It was almost physically painful to leave the office empty-handed, but she forced herself to do it. Walking home along Rorie, she fought the anxiety that tightened her muscles to the point of making it difficult to breathe. This was going to be good. This would be fine.
In her condo, she didn’t even bother to change out of her suit, just grabbed a suitcase and started throwing things in. What did she need for a week at the lake? A few bathing suits. A few pairs of shorts and tank tops. Flip-flops. Sunscreen and a big can of bug spray.
She paused to download some books onto her digital reader, enough to keep her busy for a week of lying on the beach. No legal briefs or depositions or research materials for her. Just an assortment of romance novels by favorite authors she hadn’t had time to read for a long time.
She hauled her suitcase down to her car in the parking garage, heaved it into the trunk of her little BMW and slammed the lid down. She was outta there.
Traffic was already getting heavy heading out of the city. Friday afternoon and everyone else was apparently getting an early start on the weekend too. Once out of the city and onto Highway 59, she pressed the gas pedal until the speedometer needle was at a hundred and five clicks, just barely over the speed limit. She had about an hour drive ahead of her and that was time to do a lot of thinking.
She could kick herself for being such a pushover, such a sucker that she’d sacrifice her personal life, her family life, for the firm, for making partner. But just because Jim and Alex were golfing together didn’t mean anything. It didn’t mean that Alex was going to be the new partner. But glumly, she couldn’t help feeling it wasn’t a very good sign. She turned things over and over in her head until the terrain on either side of the highway changed from scrubby to marshy as she neared Lake Winnipeg. Then she turned off the highway into the tiny resort town of Crystal Beach.
She was there. Even just driving down Main Street toward the public beach made her relax ever so slightly. She passed the familiar little businesses, the grocery store, the bar, the bakery, the tiny little movie theater that only played movies on weekends. She let out a long breath. Disappointment still weighed on her, though, that she wasn’t arriving here as a full-fledged partner in the law firm. She wasn’t yet a big loser in that race, but she almost felt like it. Damn.
She turned onto Maple Street, then Bluebell Lane, a narrow tree-lined street that followed the curve of the lakeshore with cottages on either side. On the west side of the street the cottages backed onto the lake, and one of those cottages was her parents’. She had to smile at seeing all the cars parked in the small driveway and on the narrow road in front. Some of those vehicles likely belonged to the Hellers, who had the cottage next door. A little ripple of excitement ran through her at getting to see all those old friends and family.
She found a place to park. She hadn’t called anyone to say she was coming. Maybe she should have. When she opened her car door, the freshness of the air filled her nostrils and she drew it deeply into her lungs―the combined scent of pine and freshly mowed grass and the faintly fishy smell of the big lake.
She approached the cottage, lugging her suitcase and taking in the familiar structure, a sprawling bungalow style painted white with neat grey shingles on the roof, black shutters on the windows and a bright yellow front door. She bypassed the front entrance, though, and followed the stone-paved path around the side, through a gate in a white picket fence covered with climbing pink roses, and around to the rear of the cottage, which she well knew was where everyone would be. There, the expansive wooden deck looked out over the grass sloping down toward the white sand beach, the lake spread in its magnificence just beyond that. The low sun drenched everything in vivid color, green grass, bright red, purple and yellow flowers hanging in baskets and overflowing out of pots, everything almost glowing. So beautiful.
The sounds of voices reached her as she rounded the corner of the cottage, talking and laughing. Then she saw everyone on the deck, a whole group of very big, very gorgeous men all standing, some leaning against the railing, beers in hand. Dad played down on the grass with Emily, Mom reclined on one of the lounge chairs. Scott’s wife Jessica sat in a chair nursing a baby and another woman Kyla didn’t know occupied a chair next to her. Doug and Laura Heller stood near the house.
One of the men leaning on the railing looked up and spotted her.
“Hey! Kyla’s here!” Her brother Scott grinned and everyone turned to look at her. She smiled at them all, so happy and relieved and excited to be there, to see everyone. And then that feeling of pressure rose up inside her again, so unexpectedly she couldn’t get her breath. She tried to draw air into her lungs, but her head went light and dizzy. She put out a hand for the railing of the steps up to the deck, hoping it would help her balance, but her hand encountered only air and then her vision narrowed into a tiny circle of light before everything went black.
Tag stood on the deck of the MacIntoshs’ cottage and watched the woman walking toward them, a suitcase bumping over the stone path behind her. Her long dark hair, parted in the middle, hung in curls and waves past her shoulders. A smile lit up her perfect oval face, her dark eyes smiling too. She looked a little out of place there at the lake in a black pencil skirt and a fitted white shirt that hugged her slender curves and—holy shit—amazing breasts, but she was stunningly gorgeous. That was Kyla?
Yeah. That was her. The smile was familiar, the way her eyes crinkled up when she smiled, the glossy brown hair. Then her smile faded, her face went visibly pale, almost green, her eyes went out of focus and then next thing they all knew, she was lying face down on the grass.
“Oh my god!” Jenn cried, leaping out of her seat. Everyone else cried out, the guys cursing and hurtling down the steps.
“Auntie Kywa!” Emily came running across the grass. “Auntie Kywa! Is she dead?” She burst into tears.
The entire yard was a commotion of anxious cries and swearing and Emily’s sobbing. Jenn called for her husband. “Greg, come quick!”
Tag reached Kyla first and gently rolled her onto her back. Her long hair spread around her head and her eyes fluttered. He touched his fingers to her cheek. “You okay?” he murmured.
Everyone else crowded around and Kyla’s eyes opened. She stared up at them all blankly. “What…” she croaked. “What happened?”
“You fainted, honey,” Jenn said. “Help her sit up, Tag. Push her head between her knees.”
Tag helped her sit. He couldn’t help but notice how her white shirt tightened across her breasts, how the buttons were undone low enough to see cleavage, and how her skirt had ridden up on her thighs, revealing spectacular legs.
“I’m okay,” Kyla murmured, sounding dazed. With gentle pressure on the back of her silky head, he pushed her forward. “I can’t really…do this…in this skirt.”
No kidding. From where he knelt, Tag glimpsed red panties. He swallowed.
“Someone carry her up onto the deck,” Jenn ordered. “Scott, you do it.”
“Carry her!” Scott protested. “She’ll break my back.”
Tag snorted. Kyla looked like she weighed next to nothing, though she did have some nice curves on her. Scott was joking, of course. “Wuss,” Tag said to Scott, lifting Kyla easily into his arms and carrying her up the five steps to the deck. He lowered her to the lounge chair where her mom had just been sitting.
“Oh my god,” Kyla groaned. “I can’t believe this.” She put her hands to her still-pale cheeks.
“How do you feel, honey?” Jenn hovered beside her. “Hot? Dizzy?”