Harlequin Superromance November 2013 - Bundle 1 of 2

by Mary Brady

  He’d be inside in a few moments.

  She turned and fled into the kitchen. In there she could freak out for a minute before he got away from the crowd and none of those who peeked in the windows would see her. She leaned over the stainless-steel counter and let the cool of the metal ground her.

  She could do this.

  He’d most likely come to discuss something about the opening.

  Or he probably wanted to deliver a grand bouquet of flowers personally. That would be just like him. Make sure they got there and found a place to be displayed without causing her any inconvenience. Ah-yuh. No inconvenience to see Daniel MacCarey. Only heartache. Of one thing she was sure, she could not die of a broken heart. Alas.

  She heard the door open and let in the street sounds and then it closed again and everything was quiet except the hum of the refrigeration equipment. She was never ready enough to see Daniel’s face, hadn’t prepared herself enough to withstand the storm of loss that would follow when he left.

  A second later, the kitchen door swung open and he stood in the doorway.

  No flowers.

  She refused to worry. It didn’t have to mean anything except the flowers would be delivered. Maybe they would arrive any minute and then she would have something to do with her hands, because now she had to tuck them into her pockets because she couldn’t find anything to clean.

  “Daniel, I’m not sure I have the time right now.” Or the courage.

  “I know I am responsible for the scared look on your face.”

  “Don’t be silly. I have a restaurant opening, unless you’ve forgotten. That’s pretty scary.”

  “So you’re ready to sell great seafood and a passable hamburger to the tourists?”

  “You heard me say that? I thought you were too busy checking out the granite pieces after Earl trashed the site.”

  “I have heard every word you have ever said to me.”

  She had no idea why that took her breath away, but she pulled out the stool from under the stainless-steel counter and took a seat.

  He sat next to her. Then he took hold of her stool and pulled her closer to him. He looked happier than she had ever seen him.

  The change had begun subtly the day he rescued Pirate’s Roost when Heather Loch, his cousin many generations separated, quieted in his arms. If Heather was responsible for the change in Daniel, Mia was grateful.

  Mia got that he didn’t need her for this transformation, that he had reconciled himself to the solo life. It seemed to be going well for him.

  She smiled at him. “Hey, you said you weren’t sure how going over Dr. Donovan’s head to get Pirate’s Roost freed up would turn out. Do you still have a job?” She tried to make her words sound light but concerned.

  “I’m no longer an assistant professor at the university.”

  “Oh, Daniel, where will you go? Positions for an anthropologist in the state of Maine are few and far between.”

  “Thin on the ground, Mrs. Wahl would say.”

  The dread that began to clench her insides when he arrived with no flowers started to bloom in her chest.

  “You’re pretty casual about your future.”

  “Apparently, Dr. Donovan had been doing some creative billing of expenses over the last few years and was hoping to use the treasure of Liam Bailey as a get-out-of-jail-free card with the university. That’s why he was so adamant about keeping Pirate’s Roost. It was for himself, not the university.”

  “Oh, my, what does that mean?”

  “It means he has a lot to pay back and now he is free to seek another job to do so.”

  “They fired him? And they gave his job to you?”

  “They fired him, and they gave the job to a very deserving woman who has been a professor there for several years.”

  “Stop teasing me. I still care what happens to you.”

  “They promoted me to full professor and gave me tenure.”

  “Oh, Daniel.” She hugged him. “That’s wonderful.”

  “I have something else to tell you.”

  “You’re off to Guatemala?”

  “I’m staying right in Maine for as long as I need to be here.”

  “Okay, I’m not guessing anymore. What else do you have to tell me?” She knew it made no difference where he worked or lived or traveled for his job, it would not affect her much—yet she felt a sense of relief knowing he wouldn’t be in another country.

  “Are you ready?”

  “Not yet.” She pointed at his boots. “You had them fixed. You had those old boots you wore the first day fixed. They look great.”

  “Aunt Margaret gave them to me. Said they would give me a good understanding as I pursued my dreams. I couldn’t part with them.”

  Mia swallowed the lump of gratitude in her throat. Daniel had found his way. He’d go on with his life and he’d do it well. “Okay, now I’m ready. What else do you have to tell me?”

  “Heather Loch came to see me at the university. She had some very important things to say to me.”

  Mia didn’t move. She breathed only a few molecules at a time. She was afraid if she breathed more, she might disturb the fragile healing that had begun in Daniel. “What did she say?”

  “She said in fifty years I’d be her.”

  “That you’d have bushy white hair?”

  He nudged her gently. They both leaned against the stainless-steel counter and stared face out toward the large hooded grill. Thanks to him, the kitchen was everything she had dreamed of.

  “She didn’t promise that.”

  “Then I don’t know what that means,” she managed to say.

  “She said she felt as I did when she was my age and look where it got her. She said she stopped taking real life chances, stopped letting people get close to her, and she missed out on a lot, which she now regrets.”

  Mia tried to stay calm. The words he spoke changed nothing.

  “Then she asked me what my wife would have done if she found out a child of ours might die. Would she have married me or not? I thought I knew the answer to that, but Heather wouldn’t let me tell her. She said the answer was not for her, but for me. That I should think about it and not to be selfish when I did.”

  He took hold of her hand. Mia wasn’t even sure he realized he had done it. She sat quietly.

  “And then she told me I was an idiot.”

  A laugh burst from Mia. “An idiot? When was the last time someone called you an idiot?”

  “Never happened before.” He squeezed her hand. “Have I burned every bridge between us?”

  She looked into his eyes, searching for a hint of hope that this was anything but more of the same. “I don’t know. Why did Heather call you an idiot?”

  “The first time she called me an idiot...” He let her chuckle about that and then continued. “She said if I got into a relationship thinking there were guarantees, I needed to take my head out of the sand. Only she didn’t say out of the sand. She was more anatomical.”

  “She said that to you?”

  He nodded slowly.

  “I might—have kept one or two bridges hidden from you.”

  He leaned in and kissed her on the lips.

  It was a wonderful, long kiss, but she’d been here before. Exactly here. What if this was goodbye?

  She broke the kiss and started to get up, but he stopped her and pulled her back down onto the stool.

  He kissed her again and this time the contact paralyzed her. He put a hand behind her head and deepened the kiss, and then pulled back.

  “I’m desperately searching for that bridge here.”

  “I thought...”

  He pulled her against him and kissed her until she put her arms around his neck and kissed him back.
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  She broke away and panted before she spoke. “I can’t let myself dream about us anymore, Daniel. I can’t.”

  * * *

  “MIA...”

  “I lost you, Daniel. I had lost you forever. I could never get used to that.” There was still fear in her voice and he wanted to make that go away.

  “I’m here now.”

  She remained still, stayed where she was. He hadn’t planned this very well today. He just knew he had to find her, make her believe in him again. If he could just figure out the words to make things better.

  “I could not see any other way that seemed fair,” he said at last.

  “That’s part of what makes you who you are. Funny, no matter how much I hurt, I could never hate you.”

  “I would like to make it up to you for my being the idiot.”

  She turned toward him and reached out her hand. Her gentle tentative touch on his face gave him hope. She couldn’t hate him and that gave him hope, too. She was his friend. She loved him as a friend. That was a start.

  He took her hand in both of his and kissed each fingertip.

  She stiffened, but didn’t pull away.

  “I was alone in my office when Heather burst in looking less frazzled and purely determined. Every time she called me an idiot, she made it sound as if she were doing me a favor.”

  The expression on her face didn’t change and that made him hurry on before she bolted.

  “She said I should take a chance on happily ever after, another chance. And for the first time in years, I felt free.”

  She stared at him, her eyes widened.

  “I love you, Mia.”

  “Daniel, I—”

  “I know I’m not doing a very good job with this. Maybe I am an idiot.” A tiny smile curled the corners of her mouth. “But please, if you will still have me, I’m yours.”

  “What about—”

  “What about my past? That’s where I want to leave it. Otherwise I’d be an...”

  “Idiot.” She grinned and his heart soared.

  “Yes, and I don’t like that status much. Even before Heather, Aunt Margaret pleaded with me to find somebody to spend my life with. She would be ecstatic to know I feel I can do that now.” He wanted her to throw herself at him, wind her arms around his neck and never let go, but he wasn’t sure she had that to give anymore. He looked into her blue eyes and searched for the answer. If she rejected him, he’d leave for good this time and let her get on with her life.

  She didn’t say anything, she just stared at him. Unshed tears glistened in her eyes.

  “I hope I have found someone. I hope you will have me after all I’ve done to discourage you.” He kissed the palm of her hand and she curled her fingers around the kiss as if she wanted to keep it forever.

  “I love you, Daniel.” Her voice was low and sweet. “I think I have ever since you didn’t rat me out to the chief that first day. And I have never found a way to stop.”

  Wild joy shot through him. “Mia, I want you in my life forever. I love you.”

  Just then the room seemed to burst into color as the sun came out from behind the clouds and the light from the skylights flooded the gleaming kitchen.

  “Fireworks!” she exclaimed.

  He was sure that must have some special meaning to her.

  “Monique said when a guy told me he loved me, fireworks should go off and the world should suddenly seem brighter.”

  He brought her mouth to his and she kissed him eagerly, putting her arms around him, giving him what he had wanted all along but was afraid to accept.

  He pulled back and smoothed her hair away from her face.

  “If I asked you to marry me, would you think I’ve gone too far in the other direction?”

  “No. No, I would not. I’d accept, but I have one condition.”

  He laughed. She made him laugh and he knew she always would. “Really? A condition? Already?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay. I deserve that. You name it.”

  It was a while before she could name anything, but fireworks went off over and over.

  EPILOGUE

  THE BRIDES AND the grooms and their immediate families were all that fit in the tiny old wooden church for the double wedding ceremony. On the brides’ side were Mia’s parents, Monique’s grandfather and Chief Montcalm. On the grooms’ side were Heather Loch, Mrs. and Mr. Gardner and Lenny’s partner, Officer Doyle.

  Waiting, eagerly, at the Pirate’s Roost for the wedding reception were more fishermen and women and townsfolk from the Braven’s gatherings than could be counted on the fingers and toes of both brides and their spouses. There were on-and off-duty police officers, dry cleaning customers and the owner of said store, a contractor without his blue shirt but with his lovely wife and several of his crew. Also in attendance were four distinguished-looking women and their mates, some university types. There were even a few teenagers, but they didn’t stay past the food.

  Tending to the guests were the most wonderful bunch of workers, none of whom had been found digging for treasure anywhere in town.

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from THE MOMENT OF TRUTH by Tara Taylor Quinn.

  CHAPTER ONE

  “COME ON, JOSH, it’s only a few weeks before Thanksgiving, please stay until after the holiday....”

  Joshua P. Redmond III, heir to a conglomeration of holdings that spanned the globe, replayed his mother’s words as he stood alone in the elevator of the Rose Garden Residential Resort, watching the floor lights blink their way upward.

  Two, three, four.

  “My presence is a detriment to Father’s firm, and a source of incredible pain to the Wellingtons.” His stilted response followed his mother’s plea in his replay of that morning’s breakfast table conversation.

  “You are our son, Josh. Your father cares more about you than he does about the firm.”

  Six, seven, eight.

  “And you are more important to us than the Wellingtons, too, you know that.”

  And if tradition provided for a small family gathering at the Redmond mansion, Josh might have stayed—to please his mother who’d done nothing but champion him since the day he was born.

  Nine, ten, eleven.

  But Thanksgiving at the Redmond estate had always been a highly coveted social affair among Boston’s elite. To uninvite the Wellingtons would be in poor taste. Beyond indecent.

  It wasn’t anything that would have crossed his mind six months ago.

  Twelve, thirteen, fourteen.

  “I’m leaving this evening, Mom. It’s for the best.”

  She’d nodded then, blinking away tears. He knew she’d given in because his going was for the best. And because she’d already pushed him as far as she could in getting him to agree to relocate to the godforsaken desert town of Shelter Valley.

  As godforsaken as he was, he should fit right in there.

  Seventeen.

  A bell dinged gently, followed by the almost imperceptible glide to a stop that preceded the opening of the doors in front of him.

  Plush beige carpet greeted him. Stepping out, he hardly noticed the cream-colored walls with maroon accents, or the expensive-looking paintings adorning them. Michelle Wellington’s suite, one of four on the floor, was to the right. He headed in that direction.

  Who would ever have believed, two months ago, when they’d arrived in separate cars for their combined bachelor/bachelorette party, that the vivacious and sexy, gracious and gorgeous twenty-seven-year-old brunette would be reduced to living in a long-term care facility? An expensive and elegant one, to be sure, but still a home for those who couldn’t function on their own.

  Michelle should have been lounging on a private
beach on an island off the French coast, enjoying her honeymoon— their honeymoon.

  “Hi, sweetie.” He announced himself the very same way every time he visited.

  Her vacant gaze continued to stare forward.

  Approaching the maroon velvet-upholstered chair, he held out the sprig of colorful wildflowers in his hand. Michelle loved natural arrangements, colorful arrangements, not hothouse or professionally raised blooms. Something he’d learned from her mother while they were both sitting in the hospital waiting room two months before.

  Dressed in a silk blouse and linen pants, she showed no reaction to the flowers he’d placed in her direct line of vision. The ties holding her upright and in the chair were discreet—and all that he saw.

  “I brought flowers,” he said. He’d have brought chocolate, too, if she’d been able to taste it through the feeding tube that administered all of her nourishment these days.

  No more decadence for Michelle Wellington.

  No more sushi or expensive wine, shopping, traveling or any of the other things she’d loved.

  And he, Joshua P. Redmond III, descendent not only of the Boston Redmonds, but also, on his mother’s side, of the even more influential Boston Montfords, was largely to blame.

  * * *

  “HEY, LITTLE FELLA, where’s your family?”

  The soft, feminine voice floated through the balmy Arizona night, seemingly out of nowhere.

  Stopping on the path behind the Montford University library, a shortcut to the parking lot where she’d left her car, twenty-five-year-old Dana Harris listened.

  “It’s okay, little guy,” Dana heard the woman say. “I won’t hurt you.”

  Dana hardly took a breath as she strained to pinpoint the direction the voice came from.

  “Come on, it’s okay. See? I won’t hurt you. Where do you belong?”

  The voice came from the right, and all she could see there was a huge desert plant of some kind. Still fairly new to campus, Dana didn’t know what lay behind the large desert bush that stood well over her head. She didn’t usually park where she’d parked that evening, didn’t usually take this route to her car and had never studied at the library this late before.