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remembered had been like that, before the Incident.
Afterward, he'd been morose and withdrawn, especially once
her mother died.
She had no idea what kind of man he'd become. During
her marriage to Rudy, she suggested more than once that
they find her father. She wanted to reunite with him and
make him a part of her life, but Rudy strongly discouraged
the idea. Nicolette argued at first, but Rudy convinced her by
pointing out that if her father wanted her to be a part of his
life, he wouldn't have given up so easily when she stopped
contacting him. Rudy suggested that perhaps, just as her
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father was a reminder to her of the misery her family
suffered, maybe she was a reminder to him.
Nicolette eventually stopped bringing it up, but she never
stopped thinking about it. Never forgot the man who'd
bundled her up and taken her outside in the Wisconsin winter
and scooped up snow to make snow ice cream. The same
man whose face beamed with joy as he'd watched her
struggle through her first piano recital. That performance had
also been her last. Looking back, she knew it was a
performance only a parent could have loved. She'd known,
even then, how very much her father loved her.
That had been before the murder. Before he'd been
wrongly accused of killing a young girl who lived in their
neighborhood. The police eventually found the real killer and
dropped all charges against Nicolette's father, but the charges
hadn't been dropped in the hearts and minds of the
community. Nicolette—in junior high at the time—had been
tormented and ridiculed daily. Her father lost his job on some
trumped up excuse. He'd found work delivering pizzas and
barely eked out a living, but for all practical purposes, their
family died the day of her father's arrest. Her mom had done
so literally a few years later, but that was just a formality.
Nicolette knew what life was like for people suspected of
doing something horrible. Using drugs wasn't quite on the
scale with murder, but for a man in Rudy's position, it was
enough to tear down everything he'd built. Everything
Nicolette had helped him build, and she couldn't let that
happen.
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She didn't know exactly what the blackmailer would do if
she didn't pay, but whatever it was, she couldn't take the
chance. Nor could she continue to pay, not when the money
was nearly depleted. She'd have to get help. In spite of the
threats the unknown man had made, she could no longer do
this on her own.
She knew what she had to do. Before she could pick up the
phone to call Heath, it rang. She gasped, then admonished
herself for being so jumpy. She relaxed, recognizing Marla's
number on the caller ID.
"Hey, darling, how are you this morning?" Marla said.
"Lovely event last night, wasn't it?"
"Yes. I was so proud of Rudy."
"He would have been touched. Listen, are we still planning
to get together about the Christmas party this afternoon?"
"Sure. I was going to meet you around two at the
museum. Will that work?"
"That will be perfect. I'm getting nails this morning, so I
won't be free until later anyway."
Getting nails meant having a set of long, meticulously
painted, acrylic nails put on Marla's slim, elegant fingers.
Nicolette held up her hand and looked at her own neglected,
stubby-nailed fingers and cringed. Maybe before the party,
she should get nails herself.
"Okay. I'll see you at around two."
In spite of her grief and fear, Nicolette was excited about
the party. Nothing could compare to the joy she felt as she
looked into the elated faces of the little children, some whose
lives had no doubt been filled with untold despair. Even the
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teenagers couldn't hide their excitement, no matter how cool
they tried to act. All of them had been through the same kind
of hell. Not knowing if Mom or Dad would keep their job, their
home. Not knowing where their next meal would come from.
And, probably worst of all, the hell they faced in school. She,
of all people, knew what it was like to be bullied and ridiculed
by classmates. But, at least the home life was more private,
not as many witnesses to the humiliation and despair of their
existence.
Refilling her coffee cup, she glanced once more at the
microwave clock. Eight a.m. Heath should be up by now. She
couldn't wait any longer, even if it meant disturbing the entire
household. If she didn't tell someone soon, she'd go nuts.
Lifting the receiver, she dialed Amelia King's house.
The phone in the next room rang. Heath's mother
answered. Her voice lifted with excitement as she said, "Oh,
my goodness, dear. So wonderful to hear from you. Yes. Yes,
he's right here. Hold on." A brief pause, then, "Heath! Phone,
for you."
"For me?" he called as he left the kitchen.
He found his mother at the foot of the stairs holding the
cordless phone out to him. Before he could take it from her,
she whispered loud enough for the person on the phone to
hear, "It's Nicolette!"
Blood rushed to his head, and Heath paused a moment. He
tried to tamp down the pounding of his heart as he brought
the phone to his ear. "Hello. Nicolette?"
"Heath, hi. I'm so sorry to bother you. Is this a bad time?"
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"No, not at all. Glad you called," he said, uttering the
world's biggest understatement. "What's up?"
A long silence, then in a voice so soft he had to strain to
make out the words, she said, "You know last night when you
said you knew there was something wrong with me?"
"Yes."
"You were right, Heath. There's something terribly wrong."
A ball of worry tightened in his throat. "What is it? Are you
okay?"
"I am. Right now, that is. But, I don't know... I'm not sure
what's going to happen and..." She took a deep breath.
"Heath, I need you."
God, how he'd wanted to hear her say that, although she
most likely didn't mean it sexually. It was a nice fantasy, but
this was something serious. Something was wrong with
Nicolette.
"Sure, what is it?"
"I'm in trouble. I need your help."
Right. I got that part. "With what, Nicolette?"
Heath looked at his mother. She'd been staring at him
curiously, but turned away as if she hadn't.
"I can't tell you over the phone," Nic said. "Can you come
here? To my house? I'm not sure if I should even..." Another
deep breath. "Never mind. I'm sorry. Just forget I called."
"The hell I will!" His voice was harsher than he intended,
; and he caught his mother's disapproving frown before he
turned his back to her and said more quietly, "If you're in
trouble, I want to help."
"Are you sure?"
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"Of course. What are friends for?"
Her voice now held a wealth of relief. "Thank you, Heath.
Thank you so much."
"Be there in half an hour." He hung up the phone, the
happiness welling in his chest inappropriate considering a
friend was in trouble.
"What is it, Heath?" Amelia asked.
"Nothing I can talk about right now, Mom."
The doorbell rang, saving him from further explanation.
Amelia's face lit up, the phone call forgotten. "That must
be Zoe and the girls!" She scrambled for her crutches.
"I'll get it," Heath offered. "By the time you trudge over
there, they'll be in high school."
"Oh, you. Watch your tongue, young man."
Heath grinned and made himself walk to the door at a
normal pace. As much as he wanted to meet his nieces,
instinct demanded he speed to Nicolette's and rescue his
damsel. For that, he'd need a white horse, right? He
wondered what color Clint's horse was. Probably not white.
He'd have to settle for a burgundy Tahoe as his trusty steed.
When he opened the door, three little figures rushed past
him so fast, he barely caught a blur of dark hair and fuzzy,
blue hooded coats. He bit down a curse as a tiny shoulder
came frighteningly close to his groin.
Looking up, he found an attractive woman—nah, attractive
wasn't the right word, she was a knockout—standing at the
door. A woman who, although his brain knew it to be true, his
eyes told him it couldn't be Zoe Hillman. Zoe had weighed
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more than twice what this woman standing before him did. In
spite of her weight, though, Zoe had always been pretty.
"Heath?"
He realized then that he was staring like a dumbstruck
moron. "Yes. Sorry, Zoe. Come in."
He reached out to give her a peck on the cheek as she
entered. Deftly, she corralled the three miniature cyclones
who were now swirling around their grandmother. "Girls,
come meet your Uncle Heath."
They stilled, and he wondered how long the lull would last.
"Hello," he said, not knowing whether to offer his hand to
shake or to hug them. He wasn't used to kids, and he didn't
want to scare them off, although he had a feeling not much
could scare these little rascals. Mischief glinted in the three
pairs of blue eyes that looked up at him.
"This is Macy, this is Michaela, and this is Mia." Zoe
touched each of the tiny, dark heads as she introduced them.
Heath peered down at the three little replicas of his baby
brother and felt a sudden rush of warmth, an invisible bond
and a fierce compulsion to protect. Before he could get all
misty, he said, "Well, they're Kings all right." Then, realizing
how that sounded, he turned to Zoe. "Oh, sorry. I didn't
mean that like it came out."
She smiled, her eyes sparking with humor. "Not a
problem. I know what you meant."
"They're beautiful."
"Thank you. They're a handful."
Heath shook his head. "I can't even imagine taking care of
one, let alone three. You deserve some kind of medal."
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She laughed. "I'm sure just being their mother is reward
enough, although I'll admit there are times I question that
theory."
One of the girls, Michaela, if he remembered right, said,
"You're our uncle?" with the doubt of a prosecutor questioning
a defense witness.
"I am," Heath said, squatting in front of them.
"He's my little boy," Amelia said.
Macy scowled. "But he's not even little."
"Not anymore," his mother said, her voice sounding
younger than he'd heard it in years. "But he used to be as
little as you. Even littler."
"Was he in your stomach like we was in our mom's?" Macy
asked.
Amelia guffawed. "Yes. I suppose he was."
Zoe's face turned pink. "Come on, girls, let's go into the
kitchen."
"Yes, let's," Amelia said. "Gramma made breakfast. You
like pancakes?"
A cacophony of squeals rose, and Heath just had time to
ruffle their soft hair before they ran into the kitchen.
His heart felt light as he headed to his truck. This trip was
starting to improve. He'd met his adorable nieces and was
already half in love with them, and he would soon see
Nicolette. Never mind that she was in some kind of trouble.
Last night, he'd gone to bed thinking those few moments with
her at the ceremony were all he'd have. Now, he would steal
at least a few precious more.
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During Nicolette's third stint of peering out the window,
her efforts were rewarded. Heath finally pulled into the drive.
She watched him climb out of the car, watched the wind toss
his dark hair into a sexy mess. But when he squinted toward
the house, she let the blinds drop.
Her heart raced when the bell rang, and her hands shook
as she swung the door open.
Beneath his wind-tousled hair Heath's golden eyes
searched her face. "Hey, are you all right?" He spoke before
she had a chance to.
"Come in. Please." She stepped back, catching a whiff of
some kind of woodsy, masculine aftershave as he brushed
past her. "I'm glad you came."
"You sounded like you needed me."
She led him to the living room and took his coat, a brown
suede, still warm from his body heat. He wore jeans and a
white knit pullover. Although his reasons for being there were
not the most pleasant, it felt good to have him in her home.
Odd, but good. Like, sexy good, and she wanted to lean into
his warmth, his strength.
To keep from doing just that, she dropped her gaze and
made herself busy with hanging his jacket on the coat rack.
"Have a seat. Coffee?" she offered.
"No, thanks. I'm good."
"I'll just go get mine, then. Be right back."
When she returned, Heath stood next to the fireplace,
looking at a photo of Donovan, Marla, herself, and Rudy at
one of the many benefits the four of them had attended
together.
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"This is that couple I met last night?"
"Yes. Donovan works at the charity. Marla is an up and
coming politician. She's on the city council and plans to run
for mayor in the next election."
"Impressive. So, the four of you were pretty close? I never
really heard you or Rudy mention them."
She took a sip from the large red coffee mug. "We've
grown closer in the past couple of years. They've been great
<
br /> since Rudy died."
Heath moved over to stand in front of her, staring down
into her face.
"So, why don't you tell me what's got you so upset?"
He was so close she could see the stress lines around his
eyes. What had put them there? Maybe she shouldn't burden
him with her problems. Not when he might have plenty of his
own.
So that she'd have time to think—and doing that with him
so near was proving to be impossible—she stepped back and
headed toward the couch. Stopping beside it, she took
another swallow of the coffee, its warmth and strong flavor
helping settle her nerves.
"Why don't we sit?" she suggested.
Heath settled onto one end of the sofa and Nicolette
perched on the chair caddy-cornered to it.
"You want to tell me what's going on?" His eyes narrowed
as they once more searched hers.
That was the third time he'd asked without her revealing
anything and she wondered how many more chances she
had. Would he finally grow impatient, say to hell with her and
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leave? Maybe that would be the best thing, but it wasn't what
she wanted.
Taking a deep breath, she opened her mouth to speak,
then looked away, shaking her head. "I don't know if I can..."
Heath scooted to the edge of the couch and placed a hand
on her knee, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Don't worry.
Whatever it is, you can trust me."
"I know I can."
"You said you needed my help."
"I just don't know. I shouldn't drag you into this." She
stared down at his hand on her knee. Having it there felt
right, although a little unsettling. Tiny surges of electricity
moved over her skin, even though her jeans barred him from
actually touching her flesh. Suddenly, all she could
concentrate on was the odd wonder of having Heath here.
This intimate setting. The desire racing through her. She
sighed and shook her head, tried to push those thoughts
away. "I shouldn't drag anyone into this."
Hooking a knuckle under her chin, Heath lifted her face
until she looked at him. "If you're in trouble, if you need help,
you should tell me. You know I'll do whatever I can."
She stared into his eyes, once more losing her breath.
Pulling away, she stood and paced, pausing to take sips of
coffee as she did. Heath rose, but stayed beside the couch