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Early the next morning, Lyn sat in the kitchen, a cup of coffee to her left and a bowl of rough-cut oatmeal on her right. For about the hundredth time so far, her focus strayed to the numerals glowing orange on the stainless-steel microwave. Not quite seven o’clock. Still too early to call Brenda. She tapped a teaspoon against her cup. Tink-tink-tink.
Ginger, curled into a canine comma against the bank of cabinets, jerked up her head.
“Sorry,” Lyn whispered to the greyhound. “Go back to sleep. It’s too early to be awake yet.”
But, of course, Ginger didn’t speak English. All she knew was that the human was up and she was up. Therefore, it must be time for a walk. She unfolded her long legs and stood, then trotted to the utility closet. One glance at Lyn, then a glance at the closed door before she sat and waited. Another glance. More waiting.
Lyn resisted for a full five minutes before the dog’s soulful pleading eyes finally proved too much.
“Well.” She gave an exaggerated sigh and rose slowly to her feet. “It’s not like I can call Brenda yet anyway. Let’s do it, girl.”
As if the dog understood, she leaped to her feet, grin wide and long pink tongue lolling. Lyn strode to the closet to grab the leash. While Ginger pranced around her, she slipped into her coat. With the leash clamped on the dog’s collar, they exited the house.
Dawn tinged the gray eastern sky with ribbons of mauve. Morning temperatures, barely above freezing, made puffy clouds from her breath as Ginger led her in a gallop around the neighborhood. She used the solitude to jumpstart her brain and review her plan. So many variables, so many things that could go wrong. Adrenaline dripped into her veins, tingling her skin and energizing her mind. She’d make this work, cover every angle, face the challenge, take the chance.
When they returned to the townhouse, Lyn hung up her coat and stowed the leash, then strode into the kitchen. And paused in front of the microwave. The clock glowed 8:58 am. Really? They’d been gone for an hour? Apparently, she’d been so absorbed in her thoughts, she’d completely lost track of time.
The upside? She could now call Brenda. After fixing a fresh cup of coffee for caffeinated fortitude, she picked up the cell phone, found Brenda in the contact list—not too difficult since she was the only number listed—and hit the green phone button to connect her call. Two rings went by.
“Thank you for calling Rainey-Day-Wife. How can I make your burden easier today?”
Easier? Hardly. Lyn’s burden was about to become Herculean.
“Brenda? It’s Lyn. Brooklyn. April’s sister?” God, she sounded like a moron. “Mrs. Snow, I mean...” No. “Lyn.”
“Lyn? Everything okay?”
“Yeah.” For the next three seconds or so. After that, well, the jury was out. She swallowed her fear and plowed on. “I’ve been thinking, and I know this is last-minute. I hope it’s okay. But...” The words came out in a rush. “Iwanttogohome.”
Brenda sucked in a breath sharp enough to pierce Lyn’s eardrum. “Oh, sweetie, I’m not sure that’s such a good idea. I mean, April’s doing a great job of keeping the press occupied, but the reporters are still hanging around outside your inn. You show up now—”
“I show up now, and they’re going to have to deal with me.” The words came out strong and sure. You go, girl. “Bren, I know April told you to take care of me and, honestly, I’m grateful. But it’s time for me to stop hiding. From the press, from life.”
From love. But she kept that last one to herself.
“The only thing that worries me is that I know this totally screws you up with Ginger, and I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Brenda replied with a chuckle. “Ginger’s regular caregiver will be thrilled to have her back. But I’m going to ask you this once more. Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Looks like I owe your sister ten bucks.”
Lyn traced a finger in the gray-swirled pattern of the marble tabletop. “What do you mean?”
“She said love would wake you up. She’s right, isn’t she? You’re in love?”
A thrill raced through her blood. Love. Was it really love? This fuzzy, upside-down feeling? The reason her thoughts flew to Doug a thousand times a day? The eagerness to see him, touch him, to simply be near him? Oh, sure, she’d toyed with the word for days now, but hearing it said aloud by someone else gave it a whole lot more impact.
“Yes.”
“Hooray! Go get him, Lynnie. You deserve your happiness. But be careful. Keep the cell phone with you. Same rules apply there as they do here. If you need anything, call. Even from miles away, I’ve been known to work a miracle or two in my time.”
Maybe. But this miracle, Lyn had to achieve on her own.
♥
LYN DROVE UP THE LONG, winding driveway that led to Snowed Inn. Butterflies danced in her stomach, only partly due to the proliferation of news vans parked along the side of the road. She counted two local, two national, and one cable entertainment network among the chaos. Another reason for her flutters came from a more pleasant source, the rush of the unknown.
She’d faced down a lot of challengers in her day, but today she intended to slay the beast and win her prince. If he’d let her.
She pulled into the parking area and turned off the engine. The minute she stepped out of the car, the horde surged forward. Lights flashed and microphones popped up in her face from every angle.
“Brooklyn! Where’ve you been?”
“Brooklyn, is it true you’re having an affair with Ace Riordan?”
“Did you and April have a fight? Is that why she left so suddenly?”
“Just a few words, Brooklyn, please? For the fans?”
She ignored them all, holding her arm out straight to keep them a fair distance away as she sped to her front porch. Reaching the door with the cranberry wreath, she quickly turned the handle. Nothing happened.
Locked. And she had no keys with her.
“You could try knocking,” a man in the crowd suggested. “But no one’s answered in days.”
Guffaws of laughter erupted from the throng while heat scalded Lyn’s cheeks. Okay, don’t panic. On a sharp intake of breath, she fisted her hand, prepared to knock.
The door slipped open a sliver, and Mrs. Bascomb’s eyeball appeared. “Lyn. Thank God. Hurry. Get inside before these vultures start squawking.”
“They’re already squawking.” Lyn slipped inside through the miniscule crack Mrs. B. had opened, then quickly shut and locked the door again. Pausing by the small round table with the pot of African violets, she removed her gloves.
Home. She breathed in the scents of cinnamon and cider, a hint of wood smoke. Each bit of familiarity strengthened her resolve, helped assure her of victory. She could do this.
“Thank goodness that nice Brenda called me to say you were on your way home. I’ve been watching for you for hours now. Where did you go? And why are you back so soon?”
“Later,” Lyn said with dismissive wave of her hand. “Right now, I have to make a phone call.”
“Yes, but before you do—”
“Later,” Lyn repeated, slapping her leather gloves on the tabletop with force. “This is important.”
“But you should know—”
One fierce look and Mrs. Bascomb backed down. Thank God. Because Lyn was fired up enough to incinerate.
Without removing her coat or hat, she sped straight to the phone in the sitting room and punched in the number for information. Anxiety kept her hopping, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. When the operator gave her the option, she chose to splurge on the extra twenty-five cents to have the call connected for her automatically, rather than risk misdialing, thanks to her jittery nerves.
The silence seemed to go on for several minutes but was probably mere seconds before the phone clicked and the ringing began.
She barely allowed the receptionist to utter the complex’s name before she blurted, “Douglas Sawyer’s room, please.”
“One moment, please,” the receptionist intoned, then clicked her to the annoying music on hold.
An updated version of Quando, Quando, Quando. Tell me, when will you be mine? How fitting.
“Lyn.” Like a mosquito in the dark, Mrs. Bascomb buzzed around her again. “I think you should know—”
Oh, for heaven’s sake. She turned her back on the old woman. Rude, but so were Mrs. B.’s continued interruptions. She needed no distractions right now. Not when she was about to take this giant leap of faith.
With a click, the receptionist came back on the phone. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but Mr. Sawyer checked out a few days ago.”
“Oh.” Excitement drained from her in a flood. She sank to the floor, her back braced against the wall to keep from crumpling in a heap. “My mistake. Thank you.”
Oh, God. Too late. She’d missed him. Desolation swept over her. Folding her still-jacketed arms over her head, she curled into a ball.
Okay, deep breaths, Lyn. This isn’t the end of the race; it’s just a mogul field. You can regroup. You’ll call Ace. Get Doug’s number. You can still make this work.
“Lyn?” His voice reached through her protective shell, and she jerked up to see him kneeling beside her, those marvelous eyes shining with concern. “You okay?”
“Doug?” She blinked.
It couldn’t be. People didn’t just magically appear because you wished them to. But he was real. He really was here.
She struggled to rise, her legs shaking too violently to complete the effort.
Until Doug reached a hand to help.
His right hand, she noted. Joy overwhelmed her, and she flung her arms around his neck. The thick padding of her ski jacket prevented the closeness she craved, but other concerns took priority at the moment.
“What are you doing here?”
He shrugged as he released her. “I checked out of the condo at Andiron.”
“Because of what I said at Richie’s?” Guilt warmed her cheeks, and she cast her gaze to the floor. “Oh, God, Doug. I’m sorry. I couldn’t be more sorry.”
“Don’t be. You were right.”
Her jaw dropped. “I was?”
“Yeah. Look, why don’t you take off your coat and hat? Eleanor can get us some hot cider and cookies—she says you like that in the afternoon. The cider’s a bit sweet for me, but if it makes you happy, I’m willing to drink cider. Personally, I’d prefer a beer, but whatever. The cookies are pretty good though—not with beer, of course. Unless they’re spicy. Gerta made gingersnaps yesterday. I haven’t had those since I was a kid. It’s no wonder your inn is so popular. A person could get spoiled by your staff.”
Her head spun while she tried to keep up with his rambling. Who knew April wasn’t the only person in her orbit who tended to babble when nervous? Was he nervous? Because of her? God knew her own fears and insecurities were building to a crescendo right now. Jeez, now she was rambling!
To stop them both, she grabbed him by the arms. “Let’s take a minute. Breathe. Slow down. I’m still trying to get used to the idea you’re in my inn.”
“If you’d let me get a word in,” Mrs. Bascomb harrumphed from the doorway. “I would have told you he’s been staying here since you took off.”
She veered her attention from Doug to Mrs. Bascomb and then back to Doug. “You have?”
“Well, yeah. I mean, where else would I go? I knew eventually you’d come back, and I didn’t want to be in New York when you returned home. I’ve got a lot I need to say, and it’s not stuff I want to talk about over the phone or have to drive six hours first to see you again, especially since I’m not a hundred percent agile with this prosthesis yet—”
“Enough!”
Lyn flinched at Mrs. Bascomb’s outburst. She’d never before heard the woman raise her voice.
“Lyn,” she directed with the cadence of a drill sergeant, “take off your coat, and you two can sit in the parlor like civilized people and talk word salads over each other as much as you like. Okay?”
“Okay,” they said in unison.
After pulling her wool cap off her head, she unzipped her jacket. Rather than waste time and risk losing contact with Doug, she quickly peeled off her outer garments and tossed them onto the Queen Anne chair near the phone. “All set.”
Taking Doug’s hand, she pulled him into the parlor at a near run.
He laughed. “Easy, Lyn, slow down. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Yeah, well I’m not willing to take that chance.”
“Oh?” He stopped and looked down at her, eyes narrowed in scrutiny. “And what brought about this change?”
“Later.” To prompt him to continue, she perched in the loveseat near the fireplace, patted the empty cushion beside her. “You go first. How did you wind up here?”
Following her lead, he sat. “Well, like I said, I couldn’t stay at the Andiron. I mean, I could’ve but I didn’t want to.”
She held up a hand to stem his tide of words from flowing again. “But what about Ski-Hab? You didn’t finish the program.”
“I’m still in it. I do my workouts in the morning and ski in the afternoon. Sometimes, the staff lets me take a final run of the day on my own after the lifts are closed to the public. I’ve heard someone I know finds that therapeutic, and if I hope to spend more time with her, I should probably get used to it. But I had an article to write first.”
“About that—”
“Later.” He took her fingers, squeezed them, then dropped their linked hands between them. “I’m first, remember? So, anyway I needed to continue research for my article. And all my research was best done here, where the main characters lived. After I checked out of the Andiron, I asked my cab driver for the name of the best inn in town. He brought me to Snowed Inn, of course.”
Relaxing against him, she smirked. “Don’t tell me. Let me guess. Larry?”
He wrapped his left arm around her, holding her close. “Is he the only cab driver in town?”
“Believe it or not, no.” She snuggled into his embrace while the fire and his presence warmed her. “But if the fare has anything to do with me, Larry makes himself available. And since he knows you’re sweet on me...” She lifted an eyebrow in Doug’s direction.
“Sweet on you, huh? That’s what this feeling is?”
Embarrassment heated her cheeks. “Would that be such a bad thing?”
His fingers propped up her chin, and his gaze locked on her face. “If I thought that, I wouldn’t be here now.” He traced a finger down her jawline, softly, gently. “I didn’t want to wait an extra minute to see you again.”
A thrill rippled through her. “I read your article. It’s one of the reasons I came back.”
The finger paused at the tender skin behind her earlobe. “Oh?”
“Yes. I was thinking that maybe...” Her courage faltered, and she stared into the dancing flames in the fireplace.
“Maybe...?” he prompted.
“I thought, maybe, you might want to write another article. This time, about me.”
“No, I don’t think so.”
She sat up, stared at him aghast. “No? Why on earth not?”
“If you really want to do an interview,” he said on a sigh, “I can put you in touch with a friend of mine. She’s good, honest, and she’ll treat you right.”
Panic set in, raising the fine hairs on her nape. “No. It has to be you, Doug.”
“I’m sorry, Lyn. But I don’t do fluff pieces.”
She stiffened. “Fluff pieces? Since when am I a fluff piece?”
“Well, I admit, when I first found out you were Brooklyn Raine, I thought you’d make a great story. But after you left last week, I had the time and distance I needed to reconsider. And I realized you weren’t the story after all.”
“You’re kidding, right?” She pulled out of his embrace to look into his face, seeking some hint he teased her. “This is a joke?”
“No joke. This is going to sound egotistical, and I apologize in advance for that. But the fact is that I was the story. I’d been avoiding facing that truth all the while. I kept telling myself I had no right to talk about Giles Markham’s death, that no one really wanted to hear about the horrors of so-called global conflict, which is just a sanitized way to say ‘war.’ Your absence forced me to refocus. And I realized I’d never shied away from a sensitive subject before. I only did so this time because this event occurred to me. I didn’t want to open myself up to that level of scrutiny for the entertainment of the masses. There’s so much pain tied up in what I went through...”
She frowned. “It’s not so easy when you’re on the other side of the news, is it?”
“No.” He grimaced. “You and Ace were right about that. But I realized I had an obligation to tell the world about what happened to Giles Markham. And what happened to me. Since I’m the lone survivor, I’m the only one who could do the story justice. It fell on me to make sure the facts came out, not some fable or exaggerated version of the truth. So, I manned up and wrote the story that needed to be told.”
“I know.” She took his hand, squeezed reassuringly. “I read your article. I read all your articles.”
“Then you already know I don’t do fluff pieces.”
While her cheeks grew scalding hot, she stamped her foot. “I’m not a fluff piece. If I were just a fluff piece, all those reporters wouldn’t still be outside my door.”
“Those reporters are still outside your door precisely because they think you’re a fluff piece. A quick name-drop that will bring in clicks online, entice readers and viewers to visit their websites for a few minutes, where they sell high-dollar advertisements. By the next day, two at best, you’re old news again. That’s all they see in you—revenue. Now if someone were to ask me, I’d say I see an amazing woman with an incredible amount of courage and integrity. But there isn’t a story there. Not for them.” He pointed out the window. “Ten years ago, you were a story for them. Now, you’re just an amusing satellite in your sister’s celebrity universe. And I won’t let anyone use you in such a degrading manner. Not even me.”
He was right. Still, she offered him a mock wince. “Ouch. That’s a blow my ego could have done without.”
“I’ll be happy to kiss your ego and make it all better,” he replied.
She snuggled against him, sighed with sheer contentment. “Just being here with you makes everything better.” Looking up into his eyes, she sobered. “But I really wanted you to interview me.”
He shook his head. “Lyn, you don’t have to do an interview. You don’t have to prove anything to anyone. Least of all to me.”
“Yes, I do.” Emotions swirled high, and tears spilled from her eyes. “This is my missing arm. Lorenzo Akers and his ilk are my incendiary device. Thanks to the damage they inflicted, I’ve been hiding from life, hiding from love. I don’t want to hide anymore.”
“Then don’t hide. Take my hand and walk in the sunlight. Even if that sunlight comes from a thousand flash bulbs. The idiots outside have no idea who you really are. How incredible and generous and brave you are. The people in this town know. Your family knows. Who cares what those vultures outside think? Those who truly know you love you. I love you, Lyn. When I was a kid, Brooklyn Raine was my dream girl. Now that I’m older and wiser, Lyn Hill is my reality woman. My future. The person who makes getting up worthwhile, whether it’s in bed every morning or on the ski slope. I hope that’s enough for you.”
“It’s more than enough. I love you, too.” She looked into his eyes, saw the promise shining there. “You’ll stay beside me?”
“Always.” He pulled her close again, kissed her softly on the lips. “No matter how many times you try to push me away.”
She sighed. He’d probably never let her forget how they first met. That was okay. They’d have years ahead to make new memories.
She’d see to it.
Dear Reader,
Welcome back to the Nobody series! Whether you’re also reconnecting with my sisters series or coming in as a new reader, I hope you enjoyed NOBODY’S BUSINESS. Don’t forget to grab the next book, NOBODY’S PERFECT, and if you haven’t already done so, be sure to check out April’s adventure in NOBODY’S DARLING to get the full story and all the romance!
Now that you’ve finished the book, please consider leaving a review at your favorite retail site. A simple sentence such as, “I liked it” does wonders for authors like me, who rely on our readers’ support to continue writing and making our work available. Word of mouth also helps, so please share the book with friends, family, and other readers. Ask your library to carry the series so others can enjoy, as well!
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Thank you so much for your continued support of my work. You’ll never know how much I appreciate you!
Until next time, may your life be filled with great love and raucous laughter!
Fondly,
Gina
THE SETQUOTT BEACH ROMANCE SERIES
That’s Amoré!
A Run for the Money
The Bonds of Matri-money
♦
THE AFTERLIFE SERIES
Eternally Yours
In Your Dreams
Waiting in the Wings
♦
THE CALENDAR GIRLS HOLIDAY NOVELLAS
Charming for Mother’s Day
Detour for New Year’s Day
Fortune for St. Patrick’s Day
Daring for Christmas Day
♦
THE CALENDAR GIRLS SERIES
Duet in September
Reunion in October
Homecoming in November
Memories in December
♦
OSPREY COVE PETS SERIES
Even Now
Twilight Time
♦
THE NOBODY SERIES
Nobody’s Darling
Nobody’s Business
Nobody’s Perfect
♦
STANDALONE STORIES
A Love to Keep Me Warm
Lightning in a Bottle
Echoes of Love
Chasing Adonis
Duping Cupid
♦
ANTHOLOGIES
Kaleidoscope Hearts 2
Kaleidoscope Hearts 3
Kaleidoscope Hearts 5
Caught Under the Mistletoe
Imperfect Date
Legend of Gods