If I Trust You

Beth Kery

www.spice-books.co.uk

Also available

IF YOU COME BACK TO ME

IF I CAN’T LET GO

IF I CAN’T HAVE YOU

IF I NEED YOU

BETH KERY holds a doctorate degree in the behavioural sciences and enjoys incorporating what she’s learned about human nature into her stories. To date, she has published more than a dozen novels and short stories and writes in multiple genres, always with the overarching theme of passionate, emotional romance. To find out about upcoming books in the Harbor Town series, visit Beth at her website at www.BethKery.com or join her for a chat at her reader group, www.groups.yahoo.com/group/BethKery.

This story brings me full circle

in the Home to Harbor Town series,

so I’d like to thank all the readers who have

supported the books thus far, in addition to everyone who

contributed to its evolution: my agent, Laura Bradford,

my editor, Susan Litman, beta readers Lea,

Mary and Sandy and, of course, my husband,

who is forever patient with my never-ending questions

about business transactions or the specifics

of how this or that piece of machinery actually works.

My deepest appreciation to you all.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Epilogue

Chapter One

Clutching one of the delicate centerpieces from her brother’s wedding reception, Deidre Kavanaugh walked out of the near-empty ballroom alone. She was beyond grateful to have witnessed Liam’s happiness at marrying the love of his life—Natalie Reyes—tonight. Now that family and friends were gone, however, and the romance and gaiety of the wedding was over, she couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed to be flying solo.

Again.

She didn’t have to be alone, of course. Staying at Cedar Cottage instead of at her sister Colleen’s had been Deidre’s choice. She was used to her solitary ways at this point in her life, and old habits died hard.

Of course, her mother, Brigit, had invited Deidre to stay at the family home on Sycamore Avenue. Deidre had politely refused and then tried to harden her heart when she saw her mother’s hurt, sad expression. Her refusal couldn’t have been too surprising, considering that Deidre held such anger toward her mother for keeping the identity of her biological father a secret for so many years. Deidre had only learned Lincoln DuBois was her natural father late last summer. If it hadn’t been for Liam and his Natalie’s investigation into their past, Brigit would have taken the secret to the grave with her.

A million stars sparkled against the backdrop of an ebony night sky when she walked out of the Starling Hotel. Liam and Natalie had chosen a windless, frigid night to celebrate their marriage. She took a deep breath when she walked out onto the steps, but it didn’t help much to revive her. The last three months of her life had been stressful...life-altering. She’d learned the identity of her biological father and then lost him to cancer within months of gaining that knowledge.

Deidre was exhausted, body and soul.

She paused on the steps, inspecting the little town by starlight. It seemed surreal to be back in Harbor Town. The quaint little community had once been the site of so much childhood innocence and bliss. It’d also been the place where she’d made the horrific discovery she wasn’t really Derry Kavanaugh’s daughter. Derry had had that truth confirmed on the same night. His consequent ragged emotional state was what had led to a traumatic car crash in which Derry had been killed along with three others. Deidre had left Harbor Town the summer before college and never returned—until last night.

She was in the process of searching for her rental car keys in her evening bag, clutching at the floral centerpiece the whole time, when a man called out to her. She came to an abrupt halt in the parking lot, her breath sticking in her lungs. She recognized that clipped, authoritative voice.

Nick Malone. Hearing it so unexpectedly here in Harbor Town set her immediately on edge. For some reason, one of the first things Nick had ever said to her when she told him about her discovery that she was Lincoln DuBois’s biological daughter popped into her brain at that moment.

You must have thought you woke up one day and won the lottery.

She spun around. His shadow looked large and imposing against the backdrop of the night sky.

“What are you doing here?” she asked Nick breathlessly.

“We have important things to discuss. I would think that’s obvious, following Lincoln’s death.”

His face was difficult to make out in the dim light, but what Deidre couldn’t see, she filled in from memory—the rugged, bold features, the cool, suspicious gaze that always seemed to be detailing her flaws.

“I can’t believe you came here.”

“I can’t believe you thought for a second I wouldn’t find you, wherever you went,” he replied dryly. “You knew the reading of Lincoln’s will took place yesterday at The Pines,” he continued, referring to Lincoln’s palatial lodge on the edge of Lake Tahoe.

Deidre shifted in her high heels anxiously. “My brother’s wedding was tonight. But you must already know or you wouldn’t have shown up here. I guess you’ve been giving more work to that private investigator you hired to snoop into my personal life.”

Her gaze dropped to his coat-draped, broad shoulders when he shrugged. “Nothing so melodramatic. Your sister Colleen told me about the wedding after Linc’s funeral. It didn’t take a detective to figure out you were probably here. As to your personal life, that pretty much became my business the day you told me about your claim to be Lincoln DuBois’s daughter.”

She tamped down her flare of temper at his arrogant presumption. “Lincoln was my father. I just wanted to know him. I’ve told you from day one I don’t care about Lincoln’s money or your precious company,” she said, referring to her biological father’s multibillion-dollar conglomerate, DuBois Enterprises, where Nick acted as chief executive officer. Nick not only ran Lincoln’s company: he was Lincoln’s protégé and like a surrogate son to her newfound father. As such, he seemed to think it was his business to question her every move and treat her like a conniving gold digger. It seemed an utter impossibility to convince him that she had no designs whatsoever on Lincoln’s wealth. She gave an exasperated sigh when he stubbornly remained silent. “Why should you care where I go? What difference does it make what I do, now that Lincoln has passed away?”

“It makes a difference. Look, why don’t we go and find a place to have a cup of coffee and talk?”

“There’s really nothing left for us to talk about. Besides, didn’t you interrogate me enough at The Pines?” she said. Deidre had lived there, nursing her newly found father until he’d finally succumbed to a brain tumor last week.

“Interrogate? You hardly ever stuck around long enough for me to ask a question, let alone interrogate you. You avoided me like the plague whenever we were both at The Pines. If you would just consider the matter rationally for a moment, you’d see the importance of me understanding your motives...of knowing you better. Lincoln entrusted me with his company. It’s my job to protect his interests.”

Deidre glanced away guiltily. She had avoided Nick a lot, but she told herself she’d done so because she didn’t care for Nick’s patronizing manner. In truth, her avoidance might have had something to do with her reaction to him as a man. Nick Malone was the last man on the planet she should find attractive.

She shivered, whether it was from anger or anxiety over Nick’s unexpected presence, she couldn’t say. “I’m not interested in Lincoln’s estate or DuBois Enterprises. I wanted to know him as best I could, given the short time we had. Why is that so hard for you to comprehend?”

His head went back, his indrawn breath hissing against his teeth. She sensed his profound frustration, but given how bewildering his presence here was, she had a hard time feeling sorry for him. Wasn’t her life complicated enough without Nick? She shivered again.

“It’s freezing out here, and there’s something important I need to tell you,” he muttered. He reached out and cupped her elbow. “Will you at least sit in my car so I can turn on the heat?”

Those sharp eyes of his didn’t miss much, she recalled. Something in his tense, strained manner sent a distant alarm going off in her head.

“Is it really that important?”

“More important than you know.”

“All right,” she said cautiously after a moment. She took a step, breaking their contact. His touch unsettled her. He waved to the left and tilted his head.

She followed him into the next row of cars. He hit the remote lock with his thumb and a dark sedan’s headlights blinked. Deidre sat when he opened the door for her, placing the floral arrangement on the floor next to her feet. She said nothing when he got in the car and turned on the ignition, but she was highly aware of him. The dim dash lights made it possible for her to make a covert study of him. Nick was the type of man who dominated a room once he entered it. Inside a car, his presence crowded rational thought completely out of her mind.

He wore a suit and an attractive black cashmere dress coat, making her wonder if he’d been prepared to enter Liam’s wedding reception to find her. Deidre had immediately understood upon being introduced to Nick that while he may possess a handsome face and the fit, lean body of an athlete and horseman, he wasn’t about looks.

He was about power.

The walking embodiment of an alpha-male tycoon, Nick conquered the business world just like cowboys had vanquished the intimidating, rugged landscapes of the American West.

She wouldn’t let him conquer her with the same heavy-handed tactics.

He gripped the steering wheel with gloved hands. She tensed, waiting for his attack.

“You’re pale,” he muttered. “Have you been sick?”

Deidre’s jaw dropped open. She looked at him in amazement, but he kept his face turned in profile. His gruff solicitation was the last thing she’d expected.

“You can tell I’m pale by examining me in a dark parking lot?” she asked, saying the first thing that came to mind to cover her embarrassment.

“I saw you at the reception, dancing with that man.”

“You actually came into the ballroom?”

“I just stood in the door, looking for you.” He ignored Deidre’s exasperated sigh. “Who was he?”

She did a double take. “Who was who?”

“The man you were dancing with.”

Deidre blinked. She’d forgotten Nick wasn’t at The Pines last autumn when her brother Marc had visited to offer her support.

“It was my brother Marc. Can you please get on with whatever is so important?”

“You can’t just run away from all this, Deidre. It’s naive of you, or stubborn, or both to think you can say you’re Lincoln DuBois’s daughter and not expect any ramifications to that claim. Why won’t you agree to the genetic testing, at the very least?”

Nervousness fluttered in her stomach. She’d been expecting him to broach this topic. Just the term genetic testing had taken on an electrical charge in the past few months. Unbeknownst to Nick, she’d already had the testing done. She’d refused to comply when Nick and DuBois Enterprises’s chief legal officer, John Kellerman, insisted upon it. Mostly she’d ignored their demands because they’d made them in such a condescending, suspicious manner. Her body wasn’t the property of DuBois Enterprises, and as far as she was concerned, its representatives had no right to make demands upon it. When Lincoln had requested the same thing, however, she’d immediately agreed.

But he’d died before they’d received the results.

What if she wasn’t Lincoln’s daughter? Deidre wondered for the thousandth time. The thought caused a familiar raw ache to expand in her belly. It frightened her a little, to consider how much hope she’d invested in being Lincoln’s natural child. If she wasn’t Lincoln’s, she’d be right back where she’d been for most of her entire adult life.

An outsider. Anchorless. Different. Fatherless.

“Deidre?” Nick prompted quietly. She blinked. Had he noticed her anxiety? She took a deep breath.

“I’ve already had the genetic testing done at a place called GenLabs in Carson City.”

“You did?” he asked intently.

She nodded.

“When?”

“About three weeks ago. Lincoln asked me to have it done, but he died before we got the results,” she said, her hushed voice quaking. From the periphery of her vision she saw his hand came off his thigh jerkily, but then he replaced it. A strained silence followed. For a split second, she’d thought he meant to touch her...to comfort, before logic had set in. Her heart thrummed louder in her ears as she stared fixedly out the front window.

“And?” he asked in a subdued tone.

“They told me at the lab that the results would take up to seven weeks. We should have the results before Christmas. They agreed to call me and tell me the final result before they send out the report.”

She turned when he exhaled raggedly. He looked tense.

“What’s wrong? Aren’t you glad that I’ve had the testing? It’s what you and John Kellerman and everybody at DuBois wanted all along.”

“Of course I’m glad. Now there’s nothing to do but get to know one another better. And wait.”

“Why should the results matter so much to you? I won’t make any claims on Lincoln’s assets one way or another.”

He laughed softly...mirthlessly. He had dimples. It had struck her as amazing the first time she’d met him to see those two indentations in such a formidable face. She recalled how once she’d seen some graffiti painted on a craggy rock face of the mountains several miles outside of the Bagram Air Base in Afghanistan—a smiley face grinning innocuously from a war zone.

She had a similar reaction to Nick’s dimples.

“You make it sound so simple,” he murmured.

“It is simple.”

“It never was simple, and it just got exponentially more complicated.”

“What are you talking about?” she asked slowly.

“I came to Harbor Town to tell you that Lincoln had a new will drawn up. He’s left you half of the wealth and property he didn’t leave to charity. He’s also left you a fifty percent controlling interest in DuBois Enterprises.”

“What?” she asked numbly.

“You’re an heiress, Deidre. The way things stand right now, you’re one of the wealthiest women in the country.”

She might have heard the flutter of a butterfly’s wings in the ensuing silence. She inhaled slowly, trying to ground herself. This could not be happening.

And yet...what was that strange, warm, wonderful feeling growing deep down in her belly?

He made me his heiress. Lincoln truly did believe I was his daughter. His faith was his proof. Lincoln hadn’t required the scientific variety.

Something shivered through her. It took Deidre a moment to recognize the feeling as pure joy.

* * *

Nick decided that if Deidre Kavanaugh had had any part in manipulating Linc to alter his will in her favor, she certainly was one hell of an actress. Every nuance of her face and body suggested she was utterly stunned by the news she was an heiress to a massive fortune.

“He didn’t,” she whispered, obviously in shock.

“He did.”

“Lincoln can’t have meant it. There must be a mistake. I’m a nurse, not a businesswoman,” she said hollowly.

“From your reaction, am I to assume you didn’t have prior knowledge of the change of will?”

“I had no idea,” she said. Her spine stiffened when he cocked one eyebrow in a show of subtle disbelief, testing her. She leaned across the console toward him. He caught the subtle scent of her floral perfume and, for a few seconds, his thoughts scattered. Deidre had a way of making him forget practical goals and objectives.

“I resent your tone,” she said. “I suppose you have it all worked out, don’t you? You figure I manipulated and cajoled a sick, vulnerable man into leaving me all his money, is that it?”

“What have I told you, time and again while we were at The Pines together, Deidre?” he murmured softly.

She snapped her jaw closed. He found himself studying her beautiful face cast in the dim dashboard lights. What was it about her? Her elegance mingled with a sort of bad-girl charm. She fascinated him, whether he wanted to be fascinated or not.

“That you’re Lincoln’s man,” she answered his question, her chin tilted at the stubborn angle to which he’d grown all too accustomed. “That you’ll do whatever is in your power to make sure his wishes are carried out,” she quoted the familiar refrain.

He nodded. Their meetings at The Pines had been few and fleeting, not to mention charged. Nevertheless, Nick was glad to hear he’d imparted that particular message loud and clear to her.

“There’s something else I want you to know,” Nick said.

“What?”

“Until I can rest assured you’re his daughter, that Lincoln was of sound mind when he drew up the new will, and that you had no part in coercing Lincoln’s actions in the last days of his life, I plan to contest the will.”

She flinched as if he’d just slapped her. Regret spiked through his awareness, the strength of it catching him off guard. She’d gotten under his skin. He could understand why Lincoln had been so taken by her. But the fact remained, the way things stood, there was a good chance Deidre and he would be sitting across a courtroom from each other sometime in the near future. He had no right to find her fascinating.

“You just don’t get it,” she said, her low voice shaking with fury. “I nursed and cared for Lincoln with every ounce of compassion and skill I possess. Ask any of the servants, or the hospice nurses, or Dr. Leland. Everything I did, I did with the hope of having him for another day...another minute.”

“That may be true. I’m suspending judgment on the matter.”

She gave an incredulous bark of laughter. “Suspending judgment until when?”

“Until I have the opportunity to observe you, understand your character, your motivations, your life. I’ll be staying in Harbor Town for the next few days or weeks or however long it takes to do that.”

“Who says I plan to stay in Harbor Town?”

He shrugged. “I’ll make a point to go wherever you go. I hope you’ll cooperate with this. If you’ve got nothing to hide, why should it matter if I spend time with you and get to know you better?”

“Why don’t you just get that private investigator you hired before to do it?” she asked scathingly.

“I don’t trust his powers of observation as much as I do my own.” He held her stare. He watched as her expression went slack in disbelief as she realized he was dead serious.

“You’re crazy,” she whispered.

“No,” he corrected. “I’m determined. And I’m committed to the health and well-being of DuBois Enterprises and its thousands of employees.”

She made a sound of disgust, but Nick was undaunted. He studied her in the dim light. She’d combed her short, golden blond hair behind her ears, where it curled in gleaming waves. It looked silken soft. She was clearly a beauty, but it wasn’t her physical attributes that made him want to touch her—at least not entirely. It was the way Deidre carried herself, the way she moved with a careless grace and bone-deep confidence. Without ever trying, she was a classic American beauty with an edge. A perfect, prickly, long-stemmed rose...

...Grace Kelly with a serious attitude.

Beautiful, fierce and fascinating Deidre may be, but he’d come here with a mission. Either he’d determine that Deidre was somehow unworthy of Linc’s estate or he’d gain her compliance. It just wasn’t an option to be left at the helm of DuBois Enterprises without any real control, watching helplessly while the great company crashed, taking thousands of employees and dependents down with it.

“What are you really doing here, Nick?” she asked warily.

“I’ve told you. I’m here to learn more about you. If I’m given the opportunity to get to know you for a period of time without you avoiding me, I’ll come to a conclusion about you. We can move on regarding Lincoln’s last will and testament.”

“So what...you plan to investigate me? Stalk me? Harass my friends and family? Lurk around and take pictures of me through a telephoto lens?”

“Would I catch anything interesting?” he asked, hiding a smile.

“I’d make sure you did,” she promised so menacingly he raised his eyebrows. Seeing her slender, elegant figure swathed in a sophisticated dress had temporarily made him forget Deidre was a warrior. The background report he’d commissioned had painted a picture of a courageous, headstrong, fiercely independent woman who refused to settle down into any traditional path. She was not only a collegiate championship diver; she’d been an expert trick skier, financing much of her college education by performing in water shows. Her military record was stellar. She’d even been awarded a medal for entering an active area of combat to save one of her patients when a field hospital had been unexpectedly attacked.

“You can’t plan on staying in Harbor Town,” she continued, looking at him like he was possibly mad. “It’s hardly a place for movers and shakers.”

“I’ll manage. I work on the road all the time. The hotel is offering me decent business facilities. I’ve made it clear at company headquarters that we’ll keep my presence here under wraps for a while. I don’t want the press getting hold of the story about the will yet. It’s going to become a media frenzy when they do find out.”

“This hotel?” Deidre asked, pointing at the building behind them.

He nodded.

She closed her eyes and he sensed it again, her extreme fatigue, her vulnerability.

“There’s another reason we should spend some time getting to know each other better, Deidre.”

She opened her eyes. He couldn’t see their hue in the dim light emanating from the dashboard, but he knew they were an unusual blue-gray color. He could clearly see the line of her jaw and the delicate shell shape of her ear.

Was she made so perfectly everywhere?

“I’m afraid to ask,” she murmured.

“Lincoln wrote me a letter before he died. He specifically asked me to get to know you better.”

“Why?” she demanded. She leaned toward him, her fatigue seemingly disappearing at the mention of the man she believed to be her father. Her curiosity bordered on hunger. It struck him as understandable, but sad, that she was so desperate for information about Linc. Again, he inhaled her clean, floral feminine scent. His muscles clenched tight in restraint.

“Linc knew I had my doubts about your claim to be his child. Maybe he thought us spending time together would put those doubts to rest. He likely also knew that no one else could teach you about your inheritance as well as I could.”

“Can I read the letter?”

“No.”

She started at his abruptness.

He shut his eyes briefly when he saw her hurt, incredulous expression. Lincoln’s letter had been heartbreakingly honest, almost childlike in its plea. Nick had been moved deeply by that letter, but at the same time, it’d made him question whether or not Lincoln was of sound mind when he’d changed his will. He couldn’t tell Deidre that, though. She’d just accuse him of causing his prejudice against her to influence his opinion about Lincoln’s motivations and state of mind.

“Not now you can’t, Deidre,” he said quietly. “I have my reasons for saying that. Don’t take offense. Please.”

But she had taken offense, he realized. Her backbone went ramrod straight.

“May I ask why it is that you believe you have the right to constantly call my morals and character into question, why you have the right to investigate me like a common criminal, when I don’t even have the right to ask a simple thing of you?”

“I didn’t mean you can’t ask me things,” he grated out.

“It sounded that way to me,” she said, picking up her evening bag from her lap and retrieving the centerpiece from the floorboard. She reached for the car door and then suddenly went still, her hand outstretched. She turned, her brow crinkled in consternation. Her mouth fell open as if something had just dawned on her.

“Wait a second...” she muttered.

“What?”

“The other half of Lincoln’s estate—he left it to you, didn’t he?”

“Yes,” Nick admitted.

The weighty silence was shattered by Deidre’s desperate bark of laughter.

“Do you mean to tell me—”

“That’s right,” he said more calmly than he felt. “My hands are tied without you. There’s a major acquisition deal I’ve been brokering now for months, for instance, and even though the time is ripe for DuBois Enterprises to buy, I’m powerless to act without your consent. The way things stand legally right now, I can’t make a major decision on behalf of DuBois Enterprises without your agreement. So for the time being, we’re partners. Whether we like it or not.”

Chapter Two

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 snowflakes 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.

Chapter Three

They set the tree in the front window where it could be easily admired from the rural road and while curled up on the couch before the fire. Deidre busied herself pulling out all the decorations from the bag while Nick arranged the tree in the base.

“Look at these old-fashioned lights! I love these. They’re so retro,” she said, grinning as she withdrew large, colored bulbs from the bag. Nick removed his head from beneath the tree and glanced back at her. She couldn’t help but notice he was awesome to look at, lying on his side with his back to her, his hands beneath the tree, tightening the screws on the base. His body was long, his hips were lean, his thighs strong-looking. His back muscles flexed interestingly beneath the blue-and-white plaid fitted shirt he wore. She dragged her gaze off the vision of his butt outlined in a pair of jeans.

Her cheeks heated when she noticed his strange expression. Had he noticed where she’d been staring?

“What’s wrong?” she asked when he continued to look at her.

“Nothing. It’s just—Lincoln liked that kind of bulb, too. He never gave a damn about new trends. Not when it came to Christmas. He put up an old-fashioned Christmas tree at The Pines—large, colored bulb lights, garland, tinsel...always the biggest, most gorgeous tree on the lake,” he mumbled. He stuck his head beneath the tree again.

Deidre walked toward him, still holding the box of lights.

“Would Lincoln have the staff put up the tree?”

“The staff helped, but Linc was always in the middle of things. He’d make a party of it,” she heard him say from beneath the boughs. “Sasha, Linea, Otto and Linda joined us last year,” he said, mentioning Lincoln’s chef, administrative assistant, driver and one of his nurses. “Linc insisted on being brought downstairs and overseeing things from his wheelchair.”

“So you were always there for the Christmas decorating ritual?” Deidre asked, running her fingers over the supple needles of the tree.

“Yeah, I usually made a point of trying to clear my schedule to be there.”

She imagined the staff, Nick and Lincoln, the festive mood lightening their spirits, Lincoln directing them on their decorating and encouraging them to partake of food and drink. “Of course, you must have put the tree in front window of the great room. It must have looked fabulous.”

“Yeah. Lincoln was like a kid at Christmastime. I wouldn’t be surprised if he asked the architect to design The Pines with that huge window so that he could get himself a twenty-five-foot pine to put in it every year. How’s that look? Is it straight?” he queried.

Deidre stepped back and walked in a half circle, inspecting the tree—and Nick—beneath it. “It’s perfect.”

He backed out and stood. She waved toward the kitchen. “I bought some hot chocolate earlier. It’s just instant, but—”

“I’d love some.”

“Oh...okay, great, then I’ll just—”

“Here. I’ll start to put on the lights and you get the hot chocolate,” he said, coming toward her. She handed him the box of bulbs. When he didn’t move back and Deidre didn’t immediately head toward the kitchen, a strange combination of awareness of his nearness and awkwardness struck her at once.

“What about music?” he asked.

She started. “Music?”

“Yeah. You know...‘White Christmas,’ ‘Jingle Bells.’”

Deidre laughed. She couldn’t help it. Something about the idea of scowling, bottom-line, business-mogul Nick Malone getting into the Christmas spirit was funny, and yet...right somehow, too.

She ignored his bewildered expression at her laughter and walked toward the bedroom, where there was a radio. “I’ll see if I can’t find a station playing some.

“Was Lincoln responsible for this?” she mused a few minutes later when she walked into the living room with two steaming mugs. “We Three Kings” played softly on the radio while snow drifted down at a lazy pace outside of the window.

“For me bringing over the Christmas tree?” Nick asked as he strung on lights.

“No. For this unexpected proclivity for Christmas spirit in Nick Malone,” she said, turning the handle of his mug so he could grasp it with one hand.

He took a sip, studying her from over the rim.

“You assumed I’d be a Scrooge, I guess.”

“All I have to go on is precedent.”

A shiver went through her at the sound of his deep, gravelly laughter.

“Maybe you’re right,” he said, handing the cup back to her after a moment. “I have a lot of really good memories from Christmases at The Pines. After we met, Linc invited me over every year for the decorating party and also on Christmas Eve. When I got older, he was always encouraging me to lighten up at that time of year...enjoy the holiday...try to reflect on what it was I was working so hard for. What about you?”

She set his mug on the mantel and glanced back at him. “What do you mean?”

He shrugged and resumed his task. “How’d you get to like Christmas so much?”

“My family was always big on Christmas,” Deidre said, poking through the bag and beginning to unwrap some garland. “Although as a kid, I might have been the most avid Kavanaugh Christmas devotee.” She glanced up to see his gaze was on her face even as his hands moved in the branches. “I adored Christmastime. It was just...” She shrugged sheepishly. “Magical.”

He said nothing as he continued to string on the lights, but she didn’t have the impression of being dismissed for her whimsy.

“You’re really going to miss Lincoln, aren’t you?” she asked softly after a moment. He paused in his actions and met her stare.

“Yeah,” he said. “I really am.”

Deidre admitted to herself that Nick had known her guard would be breached by the gift of the Christmas tree. She should have been alarmed by that knowledge. But it was difficult to think of him as her enemy as they sat on the couch, admiring the pretty, glowing tree they’d decorated together while snow fell outside the window. A big band rendition of “Winter Wonderland” played on the radio and the fire kept the room toasty.

Her respect for him grew as she drew him out about his work at DuBois Enterprises. Lincoln had informed her that Nick was a brilliant business leader—instinctively knowing when to strike aggressively, but also understanding when caution and restraint were required. Nick clearly considered himself a servant to the larger cause of a healthy, vibrant business.

The truth was, she was having a nicer time than she’d experienced in years spending the evening with Nick. He could potentially turn on her tomorrow. She would fight him if he tried to contest the will on the grounds that she’d coerced Lincoln. She didn’t want to run DuBois Enterprises, but she refused to have Nick sully the fact that Lincoln had believed heart and soul she was his child. Lincoln’s revised will was tangible proof of that. She couldn’t let Nick take that from her.

She wouldn’t.

Maybe she was being foolish by not fighting him tonight. Maybe she was being weak. But maybe she just really needed a nice evening with an intelligent, attractive, sexy man.

Even if that man was Nick Malone.

She asked him about the acquisition deal he’d mentioned on the first night he’d come to Harbor Town. He filled her in on the details. The owner of a media company called Vivicor, Inc., had been toying with the idea of selling to DuBois for months now. Nick liked the company’s price and earning potential and wanted to expand DuBois Enterprises’s market share in media. He’d been wooing the owner for close to a year. However, Vivicor was a family-owned company and the president was wavering. Just after Lincoln had died, Nick had received a call from the owner that he was ready to sell on the original terms.

“I’d like to strike while the iron is hot. The owner has been known to stall in the past,” Nick explained as he held up the carton of lemon chicken, offering her more. Deidre shook her head. They’d ordered Chinese and talked almost nonstop as they ate, both of them avoiding potentially volatile topics like Lincoln’s will or the genetic testing. Deidre thought Nick would pursue the topic of acquiring Vivicor, Inc., angling for her agreement to complete the deal, but to her surprise, he changed the subject.

Who knew? Deidre wondered as she watched Nick spoon the last of the lemon chicken onto his plate. Maybe Nick had needed a truce and a nice evening as much as she had.

“Did you ever do what Lincoln requested?” she asked a few minutes later as she sank back into the couch and brought her feet up next to her. “Did you ever reflect on what it was you work so hard for, day in and day out?” she clarified when he arched his brows at her. He gave her a sidelong glance as he chewed. She enjoyed observing the movement of his strong jaw.

“I’ve reflected,” he said finally, wiping his mouth with a napkin and setting his plate on the table.

“And? Any grand discoveries?”

“No. Not really,” he admitted, leaning back after he took a swig of ice water. “I was different than Linc in that way. The work has always been reason and reward enough for me. It was Linc who was worried he’d built up his empire for nothing, that it was a hollow victory. ‘What’s it all for?’ he’d ask me every once in a while.”

“Was he unhappy?” Deidre asked in a hushed tone.

He met her gaze. “No. I would say he lived a happy, fulfilled life. But everyone has a sore point. For Linc, it was that he’d never had a family with whom he could share all that he had to give.”

Deidre studied her thighs, blinking to soothe the sudden burn in her eyes. Oh, no. She really wished these tears would be over and done with.

Her breath caught when she felt Nick touch the juncture between her neck and shoulders. His long fingers combed through her hair. He didn’t speak, but she knew he’d noticed her emotional upsurge. She felt like she needed to explain.

“It’s just...it’s hard, knowing he wanted a family so much and didn’t know he had one all along.”

Didn’t know he had me.

The thought of both Linc and her having similar longings while separated by half of the world, both ignorant of each other’s existence, made grief spike through her. They’d found each other, but for such a brief time. Now he was gone forever.

She stared at the flames and muffled a sob. A hot, vivid flash of anger at her mother mingled with her sadness. Her wretchedness was so complete in that moment, she didn’t protest when she felt Nick’s arms surround her. She managed to stifle the sound of her misery, but she couldn’t disguise the tremors that racked her body. Nick didn’t comment, just absorbed her sadness, his body seeming to cushion the impact of her grief.

She realized she’d never really wept since Lincoln died. Nick cradled her waist and encouraged her to rest the back of her head on his chest. He ran his hand along her shoulder and upper arm. For several minutes, she cried silently while she stared at the fire.

Nick closed his hand over her shoulder muscle and rubbed it. She felt his heat through the tiny holes of her sweater. She held her breath. Awareness of him, of his closeness, of his hard, male body made her misery fade. His hand stilled, as if he’d recognized the alteration in her mood at the same moment she had.

She stood abruptly from the couch and grabbed a napkin from the table. She wiped off her cheeks and walked toward the mantel. How crazy could she be, going to mush like that in front of a man who doubted she was Lincoln’s daughter, who doubted her morals and her character?

“Surely Lincoln didn’t grieve that much over not having a family,” she said flatly as she leaned down toward the flames, her back to Nick. “He had you, after all.”

“I worked for him, Deidre.”

“He loved you like a son,” she insisted. “Everyone says so. He positively glowed with pride every time he spoke of you. Why can’t you admit you thought of him like a father?”

When he didn’t speak, she twisted her chin over her shoulder, feeling regretful at her outburst. Had she sounded bitter just then? She’d accused him last night of being envious of her relationship with Lincoln, but perhaps she was the one who was jealous of Nick’s lifelong association with Lincoln. She didn’t know what to think when she saw the way he studied her, his face impassive, his eyes hooded.

“I won’t admit it, because it’s not true. I never expected Lincoln to treat me as his son. I worked my ass off for him—as a stable boy, as the foreman of his ranch, as an advertising executive, as a new global unit president and finally as his CEO.”

“I didn’t mean you’d taken advantage of your relationship with him,” she said, caught off guard.

“Other people thought so, when I was younger,” he stated bluntly. “Maybe that’s why I was so intent on making sure my work spoke for itself. I never wanted to give anyone the slightest reason to suspect that I’d used Linc. My record stands on its own.”

Deidre blushed. She hadn’t realized it was such a sensitive topic for him. Of course, what he’d said made complete sense. There would always be those who thought the worst of a person’s motives.

“When I told you last night that the officers of DuBois Enterprises had been known to think Linc was foolish for putting so much trust in another human being,” Nick continued, “I was talking about myself. There was loads of backbiting and plenty of rumors about Linc’s gullibility when I first started working for him and rising in the ranks.”

She stared at him, her lips parted in amazement.

“Maybe you’re thinking it’s pretty damn hypocritical of me to sit here and say that I was accused of taking advantage of Lincoln when I was young, and then turn around and do the same to you,” he said quietly. “But it’s different, Deidre.”

“How?”

“Because I did build a record of service to Linc, his company and it’s employees. I silenced all the naysayers, many times over.”

“How am I supposed to compete with that, Nick?” she asked, frustrated.

“I’m not asking you to. All I’m asking is that you spend time with me, allow me to get to know you...form my own opinions.”

“Haven’t I been doing that tonight?”

“Yeah, you have. And I appreciate it. More than you know.”

Deidre wondered if she’d ruined their peaceful evening with her emotional outburst when he suddenly stood.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to sound so angry—”

“Don’t apologize. I’m not leaving. I just thought of something, that’s all. It arrived yesterday.” She stared at him, bewildered, when he waved at the front door. “I’ll go and get it. It’s in the car.”

Her confusion had only amplified by the time he returned a minute later, carrying an opened cardboard shipping box. Deidre hurried to finish clearing the coffee table of the remnants of their dinner, making room for him to set it down.

“What is it?” she asked a moment later when she’d returned from the kitchen, her eyes glued to the box.

“Open it,” he encouraged.

She knelt next to the table while he sat across from her on the couch. She peeled back the box flaps and peered inside, seeing dozens and dozens of black-and-white and color photos. Excitement pulsed through her. She reached for the five-by-six photo of a woman smiling at the camera, an exquisite arrangement of white hydrangeas and roses on the table before her, sunlight flooding through the window behind her.

Recognition clicked in her, rapid and absolute.

“It’s Lily DuBois,” she whispered.

“Let me see,” Nick requested gruffly.

She turned the photo. He gave a small smile.

“Yeah. That’s Lily.”

“You knew her?” Deidre whispered.

He nodded. “I knew both Lily and George, Linc’s father. George was a rancher. He owned a huge spread between Tahoe and Carson City. When they got older, Lincoln bought a house for them in South Lake, and they spent most of their time there.”

“What were they like?” Deidre asked as she withdrew another picture, this one of Lily in the arms of a large, suntanned man with silver-gray hair and a winning smile. She studied every nuance of the couple’s faces, hungry for the tiniest details. Lily and George DuBois—her grandparents.

“The two of them couldn’t have been more different, but they were perfect for each other. George was a lot like Linc, bigger than life, personable, a natural horseman, smart and methodical when it came to business. Lily was reserved. Elegant. A sweeter lady never lived. She was English, did Linc tell you that?”

Deidre nodded, now studying Nick like she had the photographs, so eager for any tiny morsel of knowledge about people and a history she’d never known.

“Lily never lost her accent. It made her seem so refined, but never standoffish. Her warmth was her hallmark. She loved flowers and used to show her roses in competitions. The one thing both Lily and George had in common was the love of the land. Lily was always in her garden, George with his horses.”

Deidre continued to dig through the photographs, peering at the faces of people she’d never known, but who somehow seemed familiar to her. There were photos of Lincoln as a young man, tall and whipcord lean, deeply tanned from his days working on his father’s ranch. She saw Lily working in her garden, always wearing a white straw hat to protect her skin from the sun.

“Here’s a picture of one of Linc’s Christmas trees,” Nick said a few minutes after he’d begun to join her in examining the photos.

Deidre came around the table and sat next to him on the couch. There was the magnificent pine tree arranged in the picture window of the great room of The Pines. Standing before it was Lincoln, perhaps at around forty, looking fit, handsome and happy. Next to him stood his mother and father. George had his arm around a tall young man, wearing jeans and a sober expression.

“That’s you,” Deidre whispered as she studied the image of a teenage Nick. He’d been very handsome and intense, even as a boy. A strange feeling went through her, seeing Nick standing there with Lincoln’s family—her family. “What were you so serious about?”

Nick frowned at the photograph, his brows forming a V shape. “Who knows? I probably was worried about getting my homework done or something,” he said dryly.

“Homework?” Deidre laughed. “You were that serious about your schoolwork? How come?”

“I think I’m about sixteen in the photo. I was trying to get a scholarship for college,” he said, shrugging.

“Wouldn’t Lincoln have helped you with college?”

“He would have. I didn’t want him to,” he said in a clipped tone that made Deidre realize she was once again treading on tender territory. He must have realized how he’d sounded because he waved his hand sheepishly. “It was a thing between Linc and me. He always wanted to give me more than I was willing to take. He would have taken over as my foster parent at any time, but I...”

“What?” Deidre prompted.

He shrugged. “I was stubborn. I resisted the idea, for some reason. Linc offered to adopt me, as well, but I told him no. I ended up making peace with the Garritsons—the family that fostered me and three other boys—until I went to college. It’s ironic, I guess, how I rebelled against foster families when I was a kid and then finally accepted a family because I didn’t want Linc to take me.”

“I don’t understand. You and Lincoln got on so well together.”

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