Kimberly Van Meter - A Daughter's Perfect Secret

Darcy had never seen a cleaner street. Usually even the nicest cities and towns had little bits of trash that the street sweeper missed, but not Cold Plains. The dark asphalt looked fresh, newly poured, and the crosswalk paint fairly gleamed. It was as if trash wasn’t allowed and anyone who had the audacity to carelessly litter was vigorously dealt with. Darcy shuddered at what her imagination conjured. She’d done a fair amount of homework on Samuel Grayson and Cold Plains before she’d purchased her plane ticket, but there hadn’t been a whole lot out there. A Google search had pulled up some historic photos of the town when it was merely a spot in the road, a trading outpost really, and she’d managed to find a few street views from the Google maps, but the town had maintained a rural atmosphere. Certainly charming to the eye at first glance, she thought wistfully. Too bad there was something rotten in Denmark. She adjusted her purse, where her mother’s picture lay tucked in her wallet, and set out to wander around, looking every bit the happy-go-lucky tourist.

Somewhere, a deep resonant bonging startled her, and she realized the noise was coming from an impressive three-story building of marble and glass, directly ahead on the main street. A man must’ve noticed her shock and confusion, because he tapped her on the shoulder with a warm smile. “New to Cold Plains?” the man asked.

“Oh, uh, yes, actually. What’s going on?” She motioned to the people starting to file toward the building.

A smile wreathed the man’s face. “It’s time for the noon session. You’re in for a real treat. Do you believe in fate?”

No. Not really. “A little, I think,” she lied, curious to see where this fruitloop was headed. “Why?”

“Because fate brought you to Cold Plains. And now you’ll find out why. Come.” He held his hand out to her, and she wondered if this was how the victims of Jim Jones fell under his charm. All it took was one step…. Well, she was here for answers. She pasted a bright smile on her lips and accepted his hand. He grinned. “You won’t regret it. Samuel’s sessions are almost magical. So inspiring.”

Samuel Grayson … A dangerous chill touched her skin. Time to meet Daddy.

Darcy entered the community center and allowed her awe to show. “Wow, this is some fancy place for such a small town,” she said, taking in the huge fresh spray of flowers gracing the entry and the sweet fragrance they gave off. “Who pays for all this?” she wondered out loud.

“Needs are met as they are needed,” the man said by way of answer, which to Darcy’s mind wasn’t much of an answer at all. Maybe the man was a politician. He directed her to an empty seat. “Enjoy and be transformed.”

And then he melted into the crowd, which was okay by Darcy, because truthfully, the guy was creeping her out more than a little. Maybe it was because she wasn’t accustomed to such overt polite behavior from total strangers, or maybe she was just more of a city girl than a country girl and didn’t know how to react when someone wasn’t flipping her off or stealing her cab. Either way, she was happy to sit and simply observe unnoticed for the time being.

She scanned the crowd and immediately noted a striking commonality: it was the congregation of beautiful people.

Not a single unattractive person milled about. So much for diversity, she thought uneasily. It was probably an odd coincidence. How could a whole town be comprised of models?

She shifted in her seat and a man caught her eye. Of course, like everyone else in the building, he was attractive, but there was something else about him that drew her. Tall, with a lean but solid frame that filled his shirt nicely and narrowed to tight hips, he stood in the back, observing with an eye as keen as her own. An odd flutter tickled her stomach, and she quickly turned away for fear of being caught staring. Everyone in this place was cuckoo, she reminded herself. Even if they were hotter than hell.

A hush fell upon the crowd, and Darcy saw that a man had taken the stage. The man, mesmerizing with his midnight hair, which gleamed in the fluorescent light, flashed incredibly white teeth in a broad, magnanimous grin that immediately caused her to suck in a painfully tight breath. She was looking at her father. No matter that she’d come to find answers and she’d followed the trail to Cold Plains, a part of her had hoped that Louise had been wrong. That her adoptive mother’s bedside confession had simply been the unfortunate ramblings of a woman doped up on intense dosages of morphine and not that of a woman harboring a deadly secret. But there was no denying that the enigmatic man captivating the assembled crowd had contributed to her DNA. How did she know for sure? It wasn’t some New Agey feeling—no, it was much simpler than that.

She was his spitting image.

Suddenly, everything began to swim, and for the first time in her life, Darcy slid right out of her chair and onto the floor.

She’d fainted.

Darcy slowly opened her eyes and focused on the blurry face full of concern and struggled to sit up.

“Hold on, you’ve fainted,” a voice, low and soft but distinctly masculine, said. The man smelled of cinnamon, and gave a gentle push on her shoulder to remain lying down. “Are you dizzy? Does your head hurt?”

She covered her eyes with her hand and bit her lip, more mortified than anything else. So much for blending in, stealthlike. Seemed her ninja skills weren’t up to par. Not that she’d ever had any.

“Miss?” the voice prompted, causing her to shake her head.

“I’m fine. Just embarrassed.” Against the man’s direction, she rolled to her side and sat up, realizing she was no longer in the community center. Gone were the marble-accented furniture and glossy floors, replaced with country kitsch and quaint down-home charm. “Um. Where am I?” She blinked away the fuzziness in her vision and choked back a gasp when she realized the man she’d seen earlier at the community center, the one whom she’d been compelled to stare at, was now staring at her with an air of concern and curiosity. “And … who are you?”

When he smiled, the corners of his mouth lifted but his eyes remained deadly serious, and Darcy found the contradiction unsettling, just like everything else in this place. Except, in spite of that, she couldn’t deny there was something about him that made her mouth dry and her thoughts wander.

“My name is Dr. Rafe Black. You passed out at the community center, and you were brought here. It’s closer than the urgent-care clinic,” he explained, then returned to his diagnostic mode by removing a penlight and shining it in her eyes. She batted it away on instinct. She’d only just recovered her sight, and now she had dots dancing before her eyes. He frowned. “I had to check for a concussion,” he said, pocketing the penlight. “And what is your name?”

“Darcy Craven. Nice to meet you. And I slid from my chair, not the roof,” she grumbled, highly embarrassed by the whole incident. “Really, I’m fine. Please don’t make a fuss. I was very accident-prone as a child, so this is nothing,” she said, trying to lighten things up. She didn’t like the way her stomach was still doing tiny flutters at being so close to the handsome doctor. There was far more at stake than finding a hot guy to date. Before Louise had gotten sick, Darcy had been a different kind of girl—out for the good time and the fun—but then everything had changed when Louise had needed her. Responsibility had been an uncomfortable fit at first, but she’d quickly adapted when she realized she was all Louise had in the world and vice versa. It’d made her grow up fast. She supposed a part of that irresponsible girl still lived and breathed, because otherwise, how else would she have had the wherewithal to embark on this dangerous quest? Be that as it may, it didn’t mean she had to follow every impulse, and that included allowing herself to be attracted to the handsome stranger, who, by the way, was still scrutinizing her every move with that serious stare.