Reign or Shine (2 page)

Since I was completely stunned, I didn't say anything for a moment. I think he took that to mean I wasn't sure how to answer.

His smile faded a bit around the edges. "I mean, I know we don't know each other very wel , but I think you're real y cool. And pretty. And you'd be great to

hang out with. But if you're not interested, I total y understand--"

"No." I cut him off. "I'm interested. I'm definitely interested. I'd love to go to the dance with you."

The smile returned. "Wel , good. I've got a limo and everything lined up."

"That'l do nicely." I grinned at him. A limo. Wow. I knew that Chris's father was a big-time lawyer in Toronto and his mother was a doctor. They definitely didn't have to worry about money.

My mom, on the other hand, wrote romance novels. The non-office freedom of her job helped when she had to make her sudden marriage moves around NorthAmerica. As long as she had her laptop she could write from anywhere. But my father? I had no idea what he did for a living. I'd never known him.

He'd left my mom when she was stil pregnant with me.

"This is good," Chris said. "I've wanted to ask you out since you moved here. I guess I was worried you'd say no."

I almost laughed out loud at that. Who in their right mind would say no to Chris Sanders?

"Wel , then I guess it's good that I said yes."

11

"It is." He put his hand against the locker next to my head and leaned in toward me. He was so close now that I could feel the warmth from his body.

"And I wanted to tel you something else, but I'm a day late."

"What's that?" I breathed. His mouth was only inches away from mine.

"Happy birthday."

"You know it was my birthday yesterday?" He nodded. "Did you have a good one?" "There was cake. Chocolate." "That sounds exciting."

"It was," I said with mock seriousness. "It real y was." "Wel , happy birthday, Nikki." He leaned closer and kissed me.

I was
kissing Chris Sanders.
I'd dreamed about this so many times since I'd moved here, but never thought I'd actual y get the chance.

Kissing him.
In the public hal way at school.

I could die happily now.

When he leaned back from me, I was about to say something--I wasn't even sure what--when Chris glanced to his left.

"Can I help you with something?" he asked with a frown.

I swiveled around to see that the same guy who'd been staring at me earlier in the cafeteria was down the hal from us.

Staring at me.

Creepy.

12

He didn't reply to Chris's question. Instead, after a short hesitation, he turned and walked away, exiting the school completely through the doors at the end

of the hal .

"He total y interrupted us." Chris looked down at me with a grin. "That's just rude, don't you think?"

"Very
rude," I agreed, deciding to put whoever he was out of my mind immediately. "Now, where were we?" he asked.

"Before or after you kissed me?"

"I'm thinking ...
during."
He bent his head to mine again for another quick kiss before the bel rang, signaling that lunch was over and I had to head to my

next class.

By then I had a permanent smile on my face.

I was final y sixteen years old. I had the coolest best friend. A gorgeous, popular guy had just asked me to go to the school dance. And he'd kissed me! Everything I'd ever wanted in life was coming to me. I seriously couldn't have asked for anything more.

Now I just had to make sure that nothing spoiled it. 13

I stayed after school to study for an English test I had the next day on Romeo
and Juliet.
When I left at five o'clock it was already dark outside, but I didn't hurry home since I knew nobody was there. Mom and Robert were at his company's Christmas party and wouldn't be back before midnight.

I'd forgotten to wear the hat, gloves, and scarf Mom had given me yesterday as part of my birthday present. The winter chil bit deeply into me as I left school property, but I was in too good a mood to let the subzero temperature bother me.

Wel , not much, anyway.

It was a fairly short walk home. Twenty minutes if I went the regular way--up a hil and through a maze of wel -populated streets. If I wanted to, I could even

hop on the bus that went right past the mal on the way to my new neighborhood. But I'd found a shortcut by walking through a park nicknamed Hungry Hol ow, which was at the bottom of a deep ravine and shrouded by thick trees. If I crossed a bridge over a narrow, meandering river, went past a parking

14

lot--empty at this time of year since it was meant for people using the soccer field during the warmer months--and past a smal kiddies' area with swings

and a seesaw, then up the equivalent of three flights of wooden stairs to get to ravine-set houses, it was only ten minutes from school to home.

Twelve if I

took my time.

I'd walked the same route for two months and hadn't run into a single problem, except for the odd monster snowdrift. I always made sure I was ful y aware

of my surroundings. You never could be too careful.

Unfortunately, today was going to be the exception. I was in such a good mood after what had happened with Chris, and I was so caught up in wondering

what I was going to wear to the dance, that I didn't notice somebody was fol owing me until after I'd ful y entered the poorly lit park. And by then it was too late to change my mind about the direction I was going in.

With a sick, sinking feeling I realized it was the weird guy who'd been staring at me in school that day. I recognized the sweatshirt after a quick glance behind me.

Who was he? What did he want?

Maybe nothing,
I thought.
Maybe he's just taking the same route as me. Coincidence only.

If that was the case, then fine. But if it wasn't . . .

I swal owed hard and picked up my pace. I had a ways to go before I got to the wooden stairs, but first I reached a big oak tree and a patch of thick foliage that stood in the center of the park. As soon as I knew I was out of sight from the main path, I ducked behind some snow-covered bushes.

15

The guy stopped in front of the huge tree and turned around with an expression of confusion showing under the dark hood of his sweatshirt. He craned his neck to see where I'd disappeared to. When his gaze reached the bushes, he paused.

He could clearly see my hiding spot. A sharp stab of panic went through me.

He squinted at me. "Nikki Donovan?" I felt a flare of anger push past my fear. "What do you want?"

"Why are you down there?"

I hissed out a breath and watched the air freeze in front of me. My heart was thudding wildly against my ribs. I didn't want to be the kind of girl who hid from

danger or got pushed around. I'd much rather be like Melinda in the cafeteria today--the sort of girl who confronted things head-on without fear. But yel ing across a crowded room was one thing. Being fol owed into a deserted park was another one altogether.

A quick head-to-toe scan of the guy confirmed that he wasn't carrying a knife. Or a gun. In fact, he didn't have anything, not even a winter coat or scarf to keep him warm. I forced myself to stand up and shuffle away from my protective area--which I now realized wasn't very protective at al .

I crossed my arms tightly in front of me. "You shouldn't fol ow people into dark areas."

"Sorry. I ... I didn't mean to scare you."

Natural y, I wasn't convinced.

"What do you want?" I asked again, glancing over at the

16

wooden staircase. I could get to it in less than thirty seconds if I ran fast. I wished my backpack wasn't so heavy, but it was fil ed with books I needed to

finish cramming for my Shakespeare test tomorrow.

"I need to talk to you," he said. "It's urgent."

I swal owed hard. My guard was stil up.
Way
up. "Who are you?"

He looked confused. "Who am I?"

"It's not a trick question. What's your name?"

For a second I didn't think he was going to tel me, but then, "Michael. My name's Michael."

I'd been nursing a headache since having the chocolate cake last night and I'd gone al day without any Tylenol. My head was pounding now and getting worse by the minute. "Why are you fol owing me, Michael?"

"I have to talk to you. I tried to earlier, but there were too many people around."

My hands felt like they were freezing into two solid blocks of ice. Maybe it was the cold that was helping to numb my fright a bit. Not a lot, but a bit.

"You should have talked to me at school, anyway. I have to get home now." When I turned to leave, I felt him grab my arm. I froze, and not just with the temperature. I turned to face him, my eyes wide with fear. "Let go of me."

He let go of me immediately and took a step back. "Sorry. It's just that I have to talk to you. There's no time."

"You need to leave me alone."

His jaw tensed. "I can't do that." He stared at the ground and then pushed the dark hair off his face. I final y got a 17

glimpse of what he looked like underneath. I don't know why I'd expected him to be ugly. The fact that he was attractive surprised me, but didn't ease my

mind at al .

He wasn't as thin as I'd thought at first glance, more lean and athletic under the il -fitting clothes. Which would explain the kil er grip he had. He had high

cheekbones and stern eyebrows like black slashes above his emerald green eyes.

"The cops patrol this park al the time," I told him. "So I think you should leave or there's going to be trouble. I'm going home and I strongly suggest you do

the same."

He raised his gaze to look directly at me. "Not yet, Princess."

I blinked at that. "Who are you cal ing Princess?" "You." He took a step toward me.

I took a big step back. "You need to stay away from me or we're going to have a serious problem here."

He frowned deeply, then reached into the pocket of the navy blue hoodie he wore. I clenched my fists, trying to ready myself for anything. My throat felt too tight to scream, but I'd give it my best shot.

He pul ed out an envelope and offered it to me. I stared at it without moving.

"What's that?" I managed.

"It wil explain a little. But you need to come with me right now. He's waiting for us." "Who's waiting?" "Your father."

My mouth dropped open. Out of everything he could have said to me, I couldn't have expected that. At al .

18

"You're obviously mistaken," I said. "I don't have a father."

"You do. Please, take the envelope."

My fear and anger were quickly losing ground to a deep annoyance. "Look, I don't know who put you up to this, but it's not funny."

The hand that held the envelope dropped a little. Michael seemed uncertain of what to do now, since I wasn't being at al agreeable. "He ... he said you'd be surprised to hear from him after al this time, but there's no other way."

"My
father
sent you to give me a message," I said with major disbelief.

"And to bring you to his side."

I stil couldn't believe I was hearing him correctly. "Wel ... why you?"

He frowned. "Because he asked me to."

This was so unreal. I'd barely thought about my father for years. It helped that my mother refused to talk about him even on the rare occasion that I was curious to learn more about where I came from. I guess being left alone and pregnant at eighteen might make you have a tendency to want to forget the

somebody who's treated you so badly. Made sense to me.

Michael waited patiently with his arms crossed, the envelope held loosely in his right hand. "Let me tel you a little something about my father," I said. My headache was getting worse the longer I talked to this weirdo. "He got my mother pregnant and then he disappeared without a trace and left her al on her own. Sixteen

19

years and he hasn't tried to see me. Not once. Not a letter, a phone cal , or an e-mail. So even if I did believe you, why would I want to see him at al ?"

His face looked strained. "Because there are things you need to know. About him. About you."

My eyes narrowed. "I have an idea. Why don't you take that envelope you have there back to whoever gave it to you and tel them to shove it?"

He raised his eyebrows. "I don't think that message would go over too wel ."

I had to admit, I'd always imagined what it might be like to have a real father. The four guys my mother had married over the last twelve years hadn't exactly fit the bil for me-- and in the end, obviously not for her either. Somebody doesn't get married that many times if they've found Mr. Right.

Robert the accountant was the latest. I didn't like him much. That was an understatement, actual y. His hobbies seemed to include yel ing a lot and getting mad about stupid things--like when I left my homework on the sofa in front of the television one night. Not exactly anything to freak out over, in my opinion. I

real y didn't like how he treated me--or my mom, for that matter. Mom said it had only been two months and it might take a bit of adjusting to our new living arrangements. I wasn't so convinced, but I figured I'd try to wait it out.

Stil , I'd seen too many of her relationships start out strong, only to fizzle after a couple of years. Sometimes it didn't even take that long for her to realize she'd made a

20

mistake. This was always after we'd already moved across the country, though. Atlanta, Phoenix, San Diego, and now Erin Heights. I was kind of sick of

being told what to do and forced to move al over the place. But I didn't real y have much of a choice in the matter. I went where I was told to go. I did what I

was told to do. I tried not to make too much of a fuss about it. End of story.

But any of the jerks she'd married were better than my biological father. At least I'd seen them with my own eyes. As far as I was concerned, my father

didn't even exist.