Her Fresh Start Family. Lorraine Beatty
the Author
A warm morning breeze blew a strand of Nina Johnson’s hair across her eyes. She pulled it away, her gaze riveted on the building in front of her. The two-story brick structure had an abundance of windows and a recessed entry that allowed for shade to cover the entrance. It looked fairly new. Had the cabdriver made a mistake and left her at the wrong place? She pulled her phone from her purse and brought up the address. It read 557 E. Warren Avenue. Her spirits sagged. She should never have agreed to come here. But then, where else would she have gone? Kathryn Harvey was her closest friend. She’d been there for her since college, through the marriage and the dark days afterward. When she’d asked her to come down to Hastings, Mississippi, and take over her psychology practice while she and her husband took advantage of a job in Spain for the next few months, she hadn’t been able to refuse. Her position as a corporate psychologist at Duncan and Stone had been eliminated. The call from her friend had been a blessing. Until now.
“Can I help you?”
Nina started at the sound of the deep voice close beside her. She stepped away, glancing at the man. Her gaze lifted until she found his startling green eyes lit with a smile. “No, I’m fine. Thank you.”
“You looked lost.”
The man was inquisitive for a stranger. She moved away a little more. “No, just surprised. The building is so small.” He frowned, and she realized she might have insulted him, so she hastened to explain. “My previous job was in a high-rise. Twentieth floor.”
“Ah. Not too many high-rises around here. But I assure you, this building is big enough to house seven thriving businesses. I should know. One of them is mine.” He held out his hand. “I’m Bret Sinclair.”
With her hands full of her purse, briefcase and a satchel filled with books she thought she might need, she could only stare back at him. She wasn’t used to strange men boldly introducing themselves—and shaking hands was even pushier. He didn’t seem to be the least bit put off by her nonresponse.
“Sorry. Let me help you.”
He took the briefcase from her grasp before she could react.
She had little choice but to introduce herself. “I’m Nina Johnson.” His large hand swallowed hers, wrapping around it with a solid strength that gave her an uneasy feeling, yet she was strangely reluctant to pull her hand away. The stress of the trip down here to Hastings must be getting to her.
A big smile spread across the man’s olive-toned skin, revealing a row of straight white teeth and an angled jawline that was very attractive.
“Kitty’s friend. She told us you’d be filling in for her. Nice to meet you. Let me show you to your office.”
She retrieved her briefcase from the man. “Kitty?”
“Yeah, we all call her that. Kathryn didn’t suit her personality.”
Nina mulled that over as she entered through the door the man held open. When had her friend taken the nickname? But then, she’d allowed their friendship to fade over the last few years, and she’d admittedly been surprised when Kathryn had asked her to take over her practice for a few months. Nina had closed her private practice years ago and gone into corporate psychology. She’d loved it. The job allowed her to help others, while not getting personally involved with patients or becoming emotionally attached. Things she’d vowed to avoid.
The man, Mr. Sinclair, walked briskly toward the end of the hall, and she had a hard time keeping up with him in her four-inch heels. The floor was slippery, too. He was chattering about something, but all she could think of was getting to Kathryn’s office and closing the door.
“Anita owns the Tranquility Spa. She does it all from hair and nails to facials and those crazy body wraps. You’ll have a full-service business when you want to get dolled up.”
Was he suggesting she needed a makeover? She gritted her teeth and tried to keep up. Was he deliberately trying to be offensive? She’d been to a spa once and found it anything but relaxing. She glanced at her host and found him still smiling. His unusual green eyes held a twinkle as he looked down at her. She averted her gaze. Something about the man made her uncomfortable. No doubt his overly solicitous attitude was the source. This Sinclair guy was far too friendly for her liking.
He pushed the button beside the elevator door and waited while she entered first.
“Your office is on the second floor.”
He continued his diatribe, throwing out names and businesses as if she were interested in the other occupants of the building. Stealing a glance at her host, she sorted through her people cubbies to find a good slot in which to file him away. On the surface, he seemed nice enough, but he was trying too hard to be helpful, and that usually meant he’d attempt to insert himself into her life. That was the last thing she wanted. When the elevator opened, she stepped out briskly, hoping he’d