The Wrong Man For Her. Kathryn Shay
“I want to apologize for everything in the past. How I behaved.”
He cringed thinking of the last time he’d seen that pretty face of hers; she’d been crying. The last thing he’d heard her say in that husky voice of hers was “You’re leaving because I thought I was pregnant, aren’t you?”
“I’m sorry Maddie,” he repeated.
“Apology accepted. In return, I’d like your promise you won’t bring up our past again. We need to concentrate on helping people here. Are you capable of that? Because if you’re not, this will never work.”
“I’m capable of that,” he returned, offended. “Obviously we’ve both gotten on with our lives.”
“Yes, we have. Best you remember that, Nick.”
“I will, Dr. Walsh.”
Although he wasn’t sure he could…because it was a lie.
Dear Reader,
Welcome to one of my favorite Harlequin Superromance novels. The idea for this story came to me in two parts. Every summer I work at a camp for kids with cancer. Our group meets to wait for the bus at the Crime Victims Resource Center in my hometown. The place is in a beautiful old brick building in the heart of the city, and houses organizations that help the victims of crimes. I thought, “What a great place this is. And there would be so many story lines for a novel.” I couldn’t get the idea out of my mind all year.
So when I finished Tell Me No Lies, which had Nick Logan, the hero’s brother, as a teen counselor, I promptly moved him to Rockford, New York, where his brother relocates, and gave Nick his own story. (No need to read his brother’s book first, though, as this one stands alone.)
The Rockford Crime Victims’ Center, is self-contained, not just a resource center, based on similar national operations. The people at these centers do wonderful work, helping those victimized by crime with the emotional, legal and practical ramifications. Because of my background as a teacher, and my love for helping kids, I made Nick the counselor for teenagers. Their situations are heartbreaking, but very real. And, of course, Nick is able to make great strides with them.
Nick also ends up working with Madelyn, a woman he broke up with three years before. And she’s now his boss. They hate working together, opening old wounds and resurrecting old feelings, but they’ll do anything for kids, which makes them immensely admirable to me. And yes, in the course of helping two troubled teens, Nick and Maddie find a way to overcome their differences and past hurts.
I love to hear from readers. E-mail me at [email protected] or write to me at P.O. Box 24288, Rochester, NY 14624. And please visit my Web site and blog at www.kathrynshay.com, and the Superromance site at www.superauthors.com.
Kathryn Shay
The Wrong Man for Her
Kathryn Shay
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Kathryn Shay is the author of twenty-one Harlequin Superromance books and seven novels and two novellas from the Berkley Publishing Group. She has won several awards. Among them are five Romantic Times BOOKreviews awards, three Holt Medallions, three Desert Quill awards and the Booksellers’ Best Award. A former high school teacher, she lives in upstate New York, where she sets many of her stories.
This book is for people all over the world
who dedicate their lives to helping others.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER ONE
NICK LOGAN SLAMMED on the brakes of his little red Mitsubishi Eclipse. Too late. The front end rammed into the back of the van ahead of him. Damn it! Though he’d only glanced away from the snarl of traffic to check the clock, it had been enough time for the long line of vehicles snaking down Route 390 to come to an abrupt halt.
“Great,” he said, unbuckling the seat belt. “Just great.” He vaulted out of the car and hurried to the driver’s side of the van.
Behind the wheel, a man in a business suit had a cell phone to his ear. The guy said something into the mouthpiece, closed the instrument and stuffed it into his pocket. He finally opened the door and got out. “What the hell did you do?”
Nick refrained from reminding him that using a cell phone while driving in New York State was illegal. “You stopped fast. I hit you. Are you all right?”
“No, I’m not all right.” The man’s face flushed. “I have an important meeting in thirty minutes, and I don’t have time for this.” He pointed to his van. “Or this.” He gestured toward the traffic around them.
“Me, either.” The last thing Nick needed was to be late for his first day on the job. Well, his first day back on the job. He glanced at the two bumpers. “I think I took the brunt of it.”
The man strode to the rear of the van and whistled. “That’s what you get for going foreign. And buying a sports car.”
“Whatever.” Nick hated lectures. “How do you want to handle this?”
“You’ll pay, of course.”
“I mean, do you want to call the police or take care of this privately?”
The driver raised his brows. “Can you afford the cash outlay? The cost of your repair is going to be steep, even if it’s just a crumpled bumper.”
“Probably not.” Nick wasn’t thinking clearly. He’d been up pacing the floor most of the night, worried about returning to his old job after a three-year absence. He whipped out his cell. “I’ll call.”
The guy surveyed the traffic. “They won’t be able to get through.”
“The cops’ll find us.” They always did. Nick knew that from personal experience.
“I…”
The wind picked up around them, along with a fine March drizzle. Oh, man, this just kept getting worse. As he punched in 9-1-1, Nick hoped like hell his lousy morning didn’t foreshadow the rest of the day. At least he’d given himself an hour-and-a-half leeway before his meeting with John. And his good friend would be an understanding boss. Or he used to be, anyway.
It took close to sixty minutes for the police to arrive, deal with the reports and for Nick to exchange information with the other driver. It took another twenty to get out of the heavy traffic, which had worsened because of the accident.
He pulled into the Rockford Crime Victims Center parking lot at nine. His need for haste kept him from succumbing to the memories that swamped him as he took in the old, brick building on Plymouth Avenue. He shoved aside any feelings of nostalgia at being back at the Center, where he’d spent several years doing a job that helped other people and made him feel worthwhile.
It was also the place where he’d fallen in love. Though at the time, he wouldn’t admit it to himself. Or to Maddie. At least she wasn’t working here anymore. He didn’t know where she was