The Hidden Years. Susan Kearney

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      What the hell was she doing in Half Moon Bay? In his driveway?

      Jake Cochran stared at the monitor that exhibited his front gate, a convertible driving through, a woman behind the wheel.

      Cassidy Atkins.

      It might have been ten years since he’d seen her last, but he hadn’t forgotten that tawny skin or the lion’s mane of multicolored gold that framed her face. It might have been more than a decade, but a warm glow of happiness started in his gut and radiated outward before he bottled it up. Ten years hadn’t quite banished memories of the pain she’d caused.

      Jake was no longer that vulnerable kid, but he could no more resist staring at Cassidy now than he could a decade ago. As she parked her red convertible, he hit a camera switch to zoom in on her. Cassidy smoothed her shoulder-length hair into a pony-tail, freshened her lipstick and reached for her compact. Then, with an impatient gesture, she tucked the unused compact back into her purse.

      Interesting. So he rated lipstick but not blush. A visit but no warning phone call. Apparently Cassidy’s impulsive and spontaneous nature hadn’t changed over the years.

      Cassidy gracefully exited the car, reached into the back seat and removed a box. Hip-hugging jeans encased her long legs and rounded hips. A crop top showed a smudge or two of dust as if she’d been working and impulsively decided to stop and pay him a visit. The girl he remembered might be unpredictable, but she usually had good reasons for her actions. And Jake guessed she hadn’t phoned first because she was afraid he might refuse to see her.

      Was she in some kind of trouble and in need of his help?

      He frowned in puzzlement as Cassidy carried the carton toward his front door. It didn’t take his detective skills to figure out that the reason behind her visit might be somehow connected to the box’s contents. However, she couldn’t be returning something he’d left behind, since ten years ago he hadn’t owned enough possessions to fill that box. Back then, just out of high school and a state orphanage, he’d barely had a change of clothes. Yet his limited circumstances hadn’t stopped him from foolishly dreaming of a future with Cassidy.

      Jake had found out soon enough that Cassidy’s father, Frazier Atkins, had bigger plans for his daughter than a relationship with Jake Cochran. Frazier’s high expectations for his daughter included college, law school and eventually a husband from the same upper middle-class background as her own. And according to her father’s plan, she was now well on her way to success. With only twenty miles between their respective homes on Florida’s Gulf coast, Jake occasionally caught news of Cassidy and knew she’d earned her law degree and set up practice with her father in Crescent Cove.

      Jake angled the camera lens onto her left hand. Ha! No wedding ring. Another zing of pleasure sneaked over him before he flicked off the camera and headed downstairs to meet the girl he’d never been able to forget.

      Before she rang the bell, he opened the door and caught the breathless look of surprise in widened eyes still as blue as Tampa’s sky. But not quite as joyous and exuberant as he remembered. These blue eyes couldn’t quite hold his gaze and reflected a bit of indecision, along with a sophistication that quickly covered the flash of uncertainty he’d first glimpsed.

      Nevertheless he enjoyed drinking in the sight of her upturned face, which glowed with a healthy tan. He lingered over the straight nose, the delicately arched brows, the heart-shaped cheeks that she’d always wished were high and sharp like a model’s, instead of impishly round, matching her personality.

      “Hi, Sunshine.” He used his old pet name for her without thinking, his voice slightly huskier than he would have liked.

      Cassidy’s full lips turned up in a crooked smile, but uncertainty again flickered in her eyes. “Jake.”

      He opened the door, feeling a measure of both pleasure and wariness at seeing her again but mostly wondering what caused the shadows in her eyes. “Come in.”

      She took in the trappings of his success—the soaring ceiling of his foyer, the marble floors and designer wallpaper—without the least bit of surprise. Almost as if she’d expected his prosperity. Had she kept track of him? Jake thought not. Why would she?

      Obviously worried, she clutched that box so hard her fingernails dug into the cardboard and left tiny crescent indentations. Over the years Jake had become good at reading strangers who came to his detective agency seeking his help. His experience as a detective told him she had something unpleasant to tell him. His experience as a man told him this was a nervous woman.

      Yet Jake wasn’t just operating with his powers of observation or by instinct alone. Cassidy was no stranger. Impulsive, spontaneous, giving, she liked to go with the flow, live day to day. She kept her long-term goals in sight, but her free-spirited nature ruled her most of the time. This wasn’t one of those times. Today she was serious. She had a way of angling her chin whenever she was uncertain. She had it tipped at that angle now as she glanced at him.

      He led her past his office into the room that overlooked Tampa Bay. Perhaps the soft cries of gulls and the salty breeze would soothe her nerves. Gingerly she placed the box on the glass table as if fearing it would break, then dusted off her hands.

      “Can I get you something to drink?” he offered as he gestured to a chair for her to have a seat. “Iced tea? Water? A cola?”

      “No, thanks.”

      Jake waited. He’d learned to be patient, learned that when someone wanted to tell him something, it was usually best to let them come to it in their own way.

      Cassidy took in a deep breath of air, then let it out slowly and rolled her shoulders. Slowly she raised those sea-blue eyes to his. “My father died last year.”

      “I heard. And I’m sorry. For your sake.”

      He folded his arms over his chest, refusing to be hypocritical. He’d never liked Frazier Atkins. Ten years ago Jake had known the man disapproved of him, a boy with no family. No past. And probably not much of a future. But Jake had succeeded, throwing his efforts into his detective agency with a determination that had left no room for failure.

      While Jake might have found security, he suspected mere financial success wouldn’t have been enough for Frazier Atkins. The prominent attorney had wanted a better match for his only daughter than a kid from the wrong side of town. While Jake had acquired a veneer of sophistication along the way to success, he lacked the Old World charm that took several generations to acquire. Quite simply, in Frazier’s eyes, Jake could never have been good enough to even wipe the dirt off Cassidy’s sneakers. And he’d coolly made his point to his daughter—not by arguing, but by fighting a battle Jake couldn’t win. Frazier had sent her out West to college. He’d put a distance between them that a boy with barely enough funds to feed himself couldn’t overcome.

      He’d always hoped Cassidy would call, visit him during spring break, but it hadn’t happened. She’d accepted her father’s wishes and hadn’t looked back.

      And through his scheming, Frazier had remained polite, cool and secretive toward Jake. But Jake had always suspected that Cassidy’s father had known more about Jake’s past than he’d been willing to admit. Yet Jake had no more been able to prove that the wily attorney had been holding out on him than he had been able to prove to Cassidy that her father had sent her away to separate her from the wrong kind of boy.

      Cassidy pushed the box toward Jake. “I took over Dad’s law practice and found СКАЧАТЬ