# The Family Man

Irene Hannon

THE DAVIS LANDING OBSERVER THE GOSSIP GURU has more scandalous news about the beleaguered Hamilton family:Seems patriarch Wallace had an illegitimate child with someone well-known within the community. Does Mrs. Hamilton know about this? In other Hamilton news, daughter Amy recently hired old flame Bryan Healey to write for Nashville Living.Wonder how gracious the single dad will be in taking orders from the woman who broke his heart? But what eldest daughter wants, she gets. And Amy wants this family man to be hers .

## “You’re attending church again?” Bryan’s voice was cautious, as if he still couldn’t quite believe it.

“Yes.”

Bryan was tempted to ask Amy how she’d found her way back to God. But that was too personal. And their relationship was strictly business now.

“Well, I need to get back to work,” he said.

“And I need to get home and have some dinner.”

Without waiting for a response, Amy left. She was still trembling when she stepped off the elevator. She wanted to attribute her reaction to the shock of being startled in the deserted office, to the fear that an intruder had trespassed onto family property, but she knew better. She trembled now from fear of another kind, sparked by the knowledge that an intruder had, indeed, trespassed tonight. Onto her heart. And that he’d taken something of great value, something she desperately needed for peace of mind. For survival, even.

Gone was the last illusion that Bryan Healy was history.

DAVIS LANDING:

Nothing is stronger than a family’s love

## IRENE HANNON

is an award-winning author who has been a writer for as long as she can remember. She “officially” launched her career at the age of ten, when she was one of the winners in a “complete-the-story” contest conducted by a national children’s magazine. More recently, Irene won the coveted RITA® Award for her Love Inspired book Never Say Goodbye. The RITA® Award, which is given annually by Romance Writers of America, is considered the “Oscar” of romance fiction. Irene, who spent many years in an executive corporate communications position with a Fortune 500 company, now devotes herself full-time to her writing career.

In her spare time, she enjoys performing in community musical theater productions, singing in the church choir, gardening, cooking and spending time with family and friends. She and her husband, Tom—whom she describes as “my own romantic hero”—make their home in Missouri.

## The Family Man. Irene Hannon


## ACKNOWLEDGMENTS:

Special thanks and acknowledgment are given to Irene Hannon for her contribution to the Davis Landing miniseries.

To Tom…always.

And to Carolyn…one more time!

I know that You can do all things, and that no purpose of Yours can be hindered.

—Job 42:2


## 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

Letter to Reader

Questions for Discussion

## Chapter One

“I have a résumé for the freelance position that you might find interesting. The writer seems to have a lot of expertise in family issues, just like you wanted.”

Amy Hamilton spared her sister a quick, distracted look, then went back to reviewing the layouts for the next edition of Nashville Living magazine. “I don’t need to see it. You’re the features editor. Just weed through the applicants and find some good people for us to interview.”

Heather tucked a soft wave of long brown hair behind her ear, took a deep breath and stood her ground. “I think you should look at this one.”

Stifling a sigh, Amy prayed for patience—a virtue she sometimes found in short supply. Always driven, always a high achiever, she hated to waste time. As managing editor of Hamilton Media’s popular lifestyle magazine, she didn’t need to be involved in the nitty-gritty of sorting through applications. She trusted Heather to select the best candidates. Maybe more than Heather did, Amy reminded herself. In recent years Amy had come to realize how difficult it had been for Heather to live in the shadow of her successful and popular oldest sister, with the inevitable comparisons—and insecurity—that brought. So more and more she tried to factor that into their relationship, taking extra time to let Heather know that she was appreciated and respected.

“Okay. What have you got?” Amy pushed the layouts aside and gave her sister her full attention.

The rigid line of Heather’s shoulders eased, and she entered the office, handing Amy the résumé as she spoke. “It came from a recruiter. I have a feeling the candidate may not even know it was forwarded to us.”

Planning to give the résumé only a quick perusal before passing it back to Heather, Amy focused on the section delineating the applicant’s experience. Impressive, she noted, as she scanned the credentials. An eight-year stint at a daily paper, most recently doing feature work—much of it family related.

“Sounds promising.” Amy held out the résumé to Heather. “I assume you’re going to call her for an interview?”

“It’s a him.”

A flicker of surprise darted across Amy’s face. She’d just assumed any writer interested in family topics would be a woman. But that was reverse chauvinism, she chided herself. There was no reason a man with the right qualifications couldn’t do this job. She, of all people, should be sensitive to gender stereotypes, considering her ongoing rivalry with her two older brothers, who held the choicest positions in the family business. Still, the magazine job suited her and she harbored no resentment about the distribution of duties. Besides, considering the mess things were in right now at Hamilton Media, she was glad she was out of the line of fire.

“Okay. Him,” Amy corrected herself.

Instead of taking the proffered document, Heather gave her an odd look. “Check out the name.”

Something in her sister’s expression and tone put Amy on alert. Curious, she pulled her arm back and scanned the personal data at the top. It took her only a second to find the name.

Bryan Healey.

The man who had broken her heart.

Several seconds ticked by as Amy stared at the name. As she thought about the earnest, auburn-haired high-school senior who had professed his undying love, and asked her a few months later to be his wife. But much as she’d cared for Bryan, the timing hadn’t been right. She’d had too many things she wanted to do before tying herself down with the obligations of marriage and a family. So she’d asked for time—and space—suggesting that they both date other people before making a permanent commitment. Though he’d agreed in the end—with reluctance—they’d begun to drift apart. And after the time he’d shown up unannounced a few months later on her campus, she hadn’t heard from him again. Memories of that unexpected visit never failed to bring an embarrassed flush to her cheeks. Still, she’d loved Bryan and been confident that when she was ready, he’d be available. That he’d wait for her. But he hadn’t. He’d married someone else. Started a family. Moved away. And left her heart in tatters.

It was one of the few times in Amy’s life when things hadn’t gone her way, and she could still recall with vivid intensity the shock that had rippled through her the spring of her senior year in college when Heather had given her the news of Bryan’s engagement. That initial shock had given way to hurt, then to anger. In the end, she’d written him off, telling herself things were better this way. That he’d been the wrong man for her anyway, and that someday the right one would come along.

Except he never had. At thirty, Amy wasn’t exactly over the hill. But unlike her high school and college years, when she’d had more dates than she could handle, her social life now was pretty bleak. Partly because her job kept her too busy…and partly because Bryan had ruined her for anyone else. The simple fact was that in all the years since they’d parted, she’d never found anyone who could measure up to him.

“So what do you want to do?” Heather prompted, when Amy didn’t respond.

Prodding her brain into action, Amy leaned back in her chair, her casual posture and tone conveying none of her inner turmoil. “What do you think we should do?”

“He’s got all the right qualifications.”

She couldn’t argue with that. But even though she’d gone on with her life, even though their relationship was ancient history, even though she’d learned to accept the fact that Bryan wasn’t the partner God intended for her, it would still be awkward to have him around. “Don’t you have any other strong candidates?”

“None that can match Bryan’s experience. Besides, I think he needs the job.”

“Why?”

“The recruiter sent a cover note. Bryan’s paper in Missouri has been acquired by a syndicate, and they eliminated a lot of the staff writers on August first. So Bryan decided to come home. It can’t be easy for him, Amy. Losing his wife, raising his son alone…he’s had some tough breaks, from everything I’ve heard.”

Amy knew about his wife’s death. She also knew that he had a son. Though the Healeys and the Hamiltons had never traveled in the same social or economic circle, nor shared the same friends, Heather had managed to keep tabs on Bryan. Probably through Betty at the Bakeshoppe, who always had her ear to the ground. Sometimes Amy had wondered if Heather carried a secret torch for Bryan herself. Not anymore, of course. Not since Heather’s fiancé, Nashville Living staff photographer Ethan Danes, had come along and stolen her heart.

When Amy didn’t respond, Heather tilted her head and gave her sister a speculative look. “You don’t still have feelings for him, do you?”

“Of course not.”

The skeptical expression on her sister’s face told Amy that her reply had been too prompt and too vehement. So she decided that offense was the best defense—even if the offense was a weak one. “But I always thought you did.”

The ploy didn’t seem to fool Heather—or ruffle her. “I like Bryan. I always did. Most of your boyfriends treated me like a piece of furniture. Bryan not only noticed me, he always took the time to say a few nice words. He was a genuinely nice guy. But no one compares to Ethan.” Her face softened, and a smile whispered at the corners of her lips before she got back to business. “Anyway, I think we ought to consider him. Under normal circumstances, I would have scheduled an interview without even consulting you. But I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about this.”

Toying with her pen, Amy debated her next move. Heather’s comment about Bryan’s difficulties tugged at her conscience. She supposed she should at least consider interviewing him. After all, when his recruiter told him where the interview was, he’d probably decline, anyway. She would, if the circumstances were reversed. Despite the fact that they’d both moved on with their lives, the history between them would make the situation very awkward. She couldn’t imagine why he’d want to put himself through that kind of stress. But at least, by offering an interview, she’d be able to soothe her conscience with the knowledge that she’d given him the opportunity.

With sudden decision, Amy pulled the layouts back toward her. “Go ahead and set up an interview.”

“Is later this week okay?”

“Fine.”

As Heather left, Amy tried to transfer her attention back to the material in front of her. She’d always been able to switch focus in a heartbeat, to concentrate on the task at hand. For some reason, though, that skill deserted her today. Instead, memories of Bryan kept intruding on her consciousness. And she couldn’t still the nervous flutter in her stomach at the thought that he might accept the invitation to be interviewed.

But that was a remote possibility, she reassured herself. In all probability, he would find the thought of renewing their acquaintance just as uncomfortable as she did. She was pretty sure that nothing would come of the recruiter’s submission. At least, nothing job related.

The effect on her heart was a different story, though. For almost ten years, she’d refused to let thoughts of Bryan disrupt her life. First, by using anger and a sense of righteous indignation. Then by keeping herself so busy she had little time to dwell on the past. Yet their split had nagged at her, deep in the recesses of her heart. Perhaps that had been one of the reasons she’d found her way back to God a couple of years ago, after a long absence. Only then, after much prayer, had she finally made her peace with the rift, accepting that God had other plans for her. But if that was true, why had the conversation with Heather unsettled her? Why did the possibility that her path might again cross Bryan’s rattle her?

Amy didn’t have the answer to those questions. Not that it mattered anyway, she told herself. The odds that Bryan would accept the interview were minuscule, at best. In all likelihood, he’d find a job with a Nashville paper. Considering that he had a young son to raise, he had to be looking for a full-time job, not a part-time freelance position. That alone should eliminate the job at Nashville Living from consideration.

Consoled, Amy went back to work.

“Bryan accepted the interview. He’s scheduled for Thursday at nine o’clock.”

With a startled jerk, Amy turned from her computer screen to stare at Heather, who stood in her office door. “What?”

“Bryan. Nine o’clock Thursday.” Heather gave Amy an intent look. “What’s wrong?”

Amy tried to erase the shock from her face. “Does he know I’ll be involved in the interview?”

“I told the recruiter, and he said he’d pass that along. I assume he did. I have two other candidates, too. One is scheduled for tomorrow morning, one Thursday afternoon. Here are their résumés.” Heather walked in and laid them in Amy’s in basket. “I knew you’d want to review them before the interviews.”

A couple of beats of silence ticked by. “Why don’t you handle the interviews alone this time?”

A quizzical expression flitted across Heather’s face. “You always sit in on interviews for writers.”

Shrugging, Amy turned back to her computer. “This is just a freelance position. I trust you to pick the best person.” Although her comment and actions were designed to end the conversation, she sensed that Heather hadn’t moved. A quick glance over her shoulder confirmed her suspicion. Her sister was still standing on the other side of her desk, hands on hips, frowning. “What?” Amy demanded.

“I thought you said you didn’t still have feelings for Bryan.”

“I don’t.”

“Then how come you don’t want to see him?”

“I didn’t say I didn’t want to see him. I’ve just got a lot on my plate right now. You can handle this.”

“You’ve never missed an interview before.”

Irritated, she glared at Heather. “There’s a first time for everything, okay?”

At the snappish tone in her voice, Heather looked hurt—and surprised. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Taking a deep breath, Amy counted to three. She never lost control. Especially at the office. Even in the most unpleasant circumstances, she made it a point to maintain a professional, even-keeled manner. Sometimes that was difficult in a family business. But she’d never slipped. Until today. “No, I’m the one who’s sorry. But I want you to handle this, okay?”

“Yeah. Sure. I have to get back to work.”

As Heather turned, her stiff posture told Amy that she had some fences to mend with her sister, as well as some explaining to do about her unprofessional—and uncharacteristic—behavior. And she’d take care of it. Just as soon as she figured out a way to explain it to herself.

The reception area at Hamilton Media, which housed the offices for both Nashville Living and the Davis Landing Dispatch—one of the town’s two newspapers—was bright and cheerful, conveying an upbeat mood. Colorful paintings adorned the walls, and large windows allowed the late-summer sunlight to spill into the space, which retained much of the historic charm expected from a building approaching the century mark. Under other circumstances, Bryan would have found the setting pleasant and relaxing. But his nerves were too much on edge to be soothed by anything today.

Ever since he’d agreed to this interview, he’d been besieged by doubts. He had no desire to see Amy Hamilton again. Despite the fact that any feelings he’d had for her had died long ago, thoughts of her still left a bitter taste in his mouth. But he needed a job, and so far nothing else had come up. A part-time freelance slot wasn’t ideal, by any means. That meant no insurance, for one thing. And he had to have insurance. Hard experience had taught him the value of that benefit. COBRA from his previous employer was providing interim coverage, but it was expensive. He needed to hook up with a full-time position that would offer health care coverage at a more reasonable cost—and sooner rather than later. But in the meantime, at least this job would provide some much needed cash. Living with his father would help ease his money problems in the short term, but he didn’t want to wear out their welcome. Even though his dad seemed to be enjoying the company. And even though Dylan wouldn’t mind staying at his grandpa’s house forever.

Thoughts of his son brought a smile to his face. It was hard to believe he’d be starting kindergarten in two weeks. Harder still to believe that Darlene had been gone for five and a half years.

Like the sun disappearing behind a storm cloud, Bryan’s smile faded. All his hopes of creating a warm and loving family had died with his wife. So had his faith. Once strong, it had crumbled in the face of her tragic death, as he’d watched his son struggle for life, as he’d tried to take on the job of both mother and father. Dylan had been the only bright spot in his life these past few years. Protecting him, providing for him, had become his top priority. And only a priority that vital could have compelled him to go on this interview…and face a past he thought he’d left far behind.

“Mr. Healey? You can go up now.”

The querulous voice of Herman Gordon caught Bryan’s attention. The stooped, gray-haired gent and his wife, Louise, had been with Hamilton Media since before Bryan had been born. Long retired from their regular positions, they now served as gatekeepers, presiding over the marble-floored lobby with dignity and unquestionable authority. Despite their advanced years and grandparentlike demeanors, nobody, but nobody, got past the Gordons without an appointment. They were an institution in Davis Landing.

“Right this way, young man.” Herman led Bryan toward the elevator with a sprightly step that belied his age, then waited while Bryan stepped inside the dark-paneled cube that gleamed with polished brass. “Heather Hamilton will meet you on the second floor.”

As Bryan nodded his thanks, the door slid closed. The elevator began to rise…and so did his pulse. In mere minutes he would be face-to-face with Amy—the woman he’d once loved. His grip tightened on the handle of his portfolio, and he tried to take a few deep, calming breaths. But the effort had little effect. The best he could hope for would be to feign a semblance of outward calm despite the sudden churning in his stomach. And it didn’t help that he was on unfamiliar turf—her turf.

Although Bryan and Amy had dated for more than a year, he’d never been past the lobby of the impressive three-story brick building on Main Street that housed the offices of Hamilton Media. Her father, Wallace, hadn’t approved of him, so he’d steered a wide berth around the old man, whose domineering presence had been more than a little intimidating to a nervous teen from the other side of the tracks—or, in this case, from the other side of the river. The physical separation between affluent Davis Landing and blue-collar Hickory Mills might be only as wide as the scenic Cumberland River, but the two sections of town were light-years apart in every other way. Bryan had been keenly aware of that division the few times he’d been in Wallace’s presence. The patriarch of the Hamilton Media dynasty had struck Bryan as invincible, a man who knew what he wanted and didn’t let much stand in his way of getting it.

But he hadn’t been invincible after all, as recent events had demonstrated. According to Bryan’s father, Wallace had been seriously ill with leukemia for some time, and was now coping with the aftereffects of a bone marrow transplant. In addition, the Hamilton family had been rocked with scandal. If the front-page headlines in the Davis Landing Observer—the town’s other daily paper—were to be believed, Jeremy Hamilton, vice president of Hamilton Media, wasn’t Wallace’s son. Since that story had broken, Jeremy had resigned, and the reins of the company had been passed to Tim Hamilton, the next oldest son. Betty at the Bakeshoppe, where Bryan had stopped for a quick cup of coffee before his interview, had told him that news—and also that the youngest Hamilton daughter, Melissa, had run off with her boyfriend. It seemed wealth didn’t insulate people from problems. Even the mighty Hamiltons were vulnerable to scandal and sorrow.

The elevator came to a stop, and the knot in Bryan’s stomach cinched tighter as the door slid open to reveal a slim, attractive woman with huge brown eyes and long russet hair, dressed in a flowing floral skirt and soft knit top. She looked vaguely familiar, but only when she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear in a familiar, nervous gesture did he recognize the beauty before him as Heather Hamilton.

“Heather?”

An anxious smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Guilty.”

Exiting the elevator, he extended his hand. “I almost didn’t recognize you. You’ve grown up.”

Shifting her notebook from one arm to the other, she returned his handshake. “I was nineteen when you left,” she reminded him. “I was already grown up.”

“Okay. Let me rephrase that. You look great.”

“Meaning I didn’t before?”

Her teasing response and the twinkle in her eye couldn’t quite mask the insecure undertone in her voice. Bryan recalled that her self-esteem had never been too high. Thanks in part, he supposed, to living in Amy’s shadow. Her sister had been the golden girl. With her long blond hair, sky-blue eyes, porcelain skin and fabulous figure, it was no wonder that Amy had headed the cheerleading squad and been elected homecoming queen. The fact that she’d excelled at school as well and was the editor of the yearbook made her an even more formidable role model for her younger sisters. But he was glad to see that Heather seemed to have come into her own.

“You always looked great,” Bryan countered.

Grinning, Heather shook her head. “Nice try. But I could never compete on the looks front with…” She pulled herself up short. “Well, let’s just say that my natural assets benefited from a recent makeover courtesy of Nashville Living when our makeover-of-the-month subject left us high and dry at the last minute.”

As they talked, she led him through a sea of cubicles toward an enclosed conference room. Heather took a seat at the head of the long table, and gestured to a chair at a right angle to hers. “Make yourself comfortable. Amy will join us in a moment. Can I get you some coffee?”

“No, thanks. I already indulged at Betty’s Bakeshoppe.” He set his portfolio on the table and pulled out his chair, resisting a strong temptation to reach up and loosen his tie, which seemed to be growing tighter by the second. Suits had never been his attire of choice, and he wore them only on rare occasions.

“We were very impressed with your credentials, Bryan. It sounds like you’ve been busy since you left Davis Landing. How did you end up in Missouri?”

A shadow crossed his face as he took his seat. “My wife grew up there. Since her mother was a widow, and not in the best of health, we decided to stay close after we got married.”

A soft look stole over Heather’s face. “I heard about your wife. I’m so sorry, Bryan.”

“Thank you. It’s been hard. But my son, Dylan, doesn’t give me a chance to sit around feeling sorry for myself. Five-year-olds have more energy than the Hoover Dam and more questions than Barbara Walters.”

Chuckling, Heather leaned back in her chair. “I imagine you have plenty of ideas for a column on family issues.”

A wry grin tugged at the corners of his lips. “I could write a book. Being a single dad has been—”

The words died in his throat as his gaze flickered over Heather’s shoulder. She didn’t even need to turn to know that Amy had arrived. The tense muscles in her shoulders eased and she breathed a sigh of relief. She’d half expected her sister to cancel at the last minute. Despite Amy’s declaration that Bryan didn’t mean anything to her anymore, Heather knew that she’d been shaken by the prospect of his reappearance. She wouldn’t have been surprised to get a message saying that Amy had been called into an emergency meeting with Typhoon Tim—a nickname bestowed on their brother by the staff since he’d taken over the reins at Hamilton Media. True to his Type A personality, he’d made it clear that the company wasn’t going to miss a beat because of the change in command, and he’d been on a whirlwind fact-finding mission to each department, often leaving chaos in his wake. Amy had been called into more meetings in the past four weeks than she’d attended in the past four years, as she’d grumbled to Heather on more than one occasion. So she could have used that as an excuse to cancel out on today’s interview. But to her credit, she’d shown up.

As Amy paused in the doorway, Bryan took his time rising, trying to reconcile the woman ten paces away with the girl he’d once loved. She was just as blonde. Just as stunning. Just as poised and elegant and self-confident as she’d been back in those heady days when they were in love. Or when he’d been in love, he corrected himself. In retrospect, he wasn’t sure her feelings had ever been as strong as his. But he hadn’t been wrong about his assessment of her beauty then. And he wasn’t wrong now.

In high school, Amy had worn her hair long. Now it was shoulder length, curling under slightly on her shoulders and parted a bit to one side. She was just as trim and toned as ever, and her dark teal suit and matching sling-back pumps were fashionable without being trendy. Her slim skirt revealed a discreet length of shapely leg, and the short jacket called attention to her small waist. The self-confidence she’d exhibited in high school had been a mere preview of the powerful presence she now radiated in her executive position. If he thought he detected a slight tremble in her hand, if her smile looked a bit forced, if a flash of pain seemed to dart across her eyes when she looked at him, he chalked it up to the awkwardness of the situation. This wasn’t comfortable for either of them. They had too much history.

While Bryan did his quick assessment, Amy did hers. She’d recognize Bryan anywhere, of course. His distinctive auburn hair and quiet demeanor hadn’t changed. And he still looked as fit and lean as ever. In fact, if anything, he’d grown more attractive with age. Maturity suited him. Made him even more appealing.

An unexpected quiver raced up Amy’s spine, and for a brief second the years melted away as the memory of their first kiss, beside the lake in Sugar Tree Park, flashed vividly across her mind. As if it had been yesterday, she recalled the way his deep green eyes had softened and warmed, inviting her to look into his soul as he searched her face before touching his lips to hers in a tender, almost reverent, kiss. Now, as their gazes met, she wondered if he, too, was remembering the sweet, heady joy of that moment. But it was impossible to tell. His shuttered eyes reflected wariness, and there was a disillusionment in their depths that had never been there before. It seemed that whatever fascination she had once held for him had long since disappeared. She’d expected that, of course. Yet somewhere deep in her heart, it hurt to have that fact confirmed. But that was her problem. And today wasn’t about them, or the past, anyway. It was about business, and tomorrow. A fact she’d do well to remember.

Forcing her lips to maintain their forced smile, she moved into the room and extended her hand. “Hello, Bryan. Welcome.”

“Thank you.” His clasp was firm, sure—and brief.

Taking her seat across from him, Amy turned to Heather. Her sister had gotten her into this, and Amy intended to let her take the lead. “Heather, why don’t you explain the position to Bryan, since it will report to you.”

As Heather spoke, Amy was content to observe. Her sister did a fine job outlining the job, and Bryan asked all the appropriate questions. When Heather finished, Amy suggested that Bryan walk them through his portfolio.

While they reviewed a number of the stories and columns Bryan had written, Amy let Heather ask most of the questions. When they reached the last page, Heather turned to her. “Is there anything else you need to see?”

“No. That should do it.”

“Okay. We’re interviewing three candidates, Bryan. I’m hoping we’ll be able to make a decision by the end of the week. Have you moved back to town yet?”

“Yes. Until I get settled, Dylan and I are living with my dad.” He jotted a number on the tablet in front of him, tore off the sheet and handed it to Heather. “If you have any other questions, don’t hesitate to call.”

After tucking the sheet into her notebook, Heather stood. “We will. Thank you for coming in today.”

Rising, he zipped his portfolio closed and reached out to shake hands with her. “I appreciate the opportunity.” For most of the interview, he’d focused on Heather, looking at Amy only when he couldn’t avoid it. He was well aware that she hadn’t said much, nor asked many questions.

Now, after a brief hesitation, he transferred his attention to the woman who had once stolen his heart, then trampled on it. The quick glimpse of regret in her unguarded eyes jolted him, but it was gone so fast he was sure he’d imagined it. Amy Hamilton had never regretted anything. She’d always been decisive in her choices, wasting no time on second guesses or looking back. He’d admired that confidence years ago, assuming it was a result of being an oldest daughter who had been raised in a life of privilege.

Her poised self-confidence was still very much in evidence as she returned his look. Yet it had changed in some subtle way, he realized. Where once it had been brash and certain, it now seemed tempered by humility. As if she’d learned a few hard lessons along the road of life, had discovered that even the confident sometimes make mistakes. That life itself held no certainties. That all the money and power and prestige in the world couldn’t shield a person from heartache. And the Hamiltons had had plenty of heartache in the past few months.

As he reached out to take the hand she extended, he was tempted for one brief instant to feel sorry for Amy Hamilton. Once upon a time, in the days before life had buffeted him with a succession of harsh blows, back when his faith had been strong, he would have given in to that temptation. But the compassion and charity that had once filled his heart had vanished, leaving an empty void in their place. Just Dylan and his dad, along with his brother and his family, could touch his heart. They were the only ones he let get close. It was safer that way. Caring about others, loving them, led to hurt. As the woman standing across from him well knew. If she cared. Or even remembered.

Not that it mattered, of course. Amy Hamilton meant nothing to him anymore. If he got the job, fine. He would enjoy working with Heather. If he didn’t…well, something else would come along. It had to. Because losing his job had been the final blow. He’d endured all the loss and disappointment he could take.

As he followed Heather back to the elevator, a sense of defeat and discouragement suddenly weighed down his shoulders. With no other prospects, he did need this job. Although it had been a long time since he’d prayed, a long time since he’d done anything but blame God for taking his wife far too soon, he needed help now. Since he didn’t know where else to turn, he spoke in the silence of his heart.

Lord, You haven’t done me many favors lately. To be honest, I’m not even sure why I’m talking to You now. But I don’t know where else to go for help. I need this job. Or some job. I want to provide for Dylan, to give him the best life I can. But I can’t do that without some source of income. This isn’t the job I would have chosen. I’d prefer to stay far away from the Hamiltons. But I can deal with it—for Dylan’s sake. Please, Lord…just give me the chance. Please.

## Chapter Two

Amy raised her mug to her lips and let the hot liquid slide down her throat. She needed something to settle her churning stomach, but so far the coffee wasn’t doing the trick. Nor had she helped the problem by skipping breakfast. Eating hadn’t been an option, though. The mere thought of food had made her queasy.

Under normal circumstances, she’d be worried about feeling ill, considering that she never got sick. But the circumstances were anything but normal. Today, Bryan Healey was joining the staff of Nashville Living. Not as a freelance columnist, but as a full-time employee.

Grimacing, Amy set her cup back on her desk with more force than necessary, sloshing brown liquid onto the polished mahogany surface. Disgusted, she reached for some tissue in her desk drawer and sopped up the mess. If she was this rattled before Bryan even started, how was she going to cope with his presence every day?

As she swiped at the puddle, her thoughts were as dark as the sodden tissue in her hand. In her gut, she felt this was a mistake. Yet, after interviewing all three candidates, it had been clear that Bryan was far and away the best qualified. After much soul searching, Amy had reconciled herself to offering him the freelance job. Then Heather had come to her with the news that one of their most-seasoned feature writers had turned in her resignation because her husband had been transferred. And she’d suggested that they combine that job with the freelance family-columnist position and offer it to Bryan, giving him a much higher income—and benefits.

Heather’s proposal had been logical. And short of admitting to her sister that she found Bryan’s presence disruptive, there had been no alternative but to tell her to extend an offer. Amy’s faint hope that Bryan would turn it down had been quickly dashed when he’d accepted the same day.

The good news was that she wouldn’t have to deal with him one-on-one. Heather would be his boss. The only time their paths would have to cross was at weekly staff meetings—like today. And once they got past the initial awkwardness, things would be fine, she reassured herself. It had just been a shock seeing him the first time. After all, she was an adult. She could cope with this. She ran a magazine, didn’t she? Dealt with dozens of crises every day? The reappearance of an old boyfriend shouldn’t cause too many problems. And if it did, she’d just plunge even more deeply into her work, which had provided a great refuge for her during the past eight years. If some thought she was a workaholic…well, so be it. Keeping busy had always helped her survive when life got crazy. Something it had been doing more and more in recent weeks.

As if to underscore that point, she caught sight of Tim barreling toward her, threading his way through the maze of cubicles that occupied most of the second floor. Tall, with dark, wavy hair and intense eyes, he looked like a man with a mission as he bore down on her. Considering how impeccable he always was about his custom-tailored clothing, the fact that his tie was a bit askew did not bode well. Now what? Amy wondered in dismay.

She didn’t have to wait long to find out. Tim strode into her office, shut the door, planted his fists on his hips and gave her a furious look. “Are you ready for this? Jeremy is leaving town.”

“What?” The shock on her face was echoed in her voice.

“You heard me. He’s going off to find his roots.” Sarcasm dripped off the last word.

“How do you know?”

“Mom called to tell me. He spoke with her last night before taking off for parts unknown.”

Struggling to remain calm, Amy tried for a reasonable tone of voice. “He’s upset, Tim. He’s angry, and he feels betrayed. How would you like to be told that your father isn’t your father? That the man who’s groomed you to be his successor, who you’ve loved with all your heart, isn’t even a blood relative?”

For a second, Tim’s anger dissipated. “Okay, I’ll admit it’s a tough break. But of all times to leave… Dad hasn’t even been out of isolation for that long. It’s still touch-and-go with the transplant, and he’s already worried about Hamilton Media. He doesn’t need any more stress.”

Amy thought about how pale her father looked each night when she stopped at the hospital to visit, his anxiety about the family business apparent as he plied her with questions. He was under more than enough pressure already. “I agree. So let’s not tell him.”

With a frustrated sigh, Tim raked his fingers through his hair. “That’s what Mom said.”

“She’s right.”

“Then who am I supposed to go to if I have a problem with the newspaper? Jeremy’s gone, and I can’t ask Dad without raising suspicion.” All at once, his shoulders slumped and his voice grew disheartened, reminding Amy of the little boy he had once been, always striving to compete with his older brother yet never able to live up to his own lofty standards. “I don’t want to mess things up and disappoint Dad.”

Because they were so much alike, Amy knew how much that admission had cost Tim. Both high achievers, both driven, both perfectionists, both always striving to please their father, neither had ever handled setbacks or failure well. And neither liked to expose any vulnerability, to show any sign of weakness. Through her faith, Amy had discovered that it was okay to admit that she didn’t have all the answers. And she’d found a way to temper her sometimes unrealistic expectations, to cut herself—and others—some slack. Tim hadn’t learned that lesson yet. She prayed that someday he would. In the meantime, he needed a pep talk.

“Things will work out, Tim,” she reassured him in a firm, quiet voice. “You’re smart and you’re conscientious. You’ll make this work. And you know you have the support of the whole family. We’ll help however we can. If we stick together, we’ll get through this. The Hamiltons are made of strong stuff.”

For a few seconds, he stared at her. Then he expelled a slow breath and straightened his shoulders. “Right. Okay. We won’t tell Dad. And I worked on the Dispatch when I was in college. I just need to get up to speed.” His usual confidence was returning with amazing speed. The matter settled, he swung around and headed for Amy’s door. He was almost out when her voice stopped him.

“One more thing.” He turned mid-stride to look at her, one eyebrow raised. “Ease up a little on the staff, okay? They’re starting to duck when you pass by.”

“I haven’t been that bad.”

Rolling her eyes, she shook her head. “Trust me. You’ve been that bad. Poor Dawn was almost in tears the other day. You’ll be looking for another administrative assistant if you don’t change your ways.”

At least that seemed to get his attention. A flicker of panic flashed across his face. “I can’t afford to lose her right now.”

“And I can’t afford to lose anyone. A word to the wise. Try being nice. You remember that word, don’t you? Nice. It goes a long way.”

“I have a business to run. I can’t afford to waste time on niceties right now. We’ll give everyone a bonus at Christmas to thank them for their patience through all this turmoil.”

“You can’t afford not to be nice. And dollars don’t build loyalty or longevity or commitment in employees.”

“They can’t hurt.” His pager began to vibrate, and he reached for it, then gave the message a rapid scan. “Gotta run. See you later.”

As Amy watched him hurry away, she shook her head again. One of these days, she hoped someone would find a way to tame Typhoon Tim. But it sure wasn’t going to be her. Sisters just didn’t have that kind of power—even when they really did know best!

The staff meeting had gone well. Amy had let Heather introduce Bryan, and as the group had tossed around story ideas for upcoming issues, he’d jumped right in, impressing her with his suggestions. He’d always had good instincts, and it was clear that time hadn’t changed that. If anything, they’d been honed through the years, seasoned with experience and polished with practice. She’d particularly liked his idea about a story on separation anxiety…in parents. It was a unique twist on a familiar topic, and with his only child starting kindergarten in two days, he could write with authority on the subject.

As the meeting wound down, Amy stood. “I think that wraps things up, unless there are any other issues we need to discuss?” When no one spoke, she reached for her notepad. “Okay. The pizza should be here any minute, so don’t wander too far. Although I don’t think I’ve ever had to twist anyone’s arm to take advantage of a free meal.”

Her comment elicited some chuckles, and as everyone gathered up their papers and rose, Amy turned to Heather. “Would you check with Herman? The pizza should have been delivered by now.”

“No problem.”

This was the part of the meeting Amy had been dreading. After regular sessions, the staff just dispersed. But Amy had started a practice of welcoming new employees with a casual lunch after their first staff meeting. If she skipped the custom this time, it would raise questions—which she didn’t need or want. Better to act as if this was any other welcome party. Meaning she had to stick around, mingle, chat with the new employee. The thing to do was talk business, she counseled herself. Stay away from personal topics.

Steeling herself, she walked over to the tub of soft drinks on a side table and chose a diet soda. Out of the corner of her eye, she noted that Bryan was talking with a couple of other writers in the far corner. Good. As long as they kept him occupied, she could lay low. And once the pizza arrived, she’d grab a piece, say a few words to Bryan and disappear.

“Pizza’s here!” Heather called from the doorway, juggling several large flat boxes. As she spread them out on the conference table, the staff converged like hungry buzzards. All except Bryan, Amy realized. He was still standing off to the side, one shoulder propped against the wall, his hands in the pockets of his khaki slacks. As if sensing her perusal, he angled his head her direction and looked at her. Short of being rude, she saw little option but to join him. Better to get it over with, anyway.

As she walked toward him, he straightened up. With her heels adding three inches to her five-foot, five-inch height, Amy was only two or three inches shorter than Bryan. As a result, she didn’t have to look up very far to get a good view into his deep green eyes. Though cool and dispassionate now, Amy recalled with a pang how they had once radiated warmth and devotion. The contrast produced an almost physical ache in her heart, one she didn’t intend to dwell on. It was obvious that Bryan had gotten over her long ago. And she had no one to blame for that except herself.

Looking back, she knew that her cavalier assumption that he would wait around until she was ready to make a commitment had been arrogant and insensitive. She’d known how much family meant to him, how much he wanted to establish a home of his own. But she’d selfishly disregarded his needs, his hopes and dreams. Maybe if they’d talked, they could have found a compromise. Instead, Amy had expected him to dance to her music. Even when he’d stopped calling, she’d just assumed he was giving her the space she’d asked for. His profession of love had been so ardent, so sincere, that it had never occurred to her that he was giving his heart to someone else.

By the time she’d realized what she’d lost, it had been too late. He’d been committed to another, and pride had kept her from contacting him. End of story. Or so she’d thought—until his résumé had crossed her desk. Now he was back, stirring up the embers of the flame that had once burned in her heart for him. And she had no idea how to deal with it.

She stopped beside him and tried for a smile, hoping that her inner turmoil wasn’t reflected on her face. “So…did you find the meeting helpful?” Her tone was a little too bright, and the speculative look on his face told her that he’d noticed.

“It was a good chance to get a feel for everyone’s working style. I’m glad you came over. I wanted to thank you for offering me the job.”

“It was Heather’s decision.”

“But not without your stamp of approval, I’m sure.”

Since she couldn’t refute that, she remained silent.

Glancing over her shoulder, he lowered his voice. “I hope this isn’t too awkward for you.”

Jolted by his direct approach, Amy stared at him. But she supposed she shouldn’t be surprised. Bryan never had been one to dance around issues. Put the problem on the table, deal with it and move on. That had always been his philosophy. And still was, it seemed.

“Not really,” she responded, carefully lifting one shoulder in an indifferent shrug. “Our history is…ancient. A lot of things have happened since then. And we’ve both moved on with our lives.”

“True.” His gaze flickered to her ringless left hand, which had a death grip on the notebook she was clutching to her chest. “I hear you’ve never gotten married.”

His unexpected comment threw her for a second, but she made a quick recovery. “No time. Work has been pretty all-consuming.”

A sardonic smile touched the corners of his mouth. “You always did have more important things to do.”

That hurt. Especially since he was right. Back in college, when she’d planned to take the publishing world by storm, the only thing on her radar screen had been her career. But her priorities were different now, even if Bryan had no way of knowing that. Or of knowing that her workaholic style was an escape from loneliness.

Some of her hurt must have been reflected on her face, because Bryan’s expression shifted, as if he was sorry he’d made that comment. But before he could speak, Ethan Danes loped over to them, his camera equipment slung over his shoulder as he juggled two pieces of pizza and a can of soda. Tall and rangy, his sparkling eyes crackling with energy, it was no wonder he’d been the Hamilton Media heartthrob until he’d lost his heart to Heather six months after his arrival at Nashville Living.

“Have you thought about how you want to illustrate that piece on separation anxiety? Because if you haven’t, I’ve got some ideas.” He took a huge bite of pizza and shifted his cameras into a more comfortable position.

Amy welcomed the distraction. She didn’t want to venture into personal territory with Bryan. It would be safer to confine their conversations to business. “By all means, tell us,” she encouraged.

“It’s a column, right? First person?” At Bryan’s nod, he continued. “Okay, how about we take some pictures of you getting your son ready for his first day of school? Maybe giving him breakfast, packing his knapsack, dropping him off? Readers like that personal touch. It puts a face on the issue.”

Faint furrows appeared on Bryan’s brow. “I’m not sure I want Dylan in the spotlight.”

“He’ll probably get a kick out of it. Unless you think the whole experience of going to school is stressful enough already.”

“No. He’s been in day care for years. Kindergarten won’t be much of a problem for either of us. He’s a little nervous about dealing with new people and a new school, but I dealt with the separation anxiety issue a long time ago.”

The traumatic memory hadn’t faded, however. As if it was yesterday, he recalled how it had just about ripped his heart out to drop his infant son at day care the first few weeks, after all they’d been through together. Born eight weeks early, tipping the scale a whisper above three pounds, Dylan had spent weeks in the neonatal intensive-care unit, much of the time on a ventilator. And it hadn’t been smooth sailing. Twice there had been setbacks, and Bryan had raced to the hospital in the middle of the night. As he’d stood in helpless vigil beside Dylan’s crib during those crises, his heart pounding, his vision blurred with tears, Dylan would look up at him with those huge, solemn brown eyes. Then his son would reach out his tiny hand and grasp Bryan’s finger with a surprisingly strong grip, as if to say, I’m going to make it, Dad. Don’t worry. And he had. But that had been the loneliest, most emotionally wrenching time in Bryan’s life. Not only had he lost the wife he’d loved, but he’d awakened every day to the fear that he would also lose the son she’d died trying to save. So leaving him at day care had been the toughest thing Bryan had ever done.

“Look, I can come up with something else. No big deal.”

At the sound of Ethan’s voice, Bryan pulled himself back from the past. Amy’s pensive expression told him that his face had revealed too much. Most of the time, he had his emotions under control. But for some reason he’d slipped up today.

“No. It’s not a bad idea.” He tried for a casual tone. “And you’re right. Dylan would probably enjoy it. Besides, it might get his mind off the fact that he’s going to be starting a new school and meeting a lot of new people.”

“What do you think, Amy?”

Still struggling to get a handle on the pain that had gripped Bryan’s eyes a few seconds before, it took her a moment to switch gears and respond to Ethan’s question. “Um…yeah, I think it’s a good idea.”

“Do you want to art direct the shoot?”

She often did that. Ethan was great, but she had a good feel for composition, too, and for important pieces she often went along to provide a second opinion. While the introduction of a new columnist qualified the story as important, she knew Ethan could handle it. At the same time, she was curious to meet the little boy, after the expression she’d just seen on Bryan’s face. Still, if she wanted to remain aloof from Bryan, meeting his son wouldn’t be her smartest move. She needed to think this through. “I’ll check my schedule and let you know. Meanwhile, you two can work out the details. Good to have you on board, Bryan.”

Her welcome was perfunctory. As was Bryan’s response.

“Glad to be here.”

As she turned away and headed toward the door, Heather’s voice stopped her on the threshold.

“Amy! Don’t you want some pizza?”

Without breaking stride, Amy tossed a response over her shoulder. “I’m not that hungry. And I have another meeting to go to.”

Okay, so the meeting wasn’t for two hours, she acknowledged as she strode away. The part about not being hungry was true, though. Her appetite had vanished after her encounter with Bryan. Still, she’d expected the first conversation to be strained. Maybe even traumatic. But it would get easier.

Wouldn’t it?

“Adorable” was the only word she could think of to describe Dylan Healey. From her position near the school entrance, Amy watched Bryan and Dylan get out of their car, then wait for Ethan to find a parking spot and join them. As she walked toward them, she studied the little boy. His tousled auburn hair was the same hue as his dad’s, and he looked healthy and robust. Although his backpack, decorated with superhero cartoon figures, was all little boy, his horn-rimmed glasses gave him a studious and grown-up air. When she drew close he turned toward her, and she noted that he had Bryan’s green eyes, as well as an endearing sprinkling of freckles across his nose.

The little boy tugged on Bryan’s sleeve. “Hey, Dad, is that the lady you said was going to meet us here?”

Raising his head, Bryan looked in her direction. “Yeah.” As she closed the remaining distance between them, Bryan dropped a protective hand to his son’s shoulder. “Dylan, this is Ms. Hamilton. She’s in charge of the magazine where I work. Amy, this is my son, Dylan.”

It had been years since Amy had had much contact with children, and she felt a bit awkward as Dylan stared up at her, his expression solemn, as if he was trying to figure out whether he liked her or not. Adults did the same thing when they met new people, of course, but children were much more blatant in their assessment. For some reason, Amy wanted to pass muster with this little boy. Relying on her instincts, she dropped down to his level and smiled.

“Hello, Dylan.”

“Hi.”

“Are you excited about school?”

“I guess. Dad says I’ll like it. Grandpa does, too.”

“You’ll meet lots of new friends.”

“My dad is my best friend.”

Touched, Amy smiled. “I bet he feels the same way.”

“Do you have a little boy?”

A pang of regret tugged at her heart. “No.”

“Don’t you like kids?”

“Of course. Someday I might have a little boy or a little girl.”

He considered that. “Then you’d be a mommy, right?”

She tried to swallow past the lump in her throat. If she’d accepted the gift of love Bryan had offered her years ago, she already would be. This little one could have been hers. “Yes.”

“I used to have a mommy. She lives in heaven now.”

His matter-of-fact response didn’t lessen the emotional impact of his words. Amy’s face softened, and she was tempted to reach out and brush one of the unruly locks of hair off his forehead. Instead, she forced her lips into a smile. “I’m sure she still loves you very much.” And then, feeling out of her depth in this kind of discussion, she changed the subject. “I like your backpack.”

“Dad got it for me.” He directed an adoring look up Bryan. “He said we’d be doing important stuff in kindergarten, and that he wanted me to bring it home in this to show him.”

When she ventured a glance upward, the tender, loving look on Bryan’s face as he watched his son made Amy’s breath catch in her throat, and she blinked away the sting of unexpected tears. His expression reminded her of the way he had once looked at her, with profound love and absolute devotion. If Dylan idolized his father, it was clear that the feeling was mutual. The love between father and son was so strong, so potent, that Amy felt awed in its presence.

Bryan shifted his attention to her, and for a second he seemed thrown by whatever he saw on her face. But when Ethan came up beside them, the mood shifted.

“Sorry. I got hung up behind a stalled car. Hi, Amy.”

She took her time rising, buying herself a few seconds to regain her composure. “How did things go at the house?” She’d begged off joining Ethan at Bryan’s father’s house, unwilling to get that up close and personal.

“Great. It shouldn’t take us long to wrap up here.”

They got down to business, and in short order Ethan had taken a series of photos of Bryan and Dylan arriving, walking into the school, saying goodbye. Amy offered a few suggestions, but Ethan, as usual, needed little direction. It was Amy, however, who noticed the opportunity for the most poignant photo of all.

“Ethan, take one more. Use the telephoto, and get the school in the background,” she said in a low voice, motioning toward Bryan as the photographer began to store his equipment in his SUV. During the entire photo shoot, Bryan had been upbeat with Dylan, kidding him, laughing with him, encouraging him. Now the mood had changed. He’d opened the driver-side door of his car, propped one elbow on the roof and rested his chin on his wrist. His other hand was in his pocket, and he was staring toward the school with a pensive, melancholy expression that tugged at Amy’s heart.

Without commenting, Ethan switched lenses and clicked off a series of shots, unobtrusively changing angles and positions each time. When he finished, he rejoined her. “That may be the best stuff we did. The expression on his face is priceless.”

Directing her attention back toward Bryan, Amy could only agree. It was clear that this parting from Dylan was hard on him, no matter what he’d said after the staff meeting. It was just as clear that he was doing a stellar job as a single dad. Although Amy didn’t know the details of his wife’s death, Dylan seemed to be coping fine without a mom, thanks to Bryan. But that didn’t surprise her. Bryan had always been the type to rise to the occasion, quietly stepping in to do what needed to be done.

A memory from high school surfaced, one she hadn’t thought of in years. There’d been a fire in the computer lab, and Amy—as yearbook editor—had been most affected. Her final files had sustained serious damage. They’d represented weeks of work, and she’d been panicked, distraught and frenzied. Until Bryan had stepped forward to help.

Prior to that, Amy hadn’t said more than a dozen words to the quiet, soft-spoken senior who had been destined to steal her heart—and who, he later confessed, had been carrying a torch for her since their sophomore year. Their paths had crossed a few times during the first half of their senior year, since he was the editor of the school newspaper, but only when he came to her rescue did she really notice him. He’d spent every evening for the next week—surviving on high-caffeine soda—helping her to salvage what she could, even as he tried to keep up with the demands of his classes and his duties as newspaper editor. As she’d discovered, he was the kind of guy you could count on. Dylan was lucky to have him for a father. And the woman he’d married had been lucky to have him as a husband, Amy acknowledged.

“How about we stop at the Bakeshoppe? I didn’t have time for breakfast this morning, and I don’t think Bryan did, either. He fixed oatmeal and scrambled eggs for Dylan, but he didn’t eat anything himself.”

Ethan’s voice interrupted her thoughts, and Amy turned back to him. It would be safer if she sent the two men for a meal and headed back to her office. And far more conducive to her peace of mind. She was just about to suggest that when Bryan looked her way. His bleak expression and the grooves at the corners of his mouth told her just how hard the parting had been for him. Sensing his aloneness, she wanted to do her part to help him over this hurdle.

“Sounds good to me. I’ll meet you guys there.”

As Amy walked back to her car, she wondered if she was making a mistake. Bryan had only been at the magazine for a few days, and their contact had been limited, but already her long-buried feelings were bubbling up, like boiling water from a covered pot. Still, given the look on his face just now, spending a little time with him seemed like the compassionate thing to do.

But she wasn’t sure it was the smart thing.

## Chapter Three

Ethan and Bryan were already ensconced in a booth at Betty’s Bakeshoppe by the time Amy arrived. Although the popular eatery was crowded as usual, the two men had managed to snag one of the small niches. But she noted with dismay that Ethan had brought his precious camera equipment in with him instead of dropping it in his office at Hamilton Media across the street. It now occupied the seat next to him. Meaning she’d have to sit beside Bryan.

For a second her step faltered. They hadn’t seen her yet. She could still make a quick escape, use some excuse about a crisis at the office. But just then Ethan caught sight of her and waved. Too late. With a sinking feeling, she urged her feet forward. Bryan eased over in the booth as she approached, giving her as much space as possible. Almost as if he didn’t want to be any closer to her than necessary, Amy thought with a hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach. Sliding onto the bench, she stayed as close to the edge as she could.

“Did you order yet?” she asked, striving for a casual tone.

“No. We waited for you.” Ethan handed her a menu, then motioned over her shoulder. A few seconds later, Betty appeared.

“My now, isn’t this like old times.” The owner whipped out her order pad and turned her attention to Amy and Bryan, her eyes twinkling. “Seems to me your favorite order used to be hot-fudge sundaes, but I expect you’d rather have something else for breakfast.”

A hot flush crept up Amy’s neck, and she stole a look at Ethan, who was watching the exchange with amused interest. From his expression, it was clear that Heather had filled him in on the history between Amy and Bryan.

“I think I’ll just have some toast and tea, Betty.” Amy handed her unopened menu back to the owner.

Betty tucked it under her arm and gave Amy a concerned look. “Aren’t you feeling well?”

“I’m fine.”

“You always order an omelet for breakfast.”

Gritting her teeth, Amy prayed that the flush on her neck wouldn’t work its way up to her cheeks. “I’m not that hungry today.”

“Humph.” Betty made a notation on the order pad. “How about you, Bryan?”

“Coffee. Black. And scrambled eggs.”

“What about some bacon or sausage? Maybe a pancake or two? And you know our cinnamon rolls are to die for.”

“Not today, thanks.”

“Humph.” Again, she scribbled on her notepad. “Ethan?”

“A three-egg omelet with ham and mushrooms, a side order of country potatoes and a biscuit. Oh, and coffee with lots of cream.”

“Now that’s what I call a breakfast.” Betty nodded her approval as she jotted down the order, then stuck her pencil in among the strands of brown and gray hair that were woven into a bun on the back of her head. “Coffee and tea will be right out. Amy, you better slide yourself in a little or you’re going to end up on the floor.”

As Betty hustled away, Amy lost her battle to keep the warm color from invading her face. It surged onto her cheeks, intensifying as she risked a peek at Bryan and found him watching her with an unreadable expression as she eased in an inch or two. Ethan, on the other hand, seemed amused by the whole thing, and she glared at him across the table.

Clearing his throat, the photographer had the good grace—and the good sense—to change the subject. “So…Dylan is a cute kid, Bryan. But being a father must be a challenge. I admit I’ve been giving it a lot of thought since Heather and I got engaged. To be honest, raising a family wasn’t one of my top priorities until I met her. But it’s amazing how love can change your perspective. Still, the responsibility of that whole parenting thing kind of blows my mind.”

Betty deposited their mugs and joined right in on the conversation. She’d been in Davis Landing so long that she knew everyone—and felt like part of their families. “You’ll be a natural, Ethan. Don’t you worry about it. Just love your kids. That’s the main thing. And you bring that son of yours in here soon.” Betty directed her last comment to Bryan. “Get him one of those hot-fudge sundaes you and Amy used to like. My treat for his first visit.”

“I’ll do that. Thanks.” Bryan watched her leave, then turned back to Ethan. “Betty’s right. Love is the best thing you can give your kids. Just let them know that they come first in your life, and that you’re on their side. My dad and mom did that with my brother and me, and I’m trying to follow their example with Dylan. It’s a little harder when there’s just one of you, though.” A shadow passed over his face, and he reached for his mug and took a sip of coffee.

“Heather told me you’d lost your wife,” Ethan sympathized. “I’m sorry. Was it very long ago?”

“Five and a half years.”

Twin furrows appeared on Amy’s brow, and she turned to him for the first time since Betty had deposited their drinks. “How old is Dylan?”

“Five and a half.” As Ethan and Amy stared at him, Bryan answered the unspoken question suspended in the silence. “Darlene had a condition known as preeclampsia. It’s not an uncommon complication of pregnancy, and most of the time it’s mild. Hers wasn’t. In its most severe form, it can endanger the mother and put the child at risk. There’s no cure except delivering the baby, and timing is everything. Ours was off. Darlene suffered a cerebral hemorrhage, and Dylan was taken eight weeks early by C-section. He made it. She didn’t.”

Horrified, Amy stared at Bryan. His spare, curt speech had been delivered in a clinical, dispassionate voice as he stared into the murky depths of his coffee. But his white-knuckled grip on the handle, the deep creases of strain around his mouth and the tense line of his jaw spoke of a pain and trauma undimmed by the passage of years. She wanted to say something, anything, to comfort him, but her throat was too tight to let any words through, even if she could find some that were appropriate.

Ethan seemed just as much at a loss as she was. As they exchanged a What-do-we-say-now? look, Betty came to their rescue and deposited their plates on the table.

“Here you go. Ethan, I put a packet of honey on your plate. I know you like that with your biscuits. Bryan, I had Justine add a little parsley to those scrambled eggs. Dresses them up quite a bit. Amy, here’s a little cinnamon-sugar mixture for that toast. I remember you used to like that as a little girl. I like it myself. Turns plain toast into comfort food. Can I get you folks anything else?”

Ethan found his voice. “No, thanks. This looks good, Betty.”

“Just give me or one of the girls a wave if you need something. Eat up.”

As Amy stared down at her plate of toast, she doubted whether she’d be able to choke down more than a few bites after listening to Bryan’s sad story. Maybe the cinnamon sugar would help. But as for turning the toast into comfort food…not today. It would take more than that homey recipe to ease the ache in her heart that Bryan’s story had produced.

He stirred beside her, and she heard the clink of cutlery against crockery as he forked a bite of egg. Ethan, bless him, had shifted the conversation to an innocuous discussion of fishing conditions on the Cumberland River, and Bryan was responding. Amy let them chat, keeping her attention focused on her plate. She didn’t want to look at Bryan. Not yet. Not until she worked through the emotions his story had stirred up. Not until she felt enough in control that she could risk letting him look into her eyes without worrying that he’d see right into her heart and know that she still cared for him. That his pain had touched her far more than it could have if she’d truly moved on with her life, as she’d told him she had in the staff meeting.

At least everyone ate fast. Ethan cleaned his plate, and Bryan put a good dent in his scrambled eggs. Amy tore her toast into little pieces and clumped them in a pile, hoping no one would notice that most of it remained uneaten. However, as she slid from the booth, followed by Bryan, he gave her plate a quick scrutiny. When he stood beside her, his face just inches from hers, his green eyes were questioning, probing.

Feeling somehow exposed, Amy checked her watch. “Well, I’m off. I’ll see you two back at the office. Just put this on my tab,” she instructed Betty, who was passing by.

“Sure thing, hon,” the owner called over her shoulder.

Then, without a backward glance at the two men, Amy headed for the exit. And tried not to run.

Leaning back in her office chair, Amy rested her elbows on the arms and steepled her fingers as she stared at her computer screen. Since breakfast two hours before, in between phone calls from the printer and an impromptu—and disruptive—visit from Typhoon Tim, she’d managed to find out an awful lot about preeclampsia by surfing the Net. And none of it was pretty. The disease could cause headaches, visual disturbances, high blood pressure, confusion, impaired liver function, seizures, kidney failure, coma—and death. And that was just in the mother. The baby could suffer slower-than-normal growth, oxygen deficiency, low birth weight, premature birth—and death. According to everything Amy had read, dilemmas arose when early delivery would solve the mother’s problems but put the baby at risk of the effects of extreme prematurity.

Bryan’s passing reference about his and Darlene’s timing being off led Amy to believe they’d faced that very dilemma. As it was, Dylan had been born two months early—borderline for many problems, according to the Internet. But he didn’t seem to suffer from any lasting effects. Except maybe the glasses. It seemed that premature children were at higher risk for eye complications. She leaned forward to read a bit more on that subject. She’d had no idea that preemies could…

“Can I interrupt for a minute?”

At the sound of Bryan’s voice, Amy spun toward the door, a guilty flush suffusing her face.

“Sorry to startle you. I didn’t realize you were that deep in concentration.” His focus shifted to the screen behind her, and she tried to remember if the type had been large or small. In either case, she was sure he couldn’t read it from the doorway. Could he?

Steeling herself, she swiveled her chair just enough to reach her keyboard. In the second before she closed her Internet connection, she saw that the headline on her screen, “Long-term Effects of Premature Birth,” was more than big enough to be read from across the room. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and caught her lower lip in her teeth. She couldn’t keep her back to him forever. She might as well turn and face the music. Praying he’d let it pass, she clicked out of the screen, then eased her chair around.

“No problem. I was just doing some research. What can I do for you?” She congratulated herself for sounding far calmer than she felt.

Instead of responding at once, he folded his arms and propped a shoulder against her doorway, as if debating his next move. When he spoke at last, her heart sank. “If you wanted to know anything about Dylan, you could have just asked.”

Amy was used to being in control. At the magazine, at home, in her life. At least, as much as God let her be. Her self-confidence was solid, and it took a lot to fluster her. But Bryan had been doing it with almost no effort ever since his return. His mere presence was enough to throw her off balance, let alone his straightforward, cut-to-the-chase manner. She should have remembered how direct he could be when she’d agreed to hire him. At one time she’d admired that trait. Had liked his honesty, his willingness to address problems without game playing. Not anymore. Not when it put her on the hot seat.

His regard was steady as he waited for her response, and Amy forced herself to maintain eye contact as she spoke. “I didn’t think it would be appropriate to ask for more information about such a personal subject. But I found Dylan charming, and after your comments this morning I wondered how rough his early start might have been for him.” And for you. She left the latter unvoiced, however.

Again, a couple of beats of silence ensued. She wasn’t sure he was even going to reply. But he did. “Pretty rough.” He studied her, as if considering how to proceed. Then he inclined his head toward the door. “Do you mind if I close this?”

She shook her head, and he pushed himself away from the frame, then eased the door shut. Before she could suggest that he sit down, he strolled over to stare out of her window. It offered a scenic view of the Cumberland River, which ran through the middle of town a few blocks away. The strong midday light highlighted the faint lines around his eyes, the slight horizontal creases in his forehead, the hard line of lips that had once been supple and soft. He had changed in so many ways, Amy thought with a pang. He’d been tested by fire, and while he’d survived, he’d paid a price. Bryan had always been serious, but he’d known how to laugh, too. The flashes of spontaneous joy in his sparkling eyes, his dry wit, his ability to make lemonade out of lemons—and do it with a smile—had always appealed to her. Looking at him now, Amy suspected that joy and laughter had been absent from his life for some time. Only around Dylan did she catch a glimpse of the man he had once been. Bryan might still be doing his best to make lemonade, but the flavor of the ingredients seemed to have left a bitter taste in his mouth.

He turned to her then, and his question caught her off guard. “Why did you hire me, Amy?”

Trying to steady her fluttering pulse, she told him what she’d told herself. “You were the best qualified person for the job. Heather recommended you. I couldn’t find any grounds to object.”

“But you don’t want me here.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to. I’m picking up…unsettling…vibes.”

“Maybe it’s your imagination.”

“I don’t think so.” He walked over and put his hands flat on her desk, leaning toward her, his face just inches from hers. “Look, let me just lay this on the line, okay? I know you don’t want me around. I got that message a long time ago.” His mouth twisted into a mirthless smile, there and gone in a flash. “Frankly, I don’t want to be here, either. In fact, I wouldn’t be if it wasn’t for Dylan. But I need this job, Amy. At least until something else comes along. In the meantime, I’ll try to stay out of your way as much as possible. I promise you that I’ll put our personal history and differences aside and give the magazine a hundred and ten percent.

“Now, as for what you were looking at on the Net. That’s why I need this job. After what I’ve been through these past six years, I know the value of insurance, and I can’t afford COBRA long-term. When Dylan was born, he spent eight weeks in neonatal intensive care. Even though he didn’t suffer from starvation or severe oxygen deprivation in the womb, he had problems. He couldn’t breathe on his own at first, so he was hooked up to a ventilator. Twice we almost lost him. When I was finally allowed to take him home, I was scared to death. At five pounds, he was so tiny that I didn’t see how he could survive. But he did.”

A muscle clenched in his jaw, and he sucked in a deep breath. “That didn’t mean we were out of the woods, however. As I’m sure you discovered, premature children can have vision problems. That’s why he wears glasses. And why he’s already had one eye surgery. I hope that’s the only one he needs. But I don’t take anything for granted anymore.” Bryan’s eyes, intense and raw, held her captive. “Now you know Dylan’s story. And why I need this job. No matter how much you dislike me, no matter how awkward it is to have me around, I ask that you try to overlook your discomfort for Dylan’s sake. To have compassion for my child. In return, I’ll give Nashville Living everything I have to offer until something else comes along. Can you do that?”

Amy was so caught up in Bryan’s gripping gaze that it took several seconds for the sound of knocking to penetrate her consciousness. By the time it did, Heather had cracked the door and was peeking in. As Bryan straightened up, her sister looked from him to Amy, then back again, her eyes widening.

“Sorry. I can come back later. I didn’t realize you were…in conference.”

As she started to close the door, Amy tried—and failed—to find her voice. Fortunately, Bryan had better luck. “Hang on a sec. You were the one I was looking for.”

Once more, Heather’s head appeared around the door. “I was?”

“Yes.” Bryan moved across the room toward her, and Heather opened the door wider, flashing a still-uncertain look at Amy. “I wanted to remind you that I need to pick Dylan up at school. The first day is just a short orientation. Since you weren’t here, I was going to let Amy know I’d be gone a little longer than usual over lunch.”

“Oh. Right. I remember. I had to run up to Tim’s office with some information he needed, and I was gone a little longer than I expected.”

“No problem. I just didn’t want anyone to think I was cutting out early after only a few days on the job.”

He was halfway out the door before Amy found her voice. “Bryan.” When he turned and looked at her, she continued. “About that other question you asked me. The answer is yes.”

Did the tension in his face ease a bit, or was it just her imagination?

“Okay. Thanks.”

Heather watched him go, then looked back toward Amy, making no attempt to hide the query in her eyes. Nor did she hesitate giving voice to it. “What was that all about?”

Busying herself with a stack of copy on her desk, Amy refused to meet Heather’s eyes. “Bryan already told you.”

“Sorry. Not buying. The atmosphere in here when I opened the door was thick enough to cut with the proverbial knife.”

In recent weeks, Amy had taken great joy in watching Heather bloom. The transformation from shy caterpillar to butterfly had been amazing to witness, and Amy had been delighted when Heather began spreading her wings to soar with new confidence. Until today. Today, she wished Heather would revert to her former ways and crawl back into her cocoon the way she used to do when Amy gave her the I’m-the-boss-and-I-don’t-have-time-for-this look. Instead, Heather was holding her ground, watching her sister with a speculative expression. And Amy didn’t like it. Not one bit.

“Go back to work, Heather.”

Folding her arms across her chest, Heather gave Amy a smug appraisal. “I get the message. Back off. The question is, why?”

“Heather…” This time there was a warning note in Amy’s voice.

“Okay, okay. But why won’t you tell me what’s going on?”

“Because there isn’t anything going on.”

“Then why won’t you talk about it?” At the expression on Amy’s face, Heather sighed. “Fine. Have it your way. But you know what? You may be able to fool yourself, but you can’t fool me. I know you too well. Whatever just happened in here rattled you. Big time.”

With a flounce of her stylish, newly layered hair, Heather departed, leaving Amy relieved but not at peace. Not even close. For years she’d convinced herself that she’d dealt with the loss of Bryan. That while she might harbor feelings for him deep inside, the man who had stolen her heart once upon a time, in the distant past, had no place in her future. Reconciled to that fact, she’d done her best to go on with her life. It had never occurred to her that he’d reappear. Or that if he did, he’d disrupt her peace of mind so thoroughly.

Heather was right. Bryan rattled her big-time. And there wasn’t a thing she could do about it, short of terminating his employment. But his appeal to her sense of compassion, for Dylan’s sake, had nixed that possibility. As a result, she’d best come up with another plan, pronto.

At least he didn’t know the real reason his presence disturbed her, she consoled herself. He thought she just didn’t want a guy she’d discarded years before hanging around. That she still wanted no part of him. And it was better that way. Safer. As long as he kept his distance, she’d be able to cope. Right?

She wanted to answer with a confident “yes.” But if she looked deep in her heart, she knew that the more honest—and unsettling—answer was an uncertain “maybe.”

“How did it go, champ?” Bryan grinned down at Dylan as they walked toward the car.

Dylan hoisted his backpack higher on his shoulder and beamed up at his dad. “It was awesome. Ms. Patterson is nice, and I met a bunch of other kids. Joe and Mark and Andrew. And Greg sits next to me. He wants me to come over to his house Saturday to play. Can I, Dad?”

Opening the car door, Bryan settled Dylan in his seat and verified that his belt was secure before responding. “I’ll have to check with his mom and dad first. Ask him for his phone number tomorrow and I’ll give them a call.”

As they drove home, Bryan didn’t have to do much prodding to elicit a steady and enthusiastic stream of information on the school, the students, the classroom and a dozen other topics. It seemed Dylan’s starring role in the photo shoot this morning had given him instant celebrity status, smoothing his transition to the new school, just as Ethan had suggested. Bryan was just grateful that the first day had gone well. Change was always difficult for children. And it wasn’t a whole lot easier for adults.

As Dylan chattered, Bryan kept half an ear on the conversation while he thought about the recent changes in his own life. If people had told him a month ago that he’d soon be employed by Nashville Living, he’d have laughed in their faces. Amy Hamilton had been the last person he’d ever wanted to see again, let alone work for. Yet it seemed fate had conspired to bring them together again. At one time he would have wondered if perhaps God had had a hand in it, but he didn’t spend a whole lot of time thinking about the Almighty anymore. After the blows life had dealt him, he’d grown angry with the Lord, just as Jonah had. After all, how much was a man expected to take? He’d been dumped by his first love, lost his second love, spent agonizing weeks watching his son fight for his life, lost his mother to cancer…all in the space of a handful of years. If the Lord had shown him any compassion through all of his trials and tribulations, he’d missed it.