Nobody's Business (Nobody Romances) (3 page)

"You owe me, Dougie," Mom repeated. "I didn't care what
I had to do to get you to the slopes when you were sixteen. Now
you'll use those skills to retake control of the life you so casually want to throw away."

"I'm not throwing anything away," he argued. "I couldn't if
I wanted to. I threw right-handed, remember?"

Three months ago, when Doug had told his editor he'd give
his right arm for an interview with Giles Markham, he'd meant
it as a figure of speech.

Fate, however, took him at his word.

In the kitchen of Snowed Inn Bed-and-Breakfast, Lyn Hill
hung up the telephone with an air of defeat.

"T minus ten minutes until their arrival," she told herself
with a sigh. "Let the madness begin."

Her sister had come to town, with the entire entourage in
tow. Not that she didn't love April and her kids. And April's fiance struck her as a sensible, caring, responsible guy. Unfortunately, ever since that television stunt featuring April and Jeff,
the two had become media darlings.

Her stomach pitched. Even after all these years, the idea of
microphones shoved into her face and the glare of flashbulbs
left her scared stupid.

Outside, wan December sunlight glinted off the freshly fallen
snow coating the windows. Of their own volition, Lyn's toes
flexed inside her shoes, as if digging skis into packed powder.
She hadn't hit the slopes in three days. And the lack of indulging her favorite outlet wreaked havoc with her nerves.

Maybe when the kids got here, if they weren't too tired
from the drive, she could take them over to the mountain for a
few runs before the lifts closed.

Leaving the kitchen in the capable hands of her cook, she
strode into the parlor. A welcome fire crackled in the natural
stone hearth. Cinnamon and cloves, wafting from the hot cider
on the sideboard, infused the air with spicy warmth.

Click, clack, squeeeek! Click, clack, squeeeek!

In the ancient rocking chair near the fireplace, Mrs. Bascomb
sat with her knitting. The long steel needles slipped through the skein of mint green yarn while she rocked. Looking up,
she offered Lyn a serene smile before returning her attention
to today's baby blanket project.

Each October, when frosty air swept into their Vermont town,
the widow next door brought her rainbow of yarns to Snowed
Inn and took her place fireside. Throughout the fall and winter,
Mrs. Bascomb and the other knitting club members created
change purses, layettes for infants, sweaters and ski hats, home
linens, tote bags, and other crafts. During the busier spring and
summer months, they'd sell those handmade goodies at country
fairs and local shops.

"How soon until your sister and her family arrive?" Mrs.
Bascomb asked.

"April just called from the Brown Bear. They'll be here in a
few minutes."

The old lady dropped her needles in her lap and smiled
reassuringly at Lyn over the top of her square eyeglasses.
"Everything's going to be fine, you know."

She offered a grimace as she sank into the matching rocking
chair. "I just hope they were able to dodge the paparazzi."

"Honey, I hate to break it to you, but even if some reporter
followed them up here, no one's going to care about you."

"Gee, thanks a lot."

Mrs. Bascomb's chortles raised hackles on Lyn's nape. "Well,
now, you can't have it both ways, Lyn. You wanted anonymity.
You got it. You haven't been seen publicly in almost ten years.
So at this stage, no one's going to recognize you. Isn't that what
you've tried to gain up here?"

Lyn frowned and palmed the fine hairs dancing on the back
of her neck. Only someone who'd lived under the fame microscope could understand her fears, her distaste for the invasion
of her privacy, the claustrophobic clamor of crowds.

"Lyn?" Mrs. Bascomb's prompt chased away the ghosts.
"That is what you want, isn't it? Anonymity?"

"Of course," she replied, her mind still straddling the past
and present. A lump rose in her throat, and a quick cough placed
her firmly back in the conversation with Mrs. B. "But now, with April and Jeff in the spotlight, the most rabid reporters are
bound to track the lovebirds to my inn. And when they do,
they'll put two and two together."

Confusion puckered Mrs. Bascomb's crumpled brow. "Why
should they? Your sister's kept mum about you. No one's ever
linked her with the once-famous Brooklyn Raine."

Lyn gave her brain a few minutes to process these facts,
facts she'd repeated to herself over and over since the day April
had told her of the family's vacation plans. "True . . ."

"And I hate to tell you this, but I sincerely doubt those rabid
reporters would care any more about you being April's sister
except as an interesting side note. You're beyond yesterday's
news. You're a dinosaur."

"Once again, thanks a lot."

Dark eyes twinkled behind thick lenses. "I mean it as a
compliment, sweetie. You've kept yourself so far below the
radar, the public lost interest in you a long time ago." Leaning
forward, she patted Lyn's hand in a conciliatory gesture. "Besides, if someone dared to ask nosy questions about you, they'd
come up against some mighty high brick walls. The entire
town's watching out for you. Your friends and neighbors will
make sure to outsiders you're only known as Lyn Hill, proprietor of Snowed Inn, a nice little widow lady who prefers to live
like a hermit."

She yanked her hand out of Mrs. Bascomb's reach and tucked
her fingers behind her opposing forearm. "I do not live like a
hermit."

"Mmm-hmm." Mrs. Bascomb sat back, resumed her rock
ing, gaze now fixed on the rough-hewn crossbeams high overhead. "You know, when you first became involved with this
Ski-Hab program, I thought to myself, `Finally. The Mourning Glory's going to start blooming again."'

Lyn arched a brow. "'The Mourning Glory'?"

"Yeah." With a grin, the old lady winked. "You don't know
it, but that's the locals' nickname for you."

Acid burned her tongue, and she allowed the sarcasm to drip
from her lips. "How complimentary."

"It isn't meant to be a compliment." Mrs. Bascomb pulled the glasses off her face and chewed on the tip of one side. "It's
an observation. Ever since Marc died, you've holed up in this
inn like you died too."

"None of you understand," she snapped. "When Marc died,
I lost everything. He wasn't just my husband. He was my best
friend, my rock, my whole world."

Mrs. Bascomb waved her glasses with a dismissive hand.
"Don't invite me to your pity party. I lost my husband too. But
I managed to continue living."

"Your husband was seventy and you'd been married for
forty-five years when you lost him."

"Which makes it even more devastating. You think your
piddly little four-year marriage can compare to a lifetime?"

Beeeeeeeeep! Beep-beep! Beeeeeeeeep!

The sudden eruption of a car horn out front broke the disquiet inside the inn. Relief flooded Lyn's taut skeleton.

"That'll be April and the brood," she announced, forcing a
happy air.

"I think I'll see if there are any cookies in the kitchen," Mrs.
Bascomb said. "Children love cookies." She rose and, leaving
her knitting behind, slipped from the parlor with all the finesse
of a snake oil salesman.

Shaking her head to dislodge their conversation, Lyn turned
toward the inn's front entrance.

Thump! Thump! Thump!

The familiar, rhythmic thud of visitors stomping snow from
their boots echoed in Lyn's pounding heart.

Before she reached the lilac-painted steel door, April flung
it open wide, shaking the cranberry wreath hanging outside
and allowing a burst of icy air into the overheated room.

"We're here!" she shouted as she sped into the parlor, arms
outstretched to engulf Lyn.

Holy happiness, Batman! Lyn had never seen her older sister
look so good. A nuclear glow seemed to surround April from
head to toe. Her eyes glittered with sparks of light, and her
blinding smile illuminated the entire first floor.

"God, Lyn, I'm so happy to see you." She squeezed Lyn
tight enough to crack ribs.

"Well, something's made you happy, that's for sure," Lyn
replied as she broke the boa constrictor embrace. "But I don't
think I can take the credit."

April laughed. "Yeah, it's Jeff, I guess. If I'd have known
seeing a psychologist would turn my life around, I would have
made an appointment years ago."

"It's not the seeing that's made a difference," a rich baritone
said from behind them. "It's the fact the psychologist is crazy
in love with you."

One look told Lyn the truth of Jeff's words. The tall, striking
man standing in the doorway flashed silver eyes glowing with
adoration in her sister's direction. The heat flowing between
these two could set the inn ablaze.

The serpent of jealousy wound around Lyn's heart. How
did April get so danged lucky?

Shame slammed a spiked heel on the snake's head. Lyn
would not begrudge her sister a good, honest, trustworthy man.
After all April's trials, she deserved happiness. And thinking of
trials ...

On either side of Jeff stood April's children, Becky and
Michael. Luggage surrounded the trio like a fortress.

"Gag me," nineteen-year-old Becky exclaimed with a smirk.
"I think I just threw up in my mouth a little."

Jeff's smile only deepened. "Then my work here is done."
He ruffled fourteen-year-old Michael's hair. "What about you,
sport? Your mom and I nauseate you too?"

"Maybe a little." Michael's gap-toothed grin sent a shiver up
Lyn's spine.

She loved her nephew, but sometimes, facing his disability
head-on made her squirm. Michael was a child with Down syndrome. And while April had long ago adjusted to his awkward
facial features and physical limitations, the rest of the family
tended to avoid direct eye contact for fear of hurting the child's
feelings with an involuntary wince or grimace.

"Jeff." April dragged Lyn toward the door. "This is my sister,
Lyn. Lyn, this is Jeff."

Jeff stepped forward and removed his gloves, tucking them under his arm. "Brooklyn." He extended a bare hand. Big,
warm, gentle hold. Familial. "Nice to meet you. I'm a big fan."

With a broad smile, Lyn clasped his fingers. "Same here. And
please call me Lyn. I never use my real name anymore. When I
was a teenager, a name like Brooklyn Raine set me apart on the
racing circuit. Now..." Sighing, she shook her head. "It's embarrassing. So for the record, I'm just plain Lyn Hill."

"Hello, hello, nice to meet you too." Becky's sarcastic tone
cut in from the doorway. "Can we come inside, please?" She
hopped from one foot to the other. "It's freezing out here."

"Whoops! Sorry. That's my fault." Jeff whirled, and after
replacing his gloves, stomped to the door to pick up the largest
of the three suitcases. Gesturing to the fireplace with its crackling flames, he told the kids, "Go warm yourselves up over
there while I drag these inside."

The teenagers thundered into Lyn's parlor, dripping gray
slush and trailing white wires attached to earbuds.

"Guys?" April prompted. "Got anything to say to your Aunt
Lyn?"

"Yeah. What's there to do around here?" Apparently, Becky
missed her mother's veiled hint.

"Guess again," Jeff told her.

When he paired the command with a scathing look, Becky's
face flushed.

"Sorry." She stepped forward and embraced Lyn stiffly.
"Hi, Aunt Lyn. How are you?"

Approval for Jeff rose a hundred degrees in Lyn's mind.
Taking on April's ruffians required a lot of guts, a lot of patience, and a little insanity. To her surprise, Jeff seemed to have
reined in both teens and earned their respect in the process. No
wonder April raved about him the way she did.

Lyn gave her niece a quick squeeze. "I'm fine, Becs." She
released Becky and hugged Michael as well. "I'm glad you guys
came. And if you're up for it, I thought we'd hit the slopes
while your mom and..." She shot a questioning look at April.
How should she address Jeff in front of the kids? She doubted
they'd call him Dad.

"Jeff," he supplied, as if she'd asked the question aloud.

"While your mom and Jeff are getting everything settled,"
she finished. "Your gear is in the locker room, all ready for you."

Michael's slanted eyes widened, and his mouth grew slack
with his excitement as he nodded vigorously. Drool spotted the
corner of his lip, and Lyn stifled the urge to wipe it away.

"Sure," Becky said. "Think there'll be any cute guys out
there today?"

April laughed. "It's a ski resort, Becky. There are cute guys
there every day." She wagged a finger. "Just be careful. Some
of those ski bums can steal your heart if you let them."

Lyn's gaze swerved from the excited teens to the adults. "Is
it okay with you two?"

"Why not?" April replied. "I'm sure we can find some way to
pass the time while you're gone." Another heated look passed
between April and Jeff, a look so passionate, the serpent around
Lyn's heart squeezed her breathless.