by Dawn Temple
“The movie with the little blond kid who kicks butt against a couple of criminals?”
“That’s the one. And no fair rooting for the bad guys.”
“Who, me? I’m all about justice.”
“No, you’re all about rich clients and good PR.” As soon as the words were out, she cringed, obviously wishing she could take them back, but since she’d broached the subject, he figured the ground rules no longer held. It was the opportunity he’d been waiting for and he couldn’t afford to waste it.
“Who says justice and public relations have to be mutually exclusive?”
All her humor and lightheartedness instantly retreated. “Surely you don’t honestly believe Walker’s offer has anything to do with justice? He’s just trying to buy back his credibility.”
“And isn’t that a form of justice? Admitting to past mistakes and taking steps to rectify them?”
“How can it be true justice without punishment—on his part?”
Warming to the topic, Kyle leaned forward, his hands resting on his knees. “He’s offering to pay you a million dollars. That kind of a fine sounds like steep punishment to me.”
“It’s not a fine when he insists on getting something in exchange.”
“What he’s asking for won’t cost you anything but a little of your time.”
Her spine went rigid, giving her small frame an impressive air of power that almost overshadowed the shimmer of tears in her expressive amber eyes. “What about my integrity? My self-respect? My daddy’s reputation? If I accept Walker’s guilt money, I’ll lose all of those.”
“Shayna, I know it’s hard, but you can’t look at this situation emotionally.” He softened his tone, wanting to soothe rather than agitate. “It’s a business deal, pure and simple, and it benefits everyone involved.”
“What about you? How do you benefit?”
“This isn’t about me. I’ve simply been hired to execute the paperwork.”
She eyed him shrewdly. “But you have a vested interest in seeing that things work out in Walker’s favor.”
“Yes.”
“More than just a vested interest, I’d say, if you followed me halfway across the country. What’s in this for you?”
Under normal circumstances, Kyle would never discuss his personal stakes, but these weren’t normal circumstances. “Dr. Walker is one of our firm’s most influential clients. Handling this case is my final step to making partner.”
“Aren’t you kind of young to be a partner?”
“I’ll be the youngest by ten years, but I’ve worked my entire life to earn the honor. It’s all I’ve ever wanted, and I’m very determined when it comes to achieving my goals.”
“Determined enough to align yourself with manipulative, dishonest people like Dr. Walker?”
He opened his mouth, not sure if he planned to defend Walker or himself, but she cut him off.
“Never mind. I can’t talk about this anymore tonight.” She clutched the bundle of red fabric and stood. “I think I’ll call it a day.”
Ordinarily, at this point in a debate, with his opponent so obviously on the ropes, Kyle would force the issue and seize victory. Tonight, however, with Shayna, he couldn’t stomach the idea of kicking her while she was down.
“But it’s only seven-thirty.”
“I guess I’m more tired than I thought.” The slump in her shoulders and the lines between her brows spoke more of weariness than sleepiness.
“What about the movie?” he asked, suddenly desperate for her to stay and relax. He wanted to see the joy return to her face.
A wistful look flashed across her face. “It is one of my favorites.”
“Then don’t go. No more shoptalk tonight. I promise.”
Her eyebrows twitched, her doubt a tangible force in the room. “Then whatever will we talk about?”
He heard the flicker of humor return to her voice. Not bothering to fight back his grin, he gestured to the sofa. “So, what’s the deal with the ball of red fabric?”
Her look of relief was almost comical. “It’s my costume for the upcoming Noel Festival. I’m Ms. Noel.”
“So you’re the star of the show?”
She eased back down on the sofa, favoring him with a tentative smile before feeding a length of red thread through a needle. “More like head volunteer. Ms. Noel serves as hostess for all the festival’s fundraising events.”
“Ah, local Christmas traditions. Definite social chitchat kind of stuff. Tell me more.”
“Wellll.” She drew the word out, her lips puckering as if she were shooting him a kiss across the room. “Everything kicks off Saturday night with the Junior Miss Noel Pageant. Ms. Noel serves as the master of ceremonies. Then Sunday is the countywide toy drive.”
“Will the weather clear up enough for you to make both events?”
“If it doesn’t, I’ll just have to hike back to town. Can’t have the Noel Festival without Ms. Noel.” Her fingers flew over the dress’s edge.
“That’s some pretty powerful optimism you have there.”
“What’s the alternative? Walk around expecting the worst? That’s no fun.”
“Life isn’t always about having fun,” he pointed out.
“Trust me, I’m well aware of that. But what have you got to lose by choosing sunshine over gloom and doom?”
He leaned back in his chair, his fingers linked across his chest. “Nothing, I guess, but being prepared helps mitigate the damage when the inevitable gloom and doom hits.”
Shayna rolled here eyes. “No, it doesn’t. Sitting around waiting for bad things to happen doesn’t make them any less horrible. It just makes life miserable all the time.”
“So you’re saying we should skip around whistling a happy tune all the time and ignore reality?”
“I’m saying we should skip and whistle whenever we can, so we have happy memories to fight for when trouble comes. If you don’t treasure the sunshine, why even bother fighting against the gloom and doom?”
Damn good thing it was a rhetorical question, because Kyle, whose life had been sorely lacking in sunshine, sure as hell didn’t have an answer.
Chapter Five
After a night of too much thinking and too little sleeping, Kyle finally crawled out of bed around 8:00 a.m. For the first time in his career, his objectivity was slipping.
Shayna was getting to him, working her way around his emotional shields, tempting him to care. She’d even gotten him to break his cardinal rule against talking about his past.
He had to put an end to this growing connection, had to find a way to keep her firmly in the opposition role, to stop seeing her as a desirable, intriguing woman he wanted to spend a week in bed with.
His body sprung to full attention at the idea of a naked, sleepy Shayna in his bed. “Holy hell.” He threw back the covers and sat up, rubbing a hand over his face. Never in his life had he been this affected by one particular woman, and he damned sure didn’t like it.
The cabin was dead quiet when he opened the bedroom door. A weak, ashy light strained through the sheer curtains, signaling what he assumed was this morning’s lack of sunshine. In the kitchen, he found the coffeemaker set and ready to go. All he had to do was push the green button and wait.
The heady scent of morning brew gave a few of his brain cells a head start. Behind him, he heard a click-clack and turned just in time for Brinks to jump on his chest rather than his back. He staggered under the dog’s weight.
In place of last night’s toothy scowl, the beast wore what could only be described as a grin. His tail wagged fast enough to power a small country.
“Good morning, Dr. Jekyll. I met your alter ego last night.”
The dog woofed, then jumped down and made a beeline for the back door. Understanding the urgency, Kyle let him out. A thin sheet of ice coated everything. Both his and Brinks’s breath turned to steam in the frigid morning air.
Under different circumstances, he might find the scene
beautiful. The world looked clean and calm. But today, he didn’t want clean and calm. He wanted to wrap things up and be on his way. He needed to get back to his world, to claim his partnership and move forward with his life.
Back inside, the coffeemaker dinged. Kyle called the dog and they hustled inside. With his first, vital cup of coffee in hand, he began pacing the quiet confines of Shayna’s home.
His brain spun at warp speed, contemplating how to turn this roadblock into his advantage. He had to find a way to capitalize on having Shayna’s undivided attention, because by God, when the roads and bridges cleared, he would have his life and his career back on track.
Thinking of the bridge reminded him of last night’s accident and the e-mail he hadn’t gotten to read. Anticipating the key to getting this job done, he stalked back into his room and dug his cell phone out of his briefcase. He flipped open the phone. Good battery, zero reception. Damn.
He quickly layered on all the dry clothing he had, both his and hers, and after stuffing the phone in his pocket, headed for the front yard to hunt for an active cell signal. He jerked the sweatshirt’s hood over his head and carefully navigated his way across her front yard. Frozen grass crunched beneath his feet like broken glass.
The bars on his phone popped up, then died away again as he took another step. He backed up and quickly opened his inbox. He had several other messages waiting, but at the moment, he was only interested in reading Amanda’s report.
No adoption records for the minor Shayna Hoyt.
Checked birth certificate files and found one in Mass for Shayna Hoyt, father unknown, and another in Tenn, same dates and vitals, listing father as James Miller. Patricia Hoyt listed as mother in both records.
Kyle reread the message twice.
Damn. No wonder she didn’t want Dr. Walker outed as her birth father. If the truth were revealed, Shayna Miller would cease to exist, because duplicate birth certificates could mean only one thing: one was forged. And if James Miller had forged Shayna’s birth certificate, that meant he’d never been legally granted permanent custody of her when she was seven, as they’d both claimed.
This was what he’d been waiting on. The key to Shayna’s cooperation, the ammunition he needed to get this case wrapped up quickly.
Heart heavy, Kyle returned the phone to his pocket and turned back toward the house.
So where the hell was his usual rush of victory?
She’d overslept. A very rare occurrence. Normally, Brinks’s bladder was more reliable than any alarm clock. Shayna rolled over and stretched her legs toward the foot of the bed, feeling around for the dog.
Nothing but heavy covers and cool sheets. Prying her eyelids open, she squinted at the murky light filling her room. Wow. She’d really overslept.
Throwing off the covers, she sat up and dropped her bare feet to the floor. A whistle flew from her lips as she immediately yanked her warm toes off the icy hardwood. Thinking longingly of the thick socks she’d dropped on Kyle’s bed last night, she hopped up and scurried to the bathroom, where her slippers waited. When she’d finished up in the bathroom and returned to her room, she found Brinks sprawled across her bed.
“Good morning, handsome. Thanks for letting me sleep in.”
The big old softie rolled over and showed her his belly. Unable to resist, she complied with his silent request. His coarse fur was freezing. Looked as if her guest had his good points after all.
“Did you thank Kyle for letting you out?”
The dog barked in response and raced back downstairs. Shayna followed, much more slowly, wishing she shared a smidge of the dog’s enthusiasm for the coming day.
Last night had not gone according to plan.
First was the off-the-chart surge of lust, where she’d nearly attacked him at the dinner table. Honestly, she didn’t know what had gotten into her. It’s not as if he was the first good-looking man she’d met. So why did this man—so determined to stir up things she wanted to forget—pack such a wallop?
Then he’d opened up, shared details about his life she was sure he generally kept close to the vest. That glimpse of vulnerability made him even more attractive to her.
Still, she’d nearly gotten the evening back on track, then—bam!—before she knew what had happened, they’d been hip deep in a discussion about Walker, the very thing she’d sworn to avoid.
She hadn’t been in any kind of shape mentally to tackle that subject, and Kyle had knocked her for another loop when he’d offered a cease-fire rather than deliver a crushing verbal blow.
Talk about a welcome surprise.
Downstairs, the invigorating aroma of fresh coffee filled the cabin. She trod quietly into the den, her glance taking in the open door to the spare room.
“Kyle?”
The bathroom that connected to his room had a door that opened directly into the main room, and it was open, as well. Where the devil was he? She hoped he hadn’t tried to walk back down the road in those slippery leather shoes of his. He was likely to break his fool neck.
Worried, she started to rush to the mudroom for her boots, but a dark shape caught her attention through the front window. Shayna inched closer and saw Kyle, standing in the middle of the front yard, hunched against the wind, the hood of her old sweatshirt pulled over his head, his BlackBerry held a few inches in front of his nose.
Amazed that he’d found a signal, she headed for the kitchen and the waiting coffee. Brinks laid sprawled in front of the refrigerator, his favorite spot downstairs. According to the coffeemaker, it was a quarter past nine. Shayna fixed herself a cup and headed through the mudroom, pulling on her toasty work coat and slipping her feet into her heavy boots before stepping out on the back porch. Brinks flew past her, making a mad dash for some unseen critter in the woods.
She could see the wind blowing through the trees, but the three-sided porch protected her from the blast. Apparently, a corner of her brain had been hoping the weatherman had made a mistake, but the heavy, gray clouds and the icicle lawn proved he’d gotten it right.
Hands huddled around her steaming mug, she let her gaze wander over the yard. In the far corner, her garden drooped under the damaging ice. Those veggies were vital to making her budget stretch. She couldn’t afford to lose the whole lot to bad weather.
Grabbing an empty bushel basket, she carefully picked her way across the slippery lawn. The frost stung her bare fingers as she harvested the last of her fall produce. Eggplant, carrots, broccoli, onions, a few wrinkled bell peppers, and a good mess of beans. Since they weren’t expecting a hard freeze, she left the potatoes tucked in the earth.
Hope Kyle doesn’t mind a vegetable cornucopia for Thanksgiving dinner. Though she did have a ham and some frozen garden veggies in the freezer…and she knew she had all the ingredients for green bean casserole. That was supposed to be her contribution to dinner at Lindy’s.
Shoot! She needed to call and let Lindy know she was fine and dandy but wouldn’t make Thanksgiving. She whistled for Brinks. The dog came running, his tongue hanging out of lips that she’d have sworn were smiling.
On her way back inside, she stopped and rummaged through the freezer, unearthing an eight-pound ham. The frozen meat burned her fingers, and she dashed over and dropped their main course in the sink. Grabbing the phone with one hand and stoppering the sink with the other, Shayna glanced out the window behind the table. Kyle still stood in the same spot, in the same position.
Once she had the ham covered, she turned off the water and dialed Lindy’s number. Travis answered on the second ring.
“Hey, Shayna. How’s the weather up there?”
“Perfect, if you like icy and isolated.”
“We were afraid you’d be stuck.”
“Well, I haven’t tried the roads yet, but judging by last night’s rain and this morning’s temps—” not to mention her guest’s eyewitness account “—I’m pretty sure the bridge’ll be an icy mess.”
“Are you okay up there? Got everythin
g you need?” It was so like Travis to ask.
“I’ll be fine. The propane tank’s full, and I just picked a whole bushel of vegetables. It might not be a traditional Thanksgiving, but we’ll survive.”
She crinkled her eyes at her accidental use of the plural pronoun, but Travis must have assumed she meant her and the dog, because he didn’t comment. They exchanged holiday wishes before he handed the phone off to his wife.
“I knew you should have spent the night with us.”
“Then Brinks would be iced in all by himself. I couldn’t let that happen.” She carried the portable phone over to the fireplace and began poking at the embers. “Besides, it’s not like we’re going to die up here. It’s just a couple of days, and I’ve already assured Travis we have all the basic necessities covered.”
“Good. But you’re going to miss dinner with the family.”
Shayna could hear the tears welling in her friend’s voice. Pregnancy hormones had turned Lindy into a drop-of-the-hat crier.
She stuck the phone between her chin and shoulder and muscled a couple logs into the fireplace. “The ice should melt in time for me to drop by for leftovers in a few days, and that’s my favorite part anyway.”
Lindy sniffled. “Okay.”
Just then, the front door pushed open. Shayna covered the mouthpiece with her hand and stood. Kyle reentered the cabin, a blast of cold air sneaking in with him, blowing through the cabin and fanning the flames Shayna was stoking.
Barely aware of Lindy’s voice in her ear, Shayna stared as he pushed the hood off his head. His sapphire eyes darkened as they focused on her lips. Staring at him, she had to remind herself to breathe. A cowlick stuck out from the top of his blond head, and his face was as red as a child in a Norman Rockwell Christmas print. But despite his cherubic look, he was all man, and her body knew it.
“Shayna!” Lindy’s high-pitched voice reclaimed Shayna’s lost attention.
“Sorry. What?” She backed up and rested her bottom on the arm of the couch as Kyle moved next to her, holding his wide, strong hands out toward the heat of the fire.
