Canyon. Brenda Jackson
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her with another woman. And he knew that assumption was the reason she’d left town three years ago, cutting all ties with him, and was also the reason why she felt that, upon returning to Denver, she had every right to act as if he didn’t exist.
However, he had put up with it long enough.
They were both corporate attorneys, a profession which had brought them together initially, and a profession that still placed them together on a number of occasions. Since she’d returned to Denver ten months ago, they’d sat across from each other at the negotiating table for more than one business deal. And it bothered him when she acted as if they didn’t share a past.
A number of times he had approached her about straightening things out between them, if for no other reason than so they could have closure, but she always turned him down.
Well, he’d had enough. He refused to allow another day to go by with her thinking he had betrayed her.
So here he was, parked outside the law firm where she worked. Canyon planned to follow her home and confront her. They would finally have that discussion she’d been refusing to give him.
His brothers Stern and Riley had warned him that she had the right to call the police if she felt harassed. But he hoped she wouldn’t feel that way. He wasn’t trying to harass her. He only wanted to talk to her.
He glanced at his watch. Since he wasn’t sure what time she got off work, he’d been parked here for more than an hour now, leaving early from his job at his family’s company—Blue Ridge Land Management—to make sure he didn’t miss her.
He’d moved to switch channels on the radio when his cell phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket and frowned when he saw it was his brother. He clicked the phone on.
“What do you want, Stern?”
“Just calling to see if you’ve been arrested yet.”
Canyon rolled his eyes. “I won’t be getting arrested.”
“Don’t be too sure of that. No woman likes being stalked.”
Canyon’s hand tightened on the steering wheel. “I’m not stalking her.”
Stern chuckled. “So what do you call your plan of waiting in front of her office with the intention of following her home?”
Canyon adjusted his tall frame in the seat to find a more comfortable position. “I wouldn’t have to follow her if she’d told me where she lives.”
“There’s a chance the reason she didn’t tell you is because she doesn’t want you to know,” Stern said. “Her house is her territory, and you’re forcing yourself into her space. She might not like that.”
Canyon was about to tell his brother that at this point he couldn’t care less about what she liked when he saw Keisha and another woman walk out of the building together. They were conversing and smiling, headed to their cars. Both were nice-looking women, but his gaze was focused solely on Keisha. He thought the same thing now that he’d thought the first time he’d met her. She was an incredibly beautiful woman.
She still had creamy brown skin that highlighted dark brown eyes, a perky nose and high cheekbones. And she still wore her silky black hair straight and parted in the center. It brushed against her shoulders. Just looking at her full lips made him remember how they tasted, which in turn made him hungry for them. He wished he didn’t recall the many times he’d spent devouring her mouth.
But there was something different about her shapely body in that navy A-line skirt and pretty blue blouse. Was it his imagination, or did her hips really appear curvier and her breasts slightly larger than what he remembered?
Regardless of whether his memory was playing tricks on him or not, Keisha Ashford looked good.
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.
“Canyon!”
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.”
“Why?”
Although Canyon knew Pete had every right to ask that question, he couldn’t keep his irritation