LITMIR.BIZ

      Chapter Four

      When Jamie reached Seattle, she had to attend to a few details. Namely she had to see about a rental car. She could not, after all, go chasing her fugitive fiancé by taxi or bus.

      As she completed the necessary paperwork, the question that had plagued her ever since her arrival in Washington state surfaced yet again.

      What am I doing here?

      Was it sheer stubbornness? Was it as simple as refusing to accept what had happened to her at the altar? Rather too forcefully, Jamie signed her name on the rental-car agreement. As she walked across the lot and inspected the small cream sedan assigned to her, she realized her presence here wasn’t as simple as the last-minute loss of a fiancé. That hurt had merely scratched the surface of a much deeper wound she held inside her.

      She asked herself again, What am I really doing here?

      A childhood memory came to her now, unbidden. That day, not long after her father had left, the snow falling thick and fast outside, unusually intense for a New Mexico winter. And Jamie, face pressed to the window, the glass cold against her cheek, straining to see through the flurry. Straining to see her dad coming up the walk, returning to her. Her mother, sitting rigidly in one of the living room chairs, pretending to read, but then, at last, setting the book down with a gesture of exasperation. “He’s not coming, Jamie. He’s never coming back. Accept it.”

      Jamie climbed into the vehicle and stared, unseeing, out the windshield for a moment. She would not—could not—believe that Shawn’s feelings for her had been mere illusion. She would not—could not—make the same mistakes as her mother. Caroline Williams had never truly fought for her own happiness. Instead she had held on to her pride for almost twenty long years. But pride didn’t protect you from a broken heart. It only prolonged the heartache.

      Jamie turned the key in the ignition. All this time, her mother had been unable to confront the more painful dilemmas of her marriage and divorce. She’d retreated instead, as if to keep her dignity intact. But Jamie refused to retreat.

      Pressing her foot down on the gas, she drove a little too quickly out of the lot. The rental-car company had provided her with a map and, despite the heavy traffic of the city, it didn’t take her long to find Shawn’s neighborhood—a tumble of exclusive homes clinging gracefully to a hillside. Shawn’s house was a striking angular design, all shining glass and concrete beams. Jamie climbed out of the car, her heart thumping. She might be confronting Shawn in only a second or two.

      No such luck. She stood on the porch and rang the doorbell three times. Jamie waited for what seemed an eternity, then rang again. She waited some more. The sleek rows of windows surrounding her seemed to reflect back only emptiness.

      Jamie went down the steps and turned so that she’d have a better look at the place. It was brash and elegant all at once. On the one hand, she could see the attraction. This house made a definitive, commanding statement, even while lending itself to the foliage all around. On the other hand…

      It was not at all the type of home that she and Shawn had so often discussed. They’d talked about the quaint fixer-upper they’d find one day. They’d imagined spending long weekends together remodeling it or searching for antiques to furnish it. Eventually, of course, the house would be filled with the laughter and happy chaos of children—at least two. A dog to complete the picture…

      This house did not seem like the type of place that would welcome children. Jamie couldn’t imagine smudge prints on all those spotless windows or a bicycle sprawled on the immaculately clipped lawn. Professional gardening service, no doubt. Jamie couldn’t envision Shawn pushing a mower here. Yet he’d talked about how much he enjoyed physical work, all the details of rehabilitating a home: weeding and landscaping, not to mention tearing down walls, putting up new ones, sanding and tiling and painting.

      This house was too perfect. It would reject any such friendly tampering.

      Jamie was more confused than ever. Shawn had always seemed so content, so pleased to be sharing those homey, everyday dreams with her. He couldn’t have been pretending…could he?

      Jamie turned and went back to her car. She felt as if she were that child all over again, imprisoned in the house by snow. Trapped by her own inability to open the door and seek what she had lost…

      If Shawn had genuinely shared her dreams, why had he left her? Why hadn’t he shared all of his life with her? And why, dammit, had she been so blinded by love? Had she missed warning signs she might have seen otherwise?

      Jamie was shaking inside. She sat in the car for a long time, gazing out the windshield. The flurry of unanswered questions tormented her. Perhaps the most insistent of all: What am I really doing here?

      Finally, she placed her hands, which had steadied, on the wheel and pressed her foot on the gas once more.

      IT OCCURRED TO ERIC that his Seattle office, of late, suffered from a split personality. A crisis of identity. It had all the necessary business accoutrements—executive desk, state-of-the-art computer, digital scanner—but one large corner had recently been converted into a play area, complete with puzzles, building blocks and stuffed animals. Taking pride of place were a long-lashed giraffe and a woolly mammoth.

      Could you really run a company and at the same time compensate for having been a less-than-stellar father? Eric was trying to find out just that. He’d arranged his schedule so that he could work from home whenever possible, as well as bring Kaitlin into the office with him. He was trying to juggle everything in his life without dropping a ball. His gaze strayed toward the framed photographs displayed on his desk. Kaitlin’s school portrait from last year, as well as a picture of her when she was only a few months old.

      The first time Eric had held his daughter, everything had seemed possible to him. Her tiny fingers had curled around his. Odd, in a way, that such a small bundle of pink had made him feel invincible. But his child had needed him, depended on him, so of course he would be strong. Of course he would conquer the world. But even then she’d looked up at him solemnly, as if already searching the depths and complexities of their future together.

      Had he begun to fail her even then? Had he spent too much time pursuing his work responsibilities and not enough time simply being her dad? Had he too often gone through the motions of being a father?

      A sound at the doorway drew him from his brooding thoughts. He saw Jamie Williams framed there as if in a painting. The clear hazel of her eyes, the nuances of red and gold in her hair, the warm tone of her skin, as if a touch of sunlight had been captured there, created a palette of colors.

      It hadn’t been all that long since he’d seen her—he’d driven her to the ferry only this morning—but he found himself analyzing certain facets of her as if for the first time. The determined tilt of her chin, the sexy curves hinted at by that dress…

      Eric rubbed his neck where that inconvenient crick seemed to have lodged of late. He reminded himself that Jamie Williams was his brother’s problem.

      Jamie’s expressive face conveyed evident frustration. “I thought—I’d hoped, anyway…” Her voice trailed off. He knew exactly what she’d hoped: to find Shawn here.

      Jamie seemed to be reordering her thoughts. She stepped into the office. “I

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