A Man's Promise. Brenda Jackson

those pictures had been doctored, he should have. But he hadn’t. Instead, he had accused her of the worst betrayal possible, calling her degrading names. Names she hadn’t deserved.

      And while he’d been indulging in his holier-than-thou attitude, she had been lying in some hospital room fighting for her life after losing their child.

      Oh, God. The thought of her lying there in pain, hurting, brokenhearted, without him there to comfort her, filled him with anger. Intense rage. “Damn you, Samuel Timmons! Damn you!” he muttered under his breath with an alarming force because, at that moment, he knew how it felt to hate someone.

      He thought he’d hated the man at fourteen, when he had ended his and Shiloh’s friendship, but now he knew how real revulsion felt. At thirteen, she had been afraid to go against her tyrant father’s orders; however, their friendship never really ended—it was just suspended. She would still smile at him whenever they passed in the halls at school, would silently slip birthday cards in his book bag and tape those you’re still my best bud notes on his locker. And then there was the time on prom night when they managed to slip away from the watchful eyes of the chaperones to steal a kiss in the garden.

      Then he finished high school and left for college. But he had thought about her often, wondering what she was doing and if she was still under her father’s thumb. Had she broken free of him, now thinking for herself, living the full life she deserved?

      He’d always thought about looking her up and he used to ask his grandfather about her during his visits home, but fear of what Samuel Timmons would do to her made him keep his distance.

      He would never forget that night, six years ago, while onstage performing with his band, when he had looked out in the audience and had seen her. Shiloh was in her last year of college, and it was her birthday weekend. It had been years since he’d last seen her, but he had recognized her immediately. Gone was the kid he’d grown up with, the one who used to be his best pal, who would smile up at him through her braces. She had grown into a totally beautiful woman.

      When the concert was over, he invited her backstage, and later they went to the after-party. When that party ended, he took her to a late-night restaurant for ice cream and cake to celebrate her twenty-third birthday. After that night, she would show up at his concerts whenever she could while working on her graduate degree at Northeastern University in Boston.

      During his concerts he would search the audience, seeking her out, hoping to see her face. And then there was the night she had gone back to his hotel room with him after a concert and they’d made love. Wonderful, beautiful love, and he’d known that night that he loved her and that he had always loved her.

      For two years, they’d kept their affair a secret from everyone and planned to elope to Vegas. She was supposed to meet him in Vegas that weekend, and once the ceremony was over they would fly to Paris for a brief honeymoon.

      But she hadn’t shown up that weekend. He had waited in that hotel room for three days; he had tried calling her. When he finally made a connection at one of her numbers, some man had answered her phone and said she was in the shower and couldn’t be bothered.

      He had just been about to leave, to fly to Boston to find out what the hell was going on, when he’d received a special delivery packet—a packet containing pictures that were still imprinted on his brain. He had taken one look at them and, combined with the conversation with the man who had answered her phone, he had immediately assumed the worst.

      Caden moved away from his desk and walked to the window, a deep self-loathing within himself for the way he had treated Shiloh after that. He hadn’t heard from her for more than three months after receiving those photographs, and now he knew why.

      Believing the worst, he had deleted her number from his contact list and blocked any calls from her. Even when she’d shown up at one of his concerts eight months later, he’d asked Security to escort her out. He hadn’t wanted her there.

      She hadn’t attended another concert...until that night last month in New York. He had looked into the audience and she was there, but still he had a hardened heart. And over three weeks ago, she had sought him out to tell him what had happened, and he hadn’t wanted to hear anything she said. He closed his eyes when he remembered how he’d spoken to her, the mean, hateful things he’d said. How could he have been so wrong?

      He had to apologize. He had to ask her to forgive him. But what if she didn’t accept his apology? What if she didn’t forgive him? Dread consumed him at those thoughts. He inhaled a deep breath, knowing he had to try. But first he had to find out where she was. Mrs. Timmons said she was no longer living at Shady Pines. Had she left Charlottesville? If she had, where had she gone? If she was still here, then where was she living? The last person he wanted to talk to again was her mother, but he would try her brother. Sedrick would know how to contact her. All he had to do was contact St. Francis Hospital and track him down.

      Caden was about to move away from the window to use the phone on his desk when there was a knock at his door. Thinking it was Dalton returning, he said, “Come in, Dalton.”

      Instead of Dalton, his brother Jace walked in.

      Taking one look at his younger brother, Jace said, “What is it, Caden? You look like shit.”

      Caden knew Jace’s observation was probably true, because that was exactly how he felt right now. “What are you doing here, Jace?” he asked, instead of responding to his brother’s inquiry. “We thought you wouldn’t be back for a few more days. You didn’t think Dalton and I could handle things till you got back? You aren’t the only one who can run things around here.” As soon as he’d said the words, Caden regretted doing so.

      “Sorry,” Caden said, moving to his desk, pulling out the chair to sit down. “Ignore me today. It hasn’t been my best.”

      Jace stared at his brother for a moment. “Does it have anything to do with Sandra Timmons’s visit? She was getting on the elevator when I got off. She seemed upset about something.”

      “And she should be. Damn, Jace—she and Samuel Timmons did the unthinkable and, like a fool, I fell for it. How could I have been so damned gullible, so fucking stupid?”

      Jace took the chair in front of Caden’s desk. “I can’t answer that until I know what you’re talking about.”

      Caden drew in a deep breath and then told Jace the nature of Sandra Timmons’s visit. He could tell from Jace’s expression that he was just as appalled as Caden was, but he listened without interrupting.

      Then Jace asked, “So what are you going to do? From what you’ve told me, you treated Shiloh pretty damned shabbily.”

      Yes, he had. And Caden wasn’t proud of what he’d done. “First I intend to find out where she is. Then I’ll go to her and apologize and then try like hell to convince her that I’m truly sorry for my actions.”

      “I’m playing devil’s advocate for a minute,” Jace said, staring at his brother. “What if she doesn’t believe you and wants nothing to do with you?”

      Caden tapped his finger on his desk a few times as he thought about what Jace was asking and had to face up to the fact that that was a real possibility. “I won’t give up on her, Jace. No matter how long it takes, I will not give up. I will make it up to her. But first, I need to find out where she is. I need to go see her and talk with her. Then we’ll go from there.”

      Four

      Dalton Granger checked his watch before entering the private investigator’s office. Great! He was on time for once in his life. He had toyed with the idea of hiring a private investigator for a couple of weeks, and now here he was.

      He glanced around the sparsely furnished room and saw a woman sitting at a desk. She glanced up at him and smiled. He immediately thought she didn’t look bad for her age, which he estimated to be late forties. And she didn’t have a ring on her finger. While living in England, he was known as a man who preferred older women. In other words, he didn’t mind