LITMIR.BIZ

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was making Shayna as antsy as a turkey in November. Her attempt to reconnect with her past had failed. All she wanted now was to keep moving forward.

      Restless, she surged to her feet, but the costume’s skirt remained bunched around her hips. Good Lord—the wavy mass of brown hair spilling over her shoulders covered more skin than this miserable dress! She skimmed her hands over her hips, but the snug material didn’t budge.

      “We’ve got to do something about this outfit before the festival starts.”

      Lindy, bless her understanding heart, ran with the defensive subject change this time. “Definitely. I can’t believe old Mrs. Brinker ran it through the dryer. As petite as you are, I had hoped it might still fit.”

      “Petite?” Relieved to be discussing anything other than the soap opera Patty had wanted to make of her life, Shayna snickered. “That’s just a fancy word for short as a stump.” In her bare feet, she topped out at a whopping five-two. A very full-figured five-two.

      “Imagine how that dress would fit if you were any taller.”

      “If I were any taller, it’d be little more than a belt, and the vice squad would raid the parade for sure.”

      “Nothing illegal about showing a little skin.”

      “A little skin? I look like a stripper from the North Pole.”

      “Yeah, but think about the fundraising possibilities. Thousands of dollars—singles, fives and twenties—tucked into your skimpy costume, one bill at a time. It would be the festival’s most profitable year ever.”

      Lindy’s ridiculous suggestion cracked Shayna up. Within seconds, they were both giggling like schoolgirls. The happy sound helped to chase away the cloud that had hung over her since her return from California.

      For the first time since telling Patty to take a hike, Shayna began to relax. She’d always cherished her calm, uncomplicated life. For the past week, she’d worried her mother’s vile drama would destroy her hard-won happiness, but that wasn’t going to happen. She wouldn’t allow it.

      In the bedroom’s far corner, the phone rang. Shayna skipped over to answer it, but one look at the caller ID brought her laughter to an abrupt halt. Over the past few days, the Southern California area code had become annoyingly familiar.

      Lindy stopped giggling and sat forward quizzically. “Are you going to answer it?”

      “No.” Shayna’s voice, and her answer, sounded weak.

      Her recorded greeting filled the room, followed by a beep, then, “Ms. Miller. It’s Kyle Anderson. Again.”

      “Who?” Lindy mouthed, but Shayna waved her off as her one and only meeting with the man played in slo-mo across her memory’s high-def, digitally clear screen.

      She’d been standing in her hotel lobby, waiting on a cab to carry her to the airport, away from L.A. and her mother’s world of make-believe. When he’d first stepped through the glass doors, his movie star good looks had her thinking she was on the cusp of a celebrity encounter.

      Behind him, an elderly couple struggled to open the door against the powerful Santa Ana winds. Before Shayna could react, Mr. Delicious hustled up, opened the door and ushered the thankful couple inside. His kind gesture and warm smile caused an unexpected stir of warm fuzzies in her belly. She’d always been a sucker for good manners.

      Once the grateful couple moved off, he removed his sunglasses. As his gaze collided with hers, the warm fuzzies exploded into sizzling sparks. She stared openly, helpless to pull back from the most piercing blue eyes she’d ever seen. It was as though he looked straight into her soul. She’d felt simultaneously intrigued and challenged. Her pulse had skittered into high gear.

      In a blink, his intense stare had been camouflaged behind a polished charm. A single dimple winked from his left cheek. He’d extended his hand and introduced himself in the same deep, powerful voice now pouring through her phone. Long distance didn’t diminish the voice’s effect one darn bit.

      “It is urgent that I speak with you. A few minutes of your time, and we can put the whole matter to rest. Please contact me immediately.”

      He paused, then quickly rattled off his office and cell numbers. Shayna expected him to hang up. He always hung up after repeating his numbers. But the voice continued, his baritone plunging lower. “Ms. Miller, you can’t keep running from me.”

      “Wow.” Lindy enthused when the room was silent again. “Does he look as good as he sounds?”

      “’Fraid so. Nearly six feet, broad shoulders, stunning blue eyes, sun-kissed blond hair. Your basic California pretty boy.” Okay, that wasn’t quite true. There was nothing basic about his looks.

      “Sounds yummy. Who is he?”

      “An attorney from Beverly Hills.”

      “Ooh la la. What’s he want with you?”

      “I’m not exactly sure. He said Dr. Walker hired him to ‘contain the Patty Hoyt issue.’” Her fingers wiggled air quotes. “Then he started spouting some legalese about contracts and compensation, but I told him I had no part in Patty’s plans, and I certainly wanted nothing to do with a hypocritical scumbag like his client.”

      “You didn’t!”

      “I did, but luckily my cab pulled up before I could say anything really nasty. I just told him to consider the issue contained and hightailed it out of there.”

      “Are you going to call him back?”

      The answering machine’s message-waiting light flashed red, like a danger signal. “No.” She pressed the erase key. “I’m not interested in anything Dr. Walker or Kyle Anderson have to say. Too little, too late.”

      Despite the frustration boiling through his bloodstream, Kyle Anderson carefully returned the phone to its base. He had a hard-earned reputation as a cool cat here at Thomas, Peake and Moore, and he wouldn’t dare let his guard down.

      “Foolish girl.” He chuckled for effect, knowing his boss, Roscoe Thomas, expected it. “She’s playing hard to get.”

      “If she’s avoiding your calls, why not pay her a visit like you did the mother? No one’s better in person than you, Anderson. Especially with the ladies.”

      Kyle rolled his eyes. “The mother was easy.”

      “We already knew that. If she weren’t, our client wouldn’t be in this predicament.”

      He smiled again because it was expected. He sure as hell didn’t see any humor in the situation. Years of hard work and sacrifice, and now his goal of becoming the firm’s youngest partner hinged on the whims of a stubborn hick from Nowheresville, Tennessee? Not funny at all.

      “I meant, Patty Hoyt was only after money. Her kind’s easily dispensed with. Besides, the daughter has already left town, which makes me think she’s got something bigger in mind.”

      “Like what?”

      “This girl grew up dirt-poor while Walker’s legitimate kids had every advantage money can buy. Judging by her bank records, she’s still barely scraping by. Sounds like a recipe for revenge to me.”

      The glint of humor in Roscoe’s eyes turned to steel. “Then stop her. Immediately.” Still intimidating at sixty, Roscoe stood. “This is your chance, Anderson. Steven Walker pays a lot of salaries around here. He wants this matter resolved quickly, and the partners want him happy.”

      Kyle stood and crossed his arms. At a sniff under six feet, he had to cock his chin to meet Thomas’s icy stare, but he dialed back the aggression with a cocky wink. “Leave Shayna Miller to me. Like you said, I’m good with the ladies.”

      “We can’t afford to lose Walker.” Thomas’s voice turned as cold as prison bars. “You want a lucrative future with this firm, then do whatever

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