Читать книгу One in a Billion - Beth Kery - Страница 9

The next morning Deidre called Colleen, in much need of some sisterly commiseration and support. They met up at Jake’s Place, a popular Harbor Town hangout, for brunch. Colleen’s fork halted in midair when Deidre told her all the bizarre, gory details from her meeting with Nick the previous night.

“Lincoln left you half of his estate and fifty percent controlling interest in his company?” Colleen asked, clearly flabbergasted.

Deidre nodded and sipped her coffee.

“But he was one of the wealthiest men in the country. That means … you’re bloody rich, Deidre.”

Deidre chuckled at her sister’s bald statement. “Not if Nick Malone has his say in the matter. He told me he plans to contest the will if he decides I coerced Lincoln in any way.”

“Coerced,” Colleen said, looking insulted. “You mean he suspects you took advantage of Lincoln? What’s he think? That you drugged him and stuck a pen in his hand, telling him to sign a new will? That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. You’re a skilled nurse and a compassionate woman. I’ve never seen someone so dedicated and concerned about another human being as you were that sweet, fragile man. Doesn’t Nick even know you?”

Deidre smiled, heartened by her sister’s show of faith in her. She would have been lost if it weren’t for Colleen being at her side after Lincoln had died. She was the perfect confidant, since she’d witnessed firsthand Nick’s suspicion of her.

“According to Nick, he doesn’t. That’s the whole problem,” Deidre sighed, setting a forkful of pancakes down on her plate. It was hard to eat when her life felt like an out-of-control carnival ride.

“And Nick said he’s here to investigate you?” Colleen asked as she resumed eating.

“Not exactly, no,” Deidre admitted. “He said he needs an opportunity to observe me, determine my character. But it all amounts to the same thing, doesn’t it? He’s already convinced I’m a gold digger, so I’m sure he’ll see whatever he expects to see.”

She noticed Colleen’s pensive expression as she ate her omelet. “What?”

“Why did Lincoln do it?” Colleen wondered. “Why would he split his estate and the control of his company equally between you and Nick?”

“I have no idea. Especially when I specifically told him I didn’t want or expect anything from him. I have a hard enough time balancing my checkbook. How in the world could I possibly make decisions about a multibillion-dollar conglomerate?” Her gaze sharpened on her sister. “Do you think he did it because he wasn’t in his right mind?” she asked in a hushed, worried tone. If that were the case, it was possible Lincoln’s faith that she was his daughter was part of a demented delirium, as well.

“We both know Lincoln’s level of consciousness fluctuated because of the tumor. He was sharp as a tack at times, but in others he was really out of it. It’s my understanding that for the will to be binding, his attorney and other witnesses would have to attest he was in his right mind when he signed the document. But that’s not what I was wondering about just now. You don’t suppose there’s any possibility that Lincoln arranged things this way so that you and Nick were forced to spend time with one another, do you?” Colleen asked tentatively.

“Why would he do that?”

Colleen’s shrug was a little too nonchalant for Deidre’s liking. “Maybe he noticed the sparks between you two and was doing a little matchmaking with his will.”

Deidre rolled her eyes. “Those sparks are purely from dislike on my part and outright suspicion on Nick’s. He suspects I manipulated a vulnerable, sick man into leaving me billions of dollars. How can you think he would be remotely interested in me in the romantic sense?” Deidre asked, her cheeks heating.

Was the fact that she found Nick attractive really so evident for everyone to see? Colleen’s comment had called to mind Nick’s reference to the letter Lincoln had left him. She hadn’t told Colleen about that letter yet. For some reason, Lincoln making the request of Nick to get to know her better struck her as highly significant … highly intimate.

“So you’re definitely not attracted to Nick Malone?” Colleen asked, her eyelids narrowed as she studied her.

“It’s sort of hard to be attracted to someone when they’re looking at you like you’re a slimy criminal,” she sidestepped.

“Yeah, I see what you mean. Well one thing is pretty straightforward. Nick Malone is gorgeous. He’s at the top of every most eligible bachelor’s list.” She gave Deidre an I’m just stating the truth glance when Deidre looked at her incredulously. “You don’t believe me? I looked Nick up online while we were staying at The Pines.”

“Colleen,” Deidre chastised, grinning. She’d frequently teased her sister while they were in Tahoe that she should surgically get her hand grafted to her iPad for convenience sake. Living in the Middle East and Europe for as long as she did, Deidre didn’t share her fellow Americans’ reliance on personal modern technology.

“Check this out,” Colleen said, reaching inside her bag and withdrawing her iPad. A few seconds later she handed the tablet across the table. Deidre took it with a mixture of doubt, amusement and curiosity.

An image of Nick was on the screen. He was leading a sophisticated brunette with legs that went clear to her armpits out of the back of a black sedan. The woman wore an elaborate hat that probably had cost the equivalent of Deidre’s annual salary as a nurse. Beneath the photo, Deidre read the inscription, Churchill Downs—Nick Malone, chief executive officer of DuBois Enterprises, and Danielle Geddy, of the Geddy Banking Trust, attend the Derby Festival Preview Party. The woman’s smile was like headlight beams. Nick looked somber, as usual, and perhaps a tad irritated as he pinned the photographer with his icy stare.

“There’s more,” Colleen said wryly from across the table.

Deidre swiped her finger along the screen, her curiosity growing despite herself. Here was another photo, this one in profile, of Nick at a charity function, this time with an attractive blonde on his arm. Another showed him behind a podium wearing a suit and addressing a crowd. The caption said the occasion had been his acceptance of an honorary doctorate in business from a prestigious East Coast university. Nick didn’t appear surly in this photo, as he had in the first. He did look somber, intent … and drop-dead gorgeous.

“He looks especially good in that one,” Colleen observed, reading Deidre’s mind.

Deidre laughed. “What’s your point, Colleen?”

“I’m just saying that most of the world sees Nick Malone in a completely different light than you do.”

“Given the strange circumstances, that’s not too surprising, is it?”

“No, I understand that. I’m just pointing out that Nick is considered by most to be a brilliant businessman, not to mention a heck of a catch. And …”

“And what?” Deidre asked warily when she noticed her sister’s significant glance.

“It occurred to me on one or a dozen occasions while we were at The Pines that there was an attraction between the two of you. I used to notice Nick watching you quite a bit, Dee,” Colleen said, grinning. “You light a fire in him. He’s got an itch for you.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” Deidre exclaimed, stabbing her fork into her sausage patty with undue force.

“Am I?”

“If you’ve noticed any sparks of that variety coming from him, I’m willing to bet the reason isn’t unquenchable lust.”

“What do you mean?” Colleen wondered.

Deidre shrugged, not wanting to give the impression she actually had thought about the topic overly much. Even though she had.

“I think he’s testing me by acting interested every once in a while. He already thinks I’m a conniving, immoral female. Maybe he thinks if he can seduce me, he’ll get me to show my true colors. He’ll prove to himself that I’m a gold digger by using himself as bait.”

Colleen set her coffee mug down heavily on the table. “Do you really think so? Nick has struck me as cool and unapproachable at times—intimidating, even—but do you really believe he could be that manipulative?”

“He certainly suspects I’m that manipulative, so I don’t feel very guilty for thinking the same of him,” Deidre said.

She turned pensive as she stared out the window on to Main Street, which had been festively decorated for the holidays. Christmas in Harbor Town, she thought with wistful sadness. How lovely it would be to be like Colleen, to feel that she truly belonged here … that she wasn’t an outsider looking in. She’d belonged there once, as a child.

That was the past, though. She felt like even more of an imposter at the idea of being Lincoln’s heiress in the present.

“I don’t know what to think, Colleen,” she admitted after a pause, meeting Colleen’s gaze. “The only thing I know for certain is that Lincoln made me a player in a game with stakes so high, I can’t even comprehend them. I’m a fish out of water. And truthfully? I don’t know what a man like Nick would do to ensure he maintains control of a company that possesses the revenues of some small countries’ entire economies. Do you?”

Colleen’s face settled into a solemn expression, and Deidre had her answer.

Deidre promised her sister she’d rest and take it easy that afternoon. Colleen had been expressing concern for her lack of appetite and difficulty sleeping since Lincoln had died. Her life had been a blur since Lincoln’s death last week and her hurried trip to Harbor Town for Liam’s wedding.

She returned to Cedar Cottage and took a long, hot shower. The premises of the vacation rental were roomy, but not too large to take away from the cozy ambience. Since it was the off-season in the quaint beachside community, she’d gotten a week-to-week lease for a steal.

She dressed for a lazy day in a pair of yoga pants and a T-shirt. Afterward, she curled in front of the gas fireplace with a book in her lap, losing herself in the story.

A car door slammed in the distance. Deidre looked up, holding her breath. She heard the stomp of boots on the front steps, then a brisk knock at her door. The book she’d been reading slid heedlessly onto the couch cushion.

Somehow, she just knew it was Nick.

She hesitated for only a second before standing decisively.

“Hello. How are you?” he asked quietly, his gaze running over her face when she opened the door. He wore a pair of well-worn jeans and a hip-length black insulated jacket. He hadn’t shaved today. Dark whiskers shadowed his jaw.

“Fine,” Deidre replied warily.

He nodded, and she found herself shifting on her feet in the awkward silence that followed. Realizing she couldn’t stand there forever with the door wide open, she reluctantly waved her hand into the kitchen. Nick entered. She shut the door and faced him.

“I drove around Harbor Town a little. It’s nice. You must have loved coming here as a kid.”

She attempted a smile. “Winter isn’t the best time to be here. Harbor Town is a beach town, pure and simple.”

He nodded. “It’s still charming, decked out for the holidays like it is. I remember once when we were both with Linc you told him Christmas was your favorite holiday.”

She blinked in surprise. She didn’t remember ever having said such a thing in his presence. It made her feel exposed that he’d recalled the trivial detail.

“It was a favorite holiday when I was a child,” she admitted. Longing ripped through her unexpectedly when she thought of Christmases when she was a kid—back in the days when she never doubted she was a true Kavanaugh. It was stupid, of course. She could return to her mother’s house anytime—this very second if she chose. Her refusal to go there was a self-imposed sanction.

She looked up reluctantly when he placed a gloved finger beneath her chin and lifted it. She couldn’t avoid his eyes now.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

She merely nodded, her throat convulsing uncomfortably when she swallowed.

His gaze moved over her face. “Why don’t we go into the living room? It might be a little warmer?” he suggested, nodding toward the interior of the cottage.

“All right,” she conceded.

She studied him while he removed his gloves and coat and draped his coat on the back of a kitchen chair. When he wasn’t dressed in a suit, he favored jeans and shirts that weren’t the classic cowboy variety, perhaps, but still possessed a Western flavor. They usually had snaps instead of buttons and fitted his lean, muscular torso to perfection.

When he glanced at her, she just raised her eyebrows in polite expectation, hoping he hadn’t noticed the way she’d been detailing his form. She led him into the living room. The sitting area before the flickering fire looked much more cozy and intimate than it had when she’d been there alone.

“Did Lincoln ever speak to you about whether or not you were interested in running DuBois Enterprises?” he asked after he’d stood before the fire for a moment.

“Yes.”

He turned and speared her with his stare. “He did? When?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. A month or so before he passed? He asked me if I’d ever consider taking up business. Then he asked me if I’d like to run his company. I thought he was kidding.”

“And what did you say?” Nick asked intently.

“I told him ‘no way.’ I have no interest in working in an office. Medicine is my career. I love being a nurse. Did Lincoln really ask you to get to know me better in that letter?” she blurted out, unable to contain her curiosity anymore. She’d been obsessing about Lincoln’s reasoning and state of mind all day.

“Yes. Why would I lie about something like that?”

She gave him a small, cautious grin. “Your reasoning escapes me, as usual.”

He laughed and turned toward her, one hand on the mantel. His silvery-gray eyes looked a little softer than usual. “My reasons are hardly Machiavellian.”

“I just can’t comprehend why he’d ask you to do it.”

“Maybe he trusted me. Maybe you should, too.”

She looked up into his face. He hadn’t moved, but he somehow seemed closer. “Why should I trust you when you clearly don’t trust me?”

“I haven’t decided yet whether I trust you or not,” he said.

A thought occurred to her. “Wait … don’t tell me that Lincoln actually asked you to investigate me in this infamous letter.”

“I’m not investigating you, Deidre. Don’t be so melodramatic,” he mumbled, exasperated.

“What else should I call it? You’ve admitted you’re here to determine if I’m the type of person who would coerce a sick, vulnerable man into giving me all his money.”

He sighed. “I’m here to understand you—and this whole situation—better. Linc’s impulsive actions don’t make much sense to me, given what I know of his character. He was an astute, methodical businessman. In order for me to get comfortable with the change, I need to get the lay of the land, so to speak. Linc’s request for me to get to know you has nothing to do with my concerns about the will. It’s a completely separate issue.” He turned toward the fire, clutching at the edge of the mantel with both hands.

“I still think it’s strange for you to stay in Harbor Town.”

“Just as strange as Lincoln giving half the control of his entire company to a woman who probably can’t even interpret a basic financial statement?” he wondered, giving her a steely sidelong glance.

Her spine stiffened. “Do you know what I think? I think it bothers you that Lincoln liked me so much.”

“Why should it bother me that he was so taken by you? I suspect many men are,” he said, holding her stare.

Her heart skipped a beat. She wasn’t sure whether to interpret his comment as an insult or a compliment. “Maybe it bothers you because you’re used to being the only one who had Lincoln’s complete affection and trust.”

He made a scoffing sound. “Linc gave his trust to many people, Deidre. Some of the officers of DuBois Enterprises thought he gave it a little too freely for their liking.”

“As in my case, I suppose.”

“Yes … and one other notable case,” he said quietly. She frowned, confused by his reference. He dropped one hand and stepped toward her, so that only a half a foot separated them. She held her ground and hoped he didn’t notice her pulse throbbing at her throat.

“It’s not an inevitability that we have to be enemies,” he said.

“It’s not inevitable that we have to be friends, either,” she said, staring at his chest.

“We might be friends, Deidre. Lincoln thought we could be, anyway.”

“You haven’t decided yet if I’m worthy of the title though yet, have you?”

Despite her cool sarcasm, his nearness made her blood race. Something about his voice affected her for some reason, especially when he said her name. When she’d first heard him speak, she would have taken his accent for typical Midwestern—blunt, clipped, no-nonsense. Every once in a while though, a slight twang would slide into the syllables, a glimmer of something that reminded her of horses grazing in the high desert of the American West, the stark, rugged mountains and clean alpine air that surrounded The Pines.

“Deidre?”

“Yes?” she asked uneasily, meeting his stare.

“I never got a chance to tell you I was sorry about Linc’s passing. Whether or not you’re his daughter, I don’t know, but no one could spend night and day with a person for months like you did and not be affected by the loss. Lincoln was certainly affected by you.”

“Did he tell you that?” She longed to hear his answer, to know every tiny morsel of information about the man who had been in her life for such a fleeting time.

Nick hesitated for a moment. “Yes,” he finally admitted. “But he didn’t have to. He couldn’t take his eyes off you when you were in the room with him.”

She smiled shakily, both warmed and saddened by his words.

“We hardly ever spoke privately while we were at Tahoe, so I also never got a chance to thank you for insisting Linc be taken back to the hospital for diagnostic testing. You were right in thinking something didn’t match up with his presentation and the diagnosis of multiple strokes. Because of your recommendation, we found out Linc’s dysfunction wasn’t just from his strokes. He had a brain tumor. You were right about that all along.”

The surge of grief that went through her gave her the strength she needed to face the fire, breaking his magnetic stare. She lifted her chin. “I guess you were always too busy being suspicious that I’m a conniving opportunist to thank me at The Pines.”

“I’ve been thinking about that. Maybe you’re right,” he conceded slowly. She glanced over at him in surprise. “Having Lincoln inform me that he had a daughter shook me up a bit. I’ve been trying to make sense of things, and I can see why you take me for a rude, single-minded jerk. Why don’t you turn the tables on me? Ask me anything you like.”

For a second, she just stared at him silently before she directed her gaze to the flames.

“How did you meet Lincoln?” she asked.

“I was paired up with him in a Big Brother program when I was eight years old. Who knows where I would have ended up if that hadn’t happened? Prison, most likely. Let’s see,” he paused, his gaze focused elsewhere as he delved into his memories. “I would have been in my sixth foster home placement in two years when I first met Linc. That summer, he hired me as his stable boy. I worked for him, in one capacity or another, for the next thirty years of my life, the only exception being when I was on active duty with the air force.”

Her gaze lingered on his lips for two heartbeats. It was a firm mouth. She could imagine him giving brisk orders with it … easily picture every instruction being followed to a T.

It was also a sensual mouth. She could just as easily imagine women following his every demand in the bedroom. A flicker of annoyance went through her at the thought, but so did a flash of heat.

“Where did you serve while you were in the military?”

“I moved around. Turkey, Iraq—Operation Southern Watch. I did a stint in Sierra Leone.”

“Were you involved in Operation Silver Anvil?” she asked, referring to the European Joint Operations Task Force that evacuated hundreds of people out of Sierra Leone by plane after a bloody military coup d’état.

“Yeah.”

She gave him a swift, assessing glance. “Are you a pilot?”

He nodded once. “Still am, for private purposes. I own a Cessna that I use to get around the country for business. I flew it here, actually. I’m renting hangar space over at Tulip City Airport.”

She smiled. She should have known. He matched the profile of an air force pilot perfectly: handsome, cocky, amazingly sure of himself. His raised brows told her he’d noticed her smug expression. She hurried to change the subject.

“What happened to your parents?”

“They were killed in a car accident when I was six.”

Her head swung around. “That’s horrible. I’m sorry.”

He shrugged. “Unlike most people, I know you really do understand just how terrible it was.”

She swallowed and stepped away from the heat. She’d never spoken with him about the circumstances of Derry Kavanaugh’s death, or the fact that Derry had caused an accident killing three other people, altering the paths of a dozen or more lives forever.

“Did Lincoln tell you about Derry dying in a car crash?”

“No.”

Something in his tone made suspicion flicker in her. “Oh … I see. The infamous private investigator told you.” She shook her head, feeling more exhausted than angry when his level gaze confirmed the truth of her words.

“You left me little choice but to have him gather all the details of your history,” Nick admitted. “You refused to talk to me about your past or tell me anything about you.”

She bit her lower lip, repressing her typical urge to tell him her life was none of his business. The words sounded thin and hollow tonight. “I’m a little tired. It’s been a long day,” she said.

“You should eat. Why don’t you let me take you out to dinner? Or we could order in.”

“No,” she said too abruptly. She blushed and hurried to cover her rudeness. “I … I mean, I really couldn’t eat much more. I’m stuffed from a big brunch at Jake’s Place.”

“Can I take you to dinner tomorrow night, then?”

She gave an exasperated sigh. “You just don’t quit, do you?”

“I told you I was determined.”

“Determined to investigate my character and motives, or to fulfill Lincoln’s wishes?” she murmured quietly.

“There’s no reason I can’t do both at once,” Nick said before he strode toward the kitchen. Deidre followed. While he was putting on his coat, he added, “I’ll bring you a copy of the will when we have dinner tomorrow.”

“Is it possible to get two copies? I want my brother Marc to look it over. He’s an attorney. You could drop his copy off at the Starling Hotel front desk, if it’ll make things easier for you. Marc and his family are staying there, too.”

He nodded. She struggled to interpret his expression when he didn’t move.

“I probably should admit something.”

“What?” she asked.

“I’m here at Lincoln’s request and because I need to understand better why Lincoln changed his will. But aside from that … I’m glad to have the opportunity to get to know you better.”

She just stared at him with her mouth partially open, too amazed to speak. Was he saying what she thought he was saying? Unless he was testing her again—

“Get a good night’s sleep,” he said, interrupting her confused thoughts.

“I’ll do my best,” she replied automatically. He gave her one last glance before he turned away. He checked the lock on the door before he closed it quietly behind him.

It wasn’t until later that she realized she hadn’t objected to him assuming she’d have dinner with him tomorrow.

She lay in bed that night, wondering why she’d grown so discombobulated when Nick mentioned the death of his parents. The reason finally came to her; it was the knowledge of how much they had in common. They’d both served in the military. Both of them had lost parents in car wrecks. Both of them had loved Lincoln DuBois. Circumstances had made them both highly independent and self-sufficient people.

They were both loners. And while Deidre wasn’t an orphan in the classic sense, she thought she might have more of an idea of the loneliness of the condition than the average person. She knew the feeling of being different, of never perfectly fitting in anywhere.

She squeezed her eyes shut and rolled on her side. After recognizing that shared bond with Nick, sleep was a long time coming.

A light snow was starting to fall when she left the house at eleven the next morning. She had plans to visit Marc, Mari and her adorable little niece and godchild, Riley, at the Starling Hotel.

She recalled how Nick had casually slipped into their conversation last night that they’d have dinner together that evening. Was she going to let him get away with his subtle manipulation to spend time with her, or would she avoid Cedar Cottage during the dinner hour? She honestly wasn’t sure about her answer as she headed over to the Starling Hotel, hoping all the while she had no unexpected run-ins with Nick.

During lunch she spilled the news about the will to a stunned Marc and Mari.

After the meal, Mari, Riley and she wandered out into the festively decorated hotel lobby while Marc went to check for a fax from Chicago at the front desk.

“Will you come back to Harbor Town for Christmas?” Deidre asked Mari. Each of them was holding on to one of Riley’s pudgy hands to protect the china vases and glittering Christmas tree ornaments from the curious toddler’s grasp.

Mari shook her head regretfully. “Marc is far too busy with his campaign. Plus, I have a concert Christmas Eve,” Mari said, referring to Marc’s bid for a U.S. Senate seat and her own job as a cellist for the Chicago Symphony Orchestra. “Besides, I think I have finally convinced Ryan to come to Chicago for Christmas. He’s officially a civilian now, like you.” Mari asked, referring to her older brother, who had been an air force pilot.

“He is? That’s wonderful. I always thought I’d run into him while we were both on active duty, but I never did. Are Marc and Ryan getting along now?” Deidre asked.

Mari made a face and glanced down at Riley. Marc and Ryan used to be best friends when they were teenagers. The car wreck Derry had caused while he’d been intoxicated had cruelly taken Ryan and Mari’s parents from them. Grief and anger had severed Marc and Ryan’s friendship long ago. “I wouldn’t say getting along, precisely,” Mari whispered, as if she thought Riley shouldn’t hear. “They behave politely enough, for my sake and for Riley’s.”

The two women shared a glance of compassion. It hurt to know that the old wound between the once close families still festered.

“Would you like to stay with us in Chicago for the holiday?” Mari asked, looking glad to change the painful topic.

“No. I’ll just lie low here for a while, look over that job proposal you gave me.”

“Are you really considering taking the job at the Family Center?” Mari wondered enthusiastically as they sat on a deep-cushioned velvet couch and Riley started to crawl all over them. The Family Center was an innovative program for community education and treatment of substance abuse. Mari had started the center because of the heavy toll drunk driving had taken on her life.

“I don’t know. I love the idea of the preventative project I told you about for returning vets with substance abuse issues related to PTSD and depression, and it seems like a wonderful place to work. I’m going over there tomorrow to have Colleen show me around. Afterward, I’m going to help Eric out with an unexpected rush of intake exams,” Deidre said, referring to Colleen’s physician boyfriend, Eric Reyes, whom Deidre strongly suspected would be her fiancé very soon. “The Family Center is running on a skeleton staff during the holiday season. I’ve kept my nursing license active in Michigan, so it worked out great.”

“That’s wonderful,” Mari enthused, dark eyes sparkling with the excitement of future plans.

Deidre laughed. “Don’t plan on writing me a paycheck yet. I feel like I’m being tossed around by fate at the moment. My future seems so uncertain right now.”

She suddenly realized that if Nick didn’t contest the will, she’d be in a position to fund the project at the Family Center and many more like it. Funny, she’d never really thought of that possibility until now. It just all seemed so unlikely, so incongruous. She—a billionaire.

“Deidre? Are you okay?” Mari asked.

She blinked, realizing she was frowning. She laughed and kissed Riley’s cheek when the little girl crawled into her lap and used Deidre’s shoulders to pull herself into a standing position. Riley squealed and giggled when Deidre gave her a big hug. She’d never been so flattered and moved in her life when Marc and Mari had asked her to be the little girl’s godmother. They’d even made Riley’s middle name the same as Deidre’s.

“I’m sorry,” she said, bouncing Riley on her knee. “I’m really not myself lately.”

“Understandable,” Mari soothed. “You’re life has been turned upside down within a matter of months. You should take some time off for rest and reflection. But I’m still thinking about Christmas. Will you go to Brigit’s?” she asked delicately. “I know how much she wants you to come.”

Deidre sighed, guilt and defiance sweeping through her in equal measure. She was growing increasingly familiar with the feeling, since she had experienced it in distilled form every time she’d noticed her mother had called her cell phone yesterday. She’d left every call unanswered. “I don’t know. Maybe,” Deidre murmured noncommittally. In truth, she wasn’t sure what she’d do for Christmas. She didn’t know if she was ready to return to the Kavanaugh house on Sycamore Avenue or to make amends with Brigit.

Marc joined them a minute later. He held up an envelope.

“Lincoln DuBois’s will,” he told Deidre. “I guess Nick Malone dropped it off at the front desk while we were at lunch. I’ll look it over, then have a friend of mine who specializes in estate law go over it with a fine-tooth comb. I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.”

“That’d be great. Thank you, Marc.”

Marc eyed her worriedly. “Please don’t agree to anything Nick asks of you until you talk it over with me. I’m not crazy about leaving Harbor Town while he’s here. I don’t trust him. It’s just our luck that Liam left town for his honeymoon the day after Malone arrived,” Marc said, referring to Liam’s job as the Harbor County police chief.

Deidre gave her brother a teasing grin. “There’s no need for you to worry. Nick’s presence here may be strange, but I hardly think he’s going to resort to criminal activity.”

“Do you have any interest whatsoever in running DuBois Enterprises?” Marc asked, his expression remaining serious.

“Look at it like this. If an alien landed in your front yard and asked you if you’d like to run their planet, what would you say? That’s pretty much how I feel about this whole situation. I know absolutely nothing about business. Sure, I’d like to learn something about Lincoln’s company, understand it better, but run it?” Deidre asked wryly, glancing from Marc to Mari.

“Just the fact that you’re interested in DuBois Enterprises says something. Don’t let Malone influence you. You’re still in shock about everything that’s happened to you. He might take advantage of that.”

“Come on, Marc. You know as well as anyone I can take care of myself.”

“We’re talking about a hell of a lot of money here, and ten times as much power. It’s not a world we’re accustomed to, Dee. Who knows what people will do when the stakes are so high?”

Deidre laughed. “I said almost the exact same thing to Colleen yesterday.” Her expression sobered as she studied her brother. “Marc—I’m worried about what could happen with your campaign if news gets out about the will. When things go public, there’s a good chance the truth about Mom and Lincoln’s affair, not to mention a lurid rehashing of the car crash, is going to show up in the papers. The Kavanaugh name could be dragged through the mud all over again.”

Mari gave a small groan and looked at her husband anxiously. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

“It’s not like the Kavanaughs haven’t been on the receiving end of bad press before,” Marc reminded both of them, pausing to stroke his wife’s shoulder in reassurance. After Derry had caused the car wreck due to drunk driving, his name and reputation had been battered by the press. The Kavanaugh family had suffered by association. “As a matter of fact, my opponent in the Cook County prosecutor race brought up Dad’s responsibility for the wreck, trying to use it for fuel. I’m used to mudslinging on the campaign trail.”

“But it could ruin your chances for a win,” Deidre protested.

Marc and Mari exchanged a significant glance.

“Marc’s right,” Mari said resolutely. “You have enough on your mind as it is without worrying about the outcome of Marc’s race.” When Marc swung his giggling daughter into his arms and changed the subject, Deidre took the hint and didn’t belabor the topic, although she was far from being reassured.

She’d promised to pick up Liam and Natalie’s mail while they were on their honeymoon in Turks and Caicos. By the time Deidre returned to Cedar Cottage later that afternoon, the snow had picked up. It wasn’t enough to make conditions hazardous yet, but Deidre was glad to be getting home.

Would Nick show up here at the cottage to take her to dinner, she wondered as she went into the cottage. He hadn’t called, but that wasn’t too surprising, given the fact she’d never told him her number. She supposed she should, given their strange, probably impermanent partnership at DuBois Enterprises.

She took a hot bath and dressed in a pair of jeans and a favorite soft, cotton cable-knit sweater. To her dismay, she found herself spending way too much time on her makeup, accentuating the color and shape of her eyes with liner and subtle eye shadow. When she realized what she was doing, she irritably threw the makeup in a bag and stalked out of the bathroom.

What was she doing, primping for Nick Malone?

She was convinced she was indifferent to his arrival when a knock came at her door a little after six o’clock.

She was entirely uncaring about seeing him, that is, until she opened her front door and saw him standing on the dim porch, snow dusting his hair and jacket, and holding the trunk of a perfectly shaped, six-foot pine tree and a huge bag from Shop and Save.

“I thought you might like a Christmas tree,” he stated simply.

She blinked in amazement, transferring her gaze from the tree to his face. She was stunned. Had he noticed last night—that flash of longing she’d tried to hide when they’d talked about childhood Christmases? Had he noticed months ago, at The Pines, when she’d conversed with Lincoln?

She knew he had when she looked into his somber eyes, knew it down in her very bones.

“I hope it’s okay,” he said quietly. “What do you say, Deidre? A truce? Just for one night?” he added when she didn’t speak.

She dazedly realized she’d just left him standing there at the front door, gaping at him.

“I … well … all right. I mean … it is a great tree.” His face lit up at her flustered response. She gave him a sheepish grin. It was hard to frown at Nick when he flashed those dimples.

He gave the pine a good shake to remove the few snow-flakes that had settled on the upper boughs.

“One of the reasons I got this one was that it was beneath a canopy and completely dry … at least until I carried it to the car,” he explained, knocking off a last few stubborn flakes with his gloved hand.

Without thinking Deidre stepped forward and brushed snow off his shoulder, going up on tiptoe to swipe her hand through his dark brown hair. The strands felt thick, soft and chilled beneath her fingers. He glanced at her in surprise. His face was close. He had little flecks of black interspersed in the silver-gray of his irises. His lashes were very thick….

She cleared her throat and stepped back, banging her hip clumsily on the door.

“Come in,” she said breathlessly, opening the door wider to make way for Nick and his heartwarming gift, all the while hoping she wasn’t making a huge mistake by letting him into the cottage … by inviting him into her life.