by Lowe, Fiona
Her heart hammered in her chest as she tried to make sense of his words and his complete character change but it was like she’d tumbled into a parallel universe. Everything looked the same but it was all oh so very different. “I have no clue what’s going on inside your head but you’re barking mad.” She lunged for her phone.
He caught her shoulders and held her firmly at arm’s length, as if she was a child. The slight creak of a door opening jerked his gaze up and beyond her.
She turned her head as far as she could, given his viselike grip on her, and saw a tall, silver-haired man striding into the room.
Sean Callahan. Annika instantly recognized him from the magazine picture Nicole had shown her. This was who she’d risked a concussion for. This was the man she had to speak to and she had to get to him before Finn said anything. She had to get free. Thinking fast she weighed her options—she could knee her captor in the groin but instead she chose the next one. Lifting a foot, she aimed a sharp kick squarely to his shin.
“Shit.” His hands fell away from her shoulders.
Ignoring the pain that ricocheted along her own leg, she bunched up her long skirt and ran toward the man who held the future of Whitetail in his hands. “Mr. Callahan, I’m so sorry to do this to you on your daughter’s engagement but I need to—”
“Mr. Callahan—” The security guard who’d refused her entry ran panting into the room with his paunch bouncing ahead of him. As his head came up for air, he saw her, raised his hand and said, “You!”
Her stomach fell to the floor as panic threatened to close her throat. She frantically glanced between the door, the three men and the now shut window. All escapes routes irrevocably cut off. “I can explain every—”
“Don’t listen to her.”
“Finnegan, what on earth’s going on?” Sean Callahan’s voice boomed around the chaotic room.
“You’ve caught me mid-citizen’s arrest, Dad.”
Dad? Annika’s chest muscles froze and she gagged on bile. Oh, God, why hadn’t she known Sean Callahan had a son? Why hadn’t she done some research rather than depending on what Nicole had told her? She looked at both the Callahan men, and now that she knew their relationship she could immediately see the genes they shared—the impressive height, the strong, square jaw and the deep brackets around a wide mouth just waiting for a reason to smile. Right now though, given the way both of them were staring at her, that reason was going to be a long time coming.
“I can take over for you, sir.” The security guard put his meaty hand on her arm. She struggled not to try and shake it off.
Tell them the truth. Tell them you’re the acting mayor of Whitetail. She toyed with that idea for about one tenth of a second. She’d broken into a house, wrapped herself around the owner’s son, allowed herself to be kissed senseless and to cap it off had kicked him as hard as she possibly could, treating his shin like a soccer ball. Oh yeah, they were so going to be believe her.
Chapter Two
Finn rubbed his throbbing shin and reminded himself to never underestimate someone who claimed to be uncoordinated. He grunted at the security guard. “Ring the police, Jerome.”
The usually stoic man looked confused. “Mr. Callahan, sirs, exactly which county sheriff covers this area?”
“Aren’t you supposed to know stuff like that?” Finn could feel an egg-size lump rising on his leg.
“In Chicago, sir, but this part of the country is all new to me.”
“We’re on the border of Lake and Bayfield so take your pick.”
Donna sighed, her smoky voice sounding tired. “Actually, it’s Lake County. The police chief’s number is 555-3228, although it’s Saturday night so he’ll probably be bowling. He never hears his cell over the noise so best to call 555-5196.”
His gaze stalled on her mouth and the way it formed the numbers so precisely, instantly recalling the wild and hot way it had played under his. He ran his hand through his hair, the curls frustratingly snagging at his fingers. Kissing her was supposed to have been a test to see how far she’d go in her quest to get what she wanted. Instead he’d been more turned on in three minutes than he’d been in three months. He closed his hand, pressing his fingers into his palm, desperate to shut out the feeling that had been tingling there since it had unexpectedly discovered a soft curve of breast nestling behind the embroidered bodice. A tingling that had made him reach for her zipper.
He hated that he’d responded like a randy teenager to her calculated plan to get a story. But that was over. He had her number and then some. “Don’t believe a word she says, Jerome.”
“No, sir.”
“She’s right about the county,” his father said quietly as he put his hand on the door handle. “The toasts are starting, Finnegan. Leave Jerome to handle this.”
And it was time to go play happy families—the evening just got better and better. “She’s wily, Jerome. Don’t let her near any windows and stay with her until she’s in the back of the squad car.”
“Yes, sir.”
He could barely look at her but he gave a curt nod. “I’d like to say it was a pleasure meeting you but we both know that’s a lie.”
Her chin shot up and those sparkling blue-on-blue eyes flashed. “Enjoy the rest of the party, Finn.”
Her words mocked him as he stepped out of the library.
* * *
Bridget Mary Callahan—Bridey to her family and close friends—was now officially engaged. She and Hank had been quietly engaged for three months but tonight was the public declaration. She stood barefoot with thick, soft grass tickling between her toes. The gentle and relaxing sound of the lake lapped behind her as she stared up at the house from the bottom of the garden. Fireflies zipped through the air, drawn to the tiny white bud lights that adorned the huge maple and beech trees. Torches surrounded the now-empty dance floor, casting delicious flickers of light and shade, and just beyond, on the terrace, she could make out the silhouette of Aphrodite—the slowly dripping ice sculpture that had graced the buffet table. The scene looked like a magical kingdom and the hours and hours of meticulous planning she’d put into it had all paid off. It was exactly how she’d imagined it. Picture-perfect.
A woman marched onto the terrace and into the picture. Bridey instantly recognized the walk—stiff, tightly wound and perfectly controlled. Mom. Then silver flashed in the night light and her father appeared, followed quickly by a woman younger than her mother who immediately slipped her arm through his as if staking her claim and declaring to all, “he’s mine.” Stepmom.
It didn’t take long before big brother joined the group, standing next to their mother and flanking her like a protective guard as he always did on the very few occasions the Callahan clan actually came together. The last time had been two years ago when she’d finished her master’s and had been accepted into the PhD program to study twentieth-century American literature. She held her breath, willing the picture to hold.
This night had been close to perfect but that had been when one hundred and fifty people had separated her family. Surely they could hold it together for just a tiny bit longer. She glimpsed a man stepping through the French doors, his height equal to that of her father and brother. The lights caught his hair, giving it a golden glow like the sun god, Apollo, and her heart fluttered in her chest. Hank. His usual stance—that of a man at ease in the world—held a tremor of uncertainty as he deliberated exactly where to
stand. Wisely, he chose Switzerland and took his place between her parents.
She smiled, loving Hank with every fiber of her being. He was her soul mate. She’d been so busy planning their engagement party that she hadn’t seen much of him in the last few weeks so she couldn’t wait to wake up next to him tomorrow morning and start their vacation together. But right now it was time to rescue him. No one deserved to deal with her family en masse and unprotected. As Bridey picked up her shoes and commenced walking toward the group, her mother’s tense voice drifted across the garden. “Where’s Bridget? I need to say good-night before I leave.”
“You don’t have to stay in Whitetail, Kathleen.” Her stepmother, Dana, seemed to draw even closer to Sean. “You’re welcome to use the guest cottage.”
Oh, no, here we go. The scene—picture-perfect when empty—was suddenly shredding at the edges. Bridey knew that a smile-cum-grimace would be pulling the skin taut across her mother’s cheeks.
“That’s very gracious of you, Dana.” The tone said it was anything but.
“Kathleen.” Sean’s voice rolled out on a growl.
Daddy, no. Bridey knew the exact effect her father’s warning tone would have on her mother. Please don’t bring up the divorce settlement and remind Mom how she lost the cottage. She started to run.
“Sean, I didn’t design the cottage for the convenience of your other wives.”
“The invitation was well meant.” Dana’s tone conveyed resignation.
Sean patted his current wife’s hand.
Finn’s hand rested on the small of his mother’s back as if to spin her away. “I’ll drive you to Whitetail now, Mom. I have to go to the police department anyway.”
With his usual lightning-fast decisions, big brother had come to the rescue of his mother yet again, protecting her against their father even though she didn’t need it. Kathleen Callahan had been self-sufficient for years and intolerant of those who were not.
Bridey’s feet hit the terrace and she came into the circle of light, grabbing Hank’s hand. “What a wonderful party. I just know everyone had the best time.”
Her family turned toward her, mouths tightly closed and their silence speaking volumes.
Hank squeezed her hand but his smile was weary. “Mom and Dad are so sorry they missed the party.”
A lump formed in her throat, making it hard to swallow, and tears pricked the backs of her eyes, but she refused to cry. She would not cry. She’d wanted everything to be perfect, needed everything to be perfect, and her first attempt had fallen short. Hank’s parents hadn’t made it and her family looked like they were sucking on lemons.
She gave herself a tiny shake. She knew perfection took hard work and she’d never been one to walk away from that and she wasn’t about to start now. Life was a series of steps that needed to be taken in the correct order so that everything fell into place. For her, these steps started with a big engagement party and finished with a huge wedding. Her parents hadn’t taken all the steps and their marriage had ended in divorce.
No way was Bridey getting divorced. She was going to do everything right. However, the tiny fact that she’d been the one to propose to Hank had her stressing that they’d already started out wrong, breaking the proper order of things—which is why she now had an elaborate plan. A plan to right things in her world, to realign the universe and to appease all or any deities to ensure her future happiness with Hank. Nothing or no one was going to get in her way.
* * *
“I’m Finn Callahan and I’ve come down as requested to check the charge sheet against Donna whoever-she-is.” Resignation clung to his words because more than anything he wished he was home in his quiet cabin, free of women, free of family and in a place where he could forget the whole miserable night.
The police chief, looking as weary as most people do at one in the morning, rose to his feet and joined him on the other side of the counter. “Thanks for coming down, Mr. Callahan.”
“No problem. This is going to be quick, isn’t it?”
“I’m hoping so.”
“Hey, Rory, I got us some hot choc— Oh.”
What the hell? Finn spun around at the sound of a very familiar smoky voice.
Donna stood stock-still clutching two steaming mugs. Except for her voice, her French nails and a fading black eye, she was unrecognizable. Gone were the high heels and evening dress, and in their place she wore red canvas shoes ripped-at-the-knee jeans and a blue hoodie. Her face was now scrubbed clean of ruined makeup, making her eyes seem larger than ever, but the biggest surprise was her hair. What had seemed to be a mousy blah color when wet was now a startling white-blond with sun-kissed streaks of gold. Instead of being swept up in a French chignon, it was pulled back in a simple ponytail which made her look ridiculously innocent and wholesome instead of designer and predatory. Then he remembered her mouth—full of delicious sin—and how he’d lost total control.
Anger at himself, as well as her, surged back and he turned around, slapping the counter. “Why isn’t she in a cell?”
The police chief calmly stood his ground. “She was wet and cold so I sent her home for a hot shower before she caught a cold. She knew she had to come back.”
“She lives here?” He’d assumed she was a stringer from Chicago, plying her trade with the trashy publications of the big city.
“I’ll just go sit in the cell.” Donna put down one of the mugs and hot chocolate slopped over the side, creating a brown river that snaked its way toward the paperwork. “Oh, sorry.” She grabbed a wad of tissues out of her pocket as if they’d been there for the express purpose of cleaning up a self-induced mess.
“No, you need to stay here.” The policeman sipped his hot chocolate. “This is good, Anni.”
“It’s the marshmallows. I whipped them in.”
Finn shook his head trying to clear the stands of fatigue that were stealing his concentration. Anni? Her name was Donna. Nothing was matching up here except her clumsiness. “Excuse me for interrupting ‘top tips for making hot chocolate,’ but can we focus on why we’re here...” he read the chief’s name badge, “...Chief Gunderson. This woman broke into my father’s house.”
She wriggled her nose like a bunny rabbit and her shoulders squirmed. “Well, technically I did, but not really. I’m sorry for how it looks and I can explain everything.”
Cutesy didn’t cut it with him but worse than that she was doing that thing she did with her teeth. His gaze slid to her plump bottom lip and his mouth filled with the memory of its cushion softness and intoxicating taste. Part of him yearned to kiss her again. Yeah, right, like that’s really going to help. She’s a liar and an information thief.
He stared at her left shoulder and fought to find his emotionless but analytical thinking that he prided himself on. Did she think he was wet behind the ears? He and his father ran a business that employed thousands of people in and out of the country and he’d pretty much heard every excuse in the book. “It’s too late for sorry, Donna, and the only explaining you have to do is to a judge.”
She looked him straight in the eye. “Actually, I’m Annika. Annika Jacobson.”
He sighed. “I don’t care what the hell your name is. It makes no difference to the fact you broke the law.” He turned to the chief. “Does it?”
Rory reached for the now damp and c
hocolate-stained charge sheet. “Technically, no.”
Finn smiled. There was nothing like the facts to simplify things and clear them of the chaos of emotions. “There you go. You not only broke into the house with the intention of getting information to sell, you also used an alias and lied about why you wanted to meet my father.”
“I’m not a journalist and I didn’t lie about why I wanted to meet your father.” Her voice was unexpectedly firm.
He didn’t believe her. “If that’s the truth then you have a funny way of doing things.”
“Mr. Callahan, you’re quite correct.” Rory Gunderson’s expression was a combination of paternal concern and professional patience. “Technically she broke the law. However, I’m uncomfortable arresting Whitetail’s acting mayor over what I believe to be a misunderstanding.”
Finn stared at her in disbelief. Not now, or even when she’d been wearing wet evening wear, had she looked anything like a local official. “You’re the mayor?”
Her shoulders rose and fell in a self-deprecating shrug and a faint blush pinked her cheeks. “It’s a bit of a long story, but I’m standing in until the next elections.”
Heat licked at him, warming his blood. Again. The only explanation for this unwanted reaction was it had been way too long since he’d had sex. Hell, he could fix that. He vowed right there and then that first thing in the morning he was heading to Chicago and calling one of his many standby girlfriends who happily dropped everything to have dinner with him. Dinner and sex. Women who didn’t wear faded jeans that curved around their ass like a glove.
“Being mayor doesn’t absolve you from breaking and entering.”
Her chin tilted up and her eyes flashed, all contrition gone. “If AKP Industries had any manners, I would never have climbed through that window!”
