?”
“Can’t say I have.”
“I’ll need to show you Denver then. Wait until you see the atrium lobby of Brown’s
We’ll have drinks there and decide what to do about dinner.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Shayna curled her fingers around his and followed him back to the car, and inwardly he breathed a sigh of relief. He’d made headway.
Beau put the Saab’s convertible roof down, and held the passenger door open to let Shayna slide in. Revving the engine, he careened out of the parking lot
She swatted his arm affectionately. “What’s with the show of testosterone?”
“I’m a downhill racer. I live on the edge,” he reminded her.
“And you were a very good one from w
hat I read.”
“The best”
“Modest too,” Shayna said, biting her knuckles as he took a hairpin curve on two wheels.
Beau drove the speed limit in downtown Denver. The traffic in a town that never slept dictated that. He turned his keys over to a valet, took Shayna by the elbow, and led her into an airy but opulent lobby where customers reclined on red velvet sofas or high wingback chairs. Beau’s eyes settled on an older gentleman with faded jeans. His leather belt had an antique silver buckle. He wore a linen jacket and an expensive Stetson on his head. In another corner, a woman outfitted in an elegant suit and pearls held court with other ladies similarly dressed. Cow town meets Now town, a friend had once said, referring to Denver s hip night life, setting off a series of guffaws. Downtown Denver had turned in to a place to see and be seen.
Shayna pointed out the stained glass canopy up above. “God, is that beautiful.”
To their right was a bar, and Beau ushered her inside. They slid into a booth at the back, facing each other.
“So what’s going on?” she asked. “Why did we need to come here?”
“I’ll tell you in a minute. Let’s order.” Beau motioned a hovering server over and without consulting Shayna, he said, “A bottle of Moet, please.”
“Moet?” Shayna looked at him like he had three heads. “Are we celebrating something?”
“We’re celebrating us.”
“Us? What am I missing?”
He hoped this wasn’t going to be an issue between them. He was a take-charge man and wasn’t about to turn into a wuss overnight.
The bottle of Moet was placed in a silver bucket and rested between them. The cork popped and you could hear the fizzle. Their waiter made a gigantic production of pouring the bubbly.
“Celebrating something special?” he asked.
“Loving this woman.”
Shayna’s mouth opened and shut.
Beau waited until the man had left before clinking his glass against Shayna’s. “Here’s to our love,” he said.
“To getting to know each other better,” she countered, smiling at him, and leaving him wondering whether she was playing some game.
His Golden Heart Page 21
