Page 8 of Hot to the Touch

“I broke my ankle in a tussle with a few extremist fans of Emily Young. It’s been about four weeks, so it’s healing nicely. Thank you for asking.” She left out the information about the torture, bullet wound, and the other bruises, burns, and breaks. She discreetly tucked her hand beneath the table to avoid explaining the crooked fingers. “I think I’ve exhausted all my questions, and I certainly like what I’ve seen and heard. Do you have any further questions for me?”

He’d asked plenty of questions during the conversation, so she didn’t expect more. She was unsurprised when he shook his head.

“Wonderful. Well, I’ll have Jessie see you out, and you’ll be hearing from me within two business days. I really enjoyed the meeting,” she told him.

He stood and offered her a hand to shake. As he turned to walk out of the room, Chelsea held her breath. She’d have been flattered to be hit on previously, but with her mind running a million miles an hour around the thought of Redmond, the idea of another man didn’t sit well with her.

Especially a client. She had a strict, no-client policy when it came to sex or dating.

With each step he walked toward the door, Chelsea’s shoulders loosened. He only had three steps to go when he turned back toward her, and she sighed loudly.

“Would you be interested in going out sometime? Maybe—”

“No,” she said tersely, cutting him off. “I’ll be in contact.”

Why couldn’t he have left the meeting room with his dignity intact? She’d have faxed him the contract and ignored all future flirtation. Chelsea had clients who had been shameless flirts in the past, and it never seemed to bother her so long as the other aspects of the client were intact, and none of the others had ever been as attractive as Callum Forester.

But there was a difference this time.

She couldn’t get the silent, brutally honest, and handsome Redmond Donovan to leave her mind.

6

He watched as the running back for his team took the ball and ran, passing the other team with a stealth and speed that Redmond admired. He leaned away from the back cushion and rested his elbows on his knees, his back tensing as excitement coursed through him at the thought of the touchdown. The running back surpassed the defense, and the field before him sat wide open as he ran, and ran, and…

“Touchdown,” Kaitlyn screamed, jumping up from the couch and running toward the TV with an excitement he’d have never expected from a daughter. “This game’s wicked.”

Redmond laughed, leaning back on the couch as the excitement of the moment faded and the players did their happy dances around the teammate. “Wicked, huh?”

She nodded excitedly and pointed at the television with a ‘duh’ look. Redmond chuckled and patted the seat she’d left behind in her excitement. The next play was starting as she walked back toward him and hopped on the couch.

Kaitlyn’s long brown hair resembled his more than Courtney’s, and her dark blue eyes labeled her as his daughter even more firmly. With his and Courtney’s features combined in the young girl, they’d created a masterpiece of a child. Her small nose, long lashes, and precious antics would make her one hell of a heartbreaker one day, and Redmond was not prepared for the day she brought the first boy home.

She tucked herself beneath his right arm, eyes drilling into the TV in front of them. He noticed the way her eyes constantly drifted to her growing jungle along the wall of the room, likely mentally noting what she needed to do with each plant. She always left him detailed, crayon-written to-do lists for when she stayed with her mother, but when she came home, she did ten times the work she asked him to do. Who knew plants were so difficult and time-consuming?

As their team made a field goal and Kaitlyn clapped her hands in the same way that he usually did, his phone started its melodic ringtone. He didn’t want to miss out on the game, so he looked at the caller ID with every intention of ignoring the call. He didn’t recognize the number, but it had a Boston area code, so he pulled the phone to his ear and cleared his throat. He could make it quick. Hopefully before the next play.

“Hello?”

“Mr. Donovan?”

Something about the voice sent his heart pounding, but he couldn’t understand why. The voice was unrecognizable to his ears, but his innate reaction to the voice was overwhelming.

“Yeah. Who’s this?”

“Mr. Donovan, I’ve been thinking about making this call for months. Years, really. First, I wanted to apologize for what I did to you. I never meant to… kill her.”

Redmond’s heart skipped an entire beat as he realized who he spoke to. He needed a definite confirmation. “Who is this?”

“Don’t hang up on me, Donovan. We need to talk. It’s Dale Hartfield.”

The room around him spun around him. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t have hung up the phone. He couldn’t move. Speak. He never thought he’d hear from the man again.

“I was sincere in court. I never meant to pull the trigger. Nobody was supposed to die, and I’m still doing penance with that. But you fucking ruined my life outside of prison. Youruinedit. I deserved prison for what I did. I deserve to rot in hell. But my family? You motherfucker. You didn’t need to bring them into this. They have restraining orders. I can’t even see my son because of you. They would have forgiven me.”

Redmond hadn’t done anything to his family aside from accepting their apologies when they tried to visit him. He’d never blamed them for what Dale had done to Claire. They’d offered to pay for her burial, which Redmond hadn’t even considered accepting. Dale had a wonderful family, and Redmond knew that they’d never go back to him. Not after what he did.

“Did you fuck my wife to get back at me? Is that what you did? What I did was an accident, but do you feel no shame? No guilt for ruining everything in my life. I’m stuck on the streets. No money. No family. No home. All because you fucked Amy and convinced her to leave me. She didn’t even fucking visit me because of your lies.”

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