She could just imagine the strife it would cause in his life if his sister found out that he was hanging around her, having breakfast with her. As for his brother Patrick, well, Cyndi didn't want to think about what he might do. He had the power to make her life very uncomfortable in this town.

The irony of the situation didn't escape her. Years before, it had been the O'Rourke family who hadn't had any power against the influential James family. Now the shoe was on the other foot. From her conversation with her father's lawyer yesterday, she knew that Burke Black, Shamus's brother-in-law, was now one of the most prominent men in town. Now to find out that Patrick O'Rourke was the sheriff... Well, if she hadn't felt welcome in Jamesville before, it felt triply that way now.

Shamus was sitting silently beside her, waiting for her to tell him where to go. He might be younger than her, but there was a steadiness about him, a calmness that made him seem more mature.

Keeping her eyes on the road in front of her, she gave him directions. “We're going to James Lane."

She could feel his eyes on her for a moment and then the truck began to move. “Not many houses on James Lane.” He said it casually, but she could hear the underlying question in his voice.

"No, there's not.” Her tone was flat and didn't invite further comment. If he was bound and determined to dig up the past, he could wait until she'd gathered her thoughts.

Her head was beginning to throb, and no wonder. She'd slept in fits and starts last night, waking at every groan and creak the house made. Even though she'd brought her own pillows and comforter with her, there was no disguising the fact that she wasn't in her cozy bedroom in Vermont anymore.

She hadn't slept well since she'd received that first embossed envelope by special messenger informing her of her father's death. He'd always been a larger-than-life figure. She'd half expected him to live forever. Even from the grave, he'd dictated how he'd wanted matters handled, which was why she'd gotten a letter from the lawyers instead of a phone call.

Leaning her head back against the headrest, she closed her eyes. The darkness helped her head, but it heightened her other senses. She could hear the rustle of material as Shamus turned the wheel of the truck. His scent—sandalwood and a hint of something else, masculine and uniquely Shamus—seemed to fill the cab.

Her fingers curled inward. He was wearing faded jeans and a T-shirt this morning. The shirt, a blue-gray color, matched his eyes and made the color appear even deeper. His shoulders were incredibly wide, his biceps thick. She swallowed a moan of despair. She had to stop thinking about him in that way. Shamus was one indulgence she just couldn't afford, not if she was determined to stay in Jamesville and put the ghosts of her past to rest. He was a part of her past, part of what she'd been running from, whether he knew it or not.

"Cyndi?"

She opened her eyes and turned her head. He was staring at her with obvious concern on his face. Ignoring it, she pointed ahead. “There."

"That's the James's house."

"I know.” She straightened and waited until he pulled the truck in the driveway. When he parked, she grasped the door handle. “You might as well come in."

She slid out of the vehicle, not waiting to see if he was behind her. If he wanted answers, he'd follow her. The thud of a door closing reached her ears, and then she heard the crunch of boots against the gravel.

Cyndi rooted around in her purse until she found her keys. She quickly unlocked the door and stepped inside. Ignoring the oppressive foyer, she headed toward the back of the house and the kitchen. “This way."

She could sense him behind her, but she still didn't face him. She dumped her purse on the kitchen counter and pulled off her jacket, tossing it aside. Grabbing the kettle, she put water on to boil before she finally turned to face Shamus.

He was standing in the doorway, leaning against the doorjamb just watching her. His eyes were hooded, his arms crossed negligently against his chest. “You want to tell me what we're doing here?” The low, rough tone of his voice sent shivers skating down her spine.

No other man had ever had the ability to affect her this easily. It had to be the stress. It couldn't be anything else. She couldn't let it be anything else.

Leaning against the kitchen counter, she crossed her ankles and tried to appear as casual as he did. She could feel the cool marble against the small of her back and she wished she hadn't taken off her jacket.

"This is mine now."

His eyes narrowed and his brows furrowed. “You knew Cyrus James?"

"I'm his daughter.” There. She'd said it, flung the words at him like some gauntlet, daring him to pick it up.

He pushed away from the doorjamb and straightened. He was so broad he all but filled the doorway. His hands went to his hips as he stared at her. “What did you say?"

She took a deep breath wanting to get through this as fast as possible. “My name was Cynthia James; I changed it legally when I left town years ago. I took my mother's maiden name and kept it even when I got married."

"You're married.” His voice got flatter and softer, but Cyndi flinched as if he'd yelled at her. Somehow, his quiet anger was more frightening then her father's loud fury had been.

"No. I'm divorced. I was married more than ten years ago. The marriage didn't last very long.” And why was she telling him all this? She didn't owe him anything, for heaven's sake. He was a kind stranger who'd stopped to help her on the road yesterday, yet somehow she was spilling her guts to him to try to make him understand. “It doesn't matter,” she began.

"Of course it matters.” He took a step toward her and it took everything in her to stand her ground.

"No, it doesn't.” Someone had to be sensible here and it looked as if it would have to be her. “I'm Cynthia James. Don't you have any idea what that means in this town?"

He cocked his eyebrow. “That you're better than me?"

She closed her eyes and almost groaned. They snapped open again when she sensed Shamus moving toward her. “No!” She held out her hand and he came to an abrupt halt.

"No,” she softened her tone. “It doesn't mean I'm better. It means I've got a history in this town and not a very pleasant one. A lot of folks in Jamesville won't be happy to know I'm back, and your sister is one of them."

"Why?” His voice was soft and non-threatening as if he sensed just how on edge she was.

It irritated her and she snapped at him. “Because I was a bitch when I lived here, and I tried to break up Dani and Burke before they were married. You probably don't remember it because you were just a kid."

He didn't react to her barb, which left her feeling small and petty for flinging it at him. What was it about this place that brought out the absolute worst in her?

She reached inside herself for the calm that was usually there and found nothing but a roiling mass of emotions threatening to bubble over. “The short version of the story is that I had problems, and I thought a rich man like Burke could help me out of them. I tried to break up his relationship with Dani, going as far as standing in the middle of Jessie's and accusing him of getting me pregnant. It didn't work, I left town in disgrace, end of story."

It was strange to sum up years of torment and pain in a few short sentences. No one in this town had known the hell that had been her life. The two housekeepers who'd tried to help her when she was still a child had found themselves jobless and soon, penniless. Her father had found secrets in their past, blackmailing them to keep them quiet. As her father had been fond of saying—everyone has a price or a secret and, if you know it, you can control them.

She watched Shamus, but his expression didn't change. She had no idea what he was thinking. She just knew she had to get him out of her house. “Now you understand why you have to stay away from me."

He shook his head and began to walk slowly toward her. His heavy boots thudded against the hardwood floor. By the time she thought to move, it was too late. The counter was behind her and Shamus was in front of her.

He loomed over her, his face grave as he leaned forward and placed his hands on the counter on either side of her, effectively caging her in. She swallowed hard, half afraid, half thrilled by his nearness. She could feel the heat of his body, and she'd been cold for so long.

Cyndi raised her hand and placed it on his chest. She wanted to push him away, instead her fingers curled into his shirt. He lowered his head until their noses were almost touching. His eyes appeared even darker as he stared at her.

"No, I don't understand what that has to do with us. That was a long time ago, Cyndi, and you're not the same woman anymore."

She frowned at him. “How can you say that? You don't know me.” The last thing she'd expected was for him to say something like that. She expected everyone in Jamesville to judge her by her past. After all, they had nothing else to go on.

His hand came up to touch her cheek. It took all her resolve not to turn into his palm and press her face against it. Sympathy and understanding were the last things she'd expected, and they pushed her to the verge of tears. But she blinked them back.

Tears were useless, or at least real tears were. She'd been able to summon fake tears at will years ago, to get her way with men and sometimes, even women. But real tears, the kind she'd shed alone in her bedroom late at night, had gained her nothing.