One in a Billion. Beth Kery

You were right in thinking something didn’t match up with his presentation and the diagnosis of multiple strokes. Because of your recommendation, we found out Linc’s dysfunction wasn’t just from his strokes. He had a brain tumor. You were right about that all along.”

      The surge of grief that went through her gave her the strength she needed to face the fire, breaking his magnetic stare. She lifted her chin. “I guess you were always too busy being suspicious that I’m a conniving opportunist to thank me at The Pines.”

      “I’ve been thinking about that. Maybe you’re right,” he conceded slowly. She glanced over at him in surprise. “Having Lincoln inform me that he had a daughter shook me up a bit. I’ve been trying to make sense of things, and I can see why you take me for a rude, single-minded jerk. Why don’t you turn the tables on me? Ask me anything you like.”

      For a second, she just stared at him silently before she directed her gaze to the flames.

      “How did you meet Lincoln?” she asked.

      “I was paired up with him in a Big Brother program when I was eight years old. Who knows where I would have ended up if that hadn’t happened? Prison, most likely. Let’s see,” he paused, his gaze focused elsewhere as he delved into his memories. “I would have been in my sixth foster home placement in two years when I first met Linc. That summer, he hired me as his stable boy. I worked for him, in one capacity or another, for the next thirty years of my life, the only exception being when I was on active duty with the air force.”

      Her gaze lingered on his lips for two heartbeats. It was a firm mouth. She could imagine him giving brisk orders with it … easily picture every instruction being followed to a T.

      It was also a sensual mouth. She could just as easily imagine women following his every demand in the bedroom. A flicker of annoyance went through her at the thought, but so did a flash of heat.

      “Where did you serve while you were in the military?”

      “I moved around. Turkey, Iraq—Operation Southern Watch. I did a stint in Sierra Leone.”

      “Were you involved in Operation Silver Anvil?” she asked, referring to the European Joint Operations Task Force that evacuated hundreds of people out of Sierra Leone by plane after a bloody military coup d’état.

      “Yeah.”

      She gave him a swift, assessing glance. “Are you a pilot?”

      He nodded once. “Still am, for private purposes. I own a Cessna that I use to get around the country for business. I flew it here, actually. I’m renting hangar space over at Tulip City Airport.”

      She smiled. She should have known. He matched the profile of an air force pilot perfectly: handsome, cocky, amazingly sure of himself. His raised brows told her he’d noticed her smug expression. She hurried to change the subject.

      “What happened to your parents?”

      “They were killed in a car accident when I was six.”

      Her head swung around. “That’s horrible. I’m sorry.”

      He shrugged. “Unlike most people, I know you really do understand just how terrible it was.”

      She swallowed and stepped away from the heat. She’d never spoken with him about the circumstances of Derry Kavanaugh’s death, or the fact that Derry had caused an accident killing three other people, altering the paths of a dozen or more lives forever.

      “Did Lincoln tell you about Derry dying in a car crash?”

      “No.”

      Something in his tone made suspicion flicker in her. “Oh … I see. The infamous private investigator told you.” She shook her head, feeling more exhausted than angry when his level gaze confirmed the truth of her words.

      “You left me little choice but to have him gather all the details of your history,” Nick admitted. “You refused to talk to me about your past or tell me anything about you.”

      She bit her lower lip, repressing her typical urge to tell him her life was none of his business. The words sounded thin and hollow tonight. “I’m a little tired. It’s been a long day,” she said.

      “You should eat. Why don’t you let me take you out to dinner? Or we could order in.”

      “No,” she said too abruptly. She blushed and hurried to cover her rudeness. “I … I mean, I really couldn’t eat much more. I’m stuffed from a big brunch at Jake’s Place.”

      “Can I take you to dinner tomorrow night, then?”

      She gave an exasperated sigh. “You just don’t quit, do you?”

      “I told you I was determined.”

      “Determined to investigate my character and motives, or to fulfill Lincoln’s wishes?” she murmured quietly.

      “There’s no reason I can’t do both at once,” Nick said before he strode toward the kitchen. Deidre followed. While he was putting on his coat, he added, “I’ll bring you a copy of the will when we have dinner tomorrow.”

      “Is it possible to get two copies? I want my brother Marc to look it over. He’s an attorney. You could drop his copy off at the Starling Hotel front desk, if it’ll make things easier for you. Marc and his family are staying there, too.”

      He nodded. She struggled to interpret his expression when he didn’t move.

      “I probably should admit something.”

      “What?” she asked.

      “I’m here at Lincoln’s request and because I need to understand better why Lincoln changed his will. But aside from that … I’m glad to have the opportunity to get to know you better.”

      She just stared at him with her mouth partially open, too amazed to speak. Was he saying what she thought he was saying? Unless he was testing her again—

      “Get a good night’s sleep,” he said, interrupting her confused thoughts.

      “I’ll do my best,” she replied automatically. He gave her one last glance before he turned away. He checked the lock on the door before he closed it quietly behind him.

      It wasn’t until later that she realized she hadn’t objected to him assuming she’d have dinner with him tomorrow.

      She lay in bed that night, wondering why she’d grown so discombobulated when Nick mentioned the death of his parents. The reason finally came to her; it was the knowledge of how much they had in common. They’d both served in the military. Both of them had lost parents in car wrecks. Both of them had loved Lincoln DuBois. Circumstances had made them both highly independent and self-sufficient people.

      They were both loners. And while Deidre wasn’t an orphan in the classic sense, she thought she might have more of an idea of the loneliness of the condition than the average person. She knew the feeling of being different, of never perfectly fitting in anywhere.

      She squeezed her eyes shut and rolled on her side. After recognizing that shared bond with Nick, sleep was a long time coming.

      A light snow was starting to fall when she left the house at eleven the next morning. She had plans to visit Marc, Mari and her adorable little niece and godchild, Riley, at the Starling Hotel.

      She recalled how Nick had casually slipped into their conversation last night that they’d have dinner together that evening. Was she going to let him get away with his subtle manipulation to spend time with her, or would she avoid Cedar Cottage during the dinner hour? She honestly wasn’t sure about her answer as she headed over to the Starling Hotel, hoping all the while she had no unexpected run-ins with Nick.

      During lunch she spilled the news about the will to a stunned Marc and Mari.

      After the meal, Mari, Riley and she wandered out into the festively decorated hotel lobby while Marc went to check for a fax from