Star Light, Star Bright

But she wasn’t about to argue. She bent to scoop up the branches, cat spruce and all. “I’ll just clean these up.”

“Leave them.”

No way she could argue with that, either. All she could do was aim for a dignified retreat. “Well, I’m, er, sorry I bothered you.”

He said nothing, and she shrugged. She wasn’t quite sure how to end the conversation. See you around was a possibility, but he’d probably come back with not if I see you first.

“Goodbye, then,” she said. “Merry Christmas.”

“Isn’t it a little early for that?”

“It’s never too early for Christmas,” Angie said. “Sorry I bothered you.”

“You already said that. Go home, Angel.”

There was nothing she could do but leave, aware that his eyes were on her as she made her way through the snow to the plowed road. When she got there, she turned back to try a pleasant wave, but he’d disappeared.

“Hell and damnation,” she muttered, tromping back down the road. Brody Jackson was the last person she needed around here, especially if he’d gotten mean in his old age, and he certainly behaved as if he had. At least he wouldn’t stay long—there was nothing in the town of Crescent Cove for the likes of Brody Jackson.

Her house was toasty when she went back in. She kicked off her snowy boots, put another log in the stove and began to make herself some dinner. Not until she was falling asleep several hours later did she remember what he’d called her.

I F B RODY J ACKSON STILL had a sense of humor he would have laughed. Angel McKenna had thought he wouldn’t remember her. He remembered everything about her—her unflinching gaze, the freckles across her nose, the husky voice that he’d always found such a turn-on. Of course, as a teenager he’d found everything a turn-on. But in particular, Angel McKenna.

She didn’t look that much different. She must be thirty now, and she wore her brown hair long, to her shoulders. Her eyes were the same rich brown that could have the most unnerving effect on a boy. And a man. And her slightly breathless voice was as familiar as if it were yesterday that he’d last spoken to her.

But that wasn’t the case. It had been years, and he still hadn’t quite gotten over her.

It wasn’t arrogance to know that he could have had any girl he wanted in Crescent Cove. Any girl but Angel, who never went anywhere without Jeffrey Hastings by her side. They would have been prom queen and king, he thought cynically. Childhood sweethearts, teenage steadies, the perfect marriage that had been preordained by the Fates.

A marriage that had shattered. He wondered why.

It wasn’t important. He hadn’t come back to Crescent Cove to relive old times; he’d come to lick his wounds and keep a low profile. Softhearted people would say he’d come to heal. More realistic ones would argue he’d come to hide.

In fact, the house on Black’s Point was one of the few things he had left, after the government got through with him. The penthouse apartment in New York, the house in Tahoe, the condo in Hawaii were all gone. As well as the cars, the money and any shred of reputation he might have once had.

And his brothers.

They’d wanted him to join them. They’d siphoned off enough of the money from Worldcomp to keep them very comfortable for the rest of their lives, while thousands of people had lost their life savings, pension plans had gone bankrupt and the very name of their company was becoming synonymous with corporate greed and treachery.

But he’d stayed. As only a junior partner, he stayed to face the music. Once his brothers had left the country he had no more allegiance to anything but the truth, ugly as it was. The Jackson brothers had ripped off hundreds of millions of dollars, covering up that the company was in desperate financial trouble, and they’d departed before it had all blown up in their faces. Leaving Brody behind with his inconvenient conscience.

They’d finished with him in Washington. He’d testified, answered questions, unearthed hidden records—and lost almost everything. He had the house in Vermont, an old Saab, ten thousand dollars and a law degree that he’d never used. And never would, given his reputation.

It was irrelevant that he hadn’t known what his brothers were doing. That was no excuse—it had happened on his watch and he counted it as his responsibility, while his brothers enjoyed life in the Cayman Islands.

He kicked the branches that Angel had cut. She certainly didn’t have much of an eye; these trees were sparse and spindly. He picked up the pair of clippers that had gone flying when he’d startled her and shoved them in his pocket. He’d have to find some way to return them, and the smart thing to do would be to avoid seeing her again.

He could pretend that he hadn’t known she was in Crescent Cove when he’d made up his mind where he’d go, but he’d never been very good at lying to himself. He’d known she was here—the Crescent Cove Chronicle kept a busy social page for such a tiny town—and her presence had been a dangerous lure he couldn’t resist.

He needed to resist it now, now that he’d come face-to-face with her. He hadn’t realized she’d had such an effect on him. Even with Jeff Hastings out of her life, she was still unfinished business, and he’d be wise to keep her that way, at least until he had a better idea of what he was going to do with his shattered life.

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