Accidentally Yours. Susan Mallery

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СКАЧАТЬ FINISHING his breakfast, Nathan King put down the Wall Street Journal and opened the folder of clippings that had been left with his paper. Every morning he reviewed what the newspapers had said about him the previous day.

      In his current battle for zoning and funding, press reports were a necessary evil.

      He flipped through copies of articles about his various businesses, an op-ed piece on the horrors of luxury high-rise construction, a short report on the wire about his plans to contribute fifteen million toward research on Gilliar’s Disease and an interview with a pro-environment reporter who had twisted his every response to make him sound both cruel and stupid. If they—

      He carefully set his coffee on the table, then flipped back to the previous page.

      There weren’t many details. Just a statement about the donation and a couple of sentences that research would resume at the facility in Songwood, Washington.

      Nathan already had out his cell phone. He hit the speed dial for Jason Hardy.

      “You’re getting an early start,” Jason said when he answered. “What’s up?”

      “Someone is trying to blackmail me into giving her fifteen million dollars.”

      “What? Who?”

      “I don’t know her name. Some psychotic waitress who ambushed me at lunch last week. She wants me to donate to some cause.” There was no point in telling Jason what cause. Nathan never discussed his son’s illness and subsequent death with anyone. Not even his closest friend and attorney. “She even tried bribing my chauffeur to get to me. She’s crazy. I want her stopped.”

      “And people think being incredibly rich is trouble free,” Jason said easily. “Was she working at The Grill?”

      “As a server. A bad one.”

      “I’ll start there. Give me until the end of the day and I’ll get you a full profile. So how’s she blackmailing you?”

      “She issued a press release on our letterhead saying that I would personally be donating the money to some research facility in Songwood.”

      “The money goes there rather than to her?” Jason asked.

      “She’s got a sick kid. The head guy there is working on the kid’s disease. She wants a miracle.”

      “Well, sure. Is it fatal?”

      Nathan refused to think about the slow and painful death that claimed children with Gilliar’s Disease. “Is that compassion I hear in your voice?”

      Jason chuckled. “Sorry. I forgot myself. You’d think law school would have beaten that out of me. I’ll call you later.”

      THE HAIR BARN WAS like any one of a thousand small-town beauty salons. It was bright, cheerful, and the source of all the local gossip.

      As Kerri wove the pointed end of her comb through Amber Whitney’s dark blond hair, she listened carefully to the talk all around.

      “My Frank says they’ll have to hire at least fifty new scientists,” Millie of the dry cleaning store was saying. “That will take some time. But they’re going to be well paid, so if you want to sell, this is the time. All those research people will need housing. Sure, a few of them will live in Seattle or North Bend and drive up the mountain, but plenty will settle here.” She sighed. “It’ll be like it was, when the town was thriving. It’s good for business.”

      “I wonder how many other people they’ll be hiring,” Millie’s friend said. “Secretaries, janitorial staff, office workers. Maybe some basic lab techs. My Denny would much rather work there than go back to logging.”

      The town buzzed with news of the donation. It was all anyone had talked about ever since the press release had hit the wire. Kerri swallowed back the knot of guilt in her throat and kept weaving Amber’s hair.

      Lying to the town was a repercussion she hadn’t thought through. Everyone was so excited by the prospect of the lab opening up again.

      She didn’t want to hurt these people. She didn’t want to hurt anyone. She’d been so intent on simply getting the funding for Dr. Wallace that she hadn’t considered there were other lives on the line. If Nathan King didn’t come through…

      He had to, she reminded herself. Just that morning there’d been an article in the Seattle paper about how Nathan’s charity work should be considered when it came to giving him the zoning he wanted. If he was exposed as a man who went back on his word, maybe he wouldn’t get his towers. Of course, if she were exposed as a liar and a fraud, he might get the sympathy vote.

      “Hey, Mom.”

      She turned and saw Cody at the front of the salon. Most days she tried to be done before he got out of school, but Thursdays she worked late.

      “Hey, kiddo. How was your day?”

      “Okay.”

      Cody balanced on his crutches. Kerri was pleased to see that the new style, with the bracing around his forearm, seemed to be helping his balance. That and the fact that she’d finally cleaned out his backpack. It had gotten so heavy, she’d been afraid he would fall on his back like a turtle and be unable to get up.

      “Be right back,” Kerri told Amber, then crossed to her son.

      Cody was on the short side for his age group—not a surprise, considering his condition—but smart, with that emotionally mature edge sick kids seem to get. At nine, he’d reached the point where he was uncomfortable being kissed by his mom in public. Kerri had yet to reach the point where she didn’t care.

      “Math test,” she said as she pulled him close and dropped a quick kiss on the top of his head. “Tell me you kicked fraction butt.”

      “They’re all totally kicked,” he said as he squirmed away, then smiled at her. “I missed one.”

      “One? One? Oh, man. I have to disown you now.”

      “Leave me on the curb for some stranger to take me away?” he asked with a grin.

      “Absolutely. Someone who doesn’t care about kids who aren’t perfect. You missed one. I may never recover from the disappointment.”

      “Spaghetti with garlic bread.”

      She opened her eyes wide. “Excuse me? Young men who miss one question on their math tests do not get to demand things like spaghetti with garlic bread for dinner.”

      “It was an A, Mom. You know missing one is still an A.”

      “Are you kidding? An A? What is this world coming to? I’m appalled. And you know how I get when I’m appalled.”

      She reached for him. He ducked away, but the crutches hindered him. Kerri dove in and began tickling him. She was careful to stay away from his ribs. Like all his bones, they were fragile.

      He giggled and squirmed, then relaxed in her arms.

      “I’ll make spaghetti,” СКАЧАТЬ