by Kathryn Shay
Stay with Me
by Kathryn Shay
Praise for Stay with Me
“With generously created characters and smooth romantic interplay, Finally a Family goes on the list of Kathryn Shay’s top-notch love stories.” RT Book Reviews
“Only a romance reader who's been living under a rock wouldn't know who author Kathryn Shay is. In Finally a Family, Kathryn Shay’s commitment to research shows. These people who work for Guardian are realistically portrayed, down to their tears and their despair when they've lost a patient. You'll be intrigued with this couple who may finally have gotten it right.” The Romance Reader
“In Finally a Family, Kathryn Shay, whose firefighter series was a blazing success, scores with another triumph that echoes the need of love and understanding to forge a bonded family.” Affaire de Coeur
Previously Titled Finally A Family
Copyright 2011, Kathryn Shay
Cover art by Rogenna
http://sweettoheat.blogspot.com
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Table of Contents
Praise For Stay With Me
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Epilogue
About Kathryn Shay
Ties That Bind
CHAPTER ONE
SPENCE KEAGAN WAS not a happy man. Then again, his mood always turned foul when they lost somebody. Both he and his paramedic, Teddy Ford, were grim-faced and miserly with their words as Spence headed the helicopter home to Guardian Flight Base. As they dipped and circled, he wondered why he’d ever taken this job at the upstate New York medevac unit on Catasaga Lake, let alone stayed for twelve years.
“This is Aircraft GB Number One. I have a visual on base. One minute out.” Spence spoke wearily into the headset. His solemn tone was mirrored by the dispatcher on the other end. “Copy. Proceed with landing. Ground crew is in place.”
The cabin shimmied as Spence decreased speed by easing back the stick. Blades whirred overhead so fast they could cut a man to ribbons. He’d seen a helicopter accident or two in Nam and they were not pretty sights. Slowly the chopper descended, but Spence experienced none of the usual thrill and satisfaction of landing his baby, a B0105, back at the base.
He didn’t realize how loudly he’d sighed until he whipped off his headset. Teddy, who’d already ditched his, asked, “You okay?”
Unstrapping the crisscross of seat belts, Spence scowled. “Yep.” He shut off the engine and slid open the door. Leaping from the aircraft into bright afternoon sunlight, he purposely schooled his face into a neutral expression and quelled the regret—and the tiny pinprick of guilt—that always accompanied a death.
Stiff upper lip, his father used to say. Well, that was about the only area where he and Judd Keagan were in sync. Spence never shared his feelings with others at work. Hell, he rarely let them surface at all.
He nodded to the two-man ground crew who’d set up the dolly for the ship to land, and headed into the base, entering through the massive hangar where the helicopter was housed. It smelled of gasoline, though the late spring scents of the earth—rich dirt and freshly mowed grass—had crept into the bay, too. Behind him, Teddy stopped to talk to the crew about restocking the passenger compartment.
As he yanked open the door to the hub of the base, a low rumble of voices drifted out from the office areas. No joy in Mudville tonight, Spence thought. Just as they rejoiced over a save, the entire staff of Guardian—about thirty-eight people—mourned the losses.
Unnoticed, Spence slipped into the hushed atmosphere of the main reception area; he moved quietly toward the conference room where a crowd had gathered. Standing outside the door, he noted that his coworkers had formed a semicircle around somebody up front. Probably another of the infernal visitors Guardian Flight Base attracted. Damn organization was like a tourist stop some days. Evan Redman, director of development, and not Spence’s favorite person, accompanied whomever was the object of attention. Hair slicked off his forehead, decked out in a navy blue sports coat—the guest must be brass—Redman’s PR smile was plastered on his jowly face. Just then, Betty Thomas, secretary to the owner of Guardian, stepped aside, allowing Spence an unobstructed view of the visitor.
She was clearly suit material. About five-seven, and rail thin, the woman carried herself with military precision—shoulders back, chin up, Ten-shun, yes, sir general! Her light brown hair was scraped back from her face into a knot at her neck just like Spence’s kindergarten teacher had worn. As a matter of fact, she looked a little like Miss Pitts, with her bony chin, narrow cheeks and pinched mouth. Was the woman in pain? His gaze traveled downward. He shook his head; for the life of him he couldn’t figure out why some women trussed themselves up like eighteenth century matrons. Navy suit. Brass buttons to the neck. Skirt that ended just above her knees. The top was boxy, so he couldn’t tell if she had much of a chest, no hips to speak of. Not his idea of female beauty. Give him Jenna any day.
“Who is she?” Teddy asked, ambling up beside him
Spence glanced over at his colleague and the closest friend he had. Teddy’s black skin was sallow and his dark eyes troubled. “Dunno.” Spence turned. “Don’t want to.” He hated dealing with suits; they reminded him of his father. And thinking about his father reminded him of his son, Jeff. Edging away, he headed toward the computer room at the right, which held all the equipment needed to run Guardian. A hand on his shoulder stopped him just as he reached the door.
“Keag?”
The owner of Guardian Flight Base, and the nicest guy Spence had ever met, stood behind him. His tanned face was soft with understanding. “I’m sorry.
Spence shrugged.
“He was dead when you got there?”
“No, just after, though.”
“Can I do anything?”
“Nope.”
Piercing—knowing—brown eyes studied him for a minute. “Fine. You can do something for me.”
“What?”
“Meet our newest potential sponsor.”
Guardian was a privately owned, nonprofit organization, funded solely by corporations, grants and personal donations. Clearly, Suit Lady was of the corporate persuasion. “I’d rather not, Grant.” He winced at his surly tone, but the loss of a patient always made him irritable. He wanted to be alone. He hated being asked to impress some hotshot executive who might give them money if they were good little boys.
“It would help if the chief pilot welcomed her.”
“Big bucks?” Spence asked, already weakening. He’d walk through fire for the man before him, and they both knew it.
“Possible funding for the entire new ship.”
Spence’s mouth dropped. Just over one million was a lot of moola to get from one corporation. “Where’s she from?”
“Castle Enterprises.”
“I’ve heard of them.”
“Everybody’s heard of them. They’re a huge conglomerate, head
quarters in Rochester and offices all over the world. Between their medical group and the aerodynamics division, they’re the biggest player on the block. The Castle Foundation gets good press because of their philanthropic efforts, of course.” Grant grinned. “Think you can meet her if she might buy you a new helicopter?”
Spence rolled his eyes. “Who’s she?” he asked as they started to the conference room.
“The next CEO.”
Glancing at the frail woman holding court with the employees, Spence shook his head. “Tell me something I’d believe.”
“She is. Alexis Castle is the only child of Austin Castle and heir apparent to the conglomerate.”
Just my type, Spence thought sarcastically as he walked toward Miss Alexis.
o0o
THE PAIN BURNED in Alexis’s stomach. As she listened to Evan Redman relate the history of Guardian—facts she already knew, of course—she pressed her hand to her middle, willing away the white-hot agony. Foolish, she knew. For three years, she’d battled the ulcer, which had eventually leveled her. The antacids in her purse would help but she wasn’t sure how to ferret them out unobtrusively. Damn, she’d thought the hospitalization, strict diet, medication and rest had done their job, but apparently not. Of course the scene with her daughter, Jamie, this morning hadn’t helped.
She could still picture her fourteen-year-old’s eyebrows—one of which painfully sported a gold ring— arch in shock, and hear her incredulous voice, “You’re going where? I thought we were spending the summer down here on the lake together and you weren’t gonna work.”
“Listen, sweetie, it’s just a day or two a week. It’ll keep me busy.”
Jamie’s dark eyes, so unlike her own, flared with adolescent outrage. She’d tossed back her bleached shoulder-length hair, snapped, “Sure Mom, whatever,” and, in a typical teenage pique, stormed out of Aunt Clare’s cottage where they were living for the summer Alexis’s aunt had fallen a few months ago and hurt her hip, so she’d moved in with her daughter Portia next door. They’d graciously offered Clare’s cottage when Alexis had told them she planned to summer on Catasaga Lake.
“Excuse me?” Alexis said, aware of someone else standing in front of her.
Grant Richards stood beside a man she hadn’t met yet. “Alexis, I’d like you to meet our head pilot, Spence Keagan. Spence this is Alexis Castle.”
She nodded. “Mr. Keagan.” The corporate smile she gave him slipped when she looked directly into his face. Nothing unusual about that face, except maybe the thin, white scar that ran along his left temple. Even that was barely visible. Normal nose. Square-cut jaw. Full head of sandy-brown hair with a few streaks of gray. But it was his eyes that caught her attention. She detected an immediate dislike in them, one that stopped her.
Only for a minute. Take command right away, Alexis, Austin Castle had drilled into her. If you want to make it in the business world, assert yourself from the start with the men who’ll challenge you.
Would Spence Keagan challenge her? Maybe. But that was nothing she couldn’t handle. Without missing a beat, she held out her hand. “Nice to meet you.”
His handshake was firm, matching hers. “Same here.”
“Ms. Castle will be visiting off and on all summer, Grant,” Evan Redman declared. “Did you know that?”
Keagan looked as if he might swallow his tongue. His chest expanded a bit, pulling the zippered navy flight suit taut across his chest. Well, it was somewhat of an unusual situation. Alexis rarely stayed that long at a place to determine its suitability for funding.
Richards smiled easily. “Yes, I knew that. She’s vacationing in the area and plans to evaluate us while she’s here.”
Alexis watched a neutral mask close down the pilot’s face. She used a similar maneuver to cover her own reactions.
Don’t let anybody know they’ve fazed you, kiddo, her father advised. As far as she knew, only one thing had ever thrown Austin Castle. His son Brody’s untimely death. She shook off thoughts of her brother before they could sadden her.
“I’m looking forward to being here.” She held Keagan’s gaze, daring him to say out loud what he didn’t conceal in his eyes. I’m not.
“Great,” Keagan said simply. “Nice to meet you, Miss Castle. I’m off for a week, so I won’t be around for a while.” He sounded relieved. “But Jack Smith will be in charge and can show you everything.”
From her research, Alexis knew pilots and paramedics worked seven days or nights on, seven off; she was irrationally glad she wouldn’t have to see the man again for a while. Something about those eyes...
“Thank you, Mr. Keagan.” She faced Richards, intentionally dismissing the pilot. From the corner of her eye, she caught his smile, as if he recognized the tactic and was amused by it.
Well, she wouldn’t take it personally. A lot of people resented her when she came in to evaluate their company—whether she was deciding to give them money or close them down. And she had bigger fish to fry right now, so she wiped Spence Keagan from her mind. Her ability to focus—not the fact that she was Austin Castle’s daughter—was what had made her the candidate for the next CEO of Castle Enterprises
Her stomach clenched in pain.
And it was her single-mindedness, of course, that had given her the ulcer.
But now wasn’t the time to deal with her illness.
o0o
“I MUST BE ADOPTED.” Jamie Castle uttered the words under her breath as she watched her mother stare at the bedroom mirror as if she’d seen Freddy Krueger and not a reflection of herself dressed down for a change.
“What did you say, honey?” The groove that sometimes seemed permanent in her mother’s forehead deepened.
“I said I must be adopted.” Jamie flipped onto her back on the bed and glanced down at her own wildly flowered short overalls and glittery orange crop top. Cool black high-tops completed one of her favorite outfits.
In a minute, Alexis Castle—The Mother, not The Businesswoman—sat down next to her. The groove was gone. “It isn’t that I don’t like the clothes you picked out, Jame.” She fingered the strap of the hot pink tank top that still looked good, despite the weight she’d lost, and yanked at the hem of the lime green shorts. “These are just a little short.”
“Duh! That’s why they call ‘em shorts, Mother.”
A pretty smile flitted across her mom’s lips. God, Jamie loved it when she smiled. “Are all the ones you bought me this short?”
“Nah, I got some spandex that come to your knees.”
“Spandex?”
“Yeah, for the bike rides we’re going on.”
This time, her mother got The Horrified Look on her face. Alexis Castle was a genius Harvard grad, but a real ditz in the physical activity department. Jamie studied her, deciding which card to play. “Hey, you’re the one who had the lunch meeting at the mall and told me to go buy you some lake clothes.”
Her mother leaned over and ruffled Jamie’s hair. It felt good. “What could I have been thinking of?”
Jamie twisted the knife. “Your job, of course.”
Geez, there was the hurt in her mom’s eyes again. To regain the teasing mood she’d just doused like a pan of water on a campfire, Jamie rolled over, then sprang to her feet. Though she hated organized sports, she could run rings around the jocks at the private school she attended a half hour away in Rochester, where they lived most of the time. Correction, where she lived. The next CEO of Castle Enterprises traveled like a nomad a good part of the year. “Never mind. Change if you want. But hurry up. I wanna get over to Portia’s. I’m starved.”
Somber, Alexis rose. Jamie swore silently at herself. She didn’t mean to upset her mother, but sometimes they were like oil and water. Suddenly a scary vision came back to Jamie. Her mom, collapsed on the office floor, white as death, clutching her stomach. Jamie had vowed then never to upset her again, and was ashamed of herself for not keeping her promise.
“Did you get me shoes, too?”
Using a gentler tone, Jamie said, “Yep. In the closet.”
She watched from the doorway as her mother stifled another grimace when she yanked out neat hot-pink sneakers. After she pulled them on, they headed out of the first-floor bedroom, through Aunt Clare’s old house to the porch; they took the deck steps quickly and crossed over to cousin Portia’s house next door.
Behind her mother now, Jamie noticed Alexis’s hair was out of its torture knot but yanked back into a pearl clip at the base of her neck. Reaching up, Jamie released the fastener. Her mother’s light brown hair tumbled to her shoulders and even dared to curl some at the ends. Before Alexis could comment, Portia stepped out through the sliding glass doors of her mag house. It was a cool one-story that she’d had built on the empty property next to the home where she’d grown up. Covered in slate-blue aluminum siding, with black shutters, it caught the late afternoon sun and glistened like a jewel. A couple of peaks on either end were second- floor bedrooms, but the main house was one floor, open and breezy and modern, just like the lady who owned it.
“Hi, guys,” Portia said cheerfully. Now there was a woman who knew how to show her stuff. Portia McPherson—all five feet of her—was decked out in a leopard halter top and metallic black shorts that she filled out just right. On her feet were cool clogs. Her inky hair fell in thick waves down her back and sported a widow’s peak in the front center, accenting her violet eyes. Jamie’s second cousin definitely had style. “Hey, Jame, where’s your mom? And who’s this wild-looking creature with you?”
Jamie giggled. Her mother rolled her eyes. Portia pretended a double take. “Oh, my God, is this...is it...by God, it is. Lexy returns.”
Smiling at the antics, Jamie knew that Portia and her mother had spent summers together on the lake when they were kids, and her cousin always called her mom Lexy. When they’d arrived a couple of days ago, the two women had actually gotten all teary-eyed over seeing each other again. Geez, grown-ups. They were about as predictable as spring in Rochester.