Old loyalties was not a good enough reason.
It has been ten years since Hunter had died. Ten years since Nathan had even thought of those days, of the friend he'd lost too young. Of the five others who had been such a huge part of his life. He'd moved on. Built his world just the way he wanted it and didn't give a damn what anyone else had to say about it. That pledge the Samurai had made to one another? It seemed to come from another lifetime.
He thought briefly of the framed photos of the Seven Samurai, as they'd called themselves back then, hanging here in the upstairs hall. Every time he passed them, he deliberately looked away. Studying the past was for archaeologists. Not barristers. He didn't owe Hunter or any of the others anything. College friendships were routinely left behind as life continued on. So why in hell was he here?
A bird skimmed the water's surface, its wings stretched wide, its shadow moving on the lake as if it had a life of its own. “And even the damn bird is freer than I am.”
Pushing away from the rail, he turned his back on the expansive view of nature's beauty and walked back into what he was already considering his cell.
He glanced at the television, then rejected the idea of turning it on. There were plenty of books to read, and even a state-of-the-art office loft upstairs but he couldn't imagine sitting still long enough to truly accomplish anything, at the moment, all he could do was prowl. He could take a walk, but he might just keep on walking, right down the mountain to the airport where his private Gulfstream waited for him.
“I'm never gonna make the whole damn month,” he muttered, shoving one hand through his hair and turning toward the table where his laptop sat open.
He took a seat, hit a few keys and checked his e-mail as soon as the Internet connection came through. Two new letters were there, one each from the managers of the London and Tokyo Barrister hotels.
Once he'd dealt with their questions about his schedule, Nathan was at a loss again. There was only so much work he could do long-distance. After all, if he wasn't there in person, he couldn't scowl at his employees.
When the doorbell rang, he jumped to his feet. This is what he'd come to, then. Grateful for an interruption. For someone—anyone—to interrupt the silence that continued to claw at him. He closed the laptop and stalked across the great room to the front door.
When he opened the door, he said, “I should have guessed it would be you.”
Keira grinned, slipped past him into the house and then turned to look at him. “You're going to need a coat.”
Nathan closed the door and didn't admit even to himself that he was glad to see her. As annoying as she was, she was, at least, another voice in this damned quiet.
“I'm warm enough, thanks.”
“No, I mean, the potluck is outside so you'll really need a coat.” She turned again and walked into the great room as if she belonged there. Her voice echoed in the high-ceilinged room and her footsteps sounded like a heartbeat. “We could have held the dinner at the courthouse, but it's a little cramped and the band said it would be easier to set up outside.”
“The band?”
“Uh-huh,” she said, looking around as if she hadn't just seen the place the day before, “it's a local group. Super Leo. They play mostly rock but they'll take requests, too, and they're good guys. They all grew up here.”
“Fascinating,” Nathan said, moving to the edge of the foyer, leaning one shoulder against the wall and crossing one foot over the other as he watched her move. Damn, the woman looked good.
It was the solitude getting to him. The only explanation why he was interested in a short, mouthy redhead when ordinarily, he never would have looked at her twice. The fact that he'd only been “enjoying” this solitude for a day didn't really matter.
“The town council approved new lights for this year, so the square will be bright as day with plenty of room for dancing. When I left they were already setting the food out on the tables and the band was tuning up, so we really should get going if you don't want to miss anything.”
“Miss anything?” Nathan shook his head. “I told you yesterday that I had no interest in going to your town party or whatever.”
“Well, I didn't think you meant it.”
“Why not?”
“Who wouldn't want to go to a party?”
“Me.” Now, if the party were in St. Tropez, or Gstaad, he'd be right there. But a small-town party in the middle of Nowhere, U.S.A.? No, thanks.
She stared at him as if he'd just grown another head. Then she shrugged and went on as if he hadn't said a word.
“The town council was incredibly grateful for your donation.”
“You told them?” An uncomfortable itch settled between his shoulder blades. He didn't mind donating money. It was simply a part of who he was. But he preferred anonymity. He didn't want gratitude. He just wanted to be left alone.
But even as he thought this, he realized that he'd been complaining about the solitude just a minute before.
“Of course I told them,” she said, picking up a throw pillow from the couch and fluffing it before she dropped it back into place. “Who am I, Santa? Dropping money into the town coffers without an explanation? I don't think so. They all want to meet you, to thank you for your generosity.”
“Not necessary.”
“Oh, but it really is,” she said and reached down to straighten a stack of magazines strewn across the coffee table. “If you don't come to the potluck so everyone can meet you …”
“Yeah?”
She shrugged. “Then I guess everyone will just have to come to you.”
Nathan sighed. She was blackmailing him into attending her damned town function. And doing a pretty good job of it, too. If he didn't go, he had no doubt that she'd lead droves of citizens up the mountain to intrude on the lodge. He'd be hip-deep in people before he knew it.
“Extortion?”
“Let's call it judicial negotiations.”
“And if I go to the party, you'll leave me alone.”
She held up one hand like a Girl Scout salute and said, “I so solemnly swear.”
“I don't believe you.”
“Gee, attractive, crabby and smart.”
A smile twitched at his mouth, but he fought it into submission. No point in encouraging her any.
“Fine. I'll go.”
“Wow,” she said, patting her hand over her heart, “I'm all excited.”
Her green eyes were shining and a smile curved her tantalizing mouth. The gray sweater she wore beneath a black leather jacket outlined the swell of her breasts, and her faded jeans and battered boots made her look too tempting to a man who was going to be trapped on a damn mountaintop for a month.
So Nathan got a grip on his hormonal overdrive and turned to the hall closet. He opened it, snatched out his brown leather jacket and pulled it on over his dark green cashmere sweater.
A few minutes ago, he'd been complaining that he was too alone. Now, he was going to a block party, of all things.
Be careful what you wish for.
Keira sneaked glances at him as she drove down the mountain. His profile was enough to make her heart stutter and when he turned his head to look at her, she almost drove into a tree.
“Whoops.” She over-straightened and her snow tires slipped a little on an icy patch of road.
“Was this a ploy to get me on the road long enough to kill me?”
“Everything's