Finding Ms Right

FINDING MS. RIGHT

…Slade had no plans to propose to her. Ever. The book was very clear on that. If the weekend journey ploy does not obtain a proposal, Mr. Millionaire has no plans to ask for your hand. Devote your time to more marriageminded suitors. But Jenna didn’t want a more marriageminded suitor. She wanted Slade. She wanted Emily. Sinking onto her knees, she slid a book onto the lower shelf with less force than the previous two. Percy climbed into her half lap, his tail tickling her chin. Jenna ran a hand over his back and Percy arched into her caress. “Percy, I think I’ve really messed up.” Percy’s only reply was a persistent purr. “I think he might have actually liked me for myself, and I played games and used the book until he is fed up with my standoffishness. What should I do?” But Jenna didn’t need an answer that Percy couldn’t give anyway. It was time for honesty. If Slade bothered to call her again, she would admit trying the advice in the book. Perhaps they could start over without all of this trickery between them. Jenna pushed herself to a standing position. “If he can’t love me without the book, then it isn’t real.” Why was it suddenly so important that he love her for herself? She had set out to marry Slade to save this store. Even though she’d had a school girl crush on him for years, it hadn’t gone deeper than that. But somewhere between their laughter

and his getting knocked over by a wave, she’d been knocked over by love. “I love him.” Her whisper filled the empty store. Percy was the only one to hear and he would never repeat her confidence…

PRAISE FOR FINDING MS. RIGHT

“Soard, the author of several books, captivated me as a firsttime reader. Her characters are lovable, and their journey to find love kept me turning the pages.” —Faith Smith Romantic Times BOOKclub “This is an author to keep your eye on. I have a feeling that within a very short few years, she’s going to be a name in the industry to be reckoned with. Move over Jayne Ann Krentz and Jennifer Crusie. There’s a new gal in town.” —Patti Andrews Word Museum Reviews “4 Stars!…I encourage everybody to read the story and to fall in love with baby Emily!” —Anne Chaput ECataromance “Restores my faith in the happily ever after.” —Pamela Johnson/Amanda McIntyre

“The story is charming. If you are looking for a light, humorous read, this is it.” —Jeannine D. Van Eperen Gotta Write Network

ALSO BY LORI SOARD The Elixir

FINDING MS. RIGHT BY LORI SOARD

AMBER Q UILL PRESS, LLC http://www.AmberQuill.com

FINDING MS. R IGHT AN AMBER QUILL PRESS BOOK This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. Amber Quill Press, LLC http://www.AmberQuill.com All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review. Copyright © 2007 by Lori Soard ISBN 978-1-60272-070-1 Cover Art © 2007 Trace Edward Zaber

Layout and Formatting provided by: Elemental Alchemy

PUBLISHED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

Pamela Johnson, you are always there to lend an ear and cheer me on. My beautiful daughters, Caitlin and Hailey, you understand when Mom is on a deadline and you pitch in to help. I’m so thankful that God blessed me with both of you. To my husband, Scott, who doesn’t really get romance, but appreciates my passion for writing. Trace Edward Zaber, who encouraged me to write the stories of my heart and he would publish them. I appreciate your belief in me more than you know. To EJ Gilmer, whose edits make my books so much better. I appreciate your work and attention to detail. All the glory goes to God, who created me to be a writer. Without Him, I would not have the joy, grace, and salvation that make my life certain and peaceful.

FINDING MS. RIGHT

PROLOGUE The ancient trunk had been passed down in the Mayker family for as long as Madge could remember. The inscription on the lid etched there by some primitive Mayker, the books lovingly placed within, the wooden vessel passed from one daughter to the next for guardianship. Brushing dust off the letters, Madge read them aloud, “Those Who Read These Tomes Will Find the Miracle of Love.” She let the words settle into the still air, their magic soothing her. Madge lifted the lid, rusty hinges creaking into the silence of the damp attic. She reached inside and pulled loose a dusty volume, noticing the blue veins covering the back of her hands 1

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and the slight tremble. Soon her time in this world would be gone. She sighed. Who would she pass the trunk to? She had no daughters of her own, having never been married. The titles in the trunk covered every element of love advice imaginable from how to marry a millionaire to love potions. She traced the slightly raised title on a navy blue book jacket, and smiled. How to Wed A Man of Means. She remembered the first persons she’d lent this particular book. They’d found true love, despite the advice found in it. Remembering snippets of people who had flitted in and out of her life over the years, she pulled out and held each book tenderly before replacing it in the shadowy interior. When she came to the last book, her heart thudded with a dull ache. Her nephew had read this one. He was gone now, as were so many people she had loved. But he had left three daughters. A feeling of peace washed over her, like gentle waves lapping at a sandy beach. Yes, she would leave the trunk to one of his daughters, the oldest daughter, as had been the tradition from the beginning. She supposed that, not having daughters of her own, it would be acceptable to make her niece the keeper of the miracle.

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CHAPTER 1 Jenna pushed the heavy trunk into the back corner of her storeroom, panting with the effort. Aunt Madge had willed the wooden vessel to her. What could be in it? She grinned. Wouldn’t it be nice if it held jewels? She could sell them to help pay her creditors. Her bookstore, The Tome Home, normally brought in enough money to pay the bills, but sales were down and a couple of bounced, out-of-state checks had hurt her. Being the oldest child, she felt it was her responsibility to see that her parents’ legacy lived on. Her father had built the bookshelves with his own gentle hands. Brushing a thin layer of dust off the wooden lid, her 3

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fingers traced the carved letters. “Those Who Read These Tomes Will Find the Miracle of Love.” The words hung in the air, like a secret waiting to be discovered. A shiver of premonition slithered over her. A black blur launched itself at her ankles, causing her to scream in alarm. Jenna looked down and laughed. Percy, the shop cat, had pounced at the skirt swirling around her ankles. Her hand fluttered to her chest. “Jeez, Percy! I’m getting as eccentric as Aunt Madge. Miracle of love indeed.” Still, she wondered what was in the trunk. Never one to leave a Christmas present undisturbed, or to put down a mystery novel until the last clue was solved, she lifted the tarnished metal clasp and raised the lid. Hinges creaked, dust flew. Jenna sneezed as the musty smell of aged paper greeted her nostrils. “Look, Percy. Books!” The trunk did contain a treasure of sorts. Volumes and volumes of books. Old books. Probably collector’s books. Perhaps she could sell them and pay the bills. But even as the thought came to her, the words the lawyer had read that afternoon drifted through her ears. “To my niece, Jenna McBay, the eldest daughter of my nephew, I leave the guardianship of the miracle.” Jenna shook her head. Crazy! Yet, she couldn’t help but feel a connection with her past. The lawyer had explained that the trunk had been handed down to the eldest daughter of the Mayker family for hundreds of years. She was the closest thing to an eldest daughter Aunt Madge had possessed. 4

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She reached carefully into the trunk, and lifted a heavy book with brittle, yellowed pages. The cover was a dulled red with raised black letters. How to Wed a Man of Means. Her laughter rang out into the silence of the closed bookstore. Percy jumped to attention, fur standing on end, hissing. “Oh, hush, Percy. I’m just laughing because this is exactly what I need, to marry a millionaire. It would solve all of my problems.” Grinning at the insane thought, she walked to the front of the store to turn the open sign around. Jenna knew she couldn’t resist reading the text and seeing what type of demented advice her foremothers had offered on marrying Mr. Millionaire. Who knew? Maybe it would work. If it meant she could find a millionaire, she might give it a try. *

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“I quit.” Rose O’Mallory slammed the front door behind her. Slade Walker felt as though his house of cards had just tumbled down around him. Another nanny. Gone. This made the fifth one in as many months. Emily let out a piercing wail, drawing her legs up to her stomach, her face turning scarlet. Slade sighed, picked her up and patted her ineffectively on the back. She’d been colicky from the day she was born and hadn’t outgrown it at three months as the doctors had estimated, but 5

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had gone right on into her seventh month, still grumpy and cranky at times. Would it never stop? He ran a soothing hand over the baby’s downy head of dark hair. He just didn’t know what else to do for her. He’d tried all the doctor’s suggestions, but none of them had worked. What was he going to do? He couldn’t leave her with just anyone. She was a difficult baby. It had to be just the right person. Someone who would be patient. He frowned. A child needed a mother. A loving, understanding mother. But his baby would never have that. Bridgett may have borne Emily, but not out of love. She’d wanted to terminate the pregnancy. Slade had paid her an extravagant sum of money to carry the baby to term and then sign away her parental rights, granting him full custody. He hugged Emily close to him, her powdery baby scent bringing out his protective instincts. He’d never regretted keeping his child. Being a single father was tough, but the rewards more than made up for any hardships. Holding her warm, soft body close, he realized that parenthood fulfilled a desire so deep it radiated love from the core of his being. An elemental, age-old instinct that had grown into abiding love. Those few quiet moments they had when Emily would snuggle into him trustingly or coo and smile that big, toothless grin were worth everything. A lump rose to his throat. But as much as he loved his daughter, the reality was he was without child care—once more. Patting her back, he bounced her gently up and down. Slade paced as he thought. He needed someone who would be 6

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willing to last the long haul with a baby; someone who would stay permanently and care for Emily. Someone who would eat his gourmet cooking, listen to his business ideas and keep him company. He needed a wife. Slade chuckled. That would be the perfect solution. However, he’d had little opportunity to date in the last seven months. Babysitters weren’t exactly lining up to watch his squalling daughter so he could go on dates. Too bad he couldn’t hand pick a wife and mother for Emily. He frowned. Wasn’t there a book out about marrying Ms. Right? Some silly nonsense about finding and wooing the perfect mate? Emily hiccupped loudly, her cries escalating. Maybe he should read the book. It certainly couldn’t hurt. He gave Emily a final decisive pat. He would go to The Tome Home tomorrow and see if they had Ms. Right in stock. *

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Rule number one: Never throw yourself at a millionaire. They thrive on challenge. Hold yourself aloof. When he asks to call on you, act slightly irritated. Never agree to courting the first time he asks. Jenna giggled. The book had to be well over a hundred years old. It was so outdated it was absurd. Yet, Jenna wondered if perhaps the suggestion had some merit. Play hard to get was advice mothers had been giving daughters for generations. “Percy, if I had a man to try the advice out on, maybe I would play hard to get.” As she stroked his silky black fur, the cat arched his back, purring loudly. 7

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The bell over the shop door jingled. Jenna propelled the book under the counter. She raised her gaze and met the greenest eyes she’d ever seen. His eyes reminded her of leaves on a freshly budding tree. Slade Walker. Her heart thumped loudly and she wondered if he could hear it. He was a few years older than she was, so they hadn’t been friends in school. But she’d been aware of him. Oh, how she’d been aware of him. Back then, every time he’d passed her in the hall, she’d had to hide her flushed cheeks. The times he’d said hello to her in his deep voice that reminded her of the husky harmony of an acoustic guitar, her knees had nearly buckled. She felt heat creep into her face and realized nothing had changed. She still had a huge crush on Slade Walker. “Hi, Jenna.” Slade strolled into the store, pausing for a moment and looking around, as if to see if anyone else was there. Strange. The man usually wasn’t so indecisive. He had a reputation for being ruthless in business and he never seemed to let his emotions get involved with the women he dated. Jenna frowned. Actually, the latest rumor was that he had run off the mother of his baby, forcing her to give up the child. “Where’s Emily?” she asked because Slade usually took his daughter everywhere. “My sister took her to the Woodside Zoo.” “Looking for anything in particular?” She couldn’t help letting her gaze flit down to his casual jeans and sneakers. 8

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Whether in a business suit or not, Slade Walker had always been comfortable in his own skin. He cleared his throat. “I think I’ll just look.” He turned and rushed to the back of the store. Jenna wondered if that was a faint flush she’d spotted on his cheeks? Surely not. He always seemed so sure of himself. Perhaps he wanted a book on how to be human and didn’t know how to ask. Smothering a giggle, Jenna patted Percy on the head. Several minutes later, Slade thumped down several heavy volumes on her counter. A tuft of coal black hair had dropped onto his forehead. Jenna’s fingers curled against her palms, itching to brush it back. She picked up the books and entered the bar codes into her register. Inventory was so much easier now she’d gone to the computerized system. Percy leapt onto the counter and brushed himself against Slade’s chest, mewing softly. “Percy, get down.” Jenna reached out to transfer him back to the floor. Slade waved her away. “Leave him alone. I like cats.” His strong hand stroked the cat. Jenna’s mouth went dry, wishing he’d hold her in his arms just once. She punched in the wrong numbers for the book she was holding. She had to stop this. No longer were they in high school and she with a huge crush on Slade. He’d never been aware she existed anyway; the big senior on campus and she’d been a lowly freshman. On top of that, she was a book worm—like she’d ever have a chance with him. 9

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Picking up the last book from the pile, her hand suddenly trembled and her gaze flew to his. Find Ms. Right. His rugged features were definitely red this time. Slade had come in with the specific purpose of purchasing this book. There was no doubt after the way he’d slid into her store and then put the book on the bottom of the stack. She’d been in business long enough to recognize the act of buying four more books than you needed to draw attention away from the one you truly sought. So he wanted a wife. She wondered why he hadn’t married Emily’s mother. Jenna smothered a smile. Perhaps she should use her millionaire book. Slade certainly qualified as owner of Walker Industries. As an added bonus, he was devastatingly attractive. Jenna gave herself a shake. Ridiculous. He’d never be interested in her. She was too simple. Not glamorous at all. He lived in the fast lane and she stayed in first gear. *

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Slade had never felt so foolish. Jenna McBay was downto-earth. Studious. How could someone like her understand what drove a person to seek a wife or husband through a book? He almost groaned. At least Jenna wasn’t a gossip. He doubted the news of his purchase would go any further. He glanced at her, and felt his chin drop almost to his chest. When did Jenna grow up? She’d been a thin, lanky teenager—almost boyish looking—although pretty, even then. 10

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That had been seven years ago, he realized. Time certainly changed things. He allowed his gaze to rest on the soft swell of her breasts which pushed against her cotton, button-up dress. From where he was standing, it appeared that the tiny, pearl-colored buttons ran the length of the blush-colored material. He grinned. Jenna would be shocked right down to her sensible shoes if she knew his thoughts. “There you go.” She placed a bag with her store’s logo on the counter. A slight rosy blush rode high on her cheeks. Her exotic violet eyes sparkled with laughter. So she was laughing at him? Well, he supposed he deserved it. The books he’d purchased had ranged from baby care to mechanics to the Ms. Right book. The others were all a cover for the book he’d come to buy. He held his breath for a moment, but when she didn’t comment on his purchase, released the air from his lungs. So she was sensitive to others’ feelings too. Jenna was quite a woman. She would make somebody a fine wife someday. His thoughts screamed to a screeching halt. Wife. He took stock, running his gaze over her from head to toe. Pretty face, compassion, intelligence, and her appeal was off the charts. He shifted uncomfortably, still picturing Jenna as a thin, gangly young girl. Ask her out, an inner voice clamored. “Jenna, would you like to have dinner with me and Emily?” A dull red rose from her throat and over her cheeks. Her gaze flitted down behind the counter as if she were consulting 11

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someone. Then she looked back up at him with a faintly annoyed expression. “Not tonight.” He shuffled his feet. Did she mean just not tonight or never? He couldn’t remember any woman ever turning him down. Perhaps she just wasn’t interested. “Okay. Another time maybe.” “Maybe.” He smiled at her and gave a jaunty wave as he headed out the door. And that my friend, was a definite no. She’s not interested. No way. No how. But he couldn’t shake the image of that long row of buttons.

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CHAPTER 2 Jenna glared at the book still resting under the counter. Why had she turned down his dinner invitation? Was she crazy? Surprised at his request, she’d choked; said the first thing that came into her head, which was the advice of that lousy book. How many times had she imagined going on a date with Slade? Then, she got her big chance—and what did she do? “I blew it, Percy.” Glancing out the big front window to make sure no one was headed for the store, she yanked the heavy manuscript from the low shelf. The advice in it was hopelessly out of date. She laid it flat on the faintly scarred oak counter and let it fall open. 13

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The heavy ink rose up in bold relief against the brittle parchment. Jenna rubbed her thumb against the corner of the page. Her family had owned a bookstore in Miracles Landing for as long as anyone could remember. Books were in her blood. She took in a deep breath, and the scent of musty paper wrapped itself around her. Its effect was headier than a French perfume. Rule number five: When a gentleman follows rule number two and asks to call on you at least three days in advance, you may accept. However, pause for ten seconds before accepting. It will make him nervous. That is good. Jenna frowned. This advice seemed really devious to her. Game playing. She was a mature woman. Why should she play games? *

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Strapping Emily in her high chair, Slade winced as he placed a bowl of mashed bananas in front of her. Invariably most of the food would wind up in her hair, ears and all over the floor. His daughter squealed in high-pitched delight, arms waving. Slade grinned at her. “Daddy’s gonna find us a mommy.” Emily cooed, smiling her wide toothless grin. Slade sat down at the table, sipped on his lukewarm coffee, and pulled Find Ms. Right toward him. It was hard to concentrate with Emily slinging bits of 14

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banana all over the room. And when the image of flowing raven hair, big pansy-colored eyes, and full, kissable lips kept intruding, it became near impossible. “It says here—if a woman turns you down to forget it, Emily. She isn’t interested.” Emily stopped eating, if he could call what she did with food eating, a look of utter fascination on her tiny features. “She turned me down, kiddo. Guess that means I should move on to an easier catch?” He shoved the book away, a heavy feeling in his gut. A sip of the strong, bitter coffee and a bite of his sandwich restored his resolve to find a mother for Emily. Was it devious to marry a woman for that purpose? Possibly. But he would be faithful and loving so he wouldn’t allow himself to feel too guilty. Stretching out one hand, he edged the book back toward him. He would follow the advice. No matter how much it rankled. Rule number one: Be bold. Women like confident men. If you are attracted to someone, call and ask for a date. He chewed another bite of his ham and Swiss. Be bold. Wasn’t that what he’d done with Jenna? It hadn’t worked. His gaze drifted to the phone. Perhaps he hadn’t gone about it in the right way. “Should I give it another shot, kiddo?” Emily chuckled and mashed a banana into her eyelashes. Slade tweaked her nose. Bath time. As soon as he made his call. 15

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Locating the listing for The Tome Home in his directory, he quickly jabbed in the numbers. He considered hanging up. He should have written out what he wanted to say. That way he wouldn’t stumble over his words. This was ridiculous. He’d asked numerous women out. Why was he so nervous about asking this one? Because of that stupid book? Maybe it had to do with his limited social life lately. Or perhaps it was none of those. Perhaps it was Jenna. “Hello?” Her voice was slightly breathless. “It’s Slade Walker.” Emily gurgled in the background as if in encouragement. Slade grinned—his miniature cheering section. “Hi, Slade. Long time no see.” Slade chuckled. She had a quirky sense of humor. Not everyone could appreciate that quality, but he could because his humor was idiosyncratic too. “I wanted to set a definite date for that dinner.” He might as well plunge right in. The silence on the other end of the line almost hurt his ears. He heard a faint crinkle of paper. Nothing. Was she still there? Had she hung up on him? *

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Nine one thousand. Ten one thousand. Jenna mentally counted off ten seconds before answering. The book had worked! She’d acted faintly irritated at his invitation and he’d called her back immediately. Well, it had made her a believer, or at least willing to try 16

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the advice. Pausing the required ten seconds, she answered, making sure there was just the right amount of calm interest in her voice. “I suppose.” “What about Friday night?” She heard a loud clatter in the background and wondered, for a moment, if he’d dropped the phone. Then she heard him groan. “Sorry. Bananas everywhere.” “Emily?” Jenna smiled. She loved babies. Gooey bananas and all. “Friday. At seven.” He sounded in a hurry to conclude the call. Jenna felt a stirring of irritation. The main theme of her book seemed to be not to make it too easy on the man. Play hard to get. “Friday. At eight. I have a prior commitment until then.” She reached out and scratched Percy between the ears. The cat looked up at her with content, slitted eyes, throat rumbling like a freight train. “Okay. Eight o’clock. Where should I pick you up?” “My house.” “See you then. ’Bye.” Jenna replaced the receiver and leaned against the counter. She had a date with Slade Walker. She picked Percy up and waltzed around to the front of the counter. Percy gave a wail of protest. Jenna took sympathy on him and set him down. “I have a date with Slade Walker,” she sang. 17

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*

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Rule number four: Always kiss Ms. Right on your first date. This will let her know you have serious intentions and want more than a casual relationship. Do not try to take things further, unless she initiates it. Slade nudged the book under the driver’s seat and made his way to the front door of Jenna’s sea-weathered wood house. Taking a deep breath, he rapped on the door. Several slow minutes ticked by with no answer. Had she forgotten he was coming? He flipped his wrist over and glanced at his Rolex watch. Ten minutes early. The door swung inward and Slade straightened. “Oh. Is it eight already?” Jenna looked faintly annoyed. “Ten ’til.” “Okay. Let me grab my purse.” She disappeared for a moment. Slade noticed she didn’t bother to invite him in. Perhaps she didn’t trust him. He shrugged as annoyance tugged his lips down in a frown. Jenna didn’t act like she was much interested in him at all. He didn’t remember her being so standoffish in school. Shy maybe. But never this cool. She returned with a small, black purse slung over her shoulder. “Ready.” A huge smile lit up her face. Slade caught his breath. Her eyes sparkled like violets drizzled with morning dew and her cheeks had a rosy blush. She’d turned into quite a beauty in the last seven years. 18

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“I thought we’d eat at the Italian Gardens,” he said. “Sounds wonderful.” Slade followed her outside and opened the passenger door of his midnight black Jaguar for her. Jenna settled herself back in the plush, tan leather seat and he clicked her door shut. Taking a deep breath, he crossed to the driver’s side, got in and started the engine. He couldn’t remember being so nervous on a date since…he’d never been this nervous before. Pulling out onto Buccaneer Bay Drive, he glanced over at Jenna. She had on another button down dress—this one was a soft white material with tiny red hearts clasping it down the front. She’d pulled the sides of her dark hair back, showing off her high cheekbones and heart-shaped face. He grinned. Jenna McBay had most definitely grown up. No longer could he look at her and think of her as a little sister type. His feelings toward her were anything but brotherly. “How are your sisters?” “Hope will be graduating from high school in May and Amy is anxious to go to college.” He noticed the sudden flutter of her hands to her throat. “You raised them the last two years?” Experience in his opinion. Another point in her favor for being his wife and Emily’s mother. “Not really. They were both practically raised. I just provided a roof over their heads and made sure we stayed together.” “But you do like children?” He heard the faint note of 19

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panic in his voice and smiled to cover it. Jenna tilted her head to the side and stared at him for a moment as if considering her answer. Shrugging her shoulders, she said, “I suppose. I hadn’t really thought about it.” Slade felt a press of consternation in his midriff. If she hadn’t even thought about having children of her own, how could he impose on her to raise his? He felt like groaning and placing his head in his hands. *

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Rule number three: Always remain reserved. Do not bring up his family or show undue interest in starting a family of your own. It will make you seem desperate. Jenna lowered her eyes. It had been difficult not to gush when Slade had asked her if she liked children. She adored children. The book was working, wasn’t it? She was on a date with Slade. As long as she didn’t break the rules laid out, she could keep seeing him, and maybe have a chance at marriage. The rugged length of his jaw was rigid. Jenna wondered if he was annoyed. Perhaps she had broken a rule? She pictured the book in her mind. Crisp ink against yellowed pages. No she’d followed the advice for a first outing perfectly. She even remembered rule number four: Never let him kiss you. Not even a chaste kiss on the cheek, until he’s been calling on you for at least a month. Jenna grinned. Slade Walker was going to be surprised at 20

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the end of the evening. She was certain that most women fell all over themselves and straight into bed with him. Well, she wouldn’t be one of them because she wanted to be his wife— not another play thing. Besides, she’d been keeping herself pure for many years for the man she’d one day marry. It would be her gift to her future husband. Burgundy tablecloths, a single rose in a crystal vase and violinists traveling from table to table gave the Italian Gardens an elegant atmosphere. Jenna relaxed in her chair, and looked around the room with interest. She remembered the book had said something about not staring at your companion but appearing interested in everything else. Slade cleared his throat slightly once the waiter had taken their orders. Jenna resisted the urge to glance at him. “Jenna?” He placed warm strong fingers over hers and gave a little squeeze. “Sorry. I was lost in thought.” She smiled slightly. “I could see that.” A self-derisive smile flitted at the corners of his mouth. “I get the feeling you’d rather be anywhere but here with me.” Jenna almost gasped. The book had cautioned against taking your remoteness too far. Apparently she had. She turned her fingers over under his and clasped his hand, squeezing gently. “I’m glad you asked me out.” She gazed into his green eyes for a moment to let him know she was interested. He grinned. “Great. I was worried there for a minute.” Like he really needed to be. Jenna kept her thoughts to 21

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herself though. Each time she started doubting the book and its advice, it proved itself. No sense in telling him she wanted to be with him more than anyone else she could imagine. And not just because of his money, she admitted to herself. They talked about old school friends and town happenings as they ate their food. Jenna found herself laughing over his description of Gilda Webb, the town handy woman. “I can just picture her.” Slade smiled fondly. “Gray ponytail sticking out of the back of her baseball cap, and a fierce frown on her face as she holds nails in her mouth and hammers them in one at a time.” He had a way of depicting their small town life that was not cruel but comically honest. “Dessert?” Slade pointed to the cart being wheeled past them. Jenna patted her stomach. “I couldn’t eat another bite.” “Me either.” He grinned a slightly lopsided grin, his dimples flashing. Jenna felt her heart skitter. “Want to go for a drive?” She wanted to more than anything. Swallowing, she shook her head negatively. Rule number six: Always end the visit first. Never prolong your time with said millionaire. It will make you all the more desirable. “I’m sorry. I have a busy day tomorrow. I really need to get home.” 22

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Rule number two: Always try to prolong the date with Ms. Right. Be insistent. Women like a forceful man. “Just a short drive?” Slade asked. Jenna sighed. “Sorry. Not tonight.” Slade wondered for the umpteenth time why she had even agreed to go out with him. She certainly didn’t act like a woman who was smitten. Was the advice in that demented book even working? It certainly didn’t appear to be. He shrugged. He’d give it a little longer, then he was throwing it in the trash. He’d give it a couple more dates, if she’d even agree to go out with him again. They walked down Main Street to the edge of town where he’d left his car parked. The normally hustling, cobbled street was silent at this time of night. The seasoned wood on the storefronts had been bleached to a pale gray, and a salty smelling breeze drifted over them, lifting Jenna’s hair off her neck. Slade took her hand as they approached the Widow’s Walk. “I’ve always loved the Widow’s Walk.” Jenna stopped for a moment, gazing at the intricate structure. Unnoticeable from this side, an actual widow’s walk graced the sea-facing wall. “Me, too. It’s been in my family for four generations now.” “But you have hundreds of hotels all over the world.” Jenna glanced at him. “Are you telling me this hotel is your 23

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favorite?” “Yes. This is the only one that’s special. I like things that are unlike any other.” Jenna smiled. “Me too.” They walked on in companionable silence, clasped hands swinging gently between them. When they arrived back at her house, Slade walked her to her door, anxious to comply with the kissing rule. Jenna’s key scraped against the metal tumblers before they slid open with a clink. Holding the doorknob with one hand, she twisted to face him. He leaned forward slightly, his lids half-closing. “Goodnight, Slade. Thanks for dinner.” She moved as stealthily as a gazelle and Slade found his nose bumping against the glass pane in the door rather than Jenna’s silky smooth skin. So much for kissing her on the first date dictum.

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CHAPTER 3 Rule number seven: Avoid allowing a gentleman to accompany you or call on you more than once a week. This makes him think you are much sought after. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever read.” Amy slung the book into the corner. “Hey! Careful. It’s old.” Jenna retrieved the millionaire guide, running her hands lovingly over it. “I think it’s precious.” Hope’s eyes sparkled with a young girl’s dreams of romance. Jenna glared at her sisters. She didn’t remember asking their opinions. “Why would you set out to trick a man into marrying 25

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you?” Amy frowned, her short, dark hair added a pixie-ish quality to her delicate features. Jenna shrugged. She wasn’t about to tell them it was so she could keep the store running. Besides, her motives on that seemed to be blurred now. She had wanted Slade Walker for as long as she could remember. Why not give it a shot? “She’s always had a crush on Slade.” Hope grinned. Her hair was cut in a short bob angled to brush her jaw. “It must be true love.” “Give it a rest, Hopie. There’s no such thing as true love.” Amy batted her thick lashes, mocking the whole concept. “You’re a cynic, Ames. That’s your problem.” Hope threw a hunter-green, oval pillow at Amy’s head. Jenna laughed. “You two stop it. You’re adults now. Quit acting like children.” “Amy knows I love her.” Hope threw a grin Amy’s way. “Pessimism and all.” Amy let out a gush of disgusted air. Jenna watched the two girls. Alike enough in appearance to be twins. So totally different in personalities. Yet each had her own strengths. Amy was unfailingly down-to-earth and practical. Hope was the eternal optimist. The phone pealed and the two younger McBay sisters wrestled each other to get to it first. Amy grasped the receiver, pushing Hope back with an outstretched arm. “Hello? You want to speak to Jenna?” Jenna groaned. Amy didn’t have to act as if it was a rare occurrence for anyone to be asking for her. 26

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“Hang on a sec.” Amy placed a hand over the mouthpiece. “It’s Slade.” Jenna started for the phone, before stopping herself. The rules in the book all centered on playing hard to get. Pretending you were unattainable and that many men wanted you. Would she really be at home on a Saturday evening if that were the case? “Tell him I’m out,” Jenna said decisively. “But you aren’t,” Amy said, her jaw jutting out in tenacity. Jenna rolled her eyes. “I’ll go out front.” Amy curled her lip in disgust. Hope grinned and winked at her. Jenna made her way outside and settled onto the front stoop. The tang of salt was woven through the slight breeze that ruffled the hair at her temples. Jenna closed her eyes and drew deep, renewing breaths of the age-old elements of wind and sea. Was it horrible of her to use the tactics in the book to try to procure a marriage proposal from Slade? She hadn’t lied or tried to make herself appear more than what she was. Perhaps she should forget the book. Otherwise, how would she ever know if he loved her for herself or because of some strange magic? Love? Jenna gave a short, sharp laugh. She didn’t have time for love. She needed cash. Slade had it. End of story. Love was a luxury she couldn’t afford. *

* 27

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Slade paced the red ceramic tiles in the kitchen. Where had she been? He’d tried to reach Jenna all weekend. Her sisters had claimed to take his messages, but she hadn’t returned his calls. He lifted Find Ms. Right in one hand, glaring at it. “A lot of help you are.” He sighed. His sister had taken Emily back to Woodside for a few days. He’d confided his plans to find a wife to Chloe, and she’d thought it was the perfect solution. A slow grin lifted the corners of his mouth. She’d also taken great pains to point out what a perfect choice Jenna McBay was. Hooking a chair with his foot, he pulled it away from the table and collapsed into it. He flipped open the book, and thumbed through the advice. Rule number three: Rarely call. If she asks you to call her, you may call. But only once. Let her wonder what else you are doing. Women love a challenge. Slade groaned. How had he missed that rule? This was harder than it had first appeared. He’d been calling at least once a day. He flipped through the book quickly. Rule number five: Ask to see her frequently. The more she dates you, the quicker the relationship will grow serious. Slade grinned. Maybe he should drop by The Tome Home. He needed a book anyway. A book on… Well, he would figure that out before he got there. When he arrived at the bookstore, Jenna was at the counter, her head bent over a book. Her midnight hair had 28

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fallen forward, concealing her face. Pausing just inside the doorway, he closed the door with a soft whoosh. Jenna was so involved in whatever she was reading, she never glanced up. He took the opportunity to study her. She wore a lilac dress with a delicate floral print. The dress was sweet and feminine, and made him think of lazy summer days. He could picture the two of them sitting on a front porch swing. Emily playing at their feet. He heard her giggle at something she was reading. He inched closer, curiosity getting the better of him. It appeared to be an old book, the pages slightly frayed and yellowed. “What’re you reading?” Jenna’s head jerked up, her violet eyes widening. She grabbed the book and shoved it under the counter, a deep flush rushing up her throat and settling on her cheeks. “That good?” Slade moved to the counter and leaned casually against it. Jenna cleared her throat delicately. “Slade, what are you doing here?” Her voice cracked. What had she been reading? A romance novel no doubt. Didn’t women love those things? “I need a book.” Jenna laughed, the sound splashed over Slade, warming him. “You’ve come to the right place. What kind of book?” “A cookbook.” He had thought this out. He would buy a cookbook, get her on the subject of cooking, and offer to have her over for dinner. 29

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“Follow me.” Jenna headed for the back of the store, her gently curved hips swaying slightly. She stopped in front of a neatly displayed section of cookbooks. “I’m just learning to cook.” He smiled at her. “Would you like to come over for dinner tonight and be my guinea pig?” Jenna smiled, but then seemed to step back and take stock of the situation. Her eyes glazed over slightly and she moved her lips the tiniest bit as if reciting a mantra. *

*

*

Rule number seven, Jenna. Avoid allowing him to call on you more than once a week. She kept repeating it, until the urge to accept his appealing invitation passed. If she played her cards right, she could have a lifetime of dinners. “I’m sorry, Slade. I have plans.” Yeah, she needed to clean out her freezer. But he didn’t need to know that. “Tomorrow then?” His green gaze was steady, hypnotic. It would be easy to just forget the rules in the book and give in to the desire to spend more time with him. She gave herself a firm mental shake. The rules were working. Now wasn’t the time to give up. ”I’m really booked up this week.” Now, he’d ask her out for the next week, according to the book. “Okay. Well, guess I’d better go.” He stalked back to the counter and Jenna trailed after him. She suspected this wasn’t exactly the way things were supposed to go. He should have suggested another night. 30

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Slade paid for his purchase, bid her goodbye and left. His shoulders were held stiffly as he propelled himself out the front door. Percy jumped onto the counter, pushing his glossy head against Jenna’s arm. Jenna stroked between his ears, eliciting a deep rumbling purr. “Percy, did I just mess up? I did exactly what the book said.” Percy tilted his head to the side and meowed. Jenna laughed. “And if I could understand meow-ese, I’m sure you just gave me great advice.” She pulled the book back out from under the counter. Maybe it had a troubleshooting section. *

*

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Jenna and her sisters were clearing off the dinner table when the phone rang. “Are you home tonight?” Amy put her hands on her hips. “Tonight I am definitely home.” “I’ll get it.” Hope rushed for the phone. “I will not be a part of this anymore, Jenna,” Amy began to lecture. Jenna sighed. Amy was her junior by almost six years. But lately, Amy acted as if she was the eldest sister and Jenna was a child. Maybe it was a mistake not to let her sisters in on their financial troubles. She just didn’t want to worry them. Amy was deciding whether or not to start college next fall, and Hope was finishing high school. This was supposed to be a 31

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fun time in their lives. “It’s him,” Hope whispered, holding the phone out to Jenna. Jenna wiped her hands on her slacks before taking the phone from her sister. She paused and counted to twenty before cradling the receiver to her ear. “Hello?” “Jenna, it’s Slade. I wanted to have you over for dinner. What night is good for you?” Jenna closed her eyes. The book worked! It really truly worked. She was so excited she wanted to lay the phone down and do a reel around the living room. “Friday is open.” “Friday at seven?” Jenna paused. Rule number five: Pause ten seconds. “Seven is fine.” “Great. See you then.” Jenna hung up the phone. “Well?” Hope demanded. “He’s having me over for dinner.” Jenna threw a triumphant grin at them. “He’s out of your league, Jenna.” Amy sniffed. “He’ll have you for dinner all right.” “Lay off, Ames. Jenna knows what she’s doing.” Hope threw a searing glance toward Amy. “The book works.” Jenna giggled. “What are you going to do with that trunk full of dusty, old books?” Amy asked. “If you want money so badly, why don’t you sell them? They must be worth something.” “Because Aunt Madge left them to me. It wouldn’t be right 32

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to sell them. They’ve been in the family for generations. Although, I might offer to let some of my friends read them just for fun.” “What is that nonsense on the lid of that trunk anyway?” Amy flung herself into the burgundy recliner in the corner. “He who reads these tomes will find the miracle of love,” Hope dreamily recited the etching. “Miracle of money anyway.” Amy crossed her arms over her chest. “What’s your problem?” “I don’t have a problem, Hopie. I just think Jenna can do better.” “You don’t like Slade, Amy?” Jenna frowned. That could be a definite problem. She couldn’t marry Slade if Amy didn’t like him. She still felt responsible for her sisters, even thought they were practically grown. It was her job to make sure they always had a secure home to return to. “I don’t dislike him personally. I don’t care for the playboy type is all.” “If it doesn’t bother me, why should it bother you?” But it did bother Jenna. The thought of competing with all of those gorgeous models left her mouth dry. She couldn’t begin to measure up. She was just plain Jenna. Kind of pretty maybe, but she would never grace the covers of a glossy magazine. Why did Slade bother with her at all? Was it more of a friendship? They had known one another in school. It was inevitable in a town of roughly three thousand that they would be acquainted. 33

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“Don’t worry, Jenna.” Hope laid a hand on her arm. “It will all work out. You’ll see.” Jenna smiled, put her hand on Hope’s and squeezed gently. “You’re such an optimist, Hope.” “Why be a pessimist? You can’t change the course of Fate. Might as well expect the best.” Jenna let Hope’s words sink into her subconscious. She couldn’t change the course of Fate. But what was Fate planning for her and Slade? *

*

*

Smoke poured out of the oven. Slade dashed to the appliance and yanked the door open. Black tendrils curled through the air, the acrid scent of scorched chicken choked him. Using a thick dish towel, he pulled the blackened mess from the scalding interior and banged it into the sink. Now what? He’d burnt the rolls, incinerated the chicken and his mashed potatoes looked like papier mâché. He glanced at the digital clock on the stove. Ten minutes until seven—too late to try to cook something else. Not that he wanted to attempt it anyway. So much for rule number six: Impress her with your domesticity. Women love a man who helps around the house. Shows you’re good husband material. He would make an impression, just not the one he wanted. The red lights on the nursery monitor flickered wildly. Emily let out a piercing wail. Nap time was over. Slade 34

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flipped the oven to the off position and jogged upstairs. Emily was flailing her arms and legs, her tiny face puckered into a frown. “Hello, darlin’. Did you have a good nap?” The tears dried instantly, a huge grin slowly replacing the frown. She kicked her legs and gurgled. “Daddy messed up dinner. Do you think Jenna will want us now?” He picked her up and hugged her to him. “How could she not want you?” Emily laughed as if sharing a joke. Slade kissed the top of her downy head before changing her damp diaper. When the child was happy, she was deliriously happy. He wished he knew how to help her overcome these crying fits. He didn’t know what else to do for her. The doctors had said they could find nothing wrong and she would outgrow it. He hoped it would be soon. If his daughter would just be happy and easy tonight, he would be forever thankful. The doorbell pealed through the house and he felt his heart thud harder. Jenna. He sprinkled a dab of baby powder on Emily and lifted her into his arms. When he reached the front door, he paused for a minute. “Best behavior, Emily. We’re trying to get you a mommy, remember.” Emily grinned at him. Pulling the door open, he pasted a smile on his face. “Hi.” Jenna was wearing faded jeans and a peach blouse with a sweetheart neckline. She’d pulled her long hair up in a ponytail. Fresh and vibrant were the words that came to him. 35

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“Hi, Slade.” She stepped in and sniffed, wrinkling her nose. Slade could feel the flush spreading over his face. “I guess I’m not as good a cook as I thought.” Jenna laughed. “That’s okay. At least you tried.” What a woman. She wasn’t even going to get aggravated over a lost dinner. “Hi.” Jenna shook his daughter’s tiny hand. Emily squirmed in his arms, leaning over and reaching for Jenna. “This is Emily. I think she likes you.” Slade studied her face for a reaction. Jenna smiled brightly, her arms coming up to reach for Emily. Then a shutter fell over her face and her arms dropped. She looked away uneasily and shrugged. Displeasure stamped a brand on Slade’s heart. If she didn’t like Emily, they might as well end the date now. He had made a commitment to be a parent. Emily’s welfare, both emotional and physical, was his concern until she was grown. Even then, he’d always be here for her. He decided to try once more. “Would you like to hold her?” Emily was still reaching for Jenna. A softness filled Jenna’s eyes and her arms came up of their own accord, reaching for his child. She settled Emily on her hip, stroking a finger down a rosy cheek. Slade smiled, relieved. The two of them looked quite natural together. Jenna chattered some nonsense to Emily, who laughed and 36

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babbled back. “Why don’t we go to Pizza Shack and grab our dinner?” “Sounds good to me.” Jenna smiled. “I’ll just run and get the diaper bag and we can go.” “Let’s walk. It’s a beautiful night.” Slade whistled as he collected a few things for Emily. He ran into his room to dash on some cologne. Find Ms. Right was laying face down on the night stand. He glanced toward the door. Maybe he should refer to it to be sure he was doing everything right. He turned it over. Rule number seven: Avoid introducing her to family until after the engagement. If you have children, they can sometimes scare a woman off. Slade groaned. He should have finished reading this book last night. Well, he would just have to make the best of it.

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CHAPTER 4 Town gossip and laughter vibrated through the Pizza Shack. Jenna carried Emily, as Slade dragged an enormous, overflowing diaper bag to a secluded corner booth. Bottles. Diapers. Wet wipes. Thermometer. Slade carried a minidrugstore in that oversized satchel. Jenna didn’t have the heart to tell him he didn’t need half the items in there. “Here you go, Emily.” Jenna deposited her in a wooden high chair. The baby reached for a candle flickering in a holder shaped like a ripe tomato. Jenna laughed, gently nudging the candleholder out of Emily’s curious grasp. “No. Hurt the baby.” Emily gurgled and pulled at the red plaid tablecloth. 38

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Slade quickly rescued the material from the baby’s determined grip and slid into the booth, opposite Jenna. “Sorry. Maybe I should’ve looked for a sitter.” “It’s okay.” Jenna ran a hand over infant’s cap of sable hair. “She’s just curious.” Jenna ached to hug Emily close to her and smell the fresh baby scent of her. But the book had said not to show much interest in starting a family. Cuddling and making a fuss over a baby would violate rule number three. She only half paid attention as she struggled with her own inner nature against snatching Emily into her arms and hugging her tight. She needed to focus more on Slade if she intended to make an impression on this date. Jenna leaned forward slightly, gazing into his eyes. “Tell me about the renovations to the Widow’s Walk.” “They’re standard. The widow’s walk has to be repaired every three or four years and we’re painting because the salt water eats the paint away from the clapboard siding.” “I’d love to stay there some time.” Jenna sighed. She’d always loved the old hotel with its jutting angles. It had fueled more than one girlish fantasy. “Maybe you will someday.” Slade glanced away from her as he said it. Jenna wondered what the big mystery was. If she ever had an extra few hundred dollars, and no bills due, she would spend a weekend there. Emily let out a boisterous wail, turning several heads at nearby tables. Jenna reached for her at the same moment Slade 39

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did. Their arms brushed. A shock of awareness shimmered through every cell in her body. As a gleam of responsiveness flickered out of his green eyes, her heart turned over in response. She quickly jerked back. Slade lifted his daughter into his arms and patted her back. Their gazes were still locked and Jenna looked away uncomfortably. “It’s okay, punkin.” His deep voice was husky. Jenna swallowed. The sight of his tenderness with Emily set off a longing for the same treatment. What if his hands caressed her back and ran lightly over her arms? She swallowed several times. Her throat had gone suddenly dry. Emily’s wails had grown increasingly louder. “Is she all right?” Jenna frowned. “Maybe she’s hungry.” Jenna grabbed the diaper bag and pulled free a bottle of water. “There’s a can of powdered formula.” Slade bounced Emily in a rocking motion. “Add three level scoops and shake it up.” Jenna located the bright yellow can and popped the plastic lid off. Fine cream-colored powder spilled out over the table and on Jenna. Emily’s face turned beet red and she drew her tiny legs up to her chest. Her wails were earsplitting. Jenna shakily measured out the formula, shook it and handed the bottle to Slade. He gracefully rotated Emily into a cradling position and 40

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gave her the bottle. Tiny baby hands reached out to clasp the bottle and she began sucking greedily. Jenna breathed a sigh of relief. “Does she always act like that when she’s hungry?” Slade looked at her uneasily. “Usually.” “I think I’d keep premixed bottles on hand.” “Well, I’d have to refrigerate them and cold bottles make Emily throw one of her—” Slade broke off and cleared his throat. Jenna opened her mouth to ask him what chilled formula did to Emily, when the child flung the bottle from her. It clattered to the reddish-brown tile floor, spinning around like a top. Drawing her legs up again, she screamed. “Guess she wasn’t hungry.” Jenna watched in fascination as Slade tried to retrieve the bottle while he comforted Emily. “The nipple isn’t working.” Slade tried to juggle Emily and clear the clogged openings of the bottle at the same time. Finally, a fresh lid in place and the liquid flowing again, he popped the bottle back into his daughter’s mouth. Emily took two sips, drew her legs up, flailed her arms and slung the bottle even further. It rolled under a nearby table, where a man stooped over, retrieved it and brought it back to them. “Maybe her diaper.” Slade grabbed the diaper bag, his cheeks a dull red. “I’ll be right back.” “Okay.” Jenna watched the pair disappear around the corner. This had to be the most interesting date she’d ever been 41

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on. Burnt dinner. Crying baby. And pizza. She chuckled softly. *

*

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Slade pulled the plastic changing pad from the diaper bag, laid it carefully on the sink counter and placed Emily on it. He deftly changed her diaper. “Help me out here, kiddo.” Emily stopped crying and looked up at him with redrimmed hazel eyes. “Why would she want to marry us with you wailing like that?” A tiny raindrop-shaped tear slipped out of the corner of Emily’s eye and down her cheek. Slade refastened her pink one-piece jumper and picked her up. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m crazy about you. But we have to win Jenna over. We have to show her how lovable we can be so she’ll want to marry us.” The soft clearing of a throat startled Slade. He spun around. “What are you up to, old boy?” A tall hulk of a man leaned against the wall, blond hair flopping onto his forehead, a devilish grin on his boy next door features. Slade almost groaned. Thatcher Tyson. His nemesis in high school. Thatcher had always seemed to be one step ahead of him. A tenth of a point higher on grade point average. A millisecond faster on the track. A day early asking a girl to the prom. 42

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“Thatch, how you been?” Slade shifted Emily to his opposite shoulder. “Better than you, it looks like.” Thatcher grinned, showing deep grooves in either cheek. Slade still hadn’t forgiven Thatcher for getting a football scholarship to the University of Alabama. U of A had been Slade’s first choice. During a family reunion in Alabama, his father had taken him to a football game. He’d been nine and he’d been a fan of the Crimson Tide ever since. The game the U of A scout had visited, Thatch had been in top form and Slade had been distracted. “Meet Emily.” He pressed a soft kiss onto the top of his daughter’s head. “Hi, Emily.” Thatcher reached over and shook Emily’s hand, engulfing it in his big, tanned one. “What are you doing in town, Thatch?” And when are you leaving? Soon, Slade hoped. “Taking a break from football.” Thatcher’s lip curled in disgust. “I take it not by choice?” He remembered a game a couple of months back where Thatch had injured his knee. Slade had groaned with almost shared pain as Thatch had limped off the field, remembering the burning, tearing sensation of an injured knee from his own playing days. Seeing Thatch brought forward a lot of might-have-beens. Had he not been heir to Walker Industries—if Miracles Landing hadn’t called him back after college—he might have gone on to play football professionally. He’d been just as 43

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dexterous as Thatch. “No way. But if I have to take a break, I can’t think of a better place to do it.” Thatcher glanced away and cleared his throat. This was awkward. They’d never really been friends. Slade was holding Emily like a shield as they exchanged polite chitchat in the men’s room. It was time to get back to Jenna. “It was nice seeing you. I need to get back to my date.” Slade gathered Emily’s diaper bag and started for the door. “Who’s your date?” Thatcher demanded. Slade stiffened. Thatch had always thrived on challenges. Jenna was definitely a challenge. “None of your business.” He slammed through the door. “Afraid of a little competition?” Thatch’s words taunted all the way back to the table. Slade slid into the booth. “Sorry it took so long.” Jenna smiled sweetly. “That’s okay. Want me to hold Emily while you eat?” Emily scrunched up her face and let out another sob, ending on a hiccup. “Maybe we should get this to go,” Slade suggested, glancing over his shoulder. And maybe they could get out of here before Thatcher Tyson spotted Jenna and decided to make a play for her. “Okay.” Did she sound disappointed? He signaled to their waiter to box the food. 44

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“Sure you don’t mind?” He reached a hand across the table and squeezed her fingers. “Not at all. I think Emily will be more comfortable at home.” Jenna turned her palm face up and twined her fingers with his for a moment. “Well, isn’t this the cozy, little family scene?” a sardonic voice drawled. Jenna frowned and looked up. “Thatcher? Thatcher Tyson.” She gave a yelp of delight and leapt to her feet, throwing herself into his arms. Slade’s fists clenched. What he wouldn’t give to bash in the smug smile Thatch was giving him over Jenna’s shoulder. “When did you get home?” “Earlier today. I was going to stop by and see you girls later tonight. Old Slade saved me a trip…this time.” The last two words were added for his benefit, Slade didn’t doubt. He glared at Thatch. Why was Jenna still gripping the man’s beefed up biceps? If she was that interested in the guy, she could darn well date him. “Come see us tomorrow. Amy and Hope will be thrilled to see you.” She could barely seem to make time for him, but Thatcher got an invitation to her house? If Slade had wondered about her attraction to him before, there would be no point now. If she cared for him, she would make a fuss over him and not Thatch. He was done. Finished. Ridiculous to think he could find the perfect woman through a book. What had he been 45

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thinking? He and Emily would get through this nanny situation. They’d done pretty good so far just the two of them. “Ready, Jenna?” Slade stood abruptly, grabbing the box their waiter had discreetly slid onto the table. “What?” She turned to him with a dazed look. She must have forgotten who she’d come with. Slade shifted Emily’s weight. “Yes…of course. I’ll see you tomorrow, Thatch.” “Looking forward to it, baby.” Thatch leaned over and placed a kiss on the tip of her nose. Jenna giggled. Slade said a stiff goodbye to Thatch, and stomped out the front door. Jenna glanced at him a couple of times. “Emily seems to be better now.” Her voice was a little shaky. “Yes.” Adrenaline coursed through his veins. He wanted to grab her and kiss her; brand the imprint of his mouth on her so she’d never even consider Thatcher as a possible suitor. “Does she sleep at night?” “Sometimes.” Slade forced himself to slow his pace. His anger was like a shooting star. It burned brightly for a moment, but soon exhausted itself. The slower he walked, the more time he’d have with Jenna. It isn’t too late, a voice inside bellowed. He took a deep breath. Until Jenna married someone else or told him she wasn’t interested in him, it wasn’t too late. “If I can get her settled for bed, will you stay and help me eat this pizza?” 46

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Jenna let out a gust of air. Had she been holding her breath? He knew she’d sensed his anger. It wasn’t like her to chatter incessantly, yet she had from the moment they’d left the Pizza Shack. Slade wondered if she had any idea why he’d been angry. The sight of her flinging herself exuberantly into Thatch’s arms was burned on his retina. “I’d love to, Slade.” She smiled and hooked an arm through his, patting Emily on the head with her other hand. He felt a sudden lightening. All was not lost. Perhaps he’d mistaken her reaction to Thatcher. After all, she hadn’t seen him in years. Hadn’t Thatch’s father and Jenna’s father been close friends? Maybe that’s all it was. She was happy to see an old family friend. Emily was asleep before they reached the house. Slade gently laid her in her crib and tiptoed out of the room. “Please, let her sleep until Jenna leaves,” he prayed softly. Jenna had kicked off her shoes and curled up in an armchair. She was trying to hold a drooping piece of pizza. Slade laughed. Jenna grinned at him. “It’s messy. Sorry. I couldn’t wait anymore.” He settled onto the sofa and scooped a piece of pizza out of the cardboard box. “I’m starved too. Parenting is hard work.” He grimaced and glanced at her. He shouldn’t have said that. But Jenna seemed oblivious to his statement. She bit into 47

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the end of the slice, closing her eyes and moaning. The rosy tip of her tongue flicked out to capture some tomato sauce that clung to the corner of her mouth. “Delicious.” “Do you always enjoy your food that much?” He watched a slow flush climb her cheeks. “Only pizza.” She took another bite. “And lobster.” “It’s charming.” “The way I eat pizza?” She looked at him doubtfully. He wished he was a poet. If only he had some pretty words to offer her, entice her with. He’d never had to work at interesting a woman. Most of them had thrown themselves at him, including Bridgett. Jenna was different. He suspected Jenna would never coldbloodedly sell her child off the way Bridgett had. “Would you like some coffee?” Slade asked when they finished eating. Jenna looked at him, moving her lips slightly. He focused on the pink flesh. What was she saying? She was reciting something. No doubt about that. But what? It sounded almost like a chant. “I really can’t. I need to get home,” Jenna said. Slade was irked by her frigid, aloof demeanor. One minute she was warm; the next she was Ms. Cold Shoulder. He shrugged. Figuring her out was impossible. “I’ll walk you to the door.” “I want to thank you for dinner.” Jenna turned as they reached the foyer. 48

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Slade laughed nervously. “It wasn’t the romantic dinner I had planned.” “It was nice. I enjoyed it.” Jenna looked away, turning slightly toward the door. Now! It was time to make his move, if he wanted to follow rule number four: Always kiss Ms. Right on the first date. He was already one date behind. He gently grasped her shoulders and pulled her toward him, lowering his head to hers. *

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Rule number four: Never let him kiss you for the first month. The words flashed through Jenna’s brain as Slade’s warm lips captured hers. He tenderly ministered to first her lower lip, then her upper one. Jenna groaned. The book was outdated. Centuries old. Perhaps it’s okay to stretch this one rule to the second date instead of for the first month. Yes. She was certain it would still work. She pressed herself closer to Slade, relaxing into the kiss. He brought his arms more fully around her, running the knuckles of one hand up and down the groove in her spine. Jenna gasped. Taking advantage of her relaxed jaw, he deepened the kiss. Jenna’s arms came up and tangled in the silky hair at his collar. Blood pounded through her veins, made her skin tingle and her knees tremble. She pressed closer to him, compelled by 49

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the gentle passion in his touch. Cool air hit her when Slade pulled back, shocking her into awareness. “Goodnight, Jenna.” Jenna’s eyes slowly came back into focus. Odd. Usually she was the one who had to end a kiss. Slade had gently disengaged himself from her arms and opened the front door before she’d fully come out of the passionate haze he’d engulfed her in. Had he not enjoyed their kiss? Obviously not. He was more than ready to get rid of her. “Goodnight.” Jenna held her head high and stepped out the door. Her face flushed with embarrassment and anger at herself. She wouldn’t stay where she wasn’t wanted. And she certainly wouldn’t beg for Slade’s kisses. Jenna reached her car, and glanced back over her shoulder. He leaned against the doorway. Making sure she got to her car safely? They rarely had crime in Miracles Landing. More likely he was making sure she left. He couldn’t wait to be rid of her. He gave her a nonchalant wave as she started her engine. Jenna glared at him and pulled out. If he wasn’t interested, why did he keep asking her out?

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CHAPTER 5 Slade took deep, fortifying breaths. Ending the kiss with Jenna had been one of the hardest things he’d ever done. He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. Rule number four dictated that you try to kiss Ms. Right to show your interest, but not take it any further. He clenched his jaw. He was starting to think the best place for that book would be in the bottom of his fireplace. He’d always rushed relationships in the past and been left feeling empty and hollow. After Emily’s mother, he’d promised himself and God that he’d take his time and wait for marriage. His thoughts were halted when Emily let out a wail of protest at waking up alone. He put his doubts aside and sped 51

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up the stairs. Upon spotting him, Emily’s sobs stopped, and a wide toothless grin appeared. “What’s the matter, sweetheart?” Slade picked her up and Emily snuggled into his chest. He laid his cheek on top of her head, his heart clenching with love for this tiny creature. He bounced her gently on his way to the large, pine rocker in the corner. “Dinner was a disaster. We’ll be lucky if she ever accepts another date with me.” Disappointment swelled in him like a rising breaker. He’d let his daughter down. Emily gurgled, leaning back to look at his face. “I’m pretty sure she was angry when she left. She slammed her car door hard enough to wake the neighborhood.” “Da-da-da.” Emily patted his cheeks with her tiny hands. “I’ll call her tomorrow, Emily. Ask her for another date before she has time to think about it too much.” He swallowed hard. Emily was counting on him, even if she wasn’t old enough to know it. He couldn’t let her down. Emily cooed and snuggled back against him, her breathing deepened and her tiny form relaxed. Slade carefully rose from the chair and placed her in the white wood crib. He watched the gentle rise and fall of her chest for a moment. He wanted the best for his daughter. Jenna was the best. She was smart and down to earth. And despite her obvious reservations, he could tell she loved babies. Now, he just had to make her love his baby. 52

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Time to read some more rules in Find Ms. Right. He retrieved the book from his night stand and settled back against cool, satin-covered pillows. Rule number seven: Call her at the last minute. Let her think you’re busy and just happened to find time in your busy schedule for her. *

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Jenna finished buttoning her dress and brushed her hair back into a smooth ponytail/chignon, securing it at her nape. She glared at the book lying on her dresser. “You aren’t working. He isn’t all that interested.” The book sat on the marble top, letters glaring out from the faded red color. How to Wed a Man of Means. Unable to help herself, Jenna moved to the book. She picked it up gingerly. It fell open to rule number two: Don’t accept a date that isn’t at least three days in advance. Well, since Slade probably wouldn’t be asking her out anymore, that rule didn’t apply. Jenna’s lips twisted in regret and self-recrimination. She’d messed up. Made too many mistakes. Went against the book by allowing that kiss. “Jenna!” Hope scurried into Jenna’s bedroom, her cheeks flushed with excitement. “What is it, Hopie?” “Slade’s on the phone. Come quick.” Jenna rolled her eyes. Hope was too romantic for her own good. “I’ll be there in a few minutes.” Jenna tried to keep her 53

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voice calm. Her mind was racing and she compelled it to slow down to an acceptable speed. She would follow the book’s advice this time. Play hard to get. But he’d called! He hadn’t lost interest yet. She hugged the book to her. “A few minutes!” Hope screeched. “That’s too long.” “I know what I’m doing, Hope.” “I wonder.” Hope turned and stomped from the room. Jenna forced herself to count to a hundred before picking up the phone. “Hello.” “Hi, Jenna. My schedule is free this afternoon. Want to go see a movie?” His voice sounded light, carefree. His schedule was free? Jenna felt a burst of annoyance. What did that mean? That he found himself without anything better to do than call her? She didn’t care to be his better-thannothing option. “I’m sorry. I’m busy.” There! That should show him she didn’t have to be anyone’s last choice. She could have gone out with Slade. Had she chosen. Had he asked her with a little more eagerness. The phone line whirred softly, silence coming from Slade’s end. Jenna chewed on her lower lip. Perhaps she’d been a bit too abrupt with him. “Forever? Or just today?” Jenna laughed. “Just today.” Taking the book with her, she flung herself—stomach down—across the floral comforter on her bed. She flipped gently through the frail pages, trying to make sure she hadn’t 54

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missed an important rule. This was getting confusing to keep track of. Too many rules, so little deviousness in her. “Okay. Let’s go out tomorrow.” Did he sound slightly panicked? Jenna frowned. She wanted to be a challenge, not an apprehension. Still, she was determined to abide by the book and follow the three-day rule. “I’m booked up until Wednesday, I’m afraid.” Jenna held her breath. What if he decided she was more trouble than she was worth? “Wednesday sounds wonderful. What time can I pick you up?” She released her pent-up breath in a soft gasp. Closing the book, she lifted it to her lips and pressed a soft, thankful kiss on its surface. “The store closes at five. Why don’t you meet me there?” Jenna squeezed the book to her and flipped over onto her back, cradling the phone with her other hand. “I’m looking forward to it.” His voice was a lazy summer day. Warm and soothing. Jenna replaced the phone. This was the third date. She smiled. She had held his interest for nearly three weeks. The book was working. She would be the bride of Slade Walker. Exhilaration swept through Jenna. Feeling giddy and youthful, she danced to her feet and spun around the room, collapsing dizzily back onto the bed. Mrs. Slade Walker. She could hardly wait. *

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Rule number eight: Try to put the relationship on more intimate terms. Find out her views on issues, her likes and dislikes. Share your innermost thoughts and she will open up, too. “Sounds like good advice to me.” Chloe snapped the book shut and tossed it onto the thick oak dining table. “I don’t know, sis. So far Jenna is pretty cold toward me. I wonder if she’s even a little interested. Maybe she just sees me as a friend.” Slade grabbed a handful of baby wipes and scrubbed some of the gooey cereal off Emily’s upturned nose. “Sees you as a friend? I doubt it.” Chloe shook her head, chestnut waves bouncing. Lifting Emily from her high chair, Slade moved toward the double French doors on the far wall of the kitchen. “Want to go out on the patio for a little while, Emily?” Chloe followed him. “You’ve never had a self-esteem problem, Slade. What’s the deal? Why now?” His daughter squealed happily as he pulled the door open and a cool, salty breeze brushed over them. “There’s something different about Jenna.” He stopped, powerless to find words to describe Jenna McBay. “Uh-oh. Big brother’s got it bad.” Chloe laughed and settled herself into a wooden deck chair. Slade turned his gaze from the waves gently lapping onto the beach below them and glared at her. “I do not have it bad. Jenna would make a good wife and mother. She’s the perfect candidate.” Chloe laughed. “You really believe you can confine love 56

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to such narrow parameters? You really think it isn’t smart enough to sneak up on you and strike you down? You’ve got a lot to learn.” Slade glanced at his watch, feeling restless and irritable at his sister’s suggestion. “I need to get going. We’ll finish this conversation later.” “Forget finishing it later. I’ll make you a little wager. I’ll bet you that you’re so madly in love with Jenna McBay before the year is out you’ll be begging for my advice.” “You think so?” Slade stood and shifted Emily to one hip. “I’ll bet you that not only do I not ask for one word of advice, but that Jenna agrees to marry me within the next two months.” “You’re on.” His sister jumped to her feet and snatched Emily out of his arms. “If I win, I get to keep Emily for a whole week.” Slade groaned. Chloe knew how he hated to be separated from his child for longer than a few hours. “If I win, you get to keep Emily for a week.” Chloe grinned. “I don’t get it. I win either way?” “A week, while I go on my honeymoon.” Slade grinned. Chloe gave a mock grumble. “You’re no fun. You made the stakes too easy.” “I’m off to get on a more intimate footing with Jenna. Thanks for babysitting, sis.” Slade dropped a kiss on the top of Emily’s head, and one on Chloe’s cheek. He whistled all the way to the bookstore. Things definitely looked promising. 57

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Jenna touched up her lipstick in the hand-held mirror she kept under the counter. “Percy, should I take the book’s advice still? It seems really silly to me, but it hasn’t failed me so far.” Percy cocked his head sideways, twitched a black ear and purred. “Lot of help you are.” Jenna pulled the book from the bottom shelf and laid it open on the counter. Rule number nine: How to converse with a gentleman: Agree with everything your caller says. Offer little of your own input. Gentlemen love to talk about themselves. Appropriate responses are “Really?” and “That’s fascinating.” Percy leapt to the counter and waltzed across the open book, sprawling himself comfortably across its pages. “Percy, get up!” Jenna gave him a gentle nudge, but the animal only stretched to his full length and laid his head on his paws. Jenna glanced at the clock nervously. Six minutes until five. Slade would be here any minute. She needed to have the book out of site before he arrived. “Kitty, kitty.” Jenna walked to a spot a few feet from the counter, leaned over and rubbed her thumb and forefinger together. “Come on, Percy. Good kitty.” “Meow.” Percy blinked his eyes, his whiskers pulling back in a feline parody of a smile. Jenna glanced at the clock again. Four minutes until five. What was she going to do? She hesitated to just pick Percy up. 58

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If she startled him, he might dig his back claws in and damage the book. The very expensive, antique book. Jenna groaned. She’d been carrying it around with her, treating it like a library book. And if the advice in that book didn’t work, she might very well have to sell it or risk losing the store altogether. If the advice didn’t work after the hoops she’d been jumping through, she would be happy to see the last of that red book jacket. She pushed away the thought she’d be too heartbroken to do anything, much less sell a book. “Please, Percy.” Percy rolled over on his back, still half-sprawled on the book. “I’ll give you some yum-yum kitty treats.” Percy yawned. “A bowl of milk?” He flicked his tail. “A can of tuna?” The bell over the door jingled. Jenna didn’t need to look to know who it was. The pleasing scent of lime aftershave floated across the three feet separating her and the door. “Are you talking to that cat again?” Slade sounded amused. “Hi, Percy.” Jenna bit back a scream as Slade crossed the room and scooped the cat into his powerful arms. Cradling him gently, he stroked Percy under the chin. Percy closed his eyes contentedly, his throat echoing hollowly. Slade walked back toward her. He hadn’t even glanced at 59

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the book Percy had been laying on. Her legs felt so unsteady, she was certain they wouldn’t hold her upright. Taking Slade’s arm, she tugged him toward the door. “I’m ready if you are.” “Don’t you have to close up or something?” He frowned. Jenna shook her head so furiously a few wisps escaped from her neat bun and flew into her eyes. She tucked them back into place. She needed to calm down. He didn’t suspect anything. The book was still a secret. There was nothing to get so distressed about. “I just need to turn the sign around to CLOSED and lock the door.” Slade sat Percy on the floor and gave him a final pat on the head. “’Night, Percy.” Jenna locked up quickly, allowing herself to take only a full breath when the book was locked up safely with a glass door separating them from the old volume of advice. “You hungry?” Slade asked. “A little.” If she could get her stomach to quit doing flipflops. She’d been terrified he would see the book. “I thought we might go down to the Glass Harpoon, and have a light meal and some drinks. How does that sound?” “Wonderful. Where’s Emily?” “My sister is watching her.” He smiled, setting off his dimples. Jenna’s heart lurched crazily. She thought he must be one of the most striking men she’d ever seen. She was insane to think she could ever land him as a husband. What was she 60

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doing? She was just plain old Jenna. Amy was right. Slade wasn’t in her league. He wasn’t even playing the same game. They walked in silence toward the opposite end of Main Street. The shop was within walking distance of her home and Jenna enjoyed not having to worry about where to park her car, since she couldn’t park it on the pedestrian-only section of Main Street that ran in front of her store. The May sun was settling low in the sky, its orange beams spreading streaks across the shoreline. The stained glass window in front of the Glass Harpoon glowed with a gentle radiance. Slade held the door open as Jenna swept through into the nautical interior. Old ship’s wheels hung on the walls, draped with fish nets and surrounded by starfish, and seashells. Finding a table, they ordered popcorn shrimp for an appetizer. Slade reached across the table and grasped her fingers, squeezing gently. His warm touch engulfed her hand and spread up her arm. “Emily got her first tooth today.” Slade smiled. “How exciting. She is so precious.” Jenna clamped her mouth shut. She had sounded too enthusiastic. She wasn’t supposed to show undo interest in his family or in starting a family. What had been that last rule she’d read? To agree with whatever he said, but not offer too much of her own emotions. She would have to watch her step. Things were progressing nicely. She didn’t want to take the chance of ruining his interest. 61

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Slade looked at her expectantly. When she didn’t elaborate on her initial comment, he dropped her hand slightly. He seemed disappointed at her lack of excitement. His face closed over, became more guarded. Jenna picked up the cola, ducked her head and took a spicy, bubbly sip. Be cool, Jenna. Don’t blow this. “It’s challenging being a single father. But I love it.” He seemed more cautious. “I don’t regret it. Emily is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” He was such a wonderful father. Jenna opened her mouth to praise him, but managed to stop herself just in time. The book said to give simple affirmative responses. That is what she would do. “Really?” God, this was hard. She was genuinely starting to detest all of these ridiculous dating games—even if they did work. Why couldn’t she just tell Slade that she admired him for raising Emily alone? *

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Really? Was that all she could say? He poured his heart out to her, and she acted like he was discussing the weather. Maybe he should keep trying. The book said to draw Ms. Right out by divulging your own intimate secrets and she should follow suit. Maybe he needed to share something deeper. “Most people don’t know this, but Bridgett wasn’t going to have Emily. I had to convince her to carry the baby and let me raise her. Money did the trick.” 62

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Jenna’s eyes shone with sympathy and understanding, and Slade thought he was finally breaking through and she would confide her deepest feelings to him any moment. Then she began that indecipherable mumbling again, and her open expression shuttered itself. “That’s fascinating.” Slade speared a fork into a popcorn shrimp. Ridiculous. Why was he wasting his time with her? She obviously had no interest in him and didn’t care about the struggles he went through as a single father. He jabbed the morsel into his mouth and chewed furiously. He was so aggravated the taste was lost to him. It might as well have been seaweed. The silence stretched long and awkward. Slade didn’t care. He would finish the date and see her home. Then he was done. The first thing he was going to do was to throw that idiotic book out into the churning ocean waves. Forget having a wife. What did he need a wife for anyway? He and Emily were doing just fine…. Emily. He might not need a wife, but his daughter needed a mother—deserved a mother. Someone to read her bedtime stories, tuck her in at night, and kiss her hurts away. Slade knew he could do all those things, but not with the maternal touch that every child craved. Jenna might not be interested in his troubles as a single parent, but Slade knew she would be the perfect mother to Emily. She just didn’t know it yet. He would have to keep working at convincing her. But he was finished with that book. He really was. He was 63

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going to give Jenna McBay a taste of her own medicine. Wonder how she’d like being unsure whether he was even slightly interested in her? Well, she was about to find out.

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CHAPTER 6 Slade drove her home in silence. After his revelation about Emily’s mother, he had grown strangely quiet. The book had warned against her starting any conversation. Jenna maintained the silence, and it lengthened and stretched. She shifted uncomfortably on the seat. The sound of her dress brushing against velvety leather hissed loudly in the still confines of the car. Pulling into her graveled drive, he pushed the gear into park. “Goodnight, Jenna. Thanks for the company.” That was it? He wasn’t even going to try to kiss her? “Ggoodnight. Thank you for taking me out. It was lovely.” Lovely? Jeez! Couldn’t she think of anything better to say? 65

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No wonder he didn’t want to kiss her. Not to mention her totally inept response to him when he’d talked about his pain and struggles raising Emily alone. He’d pinned his heart on his sleeve. She’d aimed a nasty punch and knocked it back into hiding. Jenna wanted to drop her head into her hands and cry. Things had been going so well. Now, she’d really messed up. What should she do? Forget the advice of the book for a moment? Did she dare? What if she leaned over and kissed him? What would his reaction be? Only one way to find out. Jenna hoarded all of her bravery into a pool, pulled the plug and let it gush forth. Leaning over she lightly laid her palm against the sparse bristles on his cheek. He turned jerkily, surprise shining out of his leaf-green eyes. Jenna leaned toward him, offering her lips. If he turned away her overture, she would never have the nerve to try this again. Her eyes drifted shut. Her heart pounded. Her palms were moist. *

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Shock flared through every atom of his body at the feel of her cool, delicate fingers against his face. The delicate smell of lavender raised to envelope them like an amorous, enshrouding cloud. The scent was old-fashioned, reminding him of the agelessness of love. Jenna lifted her face, offering her lips to him in sweet surrender. Her violet eyes were glazed with longing and a hint of nervousness, before she lowered her lids and shut herself 66

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away from his probing gaze. Slade groaned. Gathering her close, he tasted her lips. Jenna’s response was immediate and satisfying. She pressed herself closer, twining her arms around his shoulders, immersing her fingers in the hair at his nape. Her mouth opened to him like she was welcoming him home. How could he have ever thought she wasn’t interested in him? Jenna wasn’t the type of woman who could respond to a man’s touch like this unless her emotions were involved too. Brushing his lips over hers, lighter then firmer. Firmer then light. Varying the pressure. He earned a low catlike purr from her. Her hands were tracing circles over his back. Slade pulled away slightly and buried his head in the hair at her neck. Taking deep lavender filled breaths, he tried to gain control over his inflamed hormones. Control. He needed control. He didn’t want to scare her off. This was for keeps. For Emily. It was essential that he take things at a fast but gentle pace. He grinned, hugging her close for a moment longer. Besides, there would be plenty of long nights of lovemaking after they were married. Somehow, he hadn’t foreseen that as a fringe benefit when planning to find a mother for Emily. But it was one he was starting to look forward to. Pushing gently back from her, he dropped a light kiss on the end of her nose. Her violet eyes were darkened to the color of bruised pansies and her lips were slightly fuller from his kisses. 67

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“Goodnight, Jenna. Sweet dreams.” Jenna smiled softly before gracefully swinging herself from the Jaguar and disappearing into the house. Slade whistled as he drove home, feeling like a teenager who’d just had his first kiss. Things were going just as planned. Perhaps he shouldn’t be too hasty to throw that book away just yet. *

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“But he hasn’t proposed yet.” Hope stood on her tiptoes and placed the home decorating book just so in the display window. “No.” Jenna entered a figure in the accounting book, erased it and re-entered it. “Well, then the book isn’t working.” Jenna laid the pencil down and flung the ledger closed, shoving it under the counter. She couldn’t concentrate with Hope rattling on about Slade and marriage and books. She might as well wait until she was alone to finish the bookkeeping. “Of course it’s working. He’s still asking me out, isn’t he?” Hope laughed. “Don’t you realize how pretty you are? He’d have asked you out without the help of the book.” “He might have asked me out once.” Jenna spread her hands out so Hope could get a closer look at her. “Then he’d have discovered plain Jenna. Bookworm Jenna. Not-soexciting Jenna. And that would have been the last of it. The 68

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book is keeping him interested.” “I think the book is wonderful.” Hope sighed. “It’s romantic, and has an old world charm. But you are what’s attracted Slade. The book just gave you some confidence.” Jenna grabbed a feather duster and brushed it over the tops of some books. Intellectually she knew what Hope said was right. The advice in the book was not only outdated—some of it was downright foolish. But it was working. “I might only be almost eighteen, but I know these things.” Hope sniffed. Jenna laughed at her sister’s wounded expression. “Hopie, just do the display and let me worry about my love life, okay?” “I just think you need to stir things up if you want a proposal. Men take forever to get around to these things.” Jenna hid another grin. Hope was an incurable romantic. Her sister read scads of romance novels, cried over sappy movies, and daydreamed constantly. Most of the time she could be found with her chin propped on her hand, a faraway look in her violet eyes. “And just how would you stir things up?” Jenna frowned over an incorrectly priced book. Grabbing the pricing gun from under the counter she entered the correct code. “I’d make him rabidly, violently, aggressively jealous.” “Jealous of whom? The choices are rather limited in town. Most of the men are either married or otherwise engaged.” “There’s always a tourist.” “On May first? Get real. Most of the tourists from 69

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Christmas have packed up and gone home long ago. And the summer tourist season is at least another month away.” Jenna sighed. Which was why business was so slow. Something they did not need right now. Most of their bills were already several months behind. She really did need a proposal from Slade if she had any hope of keeping the store. “What about Thatcher?” Hope giggled softly. “It might shake Amy out of her mock hate for him, too.” “Thatch?” Jenna paused in her re-pricing of the books, remembering Slade’s reaction at the Pizza Shack when she’d hugged Thatch. If she remembered correctly, the two had always been rivals. From the moment they’d each learned to walk they had been competing against one another—for girls, for sports, for football scholarships. Thatcher was just good enough of a friend he might be willing to play the part. Jenna smiled. “I just might try that, Hopie.” “Make sure Amy is aware of any dates you have with Thatcher, too, won’t you?” “Why would Amy care? She hates Thatch.” Jenna finished pricing the books and resumed her dusting. A thin layer of dust had accumulated on an upper shelf and the motes floated down, tickling her nose and causing her to sneeze. “Bless you. Because Amy is crazy in love with Thatch. She just won’t admit it to herself.” Jenna stared at Hope in disbelief. Amy and Thatch? But even as crazy as the idea of playboy-hating Amy being in love 70

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with a football star sounded, it suddenly made a lot sense. An attraction explained why Amy treated Thatch so rottenly, like she disliked him more than stepping on a piece of sticky gum on a hot summer day. She was trying to protect herself from the hurt she knew could result from loving Thatch. Make Slade jealous? She went to the counter and pulled How to Wed a Man of Means from the bottom shelf. It landed on the scarred, oak counter with a heavy thunk. Hope looked up from her work and shook her head in disgust. “Hush. I want to see if it says anything about making the millionaire jealous. It’s been right about everything so far, hasn’t it?” “I guess.” Hope didn’t sound convinced. Jenna thumbed through the tattered table of contents. Shooting a wicked grin at Hope, she turned to page one-ohsix, reading aloud. “Rule number fifteen.” “Fifteen? How many rules are in there?” Jenna flipped back to the table of contents. “Twenty-two.” “How many have you used?” Jenna winced. “Nine.” “So you’re about halfway there?” Jenna glared at Hope. “Sorry. What does rule number fifteen say?” “If he hasn’t yet asked for your hand in marriage, remember that men are possessive by nature. Flirt with other suitors. Flutter your fan at them. Let them sign your dance 71

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card. Your millionaire will respond.” “Exactly what I said. Minus the fan and dance card.” “You just might be on to something, Hopie. You just might.” Jenna chewed her lips and rubbed her thumb across the top of the page. She needed a proposal. What did she have to lose? *

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Slade picked up the phone to call Jenna, but Emily let out an earsplitting screech. He winced. “Baby, you’ve got to stop that. I’m trying to call your Mommy-to-be. We don’t want her to hear you wailing in the background, do we?” He reached into the playpen, the padding sprinkled with a teddy bear print, and lifted his daughter into his arms. “Will you be quiet if I hold you?” “Da-da-da.” “Promise?” Shifting Emily to his left shoulder, he cradled the phone against his right ear and dialed the number for The Tome Home. “Hello. This is The Tome Home. How many I help you?” When Jenna’s voice slid over the wire like silk, every nerve in his body tightened. “Want to have dinner tonight?” He shuffled Emily further on his hip, cradled the phone between his ear and shoulder and picked up Find Ms. Right with the other hand. He remembered the rule about acting casual. Let her think you had a free moment and decided to call her. 72

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“Tonight?” He heard a faint crinkling, like she was turning the pages of a newspaper. Emily gurgled and grabbed for the phone cord. The receiver slipped from its resting position on his shoulder, slamming against the heavy pine end table before crashing to the floor. Find Ms. Right landed face up. Emily chuckled. Groaning, he set Emily in her playpen and made a grab for the phone. “Jenna?” “I’m here.” He could hear a thread of laughter running through her voice. “What happened?” “Emily—” No. He wanted her to think the kid was perfect, not someone who disrupted phone conversations. “I dropped the phone.” He sat down on the navy blue leather sofa and reached over to retrieve Find Ms. Right. The book fell open to a page near the back. Rule number twenty: Never act jealous. A woman likes to feel that a man trusts her. She will test you to see if you are overly possessive. If you are, she will move on. Interesting. Test him? How? Perhaps that rule didn’t apply to this situation. “I can’t tonight. I have plans.” She always had plans. Slade frowned. What did she do every night of the week that she wasn’t with him? He opened his mouth to ask her what her plans were, but his gaze fell to the open book on his lap. Never act jealous. “Okay. Another time.” He kept his voice casual, the effort causing him to clench his fists painfully. 73

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“I’ll probably be pretty tied up while Thatch is in town.” He heard the faint tremor in her voice. Was she nervous? Lying? Scared? Then her words hit him, their force causing him to lean forward in near pain and clutch his stomach. Thatch? Thatcher Tyson? She couldn’t go out to dinner because she had a date with Thatch. Slade wanted to catapult Find Ms. Right through the big bay window with the navy striped balloon valance. But Emily had a steady gaze fixed on him. Did she sense his inner turmoil? Was she waiting to see how he would react? He didn’t want to teach her to react to anger by throwing things. He gently set the book on the coffee table and leaned back, trying to look relaxed. “Sure.” The effort to force an easiness into his voice he wasn’t feeling caused a faint sweat to break out on his brow. “Y-you don’t mind?” Never act jealous. “Not at all. Just let me know when your schedule frees up.” “Hang on a second.” Slade could hear some low murmuring, but it was indistinguishable, Jenna must have her hand over the phone. Was Thatch there? The thought sent him bolting to his feet, ready to march down to the store and smash Thatch’s pretty boy face in. Emily whimpered, craning her neck to look up at him from the depths of her play prison. Slade smiled at her. “It’s okay, honey. Daddy just needs to pace.” 74

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Slade walked as far as the cord would allow. What was she doing? Why didn’t she get back on the line? More importantly what were her and Thatch doing while he waited on the other end of the line? Kissing? Never act jealous. *

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Jenna covered the mouthpiece of the telephone. “Hope. Help!” “What’s wrong?” Hope’s smooth forehead wrinkled in concern. She rushed over and wrapped an arm around Jenna. “It isn’t working.” Hope had been grinning when Jenna slipped in the comment about Thatch. Now her face looked grim. “What did he say?” “He said he didn’t mind if I went out with Thatch.” “He’s bluffing,” Hope said with certainty. “I don’t think so.” “He’s either bluffing or he’s not that interested. Sorry.” “Not that interested,” Jenna repeated. Maybe the book wasn’t working as well as she’d thought. “What should I do?” “Tell him you’ll see him around.” Hope gave her one last sympathetic squeeze and walked away. Jenna caught an empowering breath and placed the receiver back against her ear. “Slade? I gotta run now. I’ll see you around.” “Okay. ’Bye.” 75

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Connection severed. Jenna laid the phone back in the cradle, hand trembling silently. Maybe she was taking this game a little too far. Should she call Slade back and confess the whole thing? She chewed on her lip. Dishonesty did not suit her. This whole playacting craziness made her nervous. “Don’t you dare call him back.” Hope had her front halfburied in one of the store’s big display windows, her back end sticking up in the air. “How did you know?” Jenna snatched her hand away from the phone. “Know you, sis.” Hope slithered backwards out of the window and brushed her hands off on her black pants. “I’ll call Thatch. We need to get him in on this.” Jenna groaned. Why did a lie always escalate and grow until it took on a life of its own?

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CHAPTER 7 “It’s been almost a week.” Slade banged the large black kettle he’d used to make chili into the sink full of sudsy water. “Why don’t you call her?” Chloe suggested. “No.” “What if she isn’t even interested in Thatch? Maybe she’s shy and wants you to make the first move.” He slung his hand out angrily, causing droplets of dish soap bubbles to splatter across the tile floor. “I made the first move. And the second. And the third.” “So make the fourth.” Slade glared at his sister. “If you like her this much, what do you have to lose?” 77

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Chloe bounced Emily on her lap. Emily laughed and Slade smiled. He had just survived a week of drawn out nights spent pacing the floor, trying to quiet a hysterical infant. It was a comfort to see her cheerful again. He must be doing something right. “Emily and I are just fine. We’ll make it alone.” He gritted his teeth as an image of Jenna and Thatch laughing together tormented him. “Is that why you have circles the size of Crater Lake under your eyes? Or why you look like you haven’t eaten in a few days. If you don’t get some sleep, you’ll drop. You’re swaying, you’re so tired.” Chloe shook a finger at him. “Emily’s crying has been bad the last few nights.” “Look, I’m taking her home with me tonight.” Chloe glared at him. “It’s Saturday. Lucky for you I don’t have plans and don’t have to work tomorrow.” “Thanks anyway—” She cut him off, her jaw setting stubbornly. “Don’t you argue with me, Slade. I’m more headstrong than you. I’ll win.” Slade laughed. He’d gone up against some of the toughest, savviest businessmen in the world. Yet his slip of a sister could order him around like he was an obedient puppy. “Yes, ma’am. Maybe we both could use the break. As much as I love Emily, it is hard to be a parent alone.” “Okay. Here are your orders…” “Aye aye, Captain.” Slade pulled a hand out of the water and saluted. A stream of suds flooded down his temple and 78

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Chloe giggled. “Tonight at zero twenty-hundred hours, go to bed. Sleep until whatever hundred hours you want. Then tomorrow, call Jenna. And demand to see her. You got that, soldier?” “Yes, sir. I mean ma’am, sir.” “I’ll bring Emily back when you call so you can take her with you. Jenna is probably dying to see her, even if she won’t admit it.” She might want to see Emily, but was she dying to see him? *

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“Let me get this straight…you want me to help you make Slade jealous?” Thatch was sprawled on their living room sofa, the Sunday sports page spread out on the other half of the couch. “Exactly. But you can’t tell anyone. Especially Amy.” Hope had insisted that Amy needed to think Jenna was really dating Thatch. Jenna thought it rather ridiculous, but was willing to try it. “Where is the fire-breathing serpent anyway?” He flipped a page and frowned. “Amy is finishing inventory at The Tome Home.” “Amy? You mean Hydra.” Jenna blew a stray hair off her forehead in exasperation, tired of the barbs he and Amy constantly hurled at one another. “Will you help me?” “Sure. Anything for true love.” 79

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Love? Money was more like it. No. That wasn’t necessarily true. She could sell the books if all she wanted was money. Slade was her goal. She’d wanted him since high school. Why shouldn’t she have something she truly wanted just this once? And Emily. Yes, true love. She was crazy about that baby. She hadn’t seen the child in almost two weeks and it had been a week since she’d heard from Slade. Her arms ached to hold close softness, sunshine and baby powder. The front door crashed open, the door knob imbedding itself in the plaster. “Get that piece of junk car out of my parking space.” Amy’s violet eyes glittered like ice chips. “Junk? You think a Ferrari is junk?” Thatch folded the sports section back into place and laid it methodically on the table, before rising. “What is he doing here anyway?” Amy glared at Jenna. Jenna stared at her sister in surprise. Amy was a pessimist through and through. She didn’t believe in true love and she was practical. But Jenna had never known her to act so blatantly aggressive before. “He’s my guest.” Amy’s eyes narrowed to slits and a dull red flush rose up her neck and across her cheeks. “Is that so? Well, you’re welcome to him.” She spun around and stomped down the hallway, slamming her bedroom door behind her. Thatch winced and rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. “She hates me.” “I don’t think so.” Jenna was staring after her sister with 80

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disbelief. Hope was right. Amy was head over heels in love with Thatch. She just wouldn’t admit it because it went against everything she stood for. Plus Thatch was the exact playboy type Amy claimed to despise. “Yeah, she definitely hates me.” Thatch’s lips turned down at the corners and his shoulders slumped. He looked thoroughly dejected and miserable for a guy who claimed not to care what her sister thought of him. Jenna was debating whether to share her new insight into Amy’s behavior with him when the phone shrilled. Jenna jumped, then answered it. “Jenna, we need to talk.” “Slade?” Jenna’s heart picked up speed and she realized it had been running at a slower, half-dead pace between their dates. “Can I pick you up? I thought we could go over to the island.” “I’m sorry, Slade. I can’t.” “I won’t take no for an answer.” “Maybe later.” “No. Now. Please, Jenna.” Jenna frowned. He had never been this persistent. He’d always taken later for an answer. Most of the time he’d acted like he really didn’t care if she accepted his invitations or not. “I have company.” She looked over at Thatch and he winked at her. “Thatcher?” Jenna felt a thrill at the possessive desperation in his voice. 81

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“Yes.” “I’m coming over.” Jenna stood holding the phone, the dial tone buzzing in her ear. He’d hung up on her. A sudden realization blossomed in her. He was jealous of Thatch. That explained the strange way he’d acted on the phone. Jenna smiled. And if he was jealous, he must care. At least a little. “Show time, Thatch.” *

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“Emily, we have to make you look gorgeous. Irresistible.” He tied a pink bonnet under his daughter’s chin. If Thatcher Tyson thought Slade would simply step back and give him free rein around Jenna, he was in for a nasty surprise. “Okay, punkin. Best behavior, okay?” He tucked his daughter against his chest and headed downstairs. When Slade arrived, Thatcher Tyson’s cherry-red Ferrari was parked in front of Jenna’s house. He glared at the machine, almost slamming his car door before remembering his daughter was asleep in the back seat. Emily’s dark lashes rested like silk shadows on her cheeks and her head was tilted slightly to the side. He slung the diaper bag over his shoulder before he shifted her gently out of the car seat. She whimpered, but settled back against him. Slade wanted to kick open the front door and demand that Thatch leave. But he couldn’t do that. It would show too much 82

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interest and probably scare Jenna with the intensity of his emotions. He’d already given too much away by demanding to see her and then rushing over here. The door swung open shortly after his brief knock. The woman glaring at him was without a doubt one of Jenna’s sisters. She had the same huge violet eyes and midnight hair. But there the similarities ended. The girl’s hair was cut in soft layers around her cheekbones and her expression was one of scornful disdain. “Slade, come on in and join the Jenna McBay fan club.” She motioned him in with a wide arc of one slim wrist. Fan club? How many men had been here to see Jenna recently? Thatcher was sprawled on the sofa, green throw pillows cushioning his head. He looked as if he’d lived in the house for years. Possessive fury pumped through Slade. Thatch wasn’t seriously interested in Jenna. He was playing a game; trying to win some outdated contest. “Slade, I was wondering when you’d show up.” Thatch grinned at him, perfect white teeth setting off his perfect dimples. “Jenna will be out in a minute.” The sister who had answered the door spoke to Slade, but shot furious glances at Thatch. “Get your feet off that coffee table.” Thatch started in surprise and quickly removed his booted feet, placing them awkwardly on the carpet. Slade smothered his laughter. “Don’t be rude, Amy.” The one that spoke had to be Hope 83

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if Amy was the coffee table girl. “You haven’t even offered Slade a chair. Honestly! And he has this precious baby.” Slade gratefully slid into a plush armchair and settled Emily on his lap. “Sorry. Where are my manners? Too many football heroes in one day.” Slade burst out laughing, earning a slightly approving grin from Amy. “What’s wrong with football heroes?” Thatch demanded. Surprise jerked Slade’s head around. Thatcher might be competitive and immature, but he was also one of the most even-tempered men Slade had ever known. It wasn’t like him to take offense over such a simple remark. “Not a thing.” Amy’s voice dripped with false sweetness. “If you’re into macho, bed-hopping pseudo-studs.” Thatch’s face flushed. He sat forward on the couch, his jaw twitching furiously. “Are you two fighting again?” Jenna swept into the room. Speaking of football, Slade felt as if he’d been tackled and was under a mound of football players. His breath grew shallow and his chest tightened. She was beautiful. Her hair hung in shimmering waves. Slade longed to twine his hands through the silky strands. Barely smothering a groan that struggled to escape his throat, he took a minute to drink in the sight of her. A week without Jenna was too long. Even a day was too long. He would have to make her his wife. Soon. That way he could see her anytime he wanted. His gaze fell to her simple 84

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paisley dress. And undo those rows of delicious buttons several times a day. “Slade, I’m afraid I’ve promised Thatch I would spend the day with him. Maybe we could have dinner?” “Darn right she did.” Thatcher jutted his chin out. Slade stared at it for a moment, thinking it made a good target for a closed fist. Emily squirmed, trying to escape the confines of his arms, and his temper pulled back in. What now? Should he demand she break the date? Follow the demands of his churning insides that screamed she was his and not to let Thatch anywhere near her? Or follow the advice of the book? Even if he disregarded the advice, which didn’t seem to be working too well at this moment, he couldn’t demand that she not go out with Stud Boy. It was his fault really. He’d never expressed his intentions toward her. They weren’t engaged, he hadn’t even asked her to see him exclusively. He would remedy that tonight. “Dinner.” He rose to his feet, nodded in Thatch’s direction and bid Jenna’s sisters goodbye. Jenna trailed him outside to his car. “Could I hold Emily for just a minute?” Slade hid his triumphant grin as he handed his daughter to Jenna. She pulled the baby close and pressed a soft kiss against Emily’s forehead. Beautiful. Maternal. Age old. Maybe he had a card up his sleeve that Thatch didn’t possess after all. If Jenna learned to love Emily, she would learn to love Emily’s father. “I’ll pick you up at seven.” 85

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“Okay.” Jenna secured Emily in the bright pink car seat. When she straightened, Slade leaned over and brushed a soft kiss on her lips. She raised her fingers to her mouth and pressed them there. She was still standing like that as he slid behind the wheel, and pulled out of the driveway. Good. Let her feel the impression of his mouth on hers the whole time she was with Thatch. *

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Jenna shook nonexistent wrinkles out of the black velvet, knee-length dress. She’d taken an unhurried bath scented with lavender oil, and now she was ready to slide the silky lining over her still-damp skin. The dress caught on each curve as it glided down her body, settling snugly into place. The dress was simply made, with long fitted sleeves and a scooped neckline. At first appearance, it didn’t seem all that spectacular. After a few moments, though, the effect of the curve-molding softness combined with the heart shape carved out of the back—allowing glimpses of smooth flesh—was tantalizing. “You look wonderful.” Amy stopped in the doorway. “Thanks.” “Date with Thatch?” Amy’s voice sounded tight. Her lips were drawn together. Jenna turned to look at her sister. “Would that bother you?” Amy flushed brightly. “Why would it?” She rambled over to Jenna’s dresser, fiddling with the picture of their parents. 86

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“Do you still miss Mom and Dad?” “Every day.” Jenna’s throat tightened with emotion. “I wish Mom were here. I need her.” Amy’s voice seemed to come from a long way off. “You can always talk to me, Ames. I’m your sister.” “Almost a mother too.” Amy gave her a watery smile. “Have I ever told you how much I appreciate all you’ve done for Hope and me? It’s time for you to think about yourself. You deserve to be happy.” The last word ended on a quivery sob. Jenna laughed softly. “Then why are you crying?” She walked over to her sister and squeezed her in a compassionate hug. “Nothing. I hope you and Thatch will be very happy together.” The words sounded sincere, but Amy’s violet eyes flooded with ever deeper tears. “I don’t want to marry Thatch. I don’t even want to date him.” Forget making Amy jealous so she would realize her buried love for Thatcher Tyson. She couldn’t bear to see her sister in this much pain. “Y-you don’t? Then why—” Jenna was already answering her question before she finished it. “I wanted to make Slade jealous. Hopefully get him to propose.” “That is so totally devious.” Amy blew a wispy strand of hair off her forehead. “I don’t need any lectures, Amy.” Jenna reached around her sister to retrieve the rose-tinted perfume bottle that had 87

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been their mother’s. The scent of lavender misted the air around them as she squeezed the bulb and released the gentle aroma. “What type of marriage do you think you’ll have? Your whole relationship is based on lies.” “I haven’t lied exactly.” Jenna felt anger starting to simmer just under the boiling point. Amy had no right to lecture her like this. Jenna was well aware that playing games was not the best way to start a relationship. But she was desperate. Snorting, Amy crossed her arms over her chest. “You haven’t been exactly honest either.” “You don’t understand what’s going on.” Jenna glared at her sister. Amy spread her hands out wide. “Then tell me.” She gazed at Amy for several long moments. When had her baby sister grown up? The last time she’d looked, Amy had still been a high school student—a giddy teenager. Now her slender shoulders seemed to be held a little straighter. Preparing to take on any weight that was put on them? Maybe she should have told her sisters long ago about the financial difficulties they were having, the debt their parents had left that seemed nearly impossible to crawl out of, and her fear that she would lose the bookstore. The store was the one thing she had left of her mother and father. “We’re about three months behind on bills, Amy.” Jenna shuffled slowly to the bed and collapsed onto it. “The store?” “Yes. Sales have been down.” 88

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Amy’s eyes widened. “The house?” “Mom and Dad took out a lien against it to buy the boat.” “The boat that ultimately killed them?” “The house. The store. Both of our parents’ dreams are collapsing into nothingness. Gone. Just like them. Now do you understand why I was desperate enough to try that book?” Jenna pointed at the faded red volume laying on her night table. “What if he doesn’t propose, Jenna?” Amy’s forehead knit in a frown. “Or what if he doesn’t propose in time?” “Then I’ll sell the trunk and the books in it.” Jenna straightened her shoulders. “I won’t let our parents’ dream die. Or the bookstore. I love that place.” Amy ran a hand through her wispy raven locks, rumpling them. “But you don’t want to sell those books, do you?” Jenna sighed. “No. They’re our legacy. Aunt Madge trusted me to keep them for our daughters. But I might not be able to.” “Maybe you could just sell one or two? They’re so old. They’ll bring an outrageous amount of money.” “If I have to.” Amy’s lips tilted into a wicked grin. “Well, you certainly picked the right dress. If Slade doesn’t fall for you in that, you’d better hang it up.” “Thanks. I think.” Jenna glanced at the red glowing numbers on the digital clock just behind How to Wed a Man of Means. Six-forty-five. Slade would be here any time. 89

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Her gaze dropped to the book. “Go ahead. I know you’re dying to glean some last minute ridiculous piece of advice from that thing.” Amy reached over and snatched the book up, riffling through it. Jenna’s hand rose to take the fragile book from her sister. But she resisted the urge. Amy was more important than any book. She just wished her sister would be a little gentler. “Here we go.” Amy giggled. “Rule number eight: Use body language to pique his interest. What did they know about body language back then?” “Apparently something,” Jenna pointed out. “What else does it say?” “While at a ball… Do they even call dances balls anymore?” “Sometimes. Come on, Amy. He’ll be here any minute, and I don’t remember reading this one.” “Okay. Okay. While at a ball, lean against a wall and thrust your hips slightly forward and keep your feet shoulders width apart. This signals that you are interested in marriage and having children.” Amy snapped the book shut and slung it back onto the table. Jenna cringed. Doing a mock waltz to a bare wall by the door, Amy pressed her back to the wall, laid her hand over her head and thrust her pelvis forward. “How do I look?” “Ridiculous.” “Well, maybe it takes some practice. Get over here.” Jenna giggled and complied. Pressing her back to the wall, 90

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she tilted her hips slightly forward, but kept her hands at her sides. “It must have been the arm over the head. A bit too much, I suppose, because you look wonderful.” “Or because I have on this dress and you have on jeans,” Jenna pointed out. “But since there are no balls and I don’t hob knob with the ton, I suppose this rule will have to be set aside.” “Why? Just lean against the wall when he comes to pick you up.” Jenna thought about it for a moment. Why not? Every rule in the book had worked so far. “You’re sure I don’t look absurd?” “Not at all.”

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CHAPTER 8 A drizzling rain misted the windshield of the Jaguar by the time Slade pulled into Jenna’s driveway. The tiny drops hit with a soft, scratching rhythm, then the wipers swept them away. Bringing his hand to his breast pocket, Slade patted the charcoal-gray dinner jacket to be sure the bundle was actually there and not still sitting on his dresser at home. A reassuring bulge pressed against his damp palm. He’d made reservations up the coast at the Glass Lighthouse. The restaurant was set high on a rocky bluff. Wide windows took full advantage of the view of the tumultuous sea crashing against the rocks. It featured fine food, soft candlelight and atmosphere. He patted the black box 92

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again. The perfect place to propose. Swallowing his nerves, he swung out of the car and made a dash for the front door. Hope answered and ushered him in. “You look dashing.” Hope smiled reassuringly at him. Slade felt some of the tension ease. “Thanks. Gorgeous enough to date your sister?” “A pure hunk.” Slade stopped in the white tiled entryway, shaking the droplets of water out of his hair. He politely wiped his shiny leather shoes on the floor mat sprinkled with tiny red roses. Resisting the urge to reach for the box again, he looked up. Jenna was posed against the far wall wearing a figure-hugging black dress. She looked soft enough to cuddle. Her hair was pulled up exposing the long stretch of her neck. Tiny curls had escaped to trail down the side of her face, one resting on her cheekbone. Black against pale satin. She looked breathtaking. He frowned. But something was off. Not quite right. Jenna’s shoulders were pressed to the wall behind her. But her hips were thrust out at an odd angle and her legs spread apart in a rather unladylike stance. Was she hurt or something? Maybe she’d thrown her back out. She was always lifting those heavy cases of books. Slade allowed his gaze to slide up to her face. Her lips were pursed out in a bad parody of a Marilyn Monroe pout. Realization dawned on him. She was trying to be seductive. He bit down hard on his inner lip to keep from laughing. She looked utterly ridiculous. But laughing at her 93

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would only infuriate her. That would hardly be a good way to start off a proposal dinner. He crossed the room to her and dropped a light kiss on her cheek. “You look beautiful.” “Thank you.” Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Amy giving Jenna an overstated wink. They must have planned the pose together. They’d probably thought it was enticing. Slade grinned. He was flattered Jenna had gone to the trouble to practice a pose for him. She was usually so practical. He was never quite certain where he fit in her busy life. “Shall we?” He offered her his arm. The rain had stopped and the sun was peeking through the iron gray clouds as they left the house, like a spotlight suddenly shining on a darkened stage. The air was fresh and crisp from the cleansing of the ozone. Left behind were the underlying scents of salt and damp earth. As Slade helped Jenna into the passenger seat of the Jag, he got his first full view of her back. Mouth dry, he resisted the urge to splay his hands across her exposed skin. He closed his eyes tightly. He had been careful not to be too bold with her during their dates. Now was not the time to get too amorous and scare her off. Emily was counting on him. Once he was seated behind the wheel, engine idling, enclosed in the small confines of metal, the scent of lavender enveloped him like a warm quilt on a winter morning. Feeling his pulse beat at his throat, Slade pulled slowly out onto Buccaneer Bay Drive. It was going to be hard to keep his 94

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hands off her tonight. But, if he could put his proposal in terms that Jenna would accept, he could have her in his arms every day for the rest of their lives. Forever. He swallowed. Would Jenna want him forever? Even more important, would she want Emily? And what was the best way to propose to her? He’d run over so many different versions of what he might say, his brain was spinning. “You’re quiet tonight.” Jenna laid a light hand on his shoulder. “Just thinking.” “Heavy thoughts?” Her laughter was like the gentle clinking of spoons against fine china. “Pretty important.” He reached his hand up and clasped hers lightly, bringing her fingers to his mouth and pressing a kiss there. Only one of the most important moments of his life. And he had no clue how he should handle it. *

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Jenna caught her breath at the feel of his firm lips against her skin. Her body trembled from her fingertips down to her toes. If she had to stand, she would surely collapse. She wondered if he was still upset about her supposed date with Thatch. Perhaps he was going to demand she see only him, which was why he was so silent tonight. Slade lowered their hands, but kept them clasped together, his thumb running soft as a feather up and down the inside of 95

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her palm. If he demanded she see him exclusively, then she would have the right to ask the same. Their relationship would have moved a step in the right direction. However, a relationship did not equal marriage. There didn’t seem to be much choice left—she was going to be forced to sell a book or two to pay bills. Perhaps she should start with How to Wed a Man of Means. At times she wondered if it was working against her rather than for her. A short time later, they pulled to a stop in front of the Glass Lighthouse. They sat staring over the rocky bluffs and out to the buffeting sea. Glistening blue and gentle on a mild day, today the ocean was a deep inky black—dull and roiling. Jenna shivered. Violence in its most elemental form. The sea could comfort and soothe jangled nerves. Or it could destroy, sucking you in and carrying you away. Upon entering the restaurant, they were ushered to a table on the side flanked by large windows. The view was spectacular. The ocean stretched out in all directions, offering a panorama to eternity. “It makes you feel small and insignificant, doesn’t it?” Slade’s voice sounded at her ear, his warm breath caressing her cheek as he held her chair out for her. “Yes. It’s beautiful, though.” She sat down and laid her chin on a hand, turning back to the panorama. When the waiter came to take their orders, Jenna pulled herself from the spell of the sea. “Order for me, Slade.” Hadn’t the book said to let the man make decisions? It made them feel important. She thought she 96

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remembered reading that. Slade ordered lobster dinners, and Jenna felt her mouth start to water. Lobster was her favorite food, especially if it was prepared right. After the waiter left, an intense silence surrounded the table. Jenna glanced around the restaurant, avoiding Slade’s probing gaze. He was staring at her almost without blinking and she resisted the uncomfortable urge to squirm. *

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Rule number eleven: Gaze steadily at Ms. Right. It will make her feel special. There is a certain magic in a mesmerizing gaze. Women will be attracted to you, if you can perfect this technique. Slade had read the section on gazing just before leaving to pick Jenna up. He wanted to make her feel special. Maybe she would be more open to his proposal. Jenna gently removed her fingers from his, avoiding his eyes. Slade continued to bore his gaze into her, trying to mesmerize her. Once she was under his spell, he would pull out the box and ask her to put up with him for the next fifty years or so. “Would you stop staring at me.” Her face was flushed, and she looked irritated. Slade cleared his throat in embarrassment. So he didn’t have the stare perfected yet. “Sorry. Just thinking how beautiful you are.” 97

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Jenna laughed. “Can you think it but look somewhere else?” Slade patted the black box in his jacket’s breast pocket again. Should he propose now or wait? Maybe after dinner. Dinner would set the mood—soft light, romantic music and easy conversation. Then they could drive down the coast; find a sandy beach to take a stroll on. With the crashing waves and soft moonlight for a backdrop, he would drop to one knee and propose. Satisfied he had a plan, he relaxed back into the chair. Now for the conversation. He ran through several subjects in his mind, but nothing seemed appropriate. Muteness overtook them and the dialogue was nonexistent. He shifted nervously in his chair. “How are the renovations at the Widow’s Walk?” Jenna leaned back to allow the waiter to set her salad in front of her. “Slow. I demand a high quality of work. I want everything as authentic as possible. That takes time.” The conversation seemed mundane. Shouldn’t they be talking about their deepest feelings and long-held beliefs? “I would love to renovate The Tome Home. Maybe add an area with old-fashioned soda tables. Offer coffee.” “Do you have the room to do that?” “No. I’d have to add on. There is some property to the south of the store. It’s owned by Jonathan Gillwaite. I think he’d sell it.” Slade swallowed. Jonathan Gillwaite was the owner of the First Miracle Bank. He was a few years older than Slade. He 98

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was also single. Was Jenna interested in the banker? He couldn’t imagine it. Jon was slightly balding and pudgy. But if anyone could see past a person’s exterior and love only the essence of who he was, it would be Jenna. If she didn’t accept his proposal, he was going to drive himself crazy wondering who in town was about to snatch her affections from him. “If you really want the coffee area, I think you should do it.” While they talked, their food had been laid before them. The delicate scented steam of the lobster rose to tease his nostrils. Jenna laid down her fork, a faint pink blush staining her cheeks. “I can’t afford it right now.” No? But if she accepted his proposal, he could give her the money to make the improvements. He smiled. That’s what he would do. It would be his wedding present to her. Or was that too practical? Perhaps she’d prefer a romantic gift? They finished their meal, talking about their families and businesses. Slade felt relaxed. “Would you like to go for a walk?” “Here?” Jenna looked toward the rocky bluffs outside of the restaurant. “No.” He laughed. “I thought we’d drive to the beach.” “Sure.” The air was weighty and still as they walked to the car. Heavy blackness hung over the sky. Not a single star was visible. Slade frowned. So much for proposing by the romantic 99

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glow of moonlight. Oh, well. At least he could propose by the pounding surf. He turned the car toward Miracles Landing. There was a sandy strip of beach just inside the northern part of town. They could take a walk there. Parking his car in front of the unlit library, he rushed to open Jenna’s door, helping her out. The beach was quiet at this time of night. Jenna kicked off her low-slung black heels and dug her toes into the sand. Slade offered his arm for support and they strolled to the edge of the water. Waves pounded against the shore, eating the sand before returning to spit it out. The wind ripped at their hair, pulled loose some tendrils from Jenna’s upsweep and flung them across her face. Slade took Jenna’s shoulders and turned her to face him. “Jenna, you’ve come to mean a lot to me.” Her eyes widened in surprise. “What?” Her voice was carried away on the sharp gust of wind blowing in from sea. Slade raised his voice. “You mean a lot to me.” “You eat a lot, too.” She laughed. He shook his head. “No. You…mean…a…lot…to…me!” This wasn’t going as he’d planned at all. They could barely hear one another over the pounding of the surf. Maybe it was time to speak with actions rather than words. Wrapping his arms around her, he lowered his head, tasting her lips. The faint tang of the vintage wine they’d shared over dinner remained on her lips. He drank in her sweet flavor. 100

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His hands slid from her shoulders, ran over her bare back, felt each groove of her spine. Jenna pressed herself closer, returning his kiss. Pulling back slightly from her, he reached toward his pocket with one hand, while kneeling to the ground on one knee. His fingers were grasping the velvety box, when destiny slammed into him with mighty force. Slade was knocked sideways into the sand as water washed over him, drenching him. Jenna rushed to help him up. “Slade, are you okay?” He pulled himself to his feet, shaking his arms as if that brief act might get some of the water off him. He could feel streaming rivulets pouring down his face. He’d thought he was setting up the perfect scene. He was so romantic. How could she resist him? What a joke. He wanted to kick the water lapping once again more gently at the shore. But he suspected it would kick back by knocking him to the ground again. He reached up and pushed the box firmly down into his pocket. There was no way he would propose tonight. Jenna’s eyes were sparkling so brightly with hushed laughter that she looked ready to burst into tears. But the twitching of her lips told him it was mirth she was holding back. He groaned, knowing the sound wouldn’t carry to her over the noisy surf. His proposal would have to wait. “Mind if I drive you home?” He started toward Main Street. 101

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“What?” “Home!” “Okay.” Jenna lowered her head, shoulders shaking just a bit. Slade frowned and hurried for the car. The sooner he could drop her off and put this whole embarrassing episode behind him the better.

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CHAPTER 9 Jenna gave two kicks. One shoe flew off and hit the wall. The other landed near the bed. She pointed an accusing finger at the book, still on the night stand where she’d left it. “Some help you are. Body language indeed.” She pulled the pins out of her hair, running her fingers over her scalp to ease the tightness from wearing her hair up. “Not only has he not proposed yet, he acts like it’s the last thing on his mind.” She threw another scowl at the book. “He’d rather play in the ocean than get serious.” Jenna felt a smile tug the corners of her mouth. The image of Slade getting a good soaking, courtesy of Neptune, had 103

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stuck with her. Some things even Slade Walker couldn’t control—like the elements. What had he been doing anyway? One moment they’d been kissing and the next he was lying on his side, water pouring over him. He must have lost his balance. At least she had some affect on him. “I don’t even think I should listen to you anymore.” Walking to the night stand, she laid one hand on the book. “Who are you talking to?” Hope stood in the doorway. She clicked her tongue twice and her eyes seemed to indicate she thought Jenna had gone beyond sanity. “The book.” Jenna shrugged. “Oh, and here I thought you were talking to yourself.” Hope grinned at her. “So, you’re finally going to put that book away and trust your instincts?” “I don’t know.” Jenna flopped onto the bed as she pulled the book with her. “It seemed to work so well at first.” “Maybe it wasn’t the book, Jenna.” “Maybe.” Unable to resist the temptation of the book, Jenna flipped through the pages. Hope sat next to her on the bed, knees drawn up and hugged to her chest. “I got accepted at Woodside Community College.” Pride swelled through Jenna, swift and powerful. “Hopie, that is so wonderful. What will you study?” “Research Chemistry. It is a two-year course and I have a part-time job lined up with a cosmetics company. Once I finish school, they’ll take me on full-time.” 104

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“Mom and Dad would have been thrilled, Hopie.” Jenna gave her sister a hug. “Amy got accepted too. She’s decided to go ahead and go.” Jenna nodded, a block of sudden pain lodging in her throat. When Amy had opted to sit out for a year before going to college, Jenna had feared she would never get a degree. Now both her sisters were leaving, and Jenna would be on her own. A feeling of isolation swept over her. How she loved these two women who had grown from baby sisters, to almost-daughters, to her best friends. She would miss Amy’s caustic comments about the folly of love and Hope’s ever optimistic outlook. Since it was starting to become blindingly obvious that Slade would never propose, she would be alone. “Jenna? Amy and I were talking. We don’t want to leave you alone.” “Oh, Hope, that’s really sweet. But I’ll be fine. I’ll just bring Percy home with me from the shop for company.” “That’s not funny, Jenna.” Hope frowned. “I think you should propose to Slade.” Jenna sat up straighter. “Are you crazy? Why would I do that and ruin all this hard work towards getting him to marry me?” “It was just a thought.” “Well, perish it.” Jenna hefted the book and waved it in front of Hope’s nose, like a piece of evidence in an important trial. “I am going on to rule number…” Jenna flipped pages 105

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briskly. “Rule number eight hundred and ninety-five: When he proposes the first time, tell him no. Make him ask at least a hundred times. Makes him appreciate you more,” Hope singsonged. “Nope. There isn’t a rule number eight hundred.” The worn pages crinkled as Jenna continued turning them. She ignored Hope’s deliberately sarcastic remark. It wasn’t like Hope to mock. Was the book that ridiculous? Then why was it working? Or was it? “Rule number twelve: If he has not yet asked for your hand, and you want to hasten his proposal, take an excursion for a few days.” Jenna pushed the pages of the book together, her forefinger marking the space for quick reference. “Tell me you’re not going to do it.” Jenna could feel the red flush cruising up her cheeks. “I thought I might go visit Melissa.” “New York? You’re going to drive all the way to New York just to follow some ridiculous advice in that outdated book?” “Hope, when I first started this, you thought it was romantic.” Hope jumped to a standing position and fisted her hands on her hips. “It was, but then the advice kept getting sillier and sillier. You need to just be honest with Slade about your feelings.” “I don’t need a lecture from my baby sister.” Jenna’s voice was soft, but she kept the tone firm. She would not have her 106

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sisters running her love life. She could mess it up quite well on her own, thank you. “Fine. But when that advice backfires…just like all the advice has…maybe you’ll choose to be honest.” Hope slammed the door behind her and Jenna rubbed her forehead with her fingers. Hope was probably right. She would be better off just being honest with Slade. If she was certain Slade was interested in her because of who she was, she could do that. The thought of the many years she’d had a crush on him left her cold. In all that time, he’d never expressed the slightest interest in her. Until the book. Until she’d tried the advice in it. But if he did propose, would it be to her or to the book? *

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A spray of sudsy water flew through the air and landed on the tip of Slade’s nose. He brushed the bubble away and poured the red plastic tumbler of water carefully over Emily’s hairline. “Daddy messed up, sweetie.” “Goo?” Emily stopped splashing for a moment and stared at him with interested eyes. “I had this romantic proposal all planned and I made a complete fool of myself. Got drenched by a big wave.” Slade felt embarrassment settle in his gut like a ball of lead. “Da-da,” Emily said sympathetically, before turning back to the tub of lukewarm water and slapping at it with open 107

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palms. “Don’t worry, sugar. Daddy isn’t giving up. I’m going to try to propose to Jenna again. Hopefully she’ll be your mommy before you know it.” Running his hand over her damp, silky hair, he checked to make sure he’d gotten all traces of baby shampoo out. He’d ask Jenna out again. Propose before he lost his nerve. Things couldn’t possibly go that wrong a second time, could they? “As soon as you are smelling baby sweet and we have you dressed to show off your beauty, we’ll walk down to her bookstore and I’ll ask her out.” Slade rocked back from a squat onto his heels, and gave Emily a few extra minutes of splash time, keeping a close eye on her to make sure she stayed safe. “There is an art exhibit at Through the Looking Glass. It’s called “Love and Passion.” Maybe I could take her there, find a really romantic painting and propose in front of it.” “Goo.” The word was pitched higher on the end, giving it inflection. “You like that idea? I don’t know. What if the painting falls off and hits me in the head?” Slade laughed. Proposing to Jenna was turning out to be more of a challenge than he’d expected. Was there a hidden message in all this somewhere? Clean baby. Diaper bag fully loaded with the arsenal every parent needed when going somewhere with a young child. Hair smoothed into place. Slade grabbed Find Ms. Right. Just one quick glance before he left. He needed something to give 108

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him confidence. He still couldn’t believe he’d been knocked over by a wave. Rule number nine: Let a woman have her freedom. Modern women are fiercely independent. Slade flipped through a couple more pages. That rule didn’t seem to apply to him. He shrugged. Maybe that one was more for after the wedding. “Show time, Em. No temper tantrums.” He patted her on the head. “I’ll try to behave, too.” The walk to The Tome Home went too quickly. Slade hadn’t finished rehearsing what he wanted to say to Jenna when he slid the stroller to a stop. He paused for a moment, pretending to admire the cluttered display window. Jenna or one of her sisters had placed a treasure chest in the window. Lace and books flowed out of the open lid. Reading glasses, coffee cups and more books were scattered across the bottom of the display. “No more stalling, Emily. It’s time for us to just go in and ask her out.” What if she said no? Slade thought, as the palm of his hand connected with the cold metal door handle. What if she laughed at him? He pulled the door open and wedged the stroller into the doorway. He had made a total fool of himself last night. Jenna stood behind the counter, entering figures into a ledger. She probably didn’t ever want to go out with him again. The wheels on the stroller squeaked as he pushed Emily closer to Jenna. He needed to oil them. 109

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What if she said no when he asked her to marry him? A cold sweat beaded his upper lip. He stopped in front of the scarred oak counter. “Hi, Jenna.” His voice felt like sand in his throat. “Slade.” Jenna laid her pen down and moved around the counter. “Hi, Emily.” She kneeled down in front of the stroller and stroked a gentle hand over the baby’s cheek. “Would you like to go to the “Love and Passion” exhibit on Friday?” Might as well get it over with. He had tortured himself long enough. “Friday?” Slade felt his heart give a kick. Did she have another date? With Thatch? A swift green burn trickled through his veins. “Friday.” He wanted to demand she not go out with Thatcher Tyson. Not only Friday, but forever. Let a woman have her freedom. At this moment, Slade had never wanted to burn a book more than he wanted to scorch Find Ms. Right. If freedom meant Thatch, he would tear out each separate page of the book and rip it into confetti. “I can’t. I’m going out of town for the weekend.” Jenna grabbed a soft, plastic baby book off the shelf and handed it to Emily. Out of town? Out of town. Slade stared at the top of her sable head as she chattered to Emily. Out of town with Thatch? Hands curled into fists. Let a woman have her freedom. The jealousy seeped into his heart. Let a woman have her freedom. Slade wanted to demand she not go. Let a woman 110

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have her freedom. Didn’t she realize he wanted forever? Let a woman have her freedom!! Painful breaths. “Okay. How about tonight?” Her eyes opened wide. “Tonight.” She spoke the words chant-like. Eyes glistened with a glossy glaze. “We’ll have a bon voyage dinner.” “Bon voyage.” She was acting strange. Was she surprised he wasn’t acting jealous? Or had she been trying to brush him off and couldn’t believe he had the nerve to still expect to see her? He wheeled Emily’s stroller in a practiced half circle. He was tired of these games. Maybe it would be best to just be honest about his feelings and forget that stupid book. “I’ll pick you up at seven.” Don’t go on that trip, he wanted to shout. Jenna didn’t answer him—eyes still dazed. Taking massive, ground-punishing steps, Slade ate up the distance to his home briskly. “Emily, what can we do to make ourselves really cute to her?” Emily cocked her head to the side and stared at him mutely. “Daddy doesn’t know either. But I’ll figure it out.” *

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The art gallery was crowded tonight. Slade pushed Emily’s stroller, dodging in and out of clusters of art appreciators. “I’m really sorry I couldn’t get a babysitter.” He 111

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apologized for the umpteenth time since picking her up. He’d apologized three times during dinner, twice in the car and at least eight times since arriving at Through the Looking Glass. “It’s really not a problem.” Jenna wrapped her hand through his arm. “I like Emily.” “I wanted tonight to be special,” he muttered. Jenna felt a thrill of anticipation rumble through her. Special? Could he be planning to…was he going to…propose? She wanted to leap into the air and do a victory punch. The art objects on display for the “Love and Passion” exhibit ranged from simple to exotic. They paused in front of a large, heart-covered vase. Jenna looked away from its gaudy, heart-speckled surface to keep from laughing. Behind the vase, someone had hung a bundle of heartshaped mirrors, draped with fine pink lace. Tawdry was a word that came to mind. The stand the vase rested on was draped in flowing yards of white shimmering tulle. Slade turned to her and took both her hands in his. “Jenna.” Jenna felt her lips twitch with amusement. “Slade.” If she didn’t know better, she would swear he was embarrassed. His face was red and his hands felt slightly clammy. “I brought you here to ask you a very important question.” Sudden hope surged through her. Important question? He was going to propose. The book had worked. She wouldn’t have to go on her trip after all. Instead, she could choose her wedding dress. 112

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“Yes, Slade?” She leaned toward him, encouraging him to say the words. Just say them! He reached his hand inside his suit coat pocket. Jenna’s breath caught. Did he have a ring for her? The seconds ticked by as they gazed into one another’s eyes. The vulgar, heart-shaped mirrors reflected their still figures. The vase inched forward. Jenna reached out to steady it at the same moment she realized Emily had a firm grasp on the shimmering tulle. The baby tugged it, trying to get a corner into her mouth to take the edge off her burning gums where a new tooth was coming through. The vase toppled, slamming into the gray-green marble floor with a conversation-stopping crash. Silence echoed the sound of shattering shards of glass. Silence was followed by someone’s indrawn breath, then Emily’s earsplitting wail of fright. “Emily, no,” Slade groaned. He reached down to lift his daughter out of the stroller, one hip knocking into the tall stand on which the vase had rested. The unsteady structure teetered, tottered and slowly began its outward arc toward the wall. It caught the bottom corner of a heart-shaped gargoyle of a mirror on its way down. The mirror cracked in a jagged line to the top, the pink lace fell off and the mirror crashed to the floor, splitting into too many pieces to count. A tiny titter of laughter escaped from a blue-haired society matron. Some cough-covered chuckles followed and soon the entire room had erupted in laughter. Slade’s face was as red as 113

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the side of a freshly painted barn. Jenna tried to hold back her giggles, but it was a daunting task. She threw her hand over her mouth to hold them back, but they escaped in the form of two tiny tears slipping out of the corners of her eyes. Emily looked up at Slade, cocked her head to the side and then looked at Jenna. Her face broke into a wide grin and she chortled with delight. “I think I’ve accomplished all I can here.” Slade threw up his hands and joined in the laughter. “Can we please leave?” The owner of the gallery strode over to Slade, slapped him on the back and said, “Go and never darken…er, bust up my mirrors again.” Slade pulled out his checkbook. “I’ll cover the damages, of course.” “I wasn’t worried about it. People will be talking about this incident and my art gallery for months. Best publicity I could’ve gotten.” The man’s round face broke out in a wide grin. He leaned in close. “I hated that gaudy piece of junk, but my wife insisted I show off her masterpiece. You did me a favor.” They left the art gallery and Slade drove her straight home. He must be feeling pretty foolish, Jenna realized. And what had she done? She’d laughed at him. She sank down in her seat. Not a good move. She was certain he’d been about to propose too. When his Jag slid to a smooth stop in front of her house, she turned to him. “Thank you.” “For a fun-filled evening?” His lips were twisted into a 114

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grimace of self-derision. “Yes.” Jenna smiled and laid her hand on his jaw. Slade leaned over and gave her a soft kiss on the lips. He didn’t linger but pulled back, searched her eyes and then faced front. “Goodnight, Jenna. Have a safe trip.” A safe trip? Disappointment weighed on her shoulders, making them droop. He wasn’t going to propose. He didn’t even care that she was leaving town. She would just have to come up with another plan to expedite this relationship. *

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The sway of Jenna’s hips as she strolled up the sidewalk to her front door set off a longing in Slade. He groaned, running a hand over his face. “Emily…Emily…we really loused that one up.” He glanced in the review mirror, but his daughter was sound asleep. Slade could feel his face heating at the memory of the havoc he and his tiny baby had managed to create. His lips turned down. He wasn’t destined to give Jenna the romantic proposal she deserved. The one that Find Ms. Right claimed all women wanted. At the moment, he’d love to find the author of that book, Dr. Kent, and wring his idyllic neck, which would probably be more productive than trying to follow the man’s advice. After pulling into his driveway and parking, he lifted Emily out of her car seat and tucked her against his chest. A quick kiss on the top of her head settled her back into deep 115

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slumber. Emily was the reason he’d started this insane strategy to marry Jenna McBay. But the truth was, he had money, he wasn’t bad looking, he didn’t have to resort to begging. If Jenna didn’t want him, someone would. The problem was, would someone else be a good mother to Emily? Would she be a good influence on his daughter? When plugging Jenna into the equation, the answer was a heartrending yes. There was also the small matter of his attraction for her. He longed for the closer relationship that marriage would bring. Throwing off the humiliation of the evening and straightening his back, Slade decided to try proposing one last time. But blast the book. He would do it his way. Nothing fancy, just a simple straightforward proposal. *

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Jenna shoved the cookbook into its slot on the shelf with a satisfying pop. He didn’t care that she was leaving town for the weekend. She picked up another new release and propelled it into place. He didn’t care; hadn’t even bothered to ask if she was going alone. It was that simple. Slade had no plans to propose to her. Ever. The book was very clear on that. If the weekend journey ploy does not obtain a proposal, Mr. Millionaire has no plans to ask for your hand. Devote your time to more marriageminded suitors. But Jenna didn’t want a more marriage116

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minded suitor. She wanted Slade. She wanted Emily. Sinking onto her knees, she slid a book onto the lower shelf with less force than the previous two. Percy climbed into her half lap, his tail tickling her chin. Jenna ran a hand over his back and Percy arched into her caress. “Percy, I think I’ve really messed up.” Percy’s only reply was a persistent purr. “I think he might have actually liked me for myself, and I played games and used the book until he is fed up with my standoffishness. What should I do?” But Jenna didn’t need an answer that Percy couldn’t give anyway. It was time for honesty. If Slade bothered to call her again, she would admit trying the advice in the book. Perhaps they could start over without all of this trickery between them. Jenna pushed herself to a standing position. “If he can’t love me without the book, then it isn’t real.” Why was it suddenly so important that he love her for herself? She had set out to marry Slade to save this store. Even though she’d had a school girl crush on him for years, it hadn’t gone deeper than that. But somewhere between their laughter and his getting knocked over by a wave, she’d been knocked over by love. “I love him.” Her whisper filled the empty store. Percy was the only one to hear and he would never repeat her confidence.

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CHAPTER 10 How stupid could he be? Was he actually considering interfering in Jenna’s weekend? He planned to propose to her. Of course he did. Slade swallowed with difficulty. But shouldn’t he wait until she returned from her weekend? No. That might be too late. Find Ms. Right sat benevolently on his night stand. Prickles of awareness pinched at the back of his neck. Almost as if the book was staring at him, demanding allegiance. His laugh broke the silence in the empty room. “Ridiculous. It’s just a book.” The blue cover glowed with a glossy sheen. Slade strode to the night stand, hefted the book in one hand, and threw it in 118

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the direction of the trash can. Chloe would watch Emily in the interests of what she dubbed true love. Slade called her and arranged to have her stop by. He was tired of playing games. It was time to be honest with Jenna. She either wanted him for himself or not at all. If he had to use a book to catch her, he would never be certain if she wanted him or the pretend person from the book. And the real Slade Walker, the one who didn’t take advice from a book, was going to stop Jenna from going away with Thatch. Or at least, give it his best shot. *

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Jenna had just flipped the sign on the door to closed when a tight-fisted pounding resounded through The Tome Home. Fear fluttered through her. Crime was almost nonexistent in Miracles Landing, but, like any place, sometimes outsiders came in and committed misdeeds. Just last summer, someone had pounded on the door of the ice cream parlor shortly after closing. When Nancy Baer, the owner, had answered the door, two men in masks had forced their way in, taken all her cash, and roughed her up. “Who’s there?” No one answered. Maybe she’d just been reading too many mysteries lately. Heart rapping furiously, she stood indecisively. The pounding started again, louder this time. She threw a glance at Percy. “Why couldn’t you be a guard 119

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dog right about now? Maybe a Rottweiler or at least a German Shepherd.” Percy mewed and blinked his green eyes. “Somehow, I don’t think that’ll scare them, Percy.” Jenna straightened her shoulders. Should she run? Hide? No. That wasn’t her style. She would have to face whoever it was. Reaching underneath the counter, she fished out a heavy encyclopedia. She curled her fingers around it in a tight grip, testing its weight with an up and down motion. It must weigh five pounds. Slammed over an unsuspecting burglar’s head, it would buy her enough time to call the sheriff. Edging toward the door with tiny, scuffling steps, she leaned over and turned the lock. The dead bolt slid out of its casing with a deafening snap. Jenna hurried to stand behind the curtained glass door. She would knock whoever it was over the head. Raising the book over her head with both arms, she waited. A heavy shuffling tread took one step and then two. A dark form appeared. On the count of three she would bring the book down. One. Two… “Jenna?” Slade. She had almost knocked Slade unconscious. Her arms trembled with the effort of restraining the blow she’d prepared them to dispense. “I’m here.” She lowered the book. “Why didn’t you answer me when I asked who was there?” “I didn’t hear you. What are you doing?” His dark hair was slightly mussed, as if he’d been running his fingers through it. 120

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Jenna bit her lip in embarrassment. “I thought you were a robber.” Slade laughed. “And you were going to knock me out with a book?” “Well, I was going to try.” “When was the last robbery in Miracles Landing?” Slade hooked his thumbs through his belt loops and rocked back and forth on his heels. “Last summer.” Jenna could feel her cheeks growing warmer. “And you think a burglar would knock on the front door?” “You never know.” Slade laughed again, moving a step closer to her. “Well, I’m not a burglar.” “No.” Her mouth was suddenly dry. Jenna swallowed. The scent of his citrusy cologne was fogging her thinking. A step closer. Another step. He was only a breath away. If Jenna leaned forward, stood on her tiptoes, their lips would be pressed together. “Jenna.” Slade’s arms came up and encircled her shoulders. She swayed against him, closed her eyes, and breathed deeply of citrus and male. He gently unwrapped her fingers from the encyclopedia and let it drop to the floor. Jenna wrapped her arms around his neck and let her fingers entwine in the slightly wavy hair at his nape. 121

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He lowered his head, his lips resting in the space just above hers. Their breath mingled in a sensuous dance of intimacy. Kiss me, Jenna thought. Slade stood motionless, almost kissing her, but yet not. “Jenna, don’t go.” His words tickled her lips like a whispery phantom kiss. Struggling to keep eyelids open that wanted to droop from passion, Jenna focused her whirling thoughts on his words. Don’t go. “Stay here with me and Emily.” A tiny thrill of triumph raced through her. The book did work. It never failed. Each time she started to doubt it, something happened and it proved itself. Or its advice did. The author must have been a genius. “It’s just a weekend, Slade.” Jenna almost swayed as she felt the words leave in a tiny puff and slam up against the barrier of his mouth, sending them back to her in a gentle stir of air. “Don’t go.” His eyes at such a close perspective weren’t only green but swirled with tiny flecks of pale amber gold. “Why?” “Stay here. Marry me.” The words floated around in her head for a minute, struggled to break free of her desire-clouded befuddlement, before sinking in and repeating in her head. Marry me. Marry me. Marry me. Slade had proposed. The elation Jenna had expected to feel was flat. She should 122

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be thrilled. The goal she’d been working so hard for was about to come true. Her store would be saved. She would have Slade and Emily. So, why wasn’t she more jubilant? “Why?” Why did he want to marry her? Was it because she’d followed the advice of the book? Or was it because she was Jenna and nothing more? Slade pulled back the tiniest bit from her. “You’re special, Jenna. There’s something different about you. Totally unique from any other woman I’ve ever known.” There most definitely was something special about her. Special was called How to Wed a Man of Means. And the book had done its job admirably. Slade dropped to one knee and clasped her left hand, reaching into his pocket with the other. He pulled out a tiny black velvet box. “Jenna, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” His thumb snapped the lid open to reveal a ring nestled in more black velvet. Jenna stared unseeingly at the glistening jewels on the ring. It was gorgeous—a large round diamond nestled in a circle of light-reflecting rubies. She was going to accept. Of course she was. She had to. It was the only way to save The Tome Home. Had to? She loved Slade. Loved Emily. But did he love her? He had said she was special, but he hadn’t mentioned love. What advice had the book given for handling a proposal? Rule number sixteen: When he asks for your hand, pause 123

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as though you are considering the offer. Then graciously accept, but don’t act too exuberant. Well, she had certainly paused. Slade gripped her fingers so tightly, she was certain she would have bruises tomorrow. Now, all she had to do was to graciously accept. She smiled at him. “Yes.” Slade blinked for a moment. Had he expected her to say no? Then he slid the ring on her finger, placed a kiss on top of it, his lips caressing her nervously clammy flesh, and rose to his feet. Taking her in his arms, he lifted her and swung her in a wide circle. “Mrs. Slade Walker.” His eyes glowed with triumph, and Jenna felt that stirring of misgiving again. Did he only want her because she’d been a challenge? What happened when the challenge was over? Would he be faithful? “How soon can we get married?” Slade stopped whirling them, but still held her off the ground. Her length was pressed against his solid strength. Be cool, she told herself. It wouldn’t do to appear too eager. They weren’t married yet. He could still change his mind if she made a wrong move. “When would you like to get married?” She wet her dry lips with the tip of her tongue. “Today?” Jenna laughed. “I don’t think that’s possible.” “I don’t want a long engagement. I need a wife. And Emily 124

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needs a mother.” Jenna frowned. He needed a wife. Not he loved her and couldn’t wait. Jenna pushed down her doubts. It didn’t matter. He could learn to love her. Until he did, she had enough love for both of them. “A month?” Jenna suggested. “If I have to wait that long…” “I’d like a small ceremony, if that’s okay.” Her parents had always dreamed of giving their daughters big weddings. The least Jenna could do was invite a few family friends and get married in a church. “Sweetheart, you can have a bigger wedding than Princess Di, if you want.” “Just a few close friends in a church will be fine.” “One month. That’s as long as I’ll wait.” Slade placed a firm kiss on her lips. “And what if I say longer?” Jenna raised her brows. “Then I kidnap you and take you to Vegas. Hold you at gun point if I have to. But you marry me.” He grinned devilishly. “Your choice.” “Hmmm…somehow it seems I win either way.” “Exactly. If you consider me a prize.” He looked suddenly vulnerable and Jenna couldn’t resist the maternal instinct that rose in her. She hugged him and stroked a stray lock of black hair off his forehead. “You are definitely a prize.” Slade smiled, deep grooves dimpling his cheeks. “And Emily.” 125

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Jenna smiled gently. “Are you worried that being a mother to Emily might be too much for me?” “I know it’s a lot to ask. When you marry me, you get an instant family.” She laid a palm against his cheek and gazed into his eyes, intent on clearing up any doubts he might have about her and Emily. “I love Emily. I’ll be the best mother I can to her.” “I know you will, Jenna. Otherwise I wouldn’t have asked you to marry me.” They smiled at each other, standing in the open doorway, and shared another kiss. And another. *

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Slade brushed his lips over Jenna’s, feeling her instant response. Her arms curled around his shoulders and she pressed herself against him from shoulder to knees. Her soft, full mouth clung to his, sending heat burning through him. She’d accepted his proposal. He ran his hand possessively up and down her back. She’d actually accepted. No fancy proposal. Just a simple utterance. Pleasure sang through his nerve endings for a moment before being doused by self-doubt. But had she said yes because of him or because of the book? Remembering that first day in her bookstore, when he had asked her for a date and she’d turned him down flat, made his pulse hammer. She hadn’t acted very interested in him. Then he’d gone home and followed the advice of the book and she’d agreed to go out with him. And on those first few 126

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dates she’d been reserved, holding a part of herself back from him. He frowned, pulled away from their kiss and buried his face in her lavender-scented hair. The soft strands clung to his face, caressing his hot cheeks. He hugged her closer, not wanting her to sense the reservations flooding through him. Would she have ever agreed to go out with him if he hadn’t used the book? Would she have agreed to marry him? But the proposal had been all his own! It hadn’t been original or clever or even witty. It had been honest. But had he set precedence by following the book’s advice? Had the dates and the occasions set the stage for a play with a pre-written conclusion? “I should probably get home. Chloe is watching Emily.” Jenna’s smile was soft and tender, her eyes glowing with a joyous radiance. She appeared to be happy about their engagement. “Will you tell her about our engagement?” Her voice sounded breathless, unsure. “Tell her? She practically walked me down here herself.” Jenna laughed and that soft, tinkling sound released the knot of tension that had housed itself just below his heart. He reached up a hand and ran his knuckles over her cheekbone. “I’ll call you tomorrow.” “Okay.” Jenna followed him to the door. Slade leaned over and gave her a tender parting kiss, barely reining in his desire for her. But there was an untouched quality about her that held him back; a glow in her 127

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cheeks and eyes that spoke of innocence. Giving her a jaunty wave, he stepped back and headed toward his house. He heard the satisfying sound of the bolt being engaged into the lock. An amused laugh escaped his dry throat. A soft white mist drifted into shore and obscured his shoes as his feet clicked lightly on the cobblestones. Now that she’d agreed to marry him, his nanny problem was solved. She would stay at home and care for Emily. A satisfied smile tipped up the corners of his mouth. His life was finally falling into place. *

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Did he want her? Or was it the magic of the book? Jenna scowled at the manual, lying half-open on the counter. “You have been absolutely no help.” She walked toward the counter and flipped the book shut. Instead of being deliriously happy about Slade’s proposal, she found herself resenting it. She didn’t want to marry him under false pretenses. She didn’t want to start a marriage with lies and game playing. He hadn’t even said he loved her. Because he didn’t? Unable to resist the lure of the book, Jenna flipped it back open. Rule number nineteen: It is better to capture the man you fancy than to let him go. Rubbing her hands briskly over her arms, Jenna tried to combat the chill that swept over her in rising goose prickles. According to the book, she should just marry Slade. Forget any misgivings. Don’t worry about trickery. Simply marry 128

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him. A warning insisted on niggling at her conscience. Jenna shoved her misgivings into a room in her mind, slammed the door and rolled a large, heavy rock in front to block their escape. She would marry Slade. There was no turning back. She’d invested too much time and energy in getting him to court her. The bookstore was too far in debt to consider any other alternatives. And she was head over heels in love with him. She couldn’t imagine life without him and Emily. The appointment with the caterer was at two o’clock. Slade was supposed to meet her there, so they could choose the menu for their wedding feast and pick out a cake. Jenna opened How to Wed and flipped to the section on what to do after the proposal. Rule number eighteen: Stay calm and reserved during the hectic time of planning the wedding. Allow him to help in some of the decision making. Grooms rarely get a chance to have any input in their own weddings. He will think you’re progressive and fall more deeply in love with you. Jenna grinned. More out-of-date advice. Too bad there wasn’t advice on how to act on your wedding night. Jenna’s experience in that area was by choice lacking, unless you counted reading about love scenes in books. A ripple of fear crawled through her. Would she disappoint him? Jenna took a deep breath and turned to face the full-length mirror in the far corner of her bedroom. She ran a hand down her side, outlining firm breasts, a narrow waist and slightly swelling hips. She tilted her head to the side, gathered her hair 129

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on top of her head and formed her lips into a pout. “What are you doing?” Jenna dropped her hair and jumped back at the sound of Amy’s amused voice. “Nothing.” “Funny. It really looked like you were posing.” Jenna shrugged, trying to force the heat crawling into her cheeks to subside. “I know it couldn’t have been for wedding pictures. Are you planning to do some lingerie modeling?” Jenna threw her sister a glare. “You know I’m not.” “So what exactly were you doing?” “Trying to look tempting?” Jenna wasn’t able to control the heated flush that spread over her face this time. She could feel its warmth as it flooded her cheeks. “Well, it definitely needs some work because you looked ridiculous.” Jenna groaned and sat down on the bed. Amy took a few steps into the room and placed her hands on her hips. “I don’t know the first thing about how to attract a man and I’m about to be married.” “Excellent time to learn.” “It’s not funny, Ames. What if he doesn’t want me?” “He wants you, Jenna. Why else would he ask you to marry him?” “I honestly don’t know why he asked me.” Amy’s lips parted in a surprised gasp. “You’re joking, right? Haven’t you seen the way he looks at you?” Amy rolled her eyes in disgust. 130

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“How does he look at me?” Jenna felt a fresh surge of hope well in her heart. “Like it’s a hundred and eight degrees and you’re a big ice cream cone.” Jenna giggled infectiously and Amy joined in. “Does he really look at me like that?” Jenna asked in wonder. “Yes. So I wouldn’t bother with poses. The man wants you just as you are.” Amy patted Jenna on the shoulder and left the room. Jenna frowned. But that was the problem. Did he want her just as she was, or did he want her as the book had made her appear? A sigh welled up from the innermost core of her soul and escaped. *

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“Emily, what sounds better? Lemon or orange filling?” Slade laid aside the brochure on wedding cakes and lifted his daughter from her walker. “Da.” “That’s what I thought.” He grinned as she showed off her new bottom tooth and held her arms out to him. Pressing her mouth to his cheek she gave him a slobbery kiss and patted his back with her tiny hand. “Oh, sweetheart, you are Daddy’s angel.” His heart turned over in response to Emily’s open affection. “You’re going to love having Jenna for a mommy.” “Da?” Emily gave her usual one syllable response. 131

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“Yes. She is nice. I agree. No more switching nannies every month for you, kiddo. It’s Mommy or bust from now on.” “Da.” “Daddy just needs to read something real quick before we leave, sugar.” He trotted into his bedroom and retrieved the item off his night stand. Slade bent the cover back on Find Ms. Right. He’d broken down and dug it out of the trash yesterday afternoon. Not that it had ever been in imminent danger since his bedroom trash can rarely needed emptied. He might want Jenna to marry him for himself and not the book, but he wasn’t willing to risk losing her because he blundered. He would consult the book until after they were married. Rule number fifteen: Let her plan your wedding. Women love to organize. Makes her feel important. Slade almost burst out laughing. The advice seemed so ridiculous. Wasn’t it generalizing about all women when that could be an individual preference? He tilted his head back and looked at his daughter. “What do you think, Em? Do women love to organize? You’d know this better than I.” Should he ask Jenna how she felt about his help? Or would she feel obligated to offer to let him make some decisions, whether she really wanted him involved or not? His brows drew together in agonized concentration. He’d better just follow the advice of the book. It had worked so far, 132

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hadn’t it? *

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Jenna’s brain was beginning to fog over from the countless number of items they had to choose from for their wedding dinner. And this was a small wedding. What would it be like to plan a big one? A total nightmare that must be. She was seriously considering taking Slade up on his option of being kidnapped and taken to Las Vegas. An elopement was beginning to sound like a walk in the park compared to planning a simple ceremony. “So you have it narrowed down to the seafood or the chicken?” The caterer was a neat, little man with bottomless patience in the face of her indecisiveness. Thank goodness she had Slade to help her make a final decision. “What do you think, Slade? Seafood or chicken?” Slade’s eyes shuttered and he quickly bent to tuck a thin blanket around Emily’s sleeping form in her reclined stroller. He mumbled and she had to lean over to catch his response. “I don’t care. Whatever you want.” Surprise siphoned the blood from her brain, stopped its functioning for a moment. Anger quickly pumped the blood back in with a red-hot force. He didn’t care? He was supposed to be helping plan this wedding. The book said he was. So far she’d made all the decisions. Perhaps he thought she didn’t want his help. But hadn’t she just asked for it? Her annoyance with him heightened when she realized her hands were 133

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shaking. “The seafood.” Her voice sounded decisive, but she almost shouted right away for the caterer to change it to chicken. Only the painful clamp of her teeth on her tongue prevented her from doing so. “Okay, love birds, now the cake. We have some displays set up or we can design one if you have something special in mind.” Jenna closed her eyes and held in a groan. The cake. This would be an even harder choice. Judging from the fact Slade remained in his seat next to Emily, Jenna surmised it was another decision she would make solo. “You can have vanilla or chocolate cake.” The man began with the basics and Jenna almost screamed and ran from the room in fright. “Slade, which do you prefer?” “I don’t care.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Whatever you want.” Jenna wondered briefly what the wedding would be like if she murdered her groom. She wanted to thump him on top of his bent, dark head. Her eyes narrowed and her shoulders stiffened. She would get a decision out of him if it was the last thing she did before she collapsed in an untidy heap on the floor. “Well, then, what do you like—white or chocolate cake?” Slade’s head jerked up and his gaze slammed into hers. Panic flitted across his tough features. What’s he scared of, Jenna wondered. Surely he didn’t 134

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think she was so power hungry she wanted to make all the decisions. “Please, Slade. I’m really overwhelmed here.” She spread her hands out to encompass the showroom filled with displays. “Why don’t you get both?” he suggested. Both. Now why hadn’t she thought of that? “We’ll take both.” The caterer clucked his tongue and wagged his head. “That is highly irregular. Most couples choose one or the other.” Jenna’s lips twisted. In other words, it was more work for him if they chose both. “Are you saying you can’t do it?” She let her words hang in the air. It was an idle threat, and they both knew it. She was lucky to have found a caterer at all on such short notice. She didn’t have the luxury of going to his competitors. “We can do it.” His eyes were cold and cutting. Jenna gave him a triumphant smile before she could help herself. The man rubbed her the wrong way with his pompous airs and slight ridicule, as if he were better than anyone else. It felt nice to win a small victory. His nose inched higher, if that were possible. “Now, a filling. We have orange and lemon.” Jenna glanced at Slade, but he avoided her eyes. She sighed. “Orange.” “How many guests do you expect?” “It will be small.” Jenna frowned. “Around fifty, I suppose.” “Then I suggest a three-tier. You save the top tier for your 135

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first anniversary. You eat it for luck. The other two will provide enough for about seventy-five guests just in case your calculations are off.” “Sounds perfect.” Well, that had been easy. “Our three-tiers are displayed on this side of the store.” The man pointed to about twenty-five different cakes. Jenna threw another panicked glance toward Slade, but he still refused to look at her. Furious with him, she turned to face the cakes as if preparing for battle. Hands on hips, gaze focused. She could do this. It wasn’t like she was making a decision that would affect millions of lives or cause world ruin. She was buying a wedding cake, for goodness sake. “That one.” She pointed decisively at a simple white frosted cake with tiny pale pink bells on top of each layer and a shell-like trim around the top and bottom of each round cake. The man noted her selection and confirmed the time of the dinner. “The dinner is before the wedding?” He pulled at his tie. “How different.” “Well, we’re having a midnight wedding, so after would be too late.” “Yes. A midnight wedding. Different.” He walked away shaking his head. Jenna had always wanted a midnight wedding. She planned to walk down the aisle holding a candle instead of a bouquet, and her sisters, who were serving as maids of honor, would hold candles as well. She supposed it was different. 136

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She glanced at Slade, wondering if he thought so. It was hard to know what he was thinking. He had barely spoken a word since they’d been here. Was he having second thoughts about marrying her? *

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Slade was having second thoughts. Perhaps he should help Jenna with the decisions on the wedding. She’d looked so overwhelmed and helpless for a moment standing in front of the vast selection of cakes. Then she’d thrown her shoulders back and chosen a simple but elegant ensemble. Precisely what he would have chosen. She stopped a few paces from him, glaring at him with a murderous gleam in her eye. Wasn’t she supposed to appreciate his not interfering with the wedding plans? Then why did she look like she could cheerfully strangle him? He glanced down at her fists. She was actually clenching and unclenching them as if she planned to do just that. “I have a fitting for my dress. I don’t suppose you’d care to pick up the invitations from the printer?” The book said not to make any decisions. It didn’t mention picking up invitations. He grinned in relief. He could be involved to a degree then. “I’d be glad to.” Her violet eyes softened a little and she offered him a wobbly smile. Slade searched her pinched features and realized she was close to tears. Burning guilt tore through him. He should have ignored that insane book and helped her 137

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choose a cake. This was crazy. Weddings were supposed to be joyous, not stressful. “Let’s forget the wedding for one night and break loose.” He grabbed her hands impulsively and pulled her close. “Break loose?” Her smile quivered but held. “Go walk on the beach barefoot and splash in the waves.” Jenna laid a hand along his jaw. “Slade, I’d love to, but I have to address those invitations tonight or they won’t get out in time.” Slade felt an odd twinge of disappointment. But she was right, a month was not much time to plan a wedding, and there were too many things that still needed to be finished and only two weeks to accomplish them. Sudden inspiration struck him. “I could help. We’d get finished in half the time and could still go for that walk.” Her face brightened. “Good idea.” Slade hoped he wasn’t breaking any rules by addressing invitations. Surely not. What could it hurt? *

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Slade set the cardboard box of invitations on Jenna’s coffee table and grinned at her. “Ready to get to work?” She groaned. “Yes. Let’s get this over with. I couldn’t badger Hope and Amy into helping us.” “Let’s divide the list. Probably easier that way.” Slade ripped the page in two and handed Jenna the larger side playfully. 138

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“Hey, that’s not fair.” She chuckled and punched him in the arm. Slade dropped a quick kiss on her cheek and exchanged the long list for the short one. It was wonderful to hear her laugh again. Laughter had been in short supply since the wedding madness had started. “Better. You’ll make a wonderful husband after all.” Jenna flipped the lid off the cardboard box and lifted an invitation from the top. “They’re gorgeous.” Her eyes grew dreamy. Slade glanced over her shoulder at the pair of doves holding two gold rings in their mouths. The rings were intertwined. Jenna had chosen the invitations. He’d had an important meeting that day. Probably a good thing since he hadn’t read rule number fifteen, and he’d probably have offered all sorts of unwanted advice. Jenna gently parted the rings and the invitation folded out. Slade read the verse out loud, “Two hearts intertwined, soon to become one. Two rings of gold represent eternity. Jenna R. McBay and Slade Douglas Walker cordially invite you to join in the celebration of their vows of love to one another. On Saturday, June fourteenth, eighteen hundred and…” He trailed off. Jenna slapped her hand to her forehead. “No. Tell me they didn’t mess the invitations up. We don’t have time to have more printed.” Her eyes pooled with tears, and she swallowed hard several times. Her misery was so acute that it reached out and 139

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touched his heart. Slade grasped her arms and turned her to face him. She buried her head against his chest and sniffled. Patting her on the back, he stroked her hair. “Just let it out. You need a good cry.” “I’m ready to elope to Vegas now.” “We could do that.” Slade rubbed his chin over the top of her head, realizing that deep inside she didn’t mean it. She merely needed to let off steam. “But Amy and Hope would be so disappointed at not being bridesmaids.” She sniffed. Lifting her tear-stained face, she offered him a watery smile. Slade dropped gentle kisses on each of her eyelids, trying to stop the flow of tears. “We’ll take them with us. They’d probably enjoy a vacation.” “And my dress is almost ready.” “We’ll take that too.” Jenna giggled and then sobered. “If it wasn’t for my parents’ dreams, I wouldn’t be in this mess.” “Your parents?” “They wanted each of their girls to have church weddings.” “I see.” And he did. Jenna was trying to keep her parents alive by keeping their dreams alive. And if a wedding meant that much to her, he could stand two more weeks of this insanity. “But who’d have thought it would be this hard.” A single, 140

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leftover tear slipped out of the corner of her eye and rolled down her cheek. “It’ll get easier,” he promised. It couldn’t get much worse. Besides, everything was planned now. They simply had to get the invitations out and wait until the big day. “We’ll make an insert for the invitations. Use the eighteen hundred mistake to our advantage,” he said with sudden inspiration. “How?” Jenna frowned, still looking uncertain. “We’ll tell them to dress in clothing from the era and that the ceremony will even be in candlelight.” “But we were going to do that anyway,” she pointed out. “But they don’t know that.” Jenna tilted her head to one side, chewing on her lower lip. “You know, I think it just might work.” “Great! Would Amy mind if we used her computer?” “No. She lets me use it to make up flyers for book sales anyway.” They quickly drafted an insert and addressed the invitations. Jenna sat back with an exhausted sigh. “I am so glad that is over.” “Me too.” Sliding an arm around her shoulders, he tugged her toward him. Jenna came willingly, snuggling against his shoulder. She fit so perfectly, it was almost as if they’d already spent hundreds of years achieving the exact positioning. She raised her face and he lowered his lips to hers, 141

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drinking in the taste of strawberries and chocolate. Running his tongue over her teeth, he urged her to open to him. Jenna complied, a tiny whimper of longing escaping her. Slade shifted slightly, lifting her and pulling her into his lap. Jenna wrapped her arms around his neck and scooted closer. Jenna unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt and ran her fingertips along the rapidly beating pulse in his throat. Slade almost came off the couch at her slight caress. Leaving her lips, he trailed burning kisses across her jaw and down her throat. Jenna tilted her head to allow him easier access. Slade buried his hands in her luxuriously thick tresses and shifted her closer. It was impossible to get close enough. The sharp sound of a closing car door startled him. He paused at the sound of voices. Pushing Jenna off his lap and back onto the couch, he dropped a kiss on the end of her nose at her dazed look. “Straighten yourself, darling. One of your sisters just pulled in the driveway.” Jenna flushed a furious scarlet and frantically pulled her hair back into place. Slade sat back and watched her with a devilish grin on his face. He couldn’t help himself. She looked so adorable, blushing and flustered. The front door flew open and Amy strode into the living room, her eyes snapping, and hair almost standing on end. She stopped in surprise when she noticed the two of them seated on the couch. She slammed the front door behind her with such force Slade glanced to make sure the frame wasn’t split. “What’s wrong, Amy?” Jenna’s well-defined brows drew 142

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together. “That ignoramus. Stupid, small-town football hero.” Jenna laughed. “I assume you mean Thatch. He’s hardly small-town anymore.” Amy threw Jenna a scorching glare, and Slade found himself wanting to block the look with his body to protect Jenna. But apparently Jenna was immune to any dirty looks from her sisters. She continued without pause. “What cardinal rule did Thatch break?” “He had the nerve, the gall, to stop and help me when my car was broke down. Can you believe him?” “How unchivalrous of him,” Slade couldn’t resist commenting. He was rewarded with another furious glare, this one directed at him. Amy placed her hands on her hips. “I am not some helpless female who can’t take care of herself. I can fix my own car or find someone who will. Conceited, arrogant…” Her voice faded as she stormed down the hall to her room. A muffled slam echoed a few moments later. “I take it that she and Thatch do not get along?” Slade chuckled. “No. And she’s furious he’s giving me away. I don’t think she’ll ever forgive me.” Slade felt his smile wilting by degrees. Thatch was giving her away? Of all the people in this town she could have asked, why Thatch? He wouldn’t allow it. This was his wedding and his bride. He would not have Thatch stealing any moment of it. 143

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“No. Find someone else.” Jenna’s eyes grew cold and narrowed dangerously. “What did you say?” “I will not have Thatcher Tyson give my bride away.” “Why not? Don’t be ridiculous, Slade.” He clipped the words out, trying to hold onto his control. He wanted to rant and rave and scream. Every time he turned a corner, Thatcher was on the other side, leaning against a wall, two steps ahead of him. He clenched his jaw. “You know how I feel about Thatcher.” Jenna shook her head. “But I don’t understand it. Thatch has nothing but respect for you.” Sure. That was his story. Slade wondered what other lines of bull he’d been feeding to Jenna. He bounded to his feet and pointed a finger under Jenna’s nose. “I will not have him give you away, and that’s final.” Jenna sniffed, crossed her arms under her chest and looked totally unimpressed. “It isn’t your decision.” “I mean it, Jenna.” “Or what?” Slade felt anger coursing through him. He tried to ride it out. He knew he had a fierce temper. It would blaze brightly. He’d say things he didn’t mean, things he’d regret. And then suddenly that same anger would evaporate. If he could just wait it out, he could deal with this new development in a calm and rational manner. But the anger was too overwhelming at the moment and his mouth opened as if of its own volition. “Then find 144

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someone else to marry.” He grabbed his car keys and strode out the front door, slamming it with as much force as Amy had on her way in. He felt a moment’s sympathy for the wood frame. It was suffering some abuse tonight. And all in the name of Thatcher Tyson. *

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The door slammed behind Slade and Jenna let her head drop into her hands. She’d handled that badly. Instead of attacking Slade, she should have explained her reasons for wanting Thatch to give her away. She sniffed. Now she’d backed herself into a corner and forced Slade into giving her an ultimatum. She’d either have to disappoint Thatch, who was looking forward to playing the role of father-of-the-bride, or she’d have to risk losing Slade. Misery settled like a lump of coal in the bottom of her heart. Why did he have to be so unreasonable about this? She’d known he and Thatcher didn’t get along. Was Slade envious of Thatch? Did he wish he’d gone on to play professional football? She sat on the couch with the ready-to-be-mailed invitations spread on the table in front of her. She spent a good hour thinking over the situation, but didn’t come up with any definitive answers. Finally, her head aching, she gathered the addressed envelopes into a pile. Ready to push up from the couch, she was startled by the jangle of the telephone. Picking it up with shaky fingers, she pressed its cool plastic to her ear. 145

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“Hello?” Her voice came out sounding unfamiliar. “Jenna.” Slade’s voice was raspy, filled with some unknown emotion. “I’m sorry. Just forget I said anything, okay?” Jenna released her breath. Relief coursed through her. She swallowed hard, tears slowly finding their way down her cheeks. “I’m sorry, too, Slade. I wasn’t thinking when I asked Thatch to give me away.” His voice was low and smooth. “I was being unreasonable, sweetheart. The horror of it is, I knew it, but couldn’t help myself. This wedding just has us both on edge.” “I want you to understand why I asked Thatch of all people,” she rushed. Silence greeted her on the other end—stretched, lengthened. “Why?” His voice was almost a whisper when it came. “Because his father and my father were best friends,” she choked out, opening wide the door to the despair of losing her parents that was never fully closed. “I guess it made me feel a little like my father would be there. He loved Thatch like a son.” “You still miss them, don’t you?” Slade’s voice was warmer, understanding. Jenna clutched the phone in a painfully tight grip. “Yes. Very much.” “I understand now, Jenna. It’s okay, darling. Really it is.” “You’re sure?” She didn’t want them to fight. The wedding was so close, and if he really did only love her 146

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because of the book…well, fights weren’t good. “I’m positive.” They said goodbye and Jenna hung up the phone, feeling uneasiness sweep over her in wave after blinding wave, despite their reconciliation. She couldn’t help but wonder what would go wrong next. *

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“What do you mean you seem to have misplaced my dress?” Jenna’s voice rose with each word. “Don’t get yourself in an uproar, Jenna. We’ll find it.” “How do you lose a wedding dress?” Jenna asked, exasperation weighing on her temples, making them pound. It was three days until the wedding, and they had lost her dress. “It may have been mistakenly given to another customer.” Jenna rolled her eyes to the ceiling and counted to ten to keep from screaming. “What will we do if it isn’t found?” “We’ll have to try to get another dress ready.” Jenna wanted to cry, stamp her feet, and throw a threeyear-old style temper tantrum. But none of that would get her dress back. “I’ll help you look for it. If it isn’t found, we’d best pick another one.” She’d really loved that dress. A search conducted from the top to the bottom of the store didn’t unearth the dress and Jenna was forced to choose another one, which was pretty enough, but didn’t send that tiny thrill of anticipation through her heart that the other dress had. She left the shop felling dispirited, trampled on and minute 147

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by minute realizing that eloping to Vegas had its definite advantages. This wedding had been plagued with mix-ups and bad news from the beginning. Jenna stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. Was someone trying to send her a message? Perhaps the wedding wasn’t meant to take place. She gave a firm shake of her head and resumed walking. She didn’t care. She would marry Slade Walker and not Fate or Destiny or any other person, place, thing, or event would stop her. Arriving at The Tome Home, she found a slightly flustered clerk from the county office. “Jenna, you and Slade have got to come back to the office quick and resubmit your paperwork for the marriage license. You have just enough time to get it in before the wedding.” Jenna glanced up at the sky, half expecting it to fall down on her. “Why do we have to redo our paperwork?” The clerk blushed profusely and began stumbling all over herself with apologies. “I was hot so I opened a window. It was windier than I thought and some of the papers on my desk went scattering everywhere. Your application was lost. I’m so sorry.” Jenna groaned. “I’ll call Slade. Thanks for coming down here.” She rushed into the store and dialed the number for the Widow’s Walk. Slade’s secretary connected her through to his office. “Jenna. Hi, sweetheart.” Jenna quickly filled him in on the details of the overheated clerk catastrophe and he agreed to meet her there at lunch time 148

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to re-file the paperwork. “Cheer up, Jenna. What else could possibly go wrong?” Jenna groaned. “Don’t ask that. Don’t ever ask that. Because you will find out.” *

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Slade leaned back in the captain’s chair and smiled at Emily before popping a piece of toast with apricot jam in his mouth. “Daddy gets married today.” “Da-da.” “If you could walk, we’d let you be flower girl, punkin. But I can assure you we will not be going through another wedding just to give you the opportunity. I was scared Jenna was going to have a stroke before they found her dress yesterday. Then where would we be? Without a mommy.” Emily grabbed the bottle sitting on her highchair tray and plopped it into her mouth, sucking greedily. “Jenna will make a great Mommy for you, sweetie. I’m certain of it.” He winked at her. “Ma-ma-ma-ma-ma-ma-ma-ma-ma-ma,” Emily crowed, breaking into a huge grin, obviously pleased with herself for mastering the new sound. Slade clapped with delight. She was so smart. “That’s right, Em. You said it. Jenna will be so thrilled. Just in time, too. That’s Daddy’s smart girl.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and Emily made a grab for his toast. “Nope. You aren’t big enough for this yet. I’ll bet it does 149

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taste better than that formula, though.” Emily stared at him with large hazel eyes that seemed to say, Quit talking and give me some real food. Slade chuckled and ruffled her baby fine hair. His uncle was due to fly in from Ontario today to marry them. Jenna had agreed that, since his uncle was a preacher, it was only fitting they be married by a member of the family. He needed to pick him up from the airport—he glanced at his watch—in about an hour. Gladys Primrose, his widowed neighbor, had offered to watch Emily until after the wedding. Then Chloe would take over and keep Emily during their honeymoon. The nearest airport was Woodside. Slade was thankful his uncle’s plane would arrive early in the day. He would have plenty of time to get Alex settled and get to the church for the pre-wedding dinner. The eleven o’clock arrival time for Alex Walker’s plane came and went without the plane. At eleven-thirty, Slade made his way to the ticket counter to find out what the delay was. “Bad weather. Terrible thunder storms. His flight has been delayed.” Slade winced. The delay would eat into his time before the wedding. He shrugged. That was okay. He still had plenty of time. He didn’t need to be to the dinner until ten. *

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Jenna slid into the cherry-red suit, careful not to muss the hair she’d spent all afternoon at the beauty shop having styled. 150

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She would don her wedding dress after the pre-wedding dinner. She glanced at the digital clock on her night stand. Nineforty-five. She needed to be at the reception hall by ten. Her stomach fluttered nervously. Slade had not called her today. She had half-expected him to and the fact he hadn’t had her nerves in a jangle. What if he’d changed his mind at the last minute? No. Slade wouldn’t do that. He was too honorable. He would have the decency to tell her. He’d never leave her to face a church full of guests in her humiliation. He would be there. Amy would bring the wedding gown to the church. The candle bouquets were already in the dressing room there. It was all set. Jenna took a deep, steadying breath. This was it— the day she married Slade. She glanced around the bedroom she’d slept in for most of her life. Familiar items were packed away in boxes, ready to be shipped over to Slade’s house. The only familiar items were her floral bedspread and the large oval mirror that had belonged to her mother. “Goodbye, Mom and Dad,” she whispered into the silent room. A tightly held knot of grief released from her. She was leaving one life behind to begin another. She had accomplished her goal of fulfilling her parents’ dreams. Now it was time to fulfill a few of her own. Jenna glanced in the mirror and noted the suddenly decadent grin that touched her lips. A few dreams and a few 151

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fantasies. On the tail end of the wicked smile was a slightly nervous one. Her stomach muscles clenched—the wedding night. Jenna swallowed. *

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Ten o’clock. He was supposed to be at the dinner. What would Jenna be thinking? She probably thought he’d stood her up. He’d tried to call numerous times, but her phone had been busy. He’d even dialed the operator and asked her to interrupt whoever was talking because it was an emergency, but she had informed him that the phone was off the hook. Jenna had no need of a cell phone most of the time and didn’t carry one, so there was no other way to reach her at the moment. His stomach churned with anxiety and frustration. Maybe she’d changed her mind about marrying him and wasn’t at the reception anyway. Perhaps she’d taken the phone off the hook to avoid his calls. No. Jenna wouldn’t do that. She was too honest. She would just tell him to his face rather than embarrassing him. The doors to the gangway opened and Slade rushed forward, his eyes scanning the departing passengers for his uncle’s tall figure. “Slade, I feel terrible about this.” Alex Walker gave Slade a huge bear hug, lifting him off the ground. He ruffled Emily’s hair. “Hey, Emily.” “No problem. But let’s get the heck out of here and to the church.” Alex laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners into 152

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frequently used laugh lines. “I can see you’re anxious to get married. That’s reassuring. Luckily, I just have this one carryon.” He held up a small black bag. Slade forced a smile and tried to hurry his uncle along. Was Jenna okay? God, please don’t let her leave. *

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Jenna sat at the wedding table, trying to look at ease and happy. Couples floated by on the dance floor, arms hooked around each other, gazing into one another’s eyes. She and Slade should be dancing. A tiny frown furrowed her brow. Where was he? She hadn’t thought he would skip out on her, but now she wasn’t so sure. It was eleven o’clock. He hadn’t called. No sign of him. No message. Where was he? What if he were hurt? Her heart lurched. She could feel the curious looks she was receiving. Maybe having a dinner before the wedding hadn’t been such a wonderful idea after all. She gave an unladylike snort. She’d thought she was being original. Instead, she had to sit here for two hours, under a microscope, while everyone wondered if she was being jilted at the altar—or, in this case, the reception. The food had been served late—and cold. The caterer had taken the food to the wrong church. Jenna gave a warped laugh. If it wasn’t so pitiful, it would be funny. She knew better than to ask what else could go wrong. She’d just sit back and wait. She’d find out soon enough. Still no sign of Slade. Thatcher and Amy were in a corner 153

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whispering furiously. Jenna gave them a mock salute, wondering if they realized their furtive glances her way were a sure clue they were discussing her. Or, from the looks of their challenging stances, arguing about her. Amy grabbed Thatch’s arm, but he shook it off, making his way to the table. “Jenna, would you care to dance?” He smiled warmly, but Jenna could see the pity shining in his eyes. Dancing was the last thing she felt like doing. But why should she sit here looking miserable and feeling miserable? She might as well be out on the dance floor. If she was being stood up, might as well go out in style. “I’d love to.” The relief that washed over Thatch’s face was so boyish Jenna almost laughed at him. He drew her loosely into his arms and whirled her around the room in a fancy waltz. “He’ll be here, Jenna.” Thatch searched her eyes. “I hope so.” She rested her forehead against his chest and closed her eyes to keep the tears that shimmered just below the surface from spilling over. *

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It was eleven-thirty when Slade and Alex pulled into the parking lot of the reception hall. “I’ll grab Emily,” Alex said. Slade didn’t even pause, just threw open his door and rushed into the building. Heads turned at his entrance. A couple of people smiled in relief. Hope glared at him with outrage, and Amy glanced 154

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around with a panicked look. Where in the blazes was Jenna? Had she given up on him and left? He would just have to find her and drag her back if she had. He intended to marry her tonight. Amy was making furtive motions to someone on the dance floor and back toward him. He frowned. She was acting very odd. He glanced toward the dance floor and his gaze collided with Thatch’s smoky gray one. Thatch’s mouth was formed into a perfect “O,” his eyes dazed with surprise. In his arms, snuggled Jenna, with her head on Thatch’s shoulder. Slade rocked back on his heels and sprinted toward the couple. People hastily moved out of his way. Thatch stopped dancing and dropped his arms from Jenna. She glanced up. “Slade.” Her cry of relief pierced through his angry heart and stirred his guilt. “I’m here.” “You’re late.” She stared at him with accusing eyes. “I tried to call. Uncle Alex’s flight was delayed.” “You called?” “I even had the operator try to get through. Your phone was off the hook.” Jenna threw a glare at Amy and Thatch. “Amy…” Her tone was furious. “She was rude to me when I called Jenna last night to confirm plans for the wedding.” Amy joined them, placing her hands on her hips and 155

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squaring off against Thatch. “Who was rude? You called me a dried-up, old spinster.” “You hung up on me!” Thatch moved around Slade to within an inch of Amy, until their noses were almost touching. “You had the nerve to keep calling back, or I’d never have taken the phone off the hook. I forgot it. Oh, I’m so sorry, Jenna.” Amy’s eyes pooled with tears. “It’s okay. Slade is here now.” Slade pulled Jenna into his arms and waltzed her away. She burrowed into him, and his resentment of her embrace with Thatch when he had walked in melted. She hadn’t been nearly as close to Thatcher as she now was to him. He buried his face in her neck. Thatch had been consoling her. He’d almost overreacted until he’d seen her utter relief at his arrival. He pulled her closer, settling her against his heart. “Gladys Primrose is watching Emily and Chloe will pick her up after the wedding, so we can have our honeymoon,” he whispered, his breath stirring the hair at her temple. He drew back a little. “You look beautiful, Jenna.” “Wait ’til you see me in my wedding dress. I’m a knockout.” She grinned. “Modest, too, aren’t you?” She shrugged. “I really love that dress. I’m so glad they found it at the last minute.” “I can’t wait to see you in it.” He gazed at her, feeling pride and longing welling within him, trying to burst loose. “Guess what?” she whispered. “What?” He leaned his head over so his lips were a mere 156

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breath from hers. “You get to in about fifteen more minutes, which means I need to go change.” She closed the distance between their lips and gave him a kiss so filled with promise Slade felt the world careen on its axis. His lips tasted hers. Orange jelly. And icing. The wedding cake. He’d missed cutting his own wedding cake. He wouldn’t blame her if she refused to marry him. What an insensitive idiot he was. Why hadn’t he left a message for his uncle to meet them at the church and simply come on to the reception? Because he had felt a responsibility to see Alex safely here. And in that responsibility had forgotten his obligation to Jenna. But her eyes were soft as she slipped away to change into her wedding dress. She’d forgiven him. His heart expanded, breaking free a little more of the bands Bridgett had molded around it. *

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Jenna floated down the aisle in yards of white satin and lace. The dress was beaded at the top and the sleeves and scooped out in an oval shape in the back. Lace panels created a pattern down the train, visible only when the back of the gown was spread out, which Amy did an admirable job of keeping up with. Lighted candles filled the midnight shadows and cast a soft, old-world glow on the ceremony. The ambiance was in perfect keeping with the nineteenth-century costumes most of the guests had donned. 157

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Thatch and Slade stood stiffly at each other’s sides as Uncle Alex looked sternly at both men. “Who gives this woman to bed…wed to this man?” Jenna stared at Alex Walker in horror. Bed wed? A hot burn rose up her throat. Bed. Wed. She swallowed. A couple of people snickered softly. Alex looked at them sternly over the rims of his glasses, but didn’t bother to correct his mistake. “I do, Your Honor…I mean, Your Minister…I mean, sir,” Thatch stammered and flushed. The guests laughed and Thatch turned even redder. Alex Walker cleared his throat, his cheeks twitching as he tried to hold back his amusement. When he had composed himself, he continued with the service. Jenna’s hand was placed in Slade’s. He gripped her fingers tightly, his only outward sign of nervousness. Thatch held their hands together for a moment, his throat working convulsively. “Take good care of her, Slade. I truly wish you all the happiness in the world.” He moved to sit in the second pew back. Slade stared after him with a stunned look on his face. Jenna smiled and squeezed his fingers. He squeezed hers back. The rest of the ceremony rushed by in a pleasant blur. Slade turned her to face their beaming guests, and Alex Walker pronounced, “May I present you with Mr. and Mrs. Slade Walker.” Jenna floated down the aisle, suddenly realizing that the 158

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wedding was the least nerve-wracking part of her wedding night. Her heart dropped and she felt suddenly ill. Was it normal to be this nervous on your wedding night? What if she disappointed Slade?

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CHAPTER 11 Slade cradled Jenna in his lap as they ate their breakfast. Finally, she was his wife. Last night seemed like a hectic dream. He drizzled a fluffy biscuit with honey and popped a morsel into Jenna’s mouth. “Hmmm…” She closed her eyes and chewed with obvious relish, running her tongue over her lips to catch every last drop of the sweet concoction. Slade stared at her in fascination. “I thought you said you only ate like that with pizza and lobster?” She grinned smugly. “I lied. Honey, too.” “What else am I going to find out about you that I didn’t know before we were married?” 160

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A closed look washed over Jenna’s features, and she hastily busied herself by brushing some crumbs off the table. Was she hiding something? What? He couldn’t imagine it would be anything too major. Not with Jenna. She was too…honorable. He placed one finger under her chin and tilted her face up to his. A rosy tinge flooded her cheeks. “Is something wrong, Jenna?” Her gaze slid away. “What would be wrong?” “I just wondered if there was something you wanted to tell me.” She was definitely feeling guilty about something. A panicked look flooded her lovely violet eyes and her body tensed. She was coiled as tightly as a wound spring, like she planned to bolt from his lap at any moment. Her voice was high-pitched and wavered when she spoke. “No. Nothing.” He caught her gaze and held it for a moment. It would make him feel better if she would confide in him. Tell him what was bothering her. But he wouldn’t press the issue. This was their honeymoon and he intended to enjoy every minute of it thoroughly. He lowered his lips to hers and tasted of her sweet, giving warmth and the faint tang of honey. Jenna wrapped her arms around his neck and gave a sigh that sounded almost like relief, responding to him with intense passion. He raised his brows in surprise. They had good chemistry—okay, absolute, unqualified, fantastic chemistry— but she shouldn’t be this fiercely passionate from a mere brush 161

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of his lips. Unease passed through him and settled around his heart. What’s she hiding? *

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Jenna responded to Slade with all the pent-up love in her heart. She had been frightened for a moment that somehow he’d found out about the book and her trickery. She pressed closer to him, seeking his warmth to chase away the chill of fear that had iced over her body. She probably should have admitted everything to him. The perfect opportunity had just presented itself, and she’d choked. Then Slade’s hands were running over her skin, sending heat spiraling toward her innermost core and all rational thought fled. She would tell him later. She just didn’t know when. *

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The boxes she’d packed earlier in the week sat in Slade’s bedroom, waiting to be uncrated. Jenna pushed up the sleeves on her peach sweater and deposited Emily in a sitting position in the middle of the oak-planked floor. Luckily her new daughter hadn’t yet mastered the art of going from a sitting to a crawling position. Jenna handed her a plastic key ring, which Emily promptly raised to her mouth. “Getting some more teeth?” Jenna brushed a hand over 162

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Emily’s silken hair. She looked so much like Slade, Jenna’s heart clenched lovingly just looking at her. She lifted the edge of the tape on a box with one nail, tugging it loose with a soft ripping sound. Emily glanced up in fascination. “I know you’d love to get your hands on this tape,” Jenna said conversationally, “but you’d only put it in your mouth and what kind of meal would that be?” “Da?” “Da-da will be home later. He had to go to his office. The wedding put him behind.” Jenna felt her lips pull down. She had expected Slade to take a few days off work after the honeymoon, until they got used to their new routine as a married couple and as a family. Instead, he’d gotten up at five this morning, before the dawn had dared peak over the horizon, and headed in to work. Luckily she’d arranged to have Hope and Amy cover the bookstore for a few days or she wasn’t sure what she would have done with Emily. She assumed Slade had made arrangements for a new nanny. She couldn’t rely on her sisters to run the store forever. They’d be going away to college soon. And the place wasn’t financially solvent enough to hire another worker right now. Jenna made short work of the boxes of clothes, hanging them on the side of the closet Slade had thoughtfully cleared out for her. “These last two boxes are books, Em.” She pushed them into the back corner of the closet. “One is the book that 163

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brought your daddy and me together. No sense in unpacking it right now. I don’t need it anymore.” Jenna felt a warm glow flood through her at the memory of their honeymoon. She’d been worrying needlessly about pleasing Slade. They’d grown closer than ever over the couple of days they’d spent at the Widow’s Walk. Emily cooed and gnawed industriously at the key ring. Jenna bent down and lifted her into her arms, staring into eyes the color of sea foam. Emily reached out a tiny hand and patted Jenna’s cheek. Her heart tightened and swelled with love. She hugged Emily to her and rocked them gently from side to side. “You’re so sweet, Emily. How could your mother give you up?” Jenna didn’t think she could have loved Emily more had she given birth to her. It didn’t take pregnancy to make you a mother. It was the day-to-day care, loving and nurturing that bonded two hearts together. “Da.” Maternal joy bubbled in her laugh. “We’re going to have to work on teaching you a new word. Like Ma-ma.” Emily cocked her head to the side, green eyes shining with freshness. “Da?” Jenna hugged her again, before lifting her new daughter into her arms and heading downstairs. She would start dinner. She also needed to find out when the new nanny would arrive. It wouldn’t be fair to leave her sisters to run the bookstore for too long by themselves. If Slade hadn’t hired a nanny, she would have to look into 164

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finding one. A terrible tension flooded her body at the thought of leaving Emily in the hands of a stranger. It couldn’t be just anyone. The nanny would have to be someone who would love and cherish Emily. *

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Slade felt the last bit of tension roll out of his shoulders when he entered the tiled entryway of his house. Scents of pasta and baby powder mingled in the air, creating a tantalizing aroma of domesticity. Apparently dinner was ready. Emily wasn’t crying. There was no nanny storming out of the house. Not to mention he had the night to look forward to with Jenna in his arms. He laid down his briefcase and jogged into the kitchen. Emily was in her high chair, eating her baby food through a contraption that resembled a bottle. Slade’s brows rose in amazement. Why hadn’t he thought of that? No mess. Much easier. He wanted to slap his forehead with the palm of his hand. Jenna’s back was turned; she was stirring rapidly in a large kettle. Her head was bent over her task. He slipped up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, nuzzling the soft skin of her neck. She jumped. “Don’t do that,” she demanded in a shrill voice. Slade frowned. It wasn’t like her to act so waspish. “What’s wrong?” Rubbing her hands nervously on the thighs of her jeans, 165

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Jenna’s voice broke. “I was going to have dinner ready, but— ” “But?” Her violet eyes were flooded with tears. “I think I ruined it.” “Let me see.” He leaned over her shoulder and noted the congealed lump of tan that was molded together in the pot. “What’s it supposed to be?” “Pasta with clam sauce.” “Oh.” He grasped the handle of the wooden spoon and poked at the lump experimentally, half expecting it to jump up and attack him. “I ruined dinner.” He shrugged. “Maybe we can salvage it.” Jenna shook her head. Tears glistened on her pale, heartshaped face. “What’s wrong? Scared too many cooks might spoil the clam sauce?” She gave a reluctant smile, and Slade turned and pulled her into his arms. Gently he stroked the tears off her cheeks with his knuckles. “You get a pizza for effort.” “I just really wanted our first dinner together in our home to be perfect.” Jenna sniffed. “Pizza is the perfect dinner. You have all your food groups. Bread, vegetable and protein.” Jenna pressed a soft kiss to his lips, extending the invitation of a passion-filled night. Slade wanted to pick her up in his arms and carry her to their bedroom. Forget dinner 166

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and forget pizza. But he could sense Emily’s curious gaze on the back of his neck. A baby put a real damper on your love life. Good thing he was crazy about her. He dropped a kiss on the end of Jenna’s pert nose. “I’ll just go order it before we get sidetracked.” Jenna unwrapped her arms from around his neck. “Good idea.” Slade ordered the pizza. He avoided touching her. They needed to talk about when she would sell the bookstore and he didn’t want to be distracted. Her lips definitely counted as a distraction. He grinned.

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CHAPTER 12 Jenna settled into the deep floral cushions, rubbing her stomach. “I’m stuffed.” Emily was sound asleep. The lights were turned low and they’d enjoyed some pleasant conversation over pizza. Slade slid closer, and rubbed his thumb against the corner of her mouth. “Tomato sauce.” He lifted his thumb to his lips and licked the pasta away. Jenna felt her pulses escalate with sudden excitement. He rubbed his fingers in tiny circles over her shoulder. Jenna leaned into the caress. “I was wondering when you’re going to sell the bookstore?” His extraordinary eyes flamed and shone with 168

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closely checked passion. Sudden realization of his words dawned on Jenna. “Sell the bookstore?” “So you can stay home with Emily.” Jenna was too startled by his assumption to offer any objection. She took a swift breath of complete surprise. “We can just close it, if you’d like. I’m sure the books you have in stock can be donated to the library.” She felt momentary panic. Surely he didn’t really expect her to give up The Tome Home? It had been her parents’ dream—their legacy to their daughters. “I’m not closing The Tome Home.” Slade’s eyes widened in astonishment before narrowing into thin slits. “Of course you are. You’ll stay home and be a mother to Emily.” Jenna gritted her teeth, trying to rein in her rapidly escalating temper. “No. That bookstore means a lot to me. It was my parents’ dream. I will not close it.” “Then you’ll hire someone to run it.” He slashed his hand through the air, as if the matter were settled. “That’s acceptable.” Jenna stared at him, speechless. Who was this man? He didn’t actually think he could order her around, did he? This wasn’t the same gentle lover from the past four nights. “I’ll run the bookstore just as I’ve always done.” She lifted her chin, meeting his irritated gaze straight on. “You’ll just have to hire another nanny.” “That’s ridiculous. What do I need a nanny for? I have a 169

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wife.” His words rang in Jenna’s ears. Her mind burned with the memory of his proposal. She was swept back into that day in her store. She’d accepted his proposal and had wondered if he was a little worried about what kind of mother she’d be to Emily. She had said, “I love Emily. I’ll be the best mother I can to her.” “I know you will, Jenna. Otherwise I wouldn’t have asked you to marry me.” The shock of discovery hit Jenna full force. Biting her lip, she looked away to hide the instant tears that sprang to her eyes. He’d married her to get a nanny for Emily. She should have realized. Not once had he ever claimed to love her. Her anguish almost overcoming her tentative control, she turned back to face him. “You married me to gain a permanent nanny.” His face was set in hard lines. “That’s ridiculous. And don’t think I’ll hire a nanny to alleviate your absurd fears.” “I will not give up the bookstore.” “Then it appears we’re at a stalemate.” “There’s no mating to it. Stale or otherwise. You can sleep in the guest room.” Jenna pushed to her feet and stalked from the room. She clattered up the stairs, and barely refrained from slamming the bedroom door behind her. The only thing that stopped her was the last-minute thought that she might awaken Emily. She flipped the lock on the door with a loud click and sank 170

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to the floor, her back pressed to it, her knees drawn up and hugged to her chest. Tightly held in sobs wracked her body as she rocked back and forth. A hot tear slipped down her cheek. She gulped with difficulty. Biting her lower lip to control the sobs, she tasted the metallic tang of her own blood mixed with salty sorrow. She ached with an inner pain that encompassed every element of her being. He didn’t love her. Didn’t love her. Did not love her. Until now there had been the slightest hope that he might—a fantasy actually. A belief she could make him love her. That he had it in him. She laughed bitterly into the empty room they’d shared just last night. A sudden thought struck her. Who was she to judge? How was what he’d done any different than her marrying him to save her bookstore? “Because I love him or I’d never have gone through with the marriage.” Her hoarse whisper broke the silence and echoed in her heart. *

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As the image focused in his memory, Slade could picture again the raw and primitive grief that had shone out of Jenna’s lovely amethyst eyes. A stab of guilt pierced his chest. He groaned and laid his head in his open palms. A sensation of violent suffering and desolation swept over him. What had he done? He wasn’t able to commit to the word “love,” but he could have told her he cared for her. That he’d 171

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never felt for anyone what she aroused in him. He would have to apologize. He swallowed hard. Apologies were not his talent. He could organize a work force for a multinational hotel chain. Diaper his seven-month-olddaughter with practiced ease. Recite the rules from Find Ms. Right by heart. But he was totally inept at expressing regret for his actions. Gathering his thoughts, he practiced what he would say. “Jenna, it’s not that I don’t love you…” He stopped and raked a hand through his hair, pushing to his feet to pace the room. “No good. Jenna, I didn’t marry you to have a live-in nanny.” He groaned. Not true. Well, not entirely true. “Jenna. I’m so attracted to you…” Probably not a good idea. She would assume he only wanted her body, instead of realizing he wanted the whole package that made up Jenna. Unique and special Jenna. He’d gotten himself into a terrible situation. How did he get out of it? Determined to straighten the havoc, he strode up the stairs, taking them two at a time. Grasping the doorknob, he twisted it to the right. Locked. She’d locked him out of his own bedroom. He stood there, dazed, perplexed and totally shaken. It might be better to let her sleep on it. Surely she’d be willing to listen to reason in the morning. They’d straighten this mess out in the light of day. Then Jenna could slip back into her role as his wife. And into his bed. Well, actually, she was in his bed. It was him who wasn’t. And he could think of nowhere he’d rather be just 172

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now. *

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Jenna strolled down Main Street, passing clapboard cottages, framed in poignant loneliness. Glimpses of sand between the houses was ice-encrusted by a late frost. The streets were quiet as the first rays of sunlight danced on the waves crashing onto the beach. The owner of the Italian Gardens walked his black Labrador, and a young boy wheeled down the street on his new, glistening silver bicycle, delivering papers. Jenna breathed deeply of the fresh air, trying to clear her head. She’d escaped the house before anyone woke, leaving Slade a note that she’d be gone all day and he needed to make other arrangements for Emily. Her throat clogged with a vague sense of guilt. She wasn’t sure if she felt guilty for abandoning Slade to the task of watching Emily or for leaving Emily. It was impossible to distance herself. She was already Emily’s mother where it counted, in her heart. Reaching the familiar, leather-scented interior of The Tome Home, she locked the door behind her to allow herself a few moments of contemplation before the start of the business day. Percy leapt to the counter. Jenna scratched under his chin and was rewarded with a loud rumble. “Have you been good for Hope and Amy, Percy?” “Meow.” He blinked yellow eyes at her, looking innocent. 173

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Jenna laughed in spite of her pain over Slade’s betrayal. “Sure you have, you rat.” Percy looked offended, turned his nose in the air and jumped to the floor. He sat and licked one paw as if trying to rid himself of her insult. “Sorry. I forgot that rodents were your enemy.” Jenna busied herself tracking inventory and catching up with book work until time to open, keeping her thoughts occupied and off Slade Walker. At a quarter past nine, Slade walked into the back room. His compelling green eyes were determined. His strong shoulders were set at a confident angle. He had the rugged look of an unfinished Greek sculpture. Naturally, she was on her hands and knees, rear in air, trying to coax Percy out from under a large oak armoire. “A room with a view.” He regarded her with amusement. Flushing, Jenna rose to her feet and brushed the dust off her hands by whisking them together. “I was trying to get Percy out. He hasn’t eaten today. I’m worried about him.” “Let me try.” Slade bent down into a squat. “Here, kitty kitty. Percy.” He rubbed his thumb and forefinger together. Percy slithered out from under the bureau, his tail held high, the end curled over into a question mark. He wrapped himself around Slade’s legs, in and out. “I’m thinking of renaming him Benedict. What do you think?” Slade laughed. “Suites him to a B.” “Where’s Emily?” 174

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“I sent her to Chloe’s for a few days. I think we need some time to adjust to married life and straighten a few things out. Listen, Jenna—” “Slade, I—” They both started at the same time. Jenna broke off and bit her lower lip, still tender from her abusive gnawing of the night before. “I’m sorry, Jenna.” He took her hands in his, raising them and pressing a kiss to the back of each one. “What I said last night came out all wrong.” “You mean you didn’t marry me to just get a nanny for Emily?” Jenna couldn’t keep the note of accusation out of her voice. “No. It started out that way. But then I got to know you, and came to appreciate all your special qualities.” He looked down at his feet. “New shoes?” “Nope, but I’m suddenly finding them interesting.” Slade glanced up with an endearing boyishness. “I realized I wanted you for my wife. Emily has nothing to do with it. If I only wanted a live-in nanny, I could’ve married anyone. But you’re special, Jenna.” The shadows lifted from her heart, and rainbows of happiness burst through her. She moved closer and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Slade pulled her closer, fitting her body snugly against his. “I missed you in my bed last night, Mrs. Walker.” “I was in your bed.” She batted her eyelashes in an 175

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exaggerated flirt. “I hope you will be tonight, too.” His lips lowered to hers, capturing her bottom one and teasing it. Her knees grew weak, and she clung to Slade to keep from collapsing to the floor. “I’ll even leave the door unlocked.” “Kiss me,” Slade whispered against her palm, before moving it out of the way and claiming her lips in a fiery kiss. Some time later, they broke apart and returned to the front of the store, arm in arm. Jenna was thankful this was the slow season at the store. Any customers would have gone neglected. “Can we compromise on the nanny issue?” Slade asked tentatively. A flicker of apprehension crossed his eyes and Jenna took pity on him. He was nervous, she realized, scared of saying the wrong thing and hurting her. How sweet. “Actually, I had a thought,” she offered. “Let’s hear it.” His expression was eager. “Remember how I told you I’d considered adding on?” There was a trace of laughter in his voice. “I guess I should’ve realized then that you had no intention of selling this place.” She raised her eyes, and their gazes caught and held. “If you loan me the money to build on, I can add a nursery to the original plans. I’ll just bring Emily with me.” “Will that work?” His voice was deep and husky. “I think so. My mother always brought us to the store with her. It will only be a loan, though, because I’ll pay you back. 176

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With interest.” Jenna wanted to be clear on that. His money was the original reason she’d chosen to apply How to Wed a Man of Means to him. But now she loved him. If she took his money and used it for her original purpose without paying him back, it would somehow negate their love. Defile it. She felt a momentary panic as her mind settled on the fact he still hadn’t declared his love for her. Oh, well, some men had trouble expressing their emotions. Surely the tender glow in his eyes meant he cared for her. “No loan. I’ll pay for the renovations.” Her voice was low and determined. “Absolutely not.” “Absolutely yes. I’d have to pay a nanny anyway. This way I know Emily is with someone who loves her.” Jenna’s head swirled with doubts. Should she let him pay for the addition? Would it truly belie their love? *

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Slade breathed a sigh of relief at the solution to their deadlock. He didn’t mind Jenna bringing Emily to the bookstore. It would be good for his daughter and would teach her to love books. She was such a smart child already—she’d love this atmosphere. It was the perfect solution. Now if he could just overcome Jenna’s stubborn objections to his paying for the improvements. “Jenna, we’re married. What’s mine is yours anyway.” She wound a hand in her hair, twisting nervously. “Okay. But I insist when the bookstore starts turning a profit again, you get a share.” 177

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He scratched his chin with one hand. “I don’t need the money. Give it to your sisters for college.” “I insist.” Jenna planted her feet wide and jammed her fists on her hips. Admiration coursed through him for her courage and determination. “Okay. What do you mean when the store starts to turn a profit?” “We’re a little in debt right now.” She avoided his eyes. The feather duster found its way into her hands and she was suddenly engrossed in ridding the store of every last speck of dust. “How much is a little, Jenna?” Why was she so nervous? If the store needed some money to make it soluble, he would pump some funds into it. “We’re about three months behind on our bills.” He pulled the dark green, leather-covered checkbook out of his vest pocket and clicked his pen. “How much do you need?” “Not a single stroke of that pen.” Jenna lifted her chin a notch. “Consider it another loan.” He saw her waver indecisively. Using bold, dark strokes, he filled the check out and signed it, leaving the amount blank. “Just fill in whatever you need.” He tucked the check under the corner of the ledger that lay open on the scarred counter. “I’ve got to get to work.” He pressed a quick kiss on her nose. A faint niggle of uneasiness settled around his midriff as he recalled the way 178

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she’d avoided his questions about the financial status of the store. Was she scared he’d make her close it because she was having a bad year? Not if it meant that much to her. They could work these minor glitches out. It wasn’t as if one of them had betrayed a sacred trust.

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CHAPTER 13 Renovations crept in during the night and took over Jenna’s store. Or so it seemed to her. An architect drew up plans. Jenna approved them. Slade hired a carpenter. Jenna showed him the plans. Now there were plastic tarps spread over the books to protect them from the plaster dust that had filled the air when they’d knocked out the south wall. She needed to move any items of value. The only two she’d chosen were Percy and the trunk. Percy was already cozily curled in a corner of their bedroom in his brand new cloth cat bed. That left the trunk. “Almost ready?” Slade stood in the doorway, his stance displaying the force of his thighs and the slimness of his hips. 180

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“Almost.” Jenna shook out an old quilt she planned to wrap around the trunk to protect it from unnecessary scrapes and bangs. Leisurely he crossed the distance between them, reached out and swung her around to face him. Jenna relaxed into his embrace, her fingers tracing a light pattern on the cool cotton of his shirt. His strong hand took her face and held it gently. His kiss was leisurely, thoughtful, like the whisper of butterfly wings. “What’s in the trunk?” His lips brushed against hers as he spoke, before leaving them to nibble at her earlobe. Jenna pushed him away with a playful nudge. “Just help me wrap it.” She shook out the blanket, intent on covering the trunk before he could read the inscription on the lid. She hadn’t worked up the courage to admit to him she’d used a book to capture him. It wouldn’t do to have him asking too many questions. Slade moved like lightening, bending over to investigate the timeworn trunk. “Those Who Read These Tomes Will Find the Miracle of Love.” Kelly-green eyes raised and clashed with hers. What was he thinking? His expression was a total blank, devoid of emotion. A flash of humor crossed his face the split second before a smile tipped the corners of his mouth. “What’s in the trunk, Jenna?” A flicker of anxiety coursed through her. Slade would probably be angry when he realized she’d used one of the books from the trunk to instigate his marrying her. She tried to 181

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relax. The book was at home packed in some boxes—not in the trunk. There was no way he would know. She had plenty of time to tell him in her own way. She would tell him. She just needed to think of the best way to approach the subject. “Books.” Restlessly, her hands caressed the edge of the quilt. Slade flipped up the rusty latch and lifted the lid with a tarnished squeak of un-oiled hinges. The familiar smell of dusty paper and leather filled the room. Warmth coursed through Jenna. The feeling she always got when looking at the books. That warmth was her true legacy from Aunt Madge, she suspected. Slade reached in and withdrew a faded blue cover. The words had long been rubbed off and the title was indiscernible. Flipping through the brittle pages, he located a title page. “Love Potions and Aphrodisiacs.” His left eyebrow rose a fraction. “This might come in handy.” Her laugh rippled through the air. He balanced the book in one hand for a moment, head tilted to the side as he considered it. Then he placed it back in its dusky closet. “My Aunt Madge left me those.” Jenna took the opportunity as he moved away to drape the blanket over the trunk. “How old are they?” “Old. I have no idea. There are no publication dates in a lot of them or they’re long worn off. I’d say at least a hundred years, maybe more.” “Unusual inheritance.” He winked when he caught her 182

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gaze. “She knew what I loved.” Jenna wrapped duct tape around the ends of the blanket, securing it. His smile stilled and grew serious. “What do you love, Jenna?” A hint of anxiety swept through her. It gnawed away at her confidence. Not once had he said he loved her. Or even said that he cared for her, for that matter. If she admitted her love, would he laugh? Not reciprocate the declaration? Fear knotted inside of her. “I’d love to finish this job and get home.” His curt bark of laughter lacked humor. “Yes, it’s been a long day.” His eyes were suddenly guarded. A vague sense of dissatisfaction swelled in her heart. She would give up every book in that trunk to hear the words and know he loved her. Slade leaned over and gripped either side of the trunk, preparing to lift it. “Leave it,” Jenna blurted. “It’s really heavy. I have some people coming to move it in the morning.” He spread his hands and shrugged before striking a body builder’s pose. “I could handle it.” Jenna laughed and poked at a firm muscle. “I’ve no doubt you could, but it’s already taken care of.” “Yes, boss.” Jenna turned from him, hiding her face with the sweep of her hair. Cool relief coursed through her that he hadn’t probed further about the books. She let out a breath she hadn’t 183

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realized she was holding. What would he think when he found out about How to Wed a Man of Means? *

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Slade’s heart sang with delight. The feel of Jenna softly cradled in his arms made him feel blissfully happy and alive. She nuzzled his neck and a shudder passed through him. He had hoped she would declare her love for him earlier. Slade planted tiny kisses down her throat. He had hinted and fished for that declaration. But Jenna had not been ready to give it. And he knew he had no right to push, since he was not prepared to state his love in return. His sister would bring Emily home tomorrow. He didn’t feel that he and Jenna had resolved things between them to his complete satisfaction, but he missed Emily, and he knew Jenna did too. They would work the details out. Laying his head on top of hers, he gave her a gentle squeeze. Tenderness burst through him, clogging his throat and bringing forth the sudden realization he couldn’t prevent himself from loving Jenna. In fact, he had loved her for a very long time. He just hadn’t been able to admit it until now. It was amazing that he could trust someone again after the way Bridgett had trampled on his heart. But the soul was a resilient entity. It sprang back. Jenna had soothed the aches and hurts that had scarred his soul, and she’d brought him back to life. “I love you, Jenna Walker.” His whispered words stirred the baby hairs on her forehead. Jenna sighed softly in her sleep and moved closer to his 184

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warmth. Tomorrow he would clean out their bedroom closet. It was time for Jenna’s belongings to be unpacked totally. He’d make it look like she was a permanent resident here instead of a temporary visitor. Slade smiled. He would surprise her by having her boxes unpacked by the time she got home from work. *

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The clanging resonance of hammers pounded through Jenna’s head. She reached down and grabbed one of Emily’s feet, preventing her from getting into a pile of sawdust. “Just because you’re crawling doesn’t give you a license for trouble.” Jenna dropped a kiss on the smooth forehead. She’d agreed to bring Emily with her so Slade could catch up on some work he insisted needed to be completed but was vague about. The renovations were just beginning, so she wouldn’t have a nursery. But, due to all the dust and noise and workers milling about, they weren’t open for business anyway. She could focus more on Emily. She just felt like she should be here every day to keep abreast of how the renovations were progressing and working out any last minute details. Shifting Emily to her right hip, she toured the store, making sure the addition was meeting with her expectations. The quality of work was excellent. Sturdy frames, riveted with screws, arched over what would be the connecting soda shop, complete with an antique soda fountain and cappuccino machine. An office and nursery would be set along the back 185

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wall, with large windows to take advantage of the unobstructed view of the ocean. Jenna sneezed as the powdery dust of the toppled wall reached her nostrils. She wouldn’t stay long. She just wanted to see what type of progress the builder was making and then she would take Emily home for her afternoon nap. Emily’s crying seemed to have improved over the last few weeks, her sunny moments coming more and more frequently and her crying jags coming more and more seldom. But if she missed a nap…watch out. She smiled a secret smile. Besides, Emily’s nap would allow her and Slade some time alone together. Her heart skipped a beat, remembering their shared passion of the night before. She was fairly certain he loved her or he wouldn’t be able to spend every night with her, giving every atom of his soul. She could hardly wait to get home. *

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The heavy book fell to the polished oak floor with a sharp clap. This cover was faded red and the title was legible. He stared unseeingly at the name of the book. How to Wed a Man of Means. It was one of the books from the trunk Jenna had shown him. There was no doubt about that. But why wasn’t it with the other books? Why did Jenna have it among her personal belongings? Slade had a sinking feeling that he knew. Lifting one hand, he flipped the book open. It fell smoothly out, creased in the middle from frequent readings. 186

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Rule number twelve: If he has not yet asked for your hand and you want to hasten his proposal, take an excursion for a few days. Hot rage almost choked him. Anger burned in his gut. She’d played him for a fool. Followed a few suggestions in a book and got a millionaire. She hadn’t wanted him. He raked a hand roughly through his hair. She didn’t love him. She’d wanted his money. He recalled her guilty flush when she’d admitted that her bookstore was having financial difficulty. And although she’d given some protests, she had taken his check to help cover bills. She’d also let him pay for the renovations she’d so desperately desired. She’d wanted his money. Just like Bridgett. Just like every other woman he’d ever met. He’d thought Jenna was different. Natural. Warm and loving. His heart grew cold, hardening with an icy, protective shell. Her business had been about to go bankrupt. Her sisters had been unable to go to college. She’d set her sights on him as a last attempt at saving herself and had been awarded the Slade Imbecile Scholarship Fund. He felt a quick spurt of sympathy for the financial circumstances that had led level-headed Jenna to such desperate measure, but quickly stomped it down. She didn’t deserve sympathy. She’d tricked him and played games with his mind. She’d used that book and coerced him into falling in love with her. No. He wasn’t in love with her because the woman he loved didn’t really exist. He gave the book a shove across the room 187

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with the toe of his shoe. It was all a trick. A mirage. He’d been right when he’d decided it was impossible for him to fall in love again. This wasn’t real. Now he had to decide how to proceed. Should he go ahead and let her milk him for money for her store in order to have a live in babysitter? Or did he confront her with what he knew to be the truth and let her take it from there. He glanced at the red digital letters of the clock on the night stand. He had approximately two hours to decide how to proceed before Jenna and Emily would be home.

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CHAPTER 14 The house was eerily silent when Jenna pushed the front door open, a sleeping Emily cradled against her shoulder. She paused inside the door, feeling uncertain. Slade was usually busy with one project or another. She knew he was home because his car was parked in the driveway. A warning voice whispered inside of her head that the silence forewarned disaster. Jenna shrugged it off and headed to the nursery to lay Emily in her crib. Her new daughter’s dark lashes lay like black silky fans against her pale cheeks. Jenna kissed her middle and forefinger and pressed them to Emily’s forehead. She swallowed painfully, love growing within her chest 189

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and forming a lump. Her love for Emily was like coming home. She didn’t just love Slade’s child. Her heart claimed Emily as her own. She wondered where Slade was. Perhaps he’d gone for a walk. Dragging wearily down the hall, she planned to stretch out on the large four-poster bed and take a catnap while Emily was asleep. The sight of Slade sprawled on top of the covers on his back, lean arms crossed behind his head, shattered any notion of rest. Jenna didn’t mind. She rather liked the thought of an afternoon spent snuggling in bed with her husband. She crawled into bed next to him, but he remained still. Was he sleeping? She turned on her side, her eyes caressing his rugged features. No, his eyes were open, staring sightlessly at the ceiling. “Slade, is something wrong?” He rose to his feet with lithe grace, bent over at the waist and retrieved something from the floor. He slung it onto the covers, where it landed with a muted thud. “You tell me.” His lips were thinned into a straight line. Jenna glanced down. Her millionaire book. Where had he found it? “I thought I’d make your move to this house seem more permanent by unpacking your boxes. I didn’t realize they held nasty, little secrets.” Jenna rubbed the bridge of her nose, her head pounding with the regularity of a ticking clock. “I can explain.” “I doubt it.” His eyes were the cold, violent green of the winter ocean. 190

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“Slade, I’ve always cared about you—” He cut off her words with a slashing motion. “Tell me a lie I haven’t heard.” Glaring at her, an underlying expectant gleam in his eyes, he waited. Jenna’s throat dried up as she strangled on tears. She should have told him sooner. How did she explain her actions? He would never believe that she truly did love him now. And worst of all, she’d let him give her money for the store. That was the most incriminating piece of evidence against her. “Don’t bother, Jenna. I wouldn’t believe a word you said at this point in the game.” He turned and stormed from the room. *

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Jenna’s eyes burned from shedding tears and her nose was raw from being blown. She’d made her own bed, and now she had to sleep in Slade’s alone. She couldn’t afford to lie around and wallow next to the book any longer, though. Emily would be up any time and Jenna needed to start dinner. Life goes on. Dragging herself into the bathroom, she splashed cold water on her face and used some foundation to cover the red blotches left from her crying jag. It would work out. She would make it work. She would just have to make Slade realize that she truly did love him. Was there a chapter about that in the book? That book ought to be burned. Its advice had caused most of her trouble. Never 191

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tell him you love him first. If she had told him, he wouldn’t doubt her now. Feeling a spurt of self-righteous indignation, she jammed on her shoes and grabbed the baby monitor before heading downstairs. What right did he have to be so angry? He’d married her to have an instant Mommy for Emily. There could be no doubt of that. Despite his claims to the contrary, he hadn’t exactly declared his undying love for her either. If he loved her, he wouldn’t be so quick to think the worst. What was so wrong about a marriage of convenience? Only convenience wasn’t her motivation—had ceased to be her motivation long ago. She loved Slade. She loved Emily. To be away from them would be like ripping out most of her heart and throwing it out to sea. Fear that he might send her away lodged in her throat and she had to clear it several times to keep from choking. Banging pots and pans, she started a simple dinner of clam chowder and cornbread. There was no sign of Slade and she wondered if he would even be home for dinner. Her heart ached for the lost closeness of having him come up behind her and put his arms around her waist—his lips pressing against her neck. A soft mewl of loneliness vibrated out of the baby monitor. Jenna rested the large wooden spoon on the side of the copper kettle; she’d go get Emily. She needed to compose herself. None of this was that precious child’s fault. And children could sense turmoil. “Hey, punkin.” Slade’s deep tones followed Emily’s coo 192

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and tightened the bands of pain around Jenna’s heart. Misery, like a steel weight, settled on her shoulders. Jenna picked the spoon up again and stirred the already thoroughly mixed soup. If she kept stirring, maybe she could keep herself from thinking too much about the utter mistrust that had been etched on Slade’s beloved face; carved there by her careless actions, and the fact she wasn’t self-confident enough in his feelings for her to admit the truth to him. “How’s Daddy’s precious?” Rustling. A sharp clatter. More rustling. “Da-da-da-da-da-da.” “I love you too, sweetie.” He had no trouble telling Emily he loved her. If he cared about Jenna at all, he would have told her. She stirred the chowder in ever tightening circles, and shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “Daddy’s got us into a fine mess again, sugar.” Emily giggled as if it was the funniest thing Slade had ever said. The wooden spoon scraped gently against the bottom of the pot. “I just don’t know how to get us out of it.” Jenna dropped the spoon, barely noticing as the handle slid down into the liquid. She reached over to the monitor and shut it off with a flick of her wrist. She couldn’t bear to hear anymore. It was bad enough he was trying to figure out a way to extricate himself from this marriage, but did he have to talk to Emily about it? Didn’t he 193

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at least realize how much Jenna loved his daughter? Tears burned for release, but Jenna held them back with gritty determination. No more tears for Slade Walker. Ever. *

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Slade pulled loose the self-stick fasteners on Emily’s diaper, continuing his one-sided conversation, to which Emily added “Da” from time to time. “How could I fall in love with such an obvious trick? She really pulled the wool over my eyes, Emily. The trouble is, I think I still love her. Even though I know she only wants my money. Is that crazy or what?” Emily flailed her arms and kicked her legs, making the positioning of the new diaper nearly impossible. The scent of fish and creamy sauce drifted through the house. Slade’s stomach grumbled. Just because he was angry with Jenna didn’t mean he couldn’t eat her cooking. He lifted Emily to his shoulder and headed down the stairs. Besides, Emily needed to eat. He couldn’t let his daughter starve, could he? Loose tendrils of hair had escaped from Jenna’s simple ponytail to caress her neck. Her face was pale, but proud. Her hand shook as she stirred. He hesitated in the doorway, his head swirling with doubts. Her lavender eyes were bruised with pain. If she didn’t love him, why would she agonize over their fight? The Jenna he’d thought he loved wasn’t the type of person who’d marry a man 194

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for his money. But maybe that Jenna didn’t exist and never had. His heart cried no. “Dinner will be ready in a bickering…I mean a bit.” Her cheeks flushed at the slip of her tongue. So she was flustered over their argument. Interesting. Crossing the room, he hooked a foot around Emily’s high chair, edged it closer to the table and deposited his daughter in it. “Don’t forget to buckle her in,” Jenna said absently, bent over the stove, stirring the chowder. “Yes, Mother.” A challenge crept into his voice. If she didn’t care about him, she could at least care about Em. “You sound almost as if you care about Emily’s well-being.” He was goading her. It was intentional. Her shoulders thrust back and her eyes blazed purple fire. “I love Emily. Like she was my own daughter.” She tilted her head back and glowered into his eyes. “And why should I believe anything you say?” He knew he was being nasty, but he couldn’t help it. It was a valid point. Besides he was hurting and it was the only way he could release the pain at the moment. “Believe what you want.” Her voice was scratchy with irritation. She stirred the soup with jerky movements. “I don’t have to prove myself to you. Only to Emily.” Slade studied her straight, proud back. He almost believed her. Almost. It was inconceivable that anyone could not love Emily. But Bridgett hadn’t. Bridgett hadn’t wanted anything to do with a child. What made Jenna different? 195

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He had thought she was, but now he was wondering if all women were cut from the same page of a certain book. Did they all just want his money? They ate dinner in silence. The heated room held a definite chill that had nothing to do with the temperature. Jenna tore off a tiny piece of cornbread and placed it on the tip of Emily’s tongue. The cornbread was an unexpected taste and texture for Emily. She screwed up her tiny face and squawked for more. Jenna patiently fed her tiny pieces, neglecting her own dinner. Slade leaned into the wood slats on the back of the chair and observed Jenna with his daughter. She was patient and loving toward Emily, overlooking her own hunger and comfort to keep his daughter pleased. Since Jenna had moved in, Emily’s disposition had turned around, like sunshine edging away midnight shadows. Since moving in, Jenna gave her undivided attention and tolerance, meeting Emily’s every need almost before Emily expressed any discomfort. Would a woman go to all that trouble if she didn’t love a child? He doubted it. Especially a selfish woman. A woman only out for what she could get. So she loved his daughter. That was very noble. Cracked the shell around his heart, but didn’t totally free it. Where did this leave him? *

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Jenna threw the covers back from the cold bed just as the sun sifted its first rays through the east-facing window. She’d 196

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slept alone. Or rather, laid in bed worrying about the rapid deterioration of her marriage. Her stomach twisted painfully in despair as it had throughout the night. If she thought a declaration of love would bring their relationship back to where it had been, she would throw herself down the stairs and scream, “I love you” at the top of her lungs. Impractical. First, he probably wouldn’t believe her. Second, she would wake Emily and then, before they could kiss and make up, their daughter would be crying for breakfast. After showering quickly, she pulled a red button-down dress over her tousled, wet hair. The wind warbled under the clapboard siding on the house. Jenna glanced out the window, noticing the fierce pounding of the waves. Summer storm? She quickened her pace. She would have to get to the store before the rain broke. Should she take Emily with her? Glancing out the large window at the landing as she descended the stairs, Jenna noticed some of the trees bending in the gusts. It might be better if she left Emily with Slade. He hadn’t mentioned plans to go into his office today. After the building and renovations were completed, Jenna would be ready to take Emily to work with her full-time and their life could settle back to normal. Whatever normal was. Her mouth pulled down at the corners. That was if Slade still wanted her to be a part of his life. Grabbing a bright yellow raincoat and galoshes, she hurried to the front door. The wind almost tore the door off its hinges as gusts 197

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rushed into the foyer and lifted her skirt above her ankles. Tucking her head into the wind and tugging the door shut with all her strength, she hurried toward the store. She would worry about Slade later. *

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The shriek of an approaching storm woke Slade from the exhausted sleep he’d finally tumbled into sometime in the early morning. He stretched his arms over his head. The guest bed was not as comfortable as his own. And he missed Jenna’s warm length curled behind him spoon fashion. He turned onto his side and pillowed his head on his arm. Pellets of hard, driving rain struck the window. The day was gray and overcast. Every muscle in his body clenched with the realization he and Jenna would be stuck together in this house today. The cold silence of dinner had extended through the evening, until Jenna had finally stomped from the room, firmly shutting the bedroom door behind her. There was a storm system moving through. He’d read about it in the newspaper yesterday — fierce winds and damaging waves had been forecast. His house was high enough from the beach that it should be safe. He frowned. Jenna’s store was closer to the beach and open to the elements because of the renovations. He hoped it wouldn’t sustain damage. They would just have to hole up until the storm passed. He grinned, despite his best intentions, images of the two of them curled up in front of a cozy fire intruded into his thoughts. He 198

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didn’t want to imagine such a homey scene. He threw an arm over his eyes and groaned. Emily’s insistent cries intruded into his fantasy, and he swung his legs over the side of the bed, his toes curling on the cool, bare floor. Strange. Jenna usually grabbed Emily most mornings before she could begin to work up a protest. She was probably still angry at him and figured he could get up with Em. She must be furious to go to these lengths, doting on Emily the way she did. A niggle of unease prickled the hairs on his arms. He’d better go see what was wrong. *

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Not one worker was at the bookstore. Not one. Jenna rubbed her hands over her chilled arms. The plastic wall separating the original store from the elements was little protection against the driving rain and tearing wind. She hadn’t seen such a fierce storm since… “No.” The words slipped out between her suddenly numb lips. Her teeth began to chatter, more from fright than from the cold dampness seeping into the bottom of her soles. She glanced back to the glass door at the front of the store. Should she try to make it home? What was a little rain? A little water compared to a big flood? Her hairdo would be ruined, her mind flitted around insanely. Who cared? Her dress would get soaked. Better than her lungs taking a drenching. There was no way she could make it back to the house before this storm hit full force, she 199

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realized as sudden silence descended on the store. The rain ceased. The wind died and the very air seemed to cry out that this was a small break before the storms resumed. Heaviness hung in the air, waiting to unleash itself on the little town of Miracles Landing. She looked around in a panic. If another storm hit, it could quite possibly rip the plastic tarp from the framework of the exposed outer walls, sending waves crashing into her store and her. Pure, dark terror swept through her. Her teeth chattered painfully. Her gaze darted wildly around the room, looking for some form of escape. She cursed her own stupidity for coming out in this weather. She should have realized. But she had been rather distracted by her jumbled emotions. Her determination was like a rock inside of her. She wouldn’t die here. Not without telling Slade how much she loved him. *

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Slade padded through the house with Emily tucked against his shoulder. It wasn’t like Jenna to sleep this late. That sense of unease and vague disquiet wouldn’t leave him alone. He put Emily in her playpen and ascended the stairs at a run. Flinging open the bedroom door, he felt his heart sink at the sight of the neatly made bed and the open bathroom door. Empty. “Jenna?” He raced back out into the hall, checking all the spare bedrooms. 200

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Empty. Barren. No sign of Jenna anywhere. He clattered back down the stairs at a dead run. Living room—empty. Dining room—empty. Kitchen—empty. “Jenna.” This time her name came out as a soft groan of horror. She wasn’t here. That left only one place. Because, while he might believe she would leave him, after seeing her with Emily yesterday, he knew she could never leave her heart, and he understood clearly now that Emily was a part of Jenna’s heart. The store. Dear God, she’s at the bookstore. The image of flimsy, plastic-covered walls surged into his mind. If the waves grew as high as the meteorologists were predicting…if the wind grew destructive…if the winds increased… He stood motionless in the center of the kitchen. He loved her. Loved her and had never told her. What if she…No! He wouldn’t even think it. He had to get to her. Tell her how he felt. Moving back into the living room, he stared unseeingly at Emily for a moment—torn. He needed to get to Jenna. Yet he couldn’t risk Emily’s safety by taking her with him. His heart felt as though it was being pulled in two different directions. Jenna. Her name seemed to echo on the wind as the storm ebbed, bringing sudden silence and peace. Slade felt relieved before realizing it was a calm before disaster. The worst was yet to come. The worst was yet to come and the woman he loved was in 201

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an exposed building, in grave danger. And he couldn’t get to her.

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CHAPTER 15 Jenna drew her legs up and rested her forehead on her knees. The lingering spice of cedar rose around her, settling into her pores. She hugged her knees tighter, her eyes trying desperately to focus in that dim, enclosed space. The sounds of the storm had returned. This time louder, although muffled by her wooden cocoon. The beat of the waves pounded through her pulse. “Jenna.” The sound was very faint. Jenna strained to listen, certain she’d imagined the voice. It was the wind. It was so noisy, it sounded like a freight train rumbling through her store. The wind could sound like many things. And the mind could play 203

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tricks. “Jenna.” Closer now. A slight tinge of panic to the voice. “Jenna!” Slade? It sounded like Slade. Now she knew she was going crazy. Why would he bother to come after her? He didn’t care about her. Of course, he might lose a nanny if she died. Jenna cracked open the paneled door a bit and saw him standing uncertainly in the storeroom, his eyes a frantic, glowing green. “In here.” He marched to the armoire and stared down at her, his hands on his lean hips. An angry frown lowered his brows. She had been frightened out of all sense, and he was the most gorgeous sight she’d ever seen. “Care to join me?” She pushed the door wider and scooted back to allow him room to wedge himself into the tiny area. “In that thing?” He looked doubtful. “It’s the safest spot I could find in the store.” “It does look pretty solid and sturdy.” Slade stepped over the door frame and squashed himself into the tight space. He closed the door, enclosing them in a dark coffer. Jenna had her back to the side panel. His back was to the opposite one. Their knees touched intimately. “You came for me.” Jenna’s voice broke. “I didn’t have a choice.” His voice was soft, gentle. Jenna wished she could see his face. Look into his eyes. It would help her judge what he was feeling. “Where’s Emily?” 204

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“I left her with our next door neighbor, Mrs. Primrose. Seems Gladys Primrose is lonely since dear old Rupert passed on and is thrilled for the company. Especially during a frightening storm like this, which she hasn’t seen the likes of since 1958.” Jenna’s laugh was amplified in the confined space of the cabinet. “I take it you had a hard time getting away from her?” “No, I wouldn’t say hard. Impossible maybe.” His hand slid up her leg and settled on her knee. Jenna’s pulse skidded into overdrive. Her skin heated where he touched it. “Jenna.” His voice was husky with emotion. “When I discovered you were gone, I thought I’d go crazy.” “Why, Slade? I didn’t think you’d even care. Were you scared I’d taken Emily with me?” “I knew you hadn’t taken Emily. I was terrified I might lose you.” “Oh, you mean because then you’d have to hire a nanny?” His hand pulled back and Jenna almost cried out, so intense was her desolation at losing that touch. His arms brushed against her as he shifted his weight, nudged her knees to the side, and brought their faces together. She felt his warm breath against her chin, smelled his cologne, and tasted the moist sweetness of his breath on her lips. His hand clasped her chin as his thumb brushed tiny circles across her lower lip. “I already hired a nanny.” His words settled in her heart, like a heavy stone being 205

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dropped into cold, still waters. The ripples of pain radiated through her body. He’d hired a nanny. Their marriage was over. No more Slade. No Emily. She bit her lip to keep from crying out. “It’s in the Not-A-Nanny Clause.” Blood coursed through her veins like the pounding surf. She waited for her pulse to quiet before speaking. “What clause?” “I drew up a clause for our marriage last night when I couldn’t sleep.” His lips against her temple stirred her hair. There was no escaping his heady influence over her in the confined interior of the bureau. She tried hard to focus on his words. “Would you like to hear what the clause says?” “Says?” Her brain was fogging over from being so close to his warmth. Slade pulled back a little. “Oh, no. You aren’t zoning out on me. You need to hear this.” Jenna struggled to focus on his words, but it was difficult with his firm body pressed against hers. “It says, and I quote, ‘Jenna McBay Walker is not a nanny. She was not married to provide a nanny for my daughter, and she is not expected to be one. Her job is quite simply to be loved. By Emily Walker, her stepdaughter…’” He trailed off. The silence in the dark interior was interrupted by the sound of shrieking wind and striking rain. “‘And by Slade Walker, her husband.’” Joy bubbled through her, clogging her throat. “You love 206

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me?” Slade trailed kisses down her neck. “Enough to brave this storm for you.” “That much?” Jenna buried her fingers in his hair. “More.” Raining kisses over his face and jaw, Jenna felt satisfaction burst through her. “Oh, Slade, I love you too.” “Since when?” He pulled back to demand. “Since I was about sixteen, but that love has matured recently and grown stronger.” He stilled for a moment. “I’ve loved you since you slammed the door in my face on our first date. Maybe even before that.” “We’ve wasted so much time playing foolish games.” “Let’s not waste a minute more, my love.” Jenna hugged him. “I think the storm’s over. Hear the quiet?” Slade grew still as if listening and then pressed a kiss on her nose. “No. I definitely still hear a storm. I think we’d better stay here a while. Just to be on the safe side.” “That’s fine, except my legs are numb.” Slade threw open the door and pulled them to their feet. “Okay, but if it gets any colder I’m going to start burning books to stay warm. Shame you moved that trunk to the Widow’s Walk during renovations. I’d love nothing more than to burn those books one by one—” Jenna landed a well-aimed punch on his bicep. “Ouch!” 207

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“Have some respect for that trunk. It’s what brought us together.” Slade pulled her into his arms and dropped a kiss on the end of her nose. “We brought us together. Not a trunk and not books or any ridiculous advice found in them.” Jenna smiled softly. “I like that. Our hearts brought us together. So what do we do with the book?” “Throw it away,” Slade growled. “That would be a shame, since it is at least a hundred years old.” “You’re right. I’d rather burn that particular book, so it can never darken anyone’s love life again.” “What if we put it back in the trunk along with Find Ms. Right?” “A new book for the next generation of lovers?” He scratched his chin. “I like the idea.” “Besides the books do work,” Jenna insisted, enjoying their gentle teasing. “Work? That book almost destroyed us.” A heavy frown marked his forehead. “I married a man of means, didn’t I?” “Well, I did find Ms. Right.” “I also married the man of my dreams.” Jenna stood on tiptoe and kissed her husband. Thankfulness welled in her for the gift of this wonderful man’s love. “I also married Ms. Right.” Jenna giggled. “I love you, Slade.” “I love you.” 208

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As they shared a deep kiss, Jenna realized her true legacy—that love can’t be found in an old trunk or a book, but can only be discovered in the heart.

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LORI SOARD

Lori Soard has a Ph.D. in Journalism and Creative Writing but she’s hardly the stuffy, professor type. Her romantic comedies have received rave reviews from Romantic Times Magazine. She co-founded World Romance Writers. Her undergraduate degree was in education and she home schools her daughters and teaches at a cottage school one day a week. In her spare time, Lori enjoys singing and taking her two dogs for walks. The entire family loves basketball, going to the movies, and traveling. She loves to hear from her readers. You can email her through her website at lorisoard.com or at PO Box 97, Memphis, IN 47143.

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Don’t miss The Elixir, by Lori Soard, available from Amber Quill Press, LLC!

The dark parking garage with the dead body of his friend and mentor only begins Jake Walker’s problems. Soon, he is the prime suspect in Benjamin Monroe’s murder and worried that his best friend, Ben’s daughter, will believe the worst.

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