CHAPTER 2

          Oh, he remembered her… Only too well. And from her ramrod-straight back, Damien gathered she remembered his little nickname for her. That stubborn I will get my way look brought it all back.

          Regina Duquesne used to look at him that very same way when they were teenagers after he’d brushed her off like an annoying mosquito, dismissed her without a care for her feelings.

          Just a pesky little kid always hanging around, begging his family for attention. Until that last time. The time he’d taunted her for trying to horn in on a family that didn’t want her. Her tears had imprinted on his conscience, permanently.

“Damien,” she acknowledged him with a cool nod.

          Then she turned her attention back to Theodore.

“Take these pills, please.”

          She might look elegant and serene, but Damien could see the steel beneath the silk from across the room. Was there sexy under there, too? Nope, he’s not going to think about it now.

          His strict, one-night stand policy meant no strings attached, and that woman had heart and home written all over her body. He wouldn’t be here long enough to find out anything... about anybody.

          With a low grumble, Theodore took the pills from her hand and chased them down with the water.

“Are you happy now?”

          His attitude didn’t faze her… not one bit.

“Yes, sir, I am absolutely ecstatic. Thank you very much!”

          Her smile only hinted that she was patronizing him. Her presence as a nurse piqued Damien’s curiosity. His gaze lingered on her retreat to the far window, the rain outside a gray backdrop to her scrubs, before returning to the bed that dominated the room. His voice deepened to a growl.

“What do you want, old man?”

          One corner of his grandfather’s mouth lifted slightly, then fell as if his strength had drained away in a rush.

“A sharp-shooter! Straight to the point. I’ve always liked that in you, boy.”

          His words slurred.

“But you’re right. We don’t have all the time in the world… not anymore. Might as well get on with it.”

          Theodore straightened a bit in the bed.

“Damien, I had a heart attack. Serious, but I’m not dead yet. Still, this little episode…”

“Little!” Regina exclaimed shaking her head disapprovingly.

          His grandfather ignored her outburst.

“This episode has warned me it’s time to get my affairs in order. Secure the future of the Kennedy legacy.”

          He nodded toward the man standing nearby.

“John Stanton… my lawyer.”

          Damien gave the man’s shifting stance a good once-over. Ah, there he is… The man behind the phone call...

“He must pay you well if you’re willing to lie about matters of life and death.”

“John merely indulged me under the circumstances,” Theodore answered for Stanton, displaying his usual unrepentant attitude.

          Whatever it takes to get the job done.

          Those were the words Theodore had repeated so often in Damien’s presence until he kinda found them engraved in his brain.

“You’re needed at home, Damien,” his grandfather said. “It’s your responsibility to be here, to take care of the family when I die.”

“Again with this story?” Damien couldn’t help saying.

          Once more his grandfather’s lips lifted in a weak semblance of the smirk Damien remembered too well.

“Sooner than I like to think. Stanton…”

          Damien frowned as his grandfather’s head eased back against the pillows as if he simply didn’t have the energy to keep up his diabolical power-monger role anymore. “As your grandfather told you, I’m his lawyer,” Stanton said as he reached out to shake Damien’s hand, his grip forceful, perhaps overcompensating for his thin frame. “I’ve been handling your grandfather’s affairs for about five years now.”

“You have my condolences, Mr. Stanton,” Damien said.

          The lawyer paused, blinking behind his glasses at Damien’s droll tone. Theodore lifted his head, irritation adding to the strain on his lined face.

“There are things that need to be taken care of, Damien. Soon.”

          His own anger rushed to replace numb curiosity.

“You mean, you’re going to arrange everything so it will continue just the way you want it.”

          This time, Theodore managed to jerk forward in a shadow of his favorite stance… that of looming over the unsuspecting victim.

“Boy, I’ve run this family for over fifty years. I know what’s best. Not some slacker who runs away at the first hint of responsibility. Your mother…”

          He fell back with a gasp, shaking as his eyes closed.

“Regina,” Stanton said, his sharp tone echoing in the room.

          She crossed to the bed and checked Theodore’s pulse on the underside of his fragile wrist. Damien noticed the tremble of her fingers with their blunt-cut nails. So, she wasn’t indifferent. Did she actually care for the old man?

          Somehow, he couldn’t imagine it. Then she held Theodore’s head while he swallowed some more water. Her abundant hair swung forward to hide her features, but her movements were efficient and sure.

          Despite wanting to remain unmoved, Damien’s heart sped up.

“You should be in a hospital,” he said.

“They couldn’t make him stay once your grandfather refused further treatments. He said if he was going to die, he would die at the Kennedy Mansion,” Stanton said. “Regina was already in residence and could follow the doctor’s orders...”

          His grandfather breathed deeply, then rested back against the pillows, his mouth drawn, eyes closed.

“Can you?” Damien asked her.

          Regina glanced up, treating him to another glimpse of creamy, flawless skin and chocolate eyes flickering with worry.

“Of course, I can,” she replied, her tone matter-of-fact. “Mr. Kennedy isn’t going to die. But he will need significant recovery time. I’d prefer him to stay in the hospital for a bit longer, but...”

          Her shrug said what can you do when a person’s crazy? Something about her rubbed Damien wrong. Regina Duquesne didn’t belong in this room or with these people. Her beauty and grace shouldn’t be sullied by his grandfather’s villainous legacy.

          But that calm, professional facade masked her feelings in this situation. Was she just here for the job? Or another reason? Once more, Damien felt jealous of her, wishing he could master his own emotions so completely.

          Unfortunately, he was out of practice in dealing with the old man. This time, Regina retreated to the shadows beyond the abundant purple bed curtains. Close, but not hovering.

          Though keenly aware of her presence, Damien could barely make out her form as she leaned against the wall with her arms wrapped around her waist. It unsettled him, distracted him. Right now, he needed all his focus on the battle he sensed was coming.

“Your grandfather is concerned for the mill…” Stanton said.

“Tough luck! I don’t give a damn what happens to that place. Tear it down! Burn it, for all I care!”

          His grandfather’s jaw tightened, but he made no attempt to defend the business where he’d poured what little humanity he possessed, completely ignoring the needs of his family. The emotional needs, at least.

“And the town?” Stanton asked. “You don’t care what happens to the people working in Kennedy Mills? Generations of townspeople, your mother’s friends, kids you went to school with, June’s nieces and nephews?”

          Damien clamped his jaw tight. He didn’t want to get involved, but as the lawyer spoke, faces flashed through his mind’s eye. The mill had stood for centuries, starting out as a simple cotton gin.

          Last Damien had heard, it was a leading manufacturer in cotton products, specializing in high-end linens. Theodore might be a soulless bastard, but his insistence on quality had kept the company viable in a shaky economy.

          He jammed a rough hand through his damp hair, probably making the spiky top stand on end. Without warning, Damien felt a familiar surge of rebellion.

“I don’t want to take over. I’ve never wanted to.”

          Damien strode across the plush carpet to stare out the window into the storm-shadowed distance. Tension tightened the muscles along the back of his neck and skull. Familial responsibility wasn’t his thing… Not anymore. He’d handed that job over to his brothers a long time ago.

          He realized he was shifting minutely from one foot to the other. Creeping in underneath the turbulence was a constant awareness of Regina’s presence, like a sizzle under his skin, loosening his control over his other emotions inch by inch.

          She drew him, kept part of his attention even when he was talking to the others. How had she come to be here? How long had she been here? Had she ever found a place to belong? The heightened emotion increased the tension in his neck. A dull headache started to form.

“You knew something like this was coming, considering your age…” Damien gestured back toward the bed. “You should have sold, old man. Or turned the business over to someone else. One of my brothers, for example.”

“It isn’t their duty,” Theodore insisted. “As firstborn, it’s yours… and way past time you learned your place.”

          As if he could sense the rage starting to boil deep inside Damien, Stanton stepped in.

“Mr. Kennedy wants the mill to remain a family institution that will continue to provide jobs and a center for the town. The only potential buyers we have, want to tear it down and sell off the land.”

          Damien latched on to the family institution part.

“Ah… The lasting name of Kennedy. Planned a monument yet?”

          A weary yet insistent voice drifted from the bed.

“I will do what needs to be done. And so will you.”

“How will you manage that? I walked out that door once. I’m more than happy to do it again.”

“Really? Do you think that’s the best thing for your mother?” Theodore went on as if Damien hadn’t spoken. “I’ve worked my entire life to build on the hard work of my own father. I will not let my life’s work disappear because you, boy, won’t do your duty. You will return where you belong. I’ll see to that. If it’s the last thing I do on this earth.”

          Damien used his hand to squeeze away the tightness in his neck.

“Oh, no… I’m not buying into that song and dance. As far as I’m concerned, this family line should die out. If the Kennedy name disappears, all the better.”

“I knew you’d feel that way,” his grandfather said with a long-suffering sigh. “That’s why I’m prepared to make it worth your while.”