make her smile, hear her laugh?
He closed his eyes for a second, forcing away such thoughts. He wasn’t here to wonder about C. J. Doe. As he opened his eyes, he caught sight of long black hair swaying against her jean-clad bottom—shapely and rounded just enough to seriously distract a man. A jolt of sheer pleasure shot through him, which he quickly curbed.
Matthew followed her up the steps and tried to focus his attention on the surroundings. Everything was clean and orderly; not a weed grew in the flower beds, and logs were stacked neatly by the door for firewood. Not exactly what he’d expected from the Watson men. The scent of honeysuckle floated to his nostrils.
At one end of the porch hung a wooden swing, which squeaked as she sat on it. Matthew took the chair that was propped against the wall.
She stared at him with a direct gaze and he found himself staring back. He’d met a lot of lovely women, but he’d never met anyone as striking as her. Creamy skin sun-kissed to a warm gold, delicately carved facial bones, a pert nose and bow-shaped mouth. Thick dark lashes framed emerald-green eyes. And all that black hair, silken tresses that flowed around her, magnified the beauty of her eyes.
“You’re staring.” Her quiet voice stopped his avid inspection, and he was about to apologize for his gauche behavior when she asked, “Do I remind you of someone?”
Her eyes sparkled with anticipation and her mouth softened into a hint of a smile. While his senses absorbed the pleasure of that near smile, he understood what she meant. She thought she reminded him of someone—someone who could be related to her.
Matthew cleared his throat. “No, you don’t remind me of anyone.” That was true. He’d never seen anyone like her.
The sparkle died in her eyes, and Matthew wished he could tell her what she wanted to hear. But like everyone else in this town, he hadn’t a clue who had left her on the Watsons’ doorstep. All he knew was that he liked looking at her—too much.
Swallowing hard, he returned to business. “As you know, the Townsends are eager to get their land back.”
She didn’t respond, just stared at him with unwavering eyes.
Matthew came right to the point. “They’re willing to offer you a million dollars.”
A million dollars! The trump card, she thought. Mercy, the Townsends knew how to get a girl’s attention. But that was all they got. This only increased her belief that the Townsends had something to hide.
With a slow hand she tucked her hair behind her ear. “The land is not for sale.”
He expected surprise, jubilation, something besides that stubborn expression.
“It’s a very generous offer.”
“The land is not for sale,” she repeated.
He leaned forward, realizing this wasn’t going to be as easy as he or the Townsends had anticipated. “A million dollars, Miss Doe. Think what you can do with all that money.”
She didn’t say a word, just kept her green eyes focused on him.
“You can travel, leave Coberville, make a new life for yourself.”
One eyebrow rose slightly. “And what would I be called in this new life, Mr. Sloan, Jr.?”
He was taken aback by the question, and for once words failed him.
“Money can’t buy me my true identity,” she told him.
“But it could change a lot of things.”
“It would change nothing for me, Mr. Sloan, Jr. I would still be C. J. Doe.”
His eyes held hers and he knew C. J. Doe was fighting her own inner struggle, a struggle she’d fought all her life, because of not knowing who she was. He searched for a way to reach her. “You should talk it over with someone. Your lawyer.”
“I don’t have a lawyer” was the startling reply.
Matthew frowned. “But the lawsuit was filed six months ago. Surely someone has advised you.”
Her eyes darkened. “Your father said to let things ride, and eventually they’d work out.”
“Wait a minute.” He held up one hand to ward off the nagging feeling building inside him. “My father advised you?”
She nodded.
Matthew’s body went rigid with shock. He couldn’t believe his dad would advise both sides. Something was wrong.
He took a cautious breath. “My dad was the Townsends’ attorney. He had no right to advise you.”
“He was only trying to help me.”
“Still…”
“I’m sorry, I forgot to tell you how sad I was at his passing. He was one of the nicest men I’ve ever known.”
There was such sincerity in her voice. Her condolences were nothing like the perfunctory gesture Rob Townsend had made. God, that shouldn’t matter. What mattered was getting this case resolved. But nothing was going as he’d planned—or expected. She was beginning to make him feel like a bumbling first-year law student.
The thought sent all his legal instincts into action. “Miss Doe, if you don’t take the money, do you know what that’ll mean?”
She tilted her head slightly. “That I’ll be meeting you in a courtroom.”
“Yes,” he replied. “I’ll have to break the will and, believe me, Miss Doe, I can break it.”
Her eyes met the challenge in his. “Mr. Sloan, Jr., if you can break the will so easily, I don’t think the Townsends would be offering me a million dollars.”
He sighed heavily. “The offer is just a matter of expediency, Miss Doe. With the election coming in the fall, the Townsends want to get this over with as quickly as possible.”
“I bet they do.”
Hearing the mocking tone in her voice, he rested his elbows on his knees and folded his hands, eyes trained on her. “Miss Doe, don’t take this lightly. I’m very good at what I do.”
“I’m sure you are, but to break the will you’ll have to prove Mrs. Townsend wasn’t in her right mind or that I influenced her in some way.”
“There are other approaches I can take. All I have to do is prove Mrs. Townsend felt sorry for you and had a momentary lapse in judgment.”
From the look in her eyes, he knew he was finally getting through to her. Time to go for the jugular—tell her everyone felt sorry for her, call her a nobody, make her cry, watch the tears roll down her face and reinforce that she didn’t have a chance in hell against him and the Townsends. Then tell her to take the money and build a new life. But when he looked at her throat, all he saw was gorgeous creamy skin… He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t break her down. The thought rocked him to the core. What was happening to him? Had Coberville made him soft? Or was it her?
Matthew
