The Wrong Man For Her

He cringed thinking of the last time he’d seen that pretty face of hers; she’d been crying. The last thing he’d heard her say in that husky voice of hers was “You’re leaving because I thought I was pregnant, aren’t you?”

“I’m sorry Maddie,” he repeated.

“Apology accepted. In return, I’d like your promise you won’t bring up our past again. We need to concentrate on helping people here. Are you capable of that? Because if you’re not, this will never work.”

“I’m capable of that,” he returned, offended. “Obviously we’ve both gotten on with our lives.”

“Yes, we have. Best you remember that, Nick.”

“I will, Dr. Walsh.”

Although he wasn’t sure he could…because it was a lie.

Dear Reader,

Welcome to one of my favorite Harlequin Superromance novels. The idea for this story came to me in two parts. Every summer I work at a camp for kids with cancer. Our group meets to wait for the bus at the Crime Victims Resource Center in my hometown. The place is in a beautiful old brick building in the heart of the city, and houses organizations that help the victims of crimes. I thought, “What a great place this is. And there would be so many story lines for a novel.” I couldn’t get the idea out of my mind all year.

So when I finished Tell Me No Lies, which had Nick Logan, the hero’s brother, as a teen counselor, I promptly moved him to Rockford, New York, where his brother relocates, and gave Nick his own story. (No need to read his brother’s book first, though, as this one stands alone.)

The Rockford Crime Victims’ Center, is self-contained, not just a resource center, based on similar national operations. The people at these centers do wonderful work, helping those victimized by crime with the emotional, legal and practical ramifications. Because of my background as a teacher, and my love for helping kids, I made Nick the counselor for teenagers. Their situations are heartbreaking, but very real. And, of course, Nick is able to make great strides with them.

Nick also ends up working with Madelyn, a woman he broke up with three years before. And she’s now his boss. They hate working together, opening old wounds and resurrecting old feelings, but they’ll do anything for kids, which makes them immensely admirable to me. And yes, in the course of helping two troubled teens, Nick and Maddie find a way to overcome their differences and past hurts.

I love to hear from readers. E-mail me at kshay@rochester.rr.com or write to me at P.O. Box 24288, Rochester, NY 14624. And please visit my Web site and blog at www.kathrynshay.com, and the Superromance site at www.superauthors.com.

Kathryn Shay

The Wrong Man for Her

Kathryn Shay

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Kathryn Shay is the author of twenty-one Harlequin Superromance books and seven novels and two novellas from the Berkley Publishing Group. She has won several awards. Among them are five Romantic Times BOOKreviews awards, three Holt Medallions, three Desert Quill awards and the Booksellers’ Best Award. A former high school teacher, she lives in upstate New York, where she sets many of her stories.

This book is for people all over the world

who dedicate their lives to helping others.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER ONE

NICK LOGAN SLAMMED on the brakes of his little red Mitsubishi Eclipse. Too late. The front end rammed into the back of the van ahead of him. Damn it! Though he’d only glanced away from the snarl of traffic to check the clock, it had been enough time for the long line of vehicles snaking down Route 390 to come to an abrupt halt.

“Great,” he said, unbuckling the seat belt. “Just great.” He vaulted out of the car and hurried to the driver’s side of the van.

Behind the wheel, a man in a business suit had a cell phone to his ear. The guy said something into the mouthpiece, closed the instrument and stuffed it into his pocket. He finally opened the door and got out. “What the hell did you do?”

Nick refrained from reminding him that using a cell phone while driving in New York State was illegal. “You stopped fast. I hit you. Are you all right?”

“No, I’m not all right.” The man’s face flushed. “I have an important meeting in thirty minutes, and I don’t have time for this.” He pointed to his van. “Or this.” He gestured toward the traffic around them.

“Me, either.” The last thing Nick needed was to be late for his first day on the job. Well, his first day back on the job. He glanced at the two bumpers. “I think I took the brunt of it.”

The man strode to the rear of the van and whistled. “That’s what you get for going foreign. And buying a sports car.”

“Whatever.” Nick hated lectures. “How do you want to handle this?”

“You’ll pay, of course.”

“I mean, do you want to call the police or take care of this privately?”

The driver raised his brows. “Can you afford the cash outlay? The cost of your repair is going to be steep, even if it’s just a crumpled bumper.”

“Probably not.” Nick wasn’t thinking clearly. He’d been up pacing the floor most of the night, worried about returning to his old job after a three-year absence. He whipped out his cell. “I’ll call.”

The guy surveyed the traffic. “They won’t be able to get through.”

“The cops’ll find us.” They always did. Nick knew that from personal experience.

“I…”

The wind picked up around them, along with a fine March drizzle. Oh, man, this just kept getting worse. As he punched in 9-1-1, Nick hoped like hell his lousy morning didn’t foreshadow the rest of the day. At least he’d given himself an hour-and-a-half leeway before his meeting with John. And his good friend would be an understanding boss. Or he used to be, anyway.

It took close to sixty minutes for the police to arrive, deal with the reports and for Nick to exchange information with the other driver. It took another twenty to get out of the heavy traffic, which had worsened because of the accident.

He pulled into the Rockford Crime Victims Center parking lot at nine. His need for haste kept him from succumbing to the memories that swamped him as he took in the old, brick building on Plymouth Avenue. He shoved aside any feelings of nostalgia at being back at the Center, where he’d spent several years doing a job that helped other people and made him feel worthwhile.

It was also the place where he’d fallen in love. Though at the time, he wouldn’t admit it to himself. Or to Maddie. At least she wasn’t working here anymore. He didn’t know where she was now, or even if she was still in Rockford. He’d made sure, whenever he’d seen John over the past three years, or exchanged e-mails with Bethany, the Center’s part-time minister, that they didn’t discuss Maddie. All he’d learned was that she’d left the RCVC shortly after he had and had gone on to graduate school. Today, there would only be painful reminders of her within those walls.

The entrance door was unlocked and the reception area was empty. Nick knew Francy Baker, the Center’s secretary, still worked here so perhaps the staff meeting had started. He headed to John’s office on the first floor to check where he was supposed to be.

The door was ajar.

Nick stopped short when he heard the voice that had haunted so many of his midnights say, “It’s past nine. Do you think he’s coming?”

Maddie. His Maddie? What the hell?

“Yes, of course.” John sounded weary. “Today’s his first day as the teen counselor. I’m surprised he’s late.”

Nick stepped into the entrance. “I’m here.”

When Maddie faced him, his pulse sped up. This was his first sight of her since that cold November night three years, four months and two weeks ago when he’d broken off their relationship. She’d changed. Her dark blond hair was shorter now, falling over her eyes in cute bangs. And she wasn’t smiling at him.

He tried to calm his thumping heart. “Hi, Madelyn. John. Sorry I’m late.” He shrugged one shoulder. “Car accident.”

“Hey, buddy.” Rising from a chair, John Kramer, the founder and head of the RCVC, circled around the desk. Without hesitation, he gave Nick a bear hug. When he drew back, he held Nick by the arms. John’s hair was grayer than the last time Nick had seen him, and he looked exhausted. “You okay? Anybody hurt?”

“Only the front of my car. At least it’s still drivable.” He glanced at Maddie, then dropped into a chair when she did the same. John went back to his desk. “What’s going on?” Nick asked. “Why are you here, Maddie? I was under the impression you left the Center a few years ago.”

John sat forward. “Nick, some things have happened you need to know about. Things that have brought Maddie back to the RCVC.”

“What?”

“Lucy had a heart attack six weeks ago.”

Nick recoiled. “Oh, no. H-how is she?”

“Recovered, miraculously. I took the month off to be with her.”

“I see.” Relief came quickly and, on the heels of it, a glimmer of understanding. “So Maddie filled in for you?”

“In a sense.” He cleared his throat. “My wife’s illness shocked me into admitting some things. Ever since my daughter died, I’ve devoted my entire life to this place and neglected other important aspects. It’s time to focus on them now.”

“Well, that’s good. I told you before you needed to slow down.”

Something wasn’t right here, though. He and John had kept in touch since he’d left the Center and it was unusual for them to go six weeks without talking. Of course, Nick had spent the past few months rearranging his life to move back up to Rockford. Still, given how close he was to the Kramers, he was surprised John hadn’t told him about something this serious. “Why didn’t you call me about Lucy? I could have come up early to help at the Center. Or to support you two, at least.”

John glanced at Maddie. “I was afraid if you knew my circumstances you wouldn’t accept the job.”

“Why? Because you won’t be running the place?”

“Yes, though I’ll be here part-time. And will still do your evaluations. But I’m no longer in charge.”

“I don’t understand. Won’t the new administrator…” His words trailed off as awareness dawned. He looked to Maddie, whose stricken face confirmed his suspicions. “You’re the new administrator of the Center.”

“Yes, I am. I took over for John a month ago and I’m staying on to run it.”

“Permanently?”

“Yes.”

Nick gripped the chair. It took him several seconds to rein in his resentment at being duped—by both of them. He struggled to control his anger only because John didn’t need a tirade now. Choosing his words carefully, he addressed his friend and mentor. “I’d like to speak to Madelyn alone, if you don’t mind.”

“This isn’t her fault, Nick. I made the decision to keep you in the dark. As I said, I was afraid you wouldn’t come back if you knew Maddie was in charge.”

“It’s okay, John.” Maddie’s voice was calm. Of course, she’d had time to adjust to this very bad idea. “I’d like to talk to Nick, too. Alone.”

Sighing, John stood. “All right. But if anyone’s to blame, it’s me. Meanwhile I’ll go to the staff meeting and tell everybody you’ll be along shortly.”

When John circled around the desk, Nick rose, too, and grasped his arm. Ignoring the hurt caused by the fact that the Kramers had shut him out, he said, “Don’t worry about this, John. Just take care of Lucy.”

After John left, Nick turned and anchored his hands on the back of the chair. “Surely you must know this can never work.”

Her amber eyes flared, making them look like hot brandy. “No, I don’t know that. I wouldn’t have taken the job if I didn’t think we could do this.”

“Why the hell did you take it?”

“For the same reason you just assured John everything would work out. He’s lost too much in his life and now he has a personal crisis. We have to help out.”

“Madelyn, you can’t want to work with me.”

“Of course I don’t!” She slapped her pad down on the desk. “We might as well get everything out in the open. I never would have hired you back if I’d been in charge when John offered you the job. But that would have been a real loss to the Center, since you work magic with kids. It’s right for you to be here, so we’ll have to make the best of the fact that we have an unpleasant past together.”

His grip tightened on the chair. Her compliment didn’t ease his anger. “It is not acceptable that I wasn’t told about Lucy’s attack or that you’d be running the Center!”

She just stared at him. He could see the strain around her mouth and the tension in her jaw, but she held her ground.

“Damn it,” he said, “what am I supposed to do now?”

“Stay. For the Center’s sake and John’s.”

“And if I do?” He practically spat the words out. “What about us?”

“There is no us, any longer. Right now, we have to think about the victims we can help and what we can do for the Kramers. They were like parents to both of us. We owe them a lot.”

The mention of the role the Kramers had played in Nick’s life diluted some of his rage. Okay, so he should stay at the Center. Hell, he wanted to. But, man, he hadn’t signed on for this. He wasn’t sure he could do it. Yet, did he really have a choice? “I guess I can give it a shot.”

“Fine.” She glanced at her watch and stood. “The staff is probably finished with doughnuts and coffee. We should get down there.”

“Wait a second, Maddie.”

She straightened her shoulders. “Please, don’t call me that.”

“What?”

“Maddie.”

“Why?”

She raised an eyebrow, and he remembered that only he, Beth and John had ever used the nickname. For some reason, her admonition ticked him off.

He folded his arms over his chest. “Would you prefer Dr. Walsh?”

“Madelyn is fine.” Without saying more, she turned and headed out the door.

Rattled by the events of the morning, he followed her. Holy hell, could things get any worse?

UNDER THE conference room table, Madelyn gripped her pen and tried to take surreptitious deep breaths. Her voice was even when she said, “Hi, everyone. Sorry we’re late.”

She nodded to Nick, who’d casually sat down in an unoccupied seat at the other end of table, as if he was merely some new employee. Her pounding heart told her differently. It didn’t help that he looked better than ever in his navy sports coat, silk T-shirt and khaki pants; his dark hair fell boyishly over his navy blue eyes. But she’d be damned if she’d reveal her personal reaction to him.

“Some of you, of course, will remember Nick. Those of you who don’t, this is Nick Logan. He’s a psychotherapist, with an undergrad degree in social work and a masters in psychology, specializing in teenagers. He worked at the RCVC for six years then left for a while. He’s back now and is heading up our new teen division. Hiring him was John’s last formal act as director.” She gave everyone a forced smile. “Let’s start today by introducing ourselves. Those of you who don’t know Nick can fill him in on what you do here.”

At her left, John waved. “Hey, there. Glad you’re back, Nick. It means a lot to me.”

“It’s good to be here.” Nobody else would know from his tone of voice, but a little muscle leaped in his jaw telling Madelyn he was anything but happy.

“I’m in-and-out, periodically, and I’m still writing the grants,” John continued. “I guess I couldn’t quit altogether.”

“You have a lot invested.” Madelyn smiled affectionately at John. “I’m thankful for whatever time you can give us.”

She nodded to the next person. Francy greeted Nick and welcomed him back, as did Abe Carpenter and Deanna Gomez, the counselors for adults. Madelyn knew that both Abe and Deanna liked and respected Nick.

“Hi, Nick. I’m Reid Taylor. I came a few months after you left. I’m a social worker and in charge of the new hotline. I also head the education division. I’m sure we’ll be working together on school programs.”

On Reid’s left, Connor Worthington absently straightened his tie. Classically handsome with dark blond hair and somewhat cold gray eyes, he introduced himself as the lawyer on board.

Nick studied the other man. “We have full-time legal help now?”

Connor said no more, just nodded, so Madelyn explained. “The New York State Bar Association voted to give specially selected organizations like ours a grant for legal aid. Connor’s been with us for six months. We also have a lawyer who helps us out pro bono, but since she’s a volunteer she doesn’t make many staff meetings.”

Madelyn nodded to Emma Jones to continue the introductions. “Hello, Nick. I don’t know if you remember me. I started volunteering a few weeks before you left and am now coordinating all the Center’s volunteers. Welcome back.” She gave him a brief rundown on the people at the RCVC who donated their time to do everything from office work, to court accompaniment, to child care when victims went to their myriad appointments.

“Our police rep isn’t able to be here today.” Madelyn finished up with, “And neither is Bethany Hunter. Her son is ill. You remember her, of course.”

Their part-time minister who oversaw all faith-based initiatives was also Madelyn’s best friend, even though Beth had maintained contact with Nick after he left town. The fact that her calming presence wouldn’t be around today had worried Madelyn till dawn, when she’d finally given up on sleep and come here.

Madelyn gestured to Joe, a paramedic who worked at the Center two days a week. “Logan,” Joe said curtly. “Never expected to see you back here.”

There was a brief, uncomfortable moment of silence. Joe’s tone of voice could not be misinterpreted. Only Madelyn, John and Nick knew the reason for his hostility.

Nick’s gaze zeroed in on Joe, and a bit of the old street kid Nick used to be surfaced from beneath the sophisticated exterior. “I bet you didn’t. But the chance to head a newly funded teen division was an offer I couldn’t refuse.” He stared hard at Joe. “Still advising on insurance forms and medical issues?”

“Yep. I also teach self-defense classes a couple times a week.”

Madelyn jumped in. “I guess that’s it for introductions. Nick, you can meet the people who aren’t here and catch up on what they do later. You and I will have more time to talk after the meeting.” She glanced at her agenda, though she knew it by heart. “I’ve tried to keep this short.” She held up a blue paper. “Schedules are due today by three. Leave them with Francy. If you have any questions, see me. I’ll be in my office until five forty-five, except for a meeting with the mayor at eleven.”

Nick frowned down at the paper, then up at her. “What schedules?”

“Since our hours vary according to need, counseling sessions, court visits, et cetera, on Monday I get a schedule of what everyone will be doing that week.”

He tossed the paper aside. “I won’t be able to fill this out.”

“Why?”

“I don’t meet with the kids until Wednesday. I won’t know their requirements until then, which will determine what I do. And I’ll be off-site a lot when I go to their schools.”

“You’ll have to run all that by me.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s protocol.” She winced at the edge in her voice and the vagueness of the comment. “Look, I have to know where everyone is so I can find people if they’re needed by clients. And when emergencies arise.”

Irritation flared in his face. “I see. Anything else new?”

A few of the staff snickered.

“What?”

Francy shook her head. “The reactions are in reference to the luncheon support group we have every Friday.”

“For the clients?”

“No, for the staff.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“No,” John said, “she isn’t. It’s something I wholly endorse. The National Crime Prevention Bureau recommends personal reflection and support groups for all employees who work at centers like this.”

Nick ran a hand though his dark hair, disheveling it. “Is participation optional?”

“No.”

“Any other policies I should know about?”

Maddie raised her chin. “Some. But we don’t need to review them as a group, since you’re the only newbie. As I said, I’ll fill you in at the end of the meeting. Today’s agenda includes updates on the grant for a part-time counselor for the teen support group, some new reporting forms from the state and the week-long training at the New York State Victims Academy in Buffalo this summer. We also need to talk about the plans for National Crime Victims’ Rights Week coming up in April.” During which John will be honored in Washington, D.C., with the Award for Professional Innovation in Victim Services. “Want to start with that, Francy, since this year’s so special for us?”

Nick held up his hand. “Wait a second. A part-time counselor for my kids?”

“Yes. We don’t run any groups of six or more with one counselor anymore.”

“I work alone.”

“Not in the group sessions. Of course you’ll meet individually with each kid by yourself, but policy dictates you’ll have someone else in the group with you.” Madelyn could tell he wasn’t happy, so she tried to be professional. “Nick, think about it. With someone else assisting you, you’ll have more face time with the kids and more help with the paperwork. And everyone knows the smaller the ratio of kids to adults, the better the sessions go.”

He stared at her, his jaw clenched. When he didn’t say anything more, she told Francy to begin. As the secretary handed out a memo on the National Crime Victims’ Rights Week, Madelyn glanced at the clock. She kept these meetings to an hour, if possible. Only forty-five minutes to go, then she’d have to deal with Nick’s objections to her policies, to her style of management. To her.

So be it. She’d faced worse. Like climbing out of the morass of poverty all by herself. Like recovering from her own victimization. Like getting over Nick Logan when he dumped her three years ago. She’d handle his return to the Center with equal efficiency and success.

Even if it killed her.

“WOULD YOU LIKE a break before we meet?” Maddie’s tone was clipped, giving Nick an indication of how their private meeting was going to unfold. They were the only ones left in the conference room.

“No, thanks. I have a lot to do before my first session with the kids.”

Folding her arms over her chest, she faced him squarely. “Which you will run by me.”

Okay, so he’d make the first move. He stood, walked down to her end and took an adjacent chair. “Maddie…Madelyn, what’s going on? It sounds like I have to tell you everything I plan to do.”

“You have a problem with running things by me?”

“The problem is, I was hired to head the teen division.”

“I’m your boss, Nick.”

“Technically. But we both know I was brought here unaware of that fact.” She opened her mouth to speak, but he held up his hand. “No, let me finish. You’re right, I owe it to John to stay. I want to help him out. And truthfully, this is an ideal job for me. But John assured me I’d be given carte blanche here.”

“John assured me you weren’t going to fly solo on this.”

“Are you assigning another counselor to my group because you don’t trust me? Because our counseling styles are different?”