by Dawn Temple
Nelda stood, revealing a trendy pair of pink Crocs. “Chester said to show you right in, so follow me.”
Nelda ushered her into Chester’s large, masculine office. Once they’d dealt with the social niceties—everyone was in good health, the weather was wonderful and no one cared for coffee—Shayna got straight to the point.
“Chester, are you aware that James Miller wasn’t my natural father?”
“Yes dear, I am.” Her surprise must have registered, because he quickly elaborated. “Your Papa Joe and I used to play cards together. When James showed up with you in tow, I asked Joe how come he’d never mentioned becoming a grandfather. He told me then about James adopting you in Boston.”
She wanted to let the explanation go at that but knew Chester’s advice wouldn’t be worth much if he didn’t have all the facts.
“Actually, Daddy never officially adopted me. The courts granted him temporary custody just before Papa Joe got sick, and Daddy and I just never went back.”
“Are you worried about the validity of your inheritance, after all these years? Legal paperwork wouldn’t have changed y’alls relationship, dear. You were the light of James’s life.”
“I know that, but—” she filled him in on all the repeated calls to Boston CPS, her missing case files and the forged birth certificate.
“You and I both know that parents often abandon their children without releasing parental rights and those kids are never officially adopted. After all these years, and with no victim to atone to, I can’t imagine any judge in this country would be willing to hear a case against your daddy for forgery or fraud. Now, tell me what’s really got you this riled up.”
Not knowing exactly where to begin, she handed Chester a copy of the dreaded agreement. He adjusted his readers, turned on his desk lamp and started reading. By now, Shayna had read the darn thing so many times she practically had it memorized.
On page four, Chester “uh-huhed,” and Shayna charged to her feet, unable to sit still as doubts about her decision raced full tilt around her head. Finally, he finished the last page and looked up.
“Those Hollywood types sure do come up with some wild notions, don’t they.” Chester’s total lack of concern allowed Shayna to release the last of her doubts. Everything was going to work out. Not necessarily smooth and easy, but she didn’t mind a few bumps in the road.
“Yes, sir. They sure do, but I’ve got a few wild notions of my own now.”
“I figured you would. Let’s hear ’em.”
“What’s legalese for thanks, but no thanks?”
Travis and Lindy had urged forgiveness. Kyle had made a case for closure and moving on. She’d been fighting to keep her present safe from the past. Daddy had always insisted she follow the right path, no matter how bumpy the road. All the arguments had merit. They all had faults.
In the end, she’d found her solution somewhere in the middle.
Friday morning, Kyle pushed back his leather chair and paced his professionally decorated office, unable to concentrate on the case he’d been reviewing. He wedged a finger inside the neck of his perfectly tailored shirt, struggling against the urge to rip off his tie and unbutton his collar. The world and the clothes that had fit him so well just a week ago no longer felt comfortable.
As they’d done constantly since his return, his thoughts returned to Land’s Cross and Shayna. He couldn’t believe he’d left her without a word, but the words he’d been tempted to say were too dangerous. Too much stood between them to pretend they had a future. Even saying he’d call would have been wrong, because if he did, the conversation could only revolve around the case.
He expected her father, his biggest client, any minute now. Roscoe had been grudgingly patient with the delay in this case, but Kyle predicted Walker wouldn’t be so understanding. His client’s deadline was quickly approaching, and like any powerful man, Walker hadn’t gotten where he was by adhering to other people’s timetables.
A racket in the hall preceeded Amanda’s rushed entry, Roscoe and Walker hot on her heels. “Mr. Thomas and Dr. Walker are here to see you, Mr. Anderson.”
As Kyle pushed aside his personal concerns, the two men nearly bowled his secretary over in their rush to enter his office. Amanda, ever the professional, kept her expression serene and offered everyone coffee or water. They all refused.
She crossed to his desk and handed him an unlabeled folder. “This just came in for you, Mr. Anderson.”
“Thank you, Amanda.” Kyle made sure she understood he meant for far more than delivering a fax. She nodded her understanding, sent a meaningful glance at the papers she’d just delivered and then left.
Curious, Kyle took a quick peek and had to school his features not to reveal his surprise. It was a fax from Chester Warfield. He quickly scanned the short cover letter. Damn it. Shayna had turned down Walker’s offer. No counteroffer, no compromise, just a flat no.
Disappointment and confusion warred for dominance within him, but he tamped them both down. He needed to thoroughly review this paperwork before discussing it with his client, the very client that even now was staring daggers into Kyle’s chest.
Since said client obviously wasn’t in a patient mood, Kyle decided to shelve this matter until their next meeting. Putting on his game face, he tucked the papers back inside the folder and turned to welcome the two men.
The resemblance between Shayna and her biological father was eerie, especially the eyes. Walker’s were the same rich color and almond shape as Shayna’s; yet at first glance, they seemed lifeless, heartless. Then Walker blinked, and when his eyes reopened, they appeared warm, friendly. It made the resemblance even more striking.
“So, Anderson, how much longer until you have this little problem wrapped up?”
Hearing Shayna referred to as a “little problem” lit Kyle’s temper. Taking a deep breath, he moved back into the power position behind his desk and reminded himself that this man’s case was the key to his dreams. Soon, he would no longer be forced to work for scumbags like Dr. Steven Walker.
If he could talk some sense into Shayna before Walker got wind of what she’d done.
He dropped the folder onto his desk and waved Walker and Roscoe into the chairs facing him. “Gentlemen, have a seat.” He waited until they had complied before continuing. “As I told you yesterday, Ms. Miller has an appointment with her attorney this afternoon.” Or at least that was the last he’d heard. Obviously, he was working off old information. “We can’t move forward until we hear from them.”
“I don’t like the fact that you wimped out and gave that silly girl time to contact an attorney. Now this is going to cost me more time and more money.”
“The time was necessary, and in the long run it will save you time, money and trouble.” Kyle weighed his words carefully. He wouldn’t lie to his client. That was a rule he couldn’t break, not even for Shayna. “If I had coerced her into an agreement without giving her time to seek counsel, she might have sued you later, dragging this whole matter through the press. Isn’t avoiding bad press the crux of the job you’ve hired me to do?”
The words came out smooth, but Kyle’s boss, who seemed to recognize the signs of a fraying temper, stepped in, trying to further defuse the situation. “Steven, we’ve already discussed this. You don’t want to come across as some hard-hearted bastard who frightened a young, naive girl into doing something she later regretted. By allowing her time to meet with her attorney, she won’t be able to insinuate later that you forced her hand.”
“No matter. I’ve discovered a way to turn this delay to my advantage.” Walker reached into the breast pocket of his suit coat and pulled out a sheet of folded paper. “Got an interesting e-mail earlier this morning, with a link to the Land’s Cross Gazette.”
The instant Kyle heard the paper’s name, panic tried to take hold, but reason quickly won out. If the man had seen the picture of Kyle dressed as Santa—with Shayna snuggled in his lap—this conversation would not even
be taking place. He’d have been fired days ago.
Walker handed the press release to Roscoe. “Seems my long-lost daughter has inherited my interest in giving back. My publicist thinks it would be a great idea if I make a surprise appearance at that little festival of hers, pledge a donation and bond over our mutual love of helping the less fortunate. It would make dynamite footage for the debut show.”
Thomas tossed the paper onto Kyle’s desk, the gleam in his eyes just as devious as Walker’s. Kyle didn’t even glance at the page. Tension bunched up painfully in Kyle’s shoulders. Surely Thomas would recognize this idea for the train wreck it was.
“I don’t know much about television, but it sounds pretty compelling,” Thomas answered, doing a damn fine impersonation of a brownnosing yes man.
“Are you out of your mind?” Kyle emphasized his disbelief by banging his fist on the printout lying on his desk. “You can’t blindside her like that. You promised her a reasonable period to review the documents with her lawyer, and if you force the issue prematurely, she’s likely to balk and refuse to cooperate.” Which, technically, she was already trying to do, but since he’d hadn’t completely reviewed the document and wasn’t ready to discuss it with anyone, he justified keeping his comments hypothetical.
“I didn’t promise that little bitch anything, Anderson. She probably batted her eyes at you and drawled that sweet southern accent and you couldn’t give in fast enough. I’m just lucky you didn’t change the terms of the agreement without my approval.”
That was taking things too far. Hinting that Kyle had been swayed by Shayna was one thing—hell, it was exactly what had happened. But insinuating that he’d obliterate all ethical standards? That was more than Kyle was willing to take from this arrogant blowhard.
Later that evening as he rushed through the nearly empty Knoxville airport terminal, Kyle finally faced facts. He was in big trouble here. This morning, during his meeting with Walker, he’d skated the ethical lines, his actions and responses balanced precariously on the edge of right versus wrong.
Nothing he’d done or said could be considered, on its own merit, to be a breach of attorney-client privilege. He hadn’t given anything other than sound, legal reasons why sending a production crew to film Shayna at the Noel Festival Parade wasn’t a smart move. She was guaranteed to freak out, and would, more than likely, halt any and all negotiations, especially if, as Kyle suspected, Patty Hoyt turned out to be Walker’s source for Land’s Cross social news.
His carefully worded arguments and suggestions hadn’t impacted Walker’s decision to send a crew. Worse yet, the man was still considering making a cameo appearance. Kyle had done his best to convince his client that his presence would stir up too many questions. Thomas has seconded Kyle’s argument, but he wasn’t sure Walker had chosen to listen.
Apparently, no one was taking his advice these days.
What the devil was Shayna thinking? Walker would not react well to her refusal to cooperate. In the back of his mind, he’d expected Shayna’s attorney to urge her to ask for more money, maybe pass on the live television program. But declining the entire offer? That just didn’t make any sense. Walker was going to persecute her for this.
Unless he could get to her first and make her see reason.
He skidded to a stop in front of the long row of darkened car rental counters. Damn. He’d forgotten to prearrange a vehicle, which meant he’d have to hope there was a cabbie still on duty somewhere in the area willing to drive him out to Land’s Cross. Since he’d taken the red-eye out of LAX, it was barely two a.m. here in Tennessee.
Fate must have been working on his side, because when he hit the passenger pickup area he found one cab, its driver sound asleep behind the wheel. After a stiff negotiation—and some serious pleading—he had a ride to Land’s Cross.
Kyle spent that dark, quiet hour trying to come up with an excuse for his silent exit Tuesday morning. Any sane man knew better than to walk away from a well-loved woman without a word, especially if you ever wanted her to speak to you again.
Kyle desperately wanted much more than just conversation from Shayna. He flat out wanted her. Which was why he was jacking with his career and jeopardizing his future.
While flying out to Tennessee without his client’s approval wasn’t enough to get him disbarred, his actions once he got to town very easily could be. It all came down to Walker. If his client pursued actions designed to harm Shayna, Kyle wouldn’t be able to stand silently by. And stepping in would be akin to stepping down. The next twelve hours would either make or break his career. So why the hell was he more concerned with Shayna’s reaction to his unsanctioned return to Land’s Cross than Walker’s?
Chapter Fourteen
The setting was soft-focused and beautiful—a gently flowing creek provided the background music and wildflowers carpeted the large open field. Kyle, wearing nothing but her best bathroom towel, laid her out on the bed of sweetly scented flowers. Love shone from his crystal-blue eyes. He smiled at her, that adorable dimple creasing his left cheek.
“Shayna, I have something very important to tell you,” he whispered, that deep voice she loved vibrating within her own heart.
Sure he meant to offer the proposal of her dreams, she was all trembling inside. “Yes!” sat on the tip of her tongue, just waiting to be unleashed.
Then Brinks woke her when he sat up, howled for all he was worth and took off downstairs. She slowly opened her eyes, staring up into the darkness. Darn dog. Couldn’t he have waited another two minutes?
She started to throw off the covers, but the ringing of the phone stilled her movements. Middle-of-the-night calls were rarely good. She’d left the phone by her bed, hoping Kyle would return the message she’d eventually had no choice but to leave. But would he really call this late? Or had there been an emergency elsewhere?
Deep woofs continued to echo up the stairs. “Hang on,” she called to Brinks as she rolled over and snagged the phone. “Hello?”
“Shayna?”
The connection was a bit staticky but there was no mistaking that warm, deep voice she loved so much. “Kyle? What time is it?”
“Too early. I’m sorry, but I was afraid you’d be scared.”
Her eyes flicked to the bedside clock—3:27 a.m. “Why?”
“The barking.”
The barking? She pushed herself up awkwardly with her elbows and tried to shake the sleep from her brain. “How did you know about that?”
“Brinks is barking at me.”
That woke her up. “Where are you?”
“Your front porch.”
With a complete lack of self-control that would have embarrassed her had she been fully awake, Shayna slammed the phone shut and jumped out of bed, propelling herself downstairs at breakneck speed. There was no light, but she made her way to the door by habit and yanked it open.
Seeing him on the porch, that familiar black wool coat flapping, snapped some sense back into her. What was she thinking, rushing down here like some heartsick ninny? This man, who’d made fabulous, wonderful, awesome love to her then silently slipped out of her bed, hadn’t so much as said boo to her for four days. She couldn’t just roll over like Brinks and show him her belly.
At least not until she gave him a moment to apologize.
She backpedaled into the den. “Come in,” she directed, grabbing an afghan off the sofa and tossing it around her shoulders.
She turned and found him squatting, petting Brinks, who, as predicted, lay there, paws up, belly exposed. Way to stay strong, dog, she thought as she flipped on the lamp. “Kyle?”
He looked up, and the longing in his eyes—like a shipwrecked man who’d just spotted a rescue boat on the horizon—nearly knocked her on her rump. He stood and took several slow steps in her direction, a multitude of thoughts flashing across his expression, none sticking long enough for her to get a handle on. “I shouldn’t be here, but I couldn’t stay away.”
The combination of an
guish and sincerity in his voice did her in. Her heart flopped over and gave itself completely, irrevocably, to him.
He came to her and ran the backs of his fingers down her cheek. “I have something very important to tell you, and it couldn’t wait until daylight.”
The words were so like her dream, Shayna feared she’d pass out from anticipation. “Yes?”
“Monday was the most incredible day of my life, Shayna, starting from the moment you opened the door at the KC Hall until the second I slipped out of your bed. Every hour was perfection, and I’m a complete ass for not telling you sooner.”
“You came all this way to tell me that?”
“No. There’s more. But that’s the most important part, and I needed to make sure you understood that before we tackled anything else.”
At this moment there was only one thing Shayna wanted to tackle. Him. She rolled onto the balls of her feet. Giddy lust tickled her toes and raced up through her body.
She really needed to work on camouflaging her expressions, because Kyle seemed to instantly understand her intentions.
“Hang on. That’s not what I came here for.” His gaze darted to her blanket-covered breasts, giving him away.
“Liar.” She laughed, chasing him as he tried to flee. His back hit the door, and this time she had him pinned. Nice.
“Okay, I’d hoped—prayed—we’d eventually end up here but not immediately. Things have changed since Monday. We really need to talk.”
“I’m too tired to talk. Let’s wait till morning.”
“It is morning.”
“You’re just a regular Big Ben, aren’t ya?” She slipped her right hand out from the blanket draped over her shoulders and started toying loose the big buttons on his jacket. She felt rather than heard his sharp intake of breath.
Embracing the full power of her feminine strength, she dropped the afghan, knowing how little her nightgown concealed. His eyes closed. His Adam’s apple jumped. She pushed open his overcoat and stepped up, pressing her body against the length of his. Under the thin fabric of her gown, the hard ridge of his arousal pulsed.