main house.
That horrible night had cost Rachel and Eddie their lives. Kyla barely escaped with Immy from flames that jumped to burn the guesthouse and garage to the ground, too.
Kyla still couldn’t believe it had happened...
A tiny whimper from the crib sent a fresh wave of panic through her right then.
Please stay asleep...
Please, please, please...
Kyla sat frozen and closed her eyes as though, if she pretended she was asleep herself, the tiny baby girl might opt not to disturb her.
She knew that was really dumb. But she was desperate.
When there were no more sounds from the crib after a few minutes, Kyla opened her eyes to mere slits to spy on the infant from a distance and found Immy still asleep.
Thank God...
Kyla breathed again. And felt guilty.
It wasn’t that she didn’t love the adorable baby with her head of wispy copper-colored hair, her enormous blue eyes, her button nose and beautiful Cupid’s-bow mouth. Because she did love her. She loved Immy and had envied Rachel. Especially when holding the baby in her arms had stirred old feelings of Kyla’s own loss that she’d thought were resolved a decade ago.
But the truth was that she wasn’t much more prepared to have a baby now than she had been when she was sixteen.
Only there Immy was, in the crib. All hers now...
Along with the responsibility of managing what Immy had inherited.
A baby. A huge business. What exactly was she supposed to do with either of those things?
Even if she was in tip-top shape, even if she wasn’t banged up and grieving the loss of her cousin, it would still be overwhelming. And she honestly didn’t know if she could do it. Any of it. All of it.
She closed her eyes again, this time in the futile hope that when she opened them she’d be back home in Northbridge, hearing Rachel’s voice on the other end of the phone saying she’d just given birth to Immy...
If she pictured it vividly enough maybe she could turn back time.
The knock on the door startled her and when her eyes shot open again she was, of course, still in the motel room.
Her first thought was that the knock could have disturbed Immy.
Thankfully it hadn’t. Yet.
Her second thought was that they were in a truck-stop motel. Yes, the business had belonged to Immy’s parents and Eddie had talked about striving for high standards in everything about his travel centers, but it still didn’t seem to Kyla like an ideal place for a woman alone with a baby.
And she certainly wasn’t expecting anyone. How could she be, when the only people she knew in Denver now were the few strangers who had offered help since the fire?
She considered ignoring whoever was there and keeping the door safely closed. But she couldn’t risk a second round of those heavy knocks, so she got off the bed as fast as she could and made her way to the window beside the door.
She was careful to only open the drape a crack, just enough for her to peek at whoever was out there before revealing herself.
There were lights in the overhang outside each room’s door, so she could see that there was a man just outside.
A really big man. Tall, broad-shouldered, standing ramrod straight, muscles barely contained by a white polo shirt that stretched tightly over his shoulders and biceps.
He didn’t look like the truckers she’d seen when she’d arrived. This guy was meticulously groomed and there didn’t seem to be a relaxed bone in his impressive body. In fact, between the way he was standing there—almost at attention—and the short cut of his espresso-colored hair, there was something about him that said military.
Military and strikingly handsome.
He had a square brow, deep-set eyes that stared straight ahead at the door, a nose that was a little flat across the bridge and somehow ruggedly distinguished, full, sensuous lips and a jawline that a sculptor’s knife couldn’t have shaped any better.
Good looks—a serial killer’s best asset, Kyla thought.
But as he raised his massive fist to knock a second time she decided she was less afraid of a serial killer than of waking Immy, so she poked her entire head past the curtain, opened the window just a crack and said a hushed, “Can I help you?”
His head alone turned in her direction, giving her a fuller view of his face.
Oh yeah, he was fantastic looking...
Now that he was peering directly at her, she could see that those deep-set eyes were an incredible, intense cobalt blue. A remarkable, unusual blue.
And it was those blue eyes that suddenly sparked familiarity.
“Kyla?” he said.
It couldn’t be...
“Can I help you?” she repeated as she convinced herself that she was imagining things.
“You don’t recognize me?” the man outside said.
“Who are you?” she asked even as she began to think that she knew.
“Beau. Beau Camden,” he said.
Despite confirmation, Kyla stared at him in disbelief.
She couldn’t help wondering if she was hallucinating. She’d refused pain medication because she hadn’t wanted to be impaired in any way when she had to take care of Immy. But she still wondered if something they’d given her in the hospital had come back to haunt her.
That seemed more likely than that Beau Camden could have materialized from the past. At just that moment. And here, of all places.
Yet, as she studied the man outside, she began to see in him small images of the boy she’d once known.
Most definitely in the eyes. Although while the color was the same, the innocence she remembered was lost.
There were also hints of the boy in the features that time had fine-tuned and chiseled, accentuating cheekbones and giving a leaner line to the face that had had more roundness to it fourteen years ago.
At seventeen, Beau Camden had been tall. Maybe not quite as tall as this guy, but close. And his hair had been the same color—though there had been more of it as a teenager that summer.
More hair and far, far smaller muscles...
Still, the longer she looked at him, the easier it was to believe that this was, indeed, Beau Camden.
And with that belief, resentment came back to life.
