His Golden Heart (13 page)

“Where have you been, under a rock? Oops, sorry, man. You dad’s about to make sure he gets put away for breaking and entering, and beating some woman up.”

Mohammed proceeded to fill him in. Beau listened intently. He felt duped. Why hadn’t Shayna said something? She must have known the prosecutor was his dad. Mohammed told him the crime made all of the major newspapers. Of course, Beau had been too busy wallowing in self-pity to notice. According to Mohammed, the teenager had a history of minor scrapes with the law but no arrests.

Why would Shayna deliberately bring Reggie here in search of a job? What would she get out of deliberately deceiving him? A part of Beau wanted to believe that she hadn’t made the connection. That she didn’t know who his father was. That her sole mission was to keep Reggie busy and off the streets. Wasn’t that one of the reasons he’d created Hill Of Dreams? It was supposed to be a place where indigents and troubled souls found solace. Now he was thinking of turning one away. It wasn’t as if he didn’t have staff members with less than perfect records. He prided himself in giving the underdog a chance, in trusting those others considered untrustworthy. He’d vowed on his biological parents’ grave to help those who needed help.

“Beau, I have to tell you I’m impressed,” Shayna spoke quickly in her excitement. “This is a wonderful concept. You’ve got every ethnic group represented under one roof. I’ve heard the most delightful stories of how this center saves lives. I’ve heard the most wonderful stories about you.”

Beau grunted, hoping his stretched lips could be interpreted as a real smile. He was rapidly processing information. Shayna had an agenda. What was it?

“Let’s tell Shayna about our scholarship program,” Mohammed interjected, coming to his rescue. “We’ll discuss it over lunch. Hey, Reggie, are you hungry?”

“Yup.” The teenager shuffled to his feet and slowly made his way over to them, rubbing his stomach. “Hope that woman can cook.”

“Reggie!” Shayna admonished, chastising him with an eye roll. “Isn’t the center wonderful? You checked out those awesome basketball courts and that running track that goes for miles? There’s even a meditation room.”

“Cool,” Reggie said with little enthusiasm.

Mohammed led them to the dining room. Beau made a mental note to call his dad and find out all about Reggie’s case. Armed with information, he could figure out if he was being used.

Mohammed handed the teenager a pen and paper. “We’ll need a recommendation from a teacher,” he said, draping an arm around the still sulking Reggie. “We’ll also need a phone number where we can reach you. Here, write them down.”

As Reggie scribbled, Shayna leaned over and kissed Beau’s cheek. “Thank you, Beau,” she said. “I owe you big time.”

“It’s more like the other way around,” he responded. “I owe you for helping me get back my life.”

In so many ways he had made his life worthwhile again.

Chapter Eleven

“Damn it, Shayna, I don’t have time for this. Why did you go shooting off your big, fat mouth, telling that man I would volunteer at his home for losers?”

Shayna snapped the dated copy of the magazine she’d been reading shut. “Don’t give me lip, boy. You should be counting your lucky stars you’re not arrested. You need every edge you can get. Volunteering at Hill Of Dreams just might provide you that.”

Reggie pouted. “What’s volunteering at your boyfriend’s place going to do for me?”

“Beau’s not my boyfriend.”

“Could have fooled me. You get all nervous and jittery when the cripple’s around. You start fluffing your little bit of hair and fooling with your jewelry. You’ve got a thing for the man. It wouldn’t be so bad if he was still somebody. I could brag that my brother-in-law was a big time skier. “

“Shut up, Reggie. If you must know, Colin suggested it wouldn’t hurt to keep your image squeaky clean right now. Volunteering at a place like Hill Of Dreams couldn’t hurt.”

“Why couldn’t we have picked some other place to volunteer? Why does Beau Hill have to own the place? I get to work with all those stinky, homeless people that can’t find their way in life. I’ll be their baby-sitter, while you’re doing Beau. You talk about the guy all the time. Even now you’re reading some stupid article about his accident. He had a lousy downhill run and he’s washed up, a has-been. He’s not even particularly nice to you. All he does is sit in that chair looking like he’s carrying the weight of the world around, and talk to his manager.”

Why couldn’t she have picked some other place indeed? She could have, but what she’d said to Beau and Mohammed a few days ago was true. It was hard to find a black-owned organization like this one in Denver. One that was clearly not for profit, that truly wanted to help the underprivileged succeed. If she were really honest she would admit that she did indeed have an ulterior motive. She’d hoped that word would somehow leak out to the public that Reggie was working there and that Edward Hill was bent on prosecuting a volunteer at his son’s place. That kind of news was bound to generate negative PR for the prosecution. There would be overwhelming sympathy from the public, which would work in Reggie’s favor. Her brother would not be painted as all bad if he was shown as volunteering at a place where underdogs and misfits found a haven. This wasn’t using Beau. She was doing what any concerned sister would do for a brother she loved more than anything in the whole wide world.

When Shayna looked up, Reggie had already flounced off to his room. She returned to the article she’d been reading, frowning as it ended. The more she read about Beau and his accident, the more certain she was that it wasn’t an accident. Why hadn’t someone investigated it? Why hadn’t the competitors been spoken to? Beau had been the favorite, the contestant slated to win gold. Sure he was coming up against other good skiers, great ones actually, but based on his record alone, this should have been a pretty easy race.

Lars, the German skier, had won the World Cup and Goodwill Games previously, but that was only according to the article, because Beau was recovering from a bad sprain and broken collarbone during that time. The Swiss skier, Jan, had been bragging all along that the medal was his. Nothing and no one would stop him from winning. Even Beau’s American teammate had had several scuffles off the snow with anyone who even doubted his ability to place. Ironically, Joshua Vanderhorn, the American, had placed second, the German first, and the Swiss third. Shayna made a mental note to talk to Beau and find out if he had at any point left his equipment unattended.

She snapped the magazine shut and headed off to make dinner. In the midst of seasoning chicken, the phone rang.

“I’ll get it,” Reggie shouted from upstairs.

“Fine.”

It was probably just another of Reggie’s noisy crowd. She had no real friends in Denver. She hadn’t had the time. Most of her acquaintances were people she’d met at the rehabilitation center, women like Maryjane Coppola, whom she still hadn’t taken up on her invitation to go out and have drinks. She would have to remedy that soon.

“It’s for you,” Reggie called after several seconds had elapsed.

“I’ll get it in a minute,” Shayna said, carefully washing her hands and drying them on a towel before picking up the extension. “Hi, this is Shayna.”

“How are you?” Colin Johnson asked.

She hadn’t been expecting him. The last time they’d spoken was the night of their date when he’d driven her home, settled for a chaste kiss on the cheek, and then seen her inside. He’d seemed to be okay about being friends. This call must be about Reggie, she decided.

“Great but busy. Very busy,” Shayna carefully answered. “What’s new? Did we get another lead?”

“Yes, we have.” We just found ourselves a witness who claims to have seen the boys at McDonald’s. He describes them in detail, down to the clothes they were wearing. Could be he’s been looking at the news. A word of caution though, he’s not very credible. The man has a drinking problem.”

Shayna’s excitement bubbled over. She’d always been an optimist. “Now we’ve got two witnesses. Isn’t that better than none at all?”

“What’s your weekend look like?” Colin asked.

What was this about her weekend? She thought she’d made it clear to Colin that she wanted to be friends, at least for now. She didn’t answer right off, and he must have sensed her hesitancy.

“Hey, no pressure, hon. I thought you might enjoy hiking. I’m going with another attorney from the firm and her significant other. The weather this weekend is supposed to be beautiful.”

While the thought of getting exercise and being outdoors appealed to her, she didn’t want to encourage Colin. If she went traipsing off with him and some other couple he might get the wrong message. She didn’t want to lead him on.

“I’ve already made plans for the weekend,” Shayna lied. “Maybe another time.”

She did indeed have chores, like going to the grocery store, cleaning house, and reading up more about Beau.

“You will call me if things change?” Colin said, his tone light “I’d like to show you another side of Denver.”

Shayna thanked him for thinking of her, and then went back to her dinner preparations. She’d done the right thing. It wouldn’t do to tick off Reggie’s attorney, who was definitely making his interest known. She felt no attraction for Colin, so why encourage him?

Shayna thought of the contrast between Colin and Beau. Both men were so different Colin was suave, well groomed, and definitely a man about town, while Beau, with his one gold earring, marched to a different drummer. Beau was competitive, driven, committed to causes. He had this compelling need to see the underdog succeed. Colin, she would guess, probably donated money to designated charities, but only because it provided him with a good tax write-off. Otherwise he would not care, she sensed.

Shayna placed the chicken in the oven and the phone jingled again. She counted the rings, waiting for Reggie to pick up. After the fourth, she grabbed the receiver.

“Hello.”

“Shayna?”

Her heart did a rapid thump-thump and breathing did not come easy. Beau. How had he gotten her number at home? That’s right, Reggie had given Mohammed his phone number.

“Something wrong?” she asked, when she finally found her voice.

“Nothing that two new legs wouldn’t fix.” He chuckled self-consciously. Shayna waited for him to go on.

“By the way, I finished your book.”

“Good for you. And how did you find it?”

Was he really calling because he’d finished her book or did he want something else?

“An interesting take on life. You must feel I need motivation. A little inspiration in my life?”

“So the message wasn’t lost on you, eh?” Shayna teased.

“Did I say that?”

Reggie came traipsing through the kitchen, tossing her a puzzled look. He headed for the refrigerator, helped himself to a can of soda, and downed it in a couple of gulps. “When’s dinner?”

Shayna signaled with one hand that dinner would be ready in fifteen minutes.

“Hey, you still there?” Beau queried, his voice bringing her back to the present.

“Sorry. What were we talking about? Yes, the message not being lost on you. As the author says, why dwell on why me? Instead, ask yourself what now? Well, Beau, what now?”

“You never let up, do you?” His chuckle came from deep within his belly.

“Just doing my job,” Shayna said cheekily.

“Is Reggie there?” Beau asked. “Mohammed’s tied up and I have some questions for him. Call it preliminary screening, we need to determine if he’s a good fit for the center.”

Shayna looked up to see Reggie, openly listening, his back pressed against the refrigerator door.

“He’s right here. I’ll put him on.”

“See you tomorrow at therapy.”

Tomorrow they were going to try something new. Aquatic therapy had been successful with so many of her patients. Shayna’s breath whooshed out of her lungs at the thought of seeing Beau in swimming trunks. She’d had erotic fantasies of seeing him naked. This was the next best thing.

“Beau wants to talk to you,” she said, holding out the receiver to Reggie.

“More likely he wants to talk to you. I’m just the excuse,” Reggie muttered.

Shayna ignored him, concentrating on the appetizing aroma wafting its way from inside the oven. Glad for the convenient excuse to see how her chicken was doing, she practically buried her head inside the open door, welcoming the heat.

Just talking to Beau had produced its own glow. She grabbed plates, napkins, and cutlery from the cupboards and pretended not to listen to Reggie’s one-sided conversation.

“Yeah, I suppose I could make it…. Yeah, I’ve ridden before. No, I never worked with adults. Why are you asking if I want to do this?”

Reggie looked frantically in Shayna’s direction.

She came to his aid, mouthing words at him. “Because… I want to make a contribution. I need extra credits to graduate.”

Amazingly, Reggie parroted her. “Sure, I’ll tell Shayna,” he said before hanging up. He flung himself into a chair, grabbed his napkin, and waited for Shayna to serve him.

“Help yourself,” she said, pointing to the kitchen counter, where the chicken, pasta, and tossed salad had been dished out.