The Return of Brody McBride
Page 32
“I’ll drive you home. You’re in no condition to be left on your own.”
“I don’t need your help.”
“You’ve got it all the same. In some roundabout way, this is partially my fault. The least I can do is make sure you’re tended to at the hospital and you’re safe when you return.”
Claire considered the shambles of her dining room and patio. The glass scattered on the floor and the giant hole in the sliding glass door. Her mind spun out with all she needed to do to put things right. Call the insurance company and a glass repair service. Clean the floor and board up the window. There went her kitchen budget. The trip to the hospital would probably wipe it out.
“No new refrigerator, I guess.”
“Dinosaurs aren’t as old as that thing you’ve got in your kitchen,” Dylan teased.
Owen’s laugh and smile was sure to pull any woman in the vicinity under his enigmatic spell.
She couldn’t help herself, she laughed with them. If it held a note of hysteria, oh well. She hurt everywhere, her muscles ached, and she felt like crying, but the tears didn’t come.
“The man who did this really hates you,” she said.
“I can handle him. He’s not a nice guy. He beat and mistreated his wife for years. She finally had enough and pressed charges. I convinced her to leave him for good.”
The frustration in his voice spoke of a lot more to the story. “You don’t think she’ll stay away from him.”
“I know he won’t stay away from her. We’ll find him and make sure he pays for hurting you.”
“You think he’ll come back.”
“If he thinks you’re tied to me, he might.”
She appreciated his honesty and ran her shaking hand through her hair and brought it back down to her lap. He took it into his warm, rough hands and held it. Their eyes met again and she fell into the blue depths and his earnest gaze.
“You’ll be okay. I promise.”
Unable to answer, she gave him a nod. She wanted to believe him, but she’d learned over the past few years not to rely on anyone but herself for everything. She’d worked hard to rebuild her life and find a direction that made her feel self-assured and accomplished. She thought she’d put fear behind her and embraced this new life and living alone.
She’d find her center again, once the initial terror wore off and she had her home back to rights. She’d take on a project in the house, maybe finish the master bath. She’d already bought all the supplies. She imagined how it would look once complete and sighed. God, how she’d like to sink into a warm bath, close her eyes, and forget this day ever happened.
“Time to go,” the paramedic said.
Owen stood and backed away, giving her space, but she wanted to call him back. The reassuring feeling she’d had when he held her hand disappeared under the rush of pain and fear she couldn’t escape.
Her head spun and she reached up and put her hand to her aching head and the lemon-sized knot at the back. The paramedics had cleaned off the blood. Right guy gave her an ice pack and she leaned back on it, closing her eyes.
“I’ll be right behind you, Claire. I’ll catch up to you once the doctor sees you,” Owen promised.
“You’re very kind, Mr. McBride, but it’s not necessary. I’m sure I can find my own way home.”
“My name is Owen. Use it,” he pressed gently. “Get used to me hanging around. Until they find and lock up Dale, I’m not taking any chances he comes back and hurts you again. Besides, someone needs to help you clean up this place.”
“I’ll take care of it.”
“You don’t have to do it alone. Get her in the ambulance,” he ordered the paramedics, not giving her a chance to argue further. Funny, she didn’t want to argue with him. She liked the idea of him hanging around. Who wouldn’t want a gorgeous man to help her out and protect her from the bad guy? Besides, she just liked looking at him. Her skin still tingled where he’d brushed his hand up and down her arm. She wondered if he’d make the rest of her feel that good if he kept touching her. Everywhere.
Maybe she really did need her head examined.
About the Author
* * *
JENNIFER RYAN writes romantic suspense and contemporary small-town romances featuring strong men and equally resilient women. Her stories are filled with love, friendship, and the happily-ever-after we all hope to find. Jennifer lives in the San Francisco Bay Area with her husband and three children. When she isn’t writing a book, she’s reading one.
Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins authors.
Also by Jennifer Ryan
Chasing Morgan
The Right Bride
Lucky Like Us
Saved by the Rancher
Short Stories
“Can’t Wait”
(appears in All I Want for Christmas Is a Cowboy)
“Waiting For You”
(appears in Confessions of a Secret Admirer)
Give in to your impulses . . .
Read on for a sneak peek at four brand-new
e-book original tales of romance from Avon Books.
Available now wherever e-books are sold.
THE VALENTINE’S DAY DISASTER
A TWILIGHT, TEXAS NOVELLA
By Lori Wilde
CONFESSIONS OF A SECRET ADMIRER
A VALENTINE’S DAY ANTHOLOGY
By Jennifer Ryan, Candis Terry, and Jennifer Seasons
RUSHING AMY
A LOVE AND FOOTBALL NOVEL
By Julie Brannagh
WICKED EARL SEEKS PROPER HEIRESS
THE HUSBAND HUNTERS CLUB
By Sara Bennett
An Excerpt from
THE VALENTINE’S DAY DISASTER
A Twilight, Texas Novella
by Lori Wilde
New York Times bestselling author Lori Wilde returns to Twilight, Texas, with another fun and sexy holiday novella. This time, someone may find love in the most unexpected place: the Valentine’s Day charity bachelor auction!
“Question. How can anyone scowl so fiercely with a stage full of half-naked men parading around in front of her?” asked Jana Gerard.
Sesty Snow ironed her forehead with two fingers. Honestly? She wished she could skip right over the annual Twilight, Texas Valentine’s Day celebration that now included the first ever Hunks-in-the-Hood bachelor auction.
The event—and the cutesy name—had been her own invention, but now she was stuck with it. Last summer she’d entered a hometown competition designed to spotlight local talent and create new events. It was designed to bring additional tourism dollars into Hood County and justify the new lakeside conference center that some gung-ho politico had convinced voters they needed.
One hundred entries, and winner, winner, chicken dinner, she’d beaten out them all.
At the time, peacock proud of herself, she collected the trappings of success. Renting office space on the town square for her fledgling event planning business. Buying her first home. Dating a hotshot lawyer.
But now?
Not so much.
However, she wasn’t a quitter. Never had been, never would be. That is unless she counted pulling the plug on her relationship with Josh Langtree. She’d quit that easily enough.
Aw c’mon. Why was she thinking about Josh now? It had been almost ten years since she’d last seen him.
Why?
Well, the man had been her first love, and she was reevaluating her life since getting dumped by said hotshot lawyer. Memory lane trips were de rigueur after breakups, were they not?
That, plus Josh had been all over the news lately, first crashing spectacularly in a NASCAR race in November and then getting dumped by his fashion model fiancée. Hey, they had something in common. Both of them were losers in the game of love.
When first she heard about his accident her impulse had been to call him and give condolences, but she had zero clue about how to get hold of him. N
o doubt he had bodyguards, and an entourage keeping the hoi polloi at bay.
Jana snapped her fingers in front of Sesty’s face. “You stroke out on me or something?”
Sesty blinked. “Thanks for the heads-up on the scowling. I didn’t realize I was doing that. I’m working on a headache. Getting these guys to listen to me is like herding stray cats stoned on peyote.”
“Who’s stoned on peyote?” Jana’s sidelong glance sliced to the onstage studs, her lips softening into an expression Sesty thought best belonged behind closed doors, a sultry tilt of desire and seduction. “The cats or the herder?”
“Either or.”
“Maybe both?” Jana swung her gaze back to Sesty. “Is something wrong?”
Jana was willow-branch thin and sported a zoo of colorful tattoos that included a parrot on her left shoulder, leopard spots across her chest, and exotic green serpents twining around her right leg. She wore a floral peasant skirt, ankle boots, and a short-waisted, brown leather jacket. Her eggplant-colored hair was clumped in dreadlocks, and numerous piercings punctuated her face. Two years ago she’d moved to Twilight from Austin, and the townspeople viewed her as something of a lovable oddity.
Sesty’s parents had advised her against hiring Jana. “Image is important,” they’d said. “Your assistant is an extension of you. She’s far too Bohemian.”
Secretly, a small rebellious part of her liked that Jana’s appearance upset her parents. The girl was a damned good assistant, never mind her eccentricities, and that’s all Sesty cared about.
“No, no, nothing’s wrong.” Sesty resisted the urge to sigh. “It’s just that there’s so much to do.”
“I’ve never seen you this distracted no matter how much stress you’re under. Something’s up. What gives?”
“I’m fine,” Sesty assured her, tucking her tablet computer under her arm and clapping her hands. “Ian Carter, could you please put down the cell phone for two minutes?”
Ian, the owner of the local jet-ski dealership and heart-attack-gorgeous, grinned a handsome-guys-can-get-away-with-anything grin and held up a finger. “Just one more text. I’m making V-Day dinner rez for me and my gal at the Funny Farm.”
“Lucky girl.” Jana breathed. “The food there is delicious, and the company . . .” She cast a roving eye over Ian’s hard body and lowered her voice. “Let’s just say if he didn’t have a girlfriend, I’d hit that.”
“Men.” Sesty couldn’t contain the sigh any longer. It slipped over her lips, soft and disappointed. “Why is he waiting until Wednesday to get a Friday reservation? He’ll never get in.”
CONFESSIONS OF A SECRET ADMIRER
A Valentine’s Day Anthology
by Jennifer Ryan, Candis Terry, and Jennifer Seasons
Some secrets are meant to be revealed . . .
Or so you’ll discover, in three sexy, unforgettable Valentine’s Day stories from New York Times & USA Today bestselling author Jennifer Ryan and contemporary romance stars Candis Terry and Jennifer Seasons.
Waiting for You by Jennifer Ryan
Rancher Grant Devane has waited for Taylor Larson’s return to Fallbrook for more than ten years. Now that the fearless beauty has come home on her terms, he’ll do anything and everything necessary to win back her heart.
Sweet Fortune by Candis Terry
Sarah Randall is tired of being invisible to the opposite sex. So when a leap of faith sends her to Sweet, Texas, and into the path of ridiculously hot Deputy Brady Bennett, she’s determined to catch his eye . . . even if that means staying hidden just a little bit longer.
Major League Crush by Jennifer Seasons
Professional baseball player Drake Paulson can’t help wanting to know more about his cute, shy neighbor. But when he discovers her deepest secret and she flees, it’ll be up to him to win her trust—and her love—one gift at a time.
An Excerpt from
RUSHING AMY
A Love and Football Novel
by Julie Brannagh
When Amy meets football star-turned-analyst Matt at her sister Emily’s wedding, she knows he will turn her world upside down—but is that necessarily a bad thing? Find out in the second installment of Julie Brannagh’s irresistible new series.
The wedding was over, and Amy Hamilton stood amongst the wreckage.
Every flat surface in the Woodmark Hotel’s grand ballroom was strewn with dirty plates, empty glasses, crumpled napkins, spent champagne bottles—the outward indication that a large group of people had one hell of a party. A few hours ago, Amy’s older sister Emily had married Brandon McKenna, the man of her dreams.
Three hundred guests toasted the bride and groom repeatedly. Happy tears flowed as freely as the champagne. The dinner was delicious, the cake, even better. The newlyweds and their guests danced to a live band till after midnight. The hotel ballroom was transformed into a candlelit fairyland for her sister’s flawless evening, but now all that was left was the mess. The perfectly arranged profusion of flowers was drooping. So was she.
Amy arranged flowers for weddings almost every weekend. Doing the flowers for Emily’s wedding, though, was an extra-special thrill. She’d seen it all over the past few years, first as an apprentice to another florist, and then after opening her own shop a little over a year ago. It meant long hours and hard work, but she was determined her business would succeed.
Amy took a last look at the twinkling lights of the boats crossing Lake Washington through the floor-to-ceiling windows along the west wall. She couldn’t help but notice she stood alone in a room that had been packed with people only an hour or so ago. She’d been alone for a long time now, and she didn’t like the feeling at all. She picked up the black silk chiffon wrap draped over yet another chair, and the now-wilting bridal bouquet Emily had tossed to her. Obviously, she’d stalled long enough. She wondered if the kitchen staff would mind whipping up a vat of chocolate mousse to drown her sorrows in.
Heavy footsteps sounded behind Amy on the ballroom floor, and she turned toward them. The man she’d watched on a hundred NFL Today pregame broadcasts strolled toward her. Any woman with a pulse knew who he was, let alone any woman hopelessly addicted to Pro Sports Network.
Matt Stephens was tall. His body, sculpted by years of workouts, was showcased in a perfectly tailored navy suit, but that didn’t tell the whole story. The wavy, slightly mussed blue-black hair, the square jaw, the olive skin that seemed to glow, and the flawless, white smile were exactly what Amy saw on her television screen each week during football season. Television didn’t do him justice. After all, on her TV screen he didn’t prowl. He locked eyes with her as he crossed the ballroom.
She glanced around to confirm she was still alone in the ballroom, and the beeline he was making was actually toward her. She couldn’t imagine what he wanted.
She knew a lot about him. Matt was a former NFL star, and a good friend of her new brother-in-law’s. When Matt got tired of playing with the Dallas Cowboys (three Super Bowl rings and six visits to the Pro Bowl later), he’d played in Seattle for the last two years of his career, afterward embarking on the wide world of game analysis and product endorsements. Guys wanted to be him, and women just plain wanted him.
Well, women who were still on the playing field wanted him. She was putting herself on injured reserve. After all, once burned, twice shy, and every other cliché she’d ever heard that reminded her of salt being poured on the open wound that was her heart.
Mostly, guys who looked like Matt weren’t looking for someone like her: A woman more interested in being independent than being some guy’s arm candy.
Matt stopped a few feet away from Amy. The deep dimples on either side of his lips flashed as his mouth moved into an irresistible grin.
“Hello, there.”
“You’re late.” The words flew out of her mouth before she realized she’d said it aloud.
An Excerpt from
WICKED EARL SEEKS
PROPER HEIRESS
The Husband Hunters Club
by Sara Bennett
Sara Bennett concludes her fan-favorite Husband Hunters series with an earl, an heiress, and an accidental attraction . . .
After a moment of awkward silence, she took a step closer and lowered her voice. “I do not wish to be rude, Lord Southbrook, but why are you here? I do not believe you have any intention of donating to Dr. Simmons’s cause, and as you can see, you are disrupting our guests.”
His smile was rather grim. “Disrupting your guests was not what I intended when I decided to come here tonight, Lady Averil. I wondered if you were recovered from . . . well, recovered, and I thought I would be able to speak to you without doing you any harm, with so many watchful eyes upon us. Eustace wanted to call on you at your house, you know, but I dissuaded him.”
Averil blinked up at him. He noticed her hair was beginning to hang rather unsteadily from its pins and the wax flowers were sliding down from her crown. His fingers itched to free the heavy tresses, and he clenched his hands to remind himself where he was.
“Then . . . you came here to see me?” she said. “But why?”
“I did come to see you,” he agreed, “but don’t tell anyone. It would ruin your reputation if they knew the Wicked Earl was seeking you out. I have only to smile at a woman and she is shunned.”
Averil gave an impatient sigh. “Don’t be silly,” she declared. “You are not as hazardous as you think you are, my lord. Your reputation may be a little shadowy but it isn’t so very bad. Is it?”
Mockery filled his face. “You underestimate the power of public opinion, Lady Averil.”
“Oh, but surely—”
“Please, no pity. I am happy being an outcast. I can no longer imagine putting up with the excruciating boredom of conforming to society’s rules.”