He left it all behind. Until now.

It’s New Year’s Eve, and for Matt Jefferies, life is perfect. The penthouse, the career—even the perfect soon-to-be-fiancée. But then Matt’s troubled past knocks on his door. And once Allie Carson says hello, everything changes.

Allie broke up with Matt years ago, when he turned “that kid from Beaker Street” into a cold, corporate city slicker. It went against what she loved about him—and the small-town life she could never leave. Now, with Matt’s estranged family facing desperate times, it’s time for him to come home. And to choose between the man Matt’s become…and the woman who never stopped loving him.

After all this time, they were here, together again.

Matt rolled onto his back, laced his fingers behind his head and stared at the sky. “This farm is the only place in Cedar Grove I like to be. Even the sky seems bluer. Do you remember the time we tried to cross the creek on that log, and you fell in?”

It wasn’t falling into the creek Allie remembered. It was the kiss that had followed after he’d fished her out.

Matt sat up, his knees dangerously close to hers.

The woodsy scent of his aftershave sent a shiver through her body, and she looked away from his warm gaze, aware that he was recalling the kiss, as well. When he leaned toward her, she wanted him to kiss her again. But he was marrying Jessica.

A current she couldn’t ignore charged the air between them, pulling her toward Matt. He cupped her face in his hands and hesitantly kissed her, his lips tender. Seconds passed, and she began to speak.

He put his finger on her lips. “Shh.”

This time there was no hesitation as he claimed her mouth. She slipped her arms around him and gave in to the moment, losing herself to the passion she’d locked away for so long.

He’s going to marry someone else.

Allie stopped. She couldn’t do this.

She couldn’t let him break her heart again….

Dear Reader,

I am so excited you have chosen Matthew’s Choice. Have you ever wanted something so much that you would do almost anything to get it? That describes Matthew Jefferies. Growing up on the wrong side of the small Mississippi town of Cedar Grove instilled a desire in Matthew to be rich and successful. But he believes he has to change who he is to attain that goal. After college, he cuts ties with his family and leaves his fiancée, Allie, behind to seek his fortune. Now, ten years later, he’s well on his way. A high-paying job, an expensive car, a fancy apartment and an engagement to the woman of his dreams, who happens to be the boss’s daughter—he’s on top of the world.

When he returns to Cedar Grove to care for his sister’s son after she becomes critically ill, Matthew is thrown together with his ex-fiancée, and a struggle for his heart ensues. Allie is his past and Jessica is his future, and both have a strong hold on him.

In this book I’ve tried to show Matthew’s struggle as he learns what true success is. I hope you enjoy his journey and feel that he makes the right choice.

Patricia Bradley

Matthew’s Choice
Patricia Bradley

www.millsandboon.co.uk

PATRICIA BRADLEY

lives in north Mississippi with her rescue cat, Suzy. She presents workshops on healthy relationships and writing. But her heart is tuned to writing stories of love and hope with happily-ever-after endings. When she’s not writing or presenting workshops, she likes to throw mud on a wheel and see what happens. She loves to connect with readers on Facebook.

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In memory of my mother, Frances Bradley

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

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 Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

“NOAH, COME DANCE with me.”

His mom’s voice floated like a feather from the tiny living room to the equally tiny kitchen, where Noah searched the bare pantry for something to eat.

“Not now, Mom.” Bleach from the big pan on the stove made his eyes water. He had to remember to take his socks and stuff out before he went to bed.

“Noah! Get in here this instant!”

His stomach twisted. He closed the pantry door and trudged into the living room, where his mom waltzed around the room to music playing on a CD player, her skinny arms crooked as if she were being held. She had that “look” he’d come to dread. She barely missed the small cedar tree with its paper ornaments and cardboard star on top. Dry needles lay scattered on the tile floor. He’d have to drag it to the street tomorrow. New Year’s Day. His shoulders dropped. Then school would start back again next week.

His mom stopped when she spied him. “There’s my boy. C’mere. You’ll be a teenager before I know it, and you need to know how to dance. Those girls are gonna be knockin’ our door down.”

“Aw, Mom, do I have to? I won’t even be ten until next month.”

“No-ah...”

He sighed and let her lead him around the room as she sang to the music.

“Did you know I could’ve been a famous singer?”

“Yeah, you told me.” Over and over she’d told him that a big producer in Nashville had wanted to sign her, but she’d gotten sick. And he knew what kind of sick. She twirled and then guided him around the room again. At least they didn’t have to worry about bumping into any furniture. Unless a worn-out couch and wooden crates counted.

“You’re gonna be a lady-killer, you know.” She chucked him under the chin.

Finally the waltz ended, and she released him.

“I’m gonna fix you some supper now,” she said.

He frowned. “I don’t think we have anything. Maybe I could go next door to Mrs. Adams. She said anytime we didn’t have anything to eat she’d—”

His mother shook him. “Don’t you dare go beggin’ for food. We don’t ask anyone for anything. And you’d better not forget that.”

Noah broke free and stumbled back.

She caught him and dropped to her knees. “Oh, Noah! I’m so sorry.”

He wrapped his arms around her, her bony shoulders sharp against his hands. “It’s okay, Mom. I think I saw a package of ramen noodles. I’ll go fix ’em. Why don’t you rest on the couch?” Her eyes searched his, and he nodded, willing her to do it. “Okay? I’ll bring you a bowl.”

She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “You’re a good boy. You deserve so much better than me.”

“I love you, Mom.”

“I don’t know why.”

He stood still as she steadied herself and stood, and then he helped her to the couch. “I’ll be right back.”

Her eyes drooped and she murmured something he couldn’t understand. He waited a few minutes longer, until he was certain she was asleep. In the kitchen, he turned off the stove. When he returned he’d get his clothes out of the pan and hang them up to dry. Noah shrugged on his thin jacket and eased out the back door. He knew a place to get food without asking for it.

Noah slipped through the dark streets, shivering in the chilly air. At least it wasn’t freezing. It’d been unusually warm for December in Mississippi. Everyone in Cedar Grove said so. It hadn’t seemed like Christmas at all.

He passed the jewelry store where he and his mom had stood Christmas Day, picking out gifts they would give each other if they had the money. She’d picked out a watch for him—he didn’t even know jewelry stores had watches for kids. He’d picked out a pearl necklace, and she’d almost cried. It’d made her sad to leave the ones her mom had given her at Joe’s Pawn Shop last month. But the rent had to be paid, she’d said. He didn’t want to think about this month.

Loud music boomed to the sound of an electric guitar at the bar on the corner, and he crossed to the other side, keeping in the shadows. Two blocks later, the First State Bank sign blinked the time and temperature. Mike’s Café was across the street, dark and shuttered. He groaned. A Closed sign hung on the door.

It’s New Year’s Eve, dummy. The owner had probably left a long time ago, and any food he threw away would be gone already. Noah wasn’t the only one who knew about the food the man threw away. Perfectly good food. He didn’t understand why the guy didn’t just use it the next day. He went behind the building just as the back door scraped open and a man exited with two black bags in his hands.

Noah’s knees almost buckled with relief. He wasn’t too late. The man tossed the bigger bag in the Dumpster then looked straight toward where Noah stood in the shadows. Noah tried to make himself smaller, and it must’ve worked. The man turned back to the bag and set it on a box before returning inside the building.

Noah waited for fifteen minutes, counting the time on the bank sign, shivering in the chilly air. Darting from the shadows, he ran to the box, grabbed the bag and took off. Two blocks later, he leaned against a brick building, panting for breath. As soon as he could breathe again, he untied the bag.

Wow! He’d expected bread or maybe cookies, but not a bag with sliced meat. He pulled out a slice. Just one, and he’d take the rest of it to his mom.

Ham. He loved ham and couldn’t resist another slice. Noah broke off a chunk of bread and crammed it in his mouth, and then he closed the bag. Wait until Mom saw this.

When he reached his house, Noah entered by the back door and ran to the living room. “Mom! Look what I found.”

She didn’t respond, and Noah shook her. Why was she so pale? “Wake up, Mom.”

A throat cleared behind him. “So this is where you live.”

Noah whirled around, and his mouth dropped.

A guy in a cop’s uniform stood in the doorway.

“My mom. You gotta help her.”

* * *

MATTHEW JEFFERIES BUZZED away the five-o’clock shadow then splashed Dior aftershave on his face. Where was Clint with his tuxedo? Matt had exactly one hour to get dressed and pick up his soon-to-be fiancée, and his friend hadn’t made it to Matt’s apartment with his tux. If he were late, Jessica would be furious.

His feet tangled with the black towel he’d dropped on the floor, tossing him off balance until he snagged the sink rim and righted himself. Matt snatched the towel and slipped it back over the chrome bar. Jessica had picked the towel and the other black accessories for his bathroom to go with the black-and-white tile. She’d die if she discovered he’d actually used the towel. They’re only for looks, Matthew. When it came to decorating, or hosting parties for that matter, Jessica had no equal. Not that she wouldn’t be perfect without those talents. They’d make a great couple, and thirty was the perfect age to get married.

At his dresser, he rummaged through an ebony case for the platinum-and-black onyx cuff links she’d given him for Christmas. His gaze caught a small velvet ring box, and he flipped it open, revealing a two-carat diamond engagement ring. The seven square-cut diamonds along the shank were duplicated in the wedding band.

His mother’s voice, weak from the cancer’s toll on her body, echoed through the recesses of his mind. These rings were your Grandmother Rae’s, and they’re all I have to leave you. Choose well. Find someone worthy to wear them. Mom would have liked Jessica.

Tonight he would ask her father for Jessica’s hand in marriage, and tomorrow morning, after he wowed her with his famous eggs Benedict, he’d ask her to marry him. Matt held the solitaire up to the light, and it shimmered like white fire. Jessica would be impressed.

Matt dialed Clint’s number once again. “Come on, answer.” Voice mail picked up, and he pressed End then tapped his fingers against his leg. When Clint got here, he was going to kill him. He never should’ve trusted his friend to get his tux here on time and wouldn’t have if J. Phillip Bradford hadn’t requested an audience an hour before the cleaners closed.

“Probably forgot to charge his phone,” he muttered and took his dress shoes from the closet. Five minutes later, after he’d put the finishing touches to a shoeshine that a soldier would be proud of, his phone rang and he grabbed it. It better be Clint telling him he was parking.

He dropped his head, wanting to bang it on the wall. J. Phillip Bradford again. Matt shook off his frustration and answered. “Yes, sir, Mr. Bradford, what can I do for you?”

Bradford wasted no time on pleasantries. “I need you to drop by tomorrow at nine to go over page five of your proposal.”

“Sir? Tomorrow’s New Year’s Day. I—”

“All the more reason to work—start the New Year off right. You do know Valentine’s is only six weeks away, and while I like your proposal over the other five, if you expect to win the contract Wednesday, I need clarification on page five.”

Matt smothered the sigh trying to get past his lips. It’d been bad enough that he’d had to drop everything today and rush over to Bradford’s office, now he had to change his breakfast plans with Jessica tomorrow. But that was his lot as director of food and beverage for the Winthrop Corporation. The title was a catch-all for everything from securing business to overseeing the chef. Not to mention the budget. With a company that rivaled any of the big high-end chains, it was a significant job.

Matt wanted that contract for the corporation, even though working with J. Phillip would be a royal pain. The old man fired the original event planner after they’d butted heads over the ballroom, the menu and the decorations. If Phillip awarded Matt the contract, he had six weeks to pull the event together. He could do it—he could do anything that helped him climb the Winthrop corporate ladder.

“Yes, sir. I’ll be there at nine sharp.”

Bradford broke the connection without ceremony, leaving Matt holding a dead cell phone. He picked up his other shoe, attacking it with a vengeance. Getting the Valentine’s Day contract was only the start. J. Phillip Bradford headed the Bradford Foundation, which was made up of three nonprofits, and each one hosted an extravagant fund-raiser every year. He would convince the old curmudgeon that the Winthrop Hotel was the perfect location for each, and at Matt’s price.

The doorbell chimed, and he fumbled the shoe. That had to be Clint. Shrugging out of the shirt he’d worn to work this morning, he rushed to the door, jerking it open. “Do you know what time it is?”

His breath caught at the shock of seeing Allie Carson, a gray garment bag slung over her shoulder. She blinked and stepped back from the door. The bag did nothing to detract from the way the slinky black gown hugged her curves. Or the way her blond hair fell softly around her shoulders. “A-Allie? Where’s Clint?”

She recovered, rolling her eyes. “Having his car towed from I-240. I told my brother six months ago he needed a new car. May I come in? Or do you want me to just hand you the tux and be on my way?”

“No, no, come in.” He stepped back, catching the light scent of something sweet and exotic as she glided past him. Echoes of late-night dates and study sessions in college ricocheted across his mind. How long had it been since he’d seen her?

“Six years, eight months and twenty-one days,” she said.

Almost seven years? He swallowed. “How did—”

Her lopsided grin teased him. “The question was written all over your face. What I want to know is why in the world you trusted Clint with your tux if you needed it tonight? My brother was late the day he was born.”

Allie chuckled, her laugh throaty, husky, just the way he remembered it. Her blue eyes danced that same mischievous two-step they always had, then flitted from his face to his feet and back. Suddenly conscious of being shirtless, he grabbed the bag and held it in front of him.

“Trust me, he was a last resort.” He didn’t want to tell her Clint was the only friend he had in Memphis, or that he was too busy to get together with him that often. “My fault anyway for waiting until today to pick it up.” Matt shifted his weight. That black dress fit Allie like a glove. She’d lost at least twenty pounds since college. Yeah, she definitely looked good, but she reminded him of everything he’d left behind. “You would’ve thought in all that time we would’ve run in to each other.”

Allie gave him that throaty laugh again. “Well, I rarely come to Memphis, and you never come to Cedar Grove.”

She handed him a smaller bag he hadn’t noticed. “Clint said something about me staying long enough to do your tie, or do you think you can manage it?”

She knew he couldn’t. Clint knew he couldn’t. As far back as when Matt had shared an apartment with Clint, his best friend always made sure Matt’s bow tie was correctly knotted for the once-a-year formal affairs he attended. He grabbed the smaller bag, as well.

“I think I can handle it,” Matt mumbled and headed to his bedroom. “Be out in a minute.”

“Clint told me not to leave until you were properly attired,” she called after him.

After he’d changed into the pants and a pleated tuxedo shirt, he stuck his head out the door. “Sodas are in the fridge.”

“I’m good.”

He left the door open and adjusted the cummerbund, making sure the pleats faced up. “What brings you to Memphis?”

“I came over for Christmas and Clint talked me into staying for this party he’s going to.” Her voice floated through the doorway. “I think they have a ‘friend’ they want to introduce.”

So that’s why she was all dolled up. He glanced down at the ring box, still open. Matt snapped the lid shut. Once he’d thought Allie would be the one wearing his grandmother’s rings. Shrugging the thought off, he slid the tie around his neck, his fingers fumbling with the silk. After a few minutes, he gave up and grabbed his shoes. He’d give the tie one more shot after he donned his Oxfords.

Or maybe he’d search online for instructions first. Why hadn’t he thought of that before? While his laptop booted up, he slipped on his shoes then typed his search words into Google. Oh, good...a video. Matt clicked on the link and leaned over the computer, studying the fat guy meticulously detailing how to knot a bow tie. He paused the video and draped the tie around his neck, making sure one side hung lower than the other.

What was it he said to do next? He clicked Play and stared hard at the computer screen. Do what? Matt backed the video up and played it again. No doubt about it, the guy was talking Greek. He yanked the tie off and headed for his living room.

“I give up! Would you please do this stupid—”

The room was empty. His heart sank. She had to still be here—somebody had to help him. Movement on the balcony caught his eye. He tapped on the sliding door, and when she turned, he dangled the tie. “Help?” he mouthed.

She slid the door open, shivering as she came back into the room. “Sorry, I just had to get some fresh air. It’s chilly out there, but a beautiful night.”

Then she took the tie without even an I-told-you-so glance and smoothed it out before handing it back to him. “Slip it around your neck.”

He did as he was instructed. “Thanks for doing this.”

“No prob...that’s what friends are for. Now, be still.”

He tried not to move, acutely aware of how close she stood to him. Maybe he should’ve tried harder to tie it. He cleared his throat. “You haven’t said anything about the apartment. Do you like it?”

* * *

ALLIE HAD DREADED that question from the minute she’d stepped into the place. She supposed some people like the minimalist look—sparse white walls, chrome and glass tables and a thin, hard sofa that no doubt cost a mint. The room reminded her of a spread in an architectural magazine. And it fit Matthew to a T.

“It’s...” Cold and sterile were the only words that came to mind. Just tell him what he wants to hear. Her gaze locked on the one dash of color, an abstract painting with a flowing crimson line in the center. “It’s nice. I really like the painting. Did your girlfriend pick it out?” Allie nodded toward the silver frame that held a photo of Matt with his arms around a willowy redhead.

“It’s actually her painting, and she put all of this together.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Her name is Jessica Winthrop, and she likes to paint, like you. We...we’re kind of talking about getting married.” He shook his head. “No, we’re not just talking, we’re making plans. She loves big-city living.”

Implying Allie didn’t. But it hadn’t been the move to the big city she’d fought. She forced a thousand-watt smile to her lips. “I’m glad for you.”

Liar, liar, pants on fire. She’d known one day he’d get married, and it wouldn’t be to her, but did he have to be the one to tell her? If she hadn’t come to Memphis over the holidays, hadn’t agreed to deliver Matt’s tux, she would’ve found out through the grapevine, which would’ve been bad enough.

And did he have to find someone who was an artist? She glanced at the painting again. Especially one so talented. She stifled a sigh. Focus on the task at hand. Get the tie on his neck and get out of here. Matt shifted his weight as she made a half knot and pulled it against his collar. “Be still so I can get this tied.”

A pregnant pause filled the room as Allie forced her fingers through the mechanics of knotting the tie. Finally she had the black silk material transformed into a presentable bow, and his collar turned back down. The pause grew heavier. “I saw your sister just before the Christmas break,” she said, more to fill the dead air than to pass information.

“What? Where?”

“At school. I double as the reading teacher and elementary school counselor. Her son has been having problems in the classroom.”

“Son?” His brow wrinkled into a frown. “What are you talking about?”

“When is the last time you saw Mariah?”

“Ten years ago, when Mother died.” He shrugged. “You were there—she was wasted.”

She definitely remembered Matt’s older sister that day. Allie had held Mariah’s head while she threw up in the commode. But now she understood his confusion—Mariah hadn’t told Matt she was pregnant. The son born to her was in Allie’s third-grade reading class and a frequent visitor to her counselor’s room. “And you haven’t talked to her since?”

“Sometimes. She calls every year or so, and for a while I have a number to reach her on, then it gets disconnected or she changes phones. But she never said anything about a kid.” His cell phone dinged. Matt checked it and winced.

“Your girlfriend?”

He nodded. “Jessica has decided she wants to drive, and she’ll be here in five minutes. Look, could I call you tomorrow to talk about my sister? Maybe we could get together for coffee.”

No way. Ending the year with a visit to Matt Jefferies was one thing. Starting the New Year off having coffee with the only man she’d ever loved and couldn’t have just was not happening. “I’m sorry. I have to go back to Cedar Grove tomorrow. Why don’t you simply call Mariah?”

“Why? So she can lie to me again? Besides, the number I have has been disconnected. Where are my sister and the boy living?”

“His name is Noah.” Allie dropped her gaze. “She works as a waitress at Loco Jim’s.”

Matt waited.

“And they live in a little house on Beaker Street.”

His shoulders sagged. “That’s next to the projects. Why didn’t she tell me? She could’ve stayed in Mom’s house. At least it would’ve been safer.”

“Last time I passed by your mom’s house, someone was living there.”

“I would have helped her find something better than that end of Beaker Street.”

Allie shook her head. “You don’t have a clue, do you? She would never ask you for anything.”

“What do you mean? Why not?”

“Really?” She grabbed her silk purse. “Look, I don’t think you want me here when your girlfriend arrives, so I’d better go.”

At the door, Allie turned around. “I know you’re mad at Mariah for running off with that Connors kid, and maybe she doesn’t live up to your expectations, but she and Noah need you. Call her tomorrow. Or even better, go back to Cedar Grove and see her, meet Noah.”

From the set of his jaw, she knew that wasn’t happening. “At least call her.”

“Wait,” he said. “Thanks for helping me.”

* * *

THE ELEVATOR DOORS CLOSED, and Allie slumped against the stainless-steel wall as the elevator descended from the penthouse floor to the parking garage. What had possessed her to let Clint talk her into delivering the tux? Thoughts of wowing Matt with her new, slim body? Ha! He hadn’t even noticed.

No doubt about it, Matt Jefferies had succeeded in putting his past behind him. Evidently he’d made his dreams come true. Money, great job, great apartment and definitely way out of her league.

And with that success, he needed a corporate wife. From the looks of that photo, he’d found one in Jessica. Who liked big-city living. Who would probably laugh at Allie’s job in the school system in tiny Cedar Grove. Allie squared her shoulders as the elevator stopped on the ground floor. Why should she even care what this fiancée thought?

Matt was getting married. She’d make it a point to avoid him in the future. No need in getting her heartbeat up again. Besides, she had a party to get to, one where maybe her Prince Charming waited. Or not. With her luck, Clint had fixed her up with one of the old geezers living at the retirement home where his girlfriend worked. The doors opened and she stepped out, almost colliding with a model-thin woman in a flaming red gown that was definitely not off-the-rack.

Allie jerked up short. “Oh! I’m sorry.”

The woman shook her head, her diamond teardrop earrings shimmering with the movement. “Oh, no, it was my fault entirely.”

Whoever said women with red hair shouldn’t wear red had never seen the girl in Matt’s photo. She sighed as the elevator doors closed. Oh, yeah. Matt was definitely out of Allie’s league.

As Allie walked to her car, her cell beeped, and she snagged the phone from the black satin clutch. Clint. Where are you?

Instead of texting, she speed-dialed her brother’s number. “I’m on my way,” she said when he answered.

“Well, we’re waiting on you at the hotel, and your date is here.”

Oh, joy. “I’m not the one who sent me over here, mister. And how did you get there so quick? Last I saw of you, the tow truck was pulling your car off I-240.”

“My date picked me up.”

“Oh. Well, what about my date? Who is this mystery man, anyway?”

“It wouldn’t be a mystery if I told you. Now, get a move on.”

“I need an address.”

“It’s on Main Street at the Winthrop. Put the hotel in your GPS, and when you get here, ask at the desk for the Savannah Room and tell them Jessica Winthrop invited you.”

Clint lost her at the Winthrop. Double joy. Her brother never told Allie she was attending a party hosted by Matt’s girlfriend. Now she’d see her ex-boyfriend twice on New Year’s Eve. Could it get any better?

Twenty-five minutes later, she’d managed to get lost, not once, but twice. When she finally found the Savannah Room, she spied Clint pacing back and forth outside the door, all six feet of him.

He rubbed his jaw. “Where have you been? I was worried sick that you’d had an accident...or worse.”

“I’m sorry, I got turned around.” She glanced left, then right. “Where’s your girlfriend?”

Clint winced. “She had to leave right after I talked with you. An emergency at the assisted living where she works. Said she might make it later. For a while, I thought you both were dumping me.”

Allie linked her arm in his, patting it. “I’m here now, so let’s go meet this guy you’ve managed to snooker.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” Clint winked at her. “Your date twisted my arm to finagle an evening with you.”

Allie tilted her head toward him. “What? Who is this person?”

“See for yourself. Voilà.” He extended his hand, palm out.

She turned. “Peter?”

What was he doing here?

CHAPTER TWO

MATT SLIPPED INTO his jacket on the way to answer the doorbell again. He paused to look in the mirror and straighten his tie before sweeping the door open with a bow. “Good evening, madame.”

Jessica breezed through the doorway, a sensual aroma swirling in her wake. With her coppery hair pinned up, the diamond earrings she wore dangled against her bare neck. His gaze traveled the length of the red dress that fit perfectly. He’d never seen this one before. “Wow! You look gorgeous. I’ll have to fight the single men off tonight.”

For half a second, he considered proposing right then and there. But no, he wanted to do it right and speak with her father first.

She slipped her left leg through the slit. “So you like it?”

“Hmmm,” he said and pulled her to him.

Jessica pressed her lips against Matt’s, making his toes curl inside his Oxfords. When they parted he trailed his finger along her jaw. “So why didn’t you let me pick you up like we planned?”

“I forgot to get my mail from the box, and when I ran down to get it, there was a young mother with her baby outside the door. Found out she was waiting for a cab to come by.” The green flecks in her hazel eyes darkened. “It’s New Year’s Eve. She probably would have still been waiting if I hadn’t offered to give her a ride. After I found her destination was near your apartment, I went to plan B. And here I am.”

Knowing Jessica, it wouldn’t have mattered if the young woman needed to go clear across town.

“Who was your blond visitor?”

He blanked for a second. “Visitor?”

“The elevator. While I was waiting for it, I noticed someone came down from this floor. Female, blond, black dress? Hello?”

“Oh, that was Clint’s sister, delivering my tux.”

She glanced toward the door. “That was Clint’s sister? She looks nothing like the girl in your photo album.”

“She, um, lost a little weight.”

“That’s putting it mildly. Do you suppose she’ll be at the party with Clint?”

“Clint’s coming to the party?” Oh, wait, Clint had mentioned a party. Matt just didn’t realize it was this party. His mind had been on Bradford.

“You never listen to me.” Jessica punched him lightly on the shoulder. She glanced at the mirror and tucked a copper curl that had escaped the clasp back into place. “I told you last week I invited him, told him to bring guests if he wanted to. The more the merrier. Is my hair spray still here? This twig is driving me crazy.”

“Top shelf in the bathroom.” Thank goodness he’d rehung the towel.

“Oh, good.” She held up her finger. “Won’t take me but a sec.”

Why hadn’t Allie mentioned she’d be at the party? Why hadn’t Clint, for that matter? Matt’s stomach gulped at the thought of seeing Allie again. He’d seen the disapproval in her eyes when Mariah’s name came up. And the kid...what was his name? Noah. Just what did Allie expect him to do? Take the two of them in? He pressed his lips together. Mariah had made her choices long ago, and he’d tried to help her then. He wasn’t sure bailing her out now was the right answer. Matt checked his own hair in the mirror and frowned. Maybe a squirt of that hair spray would help his cowlick. He started into his bedroom and braked at the door as his heart crashed against his chest. He’d forgotten to put away his grandmother’s rings, and Jessica had found them. She stood with her back to him, holding them up to the light, and once more he was tempted. No. He had it all planned for tomorrow. He stepped back into the living room and cleared his throat. “Are you finished? I need to get in there.”

“Coming,” Jessica answered.

“Oh, and by the way,” Matt called, “Phillip Bradford wants to meet with me tomorrow morning at nine. Shouldn’t take long. What do you say I pick you up at eleven?”

“You hadn’t planned anything earlier, had you? I won’t be up until ten at the earliest.”

Check mark. That problem solved itself. A minute later she hurried back into the room. He examined her face, but it didn’t give him a single clue as to how she felt about the rings.

“I forgot to tell you...Daddy wants us there early.” She tapped her watch. “Like five minutes ago.”

“And you’re just now telling me?” He shook his head. “Let me put my cuff links in, and we’ll go.”

In the bedroom, he glanced at the ring box and smiled. Jessica wasn’t giving anything away. The box was closed, and exactly where he’d left it. Now if he could just corner Mr. Winthrop before his nerves got the best of him.

What if Winthrop thought Matt was crazy, asking for Jessica’s hand? Or he thought it was too old-fashioned. Matt hadn’t considered that. He fumbled with the cuff link as the stud hung in the material. Winthrop seemed to like him, but what if he’d misread her father? No, Winthrop liked him. Matt manhandled the stud through the buttonholes and straightened the cuffs.

Tonight he’d ask the father, tomorrow the daughter.

* * *

WHEN THEY ARRIVED, the party in the Savannah Room rocked the walls. Glittering gold letters proclaimed Happy New Year from the ceiling as music flowed from the string ensemble, providing the backdrop for dancing or mingling. Already the party was a success. Before Matt had even had time to mix with the crowd, Mr. Winthrop pulled him aside.

“Matthew. I’d like to speak privately with you. This way.”

Matt followed the older man to a side room, feeling much like he did as a kid when his dad led him to the woodshed. Only expensive walnut paneling lined this woodshed, along with carpet deep enough to sink his feet into.

“Cigar?” Winthrop picked one then offered Matt the box

An Ashton Cabinet. He hesitated. What if Winthrop expected him to light up? The thought almost made him green. But offending the man would be worse, and he took one from the middle.

“The Ashton Cabinet is a mild but subtly complex cigar,” Winthrop said as he clipped the end off and handed Matt the cutter. “I think you will enjoy it.”

Matt swallowed and copied the older man’s actions, then waited as Winthrop lit his cigar. Oh, cool. A lighter with a double flame.

Winthrop rotated the cigar under the fire. “The secret, Matt, is to toast the end, not burn it.” He puffed on the fat roll of tobacco then blew on the end.

Once again, Matt copied Winthrop. On his third puff, queasiness rolled in his stomach, and he clamped his mouth shut. It was awfully hot in the room, and he adjusted his collar. What did Winthrop just say? “Sir? I didn’t quite catch that.”

Winthrop pointed to a pair of wingback chairs and a small table in the corner. “I asked if you’d like to sit.”

Thank goodness. After they were seated, a heavy silence surrounded them. Winthrop puffed his cigar while Matt rolled his in his fingers. “I guess you can tell I’m not much of a cigar connoisseur.”

“So I see.”

Matt cleared his throat. “Actually, sir, I’d like to talk with you about your daughter.”

Winthrop puffed his stogie once more. He blew the smoke toward the ceiling, and a series of small O’s floated above his head. “That’s why I brought you in here. How long have you been with the Winthrop Corporation, Matt?”

He blinked. “Seven years, sir. Right out of college.”

“If I remember correctly, you started on the front desk, and now you’re director of food and beverages. I understand you’ve gone after the J. Phillip Bradford account. You’re ambitious. I like that.” He fixed a hard stare on Matt. “I want that contract, even if we have to lose money on the Valentine’s Day banquet.”

Lose money? Matt adjusted his collar. “I don’t understand.”

“Do you know how many years I’ve tried to get Bradford’s accounts? Did you know he doesn’t always take the lowest bid? I know. I’ve had the lowest bid.” Winthrop rubbed his jaw with his thumb. “No, he weighs the services offered against the cost. Whoever comes up with what he’s looking for, wins. I’ve never been able to figure out exactly what he wants. I hope you’re up to the challenge.”

Great. Nothing like more pressure. “You can quit worrying, sir. I will get Bradford’s business, starting with the Valentine’s Day banquet.” He spoke the words with more conviction than he felt.

Winthrop stared at the end of his cigar. After a long minute he shifted his gaze back to Matt and seemed to measure him. Matt sat a little straighter and waited.

“Matthew, how do you feel about family?”

“Sir?”

“I’ve never heard you discuss your family. And naturally, as I watch this growing relationship you have with my daughter, I want to know a little more about you beyond your business side. Family is very important, don’t you agree?”

“Yes, sir. Unfortunately, the only family I have is my sister and her son.” What would Winthrop say if he knew Matt had never met the boy? Maybe after he closed the deal with J. Phillip Bradford, he’d take a day off and drive to Cedar Grove and look them up. “We haven’t been close in some time. She married and moved away.”

“Perhaps you could bring them to dinner some night.”

Matt’s palms sweated. Mariah had been stoned at his mother’s funeral, and he doubted she’d cleaned up her act. “Yes, sir.”

“Good.” Winthrop wafted O’s toward the ceiling again, then leveled his gaze at Matt. “Just so you know, my daughter is very precious to me. She’s my only child, and I’ll admit, more than a little spoiled. I even have in mind buying the house next door for her and her future husband.”

Matt swallowed. If Jessica agreed to marry him, he was not living next door to the Winthrops. Even if it was a mansion. But that discussion could wait until another night.

Her father stared at the white ash on the end of his cigar then stubbed the cigar in an ashtray. “Matthew, if you in any way hurt Jessica, I—”

“I can assure you, Mr. Winthrop, I will not hurt your daughter. With your blessing, and if she’ll have me, I want to marry her.”

* * *

ALLIE CAUGHT HER breath as Peter Elliott walked toward them, his light blue eyes fixed on her. He’d joked about them going out last week, but she hadn’t a clue he was serious. With his blond good looks, the broad-shouldered director of social services in Cedar Grove could date any number of women.

“You could’ve told me,” she muttered.

Clint laughed. “And have you say no?”

Not necessarily. But probably. Since the fiasco with Matt, she’d been reluctant to risk her heart again. Besides, she and Peter had been buddies since grade school, and she’d simply never thought of him in a romantic way. Maybe it was time to rethink their relationship.

Peter gave a slight bow when he reached them and took her hand. “I hope you don’t mind that I invited myself to your New Year’s Eve celebration.”

“Mind?” She shook her head. “Just a little surprised.”

Clint touched her arm. “I’m going to our table, over there in the corner.”

She followed his gaze to an empty table just below a huge TV that played images of New Year’s Eve celebrations from all over the world. Allie glanced around the room, counting ten TVs interspersed around the gold and silver streamers that hung from the ceiling.

“May I have this dance?” Peter said.

She hadn’t even heard the music and glanced toward the front of the room, where a string ensemble played “Moonlight Serenade.” Dancing seemed preferable to making small talk at the table. “As long as you don’t step on my toes, I’ll try not to step on yours.”

“I’m sure you won’t.” Peter held his hand out.

Allie wrinkled her nose at him. “You haven’t seen me dance.”

She accepted his hand and followed him to the dance floor, where he took her lightly in his arms. It never entered her mind that he might actually trample her feet. No, it would be the other way around. Peter Elliott came from old money in Cedar Grove, and his social graces were impeccable, as were his clothes. The black tux had high quality written all over it, and she’d bet he even tied his own bow tie. The memory of Matt holding his out to her brought a quick smile to her lips.

“Did I say something funny?”

An oops shivered down her spine, and she looked up into his questioning blue eyes.

“No...it was something that happened earlier tonight.”

Peter tightened his hold on her. “I’m sure Matthew Jefferies did any number of things that were amusing. I couldn’t believe it when your brother told me he and Jessica Winthrop were an item.” He leaned her back. “Weren’t you sweet on him once?”

“Once.” She almost stumbled, then concentrated on following Peter as he whirled her around. When the music ended, the ensemble slipped into a tango, and she shook her head at the invitation written on his face. “I think I’ll sit this one out.”

She allowed Peter to lead her through the crowd to their table, where Clint sat alone. Hopefully, with this many people at the party, she’d be able to avoid Matt and his girlfriend. Correction, make that his almost-fiancée. At the table, Peter offered to get her something to drink.

“Lime water,” she said. After he left, she turned on her brother. “Just how did this date come about? And why didn’t you tell me?”

“Last question first—I can count on one hand the number of men you’ve dated since you and Matt broke up. I figured you’d say no and so did Peter, so we decided not to tell you.”

“Why were you even talking to him?”

“Last week a sixteen-year-old girl from Cedar Grove showed up at my Boys and Girls Club. One of my older girls had dragged her there after finding her living in her car. Since Peter is head of social services in Cedar Grove, I called him so he could notify the parents and ended up inviting him to the party—I knew Jessica wouldn’t mind if I brought a few extra people.”

Allie traced the fleur-de-lis pattern on the linen tablecloth. “How...do you like Jessica?”

“She’s great. You’d like her if you met her. She volunteers at the club, teaching etiquette and art—the kids all love her.”

Allie swallowed the lump that suddenly clogged her throat. She licked her lips. Good. Matt had someone worthy of him.

“Your drink, ma’am.” Peter set down a crystal water glass with a wedge of lime adorning the rim.

At eleven on all the screens around the room, the ball dropped in New York City and confetti rained from an overhead vent as a rousing cheer went up. The evening was flying by. And without a glimpse of Matt.

“So, you forgive me for going behind your back to get a date with you?” Peter brushed confetti from her shoulder.

Allie tilted her head. “Why me?”

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

“About—?”

“Allie, you’re a beautiful woman. I’m surprised you’re still single. When Clint called and mentioned the party, I jumped on it. At least I’d have one night to convince you to date me.”

His confession stunned her into silence. Before she could recover, he touched his chest, frowning.

“It’s my cell, it must be important given how late it is. Excuse me,” he said and turned toward the wall as he fished his phone from inside his tux. “Elliott speaking.”

He fell silent, listening to whomever was on the other end. Allie turned her gaze to the dance floor, not wanting to eavesdrop. Even so, she couldn’t help overhearing his end of the conversation.

“I see.” Silence followed again. “No, you did right by calling. Take the boy to the shelter, and I’ll look into the matter in the morning.”

He touched her arm. “I’m so sorry for the interruption.”

“Don’t worry about it. And I couldn’t help overhearing. Trouble?”

“The usual. An overdose, with a nine-year-old child involved. Apparently there is no family for the child to stay with. Thank goodness for the shelter.”

Chill bumps raced over her body. Nine-year-old. The age of her third-grade readers. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Dance with me again.”

She cocked her head. The band had fired up the old Johnny Mathis song “Chances Are.” She could do that.

On the dance floor, Peter held her lightly, both of them moving to the music. Once she scuffed against his shoe. “Sorry.”

She focused on recapturing her rhythm as he leaned closer. “Have breakfast with me in the morning.”

Allie almost stumbled. “I...need to get back to Cedar Grove. School starts Tuesday, and I have a lot to do.”

“You would turn down the person who expedited your home study so you could become a foster parent?”

Peter had been responsible for her application being fast-tracked?

“That is blackmail,” she said as the song ended, and they walked back to their table.

“Just joking. The paperwork should be completed next week.”

They both turned as Clint called to them. “Look who I found!”

Matt and the girl in the photo trailed Clint.

“Matt...” Allie shifted her gaze to the girl who smiled at her. “And you must be Jessica.”

Her smile faded. “Have we met?”

“Earlier tonight, at the elevator in Matt’s building.”

Recognition flashed in her hazel eyes. “Ohh...”

Clint spoke up. “Jessica, this is my sister, Allie Carson and her date, Peter Elliott.” He punched Matt. “You remember Peter, don’t you?”

“Oh, yeah. Peter would be hard to forget.”

Whatever was wrong with Matt? He looked like he had indigestion.

“Clint mentioned you’d returned to Cedar Grove,” Matt said. “Something about working for the state?”

Peter’s lips pressed together. “I’m director of social services. Clint keeps me informed as well—he says you’re doing quite well. In sales of some sort?”

“You could call it that. I put together this little soiree. In fact, there are a couple of details I need to attend to.” He nodded then looped his arm through Jessica’s. “Come with me?”

Jessica turned toward her and smiled. “Happy New Year, in case I don’t see you all later.”

“Yes...” Matt glanced around, and his eyes settled on Allie. “Happy New Year.”

“You, too,” Allie said.

As they walked away, Peter raised his eyebrows. “Another dance?”

She lifted her gaze, and her breath quickened at the warm twinkle in his blue eyes. “You are a glutton for punishment, but yes, that would be nice.”

* * *

THE NIGHT SKY detonated in bursts of light and window-shaking explosions. In the backseat of a patrol car, Noah counted as church bells tolled in the New Year. The cop had stuck him there after Noah had tried to escape. He kicked the back of the driver’s seat in a steady rhythm. “I want to go see my mom.”

“Sorry, kid. My orders are to take you to the shelter.”

Tears burned the backs of Noah’s eyes. He didn’t know what would happen there, but no way was he going there.

“But my mom, she’ll need me when she wakes up.” He tried to keep the whining out of his voice. Whining just made adults mad.

“Someone will come and get you, probably Monday, and take you to see her.”

Monday? That was three days away. She might be dead by then. He was going tonight. A plan popped into his mind. “You promise?”

“Kid, if nobody comes, you call the station, and I’ll come personally and take you. Just ask for Jason.”

Yeah, he knew those kinds of promises. His mom made them all the time. Besides, if the cop could take him Monday, he could take him right now. “Thanks.”

The cruiser turned into a dark drive and pulled up to an equally dark house. The cop spoke to him over his shoulder. “I’m going to open the door, and if you run again, I’ll catch you, and I’ll put handcuffs on you. Understand?”

Noah pressed his lips together to keep them from trembling. The cop’s eyes were kind, but Noah knew he was serious about what he said. “Y-yes, sir.” He’d just have to make sure the cop didn’t catch him.

At the back of the house, a light glowed in the window, and the door opened before they reached it. A thick black woman met them at the steps in her bare feet and ushered them into the kitchen. The door clicked shut as butterflies fluttered in Noah’s stomach. The door had some kind of box beside it that the black lady punched. Had to be a lock. His breath hung in his chest. He was trapped.

“Jason,” she said, nodding at the cop. Then she held out her hand. “I’m glad you made it, Noah.”

She knew his name? He gazed up. And up. She must be ten feet tall. He swallowed, and she knelt in front of him, making them eye level.

“I’m sorry, son.” She chuckled and the warm sound washed over him like a gentle rain. “Sometimes I forget that I can scare little people. My name is Miss Sarah.”

He stood a little taller. “I wasn’t scared.”

She still had her hand extended, and he stuck his out. Immediately it was swallowed in her dark one.

“Are you hungry?” She widened her eyes like adults did sometimes when they talked to kids. “Could you eat some scrambled eggs and biscuits?”

His mouth watered, but he shook his head, remembering the last time he’d been put in a shelter in another state. That lady was all nice as long as somebody was around, too. Probably as soon as the cop left, this one would do the same thing—get mad ’cause she had to clean up his mess.

She ruffled his hair, and her knees popped as she stood. “Well, maybe you don’t want anything, but I bet Jason here does. Right, Jason?”

“Some of your biscuits, Miss Sarah? Yes, ma’am.” The cop took off his hat and laid it on the table. “Noah, you sit there in the middle, and I’ll just take the end chair.”

Noah did as he was told. The kitchen was warm, and his eyelids drooped. If he weren’t so hungry...

Something smelled so good...he woke with a start. Jason and Miss Sarah were laughing, but not in a mean way.

“Didn’t know whether to let you sleep or wake you up.” Miss Sarah scooted him closer to the table, then slathered butter on a biscuit and put it on his plate beside a mound of scrambled eggs.

“I thought he was going to fall out of the seat,” Jason said. He leaned back in his chair. “Thank you, Miss Sarah. That was really good.”

The food tempted Noah. The last he’d eaten was the couple of slices of ham he’d found at the Dumpster, and before that, it’d been a bowl of ramen noodles. That’d been lunch, yesterday. Don’t be taking any handouts. We don’t ask anybody for anything. Butter oozed from the middle of the bread. Maybe just one bite...

The cop stood and picked up his cap.

“You gonna tell him about your phone call?” she asked.

“Oh, yeah.” He smiled down at Noah. “I called the hospital, and they told me your mom was doing better.”

Noah swallowed the lump that threatened to choke him. “Is she awake?”

Jason hesitated. “Not yet.”

“Then she’s not all right. I gotta be there when she wakes up.” His voice cracked, and he fought the tears that threatened to spill.

“What you need to do, son—” Miss Sarah cupped his face in her huge brown hands “—is to eat so you can keep your strength up. You won’t be able to help your momma if you get sick. Okay?”

He stared into her chocolate-brown eyes.

“Trust me, Noah. I won’t steer you wrong, and I won’t ever lie to you.”

Something inside him said she was telling the truth. At last, he nodded.

“Good. Now eat your food, and then we’ll get you into bed.”

He attacked the eggs, keeping his eye on Sarah and Jason as they walked to the back door. She punched in something on the box before Jason left, but he couldn’t see exactly what she did. He’d have to watch if he wanted to get out of here. He figured there were bars on the windows like the last place. The door was probably the only way out.

CHAPTER THREE

“SO YOU’RE GUARANTEEING me you can pull this off for this price?” The silver-haired building magnate drew a line under the dollar figure Matt had quoted for the Valentine’s Day banquet. “That’s all-inclusive?”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Bradford,” Matt said. “Except for the entertainment, and I can provide you with a list of bands and ensembles I’ve worked with in the past. I can even contact them for you, unless you want to bring in a comedian from Las Vegas. Then you’re on your own.”

J. Phillip Bradford rested his forearms on the table in the small conference room where Matt and the CEO were meeting. Bradford’s silver eyebrows arched in perpetual skepticism. He didn’t respond to Matt’s attempt at humor.

Matt swallowed the impulse to add another sales pitch. He’d laid it all out and there was no reason to go over it again. The older man’s steel-gray eyes bored into Matt’s, and he forced himself not to move. Keeping his mouth shut was harder.

Finally, Bradford nodded. “Thank you for coming in. Of the five hotels who have submitted a proposal, you’re the only representative who agreed to meet with me today.”

Surely that counted for something. Matt pushed to his feet as the older man stood, his hand extended. Even at seventy, J. Phillip Bradford was as tall as Matt’s six-one, his posture ramrod-straight, his grip firm as he still seemed to take Matt’s measure.

“This gala is very important to me. At last year’s affair, we raised enough money to fund an orphanage for a year. With the ambience you, or one of your competitors, provide, I expect to do even better this year. Thank you for coming by, Matthew.”

Outside the conference room, Matt allowed his shoulders to relax as he mentally ticked the meeting off his to-do list for the day and hurried to the elevator. When he stepped off on the ground floor, he dialed Jessica. Today was the day. Pick her up in twenty minutes, take her to his apartment and make his special breakfast, then pop the question.

“Good morning, love.” Sleepiness edged her soft voice.

She wasn’t up, much less dressed. Disappointment stole a little of his excitement. “The meeting is over, and I’m on my way to pick you up.”

“Now? What time is it?”

“Yes, now, and it’s eleven-thirty. I have a special day planned.”

“And I’m almost ready,” she said with a low chuckle. “Fooled you, didn’t I? But, since I’m not quite dressed yet, why don’t I drive myself to your apartment?”

Punctuality wasn’t Jessica’s strong suit so he was a little surprised. “See me in the next thirty minutes?”

“Forty-five. I’ll call you before I leave.”

Back at his apartment, he set the dining room table then picked up a magazine he’d left flopped open on the bar. He looked around for a place to stash it.

Allie materialized in his mind, how she’d hesitated when he asked her thoughts about the apartment. She hadn’t liked what she’d seen. It’d been written all over her face. Not that she would ever like anything about his new lifestyle.

Allie had looked good, and he wondered what made her lose all that weight? Not that she’d ever looked bad, or at least he hadn’t thought so. She’d been the one bothered by her Rubenesque figure.

Was it because of Peter? Surely, not that smug egotist. What was it Peter said he did? Director of social services. Perfect. A bureaucratic job suited him to a T. He just couldn’t see Allie and Peter together.

Matt glanced down at the magazine still in his hand. Maybe next week he and Jessica could pick out a new end table with a drawer. And maybe a couple of landscapes for the walls to go with the abstract painting. Scratch that thought. He’d mentioned that before. No, no, Matthew, space and light will flow, creating the perfect decor for this room. Besides, this room is you.

His cell vibrated in his pocket, and he fished it out. Jessica. “Yes?”

“Just so you’ll know, I’m walking out the door. And did you remember to pick up the caramel coffee at Starbucks?”

His heart sank. Would Starbucks be open on New Year’s Day? It had to be. If not, maybe there was a number on the door for emergencies. “It will be waiting for you.”

“Good. See you soon.”

Matt had fifteen minutes to drive to Starbucks and get back. He grabbed his car keys and hit the door. Please let the coffee shop be open. He repeated the mantra all the way to his BMW convertible, and then for the next two blocks. Cars in the parking lot. There was a God in heaven. As he got out of the car, a plaintive meow halted him, and he glanced around. Sounded like a kitten. Another meow. Matt ignored it. Inside the store he grabbed a bag of caramel coffee and hurried to the checkout.

Back at his car, the meows intensified. He didn’t see a cat, but neither did he look too hard. Humming, he pulled from the parking space and turned onto the street, glancing one last time at the parking lot. A tiny kitten wobbled in the space he’d just left.

No! He didn’t have time for any distractions, especially a kitten. Maybe the mother cat would come and take care of it. He drove on. But what if someone ran over it? Someone with small children. Groaning, he made a left onto the next street and circled back to the coffee shop. Maybe the mother cat had made an appearance.

No such luck. Matt parked and, using his finger and thumb, picked up the still mewling kitten. “Aw, kitty, you’ve got blood seeping from your nose.”

The kitten stared at him through one opened eye. Just what he needed. An injured kitten and no vets open, but he couldn’t just leave it like this in the cold parking lot. Matt looked around for something to put the kitten in and spied a cardboard box. He hurried to get it, trying not to think about how Jessica was allergic to cats. He would put it in his bedroom. She’d never have to know. “All right, kitty, just for today. Tomorrow you go to animal rescue.”

* * *

NOAH BLINKED HIS eyes open and stretched his arms. The bed above him creaked, and seconds later a boy about his age popped his head over the side, his solemn brown eyes unwavering.

“You can’t have the top bunk. It’s ours.”

Noah glared at him. “I don’t want your old top bunk.” He hoped he fell out of it.

Another blond head popped over the side, and Noah rubbed his eyes. Was he seeing double? No, there were two of them—they wore different pajama tops. The new boy had stars on his pajamas.

“Don’t pay any attention to Lucas,” star man said. “I’m Logan. We’re twins. Why are you here? Our mom died and our dad got put in jail.”

Lucas nodded. “Nobody wanted us so they brought us here. Didn’t nobody want you, either?”

“I don’t have anyone but my mom.” Noah laced his fingers behind his head. “Doesn’t matter—I’m not going to be here long.”

“You’ll be here longer than you think.” Lucas swiped his nose with his white pajama sleeve. He poked his brother. “Come on. I smell breakfast.”

Both heads disappeared, and when the twins descended the ladder at the foot of the bed, Noah got a good look at them. They were identical down to the freckles across their noses, except for their pajamas. Logan was an astronaut. Noah squinted. Was that a sad donkey on the pajamas Lucas had on? Boy, did somebody know him.

“You coming?” asked Logan.

“I’m not waiting,” Lucas said and left, but Logan lingered.

“I’ll be there in a minute.” Noah had to figure a way to get out of here. A few minutes later, after Logan had exited and when no plan on how to get past the locked door came to him, he sniffed the air. Definitely wasn’t bacon he smelled, more like sausage. Maybe there’d be some more of those biscuits like last night. Last night. His mom, so white, not saying anything. He threw back the blanket and scrambled out of bed. Miss Sarah might have heard something from the hospital.

Where were his shoes? He dropped to the floor and searched under the bed. They weren’t there. He fought to get his breath. He couldn’t leave if he didn’t have his shoes. Maybe they were with his clothes. He looked in the chair, where he’d neatly folded his shirt and jeans the night before. They were gone. The room spun. He fisted his hands. “No!”

“Noah, honey, what’s wrong?” Miss Sarah’s arms wrapped around him, and the spinning stopped.

“You took my shoes. And my clothes. Give them back. They’re mine.”

“Oh, sugar, I just put your clothes in the wash, and your shoes needed cleaning. You can have them back as soon as they’re dry.”

He gulped and searched her face. Her brown eyes smiled back at him. “You promise?” he whispered.

“No one’s going to take your things here, Noah. This is a safe place. It’s where your mom would want you to be.”

Miss Sarah was wrong about that. His mom was going to be so angry when she found out. If she found out. “Have...you heard if she’s okay?”

She shook her head. “We’ll call after breakfast. So, come on and let’s get some food in you.”

“Can you take me to see her?”

Her shoulders sagged. “Son, I wish I could, but I have to stay here at the shelter. I’ll call Jason later. Maybe he can take you.”

In the kitchen, the constant clanging from the dryer reassured him. They’d lived in a house once with a dryer, and when his mom put his jeans in it, the sound was the same. Logan and Lucas were already cleaning their plates. Lucas even eyed the three links of sausage on Noah’s plate. “Don’t even think about it,” Noah muttered as he slid into his chair.

Miss Sarah piled scrambled eggs onto Noah’s plate. “Want your biscuit buttered?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Noah bit into one of the links.

“He didn’t say the blessing.”

Logan punched his brother. “Knock it off.”

Noah kept eating. What was Lucas? The blessing boss?

“Now, Lucas,” Miss Sarah said, patting Noah on the shoulder. “He may have said a silent one.”

He shot the twin a ha-ha-ha smirk. Lucas would never be his friend, ’cause first chance Noah got, he was going to knock his block off.

Miss Sarah walked to the phone on the wall, her house shoes slapping against the floor. Noah held his breath as she dialed. Let his mom be awake. He repeated the prayer until she put the phone back in its cradle on the wall and turned to him.

“I’m sorry, Noah, but she’s still...asleep.”

Why didn’t she just say it? His mom was in a coma. Like before. If he could just get to her, tell her he was sorry and that he never should’ve left her, she’d wake up. He pushed back his plate.

“Honey, you need to eat to keep your strength up.”

“I don’t want anything.”

“Can I have your sausage, then?” Lucas reached toward his plate.

“No!” Noah snatched the remaining link and bit into it. The taste nearly gagged him, but choking it down would be better than letting Lucas have it.

Miss Sarah placed another pan of biscuits on the table and the twins grabbed two each. “Boys, I have work to do in the office. You three behave until Brittany gets here.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the twins said in unison. Noah kept chewing.

After Miss Sarah left, he turned to Logan. “Who’s Brittany?”

“She helps Miss Sarah.” Logan smeared strawberry jam on his biscuit.

“How long have you been here? I don’t remember seeing you in school.”

“That’s ’cause you always sit with your head down.” Logan’s lips pressed into a thin line.

“So?” Noah sort of remembered the twins from the cafeteria.

Lucas leaned forward. “We’re not gonna be here much longer. Our dad’s gonna come get us.”

“I thought you said he was in jail.”

Lucas shot him a look of disgust. “He’s gonna break out. Boy, are you stupid.”

Noah’s hands curled into fists. Nobody was ever going to call him that again. “I’m not stupid. You’re stupid if you believe that.” He looked toward the door. “How are you gonna get out of here, anyway? Do you know the code?”

Lucas elbowed his brother. “Told you he was stupid. That ain’t no lock. It’s just something that tells when a door opens.”

“You’re kidding.” Noah’s mind raced. All he had to do was get his clothes on and walk out the door? He crammed the last of the sausage in his mouth and hurried to get his clothes from the dryer. They were almost dry and he quickly changed out of his pajamas.

“What’re you doin’?” Logan asked.

“What does it look like? Putting my clothes on.”

“You’re gonna run away.” Lucas’s voice raised a notch.

“Shut up.” Noah slipped into his still-warm jacket and headed toward the door.

Logan grabbed his arm. “Where’re you going?”

Noah shook his arm free and opened the door. Logan might not tell, but Lucas would rat him out in a heartbeat. A soft voice intoned a warning that the back door was open. His heart leaped into his throat. He darted through the door to the outside and didn’t quit running until he came to a corner with a traffic light.

With his chest heaving, he tried to get his breath and his bearings. Which way was the hospital? He’d been there, his mom had taken him to the emergency room when he cut his hand. Noah bit his lip. Maybe he could ask someone. He looked around—a patrol car idled in the convenience store parking lot across the street. Swallowing hard, he took a second peek. Empty. The cop must be in the store. Noah ran against the light and kept going until he reached the next corner. Another convenience store. Maybe someone inside would tell him how to get to the hospital.

* * *

ALLIE STARED AT the cell number Peter had given her last night. He’d said to call her if she changed her mind about having breakfast with him this morning. She dialed before second thoughts set in. He answered with his last name, sounding very businesslike.

“Uh, it’s me, Allie. You said to—”

“Allie! Oh, good, you’ve changed your mind. Great. I’m staying at the Winthrop, and they serve an excellent brunch until one this afternoon. Would you like me to pick you up at Clint’s?”

“No, I’ll drive.” She’d leave for Cedar Grove from the hotel. “I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

Allie disconnected. She hadn’t been able to forget the call Peter had received last night. In a town the size of Cedar Grove, she had to know the nine-year-old—more than likely he was one of her students. And after a restless night, she was pretty sure which one.

She arrived at the top floor of the Winthrop where the dining room overflowed into the mezzanine. She spotted Peter over by a window and hesitated. This was not a good idea. What would they talk about? Last night, conversation revolved around dancing and lots of other people. Talking with children one-on-one—piece of cake. Not so much with a man as good-looking as Peter—being the introvert she was, she never felt she was interesting enough to hold an attractive man’s attention. With her heart pounding, she took a step back, looking for an escape, but Peter spied her and waved her over. Allie smoothed the winter-white slacks she’d chosen and fastened a smile on her lips.

She accepted the chair Peter pulled out for her. From the window, she glimpsed a view of the Mississippi River as it rolled south. “I’ve never eaten here before.”

A pleased smile spread across his face. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

“Good.” He lifted his eyebrows. “Maybe there will be more ‘firsts’ in the future. And I’ve ordered for us.”

“You’ve ordered for me?” She struggled to keep from giving him her detention glare.

“They were so busy, and I knew you wanted to leave for Cedar Grove as soon as you could.”

He made sense, but still...

“Your first course, sir.” The waiter placed identical bowls of tropical fruit before them.

As soon as they finished the fruit, the waiter produced their main course. How much money had Peter given him to hover? She stared at her plate.

“It’s a spanakopita omelet,” Peter said. “I had the chef make it especially for you.”

A Greek omelet. She took a hesitant bite, and as the contrasting flavors of spinach and feta cheese hit her taste buds, she smiled. “Very delicious.”

“I didn’t think you’d order one yourself, so I took the liberty.”

She frowned. How well did he think he knew her? He might have a surprise or two. She eyed Peter’s Belgian waffle and sausage. How in the world did he stay so trim? “Either you don’t eat like this every day or you are a workout nut.”

He laughed, his rich baritone warm to her ears. “Yes and no.”

She glanced up, seeking clarification, and he chuckled again.

“Yes, I don’t eat like this every day, and no, I don’t exercise. At least not too strenuously or every day.”

Some people got all the luck. Today Peter wore a black mock turtleneck that hugged his abs and he didn’t show an ounce of fat.

He leaned toward Allie. “It’s evident you work out.”

“Thank you.” At least Peter had noticed her weight loss since college. The approval in his eyes was the payoff for her hours in the gym, and she took a moment to enjoy the compliment.

“I understand you’re not seeing anyone right now.”

Allie almost choked on her omelet. She patted her lips with the napkin. “I don’t have time.”

“I’ve heard that, too. I don’t even know how you have time for the gym.” Peter used his fingers to count. “Teacher, counselor and Sarah told me you mentor some of the children who come into the shelter. And now you’ve added foster parenting to the mix?”

Peter had been doing his homework on her. “I like working with kids—it’s probably in my genes. Just like with Clint. Watching Mom and Dad take in foster kids influenced both of us. He works with kids at the Boys and Girls Club, and I do what I do. But, because I am busy, I’ve asked to be considered only for school-age children.”

She paused as the waiter appeared at their table and whisked the empty plates away. “But that’s enough talk about me,” Allie said after he left. “How did you get into social work?”

Peter shrugged. “Dad wanted me to become a psychiatrist, and I wanted to be a musician.” A wry grin spread across his lips. “We compromised.”

She laughed. “And neither of you won.”

“I don’t know. It brought me back to Cedar Grove and you.”

His pale blue eyes darkened, and she looked away.

“Actually, I never considered being a musician. I think that was just to irritate Dad. I did get a bachelor’s in psychology then knocked around for a while.”

“So, how did you get to be director of social services in Cedar Grove?”

He leaned back and folded his arms. “That is all your fault.”

“My fault?”

“Yeah, all that time I was trying to figure out what I wanted to do with the rest of my life, something you said at graduation kept bouncing around in my head.”

She cocked her head. “And that was?”

“You paraphrased John Kennedy, who paraphrased an old school master. ‘Don’t ask what our country can do for us—’”

“Ask what we can do for her.” Allie grinned as she finished the sentence. “I was young and idealistic.”

“You’re still idealistic. I’ve wanted to tell you for some time that the impact of your words prompted me to apply for a job with the Department of Human Services in Washington, and it didn’t take long to figure out I needed a master’s in social work.”

“Why did you come back to Cedar Grove?”

He took her hand and caressed her fingers. “Because of you.”

Her face burning, she withdrew her hand. “Why are you suddenly interested in me?”

“It’s not sudden. I’ve always been interested, but in high school and during college, you only had eyes for Matt. When I returned to Cedar Grove last year, friends told me not to waste my time. You were married to your job and your volunteer projects. I invented excuses to be at the shelter when I knew you would be there, but every time we met, you pulled into your shell and hung out the Do Not Disturb sign. That’s why I resorted to practically begging your brother to invite me last night.”

“Why didn’t you just flat-out ask?”

Peter flashed a wicked grin. “Let’s see if that will work.” He cleared his throat and leaned toward her. “Miss Carson, I enjoyed dancing with you last night. There’s a nice supper club in Cedar Grove. So what do you say? Dinner and dancing Friday night?”

Why not? Dancing with Peter had been fun, and today had been...different. Just because they went out, didn’t mean she had to give him her heart. It was in too many pieces anyway. She tilted her head toward him. “I would love to.”

“Good.” He motioned to the waiter for another refill on their coffee. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

“You can ask. Don’t know if you’ll get an answer.”

“What did you ever see in Matt Jefferies?”

“I can’t believe you asked me that.”

He shrugged. “I just never understood why you dated him. He wasn’t good enough for you.”

Suddenly Peter’s interest in her became clearer. Allie blotted her mouth with her napkin. A memory from high school. Peter losing a math competition to Matt. Peter telling Matt he’d never be anything but the kid from the wrong side of town. Surely that wasn’t what Peter referred to. But she had to know for sure.

Allie fingered the handle of the porcelain cup, and on cue, the waiter appeared and refilled it with coffee. After he left, she stirred cream into her cup. “You’re not still competing with Matt, are you?”

“Compete with Matt? Of course not. I’m glad to see him doing well. I just always thought you belonged with someone more like me.” He smiled, exposing perfectly even white teeth.

“And not the kid from Beaker Street?”

A red flush started at his neck and ended at his ears. “That was a stupid remark I made a long time ago. I never should’ve said it. I didn’t like that he always beat me in everything. Math, quarterback position, you.”

She eyed him over the cup’s rim.

“Honestly,” he said, “I’ve always regretted saying that.”

What was it she’d always heard about people using the word honestly?

Peter’s cell phone rang, and he slid it from his belt. He frowned. “I can’t believe I’m getting another call from the office. Excuse me.”

He stepped away from the table. When he returned, his face was pinched and the muscle in his jaw twitched.

“That case from last night?” She’d been trying to figure out how to bring up the subject without being too obvious. Now the problem was solved.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “The kid’s run away.”

“Last night you said the child was a nine-year-old boy. He may be in my reading class. Maybe I can help. It’s possible I know the family, or where he might’ve gone.”

“Oh, I know where he’s gone. The hospital to check on his OD’d mother. Sarah at the shelter said that’s all he talked about.”

Protective son, overdosed mother. Don’t let it be— “Is the mother’s name Mariah Connors?”

He stared at her. “How do you know Mariah Connors?”

She swallowed the bile that rose up her throat. Poor Noah. “I’ve counseled the boy, had parent-teacher meetings with Mariah, so I know the situation. She’s Matt Jefferies’s sister.”

* * *

MATT TOOK ONE last look at the diamond engagement ring and closed the box. He’d locked the wedding band away in his wall safe until the wedding. Wedding. He liked the sound of the word.

A tiny flicker of regret pierced his memory. He’d asked Allie to marry him once, and she’d turned him down. Looking back, it was probably for the best. Allie never approved of his bold plans to get ahead, and she wouldn’t fit into his present lifestyle. Besides, she was his past. Jessica was his future. A future that was within his grasp, one he had worked hard to get. Jessica wanted the same things he did. But it was more than wanting the same things. She was kind and caring.

His heart tendered at a memory of Jessica in the park last summer. She’d set up her easel at the Memphis Zoo to sketch the snow leopards, and a small girl had wanted to “help.” Without hesitation, Jessica flipped to a new sheet in her sketch pad and spent the next fifteen minutes letting the child try her hand at drawing.

The kitten mewed, and he glanced at the cardboard box. The kitten had surprised him when he returned home with it, lapping milk from a bowl. It mewed again. “Shh,” he said as he knelt by the box. “You need to be quiet. Jessica will be here soon and if she hears you, she’ll want to hold you and that will make her sneeze. Are you hungry?”

Matt had cleaned the closed eye, and now the kitten stared at him with two good eyes. It mewed again, and he frowned. He’d barely gotten a little more milk poured when the doorbell rang. He settled it gently on an old T-shirt in a corner of the box. “Be quiet,” he said and closed the door to his bedroom.

“Happy New Year, love.” Jessica swept into the room and wrapped her arms around his neck.

He tilted her face toward him and gently kissed her as the strains of “Clair de Lune” played softly in the background. Matt kissed her again, and she leaned into him, returning his kiss. “Happy New Year to you, too,” he said when they broke apart. “Are you hungry?”

“Hmm, I don’t know. This is nice.” Her stomach growled, and she giggled. “I guess that ruined the mood.”

“Right this way, m’lady.”

“What’s this?” She shifted her gaze from the table set with his best china and back to Matt.

“Just setting the mood,” he replied. “You look great, as usual.”

And she did, in boots and black leggings and a short, hunter-green dress that brought out the green in her hazel eyes.

“You’re not so bad yourself.” She stroked the red cashmere sweater he wore, a Christmas gift from her. “So, what have you made me?”

He pulled out her chair. “Eggs Benedict—I just have to cook the eggs, but we’ll start off with fruit, and caramel coffee.”

An hour later, Matt refreshed their cups. Everything had gone off without a hitch, even the eggs. Jessica smiled.

“Thank you, Matthew. I don’t know when I’ve ever had a better New Year’s celebration. Last night and now this morning.”

His heart thumped faster as he looked into her eyes. The velvet box was in his pocket, waiting for him to bring out at the right moment. He took her hand. “Jessica, we’ve talked about marriage before, and you know how much I—”

A yowl from his bedroom made him flinch.

“What was that?” She looked over his shoulder toward the bedroom.

The kitten. Not mewing, but sounding exactly like it had in the parking lot. Loud. Pitiful. It was a noise that could not be ignored. “Uh...”

“Matthew, do I hear a cat?” She cocked her head. “It is. But...but you know I’m allergic.”

“I know. It’s a kitten, and I thought I ran over it. You stay here while I go check—”

The doorbell rang, and rang again. And again.

“I’ll get the door.” Jessica pointed toward the bedroom. “You see about that poor kitty.”

The kitten howled again, and Matt huffed a sigh. It probably needed milk again, and he grabbed the carton. “Be right back. Entertain whoever it is.”

The kitten stared plaintively at him when he opened the door and immediately hushed its crying. He picked up the bowl and refilled it. Voices came from the other room. Women’s voices. Matt placed the bowl beside the kitten and guided it to the milk. “You’re on your own, kiddo,” he said and went to wash his hands.

Then he stepped into the living room and stopped. “Allie?”

Jessica’s gaze went from Allie to him. “You didn’t tell me Clint’s sister was stopping by.”

Something was wrong. Bad wrong. It was stamped in the way Allie stood, in the slump of her shoulders, in her face. “What’s going on?”

“Matt, I don’t know how to tell you... Mariah is in the hospital. Your sister may not make it. And her son has run away from the shelter.”

He didn’t know why he felt so surprised.

“Sister?” Jessica turned to him. “You never said anything about a sister.”

“Everybody, just sit down.” He sank into the hard leather chair closest to him and looked at Allie. “What happened?”

“I’m not sure. All I know is she overdosed on heroin and her little boy has run away from the person who was looking after him temporarily,” Allie said. “You’ll have to ask Peter Elliott exactly what happened.”

He missed whatever she said next. Peter Elliott? He was taken aback the great man hadn’t already called to rub Matt’s nose in the news. Mariah. What have you done? His sister might be two years older, but he’d always taken care of her until she ran off with that Connors thug. He realized Allie had asked him something. “I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

“I have the hospital number, if you want it.” She held a slip of paper out toward him.

Matt folded his arms across his chest. “I don’t know what you expect me to do. I tried to talk to Mariah when she first started using—after Connors introduced her to drugs. She didn’t listen then, and I doubt that anything has changed. I’m sorry, but she made her choice a long time ago.”

And he had made his when he left Cedar Grove. He just never thought his past would choose today to catch up with him.

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