Valentine's Child

by Nancy Bush

  Jukebox music blared — something in the alternative-rock line that was faintly memorable but even less melodic. To her delight, Bernie was there, along with Ryan.

  “Hi!” they both called in unison.

  “Hey, there,” Sherry greeted them. “A root beer,” she ordered before either of them could ask. “I need a shot of courage.”

  “You look better,” Bernie decreed, his eye skimming over her discerningly.

  “I’m at the end of a long, hard journey.”

  “Going to see J.J.?” Ryan guessed.

  “Jake,” Sherry corrected. “But no, I’m checking in with Madame Beckett.”

  Bernie’s face twisted into a look of comical horror. “Her?”

  The Dragon Lady herself. “Yep.”

  “You take care of yourself,” Bernie warned. “She’s a mean woman with a tongue that could cut glass.”

  “Dad!” Ryan laughed.

  “She’s lucky her son’s like his father. Oh, Rex had his faults.” Bernie waved off any protests either she or Ryan might make with both hands. “He liked a good time too much, maybe. But he wasn’t mean. He liked people and he loved his children. He had a nice daughter, too, but she had to leave for good because that wife of his was full of acid, heel to scalp. Picked out Jay’s wife before he was even born and did everything she could think of to get rid of anyone else!” He shook his finger at Sherry’s nose. “Don’t think I don’t know. I always knew! She hurt you, and she’ll keep right on doing it.”

  “She can’t hurt me anymore,” Sherry said quietly, touched by Bernie’s concern.

  “No?” He didn’t believe her.

  “No,” she assured him.

  He frowned and blinked at her, wanting to concur but unable to. She loved him for that. Holding out her arms, she gave both of them big hugs before she reluctantly eased away.

  “You come back here if she beats you down. You come back to Bernie’s! We’re your family, you know!”

  “I know.” Sherry struggled to smile, then slipped out the door to her dance with destiny.

  Beckett Manor loomed large and bleak even with the watery sun trying to fight its way free of clinging gray clouds. Sherry climbed from her car and marched to the intercom, pressing the buzzer with a slightly unsteady finger.

  “Anybody there?” she demanded, sure Patrice was sitting in her web, just waiting.

  For an answer the gate buzzed open. No verbal response, just an eerie, silent admittance that made Sherry’s throat go dry in spite of her bravado.

  But that was all it was, she could admit now that she was away from Bernie and Ryan’s support. Bravado. No substance. A blustering façade that lacked any real conviction. Patrice had wronged her, but somehow Sherry knew she would be the villain. Patrice would twist and turn and blame and nearly convince Sherry that it was all her fault anyway.

  But, so what? There was no other option, no other path to pursue.

  Wind slapped at her face and slid cold fingers beneath the collar of her black jacket. Her boots slipped a bit on the damp stone walkway. Infuriated by her whipping hair, she yanked it back into a ponytail and held it with one hand. Inelegant, perhaps, but too bad.

  With her free hand she rapped on the door. Would Patrice magically open it, as well?

  But it was Jake who twisted the handle and split the well-oiled oak door open. The chandelier cast sparkling shadows on the floor and across his face. In low-slung jeans, a torn denim shirt and toting a hammer, his hair tousled, a smudge of dirt near his chin, he looked strong and vulnerable at the same time. All the vinegar went out of Sherry and she stood in shock, consumed by the desire to throw herself into his arms and beg him to believe in her.

  “Jake,” she said through numb lips… .

  His mouth twisted. “No more J.J.?” He sounded faintly sad.

  “I thought you didn’t like it anymore.”

  He shook his head, his eyes hooded so he she couldn’t read his expression.

  “I — I talked to Mandy,” she said as he closed the door behind her, creating an unintended intimacy that crawled across her skin like a premonition. “I think she really enjoyed being here with you.”

  “She’s a great kid.”

  Sherry’s eyes searched his face, her heart skipping a beat. “You think so? I mean, I do. I can’t believe I missed all that time with her, and now I just want to hold her and tell her how sorry I am.

  The way his eyes stared into her soul silenced her tongue. She wanted to cry. He wouldn’t understand. He would be the last person on earth to understand. “I just love her so much,” Sherry finished awkwardly.

  “Were you looking for my mother?” he asked, frowning at the floor, as if continuing to look at her was too much effort.

  “Uh, yes …” The urge to throw the money in Patrice’s face had disappeared. Now she just felt tired. “I need to — pay her back.”

  “She’s in Seattle. We had words and she decided she needed a little vacation.”

  “Words?” Sherry asked, instinctively knowing it concerned her.

  “Do you want to give me the check? I promise I’ll see that she gets it.”

  Sherry didn’t know what to do. It seemed so anticlimactic, somehow. Reluctantly, she reached into her purse for the envelope with the cashier’s check. “I added interest on. If it’s not enough, I’ll be happy to pay more.”

  A spasm crossed his face. For a moment she thought he was going to refuse the envelope, but then he snapped it from her fingers and boldly ripped it open. He stared at the check for a long moment. “How much money did you borrow?” he asked.

  “Didn’t I tell you? Ten thousand dollars.” She craned her neck to look at the check. “Why? I said I’d pay more if it’s not enough.”

  “My mother had checks written to you for over one hundred thousand dollars.”

  “No. No! I took ten thousand dollars for my mother, and I shouldn’t have, but I — ” Sherry swept in a harsh breath, shaking all over. “She lies!”

  “It’s not a lie. I talked to — ”

  “You — you can’t believe that I took — I took — ” Sherry stumbled over the words, hurrying them out. “I didn’t. I couldn’t! I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”

  “Wait — ”

  “No, no!” She threw up a hand, warding him off.

  “Sherry!”

  Tears blurred her vision. “Take the check!” She gulped, stumbling away. “We’re even!”

  “For God’s sake, I know you didn’t take the money,” Jake hissed through his teeth, grabbing her arm. Sherry pulled at his fingers, wrenching away. “I know,” he said again and slowly his words finally penetrated. She carefully glanced up at him, her eyes full of questions.

  With a groan, he suddenly pulled her close, until she could feel the light beating of his heart beneath her tense fingers. “Then what?”

  “Let me just hold you,” he said, pulling her close, his breath tickling the hairs near her ear.

  Time seemed suspended. Sherry drank in his scent like a sweet elixir, letting it fill her head. She wanted to collapse against him, but she didn’t dare. What did he mean?

  Without a word, he drew back, gazing down at her in a way that made her heart skip a beat. “Come out to the tree house,” he invited roughly.

  Tree house? Sherry let him lead her to the base of the tree where a ladder had been securely lashed to the trunk. Jake climbed up and reached a hand down to her. Glad for her own jeans and boots, Sherry climbed to the newly laid floorboards of the infamous tree house, scene of reluctant memories of her youth.

  “So, that’s what the hammer’s for,” she murmured, smelling the new wood.

  “Mandy wanted to be here. I haven’t climbed up since high school and the place was rotten.”

  “And you decided to save it?” Sherry asked, dozens more pressing questions flying inside her head, unable to voice any of them.

  “I thought it was worth saving.”

  The hammock swayed soft
ly. A new hammock. Not as big as the other. Big enough, though, she thought inconsequentially.

  “You look scared,” Jake said softly.

  “I’m thinking about Patrice.”

  He threw back his head and laughed. “Liar,” he said.

  “I’m thinking about the money,” Sherry clarified. “And that reminds me of Patrice.”

  “The money Patrice sent Elena.”

  Sherry stilled. “What do you know of Elena?”

  “I know she’s your aunt and that she endorsed the original check Patrice sent you for her mother. I know she endorsed at least ten other checks as well, all made out to you and equaling ten thousand dollars each. I know she deposited them in a bank under your name.”

  The ground rushed forward. Sherry’s head buzzed. It suddenly was too heavy to hold up. “Wha-at?” she whispered, as J.J.’s arms suddenly closed around her, supporting her, guiding her to the hammock where they both fell in a tangle of arms and legs that normally would’ve embarrassed Sherry, but right now was very necessary support.

  “She saved it all. Took it from Patrice for you and your baby. Kept right on taking it without a qualm. Proud as a peacock about it, as a matter fact.”

  “You — talked to her?” Sherry’s tongue was too fat for her mouth. Everything circled in slow motion. Telling herself she just needed the support, she buried her face in J.J.’s warm neck.

  “I talked to everybody. Elena, Patrice, Dee …” He let that one sink in but Sherry was too undone to react. “When I figured it all out, I headed straight for Seattle. I ran into Dee, first, and she told me you were going to pay off your debts and she didn’t want me screwing it up.”

  “She said that?”

  “And a lot more, besides,” he added with feeling. “So, I tracked down Elena, then came back and waited. You took your sweet time getting down here. I’ve been hanging around this place for days.”

  “You’ve been waiting for me?” Sherry repeated.

  “Yes.”

  She couldn’t take it all in. “Elena took more money from Patrice?” she asked now, horrified.

  “I was ready to turn her into the authorities for blackmail,” J.J. admitted, “But I decided to confront her first. It was a good thing. Gave me a different perspective. And then when I had it out with my mother, well, a few more things came to light.”

  “Like what?”

  “Patrice is a control freak. She’s always wanted to direct my life, and she wanted you out of it. Somewhere in her warped mind, she thought if she kept on paying you off, you’d look worse. The more money you took, the more evil you would be.”

  “God,” Sherry murmured, shivering.

  “It almost worked,” he said flatly. “I reacted just the way she expected, but then I realized the signature wasn’t yours.”

  “How?”

  “Providence,” he admitted, then pulled a piece of paper from his pocket that had been taped together. Sherry blinked in lack of understanding as she recognized the letter she’d written to J.J. when she’d first arrived in Oceantides. “This is a small town,” he reminded her with a laugh. “The maid thought I might like to read what you had to say. She gave it to me after I got back from meeting Mandy.”

  “Oh,” she breathed, holding him tightly.

  “I love you,” he said softly, his lips warm against her cheekbone. “I’ve always loved you. And I don’t want you to wait anymore.”

  “You don’t?” Her voice quivered.

  For an answer he fit her body snugly against his masculine contours. “Could you stand to live in Oceantides again?”

  So much information. Too much. Too fast! Her senses swam with delight. Wait, she warned herself. Be smart. Think. Don’t rush.

  “If you’re asking me to marry you, the answer is yes,” Sherry replied, disregarding every bit of her own advice. “That is, if you and Caroline have called it quits …”

  “It was quits before it ever started,” he admitted harshly. “And yes, you know I want you to marry me.”

  Before she could respond he swooped in for a kiss. Sherry’s lips parted in surprise and J.J. slipped his tongue inside her mouth.

  The kiss was long, hot, and filled with pent up desire. Sherry’s fingers wound in his hair. Her tongue danced with his and then she couldn’t stop the laughter that bubbled up from inside her.

  “We have a daughter. I know she’s happy with the Craigs, but don’t you think she’ll be happy for us? I mean — ”

  “I know what you mean. Of course, she will. She can visit us whenever she likes, as long as it’s okay with the Craigs. They want what’s best for her.”

  “So do I,” he answered soberly.

  “She brought us together again,” Sherry said.

  They stared at each other for a long moment, savoring the rediscovery, then Jake took it upon himself to remind her of what the tree house had meant to them, his mouth moving down her neck as his fingers undid the buttons to her blouse.

  And that was how Mandy came to have a sister, Angela, born on Christmas Day.

  COMING SOON…

  Everyone knew that Sammy Jo Whalen was looking for a husband. How else would she save her mortgaged-to-the-hilt ranch? But who would marry the sharp-tongue owner of the Triple-R? No man in his right mind, for sure. Sammy Jo might be one of the finest looking women in the county, but she was hard-headed, ornery, and an overall a pain in the ass. Unless she changed her ways, and soon, she was going to lose that ranch and all the blood, sweat and tears she’d put into it.

  Then Cooper Ryan came to town and it looked like the long, tall stranger with the lazy smile had a serious hankering for Sammy Jo’s ranch — and maybe for Sammy Jo herself. Was he foolhardy, or sly as a fox? Maybe he was just what the princess of Coldwater Flats needed, or maybe he was about to flimflam her out of the Triple-R and her heart, too. Either way, sparks were about to fly and the good folk of Coldwater Flats decided to settle right down and enjoy the show.

  Following is an excerpt from the opening pages of SUMMERTIME BLUES, the first book in the SUMMER LOVIN’ series duet.

  Maggie Holt pushed through the cafeteria doors into the hospital corridor and told herself that, in her professional opinion‌—‌and, as a registered dietician, she was a professional‌—‌the food at Briar Park Hospital flat-out sucked. She wasn’t in charge of all hospital meal planning; she had a separate office on the west side of the hospital’s sprawling grounds for individual patient care. But honestly, the institution manager could really use some help. In fact, given the chance, Maggie thought –

  She saw the two men outside the exterior doors, the one in front reaching for the door handle while the second was staring at him steadily, listening to him, and stopped short. The door cracked open and Maggie’s eyes darted around for escape, her heart racing in sudden panic.

  “…sure you won’t join me? I could use a few more hours to extol Briar Park’s virtues. You know what I’m saying.” The man speaking was Dr. Emil Schorr, one of the hospital directors. The man he was speaking to was Tanner Baines. Dr. Tanner Baines. The love of Maggie’s misspent youth, and the last person in the world she wanted to run into.

  Tanner was shaking his head. Said something about having to get going. By this time Schorr was half inside and Maggie didn’t wait for Tanner to change his mind. She pushed through the nearest door and found herself in the private dining room which could be reserved by appointment and luckily found it empty.

  Tanner Baines. God. Maggie had just learned this morning that she would be meeting with his diabetic daughter and had been preparing for their afternoon session ever since. She didn’t know what that meant and had been living in fear that she would run into Tanner again, though she suspected the girl’s mother, Tricia Baines, would be more likely to bring her in. But maybe not. Tanner was a doctor. And here he was.

  Oh, please, Lord, don’t let him come with her to the session.

  Grinding her teeth together, she willed her heart to slow down. It�
�s no big deal, Mags. It’s been years. A bad love affair. Everybody’s got them.

  But her brain kept churning away. Recalling the first time she’d met Tanner Baines‌—‌in his bedroom‌—‌when she was fifteen years old.

  If she let herself, she could still feel the scrape of bark from the gnarled oak beneath Tanner’s window as she shimmied up the tree; the thrill of danger as she hung from the upper limb, her toe searching for the windowsill; the shock of sliding inside to find that Tanner was silently waiting for her. She remembered his surprise at her sudden entrance and could still hear him asking in his drawling way, “And who the hell are you?”

  He’d been naked to the waist, clad only in a pair of beat-up jeans, and it had been some time before Maggie could explain why she’d come. Even then he’d regarded her with narrow-eyed suspicion, certain she’d had some ulterior motive beyond the one she’d stated.

  Good. God.

  Now, carefully, she opened the door to the corridor to see that Schorr and Tanner were both long gone. It amazed and annoyed her how fast she’d turned into a schoolgirl with just one look. This wasn’t like her. It wasn’t like her at all! All that was behind her and now she prided herself on her cool control.

  Pushing through the exterior door with authority, she glanced around the parking area but there was no Tanner.

  A male voice yelled, “Hey, Maggie!” and she jerked as if electrocuted.

  But it was just Greg‌—‌Dr. Greg Collins‌—‌her…what? Lover? Boyfriend? Almost fiance? The one she wasn’t in love with. The one she was sort of trying to avoid.

  “Meet me at Foster’s tonight? Six?”

  “Sure,” she said, though she didn’t really want to. On the other hand, maybe this would be the time that she could break off whatever it was they had going.

  “I’ve got news,” he said, and he gave her a quick kiss before heading back to the hospital.

  So, have I, she thought, dreading the impending break up.

  Two hours later she was staring into the eyes of Tanner’s adolescent daughter, searching for some resemblance between Shelley Baines and her father. But there was little to distinguish her as Tanner’s child. The pale, somewhat sullen girl casting her resentful glances from behind a curtain of long brown hair was nothing like Tanner. Shelley’s resemblance to her mother, Tricia Wellesley Baines, was far more apparent.