Discovering Dani
by N.J. Walters
Copyright © 2017 by N.J. Walters. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.
Chapter One
“Don’t just stand there, man, push!”
Dani O’Rourke flinched inwardly even as she stepped up to the beige Mercedes and placed her mitten-covered hands next to a large pair of leather-gloved hands on the cold, hard bumper. She shoved as hard as she could, while the car’s wheels spun crazily in the slush.
“Harder!” the male voice growled.
Bracing her booted feet as best she could on the snow-covered ice, Dani pushed with all her might.
“Again!” the voice demanded. Once more, she threw her weight against the back of the car as it started to rock back and forth.
“Put some muscle into it,” the male voice ordered.
One more shove sent the car spinning from the icy patch and a shower of cold snow spraying into her face. Dani sputtered and swiped at her face with her black wool mitten as she straightened up and watched the man who had issued the terse commands walk slowly toward the front of the car without a backward glance.
“Thank you ever so much,” a girlish voice gushed from the driver’s seat. “I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t stopped to help.”
Sighing, Dani turned away and trudged down the road, unnoticed by either. She knew the car’s owner, or more specifically, she knew about the car’s owner. Everyone in Jamesville was familiar with Cynthia James and the James family. Her family’s ancestors had settled the town a hundred years before and were still heavily involved in real estate and banking. Cynthia was beautiful and she knew it. She had the long blonde hair, blue-eyed, California girl appearance that men seemed to find irresistible. All she had to do was bat her eyelashes and smile, and men fell all over themselves to please her.
Dani pictured the stranger in her mind’s eye, wondering who he was. Born and raised in Jamesville, she knew everyone, if not personally, then by sight. She suspected he was probably visiting friends or just passing through.
What does it matter to you? She scolded herself impatiently. A man like that would never notice a woman like her. Her hair was a plain medium brown that was usually worn in a no-nonsense braid that fell to her waist, and she’d never had the money or the inclination to wear makeup. Her few attempts at mascara and eyeliner had left her feeling more like a raccoon than a model. Somehow, she never felt quite right if she was wearing anything more than lip-gloss.
She could still picture his coal black hair, damp and shining from the falling snow. Eyes almost as black as his hair, snapping with impatience, as he’d issued his commands. An aura of power and arrogance had surrounded him as he’d barked his orders with no doubt that they would be followed.
Of course, she reasoned, he had the size to back it up. He was built like a mountain, tall and broad, with a face that looked as if it were carved from stone. A long jagged scar had bisected his left cheek. Dani thought it gave him the dangerous air of a pirate or a highwayman. Just like the unsuspecting hero in a romance novel, she mused.
“Stop it, Dani O’Rourke,” she muttered as she reached her truck and dug into her pocket for her keys. “He thought you were a man, for heaven’s sake.” But she could understand why. At five-foot-eight, she was a tall woman and solidly built. Not overweight, but sturdy. Wearing her brother’s hand-me-down parka that zipped around her face and covered her to her knees, well, it was no wonder he had mistaken her for a male. She consoled herself even as she wondered why the thought made her head hurt.
She had wasted enough time, lusting for things she could not have. There was work to do. It was the same lecture she had been scolding herself with for the past seven years, ever since her mother died and she became sole guardian of her brothers. If it sounded a little flat, well, that was just too bad, she told herself as she unlocked the door to her truck and prepared herself to face the rest of the day.
Burke glanced at the blonde-haired, blue-eyed beauty who smiled at him from the driver’s seat of the luxury sedan. She flipped her hair back with a practiced motion and batted her eyelashes at him, sizing him up, as she offered her thanks yet again. Her good looks left him unmoved as the calculating look in her eyes, speculating his worth, was all too familiar.
“Thank you ever so much. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t stopped to help. My name is Cynthia James. Are you new in town?”
Burke ignored her question and countered with one of his own. “What about the other guy? Aren’t you going to thank him too?”
Cynthia’s perfect smile grew wider and then she started to laugh. “That’s really funny. You thought that was a guy helping you? Wait until I tell my friends. They’ll love a good laugh.”
Burke scowled, and she quickly lost her smile under his glare. “What do you mean?”
“That was Dani O’Rourke. Miss Dani O’Rourke. Don’t worry about it though, I mean, it was only Dani. What did you say your name was?”
“My name is Black, Miss James. Have a nice day.” He turned and limped away from the car and back to his four-wheel drive truck. His truck was new, but the trip here had covered it in road salt and dust, giving it well-earned character. He heard her call out to him, but didn’t look back as he climbed into the cab.
As Burke settled himself into the driver’s seat his left leg started to throb. Lost in thought, he absently rubbed it with his left hand as he turned the key in the ignition with his right. Even though it had been almost five months since the accident, he still was surprised when his body ached some days. He guessed the fourteen-hour days that he’d put in at the office since his release from hospital hadn’t helped, but they had been necessary for his plans.
He glanced in the rearview mirror and the coal black eyes that stared back at him were as cold as the smile that he bestowed upon himself. He knew the scar that now bisected his left cheek from temple to chin, along with his dark as night hair, gave him a slightly demonic appearance. All in all, that knowledge pleased him. It suited his mood. Black.
His thoughts drifted back to those long weeks he’d spent lying in a hospital bed, after a drunk driver who’d sped through an intersection had hit his car. Other than the obligatory visits of business associates and doctors, he had spent it alone. He’d had too much time to think, and the conclusions he reached had left him in a dark temper.
Being confined to a wheelchair, even for a few weeks, had made him feel weak and helpless. His broken left leg, encased in a plaster cast from hip to thigh, had made him feel useless. He was unable to do for himself for the first time in his life, and he didn’t like the feeling.
And oddly enough, he had felt lonely. That, too, had made him angry. He’d never relied on anyone in his life. He’d learned at a young age that to do so was a mistake. People looked out for themselves, and so did he. Still, there had been no one in his life, except for paid help, who would have been upset if he’d been killed in that accident. That felt wrong somehow. And that realization had changed him.
A genuine smile lit his lips as he remembered the conversation he had had with his second-in-command on his first day back at work. At first his Vice President, Jim Thomas, had refused to believe him when he had announced he was selling everything.
“Are you crazy, Burke?” Jim had had a stunned look on his face as he sank slowly into the padded leather seat behind him, as if his legs could not bear the shock of the announcement.
“No, Jim, I’m not. I’m thirty-five years old and I have more money than I could spend in my lifetime. Besides, I’m only selling off the company’s business interests. I’ll still have my own personal investments to keep me occupied.”
“What in the name of God are you going to do with yourself? You’ll be bored to death within a week. Think this through, Burke. Don’t make any rash decisions that you’ll regret later.”
“Don’t worry, Jim. I’ll make sure you’re taken care of.” Burke was smart enough to realize Jim’s concern was for his own position and not for his boss’s health. After all, the only time Jim had shown up at the hospital was when business decisions needed to be made or when papers needed to be signed.
With the speed and ruthlessness that had made him a multimillionaire to begin with, he had sold everything. His business concerns, his large lavish home with the expensive furniture where he slept but didn’t really live, and the foreign sports car that he drove back and forth to work. He relinquished all the trappings that had been associated with his old life, one by one. Gone were the designer suits, starched white shirts and silk ties, and in their place came blue jeans and cotton shirts.
Taking a deep breath, Burke looked away from the mirror and pulled his thoughts back to the present. Putting the truck in gear, he pulled away from the curb where it had been parked. He had forgotten how much he liked wearing jeans and driving a truck. These days he had no one to answer to but himself and that’s what had brought him to the small community of Jamesville. A business associate had casually mentioned it as a good place to do some fishing. He might not be interested in the fishing, but it had exactly what he needed right now. Peace and quiet, and anonymity.
He was responsible for no one but himself, and no one wanted anything from him. God knows he had earned it. He’d been taking care of himself for as far back as he could remember. His mother, when she’d been sober, hated having a child to look after and had let him know at every moment how much he had ruined her life. He’d scrounged meals where he could get them and clothes from the local church charity. Anger and humiliation drove him to better himself. He’d studied hard and stayed out of her way. One sunny spring day, he came home to find their apartment empty. He’d found some of his belongings in the Dumpster out back.
At fifteen, he’d dropped out of school, lied about his age, and started in construction. He’d worked physically hard in the days and mentally hard at night. Eventually, he’d gotten his high school diploma at night school. Then he’d started taking business classes.
He invested in his first run-down building when he was twenty and got lucky when real estate values had soared in that section of Chicago five years later. By that time, he’d owned several buildings and had sold them for a huge profit and reinvested in more property. He had a knack for knowing which property would increase in value, as well as the patience to wait. But after twenty years of non-stop work, he was filthy rich and very tired.
He pulled into the parking lot of the small grocery store he had passed the night before and parked the truck. “Greer’s Grocery and Gas Bar” was printed with black letters on a white sign attached to the front of the building. He’d pick up a few things now and then head back to the cabin he had rented for the next few months and unpack his things. He was suddenly anxious to get settled in. Then he had to find a woman named Dani O’Rourke and apologize for this morning’s slight misunderstanding.
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