a step, and he reached out a hand to steady her.
She looked up from his hand to his face. He was standing closer than before, and she sucked in a sharp breath. How had she forgotten how blue his eyes were? They were such an unusual shade of blue too. The color of the sky—not the rich, deep sky-blue you saw when you looked straight up but the muted, almost sea-blue of the sky at the distant horizon. Cain blue, Gran had always called it.
Dalton Cain—with his Cain blue eyes. She couldn’t let herself forget, even for a moment, who this man was—or that he had the power to crush her and Gran, if he ever had reason to do so.
Jerking her arm away from him, she asked, “What is it you want from me?”
“Why do you assume I want something from you?” he asked, his tone all innocence.
“Because when a Cain comes to visit, they always want something.”
“You don’t have a very high opinion of us.”
“No. I don’t suppose I do.”
And she knew it was ironic that she didn’t trust him. Of the two of them, she was the one who was aiding and abetting a thief. But what was she supposed to do? Let him cart Gran off to prison?
And suddenly, with that simple reminder, she didn’t want to let him into the school with her. She wanted to do this quick and dirty, to find out what he wanted from her and get out fast. She crossed her arms over her chest, tucking the key card under one arm in an act of silly defiance. “Don’t forget, I grew up in the Cain household. I would describe my opinion as accurate rather than low.”
She instantly regretted her words. This was so not the dialogue of the demure damsel in distress.
But then he winced with such exaggerated pain. “Ouch.”
She very nearly smiled, but she stopped herself just in time. She would not let herself be charmed by him. She knew all too well that Dalton could act like her best friend in the world one minute and not even know her the next. There was no way she would let herself get sucked into his mind games again.
“Oh, don’t pretend to be wounded,” she grumbled. “I haven’t spoken to you in nearly a decade. If you’ve shown up in my life after all this time it’s because you want something,” she said honestly. “So why don’t you stop trying to charm it out of me and just tell me what it is?”
The corner of his mouth bumped up. “You find me charming?”
She rolled her eyes. “I think we both know you can be very charming when there’s enough at stake. After all, you are your father’s son.”
His smiled faded, along with the spark in his eyes. “Okay. You want to know why I’m here? I need to talk to your grandmother.”
Damn. All the electric awareness vanished as quickly as though a circuit breaker had been blown. If he wanted to talk to Gran, then he must know.
Maybe he didn’t have proof. Maybe that was why he wanted to talk to Gran. Maybe he intended to badger the truth out of her. Laney couldn’t let that happen.
On a good day, Matilda Fortino barely knew who she was. As for the bad days… well, those were the days she spent trapped in her own mind, trapped in the memories of the distant past, filled with recriminations and regrets.
If Dalton went to see her, who knew what might come pouring out? She might confess to everything, assuming he didn’t already have proof.
Suddenly Laney—who’d never backed down from a fight in her life—felt like running. She waved her key card across the pad and the door into the school beeped. Just as she reached to open it, Dalton placed a hand on her arm. “Will you bring me to see your grandmother?”
Laney gave Dalton what she hoped would be one final look. She slipped back into the cool sanctuary of the school as she answered, “No.”
Two
Dalton shoved his foot between the door and the jamb seconds before it closed and locked him out.
Laney had her hand on the inside brass handle, and he felt her give it a tug before she glanced down to see his black leather shoe wedged there.
“Just hear me out.”
Time seemed to stretch as he waited for her response. She wasn’t going to listen to him. She’d slam the door in his face, he was sure of it. After all, they both knew she was right to be wary of him. Despite the difference in their ages, they’d been friends when she’d first moved into the Cain household when she was eleven. For two years, she’d shadowed him like an eager puppy. Then, abruptly and without explanation, he’d cut her out of his life the summer before her freshman year. He’d given her plenty of reasons to hate him now.
Her gaze darted all around the empty school hall before returning reluctantly to his. He saw her jaw clench and her mouth pinch in annoyance before he felt the pressure on his foot let up.
“Fine.”
“Thank you.” He opened the door the rest of the way and stepped out of the mid-afternoon sun into dimly lit air-conditioning. This was obviously a side entrance, leading into a broad hall with classroom doors branching out on either side. The walls were covered in murals painted by clumsy childish hands. The few blank stretches of wall were plastered with the kids’ art “framed” by construction paper. Despite the obvious attempts to brighten the atmosphere, the building showed its age.
Laney all but trotted down the hall, passed the occasional open doorway. “My classroom is over here.”
She moved with a speed and efficiency that belied her frilly dress and perky ruffled socks. All traces of the warmth she’d shown to the little girl in the car line had vanished.
Dalton considered himself something of an expert on reading business opponents. He was a master at the subtle art of analyzing someone’s mood and temperament based on their body language and facial expressions. It was a skill that came from many years of studying people.
He needed none of those skills to read Laney today. His presence here had her freaked out. Something he’d said or done had spooked her. But what?
By the time he caught up with her, she was pushing open the door to one of the classrooms. Like the rest of the building, the room was neat and well maintained but obviously showing its age. It had been years since Dalton had been in an elementary school—twenty-one years, to be exact, since his own stint as an elementary student. He’d forgotten how undersized that world felt. The tables barely reached his knees. The chairs looked sized for dolls rather than people. There were bookcases in one corner with a cluster of beanbag chairs. Caddies of art supplies sat at each trio of desks. One adult-sized desk sat in the corner.
Laney turned when she reached that desk. An owl stuffed animal sat beside the computer monitor. She ran her fingers across the toy’s white fluff, then blew out a breath before turning back to him.
“The afterschool class I teach has an assistant that oversees snack time. But I’ll need to be there when the class starts in fifteen minutes, so you’d better tell me why you’re really here.”
Her tone was terse, and she looked as though she could barely squeeze the words
