Shadow of My Heart - By Caryn Moya-Block Page 0,4

information. How else did they know we were coming?” Raven asked as he handed the finished sketch to the general.

Chapter Two

Cara Hamilton put the creamy Siren Red lipstick on her lips, then puckered up to check the line. The color matched her new dress perfectly. Grabbing her favorite perfume, she spritzed it into the air, letting it fall on her face and long dark curls. Running her hands down her dress, she checked her reflection.

Cara liked the beaded detail on the bodice of the dress and the sexy slit that revealed her right thigh. Slipping on her red stiletto-heeled shoes, she admired the little red heart on the ankle of her silk stockings. She lived on a teacher’s salary, and buying this outfit stretched her budget. However, by supplementing it with income from her small inheritance, she could afford the outfit.

She fastened a simple gold chain with a garnet pendant around her neck and added matching earrings. The garnets sparkled in the light. Cara felt like a princess going to a ball, a sexy, confident, princess.

Tonight, she would be rubbing elbows with the rich and famous, as she received an award for best teacher of the year. Isanti, Inc., the company sponsoring the award, planned a lavish dinner at the Biltmore Hotel in Los Angeles.

She glanced at the clock on her nightstand. Butterflies were dipping and flying in her stomach. Fifteen minutes remained before the limousine arrived. She swirled a long curl around her finger, then mentally stopped herself. Confident, she needed to be confident. Walking into the front room she picked up a beaded evening purse that matched her dress. She quickly surveyed the contents and placed the gold-scripted invitation inside.

Tyler Davidson and his wife Susan would be arriving any minute. Davidson was principal of the elementary school where Cara taught third grade. He insisted that he accompany Cara to the awards dinner, even managing to get a seat for his wife. Davidson always wanted to be in the spotlight. If he could, he would have taken Cara’s place tonight. But the award went to a teacher, not an administrator.

That didn’t stop him from going around bragging that he taught Cara everything she knew. Or saying he was ultimately responsible for her winning, not the community of Redondo Beach who nominated her and organized a letter-writing campaign to vote for her. He wouldn’t think twice about taking the monetary prize that came with the award if he could get away with it.

Luckily, the funds would be used to build a new playground at the school. Isanti, Inc. would be handling the construction and the disposition of the funds. So Cara wasn’t worried about fraud. Tonight she would try to enjoy herself. She worked hard, and the parents of her students believed she deserved this award.

Biting her bottom lip, she worried about the large crowds. At times, she felt overwhelmed when surrounded by lots of people. Her skin would grow hot, and she wouldn’t be able to breathe. The urge to run would crash over her, and panting for breath, she would need to escape.

Cara heard people’s thoughts and sensed their moods. Sometimes, if someone touched her, she would know things about him or her, things she often didn’t want to know. But she had dealt with this all her life. She had learned to build barriers around her mind for protection. Squaring her shoulders, she stood up straighter. She could do this. She walked into the front room and picked up the picture sitting on her desk. She rubbed a finger over the features of Raven Darkwood. He looked so controlled, his eyes cold, their dark depths hiding secrets.

Cara was excited, just knowing what might happen. When her students’ parents nominated her, she looked up Isanti, Inc., on her computer. Raven Darkwood’s picture caught her attention. He was the older brother and CEO of the company. She found only one picture of him, whereas there were dozens of the playboy younger brother, Derek.

Sitting frozen in her chair, she had felt mesmerized by Raven’s face. Turning off the computer became impossible. She wanted to take the loneliness from his eyes and smooth the frown lines from his face. She actually ran her fingers over the screen as if she could touch him. She could picture him looking like an Indian warrior of old, wearing buckskins and feathers in his hair, stoically standing at the top of a mesa.

She printed his picture and kept it on her desk like a talisman.