“Mikala.” His voice was husky, almost raw.

She knew what he wanted. But he wouldn’t take it, not unless she gave the signal she was willing. They both remembered prom night. They both remembered the other kisses they’d shared. She could see the need in his eyes, feel it in the tension that crackled in the air between them.

She leaned toward him, ever so slightly. His arm came around her. When she turned toward him, her leg brushed his. His face was so close, his lips simply a whisper away.

She could still pull back. She didn’t have to let this happen. But she suddenly wanted Dawson’s kiss more than she’d ever wanted anything in her life.

Dear Reader,

I remember the first time a boy asked me to dance, the color and softness of his sweater, the step into a closeness I’d never experienced before. Becoming lost in the music while being held is an experience like no other.

My heroine, Mikala, danced with Dawson at her prom and the night of the reunion. Music has become her life. A music therapist, Mikala helps children who need her. Dawson’s son needs her. Although she and Dawson haven’t seen each other for fifteen years, their high school reunion brings back the past—the night Dawson became her white knight. Mikala falls deeply in love with him, but can the music in her heart help him heal his own past hurts so they can find a future together?

The CEO’s Unexpected Proposal is the third book in my REUNION BRIDES series. I hope this romance touches your heart the way it touched mine.

All my best,

Karen Rose Smith

About the Author

KAREN ROSE SMITH is an award-winning, bestselling novelist of over seventy published romances. Her latest series, REUNION BRIDES, is set near Flagstaff, Arizona, in Miners Bluff, the fictional town she created. After visiting Flagstaff, the Grand Canyon and Sedona, she felt that the scenery was so awe-inspiring that she had to set books there. When not writing, she likes to garden, growing herbs, vegetables and flowers. She lives with her husband—her college sweetheart—and their two cats in Pennsylvania. Readers may e-mail her through her website at www.karenrosesmith.com, follow her on Facebook or Twitter @karenrosesmith, or write to her at PO Box 1545, Hanover, PA 17331, USA.

The CEO’s
Unexpected
Proposal
Karen Rose Smith

www.millsandboon.co.uk

In memory of my mother, Romaine Arcuri Cacciola,

who gave me my love of music. I miss you.

Prologue

July Fifteenth Year High School Reunion

Her heart racing, Mikala Conti watched as Dawson Barrett crossed the cafeteria floor and extended his hand.

“Would you like to dance?”

She hadn’t seen him for fifteen years. The blue-and-yellow streamers decorating the ceiling and the spinning silver mirror ball faded away as she remembered catching glimpses of him in this cafeteria so many years ago. Memories sifted around her, like the reflective silver light. One stood out—prom night—and the way Dawson had rescued her from a terrible situation.

“It’s been a long time,” she said, shaking off the flash from the past as she took his hand and rose to her feet.

He guided her a short distance away to a free spot on the tiled floor and took her into his arms.

Mikala felt breathless—sort of light-headed—and she knew she had to get a grip. She wasn’t like this. She was never giddy or impulsive or even daring. But as Dawson’s hand skimmed across her back under her long, wavy black hair, as it came to rest on the silky fabric of her sedate yet dressy black dress, she couldn’t seem to control any of her body’s reactions.

He seemed to enjoy the moment, too. When she gazed up into his eyes she remembered the boy he’d been and realized what an absolutely sexy man he’d become. They danced together as if they had done it more than once before. His green eyes didn’t reflect all the years between then and now. They reflected a bond they’d once had.

But then he said—

“I didn’t come tonight just for old times’ sake. I needed to talk to you. I know you’re a music therapist. My son needs your help. Will you consider taking him on as a patient?”

Remembering again the night of her prom, Mikala knew she’d do anything she could to help Dawson.

For old times’ sake.

Chapter One

January

Mikala checked the music-note-shaped wall clock, her heart pounding faster with each passing minute. Her studio, a two-room cabinlike structure in the backyard of the Purple Pansy Bed-and-Breakfast, was her second home. Growing up, she’d wrapped herself in music—listening to it, playing it, getting lost in the emotion of it—whenever life got complicated.

Now Dawson Barrett wanted her to use music to help his son.

Last summer they’d reconnected at their high school reunion. Then before Christmas Dawson had called and confirmed he’d be moving back to Miners Bluff and putting Luke under her care.

The cabin’s chiming doorbell melodically announced Dawson’s arrival. He’d said he’d be here at one-thirty, and it was one-thirty on the dot. She’d dressed with more care than usual, wearing a deep purple cowl-neck sweater over gray slacks. Smoothing her hands down over her hips, she took a deep breath and pushed her long, black hair over one shoulder.

When she opened the door, the January wind swept in. Right away she noticed the deep lines around Dawson’s eyes, a furrow in his brow and fatigue on his face. His sandy brown hair was windswept and his leather jacket was zipped tight against the cold.

Their dance last summer was vivid in her mind—the way he’d held her, the way her heart had fluttered madly. Also still vivid were memories that went farther back—prom night, how he’d given her the ability to dream.

But then he’d left without a word. And all these years she’d wondered about him and the life he’d found, even though she’d heard rumors that he’d been widowed, was a wealthy CEO and a success in the field of construction.

“Come in!” She motioned to the office area of her studio, thinking Dawson looked as if he needed to get warm.

“I cut it a little close.” He gave her one of those smiles that had always affected something deep inside of her. “You said on the phone you had an appointment to meet with the principal at the elementary school at three-thirty.”

“I do, and none too soon.”

She felt an urgency about Dawson now that hadn’t been in his voice when they’d spoken before. “Did something happen?”

“Luke tried to run away.”

“Oh, Dawson. Let’s sit.”

Besides her mahogany desk, there was a cranberry-colored corduroy love seat and two camel leather club chairs. They gravitated to the love seat as Dawson unzipped his jacket and shrugged out of it. She couldn’t help but notice the breadth of his shoulders in his navy sweater, the way his jeans hugged his slim hips and long legs.

This was Dawson, she told herself sternly. He was a friend who needed her help.

Memories from high school came rushing back—poring over algebra in the library with him, catching a ride home in his yellow Mustang, talking with their friends around the kitchen table at the B and B the night of the prom.

Shoving any thoughts but those of his ten-year-old son aside, she suggested, “Tell me what happened.”

He tossed his jacket over a chair and lowered himself to the love seat beside her. After taking in his surroundings in a glance, peering into the music room with its sofa, folding chairs, instruments—the piano front and center—Dawson brought his gaze back to hers. “Luke’s class has been exploring the benefits of computers as far as exchanging information with other schools. They partnered with a school in Kentucky and Luke made an online friend. When he tried to run away, he almost hopped a bus to Kentucky where Jared lives.”

She could hardly imagine the scare Dawson had experienced with Luke trying to run away. Longing to be a parent herself, the past few years she’d considered registering with an adoption agency. If she was a mom, the idea of a child being lost out in the world would be terrifying.

Dawson raked his hand through his hair. “I’d been working in my home office, and I didn’t even know he was gone. Another half hour and he would have been on that bus.”

“What exactly is going on?” She knew the basics. She’d received the evaluation and notes from Luke’s two previous therapists, who hadn’t been able to make headway with him. Dawson’s wife had died in an automobile accident and Luke had been in the car with her. Yet he didn’t remember the day of the accident or the accident. Most of all, he refused to cooperate with any attempt to form the trust-bond so necessary to counselor-client success. Mikala knew about losing a mom, though her circumstances had been very different from Luke’s. No child got over that loss easily.

“Bottom line, he’s unhappy,” Dawson said. “He’s fighting at school. He hardly talks to me. I think he feels pressured to remember what happened and believes I expect him to. I only want him to remember if it will help him.”

Mikala thought about that. “It might help. It could hurt. We won’t know until I get to know him a bit.”

After a few beats of silence Dawson admitted, “For the first time since I started my business, I’m going to be hands-off for a while. Luke is my main concern. My dad’s my right-hand man and he’ll stay in Phoenix overseeing the company. I have other good people there, too. I won’t be working like I used to.”

“Long days to make the business thrive?” Through Miners Bluff’s gossip mills, she’d heard Dawson’s contracting company had found success when other companies couldn’t. But that was no consolation now. She could see regrets in his green eyes and couldn’t figure out exactly what they were from. She needed to know about his regrets if she was going to help his son. Some of them might have touched Luke.

“What’s bothering you most?” she prompted, hoping Dawson would be open with her so she could help.

“Most?” he asked with a wry grin that wasn’t really a grin. “I’ve worked sixteen-hour days for as long as I can remember. Not as many since Kelly died, but enough. Maybe that made Luke’s problem worse.”

Mikala’s radar went on alert at his regretful tone. When she’d known Dawson in high school, she’d not only wanted to be around him because he was sexy. She’d loved spending time with him because he was kind and respectful and never took advantage of any of his friends. Were his regrets tied into his success … or his marriage? Years of practice had her wait in silence for Dawson to continue.

“For years I thought Kelly and I were happy,” he finally said. “As my business grew, we moved to a bigger house, and when Luke was ready, enrolled him in a private school. I wasn’t home much, but when I was, I thought everything was okay. But after Luke started school, Kelly began to change.”

Dawson broke eye contact. “Maybe none of this matters. My main concerns are Luke’s fighting, his not getting along in school, his grades plummeting. But most of all his general attitude. I just need to know how to talk to him … how to get through to him.”

Before Mikala could stop herself, she covered Dawson’s hand with hers. To her surprise, the contact was electric. She glimpsed a startled look in his eyes, too, and she pulled her hand back quickly.

“It all matters, Dawson. Children are sponges. They soak in their surroundings, everything they hear, everything they see and even the feelings swirling around them. So whether you think something’s important or not, it doesn’t hurt to tell me.”

Quickly Dawson swung his gaze back to her, studying her face. Then he rubbed his forehead. “Okay.” After a few pensive moments, he blew out a breath. “Kelly and I married because she was pregnant. And …” He hesitated. “She didn’t go back to work after Luke was born. I was making serious money then, so her working didn’t matter. We decided not to hire a nanny. But once Luke started school, she seemed to want her freedom more … to work out, attend clubs, join charity groups. I think she came to resent the fact she was the one who had most of the responsibility for Luke.”

When Dawson stopped, she had the feeling there was something he wasn’t telling her. But she didn’t halt the flow of his thoughts. “I made the point of coming home early now and then to be there when Luke got off the bus. He seemed happy and I was always grateful for that.”

Dawson went silent again, then continued, “That December Luke had the day off for teacher in-service. A babysitter was supposed to watch him so Kelly could go holiday shopping in Flagstaff and stay overnight. At the last minute the babysitter canceled, and Kelly couldn’t reach me. I was on a job site and my phone went to voice mail. So she left me a message that she was taking Luke with her.”

Mikala watched as Dawson’s face became set, his shoulders more square. He seemed to want to distance himself from the memory. His voice dropped to a faraway monotone. “There was ice on the road. She went off the side of a deep shoulder, the car rolled and hit a tree. She wasn’t wearing a seatbelt … she was killed on impact.”

Dawson cleared his throat, pain all too evident in his expression.

Mikala said gently, “Take your time.”

One of his hands balled into a fist. “I lost Kelly, but I was so grateful Luke survived. He was in the hospital for a week, recovering from a concussion and internal injuries. It was touch-and-go for two days and when he woke up, he didn’t remember anything that had happened the day of the accident or that night. I took him to therapists and he wouldn’t talk to them. He withdrew even more. I can’t get through to him. My dad can’t, either. When I found him at the bus station, he cried and screamed that he didn’t want to go home.”

Mikala could only guess what that had done to Dawson—how it had hurt him more deeply than he could say.

“I don’t know what to do for him,” he said in a low voice, as if the admission cost him. “When I found out you were a music therapist who came highly recommended, I came to the reunion believing the idea of you treating Luke seemed to be the best one because Luke loves music. He’s taken piano lessons since he was seven. And I think Miners Bluff will be good for us both.”

When she and Dawson had danced together at the reunion, an old attraction to him had tugged at her. But it had no place here. Dawson’s life was in turmoil and his son was his priority and would be hers, too.

Still, as their gazes held, the room seemed to shake a little. Yet Dawson was counting on her as a friend who could help his son. She would assist any child in this situation.

“I’ll do my best to help put Luke on a healthy emotional path. I can’t tell you I’m going to solve anything, Dawson, but I can at least try to get the two of you talking again.”

A light rap on the door startled them, and Mikala knew it must be her Aunt Anna. She didn’t have her in-session sign up. But if she didn’t answer the knock, her aunt would go about her business, knowing Mikala couldn’t be interrupted.

Glancing at Dawson’s face, she could see he hadn’t wanted to revisit the past, but he’d done it for his son’s sake. She assured him, “I don’t have to answer that.”

“Go ahead,” he said with a small smile and she could see he was glad for the break.

When she stood, her arm brushed Dawson’s shoulder. Again there was a quick meeting of their gazes, but neither said anything. She felt totally unsettled and was glad to open the door again and feel the cold breeze.

Her Aunt Anna smiled at her. “I saw the car, but your sign wasn’t turned around so I thought—”

“It’s okay. Come on in. Dawson Barrett’s here.” She didn’t say more. If Dawson wanted her aunt to know anything else, he would tell her.

Her aunt’s wavy, steel-gray hair attractively framed her face. She was wearing a jogging suit with a down jacket and her favorite pair of sneakers. Mikala’s heart contracted with love for this woman who had raised her. She owed her aunt more than she could ever repay and she loved her dearly.

Dawson stood and came forward, hand extended.

“Hello, Ms. Conti. It’s good to see you again.”

Aunt Anna never stood on ceremony. She wrapped her arms around Dawson for a hug. “Don’t give me that ‘Ms. Conti’ baloney. You called me Aunt Anna when you were a teenager. You can still call me that.” She stood back to take a better look at him. “Mikala told me you were at the reunion. She’s never forgotten you, you know. You were her white knight at the prom.”

Mikala wanted to crawl under the love seat, but Dawson chuckled. “I don’t know how much of a white knight I was.”

His green gaze rested on Mikala and she remembered everything about that night in vivid detail—her torn dress, the date who had tried to maul her in the back of his car, Dawson coming to her rescue when she’d called out. Even more than all that, she remembered Dawson’s gentle kiss on her forehead after he’d taken her home. She’d told her aunt what had happened.

After what seemed like an excruciatingly long time, Dawson turned back to Anna. “Did Mikala tell you I’m moving back to Miners Bluff?”

“No, she didn’t.” Anna waited for him to explain.

“I have a ten-year-old son. My wife died and he’s having a hard time. So I thought moving back here, giving him roots in a smaller community might help. Mikala’s skill as a music therapist is well-known. She’s going to spend some time with him.”

“Well, if anyone can help him get settled again, I’m sure she can. Is your son with you?”

“No, not yet. I came up today to meet with Mikala, to see the school and register him, to stay over and re-familiarize myself with what’s here. I’ll bring Luke up to Miners Bluff in a couple of weeks when his term in Phoenix ends.”

“I see.” Anna paused, looked at Mikala and then asked Dawson, “Do you have a place to stay tonight … or when you move back?”

“Not yet. I was going to check into a motel and look for something temporary until I find a house. I’m going to check around before I return to Phoenix.”

“If I could make a suggestion,” Anna offered.

“I’m open to suggestions,” Dawson responded with that smile that could disarm anyone. He’d always been an easy conversationalist. As senior class president and a basketball star, he’d had his pick of girls to date. Yet his circle of friends had been most important to him.

“January isn’t a prime tourist month in Miners Bluff,” Anna explained wryly. “So the bed-and-breakfast has two suites vacant, one on the first floor with one bedroom and one on the third with two bedrooms. You could have your pick. For tonight and for when you return. I’d even give you a weekly rate since you don’t know how long you’d need to stay.”

“Aunt Anna, Dawson might want something … different than the B and B.”

Actually, Dawson looked relieved. “No, I think the Purple Pansy might be perfect. Convenient for tonight. And just right for me and Luke. Staying here could be good for him. That is, if your biscotti and pie are part of the deal.”

Anna laughed. “You drive a hard bargain. But biscotti are always in the jar and I make pies twice a week. I never know who will drop in, or if I’ll get a last-minute reservation.”

“Could I take a look at the suites now?” Dawson asked.

“Well …” Anna drawled. “I have a meeting in town. But Mikala could show them to you.”

Her aunt hadn’t mentioned a meeting that morning when they’d spoken. She wasn’t trying to play matchmaker, was she? Because Dawson wasn’t ready for that. She wasn’t sure she was, either—or would ever be.

Dawson was looking at her expectantly.

“Sure, I can show them to you. We should have enough time before your appointment.”

Mikala took her wool jacket from the coatrack behind the door, slipped it on and buttoned it up to the neck even though they weren’t walking very far. For some reason she felt as if she needed all of her defenses buttoned into place around Dawson. Which made no sense. Her dreams of attracting someone like Dawson had died a long time ago. She knew she wasn’t sexy. She knew loving brought heartache and doubled a woman’s insecurities.

In high school Dawson’s casual good looks had gotten him dates with all the popular girls and his souped-up Mustang had made him the envy of most of the guys. Dawson had been popular and cool. Playing basketball and being able to talk to anyone had helped that image.

She, on the other hand, had been mostly quiet and introspective.

Locking up the high school memories in a tight box, she led Dawson out the door and up the flagstone path to the Purple Pansy, not only a well-liked B and B on the northern Arizona tourist route, but her home for all of her thirty-three years. Her aunt had run the B and B since before Mikala was born in addition to giving piano lessons, taking in typing for a temp agency and working as a receptionist on and off. Anna had worked hard to keep a roof over their heads, good food on the table and laughter in the kitchen. Mikala knew she could never repay her aunt for raising her when her mother had left and hardly looked back.

“There’s snow in the air,” Dawson remarked, as they walked along the path profuse with flowers in summer and fall, now barren with the winter cold.

Glancing over at Dawson, she had to look up. She wasn’t short. She was a good five-eight. “Very different from Phoenix.”

“Maybe I can coax Luke outdoors more here and involve him in winter sports. He spends too much time cooped up in his room. Cactus and heat don’t help.”

“Does he have a specific reason for fighting the move?” No one particularly liked change, but children could be more resilient than adults.

“He’s protesting in part because my dad’s staying there. And, of course, Phoenix is the only home he knows. It’s where we were a family. Where he had his mom.”

Mikala saw the sadness in Dawson’s eyes when he spoke of his deceased wife. But she sensed he was hurting more for Luke than himself. Was she right about that? Had Dawson’s marriage been less than he’d expected it to be? Had an unplanned pregnancy made it rocky from the start?

On the patio of the B and B, Dawson looked around at the sycamores and pines, Moonshadow Mountain and Feather Peak in the distance.

“It’s just as I remembered it.”

There was nostalgia in his voice and she wondered exactly what he was remembering.

When they stepped into the kitchen, Mikala caught the scent of vanilla and lavender. The whole house seemed to have that scent, except when she or her aunt were baking. Then cinnamon and fruit smells filled every nook and cranny.

There was surprise in Dawson’s voice when he said, “This changed.”

The house was about a hundred years old and well-maintained. Overall, it had an old-fashioned air, with bronze sconces on walls that resembled oil lamps, ceiling lights with chandelier bulbs and wallpaper with tiny purple and yellow flowers. However, the kitchen had seen a major overhaul.

Glancing around, Mikala smiled. “Stainless steel moved in so I guess it’s more modern. We have a new counter and floor, too. But some things are still the same.”

Dawson’s gaze passed over the oak clock above the sink, the railing above the cupboards holding Hummel figurines, the maple table and chairs that were antiques now.

“She still has the purple pansy curtains.” He couldn’t keep the amusement from his voice.

“Yes, she does. They’re fairly new, though, the old ones had faded.”

“This still feels … homey,” Dawson mused, and Mikala had to wonder if his house didn’t.

Decisive again, he motioned down the hall. “Let’s look at the third-floor suite. Two bedrooms would be better to give both Luke and I some privacy.”

As they walked down the hall, Mikala tried to avoid thinking about the fact that if Dawson took the third-floor suite, she’d be on the second floor. Her quarters and her aunt’s were there. Having Dawson under the same roof gave her stomach an upside-down kind of feeling.

The carpet runner on the stairs quieted their footsteps. As they climbed the second flight, she asked him, “How much will you be bringing with you?”

“Just enough to make Luke comfortable. I’ll have his bedroom furniture and the piano trucked up here when we’re ready, but the rest of it I’m going to leave at the house. The market is picking up there, and with everything priced right, I’m hoping a furnished house will sell quickly. If Luke and I are starting a new life, it will be better that way.”

“You might ask him if there’s anything else he wants to keep. Baggage is one thing, Dawson, but memories are another. You don’t want to tear him away from everything he knows. He could be fighting the move because he feels that’s what you’re doing.”

At the landing now, Dawson looked troubled. “I hope I’m not making a mistake. But nothing is working for Luke in Phoenix.”

“What’s your gut telling you?” Mikala asked, as they stood at the door to the third-floor suite, close enough to share confidences and remember friendship that might have been more. If only—

If only Dawson’s family hadn’t moved away, whatever the reason.

“My gut’s telling me this is right.”

“Then maybe I can help him marry the past with the present.”

The word marry seemed to hang between them and she wondered why she’d chosen that word. To remind herself Dawson had been married? That even after two years he might still be grieving? That nothing could come of any attraction she might feel? That she didn’t trust that anyone would stay and not leave, especially a man … especially someone she loved? She’d been left behind more than once and she wouldn’t let it happen again. The memory of Alan Taylor telling her he’d fallen for someone else still stung … still hurt … bringing back a feeling of inadequacy she’d fought against since she was a teenager.

Mikala took a key ring from her pocket. It jangled as she poked an old-fashioned key into the door and turned the lock. The solid wood door swung open. She and Dawson stepped inside to a sitting room where braided rugs in hunter green and navy dotted the floor. The navy leather couch was accompanied by a green and blue plaid chair.

Mikala switched on a multi-colored Tiffany lamp so Dawson could see there was a small kitchen area with a microwave, two-burner stove and a table for two. Yellow curtains and placemats brightened up the small space.

As Dawson assessed the suite, Mikala crossed the room to a short hall. She opened one door to reveal a nice-sized bedroom with a hand-carved oak bed and dresser. A handmade quilt with navy, red, green and yellow patches stretched across the bed. The second bedroom, slightly smaller with a slanted ceiling, had an oak washstand with mirror, a shorter dresser and a double bed. Light poured in the double-hung windows, splashing over the green-and-tan spread.

“This is perfect,” Dawson decided. “I think Luke and I will both feel comfortable here.” He took a checkbook from his inside jacket pocket. “I should give your aunt a deposit.”

Automatically Mikala’s hand closed over his. “No, don’t worry about that. She’ll settle up with you when the time comes.”

Time seemed suspended for a moment as she could feel the heat of his hand under hers. He didn’t move and neither did she. Then she realized she should let go. She shouldn’t be touching him.

Hurriedly she released her fingers from his and dropped her hand to her side. But Dawson still seemed frozen in place. He studied her, maybe searching for the girl she’d once been, a scared lost teenager not knowing exactly who she was or where she belonged.

Before she could square her shoulders and tell him she was somebody very different now, he took her back fifteen years by gently grazing his thumb over her cheek. “When we were in high school—” He suddenly stopped, dropping his hand to his side.

“What?” she urged him, believing it was somehow important that he went on.

“I was going to ask you to the prom.”

Knowing the value of silence, she waited.

“But too much was going on at home. Then someone else asked you instead.”

Oh, yes. Carson Simmons had asked her to the prom and she’d gone with him because he’d been a football player, one of the in-crowd, someone who lots of girls wanted to go out with. But she’d found out that night why he didn’t seem to date anyone more than twice. She’d found out the hard way that some boys wanted to do more than talk and couldn’t—wouldn’t—take no for an answer.

“After I brought you home that night,” Dawson added, “I was going to call you.”

This time she couldn’t keep quiet. “But you didn’t.”

“All hell broke loose at home and things got … complicated.” Their gazes locked until he said, “A little bit like now.”

As if the moment had been much too intense for both of them, he slipped his checkbook back into his jacket pocket then checked his watch. “I’d better go.”

“I spend some of my time at the elementary school working with students who need help with communication and behavioral issues. Do you want me to go with you? I can show you around before your meeting with the principal.”

As soon as she offered, she wasn’t sure she should have … because Dawson was looking at her the same way he had the night of their prom.

“I’d like that,” he responded huskily.

At that moment, Mikala knew she had to bury whatever feelings she’d once had for Dawson so she could help his son.

That was the professional road to take … the one she must take.

Chapter Two

As Dawson and Mikala signed in at the office of Miners Bluff’s elementary school, he dropped the keys to his SUV in his pocket and glanced at her. She’d changed a lot since high school. He’d realized that the night of the reunion. She had a confidence about her now that went with her professional demeanor. She’d also gotten curvier and had a quietly sexy way about her that stirred up buried physical needs. Was that only happening because it had been a long time since he’d wanted to have sex with a woman?

A voice in his head was yelling, Not Mikala. She can’t be an experiment to satisfy your libido. Mikala had always been the kind of girl you respected … the kind of girl you waited for.

Where had that thought come from?

She finished with the pen and handed it to him so he could sign the log. Reaching for it, his fingers grazed hers. After he felt another jolt of attraction, he noticed such startled awareness in her eyes that he found it captivating. But he couldn’t be captivated by Mikala. She was going to be working with his son. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—mess with that.

But when he studied her pretty face and her expressive dark brown eyes, he knew he faced a battle against attraction and chemistry and hormones he hadn’t even known could roar through him anymore.

The last few years of his marriage to Kelly had become filled with tension. That tension translated into him burying himself in work … her already sleeping when he came home. Not much sex. Little intimacy. It had started with an argument they’d had when Luke was two. She’d revealed she’d stopped her birth control pills on purpose when they were dating because she’d wanted to get married! He’d been unwilling to let his own marriage disintegrate the way his parents’ had and he’d held on to hope that he and Kelly could fix whatever was wrong. He’d been determined to make sure Luke’s life wouldn’t be marred by divorce the way his had.

But he’d never quite gotten over the pain of her lie.

Mikala didn’t say much as she pointed out the fifth-grade classrooms and the arts center. A few kids waved at her as the bell rang and students headed for their buses. She stopped to introduce him to one of the teachers and then they made their way to a room at the end of the hall.

When they stepped inside, Dawson realized this was Mikala’s domain. There was a keyboard, a box of tambourines, several large bright balls and several recorders on the top of a bookshelf. A chord chart hung on one wall and photographs of dancers on another.

“You’re part-time but you have your own office?”

“Basically I’m an independent contractor. This room is in the older part of the building with thick walls, so it’s perfect for music therapy. I coordinate my sessions with the guidance counselor and I also sub when the music teacher’s sick.”

“You’re one busy lady—private clients, this and helping your aunt with the B and B.”

“I like to keep busy. That keeps me out of trouble.”

He had a feeling Mikala didn’t get into trouble very often. He found himself way too curious about how she lived her life. “Have you ever been in trouble?”

“You mean besides the night of the prom?”

“Yes.”

She looked over to her desk as if the subject made her uncomfortable, as if in some way his question had something to do with them. “I don’t look for trouble, Dawson. I keep my life uncomplicated.”

Had it always been that way? Because of what had happened on prom night? In high school they’d seemed to have an undeniable bond. But they’d both backed away from it … until the night he’d rescued her. Had she had lovers the past fifteen years? Many? All of that was too personal to ask. After all, they really didn’t know each other now.

Then why did it feel as if they did?

Dropping the subject because he saw she wanted to, he remarked, “Luke’s always gravitated toward music, though I don’t know why.”

“Music is a great way for kids to express themselves. It stimulates and relaxes—” She stopped and smiled. “Don’t get me started. I like what I do.”

“So why music therapy instead of teaching?”

Quiet for a few moments, Mikala seemed to hesitate. Dawson guessed she didn’t reveal her innermost thoughts and motives to many people. She hadn’t changed completely from the quiet, deep-thinking girl she’d been.

Finally she explained, “I’d planned to teach. But then one of my professors in college—she was a violinist—had a friend who was in an accident and fell into a coma. Dorothy visited every day. She played her violin for her. But then she got to thinking about important events in her friend’s life. She found the music that had been played at Cheryl’s wedding and played the song Cheryl and her husband had danced to. And Cheryl woke up! Dorothy had been so excited that she told me about it. Was it coincidence she woke up during that song? No one will ever know. But the hope that idea carried was amazing. I think I decided that day I wanted to do more than just teach music.”

Dawson witnessed the glistening emotion in Mikala’s eyes that the story brought up in her.

It was only there a short time, though, as she crossed to her desk and fiddled with the corner of a paper on her blotter. “I seem to remember you played the guitar. Do you still?”

That guitar had been packed away for a long time. “I haven’t picked it up in years.”

“Why not?”

“No time.”

At that she crinkled her nose.

Moving close enough to touch her, he asked, “What was that for?”

“We make time for what we want to make time for.”

He didn’t agree with that. “Sometimes there are demands on our time and we can’t do what we want.”

“I don’t know, Dawson. We all prioritize. You said you were working long hours and didn’t spend much time with Luke, but when you did, you enjoyed it. So what kept you from spending more time with him? I mean, why didn’t you make him a priority?”

He couldn’t tell if Mikala specifically meant to or not, but she was getting under his skin. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like the years-old attraction he was experiencing toward her or the way she was probing. Instinctively he knew she wouldn’t accept “work” as an answer, so he really thought about what she’d asked.

He gave an honest answer that caused his gut to burn. “I didn’t like the strain between me and Kelly that last year before she died.” He shook his head. “When I came into the house, she left.” That was hard to admit to anyone, especially Mikala. But he’d already realized she wouldn’t accept anything less than complete honesty.

To his relief she didn’t ask more questions about his marriage. “Did you do things together as a family?”

Dawson didn’t know if Mikala the therapist was asking, or Mikala the friend. He gave a shrug. “Not usually. I drove Luke to his Little League games. Kelly took him to his music lessons. I played catch with him in the backyard. She took him on play dates.”

“That happens with a lot of parents,” Mikala said, seeming to understand.

He didn’t feel any judgment from her and that made him feel less defensive. “I wish I knew how to get Luke looking forward to moving here.”

“Does he like animals? Has he ever asked for a pet, a dog, maybe?”

He took another step closer to Mikala. “You really do know kids.”

She laughed, a sound that resonated with him, that made his heart ache a little. Because he hadn’t known much laughter in the past two years.

“I’m good at what I do, Dawson. Besides, I get around. I often babysit for Clay and Celeste’s little girl, Abby.”

“Clay has emailed me photos and video clips. She’s a charmer.”

“Yes, she is.”

He noticed a wistfulness in Mikala’s voice. Did she want children of her own? Did she feel a biological clock ticking? Why hadn’t she married before now?

Veering away from that train of thought, he said, “I’m considering getting Luke a dog. It’s a good idea after we settle in. Luke’s old enough now to be responsible.”

“Did you have pets?” she asked with a smile.

Dawson wished he’d had a pet. Maybe his house wouldn’t have seemed so cold. “No, no pets. Dad was always at the mill. Mom involved herself in clubs and charity work. She raised money for a lot of causes.”

“As an only child, you must have had their full attention.”

He gave an offhanded laugh. “Yep, full attention.” He wasn’t going to say more. After all, Mikala didn’t have to know everything about him in order to help his son. No need at all. She didn’t need to know that his parents’ marriage had been cold, that they’d seemed to live separate lives, that they had seemed to stay together for convenience sake, for his sake or maybe for the sake of their finances.

This room seemed to magnify everything they were saying to each other, making it important. He turned the tables on her. “Didn’t your aunt dote on you?”

A guarded look came into Mikala’s eyes, and he recognized it as one she’d used even as a teenager.

“She did.” Mikala said simply.

“And your mom became a famous fashion designer who just visited on weekends?”

“Not that often,” Mikala offered nonchalantly. “When she had time.”

“When did she leave Miners Bluff?”

“Dawson, it doesn’t matter.”

“I’ve been answering your questions,” he reminded her.

“That’s different! I mean, I need to know background information in order to help Luke.”

“All of your questions had to do with background information?” He didn’t know why he was pushing this, but he was.

He saw the flush steal over her face, and he knew he’d hit the mark. She was interested in his life, just as he was interested in hers.

“Maybe not all,” she admitted. “After all, we’re sort of catching up.”

Yes, they were. “There’s a motto my parents lived by—appearances count. We all lived by it.”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

What did it matter if he told her now? “What was private stayed private. We pretended everything was all right, even when it wasn’t. I have a feeling you might have done a lot of that, too.”

She didn’t say whether he was right or whether he was wrong. But there was something in the way the corner of her mouth quivered a little, in the way she nervously pushed her hair behind her ear that told him he’d hit a sore point for her, too. Mikala pretended her mother’s desertion didn’t matter. Maybe that’s why she’d kept a certain distance from everyone. Maybe that’s why her friendliness and maybe even her compassion were defenses. She got close to her friends, but didn’t let her friends get too close to her.

Except there hadn’t been any distance between them the night of prom, and there hadn’t been distance between them for the few minutes they’d danced the night of the reunion. Now he wasn’t sure what was happening with her. Maybe they were just catching up, but the connection he felt to her unnerved him.

Cutting off whatever was going on, he said, “I’d better get to the office or I’ll be late for my appointment.”

At first he thought Mikala looked hurt he’d broken off the conversation so abruptly. But then that flicker of emotion was gone and she looked so … neutral … he wondered if he’d glimpsed it at all.

“You go on,” she said amiably. “I brought my flash drive with some files I need to load on the computer. I’ll be waiting in the office for you when you finish. Philip doesn’t waste time. He’ll probably have you in and out of there in fifteen minutes unless you have a lot of questions.”

“I’ve already spoken with him on the phone. You’re right. He’s crisp, but thorough. I’ll see you in a little while.”

He left Mikala in the music room, thinking about his connection with her that seemed to defy time.

Forty-five minutes later, Mikala wondered how to make the awkwardness between her and Dawson dissipate. They’d driven back to the B and B in his luxury SUV, listening to music he’d programmed in. She wondered about the life he’d led in Phoenix. From his supple leather jacket to his low Italian boots, she could tell he was used to the finer things in life.

As they stood in the kitchen, their history and unspoken bond vibrating between them, Mikala gestured at the counter. “Help yourself to anything you want in the refrigerator or the cookie jar. This will be your home for a while.”

“Not until I come back. I feel like I’m taking advantage of your aunt by staying in that suite tonight. I could just sleep on the sofa—then she wouldn’t have to change the bed.”

“We might not even register any guests between now and the fifteenth. Don’t worry about it, Dawson. Be comfortable tonight.”

They were talking about beds and that wasn’t any more comfortable than anything else.

There was a sudden knock on the kitchen door. Dawson asked, “Expecting someone?”

“No, but I do have a session in about an hour. Maybe my client had the time wrong.” But when she opened the door, she smiled widely.

Celeste Sullivan stood there with her almost-four-year-old daughter, Abby, holding her hand. Abby immediately held her arms up to Mikala for a hug.

“Hi, honey. What an unexpected surprise!”

Celeste laughed. “Abby was restless and Clay won’t be back until late tonight, so we thought we’d come for a visit. If it’s a bad time, we’ll go downtown to the library instead.”

“No! Come on in. Wait until you see who’s here.”

When Celeste came in, she spotted Dawson and immediately crossed to him to give him a hug. “It’s good to see you again! Clay said you might be moving back here. Is that official?”

“It will be in a couple of weeks. I just came up to find a place to stay and to register Luke at school.”

“Where are you going to be staying?”

“Right here. Aunt Anna says I’ll be doing her a favor using one of her suites, so Luke and I will be on the third floor.”

Abby came over to stand beside her mother and looked up at Dawson.

He crouched down to her level. “Hi, there. Your daddy has emailed me pictures of you and you look even prettier in person.”

Mikala’s heart warmed at Dawson’s tone. He obviously knew how to talk to kids.

“I’m Dawson,” he said, extending his hand out to her.

She ceremoniously shook it. “I’m Abby.”

“It’s official. We’ve met.” He rose to his feet. “And now I have to give my dad a call and check on my son,” he said to Celeste and Mikala. “If there are any problems, I’ll have to drive back tonight.”

It was quite evident that Dawson was putting Luke first, and Mikala admired him for doing that. Sometimes it was really difficult for a parent to put aside his own concerns for his child’s.

Dawson said to Celeste, “I hope I’ll be seeing you after we get settled in. It will be nice to talk to Clay face-to-face instead of on the phone.”

“I’m sure he’s looking forward to that, too. And Zack. He and Jenny are on their honeymoon now but should be back by the time you move here.”

“Sounds good,” Dawson agreed, his gaze meeting Mikala’s. She knew what he was thinking. He wouldn’t be socializing much with old friends like Clay Sullivan and Zack Decker if his problems with Luke didn’t settle down.

Once Dawson had left the kitchen, Abby ran over to the cookie jar and looked up at it. “Can I have one, Mommy?”

“Sure, if you have a glass of milk to go with it.”

Abby was amenable to that, so Mikala took milk from the refrigerator and poured her a glass, made tea for herself and Celeste.

When they were all seated at the table enjoying their snacks, Celeste asked Mikala, “What was that look you gave Dawson before he left to go upstairs?”

“What look?”

“I’m not sure. Like the two of you have a secret. I know he’s moving back here so you can treat Luke. Clay told me.”

“You know I can’t talk about that.”

“I know.” Celeste waited a couple of beats, then nonchalantly prompted, “There were rumors back in high school about the two of you.”

“What kind of rumors?” Mikala was absolutely surprised. She’d never given anyone reason to start a rumor about her and Dawson.

“There was talk that Dawson was going to ask you to the prom.”

“Why didn’t I ever hear about it?”

“Because what’s-his-name asked you.”

“What’s-his-name only asked me because all the popular girls were taken.”

“Mikala! You never did have a true image of yourself back then. You were pretty but quiet, sometimes even more than I was.”

Celeste had always been the opposite of her twin sister, Zoie, who had been an extreme extrovert. That’s why Zoie had initially caught Clay’s eye, even marrying him after high school. Clay hadn’t realized until after his divorce from Zoie that Celeste and he were much more suited for each other—especially since Celeste had been Abby’s surrogate mother. After the reunion last summer their bond and chemistry had transformed into love, and they became a family.

Celeste had been quiet in high school, but in a different way than Mikala. Mikala had stood her ground when she’d had to. She’d always championed the underdog. If she’d kept to herself for the most part, that was because she’d felt so different from her other classmates who had moms and dads, a different kind of family than she did. Only with her small circle of friends had she felt more secure.

Even back then, she’d kept her own counsel and was truly surprised about the rumor. “I had hoped Dawson would ask me to the prom. But when Carson asked me first, I accepted because I wanted to go so badly. I wanted to feel pretty and grown-up, like the popular girls. Dawson and I were friends and I didn’t think he thought of me that way—as a date. At least I didn’t think that until—” Uh-oh. She shouldn’t have let that slip.

“Until what?”

“Until the night of the prom.”

Mikala still remembered vividly exactly what had happened. The night had started off with her feeling almost glamorous in a pink chiffon dress with her aunt’s aurora borealis crystals around her neck and on her ears. She’d worn white silk high-heeled sandals and carried a beaded bag. Carson had picked her up and brought her a beautiful corsage. They’d struggled making small talk, but that had been okay. After all, they hadn’t known each other very well. After they’d arrived at the prom and danced a couple of dances, Carson had gone outside with his buddies for a while. Dawson, who’d been there by himself because his date had caught the flu, had asked her to dance.

With him standing before her, looking so handsome and grown-up, his gaze making her head swim, she’d thought about whether she should or shouldn’t dance with him. Even though she’d wanted to more than anything, she’d come with Carson. Yet other couples were mixing it up, exchanging partners, and there hadn’t seemed to be any harm in just one dance.

But the moment Dawson had taken her hand in his and wrapped his arm around her, she’d known this was a dance she was going to remember forever. Their gazes had met as he’d looked down at her, and they’d both smiled. He hadn’t said anything, just held her a little closer. She’d nestled into him as if she’d belonged there. In some ways the dance had seemed like a lifetime. In others it had only been a second long.

When Carson had returned to the cafeteria, she’d seen him the same time as Dawson. Their song ended and Dawson had given her hand a slight squeeze as he’d let go, almost as if he didn’t want to let go. Then she’d joined Carson at their table, smelling liquor on his breath. Despite her growing misgivings, she’d gone with him to his car. Wanting to feel accepted again?

What a stupid thing to do.

The flow of memory breaking, she looked at Celeste. “You know what happened with Carson that night.” Mikala glanced at Abby. She wasn’t going to say anything that little ears shouldn’t hear.

“You told me and Jenny the next day. You told us how Dawson rescued you and took you home.”

“And then he disappeared. I didn’t see or hear from him again until last summer at the reunion.” She and Jenny and Celeste had never talked about Dawson and what had happened. That had been in the past. Though the melody of the song they’d danced to had played in her head over the years, each time bringing back the vivid sensation of Dawson’s arms around her as they danced.

“All I heard was that his grandfather fell and his mom took Dawson with her to Wisconsin to take care of her father. Dawson’s grades were good enough without finals and the school mailed him his diploma. But he and his mom never came back,” Mikala mused.

“No, and his dad moved to Phoenix.”

“I wonder if that’s when his parents’ marriage broke up?”

“I guess,” Celeste responded. “Clay says Dawson never talks about that time. But eventually he moved to Phoenix with his dad, earned a business degree and became CEO of the company his dad had started.”

“Interesting,” Mikala mused.

“His life or him?” Celeste asked, with a twinkle in her eye.

Mikala thought about Dawson’s life and what he and Luke were going through. “Dawson’s still recovering from his wife’s death. And me? Well, you know trust is an issue for me.”

“It isn’t just trust, Mikala. You don’t think you’re sexy enough for a man to want you.”

Mikala nodded to Abby, but Abby was dipping her biscotti into her milk glass, slurping it up and then chewing on the cookie.

Finally Mikala admitted, “My last relationship proved it.”

“That was a long time ago.”

“I haven’t forgotten it.”

“That’s the problem. Maybe Dawson can help you forget about it.”

“Don’t go there,” Mikala warned.

Celeste just shrugged and sipped her tea.

That evening Mikala stood at the door to Dawson’s suite, not knowing whether she should be angry at her aunt or just amused by her. Mikala had had an early evening session and had come in to find her aunt putting together a dinner platter. She’d made sloppy joes, oven-baked potatoes and some kind of broccoli casserole with cheese. She’d handed the platter to Mikala and said, “Why don’t you take this up to Dawson? He’ll probably be glad not to have to go out again.”

“Aunt Anna—” Mikala wanted to start a conversation about why her aunt was doing this.

But always intuitive where her niece was concerned, her aunt had just patted her on the shoulder and said, “It’s just a friendly gesture, Mikala. Go on before it gets cold.”

Her aunt had done so much for her, Mikala couldn’t refuse her anything.

From the hall she spotted light under Dawson’s door and knocked lightly. But Dawson didn’t answer.

Go away, or not go away? The food on the plate was warm but wouldn’t stay that way long.

Since the door was slightly ajar—She wasn’t going to go inside unless he was right there.

Pushing the door open a little more, she saw Dawson was right there, stretched out on the sofa on his side, fast asleep. He was too tall for the couch. His head looked as if it was in an uncomfortable position on the sofa’s arm and he’d hunched a throw pillow under his shoulder. With his shoes off, he barely fit. She remembered what she’d thought when she’d first seen him at the reunion. He was a multimillionaire, the CEO of his own company, confident, charismatic, sexy. Now as she studied him, she saw a bit of the vulnerability he wanted no one to see, a hint of the boy she’d once known.

As if he could hear her thoughts, he opened his eyes and spotted her.

She felt as if she’d been doing something wrong. “Your door was open,” she said quickly. “Aunt Anna thought you’d like dinner. It’s hot, so I didn’t want to just take it back to the kitchen. I thought maybe you were watching TV and didn’t hear my knock.”

He levered himself up, ran his hand through his hair and motioned to the laptop on the coffee table. “I took some calls and worked for a while. Then I thought I’d just close my eyes for a couple of minutes before I got back to it.”

Crossing to the sofa, she sat down beside him, setting the food on the coffee table. She imagined he’d had lots of sleepless nights in the past few weeks, lots of days filled with worry and stress about Luke along with what he was going to do about his business, his work, and a new life in Miners Bluff.

“Maybe some food will get the juices flowing again.”

As soon as those words came out of her mouth, she knew she should have watched what she said more carefully. His eyes went deeper green with a simmering intensity she’d seen there before.

Yet he didn’t comment, just eyed the platter appreciatively. “Your aunt knows the way to a man’s heart. Her kindness is limitless.” He paused, thought about what he was going to say, and then obviously decided to say it. “I see that same kindness in you.”

For the second time in one day, she felt heat come to her cheeks. She never blushed. “Thank you. Go ahead and eat before it gets cold.” She would have risen to her feet, but he held her arm and she stayed where she was.

“Thank you.”

“I haven’t done anything yet.”

“You’re helping to make this transition easier. I called Dad when I came up here.”

“And?” she prompted.

“And … Luke is giving him all the reasons why he should stay with him instead of moving up here with me.”

“Oh, Dawson, that has to be so hard to hear.”

“I wouldn’t know. Luke won’t talk to me. What happens if he gets here and barricades himself in his room like he does at home?”

“I really don’t think that will happen. At least, not all of the time. We’ll have surprise on our side.”

“Surprise?”

She counted on children’s curiosity a lot of the time whether it was to try something new or just to coax them to talk. “He doesn’t know Anna and he doesn’t know me. Even the weather’s different here. Who can resist looking up to Moonshadow Mountain and Feather Peak? There will be plenty of things to interest him, and lots of people who can get through to him. His natural curiosity will help, too. I know things seem bad right now, but try to stay optimistic. Try to see all the things that will connect you to Luke rather than tear him away.”

Dawson was looking at her differently than he ever had before. She’d caught a glimpse of desire the night of the prom and the night of the reunion. But now, there was something behind that desire. Emotion? Feeling for her and a past they’d shared? That’s what caught her in its trap. That’s what took her by surprise. That’s what helped good sense flee and made “the moment” become all-important. As an adult the moment had never been all-important for her. She always analyzed the consequences. But Dawson kickstarted a passion she didn’t even know she possessed, without even a touch or a word or a kiss.

Suddenly he was murmuring, “Mikala, you’ve always been special to me. I always wondered what might have happened if I hadn’t left Miners Bluff.”

“What do you think would have happened?” she whispered, knowing this moment was important, not wanting to shatter it.

His hand went to the nape of her neck. “I think we would have dated. We might have gotten close.” He tipped her lips up to his. “And maybe …”

As Dawson’s mouth took possession of hers, she wrapped her arms around his neck and fell into the scent and feel of him. The kiss started slowly, like a wonderful melody that kept on playing. Then it changed verses as it increased in intensity, meandering into the refrain and began all over again. She’d always wondered what kissing Dawson would feel like. It was a symphony she never wanted to stop, a haunting ballad that reached down into her heart, making her feel emotions she’d never let surface.

Sudden need rose in her, sending fire into every part of her body. She didn’t even know the woman who was responding to the touch of his tongue … to the angle of his lips … to the deepening of their passion that left her totally without breath. She ran her hand through his thick, tawny hair. As his hands stroked up and down her back, she trembled.

Suddenly everything stopped—the new melody, the riot of sensations, the rippling adventure of wanting and being wanted in return.

He pulled away with a ragged oath and started shaking his head. “I never expected—” He stopped.

She didn’t give him a chance to say more. Somehow she managed to pull herself together, put distance between them and pretend she was perfectly all right.

“Enjoy your dinner,” she murmured as she fled to the door.

He called out to her, but she ignored him as she ran down the stairs, putting the moment behind her once and for all.

She hoped.

Chapter Three

Almost two weeks later Mikala watched Dawson and Luke carry their belongings into the Purple Pansy. Luke looked like his dad—same color hair and eyes, same jaw that would become more defined like Dawson’s as he got older.

She could already sense the tension between father and son. It was obvious that communication was almost null and void between them.

Since Dawson had left, she’d tried to forget about the kiss, and their awkward goodbye the next morning. Now, as she watched Luke and Dawson interact—or rather not interact—she knew she had her work cut out for her on all fronts, both personal as well as professional.

Aunt Anna stood at the counter, adding peas to the slow cooker as Dawson and Luke entered the kitchen once more, ready to return to the SUV for another load. She introduced herself to Luke and asked, “What do you think of vegetable soup for supper?”

His gaze glanced from hers to Mikala’s to his dad’s. Finally he shrugged.

But Anna was having none of that. “You’ve got to tell me what you like and don’t like. If you don’t like vegetable soup, say so.”

The ten-year-old pushed his blond-brown hair from his forehead, then shrugged again. “It’s okay, I guess. I like burgers better.”

“Of course you do,” Anna agreed with a smile. “But burgers every night aren’t healthy. I’ll make you one, though, if you promise to have some soup, too.”

Dawson interrupted. “You don’t have to make anything special. You don’t have to make anything at all. We can go out to eat.”

“Nonsense!” Anna swished her hand dismissively. Then she took the cookie jar from the counter and opened the lid, holding it out to Luke. “Homemade biscotti. There’s chocolate milk in the refrigerator if you’re interested.”

Mikala went over to a cupboard, opened it and removed a glass. “Just so you know, the glasses are in this cupboard. While you’re here, you’re welcome to make yourself at home.”

He took the glass Mikala offered, said “Thanks” and went to the refrigerator. He easily found the chocolate milk and poured himself some.

Dawson hovered, and to get him to stop, Mikala suggested, “I’ll help you bring in the rest of your things.”

“I can get it,” he began, but then caught her glance and understood. “Right.”

They were no sooner out the door when he blew out a breath. “I knew this wasn’t going to be easy, but still … he wouldn’t talk to me the whole drive here.”

“Each day isn’t going to be the end of something, Dawson. Like you said, hopefully moving here will be the beginning. Try to remember that.”

He stopped. “Are you preaching the value of optimism? Because I’ve tried to be optimistic over the past year. It hasn’t worked out very well.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.”

His defensiveness dissipated. “Sorry. Being cooped up in a car for three hours with a sulking ten-year-old kind of frayed my edges.”

“Aunt Anna will work her magic. Come on, let’s see what else you have to bring in.”

At the SUV, Mikala went around to the back and reached for a very expensive suitcase. She could tell by the designer logo.

“Hold on.” Dawson took it from her before she could lift it to the ground. “That’s pretty heavy. I’ll get it.”

She flexed her arm. “I guess you haven’t seen my muscles,” she joked.

Finally he broke into a smile. His fingers surrounded her upper arm and he squeezed gently. It was supposed to be a playful touch. She knew that. But it wasn’t so playful as she looked up into his eyes.

He removed his fingers and kidded, “Yep, there are muscles there. But I’ll still carry the suitcase.”

“Chivalry must be alive and well.” She grabbed a duffel bag and a basketball. “I guess a backboard’s in Luke’s future.”

“Maybe just mine. Anything I’m interested in, doesn’t interest him.”

“Have you asked him why?”

“Does it snow on Feather Peak?” After she arched a brow at him, he ran his hand through his hair.

“If I seem defensive, it’s because I am. That kiss when I was here last—” He stopped, obviously frustrated with himself because it had happened. “I see our move here and Luke’s therapy as a real chance to put everything right. I want to give him a more ordinary life without full security house alarms, gated communities, private schools. I guess I’m trying to leave ‘rich’ behind. I don’t want to throw a new life off track. I feel like I’ve failed him up till now. I wasn’t the greatest dad. Now he’s lost his mom and I’ll never be able to make up for that.”

“You’re right.” She couldn’t tell Dawson he wasn’t. But she also couldn’t let him take on a responsibility that could be too heavy for anyone. “You don’t have to make up for Kelly dying, and you can’t. You just need to be there for Luke.”

Dawson mulled that over as he picked up the suitcase as if it weighed nothing at all and they began walking toward the bed-and-breakfast again. When they reached the porch, he asked, “When will you start therapy with him?”

“Actually I want you to start therapy with him.”

He set the suitcase on the porch floor. “What do you mean?”

“If you and Luke go up to your suite, what’s going to happen?”

“He’ll probably go into his bedroom and shut the door.”

“Exactly. So instead, surprise him. Why don’t you take him into town and show him around? Point out where you lived, where you went to school and anything else that’s meaningful to you and could be meaningful to him. After you return, I’ll talk to him. Not a formal therapy session, but a get-to-know-you session. Maybe it will help him feel more confident about attending a new school, which is a big adjustment. We can both help him ease into it.”

Dawson stared up at the winter blue sky, at the pine forests that fringed so much of Miners Bluff. “And if he doesn’t say a word to me in the SUV?”

“He doesn’t have to. Just talk to him. Let the memories come … and whatever emotions come with them.”

“Coming back here and remembering could be painful. The idea of it makes me feel … vulnerable. I haven’t been vulnerable to anyone in a very long time.”

She could empathize. True intimacy demanded vulnerability and she was afraid of letting her guard down as much as anyone. “Nothing’s going to happen overnight, or in one ride around town. But if you can just share one memory with him from childhood—something that affected your life in some way—and he hears the truth in that, he might look at you differently.” Her tone took on a lighter note. “He might actually see that you’re not just his dad, you’re a person.”

“If you want Luke to see me as a person, we really have a lot of work to do.”

She laughed.

Dawson looked as if he wanted to give her a hug … or something. Instead he lifted the suitcase again, opened the door and headed into the kitchen where the biscotti jar and chocolate milk had brought back memories of their teenage years around that kitchen table. Maybe Dawson and Luke weren’t the only ones who would have to let a few walls down. Mikala’s biggest problem would be separating the personal from the professional.

But she could and would do that. She really had no choice. And while she was doing it, she would not think about Dawson’s kiss.

An hour later Dawson and Luke both stood in Mikala’s studio looking uncomfortable. If that was any indication of how their drive had gone …

“Luke, why don’t you go into the music room and make yourself at home. I just have to talk to your dad for a few minutes and then I’ll be in.”

Luke gave them both an I-don’t-want-to-do-this look, but wandered into the music room and went over to the bench at the piano. Mikala wasn’t surprised. That’s where he probably felt the most comfortable.

She said to Dawson, “Let’s step outside a minute. I don’t want to leave him too long.”

They were hardly on the stoop of the studio when Dawson said with some disappointment, “He didn’t say a word. I was hoping … We drove downtown around the park and I tried to explain the celebrations held there. You know. The happy times I remembered. Then I took him past our old house—my old house.”

She knew Dawson needed some of this return-to-the-past as much as Luke did, so she asked, “How did it look?”

“Different, yet the same. New shutters, beige trim instead of white, brown roof instead of red. But the yard … I remembered practicing my pitching in that yard. Tossing baskets at the backboard on the garage. Then the garage reminded me of the weeks I worked on my first car in there. I tried to share all that with Luke, but he just sat there as if nothing I said mattered.”

“He heard you, Dawson.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I’m sure because I can tell from Luke’s comments and his facial expressions and his body language that he hears what everybody’s saying. He’s in culture shock right now. You’ve moved him from the only home he knows. Give him time to settle in. Give yourself time, too.”

“What do you plan to accomplish today?”

“Not a whole lot. I just want Luke to get used to me. We’ll get into all the rest of it soon enough.”

“If you run over, I pay overtime.”

“We’ll talk about it if it happens.”

“Mikala, I am paying you for this. I won’t do it any other way.”

Gazing into Dawson’s eyes, she saw the integrity he’d always possessed, fairness that always made him a good leader. But it wasn’t integrity or fairness that practically mesmerized her as she stared into his eyes. It was something so much deeper than either of them were going to act on.

Yet even as she thought it, she noticed the tiny scar along his jaw that he hadn’t had as a teenager. She also caught a glimpse of a few silver strands in the hair at his temples. There was a swirl of chest hair in the V-neck of his shirt. In high school she’d seen him at their favorite swimming hole in his bathing suit and thought no boy in their class had looked as good.

Pushing all those memories aside, she said, “I’ve got to go in to Luke. Just trust me, Dawson.”

“I’ll try. I’ll be up in my suite. Call my cell if you need me. In fact, call my cell when you’re finished and I’ll come back over for him.”

Dawson was hovering again and he had to break the habit. “He’s my last appointment today. It might be better if we just walk over to the bed-and-breakfast and he comes and finds you.”

“Right. I guess I’m supposed to give him space.”

As she turned toward the studio, Dawson caught her hand. His fingers folded around hers, and she thought, No, don’t touch me. I feel too much when you do.

“I’ll talk to you later,” he said as if he expected results from her meeting with Luke.

She didn’t go over the ground rules again. She’d already told him she wouldn’t be able to report what Luke said without his permission. Yet she nodded, slipped her hand from Dawson’s and went inside.

When she returned to the studio, Luke didn’t pay her any mind. She went to her desk and picked up her legal pad, then crossed to the doorway of the music room. “Where would you like to sit and talk? In here? Or in my office?”

Luke sat at the piano with his fingers on the keys, yet he wasn’t playing.

“I don’t want to sit either place.”

“I know you don’t.”

He brought his hands down on the piano into two loud chords. Mikala quietly sat in the chair beside the piano bench and waited.

After a while Luke asked, “Aren’t you going to say something?”

“I know you’ve seen counselors before.”

“A psychiatrist and a psychologist. What are you?”

“Didn’t your dad tell you?”

“He just said you’re an old friend he went to school with, and you’re a music therapist. But I don’t know what that’s got to do with anything.”

“Your dad told me you can memorize pieces on the piano without a lot of trouble. That’s pretty cool.”

“I play them and I remember them.”

“Would you play something for me?” She was fully prepared for him to say no.

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