“We’ve talked enough business this evening,” said Riley.
Lisa smiled. “I agree.”
She’d had him figured out since day one. He’d been hell-bent on endearing himself to her, making himself indispensable, and truth be told, she didn’t mind that much. She needed the experience he had to offer. But his ruse was so transparent, she’d have to be blindfolded in a dark room not to see it.
His surprise at the sexy transformation was gratifying. More than gratifying. Delicious. She’d caught him off guard. Turned the tables on Mr. Cool. She was sure he’d intended to impress her with the expensive wine and dinner. But he’d been expecting to impress and win over the Lisa with the baggy clothing and bad hair—not this new and improved version.
She smiled to herself. Maybe he’d just have to try a little harder now. Seeing Riley Douglas give his all could prove…rewarding.
Dear Reader,
June, the ideal month for weddings, is the perfect time to celebrate true love. And we are doing it in style here at Silhouette Special Edition as we celebrate the conclusion of several wonderful series. With For the Love of Pete, Sherryl Woods happily marries off the last of her ROSE COTTAGE SISTERS. It’s Jo’s turn this time—and she’d thought she’d gotten Pete Catlett out of her system for good. But at her childhood haven, anything can happen! Next, MONTANA MAVERICKS: GOLD RUSH GROOMS concludes with Cheryl St.John’s Million-Dollar Makeover. We finally learn the identity of the true heir to the Queen of Hearts Mine—and no one is more shocked than the owner herself, the plain-Jane town…dog walker. When she finds herself in need of financial advice, she consults devastatingly handsome Riley Douglas—but she soon finds his influence exceeds the business sphere….
And speaking of conclusions, Judy Duarte finishes off her BAYSIDE BACHELORS miniseries with The Matchmakers’ Daddy, in which a wrongly imprisoned ex-con finds all kinds of second chances with a beautiful single mother and her adorable little girls. Next up in GOING HOME, Christine Flynn’s heartwarming miniseries, is The Sugar House, in which a man who comes home to right a wrong finds himself falling for the woman who’s always seen him as her adversary. Patricia McLinn’s next book in her SOMETHING OLD, SOMETHING NEW…miniseries, Baby Blues and Wedding Bells, tells the story of a man who suddenly learns that his niece is really…his daughter. And in The Secrets Between Them by Nikki Benjamin, a divorced woman who’s falling hard for her gardener learns that he is in reality an investigator hired by her ex-father-in-law to try to prove her an unfit mother.
So enjoy all those beautiful weddings, and be sure to come back next month! Here’s hoping you catch the bouquet….
Gail Chasan
Senior Editor
MILLION-DOLLAR MAKEOVER
CHERYL ST.JOHN
Books by Cheryl St.John
Silhouette Special Edition
Nick All Night #1475
Marry Me…Again #1558
Charlie’s Angels #1630
Million-Dollar Makeover #1688
Harlequin Historicals
Rain Shadow #212
Heaven Can Wait #240
Land of Dreams #265
Saint or Sinner #288
Badlands Bride #327
The Mistaken Widow #429
Joe’s Wife #451
The Doctor’s Wife #481
Sweet Annie #548
The Gunslinger’s Bride #577
Christmas Gold #627
“Colorado Wife”
The Tenderfoot Bride #679
Prairie Wife #739
Silhouette Intimate Moments
A Husband by Any Other Name #756
The Truth About Toby #810
Silhouette Yours Truly
For This Week I Thee Wed
Silhouette Books
Montana Mavericks: Big Sky Brides
“Isabelle”
Montana Mavericks
The Magnificent Seven
CHERYL ST.JOHN
A peacemaker, a romantic, an idealist and a discouraged perfectionist are the words that Cheryl uses to describe herself. The author of both historical and contemporary novels says she’s been told that she is painfully honest.
Cheryl admits to being an avid collector who collects everything from dolls to Depression glass, brass candlesticks, old photographs and—most especially—books. She and her husband love to browse antiques and collectibles shops.
She says that knowing her stories bring hope and pleasure to readers is one of the best parts of being a writer. The other wonderful part is being able to set her own schedule and have time to work around her growing family.
Cheryl loves to hear from readers. You can write her at: P.O. Box 24732, Omaha, NE 68124.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Epilogue
Chapter One
“This news conference is the biggest thing that’s ever happened in Thunder Canyon,” the local news announcer said over the murmur of the crowd behind her.
Lisa Jane Martin glanced up from peeling the cellophane from a frozen entrée to check out the television screen. “Yeah, well, get on with it and maybe we can still see the sports and weather.”
Overwhelmed by sightseers and the influx of tourists, she’d been wishing this whole gold-mine thing would blow over so Thunder Canyon would get back to the quiet norm she appreciated.
At the sound of her voice, her two golden retrievers scrambled to their feet, nails scraping against the aged wooden floor, and vied for the same space in which she stood. Joey, the brown who always looked as though he had a smile on his face, tried to wedge his way between her knees and got caught in her ankle-length skirt. “Chill, Joey.”
Piper, the blonde, noticed the extra attention and squirmed closer, stepping on her foot.
“All right, all right. Sit.”
Both dogs obeyed immediately. She went to a covered bin on the back porch to scoop out two bowls of dog food and placed them on the floor just inside the door.
The sound of crunching nearly obliterated the reporter’s next softly spoken announcement. “The gentleman in the blue suit is the mayor’s assistant. Since we’ve spotted him, it leads us to believe the mayor will be arriving on the scene at any moment.”
Lisa poured herself a glass of milk and glanced at faces as the camera panned the crowd. A few of her pet-owner clients caught her attention. “Are people really taking this seriously? I know I had a fork out.”
On the counter beside the television was a stack of mail, including a couple of registered letters she’d been ignoring, and she picked one up. “I don’t think they send a letter if you’ve won the lottery. Do they? They phone you, probably.”
That would have been a problem, too. She’d been having trouble with her antiquated answering machine for a couple of weeks and knew she’d been missing messages from clients. A new one just wasn’t in the budget.
She glanced at the return address on the envelope and discovered the street number for the courthouse. Last time she’d had to sign for something, it had been a notification of reassessed property taxes and an adjusted fee. The real adjustment had been eating tuna for three months to make ends meet. She tossed the envelope back on the pile of mail.
The house had been a steal, so she couldn’t complain. She’d inherited half upon her grandmother’s death and bought the other half from her old aunt Gert’s estate after the wo
man had passed on eight years ago.
Lisa had come to live here with her gran and her aunt Gert when she was twelve and her mother had died. Only minimal changes had been made in all those years. She kept the dark woodwork, faded wallpaper, hardwood floors, crocheted doilies and vintage furniture well cared for. The house was her link to family and familiarity, her haven and her security. It was the only place she found solitude and escape from the stigma of being the descendent of a town pariah.
“The crowd outside Town Hall waits breathlessly for the true owner of the gold mine to be announced. Over the past months, gold fever has swept the town. Here’s Mayor Brookhurst now.”
Portly and balding, the mayor sported a handlebar mustache that came in handy each year when he starred as the sheriff with the Olde Time Players who put on skits during the summer festival. Because of his penchant for melodramatic acting, Lisa had trouble taking him seriously now.
“This day will go down in Thunder Canyon’s history!” he predicted. “The economy of our town is about to take a turn for the better. We all knew the mine owner could be someone among us. And it is! We have a millionaire living in our midst!”
A buzz of excitement shot through the crowd gathered downtown. Lisa shook her head at the foolishness of the people who thought they were going to get rich quick.
“Humans are born into their lives and have to make of it what they will,” she said to the dogs. “Nobody hands anybody a fortune on a platter.”
At the ding of the microwave, she took out her dinner and seated herself at the chrome-and-red-Formica table.
“First I’d like to acknowledge and thank Brad Vaughn and Emily Stanton. These two were instrumental in the discovery of the mine’s ownership. Without their investigation, we’d all still be wondering.”
“Or not.”
At her voice, Joey looked up and smiled.
She raised her glass of milk in a toast.
“After much researching of the Queen of Hearts claim,” the mayor said, “it has been documented and proven that ownership over the years went from the original filer to Bart Divine to Lily Divine, who later became Lily Divine Harding.”
The name of her infamous ancestor caught Lisa’s attention. The bite she’d taken stuck in her throat and she laid down her fork. Lily Divine, Lisa’s great-great-grandmother, was reputed to have been the owner of a brothel in Thunder Canyon; rumors abounded to this day.
Lisa’s attention focused on what the man was saying.
The mayor held up a framed document and continued. “Lily mortgaged the deed to Amos Douglas in 1890. Proof has been uncovered that after Amos’s death, his wife Catherine intended to return the deed to Lily, but the paperwork was never filed. Here’s what this all boils down to, ladies and gentleman. Lily Divine was the legal owner of the claim at the time of her death.”
“Wow, boys. My great-great-grandma owned a gold mine. I hope this doesn’t mean people are going to ask me about it. Or about her.” Unease slid into the pit of her belly at the thought of being singled out. She’d spent her whole life avoiding the rumors and the stigma surrounding the legend.
The camera zoomed in for a close-up of the mayor, and a hush fell over the crowd. “Today we know that the rightful owner of the Queen of Hearts gold mine is… Lisa Jane Martin, a lifetime resident of Thunder Canyon and the only living descendent of Lily Divine Harding.”
The last bite Lisa’d taken swelled to the size of a grapefruit behind her breastbone and wouldn’t come up or go down. She choked and tried to breathe, to swallow, to do anything but strangle. She stumbled to the chipped porcelain sink and ran a glass of water. She must have heard wrong!
After two glasses of water, the bite went down. She grabbed a paper towel and wiped her chin. When her eyes stopped watering, she turned back to the TV.
Reporters were vying to ask questions and her name kept being mentioned! It was definitely her name. She stared and turned up the volume just in case her hearing had been affected by her near choking death.
“So far Miss Martin hasn’t responded to our attempts to reach her.”
Her gaze shot to the registered letters. Oh, crap.
“But we’ve learned her address and she will be contacted immediately.”
“Oh, no.” She was going to throw up. There was nothing worse than attention. Nothing. Lisa went out of her way to go unnoticed. She’d always been an introvert. Always.
She’d have to escape before they found her. She yanked her denim jacket from the back of the kitchen chair and shrugged into it, fighting with the collar that stubbornly turned under.
Grabbing one of her four key rings, she stared at the keys to dozens of homes. Homes with pets counting on her for their daily walk or for their food and care while their owners were away. She couldn’t run out on her animals. They’d be unattended and no one would know.
There were three dogs in her fenced-in backyard right now, pets in her care during their owners’ trips. She couldn’t just leave, and she had no one to take over for her. She wandered blindly toward the front of the house wondering how she could avoid this. She’d had to live down Lily Divine’s reputation her whole life. Gran and Aunt Gert had been sympathetic and accepting, but they were her father’s family, not her mother’s. They hadn’t shared the black mark of a hussy forebear.
Reeling with confusion, Lisa paused in the hall and leaned back against the papered wall.
Piper came to comfort her first, and she bent forward to receive his devoted concern. Joey followed, finding her ear and giving it a swipe with his tongue.
She had just dried her ear on her sleeve when the doorbell rang.
Her gaze jerked upward.
The dogs barked.
Without thinking, she headed for the entrance. Both dogs ran ahead of her, and she tripped over Piper, catching the doorknob to steady herself. Instinctively she opened the door.
People. A lot of them. Flashes went off, blinding her. A dozen cameras whirred, and boom mikes swung over the heads of the reporters who crowded her front porch. She realized her mistake too late. Barking frantically at all the strangers, her dogs darted out into the throng.
“Have you been following the story of the Queen of Hearts?”
“What are you going to do with the money?”
“Miss Martin, look this way. Are you planning to mine right away?”
“Over here, Miss Martin! What’s your favorite charity?”
“What about environmental protection?”
Frazzled, Lisa tried to see over and around the inquiring reporters in hopes of spotting her dogs. Even if she had an answer, she wouldn’t have spoken in public—and definitely not before a television camera.
“Piper! Come!” She pushed her way through the crush and down the porch stairs. “Joey! Heel!”
“Miss Martin, just a few questions, please.”
She spotted traitorous Joey making friends with a blond woman in a black pantsuit with pink trim. His tail wagged and he was smiling at her. Lisa made a lunge and grabbed his collar. “Heel.”
Piper, obviously the smarter of the two, had a photographer backed up against the trunk of her oak tree and was growling menacingly. She’d never seen him bite anyone, but this fellow would have made a good start, judging from the camera on his shoulder.
After seizing Piper, she dragged both dogs back to the house, across the porch, then slammed and locked the door in the wake of the television and newspaper personnel.
“I hope you boys did your business out there just now, ’cause we’re not opening that door again.”
The doorbell rang and she covered her ears at the shrill barks that followed. “Get off my property! I’m calling the police!” she shouted through the door.
The doorbell didn’t ring again, but the porch floor creaked, and an occasional peek through the lace curtains revealed that several curious information seekers still waited out front to catch her. Eventually she would have to let the dogs out the back. Eventually she would
have to feed her clients’ dogs. Sooner or later she’d have to go for groceries or starve. The stomach ache that had come on wasn’t from hunger, though. It was a sick vulnerability that ached all the way through to her innards.
The phone rang.
For a minute she just listened to the persistent jangle. She’d had so much trouble retrieving messages, she’d gotten fed up with the hassle and had turned off the machine. The phone continued to ring.
If she had caller ID, she’d know whether it was a pet owner or a reporter, she thought belatedly. Until this moment she’d always thought paying to know who was calling—when you could just pick up the phone and see—was a ridiculous expense.
Lisa walked to the kitchen and picked up the receiver on a bright yellow dial wall phone. “Hello?”
“Miss Martin,” the male voice said. “This is Mayor Brookhurst’s assistant. Congratulations! The mayor would like to invite you to Town Hall so we can present you with the deed to the Queen of Hearts and get a couple of signatures. Just official red-tape stuff but necessary. We thought this would be a good time because the local newspeople are still on the scene.”
“I’m not walking out my door.”
“Excuse me?”
“I don’t know how there could be any reporters left there, because they’ve overrun my yard and my porch and are trampling my petunias.”
“It’s a lot of excitement, isn’t it? Thunder Canyon’s never had so many tourists. I’m told we’ll be on the national news this evening.”
“I don’t want to be a news story—national, local or late breaking. Nothing. And I want these guys out of my yard.”
“But, Miss Martin, this is a huge story. You’ve just inherited a gold mine.”
“I don’t want it.”
“But— But—” He sputtered for a moment. “I’m sorry, but it’s yours.”
She hung up.
Another peek revealed cars and news-station vans parked along the tree-lined street and people milling in her front yard, the shadows of the boldest haunting her front porch.
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