Главная страница | Современные любовные романы | The Hamilton Heir

The Hamilton Heir
Valerie Hansen


THE DAVIS LANDING OBSERVER THE GOSSIP GURU …hears tough tycoon Tim Hamilton - the legitimate son currently running Hamilton Media for his ailing father - was seen squiring his assistant, Dawn Leroux, around town last week. Inside information is that Tim wrecked Dawn's car and offered to lend her a replacement, but her concern was with the people on her meal-delivery route.Only time will tell if the lovely Ms. Leroux's sweet nature can tame Tim's all-business beast and turn him into a human being.









Tim swept his arm in an arc and gave a slight bow. “After you, ma’am.”


Dawn shook her head and chuckled. That pleased him. He was still trying to get over the shock of finding out she didn’t see him as the kind of man who kept his word. He was determined to show her his true character, though he wasn’t sure how. Granted, he could be rather ruthless in business if the situation called for it, but in his private life he wasn’t so bad, was he? Introspection didn’t show any major flaws that he was aware of. Therefore, he planned to prove to Dawn what a great guy he really was.

Why? The surprising question gave him pause. Why, indeed? He was Dawn’s boss, not her date. Why should he care about her personal opinion of him as long as she continued to do her job well?

DAVIS LANDING:

Nothing is stronger than a family’s love




VALERIE HANSEN


was thirty when she awoke to the presence of the Lord in her life and turned to Jesus. In the years that followed she worked with young children, both in church and secular environments. She also raised a family of her own and played foster mother to a wide assortment of furred and feathered critters.

Married to her high school sweetheart since age seventeen, she now lives in an old farmhouse she and her husband renovated with their own hands. She loves to hike the wooded hills behind the house and reflect on the marvelous turn her life has taken. Not only is she privileged to reside among the loving, accepting folks in the breathtakingly beautiful Ozark Mountains of Arkansas, she also gets to share her personal faith by telling the stories of her heart for Steeple Hill’s Love Inspired line.

Life doesn’t get much better than that!




The Hamilton Heir

Valerie Hansen








To Joe, who loves me unconditionally. And to John and Karen, who first inspired me to find a church home. They are all three so dear, it brings tears to my eyes.


The father of the righteous shall greatly rejoice; and he that begets a wise child shall have joy in him.

—Proverbs 23:24










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

Epilogue

Letter to Reader

Questions for Discussion




Chapter One


Dawn Leroux tensed the moment her boss pushed open the door of his private office and entered hers. She was hard at work, as usual, so no one could question her diligence. Just the same, there was always a niggling feeling of intimidation associated with being in the presence of Timothy Hamilton.

“I left a short list of personnel on my desk,” Tim said. “I’ll want their files updated and waiting for me when I get back. It shouldn’t take you too long.”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Hamilton. Anything else?”

“Not that I can think of.”

“Fine. I’ll take care of it right away.”

Dawn smiled inwardly. She wished she had a nickel for every time she’d told her boss that very thing. Being his administrative assistant wasn’t a bad assignment as long as she was quick to respond to his orders—and do things his way. The man was predictable, if nothing else. Whatever he wanted done, he wanted it done yesterday.

“Will you be out of the office long?” she asked, pen in hand, as he breezed past her desk.

He pushed back his cuff to check his Rolex. “I have a ten o’clock meeting with Ed Bradshaw in the Dispatch office downstairs, then lunch with my mother at twelve. If you need me, we’ll probably be across the street at Betty’s. Mom prefers the Bakeshoppe.”

“I can understand why. The food is delicious.” Dawn was making notes. “Is that all?”

“For the moment,” Tim said. He tapped the breast pocket of his immaculate gray suit. “If I think of anything else, I’ll phone you.” He paused. “You’ll be here?”

“All day,” Dawn said pleasantly, knowing exactly what he meant. “I brown-bagged it today.” She gestured toward a lower drawer of her desk to reassure him. Knowing Tim Hamilton, he’d chain her to the stupid desk 24-7 if he thought he could get away with it! The man was so focused on business he made a normal workaholic look like a hopeless slacker.

“Right.” Tim was already striding away and disappearing through the door as he spoke.

Dawn heard the outer door close and sighed with relief. She stretched, fingers laced together, hands raised over her head. She loved her job, she really did, but ever since his older brother Jeremy had left town in a huff and Tim had moved up in the Hamilton Media corporate hierarchy, he’d acted as if his every act was of monumental importance. He even drank his morning coffee with deliberateness. The poor man was more of a machine than a human being, although she knew he’d be incensed if he suspected that anyone, especially a member of his staff, felt sorry for him.

Sighing, she breathed a quick prayer for her boss’s mental health—and her own—then rose and went into his private office to retrieve the list he’d mentioned.

She paused at the window overlooking the meandering Cumberland River. Fall had already touched this part of Tennessee. The trees along the water were bright and bold, soon to lose their leaves.

Dawn wrapped her arms around herself and gave a little shiver. Her home state of Louisiana might stay hotter in the summer than a bowl of Mama’s homemade jambalaya but it made up for it with mild winters. Though she loved Davis Landing and the Nashville area, there were still times when she longed for a cup of rich Café du Monde coffee and one of their famous beignets dusted with powdered sugar. Thankfully that terrible hurricane had spared the French Quarter of New Orleans.

Her stomach growled. Thinking about food was making her hungry far too early in the day. She swung her long blond hair back with a toss of her head, smoothed her skirt and returned to her desk. At five foot three she didn’t have a lot of room to store extra pounds and she didn’t want to lose control of her eating habits. There weren’t many areas of her life over which she had complete control and she wasn’t about to relinquish what little she did have.



The heavy, brass doors of the elevator slid open and Tim stepped out on the ground floor. He knew better than to pass through the lobby and engage either Louise or Herman Gordon in casual conversation so he whipped around and ducked into the newspaper office. The elderly Gordons took their jobs as Hamilton Media greeter and guard far too seriously to suit him, and both were terrible gossips. Unless he wanted to listen to their opinions on everything from the weather to their favorite TV shows, he knew it was best to avoid them entirely.

He waved to his sister, Heather, in passing. She absentmindedly returned his greeting with a nod and a smile while toting an armload of paper out the door toward the elevator. Tim figured she was probably headed back up to her Nashville Living office on the second floor. He was pleased to see her applying herself. It was never easy to manage staff and he sure didn’t want to have to reprimand anyone in his own family. There were times when he secretly envied his father’s unwavering sternness. Wallace Hamilton was not a man to trifle with. All six of his children knew that, even Jeremy.

Thoughts of his older brother made Tim’s jaw muscles clench. Now that they all knew the truth about Jeremy’s parentage it explained a lot. No wonder he’d never had the inherent drive or the business savvy of Wallace’s other children. The biggest puzzle was why a perfectionist like Wallace had allowed a laid-back guy like Jeremy to run Hamilton Media at all.

Tim brushed aside his troubling musings and headed straight for the editor’s office. Bradshaw’s desk was so piled with papers it looked like a copy machine had exploded on it. Tim would have chastised him for his lack of organization if he’d been present.

Frustrated, Tim whirled and accosted the first Dispatch employee he came to. “Lyle. Where’s Bradshaw? Have you seen him?”

“Sorry. Don’t have a clue, boss,” the seasoned reporter said. “Maybe Felicity knows where he’s at.”

Wondering what the man’s grades in English class had been, Tim scanned the half-walled cubicles in the newsroom. Heads down, fingers flying on keyboards, everyone was so busy looking busy it was hard to tell who was who.

He finally spotted Felicity Simmons, his brother Chris’s girlfriend, returning from the company break room. “Felicity!”

“I was just getting a cup of coffee, Mr. Hamilton,” she said quickly as she glanced at her watch. “I was only gone twelve minutes, so technically I’m coming back early.”

“I don’t care about that,” Tim said, annoyed. “I want to know if you’ve seen Bradshaw.”

She glanced over her shoulder. “Ed? I passed him in the hall. He was just leaving. Said something about a sick cat, I think. I suppose he was going home.”

“Terrific.” Tim scowled. “Okay. Maybe I can catch him in the parking lot. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome, Mr. Hamilton. Have a good day.”

Tim’s scowl deepened. A good day? A good day was when things flowed smoothly, not when you had unforeseen changes foisted on you. If Bradshaw really had gone home to look after a sick animal instead of keeping their appointment, Tim was going to mention more than his poor office housekeeping. He wasn’t about to try to run a publishing empire like Hamilton Media without the complete support of his staff, from the senior editors all the way on down to the likes of Louise and Herman Gordon. Wallace had always understood that and so did Tim. There was no other way to ensure success.

He took an incoming cell phone call with his usual efficiency, waving at the Gordons in passing but not slowing his pace as he left the building. “Oh, hi, Mom. How’s Dad this morning?” He knew the answer but felt he had to ask.

“There’s been no change,” Nora said sadly. “Are you sure you can spare the time to have lunch with me? I know how busy you are and—”

“Nonsense. I always have time for you, you know that.” He slid behind the wheel of his silver BMW, slammed the door and turned the key in the ignition.

“I know, but…”

“Where are you now?”

“At the hospital. Where else?”

“Exactly,” Tim said. “You’ve been spending way too much time there for your own good. You won’t do Dad any good if you ruin your health, too.”

He slipped the car into Reverse and started to back out of his reserved spot in front of the old brick building they’d renovated to house Hamilton Media. Before he headed for Bradshaw’s house he’d cruise the employee parking lot and see if the editor’s car was still there. Felicity might have been wrong. There was no sense running all over town if he didn’t have to.

Tim had the tiny cell phone pinned between his chin and shoulder. He felt it starting to slip and made a grab for it, leaning to one side in the process. “Oops!” He recovered. “Sorry, Mom. Almost dropped you.”

That moment of inattention was all it took to ruin his morning completely. He glanced up, never dreaming he’d see another car so close. The sun was in his eyes, half blinding him. His foot twitched instinctively, only it was poised over the accelerator, not the brake pedal. In the split second it took for him to realize his mistake and switch to the brakes, his bumper had smashed the other car’s grille.

Astounded, Tim bit back a colorful comment. That idiotic driver had come out of nowhere! Why didn’t people watch where they were going?

“Tim?” his mother said, “are you okay? I thought I heard a crash.”

“Fender bender,” Tim said. “I’m fine.”

“Oh, honey. I’m so glad you’re all right. I’ll talk to you later, okay? Call me if we’re still on for lunch?”

“Sure.”

Flipping the phone closed, Tim climbed out of his luxury car, fully expecting to confront the careless driver who had run into him. He shaded his eyes from the glare that had temporarily distorted his perception during the accident. His jaw went slack. There was no adversary to argue with. He’d smashed into an empty parked car! How embarrassing.

He removed his suit jacket as he circled the accident scene and hunkered down to assess the damage. The car he’d hit looked like a clunker but its owner probably valued it just the same. He’d better jot down the license number and drop it off for his administrative assistant to deal with before he left the lot.

Rather than phone from there and possibly have to explain his stupidity in the presence of passing employees, he decided to return to the office and make sure Dawn understood his wish to assume complete responsibility for what had occurred.

He still couldn’t fathom how he’d made such a careless mistake but he had. Naturally he’d pay for whatever repairs were necessary. The poor old junk heap he’d hit was probably on its last legs, anyway. Chances were, taking the little dent out of his bumper would cost as much or more than fixing the crumpled fender and grille of the car he’d hit!

Moving the BMW into the nearest available slot, Tim headed for his office. The sooner he got this over with, the sooner he could get his packed schedule back on track.



Dawn was seated at her computer, transferring the requested personnel files to paper, when Tim rushed through the door and startled her. “Did you forget something?”

“Yeah,” he grumbled, “My common sense. You won’t believe what I just did.”

She swiveled her chair to face him, noticing that he was carrying his jacket and looked a lot less GQ than usual. “Excuse me?”

“Out there.” He nodded in the direction of the parking lot. “I was talking to my mother and I fumbled the phone. By the time I caught it, I’d run into another car.” He tossed a scrap of paper onto Dawn’s desk. “There’s the license number. It wasn’t much of a car to start with but it’s less of one now. See if you can find out who it belongs to and offer to fix it, will you?”

“Of course.” She picked up the paper. Her eyes widened. Her hand began to tremble. “How—how badly is the car damaged?”

“I don’t know.” He was pacing. “Those things always look worse than they really are. That particular car wasn’t in very good shape before I hit it. The owner will probably try to stick me with an exorbitant repair bill but it can’t be helped. The fault was all mine.”

“Oh, dear.” When she looked up at her boss she knew he had no idea whose car he was talking about. Unshed tears misted her vision. She needed that car. Desperately. Not only was it her sole means of transportation, others were depending on her, too.

Tim paused, approached the opposite side of her desk and leaned over it, frowning. “Are you all right?”

“No,” she said honestly, “I’m not.” Without explanation she grabbed her keys and headed for the door.

“Hey! Where are you going?”

Not taking into consideration that her boss might decide to trail after her, Dawn reached the elevator at a run and smacked the button for the ground floor with the heel of her hand. The heavy brass door was closing as Tim approached and she was too distracted to hold it for him.

She was nearly to the parking lot when her breathless boss finally caught up to her.

He reached for her arm. “Wait a second. What are you doing?”

She wrenched free. “Looking at my car.”

“Your car?” He had to hustle to keep up with her.

“Yes, my car.” Dawn’s mouth dropped open as she got her first look at the mangled vehicle. It was worse than she’d imagined. Not only was her grille smashed in, there was greenish fluid in a widening puddle beneath the front end. With a punctured radiator, that car wasn’t going anywhere. Not even in an emergency.

“You killed it!” Without taking time to censor her words she spun to confront Tim. “You killed my car!”

“Don’t get hysterical,” he said calmly. “I told you I’d fix it and I will. Just have it seen to and send me the bill.”

“It’s not that simple. You have other cars. I don’t. I need this one.”

“Okay, rent one somewhere. That’s no problem. I’ll pay for it, too.”

“Rent another car? I hadn’t thought of that.”

“You would have, once you settled down. You’re just upset right now.”

“You can say that again!”

“Look, I told you I was sorry and I meant it. Why don’t you call the garage that takes care of our delivery vans and have them tow it to their place for you? Even if they can’t fix it they’ll undoubtedly know someone who can.”

Though she was still trembling, Dawn had to admit he was making sense. “Okay. I’ll do it right away. Maybe it isn’t as bad as it looks.”

“That’s right. And even if it is, they can probably give you something you can drive till it’s fixed. If not, go ahead and rent yourself some nice wheels, like I said. On me.”

“Thanks.” She managed a wan smile. “I guess that will solve my problems.”

“Of course it will.” His jacket hung over his shoulder on his thumb. He swung it around and put it back on, straightening his tie. “Well, then, if you’re satisfied, I’ll be on my way.”

“How about your Beamer?” Dawn asked belatedly. “Was it badly damaged?”

Tim shook his head and glanced at the slot he’d pulled into after the accident. “Just a scratch and a little dent in the bumper. Nothing serious.” One corner of his mouth turned up in a cynical smile. “The only real casualty was your car.” His smile spread to include both sides. “Hey. While you’re at it, why don’t you have the whole thing repainted? Looks like it’s pretty rusty in places.”

Her left eyebrow arched as she shaded her eyes with one hand and stared up at him, her other hand fisted on her hip. “And charge it to you?”

“Well…sure. Why not? Have to keep the help happy, don’t I?”

Dawn immediately rued her rash suggestion. “You don’t have to do that, you know. I’m not about to quit over a little dented metal.”

Tim’s smile widened, his eyes twinkling in the bright autumn sun. Dawn didn’t think she’d ever seen him smile that broadly, especially not since his father’s illness. There was an appealing charm to his expression that gave her heart a little jolt.

You’re just overreacting because you’re pumped full of adrenaline, she told herself. And Mr. Hamilton is just being this friendly because he’s at fault. There’s nothing more to his smile than that, so simmer down, girl.

Dawn backed away, giving him plenty of extra room in which to return to his car. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll go back up to the office and call the garage.”

Resuming his usual businesslike demeanor, Tim nodded and approached the Beamer. “Good,” he said over his shoulder. “And don’t worry. Everything will be fine.”

Arms folded, she watched him back out and drive away. When you had as much money as Tim Hamilton and his family did, you could fix just about anything, couldn’t you? Anything temporal, that is.

Musing, she pressed her lips into a thin line and jiggled her key ring in one hand as she started for her office. Even the Hamilton wealth might not be enough to save Wallace’s life, though she hoped it would. Medical science could be wonderful but it sure was expensive. She was still helping her parents pay the enormous medical bills left after her brother’s motorcycle accident. Sadly, in Phillipe’s case, the treatment had not been enough to give him back the power to walk again. Some things couldn’t be bought, no matter how rich a person was.

Dawn sighed, deep in thought, entered the elevator and pushed the button for the third floor. If she hadn’t had her faith to sustain her she didn’t know how she’d have coped after her only sibling was so badly injured. The lives of everyone in her family had been changed that day. Putting her college education on hold and getting a job at Hamilton Media to help out with the enormous bills was the least she could do. She wasn’t sorry about that. The only thing that still bothered her was why her prayers for Phil’s total healing hadn’t been answered.

If she lived a hundred more years she knew she’d never understand that.




Chapter Two


By the time Timothy Hamilton had found his missing editor, chewed him out for leaving the office and returned around eleven, he expected Dawn to have settled the problems of her transportation.

“So, I see your car is gone. Did that all work out like I said?”

“No.”

He could tell by her grim expression that plenty was still bothering her so he paused at her desk instead of proceeding to his office. “No?”

“No. They towed the car all right. They just don’t have anything they can loan me.”

“So, rent a car.”

“I tried.”

Tim was getting perturbed. “And?”

“There are a couple of big conventions in the Nashville area right now and every car for miles around has either been rented or is reserved. Nobody could help me on such short notice.”

“That’s ridiculous. Somebody has a car available.”

“That’s what I thought till I tried to find one.”

“You called everybody in the book?”

“Everybody. Even the guys that rent clunkers.”

“I didn’t expect you to stoop that low.” The minute the words were out of his mouth he regretted them.

“Oh? Why not? It might be a step up from what I usually drive.”

“I didn’t mean that the way it sounded,” Tim said.

She pulled a face. “I know. I’ve just had a bad morning. Guess I’m a little cranky.”

“How long will the repairs take? Did the garage say?”

“No. They’ll get back to me with that, hopefully today, but it won’t be in time.”

“In time for what?” His brow furrowed. “If you need a ride home I’m sure we can arrange something.”

“It’s more than that,” Dawn said. “I volunteer for meals-on-wheels and it’s my turn to deliver.”

“Tonight?”

“Yes. Two nights this week.”

“Uh-oh.”

“My sentiments, exactly.”

Tim made a snap decision. “Okay. I’ll lend you one of my cars till you get yours back. I’d rather it be the BMW than the Ferrari, if you don’t mind.”

He was pleased to see a little smile starting. The woman was actually pretty, in a well-scrubbed sort of way. Funny he hadn’t noticed that before. He’d always seen her as an efficient adjunct to his office but hadn’t really paid much attention to her as an individual until today. That was usually the way he liked to keep his business relationships, but in this instance he could see there was need for a little more personal connection.

“You’d do that? Lend me a car, I mean?”

“Under the circumstances, yes,” he said.

Dawn shook her head. “I appreciate your offer but I can’t accept.”

“Why not?”

“Well, besides the fact that I’d be scared to death I might scratch your expensive car, I can’t very well show up driving anything like that.”

“Why not?”

Dawn huffed. “Because I’d be embarrassed, for starters. And I’d be worried sick to use it for deliveries. Suppose I spilled gravy or something in it?”

“Embarrassed? Why would you be embarrassed to drive a perfectly good BMW?”

“Because a car like that probably costs more than most of my clients earn in a whole year. Maybe more. I try to make them feel comfortable accepting help, not show them how the other half lives.”

“And I’m the other half?”

“Something like that.”

“I see.”

He mulled over her statement and realized she had a valid point. “Okay.”

“Okay what?”

“I’ll drive you.”

“That wasn’t what I meant.”

“I know. But I am the one who smashed your car so I figure I owe you.”

“You don’t have to do this.”

“Consider me a fellow volunteer, just helping out in a pinch.” Tim couldn’t believe she was still hesitating.

“Tell you what,” Dawn finally said. “I’ll make a few calls, see if maybe Pastor Abernathy or Amy are free to deliver tonight.”

“Amy? You mean my sister? Why her?”

“Because she’s been doing some of the evening meal distribution, too. I thought you knew?”

“I suppose she may have mentioned it.” Tim set his jaw. “Look. I happen to know she has a late meeting scheduled. Forget about arranging for a substitute. I’ll drive you. Period. In the meantime, do you want me to throw a little mud on the BMW so it won’t look too nice?”

Dawn could tell she was out of options so she capitulated. “I don’t think that will be necessary. I’ll explain when I hand over the meals.”

“I’m almost afraid to ask what you plan to say.”

“You can hear it for yourself,” she told him with a smile. “I’ll want you to come inside with me and meet some of my favorites. They’re delightful people. I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised.”

“No more surprised than I am right now,” Tim said. “Why have you never talked about doing volunteer work?”

“I guess it never came up,” she answered. “You and I don’t have many in-depth conversations.”

“Well, maybe we should have,” he said. “I’m impressed.”

“I didn’t tell you about it to make points.”

“Still, you did,” he said with a smile. “I should be in the office all afternoon, after my lunch with my mother, so let me know when you’re ready to go.”



The rest of Dawn’s day flew past in a blur and 5:00 p.m. arrived before she knew it. Normally, she looked forward to taking the meals to her regulars. This evening, however, she was decidedly uneasy. Not only was she faced with having Tim Hamilton acting as her chauffeur, she’d realized belatedly that he was going to have to drive her home, too. Hamilton Media was located in Davis Landing, in the high-rent district along the Cumberland River, while she lived in Hickory Mills, a place often referred to as the “wrong side of the tracks.” She didn’t relish having her hypercritical boss see her modest apartment, even from the outside.

She considered phoning for a taxi, then changed her mind for fear of offending him. The door to Tim’s office stood ajar and she could hear him talking on the phone, so she waited till he’d ended his conversation before rapping on the door and easing it open a bit farther.

“Mr. Hamilton?”

“Yes?”

He had removed his jacket, loosened his pale blue silk tie and rolled up his shirtsleeves, yet his wavy dark hair was perfectly combed and he still looked like a glossy ad for Armani suits or expensive Italian loafers.

Dawn hesitated, then plunged ahead. “All that correspondence you wanted is stacked on my desk, waiting for your signature.”

“Good. Thanks.”

“I—uh—I thought I’d go home now.”

“Is it that late already?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Then we’d better get going.” He stood. “Where do you live?”

“Hickory Mills. On Third Street.”

“Then let’s go. Can’t keep hungry folks waiting for their dinner.”

“I still feel bad about this. I wouldn’t agree to it except—”

“Except I murdered your car. Have you heard anything about its repair or am I going to have to pay for its funeral, instead?”

“Repair. Definitely repair,” Dawn said, smiling. “The garage called. They promised a price break and I told them to go ahead. I hope that was okay.”

“Fine. Very efficient, as usual.” He slung his jacket over one shoulder, then joined her at the door. “I was going to do a bit more work before I called it a day but I guess I can come in early tomorrow. Let’s go.”

Having to take two steps for each of his long strides, she was nearly running by the time they got to the elevator. He reached out and held the door for her to pass.

“Thanks,” she said. “I’m glad you’re not in a hurry. I’d probably have to wear track shoes to keep up with you if you were.”

“You were moving pretty fast this morning,” Tim countered. “I had to run down the stairs to catch you.”

“Good thing you have such long legs then, huh?” Dawn saw him eye her much shorter stature and discerned a touch of wry humor in his expression. “My legs are not too short,” she insisted. “They reach all the way to the ground, don’t they?”

Tim chuckled. “That, they do.”

Suddenly, Dawn wished she’d kept her mouth shut instead of calling attention to herself. She wasn’t ashamed of her lithe figure or the feminine clothing she favored, she just hadn’t meant for her otherwise reserved boss to take special notice. There had been times, ever since she’d started working for him, that she’d secretly wished he’d at least acknowledge her as a living, breathing human being. Now that he had, however, she wasn’t so sure she liked it, especially since they were cooped up in a cramped elevator. Alone.

Don’t be silly, her sensible side argued. There’s nothing wrong with taking an innocent elevator ride with a man, no matter how handsome and dashing he happens to be. And there was certainly nothing wrong with Tim Hamilton’s manners. He was every bit the perfect Southern gentleman he’d always been.

Particularly in regard to other women, she added contritely. Until today, his suave graciousness had seemed reserved for women he saw socially. Now that Dawn was the recipient of the Hamilton charm, she wasn’t sure how she ought to react. One thing was certain, however. This was going to be a very long evening.

If she could have been positive the whole unfolding sequence of events was God’s idea, maybe meant to show Tim how to appreciate the simple things in life more, she’d have been happier with the situation. Then again, who was she to question her Heavenly Father?

The same silly person I’ve always been, she answered honestly. Some things were just beyond human comprehension and the only times she got herself into real trouble were when she tried to second-guess the Lord and help Him out.

That ridiculous thought made her smile. As if God wasn’t capable of doing anything He wanted whether she cooperated or not!



When they reached the ground floor, Herman Gordon hailed them. “Night, Mr. Tim, Miss Dawn.” He bent to retrieve a picnic basket from beneath the counter that he and his wife, Louise, considered their private bailiwick. “Here’s the stuff you ordered from Betty’s, sir. It was just delivered a few minutes ago. Miss Justine brought it over.”

Tim took the basket from him. “Thanks, Herman. Have a good evening.”

The old man waved a clipboard. “Gotta sign out. Them’s the rules.”

“Do it for us,” Tim called back, hurrying Dawn toward the door. “You know who we are.”

Dawn snickered quietly. “He’s a stickler, isn’t he?”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Tim said. “I just figured we’d better make tracks or he’d start telling us one of his long stories and you’d never get your meals delivered.” He led the way to his car. “Speaking of which, I thought we might be hungry, too, so I ordered a little dinner to go.”

“That’s what’s in the basket?”

“Uh-huh.” He opened the passenger door and held it for her. “I knew it wouldn’t be right to eat anything meant for delivery to your customers, so I planned ahead and ordered this when I had lunch at Betty’s today. I hope you don’t mind.”

“No. Not at all.” He handed her the basket, closed her door and laid his suit coat neatly across the backseat before finally getting behind the wheel.

Unsure of what he wanted her to do with the food, Dawn merely sat there on the smooth leather seat and held the basket on her lap.

“Well, aren’t you hungry?” Tim asked.

“Sure, but…you don’t intend for us to eat in the car, do you?”

“Why not?”

“Because. What if we spill something?”

“Are you a messy eater?” There was evident humor in his tone.

“Not usually.” She had to smile. “However, when I’m trying to keep from making a mess, it’s much harder not to. Murphy’s law, I guess.”

“Then it’s a good thing I didn’t order spaghetti,” Tim said, laughing softly. “There are supposed to be three kinds of sandwiches in there, a couple of pickles and some cold bottles of sparkling water with lemon. Anything else was Betty’s idea.”

“Three kinds of sandwiches?” Dawn lifted the lid and peeked into the basket. “You must be really hungry.”

“I wasn’t sure what you liked and I wanted to cover all the bases, that’s all. We can eat what we want and toss the rest in the garbage.”

“Not on your life! Where I come from we don’t waste food.”

Tim started the car and pulled out onto Main Street. “Where do you come from? I didn’t notice that part of your personnel file when I reviewed it for your promotion.”

It struck Dawn as odd that anyone would choose to read a file for background information rather than talk to the person involved. But that was typical Tim Hamilton, wasn’t it? Typical, but sad.

“My family’s from Louisiana, down by New Orleans.” She decided to elaborate rather than have him think she was ashamed of her roots, which she wasn’t. “Dad worked on the docks. Mom used to clean houses to help out.”

“Are you from a big family like mine?”

“No. There are just two of us. My brother, Phillipe, and me.”

“I see. So, what brought you to Tennessee?”

“College. I got a wonderful scholarship to Central Tennessee University.”

“Really? That’s where my sister Melissa used to go to school.”

Dawn nodded. “I never could have afforded CTU if it hadn’t been for the scholarship. I was going to become an English teacher.”

“But you didn’t finish? Why not?”

“Phil, mostly. He had a terrible accident that left him paralyzed. Mom stays home now to take care of him and I do all I can to help them out. The medical bills were unbelievable. Still are. I wouldn’t be sitting here talking to you if it hadn’t been for all that. It’s why I needed a full-time job.”

“You’re going to go back to school, aren’t you?” He sounded genuinely concerned.

“Maybe. Probably. I haven’t decided.”

“College is vital,” Tim said. “We were all upset when Melissa dropped out and took off.”

“She’s the baby of the family, isn’t she?”

“Yes. In more ways than her age.” He changed the subject with a nod toward the basket. “Aren’t you going to eat something?”

“I guess I should, since you went to all this trouble. What would you like?”

“Considering the morning I had, I think I’d better keep both hands on the wheel, don’t you? Go ahead without me. I can grab a bite while you’re getting your meals ready or whatever it is you need to do.”

“Okay.” Dawn lifted the hinged lid of the basket, took out the sandwich on top and bit into it. “Umm. Tuna. Delicious.”

She chewed and swallowed, then said, “First, I have a few things I need to do at my apartment. You can eat while I’m changing into something more comfortable.” Her cheeks burned the moment she realized the possible salacious interpretation of her innocent remark. “I meant, you can eat while you wait for me in the car.”

“Of course.”

A sidelong glance at her companion revealed a smile he was trying to subdue. Tim was laughing at her. Oh, not out loud because he was too polite, but he was laughing, all the same. She’d have to choose her words a lot more carefully in the future. Some English major she’d turned out to be! A few minutes alone with Timothy Hamilton and her normally quick wit had fled like a dry leaf in a Tennessee tornado. Although he’d earned the behind-the-scenes nickname, Typhoon Tim, because of his habit of approaching work with the speed of a whirlwind, this was one more reason the name fit. He’d certainly blown her away with his cordiality and innate charisma.

Dawn sighed in self-disgust and concentrated on finishing the first half of her sandwich. As she’d decided earlier, this was going to be a very, very long evening.



They’d crossed the Cumberland via Mill Road and were approaching the downtown area of Hickory Mills when Tim broke into her contemplation with a question. “Are we getting close?”

“Yes. My apartment is on Third, like I said, near the corner of Market.” She screwed the cap back on her bottle of water, then pointed. “You can turn here.”

Blotting her mouth with a paper napkin she placed the picnic basket on the seat between them. “This is it. Park anywhere along the street. I won’t be long.”

“Take your time,” Tim said pleasantly. “I’ll be right here, relaxing and enjoying my supper.”

He swung in parallel to the cracked curb, shut off the engine and got out to open the car door for her. By the time he’d circled the car, however, Dawn had already let herself out.

He stopped short, slipped his hands into his pockets and struck a nonchalant pose while he watched her disappear into the three-story brick building.

The woman was independent, that was for sure. Spunky. And she had the uncanny ability to make him laugh, something he did far too infrequently, especially lately.

She also had a depth of character he’d missed seeing until now. Although he disagreed with her decision to quit school, he understood why a person would do so in order to help his or her family.

If he and Dawn Leroux had nothing else in common they had that—a deep need to support and maintain the bonds of kinship. He certainly couldn’t fault her for that.



Dawn climbed the three flights of stairs and unlocked the door to her apartment. “Beau? I’m home. Where are you?”

The thump of the enormous brindle dog’s tail against the hardwood flooring echoed in the otherwise silent room. Dawn smiled as he rose, stretched and lumbered over to greet her. She was able to pat his broad head without reaching or bending. Phil had been fond of saying that a mastiff was a lazy man’s dog and Dawn had to agree. Not only was Beauregard so laid-back he rarely moved faster than a walk, he also remained quiet and calm in the face of almost anything, making him ideal for an apartment.

She snickered to herself as she led the dog down the back stairs and released him into the small yard that backed up to an overgrown drainage ditch. Why should Beau get excited? There wasn’t much he couldn’t handle if he had to. His mere size generally precluded the necessity to act. No human or animal in its right mind would challenge a dog with a muscled body the size of a pony, jaws as strong as an alligator’s and a tongue as broad as her palm.

Finished sniffing the grass and weeds, Beau returned to her as if they’d been together all his life. Dawn was thankful she’d been able to adopt him as a favor to her brother after Phil’s crippling accident. Their agreement had been for her to temporarily care for the big dog but, although it remained unsaid, Dawn and Phil both knew Beau would never go back to Louisiana.

She didn’t bother to leash him as they climbed the stairs together. Beau loved three things. Human companionship, food and naps, pretty much in that order. Since she was his best buddy and they were headed in the direction of his food dish, there was no chance Beau would stray.

As a matter of fact, he beat her to the door, pushed past her legs, headed straight for his dish and sat patiently waiting for his dinner.

Kibble rattled into the bowl as she poured from the bag of dog food before she gave him fresh drinking water.

He was crunching happily as she straightened and patted him on his broad, mottled-brown back. “Okay, baby, enjoy. I’ll be back as soon as I can. I promise. You be good while I’m gone, okay?”

His tail wagged faster in reply, though his nose remained buried in the food.

She laughed. “Good. Stay right there so you don’t accidentally get me dirty. I’m going to go change. I have not been having a very good day.”

The foolishness of conversing with a dog struck Dawn funny. Old Beau might not be a very good conversationalist but he sure was easy to talk to, wasn’t he?

It was just as well Beau wasn’t able to give sage advice, she reasoned as she proceeded to don jeans and a blue short-sleeved sweater and run a brush through her hair. If she could think of any way to get out of spending the evening driving around with her persnickety boss, she’d send him packing in a heartbeat.




Chapter Three


Northside Community Church was well known not only because of its place in the history of Hickory Mills and Davis Landing, but also because it had a reputation for running exemplary outreach programs. The community kitchen and its preparation of meals-on-wheels was one such endeavor. The youth program was another.

Behind the white-painted brick facade and wide, columned portico of the original, more traditional church sat a more modern complex of two-story buildings in which that kind of humanitarian work was carried on daily.

Tim had known about the programs before he’d become Dawn’s temporary chauffeur but seeing one of them in operation gave him further appreciation of all the effort that went into managing such important projects.

It also showed him how well-respected his administrative assistant was in the community. Although she was a Tennessee transplant, she’d apparently been totally accepted by everyone at Northside, natives included.

Watching her greet the other kitchen volunteers so fondly gave him pause. Clearly, there were places where she was more fully accepted than he was, even though he and his family were an integral part of the entire area’s history and current prosperity.

Dawn stood aside, tugged the hem of her short-sleeved sweater over her jeans to smooth it and motioned him to come on into the kitchen. “Ladies, you know Mr. Hamilton? I had car trouble tonight and he was kind enough to offer to drive me on my rounds. Wasn’t that nice of him?”

Amid a tittering chorus of welcome, Tim strode forward as if arriving at a board meeting and offered his most amiable smile. “A pleasure to meet you all,” he said. “Please, call me Tim.”

Shaking hands with those who weren’t too deep in kitchen cleanup to offer, he saw Dawn standing back, hesitating. His smile widened. “Yes, you, too, Ms. Leroux. I’m sure it won’t destroy office protocol if we’re more informal tonight. It’ll help your clients relax, especially since they probably haven’t met me before, don’t you think?”

“I suppose so.” She swallowed hard. “Um, Tim.”

Tim couldn’t help being amused by her obvious nervousness. The woman was practically quaking. What was the matter with her? Did she think he was going to say or do something inappropriate? He’d been to Northside often enough in the past to be familiar with Pastor Abernathy and a few of the regular parishoners, especially the ones he played golf with, so what in the world could be bothering Dawn? She’d seemed just fine when she’d arrived and begun greeting the other workers like long-lost sisters. Now, however, she seemed jittery, as if she couldn’t wait to get out of there.

She found her voice moments later and pointed. “Those insulated boxes on the end of the counter are ours. The dinners go inside. If you’ll help me carry them to the car we can be on our way.”

“Sure.” He bestowed amiable smiles all around, said, “If you ladies will excuse us,” and joined Dawn. In the background he imagined he heard audible sighs. Those poor women must be exhausted. He wondered if they worked there the whole day.

Following Dawn to the car with the stack of padded boxes he asked about it. “How long do those volunteers work? Is it an all-day shift?”

“We break it down into two, usually,” Dawn said. “The earlier shift is much larger. They do the majority of the cooking every Monday, Wednesday and Friday morning. A different bunch puts together the evening meals and cleans the kitchen.”

She paused at the rear of his car while he opened the trunk. “Most meals are delivered earlier, between noon and two or three o’clock. That’s why there aren’t other drivers picking up now. And that’s why it was so hard to find someone to take my place. We only have a few regulars who like their food at suppertime and I’m able to handle all the ones in town. I work Monday and Wednesday nights. Amy drives the country route on Fridays.”

“I see.” He carefully arranged the boxes in the trunk before closing it and starting for the passenger door. Dawn was already there, had it open and was climbing in. Acting like the gentleman his mother had raised wasn’t easy where Dawn Leroux was concerned, was it? It didn’t matter to Tim whether or not their outing was for pleasure. He didn’t have to be dating the lady to want to treat her with propriety.

“I would have gotten that door for you,” Tim said, sliding behind the wheel.

“It’s not necessary. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

He gave her a lopsided smile. “I don’t doubt that for a second. What I meant was, it’s a simple courtesy. One I’m used to offering.”

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I didn’t think of it quite that way.”

Tim thought he detected an odd tinge of emotion in her tone as she turned to stare out the side window. He wondered if he’d embarrassed her. He certainly hadn’t meant to. He never had understood women, even though he’d grown up in a household with a mother and three sisters. Amy and Heather had never seemed to mind being treated with respect. Melissa? Well, that was another story. Melissa was a special case. She seemed to struggle with personal issues that didn’t faze the others.

“Who’s our first customer?” Tim asked, taking care to keep his tone light and friendly.

“Stuart Meyers,” Dawn said. “He lives alone in one of those shotgun houses all in a row down by the river. It’s not far. Go back the way we came and I’ll tell you when to turn.”

“Right. I haven’t heard anybody mention shotgun houses in years. Aren’t those the ones that are supposedly so small you can fire a shotgun in the front door and the shot will travel out the back door before the pattern spreads enough to hit anything?”

“I see you know something about history. Stuart will love you. How smart are you about The War?”

“Smart enough to know exactly what you mean and to not call it the Civil War unless I’m talking to a Yankee,” Tim said with a grin. “I was in school before I’d heard the conflict called anything but The War Between the States.”

“It was the same in Louisiana,” Dawn said. “Or The War for Southern Independence. That was always my favorite name for it.”

“That figures, since you’re so independent yourself. I know Tennessee provided troops to both the North and the South. Which does your Mr. Meyers favor?”

“He’s not fussy. He loves to argue both sides.” Dawn pointed. “Take that narrow road over there. Stuart’s is the second house on the right. The one that needs painting.”

Tim refrained from saying that he thought all the houses in sight were in serious need of maintenance, most of them too far gone to be saved by a simple coat of paint. He parked as instructed, then released the trunk latch from the driver’s seat before getting out.

He was standing at the rear of the car, trying to decide which meal package was which—or if there was any difference—when he noticed that Dawn had not yet joined him. Leaning to one side he peered around the raised trunk lid and saw her sitting primly right where he’d left her.

Was she waiting for him to open her door? Surely not. Not after all her insistence that she could do things herself. Maybe the latch was stuck or something. He was beside the passenger door in three strides, jerked it open without undue effort and stepped back.

Her face glowed and her blue eyes sparkled as she tilted her head to gaze up at him.

Tim’s jaw dropped when she batted her long, beautiful lashes, and said in an exaggerated Southern accent, “Why thank you, kind sir. Bless your heart. I’m truly obliged for your gentlemanly behavior.”



Dawn didn’t know what had come over her all of a sudden. She was brave and had a good sense of humor but she wasn’t normally foolhardy. Teasing Tim Hamilton like that, when he was trying so hard to be nice, seemed too over-the-top even for a laid-back Louisianan with Cajun roots.

The fact that he’d recovered from the initial shock and looked as if he was struggling to keep from laughing helped salve her conscience. She swung her jeans-clad legs out of the car and quickly stood to smooth the hem of her sweater over her hips. “Sorry about that. I couldn’t resist.”

Tim chuckled and shook his head. “I guess I deserved it for insisting we observe antiquated customs.”

“No, you didn’t. There’s nothing wrong with a few old traditions. As a matter of fact, most of the folks we’ll be seeing tonight prefer classic Southern manners. And if that’s what suits them, it suits me, too.”

“So, you’re something of a chameleon, is that it?”

Separating the Styrofoam box containing Stuart’s meal from the others, she turned and headed toward his front porch. “I see myself as adaptable, not artificial. If I notice that something I say or do makes someone else uncomfortable, I try to avoid making the same mistake again.”

“Point taken,” Tim said, falling in step beside her. “From now on, I promise I won’t insist on treating you like a fragile Southern belle.”

“And I promise I won’t chew you out if you forget and try to open a door for me,” Dawn countered.

“That’s big of you.”

If Tim hadn’t been grinning so widely that the corners of his eyes crinkled, she might have worried more that he was actually offended. It was hard to tell for sure. He apparently had a sense of humor that let him enjoy a good joke without getting too carried away.

Unlike my dad, she added, remembering fondly how her father’s deep laugh had filled the house till the windows almost shook with it. She was used to boisterous men like him: men who loved life, wore their feelings on their sleeves and were equally at home yelling encouragement from the stands at a softball game or shouting a reverent “Hallelujah” from a church pew.

No wonder her reactions to Tim Hamilton were rather odd, she mused. He was so unlike anyone she’d ever been close to she was half awed, half flabbergasted. It was a wonder their working relationship was so effective, although it seemed to satisfy Tim.

Then again, Dawn reminded herself, at the office she kept her focus on pleasing him and doing everything precisely his way. What was not to like?

She climbed Stuart Meyers’s wooden steps, crossed the porch in two strides and knocked. From inside the tiny house she heard, “Hold your horses. I’m comin’, I’m comin’,” accompanied by the steady thump of the rubber tip of the old man’s cane.

Smile in place, Dawn waited patiently. When the door swung open she greeted the white-haired octogenarian and explained why she’d brought a companion. “Evening, Mr. Meyers. Sorry I’m a few minutes late. This is Mr. Hamilton. My car is in the shop and he was kind enough to drive me.”

“Well, come on in, come on in,” Stuart said brightly. “It’s not often I have company like this. “Y’all can stay, can’t you?” He paused to wink up at Tim. “The mister here and I can have a little sip of something smooth from Kentucky, if you know what I mean.”

“Sorry, but no thanks,” Tim said. “I’m driving, remember?”

“Pity. I been savin’ that bottle for a special occasion.” He hobbled into the main portion of the house that served as both living room and kitchenette.

Dawn followed and placed Stuart’s dinner on a TV tray for him. She eyed the large oval table that he used for everything but eating. It was arrayed with toy soldiers, plastic artillery, rail fences made of twigs, and strategically placed piles of sand and dirt. “I see nobody’s won yet,” she said. “How’s the war going?”

Stuart snorted as he shuffled past the overstuffed chair where he usually took his meals and proceeded to the table to peer at his handiwork over the upper rim of his glasses. “Not good,” he said. “General John Bell Hood’s Army of the Tennessee just let Schofield’s troops sneak through Spring Hill during the night and Hood’s about to get his you-know-what kicked at Franklin. Lost six Confederate generals there, you know.”

Tim nodded. “Go on.”

“Hood would be a fool to press on to Nashville and attack General Thomas after that, but that’s exactly what he’s gonna do. Guess he thought he could lead Sherman on a wild-goose chase and keep him out of Savannah. Might of worked, too, if he’d been able to move fast enough and recruit more men on the march.”

Tim circled the table, assessing the battlements and curving strips of blue paper that evidently represented the wanderings of a river. “Is this the Cumberland where it runs through Nashville? Looks like the fortifications on Overton’s Hill.” It was a wild guess but Tim was rewarded with a gleeful shout from the old man.

“It is! And over here’s Shy’s Hill.” A gnarled finger pointed. “The second Union attack begins here, on Hood’s right flank. It fails till Major General Smith’s men take Shy’s Hill and show ’em how it’s done.”

“Where’s Nathan Bedford Forrest?”

“South. In Spring Hill,” Stuart said. “I’m a tad short of cavalry horses or you could tell by lookin’.”

“I’m sure I could,” Tim said. “You’ve done a marvelous job setting this up.”

“Thanks, son. It’s a pleasure to talk to somebody who knows his history like you do. Most kids these days couldn’t care less.”

Tim’s gaze darted to Dawn’s face in time to see her hide a snicker behind her hand. He didn’t really mind hearing the elderly gentleman refer to him as a kid at thirty-three. Given their age differences, he supposed Stuart thought of anyone under sixty as still wet behind the ears.

“You should eat now, Mr. Meyers,” Dawn said. “Your supper’s getting cold.”

“Eat? How can I eat when Nashville’s under siege?” He circled the table and grabbed Tim’s forearm. “Come on. You can be Nathan Bedford Forrest, since you mentioned him. You bring your troops north from Franklin and lead a surprise attack on Thomas’s rear!”

Tim laughed. “Sorry. I’m afraid I have another assignment tonight, sir.”

The old man’s shoulders sagged. “Oh, right. You’re on mess duty. I forgot.”

“Maybe another time,” Tim told him gently. “I’d like to hear more. The history of this area has always fascinated me. My great-great-grandfather, Jeremiah Hamilton, settled here in the nineteen twenties.”

Stuart’s eyes squinted behind his glasses. “Hamilton, you say? Thought I recognized that name when you came in. Well, well, well. I knew old Jeremiah’s boy, Fred. We joined the Marines when we was barely old enough to shave. Fine man, rest his soul. You come from good stock, boy.”

Tim smiled. “Thank you, sir.” He was edging toward the door where Dawn waited. “Looks like I’d better go before everybody else’s food gets cold.”

He hesitated when Stuart hobbled closer, extended his right hand and said, “I’m proud you came. It’s been a pleasure, son.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” Tim replied sincerely, shaking hands.

“By Wednesday night I can have all the fortifications slicked up and we can have a real set-to.”

Tim glanced at Dawn. Her jaw looked a little slack and her blue eyes were wider than he’d ever seen them before. He made a snap decision. “If it happens that I’m not needed to deliver meals then, I’ll still drop by again some time. I promise.”

Stuart’s shoulders slumped. He sounded down in the dumps when he said, “You do that, son. You do that.”

Dawn walked as far as the car before she whirled and confronted Tim. “You shouldn’t have promised him.”

“Why not?”

“Because he’ll be terribly disappointed when you don’t show up.”

“Who says I won’t show up?”

“I do.” Her hands fisted on her hips. “I know your work schedule, remember? You hardly have time to breathe, let alone visit lonely old men and spend hours rehashing the Civil War.”

“Then I’ll make time,” Tim said firmly. “I don’t know where you got such a low opinion of me but it’s wrong. I never make a promise I don’t intend to keep. I said I’d see Stuart Meyers again and I will.”

Dawn just stared. “You will? You really will?”

“Yes. I will.” He circled the car and opened the driver’s door. “Now, are you coming? Or are you going to stand there arguing and let the rest of this food get colder than it already is?”



Several other stops were uneventful and the deliveries went quickly. Ada Smith was next to the last on the evening circuit.

As Tim parked in front of her run-down antebellum home, Dawn filled him in. “Miss Ada is a dear. She absolutely dotes on her grandchildren, so be sure to mention how attractive they are when she shows you their photos.”

“How do you know she will?”

Dawn laughed lightly. “Oh, she will. She always does. And if any of them have been to see her recently, we’ll be treated to a minute-by-minute replay of their visit.”

“Okay.” Tim opened the trunk, took out another dinner and passed it to Dawn. He swept his arm in an arc and gave a slight bow. “After you, ma’am.”

She was shaking her head and chuckling. That pleased him. He was still trying to get over the shock of finding out she didn’t see him as the kind of man who kept his word. He was determined to show her his true character, though he wasn’t sure how. Granted, he could be rather ruthless in business if the situation called for it, but in his private life he wasn’t so bad, was he? Introspection didn’t show any major flaws that he was aware of. Therefore, he planned to charm the socks off the little old lady he was about to meet and prove to Dawn what a great guy he really was.

Why? The surprising question gave him pause. Why, indeed? He was Dawn’s boss, not her date. Why should he care about her personal opinion of him as long as she continued to do her job well? Dropping back a few paces he frowned with introspection as he watched her make her way onto the sagging wooden porch.

The front door flew open before Dawn could knock. A pixieish old woman with a wide grin and a head full of tight white curls reached for Dawn’s arm and practically dragged her inside.

“There you are, girl! I was gettin’ worried.”

“Sorry we’re a little late, Miss Ada. We got delayed when Stuart Meyers started talking about The War. You know how that goes.”

Ada chortled. “That, I do. My Sidney was a jewel, Lord bless him, but when he got to talkin’ about huntin’ or fishin’ he was as single-minded as one of his old hound dogs trailin’ a possum.” Blue eyes twinkling, she giggled behind her hand like a youngster. “’Cept, as I recall, Sid didn’t bay at the moon near as much as them dogs did.”

Dawn laughed with her, then turned back to the doorway where Tim waited politely. “I have someone with me tonight, Miss Ada. I’d like you to meet Tim Ham—”

“Land sakes!” the old woman shouted, cutting off the introduction. “Why didn’t you tell me you were bringin’ a friend? Hoo-whee, he’s a big ’un.” She lowered her voice to continue but it was still loud enough to have been heard all the way to the curb. “Mighty good-looking, too. Reminds me of a fella I dated years ago. That boy sure could kiss.”

“Miss Ada!” Dawn’s voice was raised, too.

“Oh, posh. Don’t be such a prude, girl.”

“Mr. Hamilton and I are not romantically involved,” Dawn insisted. “I had car trouble and he was kind enough to drive me on my rounds tonight.”

Ada eyed Tim. “That right?”

He nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

Her pale brows arched. “Well, well. And I suppose you’re gonna tell me you ain’t noticed what a pretty little thing our Dawn is. There’s men’d fight to marry her for that long blond hair, alone.”

Cheeks reddening, Tim looked as though he was trying his best to keep a straight face. The corners of his mouth twitched. His dark eyes shone. “Yes, ma’am.”

Ada was just getting warmed up. She held out her arms toward Dawn as if hawking a priceless treasure. “Look at that girl. She’s pretty as a speckled pup. Smart, too. Went to college. Did you know that?”

“Yes, ma’am, I did.”

Dawn broke in. “I work for Mr. Hamilton, Miss Ada. I’m his administrative assistant.”

“His what?”

“Secretary,” Dawn said flatly. Determined to change the subject she asked, “So, how are all your grandchildren?”

“Oh, they’re wonderful. Sissy’s about to graduate and Bubba’s got his first girlfriend. The little ones are cute as ever.”

Dawn was relieved to see Ada bustle over to an end table and produce a packet of snapshots which she proceeded to display for Tim, one at a time, along with a running commentary.

He glanced at Dawn over the elderly woman’s mop of poodlelike curls. There was a plea for rescue in his gaze.

“We really should be going,” Dawn said. “We have one more stop.”

Ada looked up. “I’m not the last one?”

“Not anymore. Remember? We added that nice young family, Jordan and Allison Martin.”

“Right. The folks with the baby. I forgot. How’s the daddy doin’? Think he’ll be able to go back to work soon?”

“We hope so,” Dawn said. “Since he’s a carpenter, I’m not sure. It’s not like he can sit behind a desk all day the way I do.”

“Pity,” Ada said. She slipped the wad of photos back into the envelope. “Well, at least have some of my homemade cookies before you go. I baked extra for when the grandkids come by.”

Dawn gave Tim a look that was more warning than anything else as she said, “No, no. You should save them for the children.”

“Nonsense. There’s plenty. You two just stay put for a second and I’ll get you a taste. I can always spare a few.” She was leaving the room. “Be right back!”

Tim closed the distance between Dawn and himself before he asked softly, “Why not take a cookie? What would it hurt?”

“Depends,” Dawn said with a lopsided grin. “If she remembered to put the sugar in this time, it won’t hurt a bit. If she got it mixed up with the salt like she did the last time, that’s another story.”

Ada returned before Tim could comment. She held out a plastic bag containing four puffy discs of dough that resembled lumpy oatmeal. “I packed ’em up so you could take ’em along.”

“Thank you, Miss Ada,” Tim said, graciously accepting the gift. “We’ll enjoy them while we drive. I’m pleased to have met you.”

The elderly woman eyed Dawn. “He’s got manners, too, bless his heart.”

“That, he does.” Dawn was already on her way to the door. “Good night, Miss Ada.”

“Night, children,” Ada said. “Y’all be good, y’ hear.” She tittered. “But not too good. Life’s too short to pass up the chances the Good Lord gives us. Take it from me. If I had it all to do over again…”

Dawn had reached the door, pushed it open and flung herself through. Tim was following too slowly to suit her so she grabbed his shirtsleeve and tugged him along, not letting go till they were at the car.

“I take it she’s a widow,” Tim said.

“Yes. Has been for ages. If anyone should be out looking for companionship, it’s Ada Smith.”

Tim chuckled. “Something tells me it would take a very special man to satisfy her. Someone hard of hearing, maybe?”

That made Dawn laugh. “And tolerant. And definitely someone who loves her grandchildren, which is a pretty tall order.” She climbed into the car unaided and was fastening her seat belt when Tim slid into the driver’s seat.

“She was right about one thing.” His hands were on the wheel, his eyes staring straight ahead.

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” Tim said quietly. “You really do have pretty hair.”




Chapter Four


After they’d completed the meals-on-wheels deliveries and dropped the carrying boxes back at the church, Dawn expected Tim to merely let her off at her apartment and be on his way. However, when he parked, he got out.

She looped the strap of her purse over one shoulder and hesitated on the sidewalk. “Thanks for the ride.”

“No problem. I actually enjoyed myself. Some of those people are fascinating.”

“Told you so.” He was still not making any move to get back into his car and she wasn’t sure what to do about it. “Well, good night.”

He quickly circled the BMW and joined her. “I’ll walk you up.”

“That’s not necessary.”

Tim was firm. “I think it is.”

“Well, I don’t. I come home every night by myself and go in without an escort.”

“Tonight, you have one.”

“I don’t need one.”

“Humor me. I’ll feel safer knowing I took you all the way to your door.”

“Are you implying that my neighborhood isn’t safe at night because I don’t live in a gated complex like you do?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“No, but you implied it.”

Tim stared at her, his expression unyielding. “Look. I don’t care where you live or what your neighbors are like. You heard what happened to Felicity Simmons. My brother Chris had to be assigned as her bodyguard.”

“That was a stalker, not a random crime. Felicity told me all about it.”

Tim folded his arms across his chest, struck a nonchalant pose and began to smile. Dawn could tell by the smug look on his face that he wasn’t going to back down.

“You’re going to stand there all night if I don’t let you walk me up, aren’t you?” she asked.

“Sure am. I can hold out as long as you can.”

“Probably longer,” she muttered, pouting. “Okay. You can escort me to my door if it’ll make you happy. But that’s as far as you go. You’re not coming in.”

“Of course not.” Tim fell into step behind her. “You didn’t think I was hitting on you, did you?”

The thought had occurred to Dawn, especially after his compliment about her hair, but she kept her wild imaginings to herself. Of course Tim Hamilton wasn’t hitting on her. It was ridiculous to think he might be interested in her when he had so many high-society glamour queens to choose from. As his administrative assistant, there wasn’t a day went by that she didn’t have to field at least one or two calls from women like that. It didn’t matter that Tim rarely followed up on their invitations. They were still standing in line and waiting to go out with him whenever he was ready. That was all that counted.

The few minutes it took them to climb three flights of stairs to her apartment wasn’t long enough for Dawn to quiet her nerves or settle her mind. She still had butterflies in her stomach when she reached her door, turned to face Tim and held out her hand. “Good night.”

Belatedly, she realized what a mistake that normally inconsequential gesture was. Tim grasped her hand but instead of shaking it the way he would have if she’d been a man, he cradled her fingers gently and looked directly into her eyes. Dawn couldn’t move, could hardly force herself to continue breathing.

“I want you to know how much I value the opportunity I had to make the rounds with you tonight,” he said quietly, sincerely. “You gave me a new appreciation of the hard work so many volunteers do. I honestly had no idea.”

She strained to pull her hand away and he reluctantly let go. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. And thanks for giving all that extra food from Betty’s to the last family. I’m sure the Martins are grateful. They need all the help they can get, especially until Jordan’s able to go back to work again.”

“Glad to do it.” Tim smiled. “You warned me I’d better not throw anything away and it seemed a logical alternative. I’m glad I was there to help you carry that heavy case of baby formula up those stairs for them. Do you usually lug it all that way yourself?”

“Sure. When I need to.”

Tim stepped back and thrust his hands into the pockets of his slacks. “Well, you must be tired, so…”

“Exhausted,” Dawn said. “Thanks for the ride.”

He took another step away. “You’re welcome.”

Turning, she fumbled to get the key into the lock, finally succeeded, and started to duck into her apartment. Just as she did, something very substantial pushed past her legs without a sound.

All she had time to shout was, “Beau, no!” before the mastiff leaped and pinned Tim against the wall of the dimly lit hallway.

Dawn grabbed the dog’s collar and tugged, yelling, “Beau! Down.” He yielded easily.

To Tim she said, “Are you okay?”

“I think so.” He was wiping his face and seemed short of breath.

“I’m so sorry. Beau’s usually very good about staying inside. I didn’t think he’d burst out like that. He must have heard my voice and…” And sensed how nervous I am, she finished silently.

The astonished expression lingering on Tim’s face made her grin in spite of the embarrassing situation. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I think so. Boy, does he have bad breath!” Tim stared at the now-lethargic-looking animal seated at her feet and panting as if it had just chased down and captured a man-eating lion. “What is he?”

“A dog.”

“I’d already figured out that part. What I mean is, what are you doing with an animal the size of an elephant in your little apartment? Does your landlord know?”

“Yes. I’m allowed to have one pet as long as the other neighbors aren’t bothered by any noise. Beau’s so quiet I doubt most of them even know he’s here.”

“Beau?”

“Short for Beauregard. A proper Southern name, don’t you think? Beau was my brother’s dog. After the terrible accident I told you about, Phil didn’t want Mom to have to deal with caring for Beau, too, so he asked me to take him in.”

“And, of course, you did.”

“Sure. He’s a wonderful companion. Very gentle.”

Tim was brushing himself off as if contact with the mastiff had left him muddy. “I’ll have to take your word for it. I haven’t had much experience with dogs and such.”

Dawn was aghast. “You never had a pet when you were a little boy?”

He shook his head. “I think the girls had some goldfish once. I can’t remember for sure.”

“That is so sad.”

Shrugging, Tim continued to brush at his dark slacks. “Not to me, it isn’t. We had plenty of other interests, like school and sports. I never felt I was missing anything by not having a dog shedding all over the furniture and chewing up my shoes.”

“Well, you were,” Dawn said.

She guided Beau toward the apartment door with a light touch on his collar and urged him to enter ahead of her. As she followed, she noted that Tim was still standing in the dim, narrow hallway, staring after her. His expression made her wonder if he was having trouble digesting her candid criticism of his childhood.

Probably. Tim wasn’t very good at recognizing the wisdom of ideas that differed from his own, no matter how sensible they were. The Hamilton way was the only way, according to him, and, sadly, he usually refused to listen to any opinions to the contrary.



Dawn spent a restless night. She had belatedly come to the realization she didn’t have a ride to work the following morning and had spent hours trying to decide what to do about it. No way was she going to ask Tim to come and get her. No, sir. Not after the way his compliment about her hair had shaken her up. And putting the whole incident out of her mind was beyond impossible. So she’d phoned her friend Gabi Valencia, and begged Gabi to give her a ride into Davis Landing on her way to her job at the hospital’s administration office.

Gabi picked her up early, as Dawn had requested. “You should have called me yesterday, when you found out your car was out of commission,” Gabi said. “I’d have helped you with the meals. There’s plenty of room in my van.”

Too weary to deal with the teasing she knew would ensue if she told Gabi everything, Dawn decided to hold back some of the details of her unsettling evening. She wrapped her light jacket more tightly around herself and held it there, her arms crossed. “I would have asked you, but I thought Talia had soccer practice on Monday nights.”

“That’s old news. Both my girls change their minds so often it drives me loca.” She smiled over at Dawn. “So, how did it go with you and the boss man last night?”

Dawn’s head snapped around. “How did you know he was involved?”

“Small town. Big, talkative church,” Gabi said with a smile. “I probably knew who you were with before you made your first meal delivery.”

“Probably. It was quite an evening.”

“Bad?”

“Not exactly.” Dawn was shaking her head slowly, pensively. “Tim—Mr. Hamilton—was a perfect gentleman. And he related well to the oldsters, especially Stuart Meyers.”




Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.


Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/valerie-hansen/the-hamilton-heir/) на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.