By: Brenda Jackson

He shifted in his seat again, thinking some things didn’t change, even his desire for a woman who couldn’t stand him.

But he had no problem remembering a time when she could stand him. Those had been the best times of his life. He’d never thought he would be ready to settle down with a woman before his thirty-fifth birthday, but he had fallen for Keisha quickly and had been ready to pop the question—before a lie had torn them apart.

He released a deep sigh as his gaze continued to soak her in, every single detail, especially those legs, which could wrap so firmly around a man’s waist—

“Canyon, are you still there?”

He blinked upon remembering he still had Stern on the phone. “Yes, I’m here. But I have to go. Keisha just walked out and I need to follow her.”

“Be careful, bro. It’s been a long time since a Westmoreland was put in jail. I’m sure you remember those days.”

He drew in a deep breath. How could he forget? There was only one Westmoreland with a jail record. As a teen, his baby brother Brisbane—known around Denver as Badass Bane—had gotten into enough trouble for all of them. Now Bane was serving his country as a kicking-the-enemy-ass navy SEAL.

“It won’t get that far, Stern. I’m no threat to Keisha. I just want to talk to her.”

“You weren’t a threat to her before, but that didn’t stop her from almost slapping a restraining order on you. Look, Canyon, it’s your business but—”

“I know, I know, Stern. You don’t want me to do anything to bring shame on the family.”

Keisha and the woman had parted ways, and Keisha was now walking alone toward her car. She still had that walk that he thought was as sexy as hell. Although she moved like a model, she had the look of a cool professional in her four-inch pumps with her briefcase in hand.


He jumped. “Look, Stern. I’ll call you later.”

Without giving his brother a chance to say anything else, Canyon clicked off the phone. He watched as Keisha sized up her surroundings before opening her car and getting inside. Although she had glanced in his direction she hadn’t seen him. He was parked behind a couple of cars.

He gave her time to start her car and pull out of her parking spot. Then, just as he was about to pull out of his own parking spot, a car darted out in front of him.

“What the hell,” Canyon muttered, hitting his brakes. “What damn fire is he rushing off to?”

Not wanting to lose Keisha, he pulled in behind the black sedan, keeping her vehicle within his vision. After tailing her for a few blocks, he became uneasy. It seemed the car in front of him—the black sedan—was tailing her, as well.

As an attorney, Canyon was aware there were times when clients of the opposing council didn’t like a court’s decision and wanted to make that dislike known. That could be what was happening here. He didn’t want to think of other possibilities, like a carjacking. They’d had a number of those lately around the city.

Canyon’s protective instincts kicked in when Keisha turned a corner to head away from town and the driver of the black sedan did, too. He couldn’t tell if the person driving the car in front of him was male or female because the windows were tinted. But he could make out the license plate number.

He pushed the phone button on his steering wheel. “Yes, Mr. Westmoreland, may I help you?”

“Yes, Samuel. Please connect me with Pete Higgins.”

Pete was best friends with his cousin Derringer and was a deputy with Denver’s police department.

“Please hold on for the connection.”

It didn’t take long for Pete to come on the line. “Deputy Higgins.”

“Pete. This is Canyon. I need you to check out a license plate number.”


Although Canyon knew Pete had every right to ask that question, he couldn’t keep his irritation from escalating. “A woman is being followed.”

“And you know this how?”

Canyon bit his lip to keep from cursing. His patience was stretched to the limit. “I know because I’m following her, as well.”

“Oh. And why are you following her?”