Guilty until proven innocent

Everyone in Fitzgerald Bay—except his law-enforcement family—is convinced Charles Fitzgerald murdered his children’s nanny. Condemned by public opinion, his only hope for a replacement nanny to take care of his two-year-old twins is newcomer Demi Taylor. But Demi has problems of her own…starting with amnesia. She doesn’t remember who she is, doesn’t know where she’s from—and has no idea why she always feels like someone is watching her. Is she in danger because of Charles? Or has someone sinister from her old life found her yet again?

“I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to quit.”

Charles’s words jerked her attention back to him as she buckled her seat belt. “Quit? Because someone’s accusing you of something for which no one has any proof? I don’t think so.”

She jumped when his palm hit the steering wheel. “I won’t let whoever is doing this send me running with my tail tucked. I won’t.”

Charles turned, eyes narrowed as he drilled her with the intensity of his gaze. “I didn’t kill Olivia Henry. I don’t know who did. I just know I didn’t.”

FITZGERALD BAY:

Law enforcement siblings fight for justice and family

The Lawman’s Legacy—Shirlee McCoy, January 2012

The Rookie’s Assignment—Valerie Hansen, February 2012

The Detective’s Secret Daughter—Rachelle McCalla, March 2012

The Widow’s Protector—Stephanie Newton, April 2012

The Black Sheep’s Redemption—Lynette Eason, May 2012

The Deputy’s Duty—Terri Reed, June 2012

LYNETTE EASON

makes her home in South Carolina with her husband and two children. Lynette has taught in many areas of education over the past ten years and is very happy to make the transition from teaching school to teaching at writers’ conferences. She is a member of RWA (Romance Writers of America), FHL (Faith, Hope, and Love) and ACFW (American Christian Fiction Writers). She is often found online and loves to talk writing with anyone who will listen. You can find her at www.facebook.com/lynetteeasonauthor or www.lynetteeason.com.

The Black Sheep’s Redemption

Lynette Eason

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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But we had to celebrate and be glad, because

this brother of yours was dead and is alive again;

he was lost and is found.

—Luke 15:32

To my wonderful in-laws, Bill and Diane Eason. Thank you so much for your love and support.

I couldn’t do it without you!

Special thanks and acknowledgment to Lynette Eason for her contribution to the Fitzgerald Bay miniseries.

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

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Dear Reader

Questions for Discussion

ONE

Demi Taylor jumped as something scraped against the window behind her. Her book fell to the floor. Heart thumping, she bolted from the couch and spun to look at the window. She’d had it cracked to let in the sound of the ocean crashing on the cliffs just below the house but the blinds were closed and blocked her view.

Which was good.

If she couldn’t see out, no one could see in. Quickly, she moved the blinds, shut the window and latched it. Heart still racing, she simply stared at it for a moment as she told herself to calm down. Absently, she shoved up her wire-rimmed glasses back on her nose.

What would someone be doing anywhere near that window? Or was she just being silly and it was a tree branch knocking against the pane?

After all, this was her first week on the job as nanny to Charles Fitzgerald’s children and she wasn’t used to the night sounds of this house. A shiver danced across her skin, raising goose bumps and her blood pressure.

She walked to the front door and checked the lock.

Secured.

Pulling the curtain covering the small window to the left, she parted the blinds and peered out into the dark night. The motion-activated floodlights weren’t on which meant no one had moved in front of them.

She breathed a little easier, her heart rate slowed and she could almost laugh at her jumpiness.

It was only eight-thirty. Her new employer should be home any minute. She’d agreed to stay late while he made a house call, but she wasn’t sure she liked it.

Ever since waking up in the hospital three weeks ago with no real memory of who she was, or where she belonged, Demi quickly found out she didn’t like the dark.

The fact that no one had come forward to identify her even after her face had been all over the news and in the paper was a bitter pill to swallow. Starting over in Fitzgerald Bay, Massachusetts, had seemed like a good idea last week and getting a job almost immediately had seemed like a dream come true.

Now, doubt assailed her.

She peered out again. The inky blackness made her shiver. Charles and his family lived in the Fitzgerald Bay lighthouse keeper’s residence, but even the lighthouse beam didn’t reach far enough to cut through the dark.

All Demi knew was that darkness brought flashes of pain, screams, angry words and what she thought was a memory of heavy fists. But that was all she could pull from her shuttered mind before the pounding headache drilled into her, forcing her to abandon her efforts to remember.

No, she didn’t like the dark. Add in the weird noises and her adrenaline had stayed spiked since Charles had left three hours ago. A fine tremble set in and she clenched her fingers into fists.

She stood still, eyes closed.

And listened.

Maybe it was just her imagination.

At night, in her small apartment above The Reading Nook bookstore in town, she often thought she heard footsteps outside her door. Lurking, hiding.

But every time she checked, no one was ever there.

Maybe—

Another scrape against the house made her jerk. Then a muffled pop caused her to gasp. What was going on?

This was not her imagination.

She made her way into the kitchen and closed the blinds. Standing next to the window with the blinds now shut, she thought she heard a footfall, a rattle.

And another pop.

A muffled curse.

Her breathing quickened once again and her heart picked up speed.

Someone was definitely near the garage.

What should she do? Get the kids? Hide?

The phone.

She needed to call the police.

And Charles.

Trembling, knees almost knocking, she slapped the light switch on the wall and threw the room into total darkness.

A shudder ripped through her as she thought about the children sleeping down the hall. What if the person was trying to get into the house?

She had to protect the children.

Fighting the fear threatening to cripple her, she groped for the handset of the cordless phone on the counter beside the refrigerator.

The cool plastic slid into her palm and she felt for the digits. 9-1-1.

Lifting it to her ear, she waited, heart thudding so hard she wondered if she’d be able to hear the dispatcher.

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”

“Someone’s outside the house,” she whispered. “Charles Fitzgerald’s home. I think he’s trying to get in.”

“Ma’am, stay on the line. Can you get somewhere to hide?”

“No. I’m responsible for two children sleeping in two different rooms. If I wake them to hide… The noise they would make… No.”

“Someone is on the way, ma’am, just stay on the line.”

Demi did as the woman said, while the garage door drew her attention. It was closed, yet she peered out anyway to find the space empty. But the door…

It moved. Rattled.

Sucking in a deep breath, she said, “He’s by the garage.”

“Help is coming.” A pause. “Is Dr. Fitzgerald there?”

“No, I’m his nanny. I’m staying here with the children while he made a house call.”

Another pause that seemed like a lifetime. Then, “I’ve alerted Detective Owen Fitzgerald, Charles’s brother, that there’s trouble at your location. He’s on his way.”

“Thank you.” Still the fear churned inside her.

More rattling made her spin. Gasp.

Then silence.

Demi stilled.

Was he gone?

She pulled away the phone from her ear and listened. Nothing.

She crossed the kitchen, the moonlight streaming through the blinds lighting her way.

A sound from the direction of the foyer diverted her attention in that direction, and she padded silently toward it. Was he now trying to get in the front door?

Quivering from head to toe, she gulped. Forced herself to keep it together. She had children to protect. She just prayed she’d made the right decision to let them sleep instead of grabbing them and hiding.

Please don’t let them wake up, she breathed silently.

Where were the police?

“Please God,” she whispered. Then wondered why she found herself praying. She didn’t know if she even believed in God. But she wanted to. Wanted to believe He would help her, keep her and the children safe.

Another few seconds passed as she stared at the front door.

Think, Demi, think!

A weapon. She definitely needed a weapon. All she had to do was keep him away from the children long enough for the police to arrive.

But what could she use?

She looked at the block of knives on the kitchen counter and shuddered. The heavy crystal vase would have to do. She grabbed it, ready to hurl it at the head of whoever dared come through the front door.

Then she heard the faint sound of retreating footsteps, moving as though they were in a hurry. She rushed on silent feet to the door and pressed her ear against it.

The distant sound of sirens reached her ears.

Help was on the way.

They must have scared him off.

Relief flowed through her and she nearly dropped the vase from suddenly weak fingers.

Then realized she still held the phone in the other hand.

Demi set the vase on the table, lifted the phone to her ear and said to the 9-1-1 operator still on the line, “The police are close. I can hear their sirens.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I think he left. I heard him run away.” Her sentences felt choppy, short. Like she was having trouble stringing coherent thoughts together.

“Don’t check, just stay where you are until the police get there.”

Demi didn’t bother telling the woman she had no intention of opening the door.

The first police cruiser with the Fitzgerald Bay logo on the side finally pulled up to the house.

An officer opened the door and climbed out, weapon drawn, gaze darting.

And then Demi spied Charles’s truck pulling up beside the officer.

Demi opened the front door and everyone froze as she stepped outside.

* * *

Charles saw his new nanny standing in the doorway and thought his heart would stop. When Owen had called to tell him Demi had dialed 9-1-1 because he had an intruder at his house, his only thought had been to get home and make sure everyone was safe. He couldn’t help the terrifying thought that he’d find Demi murdered in his house. Just like Olivia, his former nanny who’d been found dead on the rocks at the base of the lighthouse that was on his property. But Demi wasn’t dead. She was standing in front of him, safe and sound.

“Are you all right? The children?” He rushed to her, the limp he’d acquired while serving in Iraq not slowing him one bit. He took in every detail of her appearance. She looked scared and couldn’t hide the fine tremor he could see in her hands but, at first glance, she didn’t appear hurt.

Her frightened green eyes blinked wide behind her lenses. Her honey-blond hair lay in disarray as though she’d run her hands through it several times. His heartbeat didn’t slow.

She nodded. “I’m fine. The children are fine, too. They never woke up.”

Owen approached, followed by Charles’s other brother, Deputy Chief of Police Ryan Fitzgerald. Charles introduced them and Ryan asked, “Did you get a look at him?”

Demi shook her head. “I peeked through the blinds, but never saw anyone. He was mostly near the garage door. I did hear some popping sounds, though, and the motion lights never came on.”

Owen spoke to the officer next to him. “The garage is around the side of the house. Check it out, will you?”

“Sure.” The man’s badge read Mike Hughes.

Officer Hughes took off around the side as another patrol car pulled up. Charles groaned when he realized it was his baby sister, Keira, and her partner. Looks like the entire family had gotten the word. But Keira would be the worst. Even though she was the younger sibling, she’d want to mother him. Since Olivia’s death and the suspicion that had shadowed his every move, Keira’s mothering had turned to smothering.

She climbed from the vehicle, concern etched on her pretty features. “Charles? I was just getting ready to go off duty when I heard the address over the radio. What’s going on?”

“We’re just about to get to that,” Owen said.

“Tell me what I can do to help,” Keira offered. “Do I need to stay with the kids?”

“No,” Charles assured her. “Demi said they never woke up. They’re still sleeping.”

Keira ignored him and headed for the front door obviously needing to make sure of that for herself.

Officer Hughes appeared around the corner, a flashlight held at his side. To Demi, he said, “The popping sounds you heard were the lights being broken.” To Owen, he jerked his head toward the garage. “I think you need to come see this. And you might want to bring a camera—and another flashlight.”

Charles looked at Demi. She said, “I’ll stay here out of the way.”

He nodded and followed his two brothers and the officer around to the side where his garage was.

As he got a good look at it, he gasped.

In bold red letters, someone had spray painted across the landscape of his garage door.

MURDERER!

TWO

Demi took Officer Hughes up on his offer to listen for the kids. She and Keira followed everyone around to the side of the house to see what all the excitement was about.

She saw the garage door and flinched as though she’d been slapped. Her heart shuddered in pain for the man staring in disbelief at the vandalism. Who would do something like that? Demi hadn’t known Charles very long, just long enough to be interviewed and accept the job. She’d heard the rumors. Been privy to the whispers as she walked through town. People wondered how she could work for a suspected murderer. But after meeting Charles, Demi knew in her gut that he hadn’t murdered anyone. If she thought he was capable of that, she wouldn’t be working for him.

Owen stared at the vile accusation and looked ready to snap someone in two. The set of Keira’s jaw said she was right there with Owen.

“What’s going on here?”

Demi turned to see Aiden Fitzgerald, chief of police and head of the Fitzgerald family, stride toward his children. She recognized him from the family photo Charles had sitting on his mantel.

“Dad?” Charles frowned. “You didn’t have to come out here.”

“When I hear someone’s trying to break in my son’s house, I do.” He looked at the garage door and Demi thought she saw him pale when Keira turned her light in his direction. “Someone decided to play dirty tonight, I see.”

It wasn’t hard to pick up on the fine thread of steel lacing his words.

Charles shook his head. “They egged my house last month and just a couple weeks ago I found all of my tires slashed.” He sighed and shrugged. “Don’t stress about it, Dad. Until you catch whoever killed Olivia, this stuff is going to happen.”

Olivia Henry. Demi had heard the story straight from Charles’s mouth. A young woman had come over from Ireland several months ago and Charles had hired her as his nanny. When she’d been found dead on the cliffs at the base of the lighthouse, the town had been rocked.

And then the accusations and rumors had started about Charles’s involvement with Olivia.

He’d told Demi in no uncertain terms that there had been nothing between him and Olivia except an employer-employee relationship.

Demi believed him.

“Maybe so,” Owen stated, “but that doesn’t mean we’re just going to sit back and take it.”

Keira grunted. “I’m going to check on the kids again.”

She disappeared around the corner of the house and Charles simply watched her go.

Demi thought Charles looked weary, battle worn. Not beaten, or defeated, just tired. She ached for him. Wished she could somehow take his pain away. The lump in her throat surprised her. But she couldn’t help it. She cared.

She hadn’t counted on the spark of attraction that had arched between them when he’d interviewed her.

When Fiona, her landlady and Charles’s other sister, had suggested she apply for the nanny position, she’d mentioned he was having trouble finding help because he was a suspect in the murder of his previous nanny. Demi had at first refused. But Fiona had been adamant about her brother’s innocence and Demi had finally agreed.

And she’d been captivated by the hurting father accused of a murder he didn’t commit. After speaking with him, she had no doubts about his innocence or she wouldn’t be there.

Charles’s gaze landed on hers. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” she reassured him.

Stepping to her side, he placed a hand under her elbow. “Come on. They’ll take care of all this. Let me take you home.” Right now, she depended upon Charles for most of her transportation to and from his home. She’d love to drive, but had no way of getting a driver’s license. Not without some way of identifying herself.

“After she gives a statement,” Owen said.

Demi said, “I’ve told you everything.”

“Go through it one more time, if you don’t mind,” Ryan suggested as he tucked his phone in his back pocket.

“Sure.”

They walked back into the house where Keira paced in front of the fireplace. She looked up. “The twins are fine. Still sleeping. I told Officer Hughes he could take off.”

“Demi’s going to give a statement,” Charles said. “Then I’m going to take her home. You said you were just getting ready to go off duty. Do you mind staying with the kids until I get back?”

“I can do that.”

Aiden stepped into the house. “I think we’ve done all we can do here. I’ll have a cruiser drive by on a regular basis tonight. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

Charles nodded and Demi saw his jaw tighten. “Thanks, Dad.”

As Aiden left, Owen flipped his notebook closed. “I’ll catch up to you later.”

Demi followed Charles out to his car, her heart chugging with dread. Would he tell her that she no longer had a job?

Then certainty filled her.

No, he wouldn’t do that. He needed her. Just like she needed him. Or at least the job. She didn’t need him.

When she’d arrived in town, she’d had a small bag packed with clothes and some money provided by the sweet nurses who had cared for her after her accident.

Fortunately, she’d run into Fiona Fitzgerald Cobb who’d had a vacant apartment above her shop and was willing to take a chance on someone who didn’t have a job and couldn’t remember her name.

Getting the nanny job had proven easier than remembering her name. Charles had been desperate. Careful who he hired, but still desperate.

He started the vehicle but didn’t move to put it in gear. “I’m afraid I’ve allowed you to land in a hornet’s nest by hiring you. I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to quit.”

Charles’s words jerked her attention back to him as she buckled her seat belt. “Quit? Because there’s a jerk out there trying to intimidate you? Because someone’s accusing you of something for which no one has any proof? I don’t think so.”

The relief on his face made her want to reach out to him, soothe his worry and pain.

She jumped when his palm hit the steering wheel.

“I won’t let whoever is doing this send me running with my tail tucked. I won’t.” Charles turned, eyes narrowed as he drilled her with the intensity of his gaze. “I didn’t kill Olivia Henry. I don’t know who did. I just know I didn’t.”

Demi gulped. Olivia had been murdered by a blow to the head. And if Demi understood everything she’d managed to pick up from snatches of muttered conversations, not much had been found to prove Charles innocent.

But nothing with substance had been found to prove him guilty, either.

She let her gaze run over him. Dark hair, flashing blue eyes. Honest blue eyes. Hurting blue eyes. But definitely not the eyes of a cold-blooded killer.

Demi said, “I believe you, Charles. I believed you when you offered me the job and explained your situation. And I believe you now.”

He closed his eyes and leaned back his head against the headrest. “Thank you for that.” He paused. “I’m sorry. You don’t deserve this.”

Demi couldn’t help it. She reached out and curled her fingers around his and squeezed. “It’s okay, Charles. I promise. And for the record, I don’t think you deserve it, either.”

He returned her squeeze then let go to grasp the steering wheel. “I’d better take you home and get back so Keira can get some sleep.”

He backed from the driveway and Demi noticed Ryan standing in the doorway watching them leave. The frown on his face made her blink and she wondered what he was thinking.

After the heavy conversation back at his house, she was ready for a lighter topic. But that wasn’t to be when Charles asked, “Any changes in your memory?”

“No.” She glanced out the window. “I just continue to have flashes of some things, but nothing I can put my finger on. And if I try too hard, I get terrible headaches.”

“Then don’t try. It’ll happen when it happens. That scab on the edge of your hairline looks pretty bad.”

Self-conscious, she raised a hand to touch it. It had mostly healed and she thought it was looking better.

He must have caught her look because he was quick to say, “Hey, I’m sorry, I wasn’t saying it looked bad…bad. It was just a medical observation. I just meant that it was obvious that you suffered a pretty traumatic injury.”

“Oh.” She lowered her hand to clasp it in the other one.

The car slowed and he parked in front of The Reading Nook. The quaint bookstore owned and operated by his sister, Fiona. Demi’s apartment was upstairs above the store.

Before she could get out, he said, “Wait a minute, Demi.”

She turned expectantly.

He tapped his thumb on the steering wheel then said, “You know, when I interviewed you, the fact that you had amnesia put me off a bit. I mean, how could I trust my children to someone who can’t even remember who she is?”

She lifted a brow. “Are you sorry you did?”

“No, of course not.” His quick response reassured her. “But I do have a confession to make.”

Her brow lifted. “What’s that?”

* * *

He cleared his throat. “I have to be honest. I had Owen run a background check on you. On the name you gave me, anyway.”

She tilted her head. “I figured you probably had. You’re not the type to just hand over your children to someone you haven’t looked into.”

He nodded. “Nothing came up, of course. But more importantly, your fingerprints weren’t in the system.”

“The nurses in the hospital gave me my last name. I remembered my first name, but that was it.” She let out a deep breath. “When I came to in the hospital, the police also tried running my fingerprints. Again, they came up empty, but assured me that might be a good thing. At least I’m not in the criminal database.”

At the feeble joke, Charles felt himself smiling.

Another shrug. “I don’t blame you for doing a background check on me.”

He let out a long sigh. “Good, because I was going crazy feeling like I was lying to you. Part of me was afraid you’d be furious.”

“No. I would have done the same thing if the roles were reversed.” Her soft voice pulled him to her. Delicate features framed with honey-blond hair drew him like bees to honey. Her emerald-green eyes wanted to ensnare him. Innocence and gentleness radiated from her. He’d definitely made the right choice in hiring her.

“It’s only been a week, and the twins already adore you,” he said.

A gentle smile pulled at her lips. “The feeling’s mutual.”

There was something about her that he liked. Trusted. Wanted to know more about.

But not tonight.

“Come on, I’ll walk you up.” He climbed out of the truck and walked around to help Demi out.

“So, Fitzgerald,” the voice to his left said, “is this your next innocent victim?”

THREE

Charles whirled. “Burke, what are you doing here?”

“Just enjoying a little walk. Reveling in my freedom, taking in the taste of the night air.” His gaze hardened. “Wondering why criminals are allowed to roam free, given another opportunity to prey on more innocent women.”

Burke Hennessy. A lawyer and his father’s rival for mayor. Burke and Judge Ronald Monroe, who was rumored to be considering a run for mayor, were two peas in a pod. Fitzgerald Bay would be in major trouble should Burke win the election.

Charles held his tongue long enough to get it under control. Then he said, “Knock it off, Burke. This is Demi Taylor. She’s the children’s nanny.”

“Yes, I’d heard you managed to talk someone into taking the position.” Burke smirked and eyed Demi. “Be careful about following in Olivia’s footsteps. Especially if they’re along the edge of some steep cliffs.”

Charles felt his fingers curl into a tight fist. With effort, he loosened it and forced a smile. He would not sink to this man’s level—or do anything to mess up his father’s chances to beat Burke in the election. “Nice to see you, too, Burke. Now if you’ll excuse us…”

He placed his hand on Demi’s rigid back and tried to usher her into the rear entrance of the bookstore.

Burke stepped in front of them, anger smoldering just beneath the surface. Charles felt the tension in his shoulders escalate. Burke jabbed a finger at him. “You know you should be in jail. If the main suspect was anyone else not related to the almighty Fitzgeralds, that person would be rotting in a cell right now.”

“And if there were any proof that I’d killed Olivia, I’d be there, family or no family. But there’s no proof because I didn’t kill her. Get out of the way, Burke. Now.”

Demi walked away from the two of them, pulling her keys from her purse. Charles swallowed hard. Was she scared? Repulsed? Had she decided Burke was right and that she was placing herself in danger by just being in his company?

He remembered the look in her eyes when she’d said she believed him. No, it was something else.

Turning his back on Hennessy, Charles followed Demi. He saw her hands shaking as she unlocked the door and slipped inside.

“You haven’t heard the last of this, Fitzgerald!” Burke hollered.

Charles didn’t bother to turn around and waste any more time or breath on the man. “Demi?” She stopped on the steps and looked back down at him. The fear in her eyes cut him. “Hey, I’m so sorry.”

“No. Don’t apologize. It wasn’t you,” she said with a shudder. “I had a flash of something. Of violence and anger and…and I just had to get away from that man.”

Charles hurried up to her and put a hand on her shoulder. “I understand. I was in a bit of a hurry to get away from him myself.”

“Is he gone?”

“Yes, I think so. I didn’t stick around to make sure.”

She took a deep breath and lifted a brow. “Too busy trying not to smash his nose?”

Charles jerked then gave a surprised laugh. “You noticed?”

“Oh, yeah. I noticed.” He felt some of the tension leave the shoulder under his hand. She bit her lip then said, “I’m sorry I was such a wimp. I didn’t mean to just walk away and leave you to deal with him, I just…”

He placed a finger on her lips. Her soft lips.

He pulled back his finger and rubbed it with his thumb even as he said, “No need to apologize. Burke’s a pain with a loud mouth, but he’s harmless. The trick is to just ignore him.”

She nodded and finished the trek up the steps. At the top, she turned down the short hallway that led to her apartment.

Charles caught her before she got to the door. “Demi, I want to make something really clear.”

“Sure, what is it?”

He raked a hand through his hair. “The rumor is that Olivia and I were romantically involved.” A frown creased her forehead and he resisted the urge to smooth the shallow lines. “We weren’t. She was my children’s nanny and I trusted her with my children. She was a pretty private person, but I’d like to think we were becoming friends. There were no romantic feelings between us whatsoever.”

Her eyes stayed locked on his for the longest time and he wanted to squirm under the scrutiny, but he didn’t. He just stood there as she decided whether she believed him or not.

Finally, she smiled. “I believed you the first time you told me that. Tonight hasn’t changed anything.”

Key ready, she reached out to unlock the door when Charles stopped her again, his hand on hers. “Wait a minute. It’s open.”

Demi gripped the keys tighter and pulled back. “That’s weird.”

“You probably just didn’t pull it shut behind you hard enough when you left earlier.”

The doubt on her face said she wasn’t buying it.

And after the night he’d just had, he wasn’t sure he was, either.

* * *

Demi stared at the door. “Maybe Fiona needed to get in for some reason.” But why? And why would she leave the door open? “The furniture was delivered last week. Maybe they had something else to bring up…or…or…something.”

And what about Chloe, the stray cat she’d taken in the day she’d moved into the apartment? Chloe had followed Demi up the stairs and sat outside the door meowing until Demi had finally let her in. Chloe had made herself at home and some of Demi’s loneliness had dissipated.

Had Chloe slipped out the open door?

Worry for the cat and other emotions swept through her.

Unexplainable fear.

Breath-stealing panic.

Something flashed in her mind. A clenched fist, a harsh yell. Pain lancing through her head. She blinked, raised a hand to her forehead, felt the scar.

Then the image was gone, leaving a pounding headache in its wake.

“Demi? What is it? What did you remember?”

“Fear,” she blurted out. “Just a horrible fear, but I don’t know the source. I don’t know why!” She lifted a hand to her head and pressed as though she could push the headache out and the memories back in.

He pulled her to him while she shook. His arms held her, comforted her. Offered her shelter.

Swallowing, her breath hitched as she gathered herself and pulled away to face the door once more.

“I’m okay.” Her hand reached out to push the door open. She appreciated Charles’s comforting presence behind her. “You’re probably right,” she said, hating the tremble in her voice, but unable to do anything about it. “I’m sure I just didn’t close the door tight.” From what she could see, all looked normal. Except…

“Chloe?” she called softly. “Here, kitty.”

Demi stepped inside for a better look in the kitchen. “Everything looks fine in here. But my cat usually greets me when I come in.”

She moved to the small living area, Charles right behind her. It was just as she’d left it. The new couch hugged the far wall with the afghan Fiona had given her bunched up against one end. The coffee table held the latest book she’d been reading. Her morning’s coffee cup sat on a coaster on the end table.

Normal.

But where was Chloe?

Her pulse slowed and her breathing evened out. But sorrow hit her. If Chloe was gone, Demi knew she would miss the cat who, for the most part, had been her only company in the evenings for the past week.

She walked the few steps to the bedroom and peeked in. All looked fine. Just as she was about to check under the bed for the missing feline, her gaze landed on the closet door.

It was shut.

“What is it?”

Charles’s voice in her left ear made her jump. He’d picked up on her sudden stillness.

“The closet’s shut.” She pushed her wire-rimmed glasses up on her nose.

“And that’s a bad thing?”

“It was open this morning when I left to take care of the kids.”

Why could she remember that and not her last name? Regardless, she distinctly remembered leaving it open. Heart thudding, sweat broke out on her upper lip.

Her front door had been cracked open. Had someone been in the apartment? Someone looking for something? For her?

Go, get away. Run.

Fear resurrected its head and cut off her breath. But why? Why did she feel this fear that seemed to come from nowhere? There had to be a reason. Why couldn’t she remember?

“Maybe we should just leave,” she said. “Something’s not right here.”

He placed a hand on her shoulder and the comfort it offered made her shiver. “Let me just check the closet for you.”

“No!”

And the images hit her again. A flash of blood, a heavy hand on her face. Someone screaming. Was that her?

She gasped, her breaths came in pants and that sweeping fear that came from a place she couldn’t explain nearly consumed her.

Shaking with the urge to flee, she stepped back never taking her eyes from the closet door.

“Demi.” His gentle voice forced her gaze to his. Gulping, she saw concern, caring…a warmth that thawed the ice freezing in her veins. “Let me check,” he insisted. “It’s fine. Really. If someone was in there, I feel sure he would have made his presence known by now.”

Pulling in a deep breath, she nodded. Then firmed her jaw.

Walking to the end table, she picked up the lamp and stepped back to the closet door. “All right, I’m ready.”

“What are you doing?”

“If someone’s in the closet, I’m not leaving you to fight him alone.”

The tightness along his jawline that never seemed to ease, finally did. He smiled and nodded. Then his expression turned hard again as he eyed the closet.

* * *

Charles walked to the closet and swung open the door, even as he crouched in a defensive position ready for whatever might come at him. A cat darted out, startling him.

His pulse pounded and he realized how tightly wound his nerves were. Of course after what he’d come home to tonight, it wasn’t a surprise. And then Burke’s confrontation in the alley…

He watched Demi set the lamp back on the table then lean over to snag the cat and hold her close. “Silly cat, how did you get locked in there?”

“Is the window open? Maybe there was a draft and it blew the door shut.”

Demi walked over to the only window in the small room and pushed back the curtains. “No. It’s closed.”

“Well the cat didn’t close herself in the closet.” He shrugged. “I don’t know. It is kind of strange, I’ll admit, but maybe someone from the bookstore wandered upstairs, found your door and opened it to see what was behind it. Seeing that it was an apartment, maybe the person didn’t quite shut the apartment door well enough and the draft caused the closet door to shut.”

Demi lifted a brow at the weak suggestion. Charles grimaced. “Yeah, I’m not really buying that, either.”

Demi’s frown deepened. “I suppose something like that could have happened. But I’m pretty sure I locked the apartment door when I left earlier.” Reaching inside the closet, she flipped on the light switch.

He could see the sum total of her wardrobe. Four or five shirts. Three pairs of jeans, two pairs of shorts and a sweatshirt and a light windbreaker. On the floor, there were a pair of sandals and some pink slippers. She wore her only pair of tennis shoes.

The sparse selection stunned him. He thought about his ex-wife and her bursting-at-the-seams closet. He’d always been tripping over her shoes that seemed to multiply daily.

And then there was Demi.

Charles felt his heart ache for the fragile-looking woman who’d been victimized twice in one night.

* * *

Demi saw the pity in Charles’s eyes and turned away from it. She wasn’t ashamed of her lack of material goods and she didn’t need anyone feeling sorry for her. Straightening her back, she firmed her jaw. Another look around confirmed what she’d originally thought. “Nothing’s missing.”

“You’re sure?”

For some strange reason, Demi felt like giggling. “Trust me, I’m sure. I have no jewelry, no fancy clothes, nothing. There’s nothing worth stealing.”

Charles’s stare made the back of Demi’s neck heat up. Ignoring the sensation and praying the flush didn’t spread to her cheeks, Demi looked around. “Everything looks fine. I guess no one was up here after all.” She frowned, not understanding how this could be when the closet door was shut. “I’ll ask Fiona if she came up here. If she didn’t, then—” she lifted her shoulders in a shrug “—I have no explanation.”

“Is there any reason someone would want to break into your home?”

“No.” She paused. “At least I don’t think so…I mean…” she stammered to a halt. How would she know? “I don’t really know.”

“Of course there is,” he muttered answering his own question. “Someone who might be mad that you’re working for me. Maybe this is just the beginning.”

Demi came to his side. “Stop it.”

He looked at her. She frowned at him and he could see the frustration in her eyes. Charles sighed. “You’re right. I don’t need to be having a pity party. But I hate to think of you being in danger because of me.” He paused. “Will you be all right to stay here alone?”

Her chin jutted out. “Of course. Nobody was here. I’m just being jumpy after what happened at your house.” She glanced at the clock on the wall. “You’d better head home. I’m sure Keira is tired from working all day and is ready to spend some time in her own house.”

Charles rubbed his chin, wanting to protest. But he knew she was right. Again. “Okay.” He walked to the door then turned. “Tomorrow’s Saturday.” He found himself fidgeting with the doorknob and forced his hands to his side. “I know it’s your day off, but…ah…how would you feel about spending it with me and the kids?” He wanted to spend more time with her. Getting to know her better was at the top of his priority list. At first he tried to tell himself it was because of the kids, but if he was honest, he’d admit he wanted to get to know her better…for himself.

Demi swallowed. Hard. Excitement swirled in the pit of her stomach even as she wondered if spending the day with her boss—her very attractive boss—was a wise thing to do.

Probably not.

“Sure,” she said. “I’d love that.”

His shoulders relaxed and when he smiled, his blue eyes crinkled at the corners. “Great. I’ll let Brianne and Aaron know. They’ll be thrilled.”

What about you? she wanted to ask. But bit her lip in time to keep the words from spilling out.

“Nine o’clock?” he asked.

“I’ll be ready.”

She shut the door behind him and made sure the lock clicked. She would definitely be ready to spend the day with them, but wondered if she would get any sleep at all.

Looking around, seeing nothing out of place, she wondered what she was missing.

Because no matter what she had said to the contrary, she felt sure someone had been in her apartment.

FOUR

Saturday morning dawned a little overcast, but no rain fell yet. The thought of the day to come sent a twinge of excitement through Demi, spurring her to toss back the covers and pad toward the bathroom. She had something to do today besides sit in her apartment spilling her guts to Chloe and bemoaning the fact that her memory hadn’t returned yet.

Self-pity was no fun. It was time to start making plans for the future, start to live again and try to either get her memory back or accept that it was gone for good and move on.

Of course she wanted her memory back, but if that wasn’t meant to be, she was determined not to let the amnesia negatively affect the rest of her life.

At least that was the pep talk for this morning. Tonight, when she was all alone once again, she would have to figure out how to keep the despair and frustration at bay.

Briefly, she thought about the Bible she’d seen on the shelf in the bookstore. Maybe she should turn to God for comfort. Making a mental note to think about that, she went into the kitchen for her morning cup of coffee.

And realized she didn’t smell it.

Another thing she’d discovered since getting out of the hospital was that she loved coffee. Any kind, flavored, black, with cream. It didn’t matter.

The last thing she did before bed was set the timer on the coffeemaker Fiona had given her as a housewarming gift.

Only she’d been so distracted last night, she’d forgotten to set the timer.

She filled the carafe then opened the cabinet to pull out the canister of coffee.

When she pulled off the top, she gaped.

A piece of paper sat on top of the ground coffee.

Wariness flooded her. How did this get in her coffee can? Reaching in, she pulled it out and read, Stay away from Charles Fitzgerald. You don’t belong here.

Knees suddenly week, she dropped the paper back into the can, slapped on the top and gasped, her lungs deflated.

Flashes of a hard fist. Shouted angry words. Pain in her head.

She cried out and sank to the floor, hands gripping her hair. Her head throbbed, but she forced herself to think, to remember.

“No!” The word echoed, the pain in her head intensified and tears slipped down her cheeks. Heart thudding, head pounding, she whispered, “Please, stop. Stop.”

For the next few minutes she sat there and emptied her mind of every thought. She couldn’t force it. And she had to pull herself together for Charles and the children.

Twenty minutes later, a fine tremor still shook her, but she took a look in the mirror as she ran a brush through her hair. The excited anticipation of the day had waned because of the message still in her coffee can—and the disturbing flashes that resonated in the corners of her mind.

But the thing holding her together was the thought of being with Charles and the children.

That gnawing in the pit of her stomach agitated her as she realized she’d been right. Her instincts had been dead-on when she thought someone had been in the apartment yesterday.

But who?

And what should she do with the odd—and scary—message? Was it from someone who was warning her away from Charles because of what happened to Olivia? But what a weird way to do so.

Should she report it to the police? But what could they do? And why say she didn’t belong there? Why would someone go to all the trouble to sneak into her apartment and leave that in her coffee can?

The coffee can.

A strange place for a note. Why put it there?

Unless the person knew her. Knew her habits.

A chill swept through her.

The person had to know that she loved coffee. That she would be in that coffee can first thing this morning. Or soon anyway.

Or was it simply coincidence? The coffeemaker sat in plain sight on the counter. It would be a short thought to realize there would be coffee in the cabinet somewhere.

But why?

Her head started to ache again. Determined to push the incident out of her mind until she felt ready to deal with it, she focused on the excitement she’d felt when she first woke up and remembered what she was doing for the day.

She muttered, “You really shouldn’t be so excited about spending the day with Charles and the kids. He’s your employer, nothing more.”

She flushed as she said the words out loud because she knew they were a lie.

She’d been attracted to him the minute she’d looked into those blue eyes and seen compassion—and a spark of something more as he’d questioned her during the interview for the nanny position.

Wishing she had some lip gloss or lipstick made her flush hotter and she rolled her eyes at her reflection. Shiny lips hadn’t gotten her the job. Trustworthiness and capability were the qualities Charles had been looking for, and she’d assured him that she had both. He was obviously a good father who was very careful about whom he left his children with.

As well he should be.

But today wasn’t about work even though she looked forward to caring for the children during their time together. Most of all, she wanted to get to know Charles a little better. Spending the day together would allow that.

She didn’t mind the idea one bit.

But someone else did. Someone else thought she didn’t belong here. Here in town? Here with Charles? Here in The Reading Nook?

Again, who?

Standing at the window in her bedroom, she glanced down in the small alley that ran behind her building. It was a shortcut to the other street and had a lot of traffic most days.

She’d stood in this spot many times since moving in. Just watching, wondering about the lives that passed under her window.

Today, the foot traffic was light.

A solitary figure in a hooded sweatshirt, hands tucked in the front pockets walked slowly. Then paused in front of the back door that would lead into her building. She watched him reach out, his arm moved in a twisting motion.

What was he doing?

Seeing if the door was unlocked?

Fortunately, she and Fiona kept it locked unless there was a delivery expected. Tensing, she waited to see if he could get in. Was he the one who’d broken in and left the note?

When he dropped his hand and turned to walk off, she breathed a sigh of relief.

Chloe wound herself around Demi’s left ankle, distracting her from her thoughts and unanswered questions. She picked up the cat and carried her to the bed. Setting the animal on the coverlet, she asked, “Shorts or jeans?”

Chloe commenced cleaning her left front paw.

“Right. That’s what I thought, too. Jeans it is.”

Pulling up her hair into a ponytail, Demi dressed in her thrift store jeans and a flowered top. She opened her purse and grabbed a ten-dollar bill that she stuffed into her front pocket.

She picked up the cell phone Charles had insisted she have the first day she’d reported for work and stuck that in her back pocket. Then she snatched her light jacket from the closet. Unable to bring herself to close the door, she left it cracked open.

Demi stepped out into the hall and pulled the apartment door tight behind her. She double-checked the lock, doing her best to push yesterday’s and this morning’s incidents from her mind. Shivering at the unpleasant memories, she pocketed the key and slipped into her jacket.

Once down the steps and outside, she looked around for the man who’d stopped at her building and tested the doorknob. Seeing no one, she told herself to relax.

Since she was much too early to meet Charles and the twins—and there was no way she was touching that coffee in her cabinet—Demi decided to have breakfast at the Sugar Plum Café. Excitement at seeing Charles again swirled through her. And yet she couldn’t help wonder at the reasons behind the invitation. Did he just want extra help with the twins? Or was it possible he was interested in her as a woman and a potential date? She grimaced. It would do no good to ask questions she didn’t have the answers for. “Just take it one day at a time,” she whispered.

Clouds hung low and gray, but the sun peeped out behind them so she hoped the rain would hold off long enough to enjoy the day with the Charles Fitzgerald family.

After several glances up and down the street, she crossed at the intersection, then followed the short road past the park. Splashing through a puddle left over from the night rain, she finally found herself in front of the café. The white structure with the large porch was welcoming. And yet, she couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching her. Waiting for her.

But who? And why?

The man she’d seen trying to get in the building? Demi scoffed at herself. He was probably someone who wanted to go to the bookstore and thought he could take a shortcut by going in the back door.

Surely that was all it was.

But what about the note?

Still feeling a hovering sense of foreboding, Demi shivered as she stepped inside and took in the atmosphere. One of comfort and refuge with tables and chairs and couches. The display of pictures tacked to the walls was mind-boggling. Everywhere one looked, a picture smiled back.

Several patrons sat alone, working on laptops. Tempting smells made her empty stomach rumble and she headed straight for the glass-front case display. An assortment of cakes and pastries called to her. She wanted one of each, but she’d only been working for one week and her funds were still tight.

“Can I help you?”

Demi jumped and turned to see a pretty woman in her late twenties. Her brown eyes sparkled friendliness. Victoria, the owner of the Sugar Plum Café.

After checking the prices on the menu posted on the wall, Demi chose the cheapest option. “I’d love a cup of coffee, black, please.”

“Sure thing.” In a few minutes, Victoria returned and handed her the cup. “So how are things going?”

“Pretty well.”

“Charles hired you to be the children’s nanny, didn’t he?”

“I guess it’s all over town by now.”

“Indeed. I’m just glad you’re not buying into all that nonsense about Charles killing Olivia.”

“No. I’m not buying into it.”

From what Demi understood, Olivia had come to Fitzgerald Bay from Ireland three months before her murder, a stranger in town, but one who quickly made friends with Victoria and her daughter, Paige, when she’d stayed at the inn.

Curiosity lifted Victoria’s brow. “So, you work for my future brother-in-law, but I don’t really know anything about you. Do you have family around here?”

Victoria was engaged to Owen Fitzgerald, Charles’s younger brother and a detective with the police force.

“I…” What could she say? I don’t know? I don’t remember? Demi forced a smile as she handed over three precious dollars. “No. I’m just looking for a new start. Fitzgerald Bay seemed like the kind of place where I could find that.”

“You’re right about that. Why don’t you have a seat over there by the fire? It may be May, but it’s still chilly here first thing in the morning so I keep the fire going.”

Demi nodded. “Thanks. I’ll do that.” She started toward the comfy-looking chair by the flickering flames.

Once seated, she grabbed the abandoned newspaper on the table before her and opened it. Of course the front page story was still about Olivia Henry’s unsolved murder. The first murder in forty years in this town. But there was nothing about the incident at Charles’s house last night. She shivered and set the paper back on the table.

The fire crackled and the warmth felt lovely. Soon, she’d warmed up enough to shrug out of the light jacket one of the nurses had given her before she’d been discharged from the hospital three weeks ago.

Everything she now owned in the world had been given to her by another person. The familiar fear filled her, coming from a place she couldn’t define. She just knew it was very real. A mental picture of the note in her coffee grounds added to that feeling. Someone had been in her home. Warning her to stay away from Charles.

She couldn’t fathom it. But who? Who?

And should she report it?

But what would she say? What could the police do about it? She continued to toy with the idea. Maybe she would tell Charles about it and see what advice he had to offer. Then again, if she told Charles, that would just add to his guilt about hiring her. What if he fired her because he thought it would keep her safe?

She shuddered. Jobs in Fitzgerald Bay were few and far between. She couldn’t afford to lose the nanny position. No, she’d just keep quiet about the note and hope Olivia’s murderer was found soon.

Demi briefly wondered if she should pray about everything. Did she even know how?

Dear God, please give me my memories back. I need to know who I am. I need to know why I’m so afraid and constantly feeling like I need to watch my back… Please….

Closing her eyes, she did her best to bring forth memories from before she woke in the hospital.

And couldn’t do it. Not even one. Just the feeling of fear whenever she tried to remember.

And the headache.

And now the note in her coffee can. The headache worsened.

Quickly, she tossed her thoughts in another direction.

Fitzgerald Bay. A small close-knit community that was friendly to outsiders. At least that’s what the website advertised when she’d been narrowing down her choices.

And now she had a place to live and a good job. She was doing all right for someone who’d had nothing and no one three weeks ago.

She glanced at the clock on the wall behind the counter. Eight forty-five. She still had a few minutes before she needed to walk to the park. Demi leaned her head against the cushioned back of the chair and stared out the window while she sipped her coffee. Her mind spun, wondering, desperate to remember who she was, where she was from, if she had relatives that missed her. She swallowed hard against the tears that sprang to the surface.

“Hey.”

Demi jumped and did her best to hide her whirling emotions from Victoria who stood before her holding a plate of sandwiches and some delicious-looking pastries.

“Oh. Sorry, I was…thinking.”

Victoria set the plate on the table beside Demi and said, “Help yourself.”

“What? Oh, no, that’s okay. I have money.” She flushed and wondered if she looked like a charity case.

Victoria shrugged. “I just thought I’d give you a sampling of what we serve here. Maybe tempt you to come back.”

Now Demi felt embarrassed. And hungry. “Well, thank you.” She snitched a croissant filled with chicken salad and took a bite as she tried to push the depressing thoughts from her mind. “Wow. This is delicious. I’ll definitely be back.”

They laughed and Victoria said, “It’s my own chicken salad recipe. Pretty good, huh?”

“You could win ribbons with this stuff.” Demi quickly polished off the first sandwich and took a sip of coffee.

Victoria laughed. “I knew I liked you.” She settled into the chair opposite Demi. “So, how do you like working for Charles? I know it’s been only one week, but you must have some impressions.”

What was the woman fishing for? “I’m very grateful he hired me. The children are definitely a handful, but very precious.”

“I know. They’re great. And Charles is a wonderful man regardless of what you might hear said around town.”

“Oh, come on, Victoria, how can you say that?”

Demi and Victoria turned in unison to find the owner of the voice. A young woman with her blond hair hanging around one shoulder planted her hands on her hips. “Charles might be guilty of murder.”

Victoria sighed. “Meghan Henry, cousin to Olivia Henry, meet Demi Taylor.”

Demi gave the adamant young woman with the pretty hazel eyes a tremulous smile. “Hi.”

“Hi. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have interrupted your conversation, but I’m just very concerned for you. For anyone who has anything to do with Charles Fitzgerald.” And she did look worried, a genuine kind of worried, not the fake kind of worried most people in the town had expressed in order to pump her for information about the Fitzgeralds.

Frowning, Demi exchanged a look with Victoria then said, “I appreciate your concern, but Charles has been nothing but kind to me.”

Meghan sighed. “Well, I would watch my back if I were you.” She slipped her purse over her shoulder. “I’m in the cottage on the beach, the one just up from the lighthouse. If you ever need anything, please come see me.”

Again, sincerity rang in Meghan’s words and Demi wasn’t sure what to think. “Well, thank you. I appreciate that.”

“Be careful, okay?” She glanced between her and Victoria. “See you around.”

With that, she left.

Demi raised a brow at Victoria who sighed. “I hope you won’t take what she said to heart. I don’t believe for a minute that he murdered Olivia.”

“I know. I don’t believe he did, either.”

“Good.” Approval radiated from the woman. “He’s needed some help for a long time. His father’s housekeeper, Mrs. Mulrooney, is wonderful, but she can’t keep up with two rambunctious toddlers. I’m so glad Charles found you.”

Demi felt a smile slip across her face. “Thanks. It was actually his sister Fiona who told me about the job.” She looked at the clock again. “And now I’ve got to run. Nice to meet you.”

“You, too. I’m sure we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.”

* * *

Charles gave the swing a push and felt his heart lighten at his children’s laughter. His eyes drifted from his kids to the direction he knew Demi would come from.

He’d had a hard time falling asleep last night as her image kept appearing in his thoughts—in between wondering who’d vandalized his house. He preferred thoughts of Demi. She was beautiful, had a gentle spirit about her—and she scared him to pieces.

She’d been in his life just a short time, but already, he felt as though he’d known her for a while. And while it was true he didn’t know as much as he’d like due to the amnesia, he liked what he knew, what he’d observed.

He also knew that if he had any brains at all, he’d find a woman old enough to be his mother to care for the children simply to cut down on the wagging tongues. Unfortunately, no one in that age category seemed to be in the market for a job that taxing. Or one that had anything to do with him.

Him. A murder suspect. He couldn’t wrap his mind around it. But apparently the townspeople didn’t have any trouble believing it. Everywhere he went, he felt eyes on him, knew they were wondering if he was a killer. His medical practice had suffered as had his confidence in most of those he used to call friends.

His gaze went to a young couple strolling hand in hand along the park path as though they didn’t have a care in the world. He remembered those days. Sometimes he missed them. Then he looked at Brianne and Aaron and wouldn’t change the past even if he could.

His eyes went back to The Reading Nook bookstore.

But Demi had him thinking more and more about the future and what it might be like to find the one he was supposed to spend the rest of his life with.

A feeling of someone watching pulled him from his thoughts. Glancing around, Charles spotted two women on a park bench near the sandbox. They stared at him as they talked.

Christina Hennessy and Dolores Nunez, nanny for Burke and Christina’s toddler. Distaste curled through him. He didn’t care for Mrs. Hennessy much, not simply because she was Burke’s wife, but because she was such a fake. Probably why she and his ex, Kathleen, had gotten along so well.

And still, she didn’t take her gaze from him. Out of a morbid sense of humor, he lifted a hand and waved.

Her right brow rose and she deliberately ignored him, turning her gaze on the nanny.

Why the woman needed a nanny was beyond him. She didn’t work and didn’t seem to have any responsibilities that he could see.

Speaking of nannies, Demi surprised him and stepped out of the Sugar Plum Café instead of The Reading Nook and headed his way. He tried to forget about the pair across the park.

But the hair on the back of his neck rose as he continued to feel their stares. He reminded himself not to let their snide glances and whispered words affect him.

But a small part of him wanted to stomp across the park and demand they cease their nasty gossip. Instead, he took a deep breath and watched Demi approach. The concerned frown on her features told him that she’d picked up on his expression. With effort, he loosened his jaw and relaxed his shoulders.

Only to tense up again when Burke stepped into view. The man glanced at him and pursed his lips as though seeing something distasteful.

He said something to Christina and the nanny, then practically shouted, “Come on. It’s not safe for Georgina to play here. Apparently, they don’t screen the people who use this place and will allow murderers around small children.”

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