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Cody groaned inwardly at the sarcasm with which he’d laced that final word of his tirade. Well, he might be only minutes away from being shown the door, but what choice did he have?
Reluctantly moving to the seating area, he’d barely lowered himself into a burgundy leather chair when the final notes of the classic Christmas choral piece faded away as the woman in the back room wrapped up the conversation. Her lilting tones now clearly reached Cody’s ears.
A viselike sensation tightened around his chest.
It couldn’t be, could it? But that voice...
He stood and moved swiftly to the door. This wasn’t the time or place for a reunion. Not when anyone could walk in on them at any minute. Her dad. A coworker. Her husband.
“May I help you?” a melodious voice called from behind him as he reached for the doorknob.
He tensed, willing his heart to slide down out of his throat and back into his chest. Please let this be a cousin. A long-lost sister. With effort, he turned to look directly into the smoky-gray eyes of a woman far more exquisite than the girl he’d long remembered.
A soft charcoal sweater, jeans, English riding-style boots and dark brown hair pulled loosely into a low ponytail gave her the carefully casual appearance of an American aristocrat. High cheekbones touched by a whisper of rose and delicately arched eyebrows underlined the air of seemingly flawless refinement.
But he knew the satiny gloss on a too-tempting mouth camouflaged a scar acquired in third grade. She’d been running from playground bullies, slipped on a graveled walkway and cut her lower lip. He remembered the day well, his first at the new school as a fifth grader. He’d retaliated on her behalf by bloodying a few noses, got sent home...and forever lost his heart to Paris Perslow.
Or rather, Paris Herrington.
Mrs. Dalton Jenner Herrington III.
* * *
Heart pounding, Paris stared up at the boy she’d known since grade school. A man now. Tall. Muscular. Rugged. A shock of raven hair slashed across his forehead and the high cheekbones gave credence to talk of Native American blood in his ancestry. Sharp, black-brown eyes pierced into hers.
“Remember me, Paris?” His words, tinged with the faintest of Texas accents, held a note of self-deprecating humor as he no doubt recalled their last meeting.
How could she forget him? Not only had he been her self-appointed guardian from third grade onward, raising the ire of teachers, classmates and her father alike, but her last encounter with him had left her more than shaken.
“I’m sorry to hear of your father’s stroke, Cody.”
His jaw, graced with a five o’clock shadow even this early in the morning, hardened. “Bad situation.”
“Is he... Has there been any improvement?”
A humorless smile touched Cody’s lips. “He still can’t talk much. I’d say that’s an overall improvement, wouldn’t you?”
Paris flinched at the candid judgment. While the burly Leroy Hawk could be a charmer when he chose to be, his humor was sometimes biting and unforgiving. She’d often wondered why her father kept him on as an employee.
Clearly, though, there was still no love lost between father and son despite over a decade’s separation. Which wasn’t surprising. In elementary school, Cody had once furtively raised his ragged T-shirt to show her the ugly bruises—but only after he’d made her promise never to tell.
She hadn’t told.
But she should have.
Ignoring Cody’s harsh question, she restlessly moved to the Christmas tree and picked up a box of glass ornaments. “How is your mother holding up?”
Cody had adored Lucy Hawk, and Paris suspected that as a kid he’d deliberately drawn his father’s anger in an effort to protect her from the short-tempered man’s fists.
“Working too hard.”
She always had, and now Leroy’s health setback would make it even harder on her. Paris removed an ornament from the box and hooked a metal hanger into its loop. “I bought the wreath on the door from Dix’s. It’s one of hers. Canyon Springs is fortunate to have her working on the annual Christmas gala this year. She’s a true craftsman—a gifted artist.”
“I’ll let Ma know you think so.”
For several moments, neither of them spoke. What more was there to say that could be said? A tremor of awareness skittered as Cody’s dark eyes remained fixed on her, and she self-consciously hung the ornament on the tree. He’d always looked at her that way. It was in many ways the same look other men had long been known to give her—appreciative of her beauty. But with Cody there had been something else. A tenderness. An almost...reverence.
That had always been her undoing, and she’d long guarded against it. Abruptly she turned toward him. “I’m sorry, is there something I can help you with?”
He cleared his throat. “I’m here to see your father.”
Regarding Leroy’s job security? His insurance? His stroke wasn’t workers’-compensation-related. Everyone in town knew he’d blown last Friday’s paycheck on lottery tickets and booze, then when the multimillion-dollar winning number was drawn—and it wasn’t his—he’d suffered a stroke.
Her own father had seemed more agitated about the whole thing than she would have expected. Had he anticipated this visit from Cody, asking special favors for his father, maybe applying legal pressure?
“I’m afraid Dad left for the Valley this morning. He’ll be gone for a few days. Remember, this is a holiday weekend.”
Cody’s brows lowered.
“He left you here to watch over things?” His glance raked the office, then focused again on her. “All alone?”
Gazing up at the big man, a ripple of unease skimmed her spine. But that kind of thinking was preposterous. Cody might look menacing, but he’d never so much as attempted to lay a hand on her during the years she’d known him. Not even that last day when he’d stepped out of the darkness and frightened her half out of her wits with his crazy talk.
Nevertheless...
“Everett’s here. And Kyle. Or at least they’ll be back in few minutes.” She moved behind the receptionist’s desk, placing a barrier between them. She didn’t know Cody now. She hadn’t really known him back then, either. And although he’d never crossed any lines with her, he was a Hawk.
“I don’t,” he stated, “have business with Everett or Kyle.”
“Perhaps there’s something I can—”
“I need to see your father.”
“I’d be happy to schedule an appointment for Monday.” She did her best to keep her tone cheerful despite his terse responses. She’d warn her dad, of course, so he wouldn’t be caught unprepared.
Cody exhaled a resigned breath. “First thing Monday morning then.”
She opened the scheduling software program. “Nine-thirty?”
“There’s nothing earlier?”
You’d have thought she’d suggested high noon. He’d been an early riser as a kid, with chores to see to before he came to school. Maybe old habits died hard?
“Dad often works late in the evening with clients, so yes, nine-thirty is customary.”
“Fine.”
He didn’t sound as though it were fine, but she typed his name into the database. “May I let him know what the appointment concerns?”
“He’ll know.”
Did he have to sound so confrontational? That wouldn’t go over well with Dad. It didn’t go over well with her, either. Cody might never have had much patience with those in authority, but he’d always been more than polite with her.
As if coming to the same realization, he nodded toward the computer, his tone softening. “I mean, he’ll know I’m here about my father’s situation. I need to find out where things stand regarding his employment status and medical benefits.”
She nodded and made the note. When she glanced up, he was watching her with that look that had been typical of Cody since the first day she’d met him. Self-consciously she ran her tongue along her lower lip. Across the scar.
“Well, you’re all set,” she said with a businesslike clip to her words. “Nine-thirty on Monday morning.”
“Thank you.” He placed his ball cap on his head, zipped his jacket and started to turn away. Then he paused to look down at her once again. “So you’re filling in here while visiting Canyon Springs over the Thanksgiving holiday?”
“I live here. I’m a real estate agent.”
His expression darkened slightly.
“Was there something else?” She held her breath, the pulse in her throat racing as his gaze lingered, indecision flickering through his eyes.
“No.” He shook his head. “Have a good rest of your day, Paris.”
And then he was gone, the sleigh bells chiming a farewell as the door closed behind him.
Exhaling, she leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes.
Cody Hawk had returned to town.
But he wouldn’t be here for long. He’d made that clear. He had family business to take care of, then would disappear into the night as he’d done a dozen years ago. Thankfully, he hadn’t attempted to express condolences for the death of her fiancé. Nor had he made reference to their last meeting.
When he’d confessed he loved her.
She’d been certain he intended to kiss her that night and, to her shame, she’d wanted him to. But when she’d come to her senses and rejected the outpouring of his heart—as her father would have expected of her—he’d had the audacity to claim that one day he’d return to town and she’d beg him to marry her.
She hurried to the windows to peek between the wooden-louvered slats at a departing Cody. Collar turned up against the wind-driven snow and hands rammed in his jacket pockets, he crossed the street with that same mesmerizing, masculine grace he’d grown into as a teen. He’d been all male from adolescence onward and even the nice girls noticed. But while a nice girl might dream a dangerous dream, in a little town like this she wouldn’t dare throw away her—and her family’s—reputation for a boy with kin like Cody’s.
Paris herself had been more than aware of him those many years ago, aware of his slow, lazy smile and barely-under-the-surface interest evidenced in the way he looked at her. That look had both excited and frightened her youthful heart, for he was a Hawk. Forbidden territory for a Perslow.
She abruptly stepped back from the window, irritated at herself for gawking after the still-enticing man. She was twenty-eight years old now. He was what—thirty? He’d been living his life elsewhere, doing who knew what, far from the vigilant eyes of Canyon Springs. He’d probably been up to no good, just like his father and older half brothers. Dad always said even a shiny apple didn’t fall far from the tree.
But that didn’t mean it wasn’t tempting.
She returned to the Christmas tree where she picked up another ornament. She wasn’t a teenager now, given to indulging in silly daydreams. Cody would soon be gone and his return to Canyon Springs a mere blip on the radar of her life.
With an air of resolve, she slipped a hook into the ornament loop and placed it on the end of a branch. But before she could react, the too-fragile needles bent, sending the decorative glass ball tumbling to the hardwood floor where it shattered at her feet.
Chapter Two (#ulink_a8ceb9af-2ecd-5a49-a453-70c5db4d83b5)
Cody strode to the old Dodge pickup, jerked open the door and climbed inside. Then he slammed the door and sat staring blindly out the snow-streaked windshield.
It was clear Paris couldn’t wait to send him on his way. He couldn’t blame her. How old had she been back then—almost sixteen? He’d been nearly eighteen and old enough to know better than to do what he’d done that night. He could still hear her soft gasp when he’d stepped out of the shadows where she’d been relaxing on the porch swing. He’d been desperate to speak to her before he left town, daring to risk being caught by her father.
Looking back, he was lucky she hadn’t called the cops.
And yet...for a fleeting moment, he thought he’d seen something in her eyes that sustained him with a glimmer of hope despite her firm but gentle turndown. It kept him going as he endeavored to turn his life around and become a man worthy of a woman like Paris. That is, until the day four years ago when he’d come across her engagement announcement on the front page of the online local paper.
Yeah, he’d been a dumb kid in more ways than one. He wasn’t that bright of an adult, either. He hadn’t spoken to Paris in twelve and a half years, yet he’d neglected to say it was good to see her. He hadn’t told her how beautiful she was. Nor could he bring himself to offer congratulations on her marriage into the Herrington clan.
Dalton Herrington.
Cody’s fists clenched involuntarily at the thought of the hotshot physician marrying Paris. But with Dalton’s professional status and upper-crust social standing in the community, he was exactly the kind of man she’d have been expected to marry. No surprises there. The future doctor had been in the same graduating class as Cody, likely finishing up medical school and heading into a residency program three and a half years ago. But even though he hadn’t been one to give Cody grief like others in the popular crowd, Cody didn’t want to think about them being a married couple who’d probably soon be starting a family of little high-class Herringtons.
For all he knew, they already had.
“Cody!” A sharp rapping at the driver-side window startled him back to the present.
He turned to find an auburn-haired, fiftysomething woman smiling at him and his spirits lifted as he stepped out to join her. Sharon Dixon, owner of Dix’s Woodland Warehouse, had always been good to his mom. To him, too, come to think of it. Funny how you forgot things like that.
The once-robust woman had lost considerable weight, though, since he’d last seen her. Had she been ill? His mother hadn’t mentioned it but, then again, after Paris’s engagement he no longer checked online to see what the pretty Miss Perslow might be up to, and forbade Ma to share any Canyon Springs gossip with him.
“As I live and breathe,” Sharon whispered, her former smoker’s voice as rough as sandpaper. “I’d heard you were back in town, doll. I’m sure your mother is tickled to pieces.”
He noticed she didn’t include his dad in that observation.
“Look at you. All grown up.” Her smile widened as she took him in from his booted toes to the baseball cap on his head. “I imagine you’re beating off the girls with a bat these days.”
He gave a dubious chuckle. “I can’t say that’s been much of a problem.”
“It will be if you stick around here for long.” She winked.
Right. While women elsewhere didn’t seem to have any objections to what reflected back at him in his mirror, he doubted any in this town would line up to compete for a guy who’d grown up on the wrong side of the tracks.
“I’m glad our paths crossed today, Cody. I have something for you to give your mom.” She dipped her fingers into a jacket pocket, then handed him a check. “It’s payment for wreaths and table decorations she left on consignment last week. They sold out within days.”
He glanced at the amount on Dix’s Woodland Warehouse check stock, then raised a brow. He used to gather bags of ponderosa pinecones for Ma, but had no idea people paid that kind of money for homemade Christmas decorations. He pulled out his wallet and tucked the check inside. “I’ll see she gets this.”
When she wasn’t with Dad.
“I’ve hesitated to contact her with all that’s going on.” Sharon gazed at him with sympathy. “But I have customers asking about future deliveries. There would be guaranteed sales if she can find time to put together more wreaths. The greenery or pinecone variety both sell well. Those quilted table runners are popular, too.”
“Thanks. I’ll let her know, Mrs. Dixon.”
“It’s Sharon.” She wagged a finger at him. “I thought we went through this when you were a teenager.”
They had, but he still felt funny calling her by her first name. His Texas-born mama had been a stickler for proper etiquette, Mister and Missus being drilled into him from infancy. Not that his manners had made any difference in this town.
“I’ll give the message to her...Sharon.”
She studied him for a long moment, windblown snowflakes lighting in her hair. “How is your father?”
Not many asked. Not many cared. But he knew Sharon’s concern, like Paris’s, was genuine, not merely fishing for gossip to share with neighbors who clucked their tongues at those no-good Hawk men. Dad couldn’t care less about their disapproval, but Cody knew it hurt Ma, even though she’d never said as much.
