A Season in the Highlands - Couverture souple

Chapter One

Tyler Stevens set her coffee cup down on the glass-topped table, then dropped her head back against the wrought-iron chair, closed her eyes, and let the sun warm her skin.

"Playing Aunt Tyler again today?" came a voice she knew well.

"Yes!" Tyler said, smiling, but not opening her eyes.

"And wouldn't you rather saunter downtown to Union Square to pick up some fresh fruit and homemade muffins? Or wander about Central Park on this glorious day?"

"No," she said, then looked across her terrace at Barry. When she'd bought her apartment three years ago, she'd been concerned because her terrace was separated from her neighbor's by only a foot. Like the New Yorker she'd become, she was worried about privacy. But for a year she'd never even once seen the little old man who owned the apartment, and then he moved to Scarsdale to live with his daughter. When the apartment had been purchased by an unmarried man, Tyler had been concerned. Was she going to be fending off the attentions of some guy who wore gold chains? Or would he be a computer nerd and Tyler was his fantasy?

But when she'd seen Barry and saw that he wasn't going to be interested in her, she'd been enthusiastic in her welcome. Barry owned a tiny, exclusive florist shop downtown, and within three months after he'd moved in, his terrace was lush with roses and greenery.

Then, about seven months after he'd moved in, he was sued by a young man who'd worked for him, and, even though it wasn't her field of expertise, Tyler had handled the case. The suit hadn't taken much of her time, and she wanted to be friendly with her neighbor, so when Barry had asked for her bill, Tyler had waved her hand. "Don't worry about it," she'd said.

Two weeks later, she'd returned from a business trip, and when she looked across her living room onto her terrace, she saw that it had been transformed into a beautiful garden of flowers, greenery, and even little trees in pots. Openmouthed, she was standing in the middle of the garden, staring, when Barry had leaned over the railing and said, "Like it?"

That had been the beginning of their friendship. Even though she'd been his lawyer on the case (and had won it), she'd kept her professionalism and they had shared little talk of their personal lives. But after Barry had transformed Tyler's boring terrace into a wonderland, they'd become friends. And after Barry had seen that Tyler didn't know how to take care of a garden, Barry had had a tiny bridge, complete with railings, made. He could slip the bridge into place so he could walk across to Tyler's terrace and weed and water. It wasn't long before the bridge never came down and they were taking care of each other's mail and even phone calls while the other was occupied.

Since, like so many New Yorkers, they were from other parts of the country, in a short time, they each became the only family in the city that the other had.

But that was until six months ago when Tyler's cousin, Kristin Beaumont, had moved to New York. Krissy's father was Tyler's mother's older brother, but, more than that, he was their "savior." Or at least that's what Tyler's mother always called him. When Tyler's father had been killed in an accident when Tyler was six, it was Uncle Thaddeus who'd stepped in and taken over. Tyler's father had been too young to think about such things as life insurance, so he'd left behind a penniless wife and child.

But Uncle Thad had opened his heart and his bank account. He'd paid for everything while his little sister went back to school and got her degree in elementary education. And years later, when young Tyler had shown interest in Uncle Thad's law profession, he'd encouraged her, and when she said she wanted to go to law school, he'd paid for every penny of her education.

So now, Uncle Thad had asked Tyler to "keep an eye on" his daughter when she moved to big, bad New York. Once a week Tyler went to Krissy's apartment for Sunday dinner. Tyler very much enjoyed the time spent with her young cousin. However, there was one teeny, tiny drawback: Krissy was the worst cook on the face of the earth.

"So what's on the menu today?" Barry asked, a watering can in his hand.

"Rocks, for all I know," Tyler said, shaking her head in disbelief. "The girl can take the finest cut of meat in the world and turn it into granite."

"No luck in introducing her to carry-out?"

"None. She says that if she wants to be a wife and mother, then she must learn to cook."

"Still on that, is she?" Barry asked as he stepped up onto the bridge, then walked over and began to inspect Tyler's plants. "No hope in...?"

"If you mean, is there any hope of turning her away from her obsession with her boss? As far as I can tell, there's no hope at all!" Tyler picked up her coffee cup again, saw that it was empty, then put it down. Uncle Thad had used his influence to obtain a high-level position for his beloved daughter as the personal assistant of Joel Kingsley, the founder and owner of the chain of DIY stores called Home Stores. Almost immediately after starting work, Krissy had decided that she was madly, passionately, and insanely in love with her charismatic boss. Never mind that Joel Kingsley was in his forties and Krissy was just twenty-three. And never mind that as far as Tyler could find out, Joel Kingsley didn't seem to think of Krissy as anything except an employee; Krissy still believed she was in love with him.

And as a result, Joel Kingsley was all that Krissy talked about. All. That's it. There had been three dinners in which not a word was uttered about anything other than Joel Kingsley.

Tyler had now spent twenty-four Sunday dinners with her cousin, and while trying to eat Krissy's inedible food, she'd had to hear everything there was to hear about Joel Kingsley.

For the first three visits, Tyler had tried to reason with her young cousin. She'd smiled indulgently. Krissy's gushing about her new job and, especially, about her new boss had made Tyler feel much, much older than her thirty-five years. "I'm sure that Mr. Kingsley" -- she used the Mr. to emphasize the age difference -- "is dashing compared to someone from back home, but -- "

"Oh, Tyler," Krissy had gushed, "you've never seen him. He's so...so wonderful. He walks like...I mean, he...And he...Oh, you just have to see him to understand."

Tyler gave a weak smile. In her field of domestic relations -- a "divorce lawyer," as she was more commonly called -- she'd seen lots of men who walked like...And were so...But she'd also seen the way these dynamic men tried to leave the women with nothing after the divorce.

"And how many times has he been married?" Tyler asked quietly as she used the serrated knife to saw at the meat that Krissy had served her.

"Once, but that's all," Krissy said quickly. "Except for one other time."

"Does that mean that he's been married twice?" She was still trying to cut the meat but was having no luck.

"If you want to get technical, it does," Krissy said defensively, "but I'm not sure that first marriages count."

"They all count in a courtroom." Tyler's index finger was bending back painfully so she gripped the knife handle in her fist.

"You're too much like Daddy. You're too cynical. Would you like a spoon for that?"

"Spoon?" Tyler said, looking up, not understanding.

"For your macaroni and cheese," Krissy said as though Tyler were stupid.

Tyler looked down at the slab of black on her plate. "This is -- ?" she started, then stopped herself. She put down her knife and fork. "Krissy, honey, I know that New York must be exhilarating to you, and I'm sure that a self-made man like Joel Kingsley must be wildly exciting, but -- "

"He's not exciting," Krissy said. "He works too hard to have time for anything except business. He never takes time off, and he does everything, oversees everything. If you saw him in the office...There isn't anything anywhere that is too small for him to notice."

Control freak, Tyler thought but didn't say. She couldn't help but look down at her plate. Macaroni and cheese? she thought, trying her best to see if she could make out the curve of the pasta. How did one get cheese to harden like that? She'd heard of blackened fish, but blackened cheese?

She looked back at Krissy. "There are a couple of young men in our office who I'd like you to meet."

At that Krissy angrily stood up, removed their plates, and disappeared into the kitchen. Her father had purchased his "baby" daughter an apartment. That the apartment cost more than Tyler's and that it had been professionally decorated, while Tyler's furniture had mostly come from auctions and estate sales, did rankle a bit. "Makes you, as Scarlett said, 'Pea green with envy,'" Barry had said when Tyler first described the place. "Of course if you didn't do so much pro bono work, you could afford an apartment like that," Barry had added fondly.

After that first Sunday luncheon, Tyler had done some research on Joel Kingsley. Unexpectedly, she'd found out that he seemed a nice enough guy. The truth was, that Tyler had expected to be told that he preyed on young and innocent girls. But, as Krissy had said, Joel Kingsley had been married when he was in college, but the marriage had broken apart just a year later. He'd remarried two years after he'd graduated and that liaison had lasted for fifteen years.

Tyler had called someone who had given her the number of someone else, so she'd gradually found a person who knew a little bit more about Joel Kingsley than was written in Forbes magazine. According to her informant, after fifteen years of being a "business widow," Joel Kingsley's second wife had divorced him and run off with her personal trainer. "Kingsley was generous in the settlement," Tyler had been told. "But Celeste Delashaw has her hands on him now."

"And who is Celeste Delashaw?" Tyler had asked.

"You aren't in the museum set, are you?"

"If you're asking me if I spend my free time going to thousand-dollar-a-plate benefits, no, I don't," Tyler had said more snappishly than she'd meant to.

"Neither do I, but I read about them," her informant had snapped back.

Tyler didn't reply to that. She hadn't much time to spare for reading about "society." And, besides, too many of her cases dealt with women who'd put men through school, while raising their children almost single-handedly. Finally, when the kids were out of the house and the man was a success, the wife was ready to enjoy what she'd worked for, but too often, the man then dumped her for a younger woman. Tyler had seen too many of these fifty-something women who were facing bleak futures alone.

"Celeste Delashaw is the former wife of Maximilian Aldrich. You have heard of him, haven't you?"

Tyler had looked at her watch. She was due in court in fifteen minutes. Thank heaven she was on her cell phone; she picked up her pace. "Sure. Steel."

"As in cars, boats, and planes."

"All I want to know is the character of this man, Joel Kingsley. My young cousin works for him and she has a serious crush on him. Is he likely to take advantage of her?"

There was a pause on the other end of the phone. "I haven't heard those terms since I left Iowa. 'Crush.' 'Take advantage of her.' Are you asking that if she looks at him in invitation, is he likely to tell her that he loves her just so he can screw her on top of the copy machine?"

"More or less," Tyler said, her lips tight at such a thought about her beloved cousin.

"Not as long as Celeste Delashaw is after him, he won't."

"What about him?!" Tyler said in exasperation. "Not her. Him!"

"Keep your shirt on. I haven't heard anything like that about him. His wife left him because she never saw him, not because he was making the secretaries. However, he is a man. What's your cousin look like?"

Tyler didn't want to answer that. "Thanks," she said. "I owe you one"; then she pushed the "end" button on the phone and cut off the connection.

But, honestly, after that conversation Tyler wasn't much better off than she had been before. Joel Kingsley might be a good guy, but he was rich and powerful and he was probably surrounded with girls like Krissy who adored him. He wasn't married, but he was dating a rich woman who seemed to be protective of her "property."

"So why don't you take some food with you when you go?" Barry was saying now.

"I tried that. She puts it in the refrigerator and serves what she's cooked. Barry, what am I going to do about this? Uncle Thad expects me to oversee my cousin, but she's developed this infatuation with a man nearly twice her age. Krissy has always been so sheltered. She has no idea what can happen to her in this world."

"And you do?" Barry asked cynically. "It seems to me that you two are at opposite ends of the world. Your little cousin thinks that men can do no wrong, while you spend your days dealing with men whose only concern is how much wrong they can do."

"You aren't going to start on my love life again, are you?" she said, picking up her coffee cup, then standing. She was still wearing her heavy terry-cloth bathrobe.

"Can't start on something that doesn't exist, can I?" Barry called after her as she went inside the apartment.

Once inside her apartment, Tyler looked at the clock. There wasn't time to have another cup of coffee and to continue exchanging gibes with Barry. She had to get dressed to go to her cousin's for Sunday dinner.

Forty-five minutes later, Tyler was standing outside Krissy's apartment door and ringing the bell. The doorman had let her up, but now Krissy wasn't answering. Like the overprotective aunt Barry accused her of being, Tyler was instantly worried. Digging into her handbag, she removed the key to Krissy's apartment that she kept there for "emergencies."

Once inside, Tyler saw that there were no lights on in the apartment and there was no smell of burned food coming from the kitchen. In fact, when Tyler went into the kitchen, it was clean and neat, with no signs of food preparation. But the perfectly clean kitchen only added to Tyler's fears, for Krissy was a very conscientious young woman. If she invited someone to dinner, she'd not forget.

When Tyler heard a sound like a kitten mewling coming from the bedroom, she began to run down the hall, her heels clicking on Krissy's inlaid hardwood floors.

When Tyler pushed open Krissy's bedroom door, she gasped, for there was Krissy lying in bed, her face pink with what looked like fever. Around her were three boxes of tissues, with a pile of used tissues on the floor. On the bedside table were four brown plastic bottles of pills, a thermometer, and two bottles of water.

When Krissy looked up at Tyler, she said, "I'm sick," in a congested voice.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Tyler said, annoyed but relieved to have found her cousin at last, as she felt Krissy's forehead. It was warm but not burning. "Why didn't you call me earlier? I would have come over and taken care of you."

"I know how busy you are, so I called Daddy and he sent a doctor to me."

Tyler looked at Krissy in disbelief. "You called Uncle Thad and he flew a doctor to New York?"

"No," Krissy said, weakly lifting her hand. "He got a doctor in New York to come to my apartment. The man was ever so nice, but he said that I have the flu and that I must stay in bed, so I can't go."

Tyler was still recovering from the shock of hearing that her Uncle Thad could get a New York doctor to make a house call. "Of course you ca...

A Season in the Highlands contains five romance stories from Jude Deveraux, Jill Barnett, Geralyn Dawson, Patricia Cabot, and Pam Binder. With some of the best romance writers represented, these tales blessed with the misty magic and timeless passion of fair Scotland are sure to please.

Love that grows among the heather is enchanted indeed...blessed with the misty magic and timeless passion of fair Scotland!

New York Times bestselling author Jude Deveraux unravels a ghostly murder mystery in an ancient Scottish castle.

Nationally bestselling author Jill Barnett decrees all is fair in love—when a rollicking Highland clan war leads an impetuous lass to kidnap the wrong man!

Geralyn Dawson puts a rough-hewn Texas cowboy under the spell of a charming herbalist with some curious powers of attraction.

Patricia Cabot leads a beautiful runaway to her kindred spirit—a Scottish lord who sweeps her away to the rugged shores of the Isle of Skye.

Pam Binder flings a pretty Edinburgh baker and a computer-games designer into an adventure of passion and intrigue—inside the sixteenth-century palace of Mary, Queen of Scots.