by Abby Gaines
* * *
JANE HAD TO RESPECT HIS single-mindedness. She’d delivered a sucker punch with her revelation, but he was still standing, still fighting to “protect” his daughter.
As if Lissa’s daughter needed protecting from her. Jane’s decision to donate her eggs had been all about their friendship—in all its glory and its flaws. She would do anything for Lissa, and by extension, for Daisy.
She didn’t believe production of the egg in any way conferred motherhood. Lissa was Daisy’s mother.
But the egg was Jane’s best bargaining chip. Her only bargaining chip.
“If you refuse to accept my help,” she said, “I’ll tell the whole town the truth about Daisy’s conception.”
She saw the moment it dawned on him what she was saying. Shock, disgust...fear.
“You wouldn’t,” he snapped.
She licked her lips. A sign of weakness. To compensate, she made sure her voice came out hard, the way she’d heard her father talk. “Starting with Barb and Hal.”
“Barb would be devastated,” he said tightly. “I know you care too much for her to hurt her.”
“You wish.” Jane forced a sneer into her voice. “You’ll only have yourself to blame when I tell her Daisy has no Peters blood in her veins. It’ll be quite a blow, so soon after Lissa’s death.” She felt nauseous even saying the words.
“You’re sick,” he said.
Two weeks ago, he’d suggested they could start afresh, be friendly toward each other, if not friends. She’d been right to refuse, but now, for a nanosecond, she regretted that she’d never experienced that slate wiped clean.
Now she never would.
She forced herself to continue.
“After Barb and Hal, I’ll tell your father to enlist his help to persuade you to cooperate.”
“My father hates blackmailers. He won’t—” Kyle stopped. His eyes narrowed. “No way would you give my father the satisfaction of being proved right about another Slater. You’re bluffing.”
She flinched inwardly. “Letting Charles be right about me is a small sacrifice. He won’t want the shine taken off the Everson reputation—which is what’ll happen when all of Pinyon Ridge knows the sordid truth. That his granddaughter is a Slater.”
“You’d really sink that low?” he asked. “You’d do that to a little girl? To Lissa, your best friend?”
“You may not like my methods, but I’m doing this to help Daisy.” Jane heard the quaver in her own voice, but she didn’t think Kyle had. He was too busy wrestling with the consequences of her threat to think straight. Which was how blackmail worked. No wonder her father had found it so efficacious.
She felt sick to her stomach that she was in any way like Mike Slater. The fact that she truly had no intention of telling Charles, or Barb or anyone else the truth made no difference.
“It won’t help Daisy, having the whole town gossiping about her.”
“You might have to move,” she agreed. “Just like I did. But that’s no bad thing, I assure you.”
He let out a hiss. “You won’t do it,” he said again.
“Try me.” Luckily that came out just the way she’d hoped. Jane eyeballed Kyle, challenging him to call her bluff. Beneath the table, she clutched her knees, afraid they would knock in fear.
He eyeballed her right back, but just when she thought he might tell her to do her worst and be damned, he said, “I can’t afford to take that risk.”
Adrenaline drained out of Jane, leaving her with the backbone of a wet noodle. She sank back into her chair. It was a struggle to speak in a normal tone. “So you’ll cooperate,” she said.
“What exactly do you want?” Kyle didn’t sit, and his words were glacial, but they were a surrender, and she’d take it.
“I’ll stay on at your place. But this time, you don’t get to avoid me—and I don’t get to avoid you,” she added. “I’ll monitor your interactions with Daisy and coach you through some techniques that will communicate your feelings to her.” Talking the way she would to any client helped lift the shame of what she was doing. “Our goal—” his snort said there was no our here “—is for Daisy to know she’s loved, to feel secure.”
“Hard to feel secure when someone’s threatening to ruin your life,” he said.
She blocked out the words. “I’ll drive back to the city tomorrow to collect some more clothes and catch up with a couple of clients. I’ll be back Sunday night. We’ll start then.”
“How long will this take?” he demanded. “Not more than a week, surely.”
“I usually work with clients over a couple of months.” She smiled grimly at the horror on his face. “Since we’re in a live-in situation, we should progress faster. But there’s a lot to be done.”
“One month,” he said.
“Excuse me?”
He shoved his hands in his pockets. “You have one month to work your magic.” His tone said he didn’t believe in magic. “Four weeks. Not a second longer. During that time you won’t drop so much as a hint of what you’ve told me today, not to anyone.”
“Of course not,” she said, happy to clear away the taint of that toxic threat.
He snorted. “What, you don’t want to breach the blackmailer’s code of honor?”
She deserved that. “But you need to keep your end of the bargain. There has to be real change.”
“I’ll do whatever it takes to get rid of you,” he promised.
“Fine.” It was beyond stupid to feel hurt at that dig. “Four weeks it is.”
“At the end of that time,” he said inexorably, “you’ll leave Pinyon Ridge.”
“There’s nothing I’d like more.” She was pretty sure Kyle could make this work within a month, motivated by the prospect of getting rid of her. Daisy would be happy, knowing her dad loved her, and Jane would have fulfilled Lissa’s final wish.
She could foresee that moment as one of closure to their friendship. One of healing. Maybe Lissa did know what she was doing when she made that will, after all.
She realized Kyle was watching her closely. If she wasn’t careful, he’d figure out she was about as tough as a feather pillow. “Anything else?” she asked, before she remembered she was supposed to be calling the shots.
“After you leave,” Kyle said, “you’ll never contact my daughter again.”
Her chest constricted so tightly, she gasped for breath.
He folded his arms, implacable. “You hate this town. It’s no big deal for you to not come back.”
What he was asking—no, demanding—felt like a huge deal, no matter that she’d always said she didn’t want to come back to Pinyon Ridge. She was being banished.
But in his view, he was protecting his daughter from the woman who’d threatened to destroy what little security she had left.
“I accept that you don’t want me here,” Jane said, with difficulty. “But there’s no reason Daisy can’t visit me in Denver.”
“There’s every reason,” he growled. “It’s not like you’ve had any contact with her before. Nothing’s changed.”
Everything had changed, and he knew it. But Jane didn’t want to play the biological mother card again.
She settled for stating, “What’s changed is that Lissa’s will said she wants me around as a positive female influence on Daisy’s life.”
“Blackmail doesn’t qualify as positive. You said yourself, Lissa was worried you’d give away her secret inadvertently
. You just threatened to do it deliberately.”
Jane’s mouth dried. “Because I’m trying to help Daisy.”
Kyle’s lip curled, but he didn’t argue. “I’m giving you free rein to be a positive influence on Daisy, and me, for the next month,” he said. “I’ll do whatever you say. But then you need to go away and not come back. Without that, there’s no deal.”
“I—I’d need reports,” she said, her clogged throat a sign she was horribly close to tears. “When I’m gone. From you, or from Barb. What if you go back to your old ways the moment I leave?”
“If you’re any good at your job, I won’t want to,” he said. “Don’t you have faith in your abilities?”
“Of course I do.” It was hard-won faith; nothing about it had come naturally or easily. So, yes, she knew she could achieve the goal.
“Then we’re agreed,” he said. “After you go, you won’t contact Daisy directly again.”
“Daisy was upset enough that I was leaving tomorrow,” Jane blurted. “She wants me to stay. To completely ban any contact...”
Ugh, where had that come from? She knew how absurd she sounded—because if Daisy understood that Jane had threatened to undermine the most important truth she knew, there was no way she’d want anything to do with Jane...ever.
Kyle’s face darkened. “Don’t even think about using this time to get close to Daisy.”
“It’s about getting you close to her,” she said. “Which was my idea, remember?”
He scanned her face, unable to contest that. “Just don’t hurt my daughter.”
With that blend of determination, anger and worry in his voice, there was no doubting his love for Daisy. All he needed to do was show it.
Kyle glanced at the clock on the wall behind his desk—according to the plaque it was a gift from a sister town in Japan. “I’ll wrap up my meeting here and see you at home. The sooner we start this coaching, the sooner we’re done.”
“We’re going to your father’s house tonight,” she reminded him. “The barbecue.” Her farewell barbecue.
He cursed. “I’ll cancel.”
“We’re due there in half an hour—it’ll cause speculation if you pull out. And Daisy’s looking forward to seeing Gabe.” Not to mention, Jane didn’t think she could handle an evening of just her and Kyle after what they’d just put each other through. “It’ll be a good chance to explain to everyone that I’m staying.”
He rubbed his temples. “Fine, we’ll go. We’ll start the coaching tomorrow.”
“I’m going to Denver tomorrow,” she reminded him. “We’ll start Sunday night.” By then she’d have marshaled the thick skin she would need.
He cursed under his breath. “Sunday night,” he said reluctantly. “We work together for four weeks, and then you leave and never come back. Never contact Daisy again.”
The sheer isolation of what he was proposing whistled through her like a winter wind through a mountain pass.
Which it shouldn’t, she scolded herself. In reality, nothing would change from the way things had been the past few years.
“Agreed?” he demanded.
It was a deal with the devil, and didn’t legend suggest people always regretted those?
But if this was the only way to secure Daisy’s happiness...
Jane lifted her chin. “Agreed.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHARLES EVERSON WIPED the stainless-steel grill with a paper towel soaked in vegetable oil, held in a pair of tongs. He’d scoured the hot plate after the last time he used it, and it looked immaculate, but he wasn’t about to risk giving his guests food poisoning. Not even Jane Slater—wouldn’t want to delay her departure from Pinyon Ridge.
Mentally, he scolded himself for the uncharitable thought, unbecoming of an elder of the church.
But he’d been a cop far longer than he’d been an elder, longer even than he’d been a dad, and he had a nose for trouble.
His nose told him—and his gut, that other essential policing tool, agreed—that regardless of the fact that Jane Slater spoke with a more educated accent and according to Barb had a good job down in Denver, she was Trouble with a capital T.
He’d seen a glint in Gabe’s eye and something altogether more complicated in Kyle’s when they talked to Jane, and he didn’t like it.
But at the same time, Micki liked the woman, and Charles trusted Micki’s judgment. So maybe he shouldn’t have been so cool toward Jane whenever he’d encountered her in the café these past couple of weeks. She’d been just as cool, of course, but someone had to be the better person. Obviously, that duty fell to him.
Tonight would be an opportunity to make sure they parted on amicable, if not good, terms. He would be a gracious host.
Satisfied that a person could eat dinner directly off the grill with no ill effects, Charles closed the lid and turned up the heat. By the time his guests arrived it’d be good and hot. Gabe, the fancy cook in the family, planned to grill shrimp; Charles would do the steaks. Micki had offered to bring a salad. There was ice cream for dessert, with chocolate syrup for Daisy. Good, simple food.
The chime of the doorbell interrupted his planning. Neither of his sons would ring the bell, and over the past couple of weeks Jane Slater had taken evident satisfaction from walking into his house in Daisy’s wake without knocking. This must be Micki.
He went to open the door.
“Micki, come on in—let me take that.” As he wrested the salad bowl from her—the colorful contents looked amazing, and glistened with some kind of herbed dressing—he realized she was wearing a dress instead of her usual jeans and T-shirt.
Was she out to impress one of his sons? Charles gave her a quick once-over as he stepped aside, gesturing for her to precede him through the house. “You look very nice,” he said. “Delightful.”
He was being kind. The dress was blue with red swirls, polyester and shapeless, even though she’d put a wide belt around the waist. It was too big.
Of course, he hoped he’d raised his sons to look beyond the surface. He wondered which one of his boys she liked. Either of them would be lucky to have her, but Kyle’s need was probably greater.
She wrinkled her nose, as if she knew he didn’t really like the dress. “Are we out in the garden?”
“You bet.” Charles followed her out to the deck. “It’s been a while since you were last here.”
She grinned over her shoulder. “Yeah, you’ve redecorated.”
Not in years, but she’d probably been a teenager when she last hung out here. He and Patti had redecorated at least once since then, but the layout hadn’t changed.
They stepped out onto the deck, bathed in late-afternoon sunlight. He loved this space. Micki tilted her face to the sun with a hum of pleasure.
He set her salad down on the table. “I have some wine in the cooler.”
“I’d rather have a beer, thanks.” Micki slung her purse over the back of a chair.
“Sure.” He grabbed two bottles from the cooler, opening one before he passed it to her.
When they’d both taken a drink, silence fell.
“Am I early?” Micki asked. “Gabe told me five-thirty.”
“Unlike my sons, you’re right on time,” Charles said. “I do like punctuality.”
“I’ve noticed,” Micki said. “You turn up at the café at eight-thirty sharp every morning.”
“I guess I’m a creature of habit.” He checked the temperature gaug
e on the hood of the grill. Heating up nicely. “Nothing wrong with that, so long as the habit is a good one. And your breakfasts definitely qualify.”
She raised her bottle to him in a toast. “Here’s to one of my best customers.”
He clinked his bottle against hers, and they drank again. Charles found himself with nothing to say after that, and Micki seemed to be in the same boat. Which was odd, since they could talk for hours at the Eating Post. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, then back again. Maybe she was nervous about impressing Gabe.
“Nice evening,” Charles said, at the same time as Micki said, “I’ll miss Jane when she goes tomorrow.”
“Really?” He knew she liked Jane, but surely a Slater could be no great loss.
“She’s so observant, and she has a lot of style and confidence,” Micki said. “I could learn a lot from her about setting a direction for my life.”
“You don’t need to learn anything from a Slater,” Charles said, alarmed. He meant it as a compliment to Micki but obviously it came out more like an insult to Jane. Micki looked...disappointed in him.
Charles felt heat around the back of his neck. “I mean, you have a great business and you run it like a pro. And you’re a good girl—your parents raised you right.” Roger and Sue Barton had died ten years ago, when the light aircraft Roger was flying suffered engine failure. They were a lovely couple, good friends to him and Patti. He bet they’d love to see their daughter dating one of Charles’s sons.
“Mom taught me to cook and Dad taught me to run a business—I couldn’t be where I am today without them,” she agreed. “But it’s too easy to get into a rut in a place like Pinyon Ridge. If you don’t know what you really want from life, you could miss an opportunity for change. I would’ve liked to talk to Jane some more about that.”
“You could always talk to me,” he said.
She looked horrified. It dawned on him the “opportunity for change” she’d mentioned probably had to do with her soft spot for one of his sons.