Pamela Hearon - Out of the Depths

She blinked.

He turned and her eyes met the steeliness of his rock-hard gaze. Her heart made a quick jaunt into her throat and then plummeted to the bottom of her stomach. The face was a bit fuller. The jaw a tad firmer. The hair several inches shorter. But the eyes hadn’t changed at all.

“Chance?” Had the sheriff called her a lawyer? Was her situation that serious? She locked her knees to keep them from buckling. “Why are you here?” The words came out startled and clipped—harsher than she would have used in more congenial circumstances.

A number of emotions crossed his features and she read them as easily as she always had. Confusion. Understanding. Amusement.

So he found her predicament amusing? She held back the smile of recognition and greeting that had been on the edges of her lips, keeping her face neutral and composed.

Chance gave a chuckle, and her mind flashed to the deep voice she’d been hearing—the one she thought belonged to a deputy. Chance’s. How could she not have recognized it?

His dark eyes danced, and his full mouth turned up slightly at one end as he walked over to her and extended his hand. “It’s good to see you, too, Kyndal.”

She clasped his hand. “Did they call you to be my attorney?” A tremor moved up her arm when she spoke the last word. His grip tightened and he covered her hand with his other one. The touch was warm and familiar; it should have been comforting, but it wasn’t. It made her want to curl up in a fetal ball.

The three worst moments in her life—when Chance broke up with her, when the website got closed and now this. She cringed. The website was the only one that had nothing to do with him.

He gave her a questioning look as his smile broadened. “No, I’m not here to represent you.”

His eyes held hers and she was back in Mrs. Cooper’s junior English class, meeting his gaze. She pulled her hand free, not wanting to give him the opportunity to feel it tremble again.

Kyndal’s mind raced. Why would Chance Brennan be standing there in front of her? He was a lawyer…but he wasn’t there to be her lawyer. Was he the prosecuting attorney here to press charges? Oh. My. God! “Chance, I can explain all this. I wanted to get some shots of a cave and the only one I knew of was the one where we, um…” Don’t bring that up! Her mouth was moving too fast. She paused to let her brain catch up. “The one we…we went to—on the lake. There were signs posted about trespassing, but I wasn’t going to hurt anything.” Chance’s eyes danced with amusement. Inside, he was laughing at her! “I’m not stupid, like you’re thinking.”

“Kyndal, I—”

“I know I shouldn’t have trespassed.” She talked faster to explain before he went into his prosecuting spiel. “I could read the signs. But sometimes professional photographers like me—” she emphasized the words “—have to take chances to get the shot we need. As long as nobody gets hurt and property doesn’t get damaged, it’s usually not a problem.” She swallowed hard. “My boots might have done a little damage to one of the walls, but tell Mr. Turner I’ll be glad to pay for the damage.” What if he was unreasonable and tried to make her pay a bunch of money she didn’t have? “As long as it’s within reason. I mean, is he even approachable?” She bit her bottom lip to keep it from trembling.

“It’s okay, Kyn. It’s me.” Chance reached out. His finger brushed her cheek in a gesture that shook her to her core.

She turned away quickly, not letting him finish. “I know it’s you, but you’re working for him.”

A movement caught her attention. The sheriff crossed his arms and leaned against a file cabinet, silently taking this all in. She’d forgotten about him. “Can you get me a lawyer?”

His eyebrows shot up at her sudden address, and he shrugged.

“Kyndal.” Chance’s voice was right behind her and then his hands were on her shoulders, turning her around to face him. “You don’t need a lawyer. I won’t be pressing charges.” The mature take-charge tone of his deeper-than-she-remembered voice screamed the changes in him. He was a man now. With very large, warm hands.

He was studying her, no doubt weighing the girl he had known against the woman before him.

Much as she hated to admit it, she hoped a few years had added more character and wisdom. And she found herself hoping he found those traits attractive. Not that it made any difference, of course. But she did hope he didn’t sigh with relief at his lucky escape.

No sigh. An appreciative smile instead. “I’m the owner, Kyn. I own that land, cave and all.”

His hands dropped to his sides, and her temperature dropped a few degrees at the loss of his touch. But the cooling-off period lasted only until his words sank in. He was the owner! He should’ve told her that first thing. Instead, he’d been having fun at her expense. Her cheeks burned with humiliation. “You’ve been enjoying this, haven’t you?” She lit into him full force. “Seeing me squirm. Why didn’t you tell me as soon as you came in?”

“I tried. You wouldn’t—”

“You should’ve tried harder.”

“Apparently.” He ran his hand down his face, and turned his attention to the sheriff. “Buck, Kyndal and I are…old friends.”

The dismissive wave of his hand when he said those words hit Kyndal as soundly as a slap in the face. The derisive snort shot from her before she could control of anger. “Yeah. We sort of lost contact in college.”

Chance’s eyes darkened. “I’m sorry you went through this, Kyndal. I’ve had some trouble with teenagers.”

“Apparently.” She mimicked his previous tone.

“Did you see anything?”

She jumped at the sound of Sheriff Blaine’s voice behind her. “Did I see anything that looked like somebody had been there?” She moved mentally through the areas she had seen this morning. “No. But there are a lot of different ways to go from that first room.”

A blast of voice and static came over the sheriff’s two-way radio. “Sheriff, there’s been a wreck in front of the bank in Draffenville. No one’s hurt, but one of the drivers is drunk.”

Sheriff Blaine pulled the radio from his belt. “I’ll be right there.” He zipped up his leather jacket, which stretched tight over his paunch. “Hate to break up the reunion, but, Ms. Rawlings, we need to get you back to your car. I’ll stop in Draffenville and send you the rest of the way with Deputy Howard.”

Before Kyndal could answer, Chance waved away the suggestion. “I’ll take her back to her car.”

“Your stuff’s at the front desk.” The sheriff nodded his head toward the front room. “Hope I don’t see you again.” He smiled, and Kyndal heard a pleasant tone to his voice for the first time. “Unless it’s social.” He winked and clapped Chance on the back as he passed.

The sheriff’s exit cut her humiliation in half. If only Chance would leave, she could wallow in what must be a ten-ton vat of self-recrimination hanging in her stomach.

Instead, the weight increased when he crossed his arms and frowned. “Now, what were you really doing at my cave? I’m not aware of any problem it might be creating for Kentucky Lake. No pollution, no chemical dumping—unless it’s pot from the kids, which I’m trying to get stopped.”

So he’d heard about True Tennessee. She squared her shoulders, determined not to shrink from his tense look. “I told you why I was there. I need photos of a cave. A tourism magazine is starting up.”

“Tourism, eh?” He smiled then, but a smirk seemed to hang around the edges of his lips. “Does that mean you’ve left the dark side?”

“I was never on the dark side,” she huffed.