Accidentally Yours. Susan Mallery

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СКАЧАТЬ of that tree, okay? I’m on a Wonder Mom break for the next couple of days.”

      Cody looked up at her. “I will, Mom. See you later.”

      She was supposed to let him go and she would…in a second. But staring into his eyes like that, she was reminded of Cody’s father. Cody was so much like her late husband. It was a unique combination of pleasure and heartbreaking pain.

      “Be good,” she said.

      He nodded and left the salon.

      “DON’T BE STUPID,” Jason Hardy said. “I’m telling you this based on my personal experience as your lawyer. You pay me three hundred dollars an hour for that experience, Nathan. So listen.”

      “I’m listening.”

      “No, you’re not. If you were still listening, you’d be back in the city. Instead you’re driving up I90 by yourself. I don’t want you confronting that woman alone.”

      “That woman” was one Kerri Sullivan. A single mom and hairdresser. Nearly every detail of her insignificant life was listed in the folder next to him on the passenger seat of his Mercedes.

      She’d been an average student in high school, a cheerleader. Her parents had been killed when she’d been fairly young and she’d been raised by her maternal grandmother. She’d gone to community college, but had dropped out after less than a year to go to beauty school. She’d met and married Brian Sullivan. Brian had been in the army and died when his truck had overturned. Eight and a half months later, she’d given birth to her only child.

      Cody Sullivan, age nine. His Gilliar’s Disease had been diagnosed when he’d been five. He’d lived longer than most and was only now entering the truly degenerative stage.

      In the past four years Kerri had lived in Texas and Minnesota. She supported them by working in beauty salons. Her location choices weren’t random. She moved to where the research was being done. She’d run out of options, until she discovered Dr. Abram Wallace’s work in Songwood. She’d moved there three months ago.

      “I won’t let her blackmail me,” he told Jason. The built-in speakerphone in his car picked up his low voice.

      “So what are you going to do? Threaten her? That’s my job, and let me say, for the record, I resent you trying to take the fun out of it.” Jason sighed. “I mean it, Nathan. You’re going to get angry and say some things you shouldn’t.”

      “She thinks she’s trapped me. She thinks I can’t back out because I’ll look bad. Who the hell does she think she is?”

      “A desperate mom?” Jason asked. “You have nothing to say to her.”

      “I’m going to make her stop. No one holds me hostage.”

      “You’re going to make the situation worse. You have a very competent staff. We want to do our job. Let us deal with her. You don’t need any more negative publicity.”

      “I want her ass in jail,” Nathan muttered.

      “Not going to happen. Let’s imagine that headline. She’s got the sympathy factor. I don’t like what she’s doing, either, but let’s be logical.”

      Logic? Nathan wasn’t interested. Whether it was a well thought-out plan or just dumb luck, Kerri Sullivan had gotten plenty of play from her bogus statement. He’d actually been contacted by someone at the research facility in Songwood, asking about the particulars for the donation. They were, she’d informed him, ready to begin hiring. Two other parents of kids with Gilliar’s Disease had also tried to get through to him. Just to thank him, their messages had said.

      “How the hell does one hairdresser get all this done?” he demanded.

      “She’s got balls,” Jason said, a hint of admiration in his voice.

      “Remember whose side you’re on,” Nathan told him.

      “You don’t have to remind me. Being on your side is the reason I’m telling you to turn around and come home. Let me handle her.”

      Nathan grimaced. “You’re breaking up,” he said into the perfectly clear connection. “I’ll call back when I’m on my way down the mountain.”

      “Dammit, Nathan. Don’t you hang up. And don’t do anything either of us will regret.”

      Nathan disconnected the call.

      Thirty minutes later he was in downtown Songwood, letting his GPS system direct him to the Hair Barn. When he found it, he parked and walked directly inside.

      The place was filled with women. Conversation stopped the second the glass door closed behind him. A dozen or so pairs of eyes settled on him, but he ignored everyone except the blonde he remembered from the restaurant.

      Last week he’d been too pissed off to notice anything about her. Now he compared the real, live Kerri Sullivan to the picture in her folder.

      She was fairly average. Blond hair, blue eyes, medium height. Pretty enough, in a corn-fed kind of way. There were a million women just like her in the Midwest, which wasn’t a good thing. If he had her arrested and she got the kind of press coverage he knew she was more than capable of generating, every one of those million women would relate to her. She’d come off as pure as Snow White and he’d be the damned evil stepmother.

      He ignored everyone else in the place and walked directly to her.

      “We have to talk.”

      She paused in the act of sweeping up hair from the floor and glanced at him. “I don’t think so.”

      “Maybe I’m here to tell you what you want to hear.”

      “You look way too angry for that to be true. I’m guessing you want to threaten me. I don’t accept threats during work hours and I’m on the clock for another hour.”

      He swore silently. Jason was right—she had balls. Giant ones.

      “Ms. Sullivan,” he began, aware of every other person in the place listening to their conversation.

      “I said no,” she told him, squaring her shoulders and trying to stare him down. “I make minimum wage plus tips. The fact that you know who I am and where I work tells me that you’ve done your research. That probably included a copy of my last couple of tax returns. You know what I make. I’m a single mom. I can’t afford to miss time off work because you’re in the mood to talk.”

      He wanted to crush her like the insignificant insect she was. But he also respected her ability to negotiate like a pro. Under other circumstances, he might find himself respecting her.

      “Fine,” he said, pulling out his wallet. “How much do you want?”

      “About fifteen million. I thought that was pretty clear.”

      “I meant for our conversation.”

      “I’m not taking your money for that.”

      He glanced around, then returned his attention to her and lowered his voice. “What СКАЧАТЬ