Page 1 of Unexpected Union

Chapter One

Mitch Wells stood beside his suitcasewatching the resort jeep bounce gently down the sloping road. Oncearound the bend, the sound of the engine faded. The resort had manyamenities, and picking him up at the airport to deliver him to thiscabin on the grounds had been one of them.

Silence enveloped him.

He gazed around.

Trees. A million trees.

The sun shone in a cloudless sky. Throughthe glossy leaves and long needles, he saw the gleam of sunlightreflecting on the lake a short distance away. The sweet scent ofhoneysuckle mingled with the pungent scent of pine wafting on thelate springtime air.

Without warning one of the now-familiardizzy spells struck. He reached out to steady himself with theporch column, inadvertently clunking the heavy cast. That startedhis arm throbbing again.

Biting off an expletive, he waited until thedizziness passed. Nothing like a reality check to remind him why hewas in some backwater resort instead of striding into court for acase or meeting with opposing counsel.

Ignoring the pounding ache in his right arm,he reached for his suitcase and laptop with his left hand andturned to enter the log cabin.

That accident must have addled his brains.What was he doing here sequestered in some hideaway retreat whenBoston was his normal turf?

While appearing rustic, the cottagepurported to provide all the conveniences a guest could wish. Or soThomas had told him.

Mitch wished Thomas and Tessa had neversuggested he take their reservation at the resort. Or that hehadn’t been foolish enough to agree. He could have managed fine athis apartment. He wasn’t going to recuperate any faster in someout-of-the-way resort in the Adirondack Mountains of upstate NewYork.

However long it took to heal was howeverlong it’d take.

Nothing for it now. He was here and wouldmake the most of it—as long as he had cell service and wifi to keepin touch with the office. He’d brought his laptop. He could havehis secretary forward anything he needed to deal with.

If he had to print something, the main lodgeof the resort had a business office he could use. His secretarycould mail anything that wasn’t urgent.

Stepping inside, Mitch noticed without muchcuriosity how spacious the living room was—with its high ceilingand huge stone fireplace. A stack of firewood stood on the hearth.Even though it was May, it got cool in the evenings in themountains. He’d enjoy a fire to take the chill off at night.

Open stairs along one wall led to the secondfloor. Tucked almost under them in the rear was a swingingdoor—probably leading to the kitchen. There was plenty of time toexplore. What else did he have to do for the next three weeks?

Placing his laptop on a small table near thedoor, Mitch carried his suitcase upstairs. There were two doors,both opened, and through each he saw a bed, a dresser and a table.It didn’t matter which bedroom he chose. He turned left.

The room was long with a slopingceiling—elevated in the center yet barely high enough to avoidhitting his head at the side wall. Something to be avoided at allcosts after receiving that concussion.

Unpacking didn’t take long. He glancedaround when he finished, checked his watch, frowning. It wasn’teven noon. What was he supposed to do for the rest of the day?

He’d packed a few best sellers, but didn’tfeel like reading.

With his headaches and the dizziness thathit unexpectedly, he didn’t dare wander far from the cabin.

Great, he was stuck in the back of beyondwith nothing to do and twenty-one long days ahead of him. He’dnever make it without going stark-raving crazy.

A door slammed.

Had he left the front door ajar and the windblown it shut? No, he was certain he’d closed it.

Slowly descending the stairs, he heard anoise from the back of the house. Had the resort personnel broughtfood? He hadn’t even thought about that yet and suddenly realizedthat as isolated as he was, without a car, meals could prove aproblem.

Naturally he could call the front desk atthe main lodge and have them send a jeep. The restaurant there wassupposed to be four stars. He didn’t have to cook if he didn’t wantto. Yet, as often as he ate out, he might like the novelty ofcooking for himself. Once he felt better.

Pushing open the swinging door to thekitchen, Mitch stopped in stunned surprise. A woman casuallydressed in jeans and a long checked shirt leaned against thecounter looking at the stove obviously waiting for the teakettle toboil.

A very familiar woman.

But someone he’d never expected to seetoday.

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