Almost Heaven

Almost Heaven Charlotte Douglas Home Is Where The Heart(Ache) Is…Six years ago she left Pleasant Valley to follow a dream…and now she's back, knee-deep in a nightmare. With her parents' marriage on the rocks, her grandmother at her wit's end and the man she once loved–and left–looking better than she remembers, Merrilee Stratton feels nothing but heartache.Although veterinarian Grant Nathan hasn't forgotten the way Merrilee agreed to his proposal and then left town, she needs his help. Pretty soon, thanks to Grant's sexy Southern drawl–and all the nights she's spent dreaming about what could have been–Merrilee begins to reconsider her choices. Like leaving the bright lights of New York behind and returning to the arms of the only man she's ever truly loved.Because everyone needs…A Place To Call Home “Merrilee, are you afraid to be alone with me?” Grant asked innocently “No!” Well… “Good. I’ll feed you, then take you home. Besides, I want to show off the house. It’s changed a lot since the last time you saw it.” If she continued to object, he might sense the reasons behind her reluctance, and her pride couldn’t allow that, so she abandoned her protests. But she’d shut the door on a life with Grant long ago. Tonight she’d make certain it remained locked and barred. As they neared Grant’s place, her curiosity stirred. The one glimpse she’d had of the house that fateful summer years back had revealed a log cabin, ready to collapse in a strong wind. She’d hated the house the moment she saw it, but not liking the place had been the least of her problems that day. The following morning she’d broken their engagement, certain she’d done the right thing. Even though she’d missed Grant terribly, she’d never doubted she’d made the best decision. The last thing on earth she wanted was for Grant to prove her wrong. Dear Reader, To paraphrase an ancient Chinese saying, we live in interesting times. Due to tumultuous world events, we appreciate more than ever security, solace, acceptance and love as bulwarks against the troubles of the day. In my new series, A PLACE TO CALL HOME, I’ve created a small town in upstate South Carolina where love and acceptance, along with only the occasional mayhem, abound. For the residents of Pleasant Valley, friends are family, and family is everything. In Almost Heaven, book one of the series, Merrilee Stratton has fled Pleasant Valley for New York City to follow her dream of becoming a famous photographer. When a family crisis calls her home, she can’t avoid her ex-fianc?, Grant Nathan, a handsome country vet. Will Merrilee come to realize that everything she’s searched for has been in Pleasant Valley all along—and that there’s no place like home? I hope you enjoy Merrilee and Grant’s story, and, as we say in the South, y’all come back and visit Pleasant Valley again in book two, One Good Man, will be out in January 2005. Happy reading! Almost Heaven Charlotte Douglas www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk) ABOUT THE AUTHOR The major passions of Charlotte Douglas’s life are her husband—her high school sweetheart to whom she’s been married for over three decades—and writing compelling stories. A national bestselling author, she enjoys filling her books with love of home and family, special places and happy endings. With their two cairn terriers, she and her husband live most of the year on Florida’s central west coast, but spend the warmer months at their North Carolina mountaintop retreat. No matter what time of year, you can reach her at [email protected] (mailto:[email protected]). She’s always delighted to hear from readers. Books by Charlotte Douglas HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE 591—IT’S ABOUT TIME 623—BRINGING UP BABY 868—MONTANA MAIL-ORDER WIFE* (#litres_trial_promo) 961—SURPRISE INHERITANCE 999—DR. WONDERFUL 1027—VERDICT: DADDY 1038—ALMOST HEAVEN† (#litres_trial_promo) HARLEQUIN INTRIGUE 380—DREAM MAKER 434—BEN’S WIFE 482—FIRST-CLASS FATHER 515—A WOMAN OF MYSTERY 536—UNDERCOVER DAD 611—STRANGER IN HIS ARMS* (#litres_trial_promo) 638—LICENSED TO MARRY 668—MONTANA SECRETS 691—THE BRIDE’S RESCUER 740—THE CHRISTMAS TARGET Contents Chapter One (#u7e681490-3602-57f8-883f-aa2fbb367b19) Chapter Two (#uebcc0952-55f7-5534-9155-e3156539f9f0) Chapter Three (#u67ce797b-19ed-5c82-8013-07f63d5209be) Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter One MJ Stratton hoisted the strap of her camera bag higher over her shoulder and wearily tackled the last flight of stairs to her fourth-floor apartment. “First thing when I become rich and famous,” she muttered with what little breath she had left, “I’m renting in a building with an elevator.” Unlocking her door, she consoled herself with the fact that at least her apartment had a comfortable bed, one she would hit as soon as she dumped her equipment. The wedding reception at the posh Manhattan hotel had lasted past 1:00 a.m., and the bride’s mother had insisted that MJ snap candid shots until the final guest departed. After entering the apartment, she secured the door behind her and flicked on the lights. With a sigh of relief, she slid her bulky camera bag into the closet and tossed her coat and hat on top of it. Kicking off her shoes and tugging off her blouse, she headed for the bedroom. The wedding had been a royal pain. The bride had refused to be photographed from any angle except her left side, and the bride’s mother had followed MJ like a Velcro shadow, attempting to dictate every picture’s composition. Fortunately, MJ reassured herself, the hefty fee from the annoying assignment would pay her bills until she lined up more work. If all else failed, the job at the gallery was still open. Maybe she should just take it. She’d engaged in this argument with herself before and, as always, ended up admitting she’d have more money with a steady job but even less time for her own art. She’d arrived in New York six years ago expecting to make a big splash with her photographs, but so far she had yet to produce a ripple. Weariness consumed her. After pulling on the oversize T-shirt she used as a nightgown, she crawled between the covers and switched off the lamp. She would have dropped instantly to sleep, except for the insistent flashing of a small red light, indicating a message on the answering machine on her bedside table. She turned onto her other side and pulled the pillow over her head to block the annoying blinking. The message could wait until morning. It is already morning, she thought with an exhausted sigh, but no point in listening to the message now. Whoever had left it had probably long since gone to bed. MJ closed her eyes, but sleep wouldn’t come. The waiting message stirred her curiosity. What if it was her big break, a call from a gallery that had seen her work and wanted to exhibit her photographs? Or an offer for another job, photographing a Bar Mitzvah or a lavish children’s party with income that would keep her solvent into next month? Unable to sleep without knowing, she rolled over, flipped on the light and pressed Play. “Hello, Merrilee June.” The soft, cultured drawl of her grandmother filled the room, but a sense of urgency tinged its usual calm. “We have a family emergency and I need you at home right away. I’ve reserved you a seat on the 7:00 a.m. flight out of JFK into Greenville. See you soon.” “End of message,” the machine announced. Heart pounding, MJ bolted upright in bed. “That’s it?” she yelled at the machine. “You aren’t going to tell me what’s wrong?” Adrenaline surged through her veins. Sleep was impossible with a dozen dire possibilities flitting through her mind. She grabbed the phone and dialed her grandmother’s number. After waiting more than twelve rings, she had no answer. Her nana, Sally Mae McDonough, apparently still persisted in her lifelong habit of unplugging her phone when she went to bed. “If it’s bad news, I’d rather hear it in the morning,” Nana had always insisted. “And if it’s urgent, the police will come to the house and wake me.” Bad news? MJ’s heart raced. Had Nana, sticking to her own philosophy, decided to spare MJ the unhappy details until daylight? Lacking her grandmother’s stoicism, MJ dialed her parents’ home. She wanted to hear their voices to assure herself that Jim and Cat Stratton were all right. After four rings, her mother’s voice mail kicked in. MJ tried three times with the same results. At each unanswered call, her panic grew. With trembling fingers, she punched in the number of her father’s veterinary clinic. Again she reached only voice mail with a message to call Dr. Grant Nathan, her father’s partner, in case of an emergency. Desperate to discover what crisis had precipitated her grandmother’s cryptic message, MJ tried Information. “What city?” the computerized voice asked. “Pleasant Valley, South Carolina.” “What listing?” “The Pleasant Valley Police Department.” The artificial voice rattled off a number. MJ scribbled it hastily, then punched it in. “Police Department,” a familiar female voice answered. “Officer Sawyer speaking.” “Brynn! Thank God, I’m actually talking to a live person,” MJ said. “Merrilee? Are you in town?” her old high school friend asked. MJ pictured Brynn, short red curls, intense, dark blue eyes, her slender but curvy figure doing things for a police uniform no male body ever could. Guys in Pleasant Valley had been known to break speed limits just for an encounter with the beautiful Officer Sawyer. Not that it ever did them any good. Brynn was married to her job. “I’m in New York,” MJ explained. “I had a message from Nana about a family emergency, but she didn’t say what it is. I’m frantic and can’t reach anyone. Do you know if my folks are okay?” A dead silence on the other end of the line intensified MJ’s fears. “Brynn? Are you still there?” “Your folks are fine, as far as I’m aware,” Brynn answered in a tone that indicated she knew more than she was telling. “I saw your dad and grandmother earlier tonight before I came to work.” “And my mom?” “She’s taking classes at the university in Asheville. Sometimes she stays over if she’s working late in the library.” MJ wasn’t surprised that Brynn knew her mother’s schedule. In the small town of Pleasant Valley, everyone knew everybody else’s business, one of the many reasons MJ had moved away immediately after her graduation from college. A chilling thought struck her. “What if there’s been an accident?” “I would have heard about a traffic accident through our dispatcher,” Brynn assured her. “Look, if it makes you feel better, I can call the local hospitals and check to see if either of your parents or your grandmother has been admitted.” “Would you?” MJ remembered what six years in the big city had caused her to forget. Brynn had always bent over backward to help people. Her willingness to be of assistance was one of many factors that made her a good cop. And a terrific friend. “Give me your number,” Brynn said, “and I’ll call you back as soon as I’ve checked.” MJ rattled off her number, thanked her old friend and hung up. Sleep was impossible now, so she might as well pack. She’d have to leave for the airport soon anyway. With cold dread weighting her heart, she tossed clothes into her suitcase. She was zipping the lid when the phone rang. “It’s Brynn,” her friend said when MJ answered. “I checked the local hospitals. No admissions for any of your folks.” “Thanks, Brynn. I owe you.” MJ replaced the receiver in its cradle. Brynn’s news gave her little reassurance. If a member of MJ’s family had suffered an illness or injury serious enough to require a trauma unit, they’d have been transported to the Greenville hospital. Or her mother could be hospitalized in Asheville. MJ tugged on the clothes she’d removed earlier and called a cab. Anxiety overrode her anger toward Nana for leaving such a cryptic message. In just a few hours MJ would be in Pleasant Valley again. For the first time since she had left after college, she was actually looking forward to returning to the boring, sleepy little town, if only to settle her fears. EXHAUSTION temporarily overcame her foreboding. The flight attendant’s voice, announcing their imminent arrival in Greenville, awoke MJ. With consciousness, her anxiety returned in a rush. As soon as the plane taxied to a stop, MJ grabbed her camera bag from the overhead compartment and headed for the exit. Within minutes she was striding across the concourse toward the baggage carousels. Suddenly strong hands grasped her shoulders from behind and swung her around. “Merrilee June. Long time, no see.” The rich, deep voice initiated a cascade of memories, all pleasurable; ones she’d worked hard to forget. She glanced up at Grant Nathan, who’d intercepted her. If bad luck came in bundles, here was walking proof. For six years she’d managed to avoid him, had worked hard to push him from her mind. Now she tried to stop the corresponding flutter of her heart. She might as well have attempted to stop its beating. If anything, the vet was even more attractive than she’d remembered, exuding enough self-confidence and masculinity to make any woman’s heart stutter. She’d forgotten how tall he was, well over six feet, and his practice as a country vet, tramping through fields, lifting small animals and maneuvering cows and horses for treatment, had given him a physique few personal trainers could replicate. In spite of her efforts not to, she remembered too well how many times she’d nestled her head against those broad shoulders and how comforting the embrace of his strong arms had been. Six years had added a maturity that sat well on the strong planes of his tanned face. Tiny lines from laughter and squinting in the bright sun framed bourbon-brown eyes flecked with gold. A few premature strands of gray, threaded through his thick honey-colored hair at the temples, were the only visible signs of his thirty-four years. His dimpled grin displayed the same boyish charm and reminded MJ too well of the many times those lips had kissed hers. She shoved aside the memories, whose pull had been both the driving force and the toughest part of her decision to leave Pleasant Valley for good. “What are you doing here, Grant? Taking a trip?” He held her by the shoulders with strong but gentle hands, and his gaze searched her face, as if in assessment. “I’m on an errand of mercy. Your grandmother sent me to pick you up.” MJ wiggled from his grasp before she succumbed to the desire to snuggle against him, as she had so often in the old days. Those times were gone forever. “You’ve wasted a trip. I’m renting a car.” “Mrs. McDonough said there’s no need. And she doesn’t want you driving while you’re agitated.” MJ’s temper soared. “I’d be a lot less agitated if I knew what the hell is going on.” Already worried sick about her folks, she resented having to struggle with old feelings for Grant Nathan, too. “Besides, I’ll need a car of my own, so you might as well leave.” Grant shook his head. “You grandmother said you can use hers. She doesn’t drive much these days.” MJ’s breath caught in her throat. “Nana’s all right?” “Feisty as ever,” Grant said with a grin. “Then what’s the family emergency she called me about?” Her anger flared again, and a sneaking suspicion kicked in. “This isn’t just a ploy to lure me home, is it?” MJ wouldn’t put it past Nana to play at matchmaking, but surely even her persistent grandmother recognized that what MJ had shared with Grant was long over. Grant’s expression sobered. He glanced across the concourse as if to avoid her gaze. “I don’t know if emergency is the word I’d use, but you’re definitely needed here.” MJ’s knees went weak and she sank onto the nearest seat. “My mom? Dad? Are they okay?” “They’re not sick or injured, if that’s what you’re asking.” Again he evaded her eyes. “But they’re okay?” she insisted. Grant looked ill at ease. “I promised your grandmother I’d let her fill you in.” MJ crossed her arms over her chest and set her jaw. “I’ve been up all night, I’m worried out of my mind, and I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what’s wrong. Something is wrong, isn’t it?” “Merrilee June—” “I’m MJ now.” Grant’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Why?” “So I don’t sound like a character from Gone With the Wind,” MJ said irritably. “Now, are you going to tell me what’s wrong or not?” “MJ,” Grant said with a grimace, as if the nickname left a bad taste in his mouth, “you know I won’t go back on my word to your grandmother.” “A thousand horrible possibilities are driving me crazy! Don’t you feel any loyalty to me?” His expression darkened. “As I recall, you cut me loose from any obligation six years ago.” MJ’s panic meter was registering overload. She grabbed Grant by the biceps and attempted to shake him. She might as well have tried to move a tree. “Then for old times’ sake, please tell me what’s wrong.” Her voice, loud and frantic, traveled across the concourse, drawing stares from other travelers. “Calm down, Merrilee June, or I’ll have to go to my truck for horse tranquilizers.” “Calm down!” Her voice rose an octave. “How calm would you be in my place?” “The sooner we get going, the sooner your grandmother can fill you in,” Grant said, so reasonably she wanted to hit him. “I’ve already told you it’s not a life-and-death matter. Cat and Jim couldn’t be healthier. Sally Mae will explain the rest.” Admitting defeat, MJ released her grip. She’d forgotten how stubborn Grant could be. Not actually forgotten, she realized. She’d simply relegated everything about him to the back of her mind. When she’d first moved to New York, that tactic was the only way she’d survived missing him. “Is that all your luggage?” Grant nodded toward her camera bag. MJ shook her head. “I have another bag. I didn’t know how long I’d have to stay. Still don’t,” she said accusingly, “since I haven’t a clue why I’m here in the first place.” Grant grasped her elbow and steered her toward the baggage claim area. “I’m not breaking my promise to Sally Mae by admitting you’ll be here a good while.” “A week?” MJ prodded. “Probably longer,” Grant said, “but, hey, it’s spring-time in Pleasant Valley. You might as well enjoy it.” At Grant’s easy manner, MJ’s anxiety lessened slightly. As her father’s business partner, Grant was fond of both her parents. If they were in imminent danger, he wouldn’t be so relaxed. Intense curiosity replaced her fears. What in heaven’s name was going on that would make Nana call her home from New York in the middle of the night? And how serious was the situation that solving it could take weeks? MJ quickened her steps. Nana had a lot of explaining to do. MJ parted with Grant at the baggage carousel and waited for her luggage while he went for his truck. When she picked up her bag, exited the airport and found him parked at curbside, her heart did flip-flops. The pickup was new, but the same make and color as the truck he’d had six years ago. The years melted away and she was a college student again, home for spring break and waiting for Grant to arrive at her parents’ house. She’d known Grant all her life. He was six years older, but MJ had been best friends with his sister Jodie. The Nathans lived around the block from the Strattons, their backyards adjoined, and MJ and Jodie had been inseparable as children, even though Jodie had been two grades ahead of MJ in school. For MJ, an only child, Jodie had been the sister she’d always wanted. And Grant had been the handsome big brother, one who couldn’t be bothered with “the DTs,” short for Double Trouble, as he’d called MJ and Jodie. The summer before MJ’s senior year in college, everything had changed. Until that summer, she hadn’t seen much of Grant for years. First, he’d gone away to college, then veterinary school, and finally to an internship at an animal clinic in Georgia. Jodie had kept MJ informed of her brother’s activities in her letters to MJ at school, but MJ, busy with college courses and new friends, hadn’t given much thought to the boy she’d had a crush on through elementary and high school. The summer after her junior year, her parents had welcomed her home with such enthusiasm that MJ again experienced momentary guilt at choosing a college in California that had kept her so far away. After only a few hours with her mother and father, however, her guilt had dissipated. Cat and Jim Stratton, even after more than two decades of marriage, were obviously crazy in love and the best of friends, as well. Merrilee June, as she’d called herself then, had recognized that when she eventually left home for good, her parents would miss her daily presence, but as long as they had each other, their lives would be complete. “We’re having company for dinner,” her mother had announced upon Merrilee’s return from college for the summer. “Your father’s new partner.” Merrilee had rounded on her father with concern. “A partner? You’re not slowing down?” Jim Stratton had been in his late forties, which, to Merrilee, had seemed ancient at the time. “On the contrary,” her father had said with that amiable grin she adored. With his dark brown hair and soft gray eyes, Merrilee had always thought him the most handsome man in the world. No wonder her mother loved him so much. “The practice is growing so fast,” her father had explained, “I need all the help I can get. I’ve been working weekends for too long. I want to spend more time with your mother.” Cat had winked at her daughter. “What he really means is he’s missing too many ball games on his brand-new, big-screen TV.” But Merrilee had known better. Her parents had always enjoyed activities together: hiking, white-water rafting and picnics in the nearby Smoky Mountains, tending the vegetable garden that consumed most of the backyard and driving to Greenville or Asheville to attend concerts. For as long as Merrilee could remember, her parents had loved playing records from the fifties and sixties and dancing something they called “the Shag” with the furniture pushed aside in the family room. The snappy and sensuous movements of the dance had caused electricity to crackle between them. And when her father did watch sports on TV, her mother was right beside him, engrossed in the game and yelling caustic comments at the officials, just like one of the guys. Her dad had jokingly bought her mother a rubber-foam brick she could throw at the umpires and not damage the screen. Another favorite sport of Jim Stratton’s was the opportunity to introduce his wife to someone new. “Cat?” the person would usually ask. “Is that short for Catherine?” Her mother would shake her head. “For Catawba. It’s the name of the river near Rock Hill where my father grew up. He loved the river and the name, so I was stuck with Catawba.” Jim Stratton’s eyes would twinkle with delight. “Good thing her dad didn’t live on the river near Asheville. Instead of having a wife named Catawba, I’d have a French Broad,” he’d explain with a satisfied chuckle and suggestive leer. “Jim, please!” Cat’s response was always indignant, but her soft blush and the gleam in her eye revealed that her mother actually loved her father’s teasing. For most of her life, all Merrilee had ever wanted was a man who’d love her like her father loved her mother. Although she’d worried that she’d never find a love as perfect as her parents’, she’d still expected to marry, raise her children in Pleasant Valley and spend the rest of her life there. But fate had other plans. When Merrilee chose to study fine arts at the University of California, her life changed forever. Aside from the occasional trip to Atlanta and family vacations to Florida, Merrilee had spent all her life in the town where she was born. California was culture shock. “You wouldn’t believe this place,” she’d written Jodie. “It’s totally different from the isolation of our ultraconservative Pleasant Valley. I’ve met people on campus from all over the world, and on weekends and holidays, I’ve traveled from San Diego to Monterey. The art museums, the restaurants, the theaters are incredible! And the people talk about philosophy, politics and all kinds of things, not just which restaurant makes the best barbecue or who’s pregnant. Sometimes, Jodie, I swear, I don’t ever want to come home.” With her college experiences, Merrilee’s expectations had shifted. A love like her parents’ would be nice, but only if her husband took her out of Pleasant Valley and gave her free rein to follow her career dreams and to travel the world. The prospect of settling down in the sleepy little town, which had once seemed idyllic, had seemed more like a death sentence. Merrilee had been determined that the summer after her junior year would be the last she’d ever spend in Pleasant Valley. Little had she guessed that fate was about to throw another curve in the form of her father’s guest for dinner that night. “So who is this new partner?” Merrilee had asked. “It’s a surprise,” her mother had said with a glimmer in her blue eyes, exactly like Merrilee’s. And Merrilee had been surprised, all right. Not so much by the fact that her father’s partner was Grant Nathan as by Grant’s effect on her. When he’d entered the Stratton living room that night, Merrilee’s teenage crush had enveloped her in an overwhelming rush that metamorphosed into something much stronger and more breathtaking. Merrilee had fallen in love. And from the corresponding gleam in Grant’s eyes, she’d guessed correctly that he’d experienced the same emotion. That was then, this is now, she reminded herself as they drove further upstate through the foothills of South Carolina toward the mountains. She shoved the memories and the emotions they evoked into that deep compartment of her heart where she’d kept them locked away these past several years. She’d severed her connection to Grant six years ago. For good. No need to revisit dead dreams. But Grant’s presence, the steady, even sound of his breathing, his striking profile and distinctive male scent, and the easy manner with which his strong, capable fingers gripped the steering wheel, made slamming the door on those feelings again harder than when he’d been six hundred miles away. To distract her attention from the enticing man at her side, MJ gazed out the window. Her sojourn in New York City had made her forget the beauty of South Carolina in early spring. In almost every yard, Bradford pear trees in full bloom reminded her of billowing bridal dresses. Arching branches of forsythia in vibrant yellow and stalks of brilliant purple irises provided splashes of color against the bright green of new grass, all framed against a cloudless sky of startling blue. The highway soon left the towns and fields of the foothills and ascended into mountain forests, where an occasional clearing revealed ridge after ridge of the Smoky Mountains to the northwest, the deep emerald of their gentle folds and high peaks in stark contrast against the clear sky. MJ’s fingers itched for her camera, packed in its bag behind her seat. With the familiar farms, small towns and forests unchanged and Grant once again beside her, MJ traveled through the countryside as if the intervening six years had never happened. But they had. She had left Pleasant Valley for good, with the exception of a rare holiday visit, and she had permanently cut all ties with Grant. If not for her parents and Nana, MJ would never have returned to the small town where she’d grown up. Unlike the smorgasbord of cultural and recreational delights of New York and its myriad opportunities for an aspiring artist, Pleasant Valley had nothing to offer except dead ends. But in spite of MJ’s resolve to put the past behind her, coming home affected her. The sight of the white Colonial-style Welcome sign at the town limits brought an unexpected lump to her throat. After crossing the bridge over the river that paralleled Piedmont Avenue, the main thoroughfare, she found herself leaning forward, eager for her first glimpse of her grandmother’s impressive two-story house with its white clapboards and wide wraparound porch, only a block from downtown. Nana must have been watching the street, because as soon as Grant pulled to the curb, the front door with its leaded-glass panes opened and Sally Mae McDonough stepped onto the porch. Dressed in a simple navy dress and matching low-heeled pumps, pearls at her throat and ears, and her white hair elegantly styled, Nana hadn’t changed since MJ’s last visit a year ago Christmas. Slender with perfect posture, her grandmother remained the quintessential Southern belle. In other words, MJ thought with an inward grin, a steamroller disguised as a powder puff. After seeing her Nana unchanged, MJ exhaled a sigh of relief. Nana, at least, as Grant had promised, seemed fine. With a camel-colored cashmere cardigan draped around her shoulders, Nana waited until MJ climbed the stairs before speaking. “Welcome home, child. It’s been too long.” MJ hugged her grandmother, breathed in her signature scent of lilacs and reveled in the warmth of the familiar embrace. “It’s good to see you, Nana.” “We missed you at Christmas.” MJ fought rising guilt. “You know I had to work. I photographed seven weddings over the holidays.” Her earnings had given her a precious few weeks off in January, time to add to her portfolio of the faces and places of the city in preparation for an exhibit of her own someday. MJ lived for that someday. “Wait!” Nana, who seldom raised her voice, had spoken loudly to Grant, who was still at the curb. “Is Gloria with you?” “No, ma’am,” Grant replied. “She’s at home. And none too happy about it, either.” Nana’s relief was evident. And MJ’s curiosity blossomed. Gloria? Jodie’s latest letters had said nothing about her brother’s girlfriend. An uncomfortable sensation settled over MJ and she shrugged it off. She was beyond jealousy. After all, she’d ended her relationship with Grant long ago when things hadn’t worked out as she’d hoped. She was actually surprised he hadn’t married and had children by now, but she didn’t stop to analyze why such a prospect annoyed her. “You can set the bags in the front hall,” Nana said to Grant, who had followed MJ up the walk. Nana held open the door and MJ and Grant stepped inside. “Here she is, safe and sound, like I promised,” Grant announced, “so I’ll be on my way. Gloria’s not happy when I’m away too long.” MJ couldn’t picture Grant with a clinging vine type. He’d evidently changed a great deal in the past six years. She gave herself an inward shake. She didn’t need the distraction of an old relationship now and was glad he was leaving. But her relief at his impending departure was short-lived. “You’re not going now,” Nana said in her soft drawl with its underlying hint of steel that defied contradiction. “I know you had breakfast at 5:00 a.m., as usual, and it’s almost noon. I have lunch ready in the dining room. We can talk as we eat.” “This is family business,” Grant said, apparently anxious to return to Gloria. “I don’t want to intrude.” “Fiddlesticks,” Nana said. “You’re Jim’s partner. That makes you family. Besides, I need your help.” MJ watched with undisguised amusement as Grant relented. Not even his strong will could refuse the command in Nana’s tone. He followed Sally Mae into the dining room and pulled out a chair for her at the head of the table. MJ sat on her grandmother’s right. Grant took a chair at Nana’s left, looking as if he were attending his own execution. Nana reached for the silver pitcher in front of her place. “Iced tea?” MJ’s nerves had reached their breaking point. “This isn’t a social event, Nana. I want to know what’s wrong, and I want to know now.” Her grandmother set the pitcher down with a thud and for a fleeting instant looked as if she were going to cry, something MJ had never witnessed in her twenty-eight years, not even the night her grandfather had died. MJ held her breath as, with apparent Herculean effort, Sally Mae regained her composure and spoke so softly, MJ strained to hear. “Your father,” her grandmother said in a voice without inflection, “has left your mother.” Chapter Two Grant’s reaction to Merrilee’s dilemma surprised him. He drew on all his self-control to keep from rising and going to her. Touched by the distress on her face, he craved to pull her into his arms and to comfort her. But she hadn’t wanted him six years ago and she sure as hell didn’t want him now, especially when her world had just caved in. Irritation at his inadequacy consumed him. He could calm a raging bull, soothe a four-hundred-pound sow with blood in her eye, pacify a wild stallion and handle wild-eyed feral cats. But today, just like six years ago, he was helpless to communicate with, must less console, one small but incredibly beautiful and desirable woman. “Daddy left?” Merrilee’s face had gone white, her eyes, the color of a Carolina mountain sky, had widened with shock and, for an instant, Grant feared she would faint. “What do you mean?” Sally Mae’s aristocratic features twisted into a wry grimace. “You may have spent the last few years among Yankees, but surely you still understand plain English. Left means exactly what it says.” “He’s moved out?” Merrilee looked as if she was having trouble breathing. Grant fought the impulse to close his eyes against her distress. “In a word, yes,” her grandmother replied. For Merrilee’s sake, Grant wished Sally Mae hadn’t been so blunt, but he didn’t know how else she could have broken such unpleasant news except straight-out. “Why?” Merrilee insisted. Grant clamped his jaw to keep from interfering. Working day-in and day-out with Jim Stratton, Grant had witnessed the transformation in his partner and friend, but informing Merrilee was Sally Mae’s responsibility. Grant just hoped the older woman would break the details more gently. “It’s a long story,” Sally Mae said. “This has been going on for a while?” Merrilee’s face flushed, color returning with her anger. “Why didn’t anyone let me know?” “Things didn’t come to a head until yesterday.” Her grandmother’s grim expression added years to her appearance. “No one thought Jim would go that far.” That much was true, Grant thought. He’d believed his partner’s foolish actions a temporary aberration. He’d never guessed that Jim would take such drastic measures. “What about Mom? Is she okay?” “I haven’t spoken with your mother for several days,” Sally Mae said. “She’s staying at her apartment in Asheville.” “Her apartment?” Merrilee’s confusion was evident. “I thought you said Dad moved out.” Sally Mae took a deep breath, the only outward sign she was struggling for control. “I’d better start at the beginning. Last summer, your father started putting in long hours, pushing himself too hard. He seldom slept or took time to eat.” MJ turned an accusing glance on Grant. “I thought you were supposed to help him. Isn’t that what a partner’s for?” “We’ve both been up to our necks.” Grant met her gaze and, although her anger stung, refused to take it personally. His conscience was clear. “Old Doc Gregory over in Walhalla died. Jim and I have been taking up the slack until a new vet takes over his practice.” “Are you telling me Dad’s lost his mind from working too hard?” Merrilee asked her grandmother. “Oh, Jim’s not crazy,” Sally Mae said quickly. “But overwork, sleep deprivation, lack of good nutrition, and the realization he’s not getting any younger have left his judgment impaired.” Merrilee shook her head and a strand of hair the color of sunshine on corn silk fell over one eye. Grant squelched the urge to reach across the table to push it back. Merrilee had made it clear long ago she didn’t want his touch. After the way she’d dumped him so abruptly, had refused to answer his phone calls or letters, had acted as if he’d dropped off the face of the earth, had caused him endless sleepless nights and heartache, Grant should take satisfaction at her distress. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. All he wanted was to make her world right for her again, something he couldn’t do with Jim Stratton off the rails and acting crazy. “Mom usually watches Dad like a hawk,” Merrilee said, “to make sure he takes care of himself. She wouldn’t have let this happen.” The glaze of shock had returned to her amazing blue eyes and Grant’s old pull toward her tightened again, tugging on his heartstrings. “Your mother’s been preoccupied,” Sally Mae said. “With teaching?” Merrilee shook her head. “Mom never put her career first. Dad’s always been the center of her universe.” “Her universe has shifted,” Sally Mae said with dry disapproval. “Cat took a sabbatical last fall. Went back to school for her Ph.D.” “I know that,” Merrilee said. “I may not have come home, but I have stayed in touch by phone and e-mail.” “And your parents have told you only what they wanted you to know,” her grandmother said sharply. Sally Mae’s expression and her voice softened. “Don’t blame yourself. None of us knew the full extent of the problem. Not until yesterday.” Merrilee straightened her shoulders, as if bearing up under a heavy burden. “So you’re telling me, with Dad’s heavy workload and midlife crisis and Mom’s going back to school, my parents have simply drifted apart?” Sally Mae nodded, and Grant kept quiet, waiting for the bomb to drop. “No wonder you called me,” Merrilee said with a sigh that sounded relieved. “I’ll talk to them. I know how much they love each other. If I can get them to communicate, they can work this out.” Grant closed his eyes. Here it comes. Sally Mae fidgeted with the sterling silver flatware beside her plate. “There’s a…complication.” “What kind of complication?” Merrilee didn’t have a clue and Grant wished she could remain ignorant. The truth was going to break her heart. “Ginger Parker,” Sally Mae said in a tone that suggested the mere name made her sick to her stomach. “She’s the complication.” “Another woman?” Merrilee said with a gasp, as if someone had sucker-punched her. “My dad with another woman? I don’t believe it!” “That’s where he went when he moved out,” her grandmother said with obvious distaste. “There’s no fool like an old fool.” “Who is this Ginger?” Merrilee demanded. “I’ve never heard of her.” “Tell her, please, Grant,” Sally Mae said. “Just talking about that…that woman makes me ill.” From the emphasis Sally Mae gave the word, Grant knew full well woman wasn’t what Merrilee’s grandmother had in mind, but she was too well-bred to verbalize her true opinion. Grant could think of a dozen words that fit Ginger Parker, but none that would ever cross Sally Mae McDonough’s lips. Merrilee’s gaze fixed on him, waiting. “Mrs. Parker came here over a year ago,” he began. “She bought the old Patterson place up on Cradle Creek.” “‘Mrs.’? She’s married?” Merrilee asked in a tone even more horrified than before. “A widow,” Grant explained. “Moved here from New Jersey when her husband died.” “What does she look like?” Merrilee said. “Young and pretty, I’ll bet.” “Bottle pretty,” Sally Mae said with a sniff. “She must spend a small fortune on auburn hair dye. And applies her makeup with a trowel. Amy Lou down at the Hair Apparent has made enough profit off that woman to buy a new car.” “Mrs. Parker is several years older than your father,” Grant added. Merrilee’s mouth gaped. “Daddy left Mom for an older woman? I don’t believe it.” “She may be older, but she keeps herself in shape,” Grant said. “She’s a runner. Jogs for miles every day in tight little spandex outfits that accent her behind and, uh, generous chest size.” Grant glanced at Sally Mae, whose eyes were closed in disgust. “And she chooses her routes carefully.” “Chooses her routes?” Merrilee frowned. “Her jogging itinerary makes her highly visible to the male population,” Grant explained. “The woman’s been hot to trot ever since she arrived in Pleasant Valley. She’s cast her net at every man in town.” “Correction,” Sally Mae interjected, “only at men with money. She’s a gold digger.” “Unfortunately,” Grant said, “your father’s the first catch she’s landed.” “The others had more sense,” Sally Mae said with distinct bitterness. Grant didn’t bother mentioning how Ginger Parker had made a play for him last fall, pretending to sprain her ankle in front of his house. When he’d picked her up off the driveway, she’d twined her arms around his neck, pressed her breasts against his chest, batted her eyelashes and asked him to take her home. She’d filled his ear the whole time with how lonely she’d been since her husband, a retired army colonel, had died, and had shed tears that seemed transparently fake. Refusing to fall for her ploy, Grant had called 9-1-1, and Brynn Sawyer had driven the woman to the hospital in her patrol car. After a thorough examination and X rays, the ER doctor had found nothing wrong with Ginger’s ankle and sent her home. Jim Stratton may have found the woman sexy, but Grant thought her pathetic. Guilt gnawed at Grant. Ginger had been as persistent as a burr on a dog. She’d bought a canary after the twisted ankle encounter and showed up at the clinic for a consultation. If Grant hadn’t pawned her off on Jim, believing her no danger to his happily married partner, maybe none of this would have happened. Merrilee shook her head. “I can’t believe this. Daddy has more sense than to fall for another woman, much less one like that.” “Your father isn’t thinking with his brain,” Sally Mae said. “Nana!” Merrilee’s face flushed deep crimson. Grant wasn’t shocked by the oblique reference, only that a woman as genteel as Sally Mae would utter it. What she’d said was true. Jim Stratton hadn’t been thinking clearly for a long time. Ginger Parker had only one thing to offer a man like Jim. Sex. The two had nothing else in common. “I’ll talk to him,” Merrilee said. “Make him see what a fool he’s making of himself. And how much he’s hurting Mom.” “No.” Sally Mae shook her head firmly. “I don’t think you should do that.” The older woman’s response surprised Grant. He’d figured Sally Mae had summoned Merrilee home specifically to talk some sense into Jim. She was the apple of her father’s eye and had always been able to wrap him around her little finger. Grant, too, before she shook the dust of Pleasant Valley off her shoes. “Then why did you call me home?” Merrilee pushed back from the table, stood and paced the antique Oriental rug that covered the highly polished heart-pine floor. “Men are stubborn,” Sally Mae said. “The more you tell them they shouldn’t do something, the more dead set they are to do it.” Grant opened his mouth to protest, but Sally Mae cut him off. “Sorry, Grant, but that’s the truth as I see it, and especially where my son-in-law’s concerned.” “If Daddy can’t be influenced, what can I do?” Merrilee’s reddened cheeks would have been appealing if not for her distress. Sally Mae smiled with an almost feline cunning that made Grant glad she was plotting against Jim and not him. “I didn’t say your father can’t be influenced.” Merrilee took her seat. “I know that look, Nana. You’ve got something up your sleeve.” “Sit down, Merrilee June.” Sally Mae reached for a platter of sandwiches and passed it to Grant. “You might as well eat while we talk. You’re going to need your strength.” Grant was so hungry he didn’t object to the dainty tuna salad sandwiches with the crusts removed. He filled his plate, but Merrilee took only half a sandwich and picked at it before taking a small bite. “I want you to move back home,” Sally Mae announced to her granddaughter. Merrilee choked. Grant raised his eyebrows. Merrilee had made her happiness at leaving Pleasant Valley abundantly clear, and nothing, not even Grant’s marriage proposal, had been able to keep her here. “You’re not serious,” Merrilee insisted once she’d cleared her throat. “If you want to save your parents’ marriage,” Sally Mae said, “you must stay here. You can’t help them long distance.” “If I can’t talk to Dad, what good is staying?” She had a point, Grant conceded, but he also was well aware that Sally Mae McDonough was one sharp cookie. She wouldn’t have summoned Merrilee home without a specific plan. Sally Mae patted her lips with a damask napkin and laid it beside her plate. “I said you shouldn’t talk to him about that woman.” Grant winced. On Sally Mae’s lips, those two simple words sounded like the vilest profanity. Merrilee cast her glance toward the ceiling as if seeking divine intervention. “Then what am I supposed to discuss? Cows and horses?” Sally Mae’s sly smile returned. “In a manner of speaking.” “What good would that do? Nana, I have my work in New York. I can’t just move home and abandon it.” Sally Mae straightened her back, the proverbial steel magnolia. But her granddaughter was no slouch in the intestinal fortitude department, either. Grant waited, curious who would win this battle of wills. Sally Mae nodded toward the hall, where Merrilee’s bags sat. “You brought your camera. You can work here.” “There are precious few weddings in Pleasant Valley,” Merrilee protested. “And no Bar Mitzvahs,” Grant added. Jim had kept him informed on how Merrilee was earning her living in New York. Merrilee shot him a grateful glance. “I can’t support myself here.” “You won’t have to,” Sally Mae said. “I—” “I won’t accept charity,” Merrilee said with a fierceness Grant remembered well. “When I left home, I vowed to make it on my own. I don’t intend to return with my tail between my legs and my hand out.” With a sigh, Grant recalled that one of the things he’d loved most about Merrilee was her spunk. Without that gumption, she wouldn’t have set out on her own. She wouldn’t have left Pleasant Valley. And him. “I’m not giving any handouts,” Sally Mae said. “I want to commission your work.” Merrilee’s jaw dropped. “You want me to photograph you?” “Lord, no,” Sally Mae replied emphatically. “This old ruin doesn’t need chronicling. I want to commission a book.” After Jim’s infidelity, Grant had believed himself past surprising, but Sally Mae’s proposal stunned him. What kind of book would interest a woman of her age and social standing? Merrilee’s very pretty mouth was gaping again. Her grandmother’s pronouncement had clearly left her speechless. “I want you to record a pictorial account of the life of a country vet,” Sally Mae said. “Dr. Jim Stratton, D.V.M. I’ll pay all your expenses and underwrite its publication. It will make a stunning addition to your portfolio.” Merrilee shook her head. “I don’t know. I’m not into pastoral settings. I prefer cityscapes.” Grant, however, saw immediately the tack Sally Mae was suggesting. “It’s brilliant, Merrilee. You’ll have to spend hours with your father, shooting him at work. The more you’re with him, the better chance you have of bringing him back to reality. You’ll be a constant reminder of what he’s giving up.” “And,” Sally Mae continued, “if you’re living at home, you’ll be a comfort to your mother. This…” She struggled for words. “This foolishness has to be breaking her heart.” “Mom has you to lean on,” Merrilee said, but Grant could tell she was wavering. “I will be here for your mother,” Sally Mae said, “but I can’t help your parents as you can. Every time your father looks at you, he’ll see your resemblance to your mother, reminding him of his marriage and the happiness it’s brought him. Heaven knows, he needs something to counteract the lust that’s driving him.” “Lust!” Merrilee protested. “Dad’s over fifty!” “Over fifty but not dead,” Sally Mae said with a wry smile. Her smile faded and her eyes grew flinty. “Although if you can’t bring him to his senses, I might have to rectify that.” “Your grandmother’s plan has merit.” Grant struggled to remain objective. He had motives of his own, besides his friendship with Jim Stratton, for wanting Merrilee to stay. “The only reason Jim’s been able to justify his relationship with Mrs. Parker is that neither you nor your mother has been around. He’s living a fantasy with no one to burst his bubble.” “A fantasy that will kill him when he wakes up and realizes what he’s done,” Sally Mae added. “You must intervene, Merrilee, before this goes any further.” Merrilee’s heart-shaped face contorted into a thoughtful frown. “I’ll stay a week and assess the situation. Maybe my homecoming will snap Dad out of it. But I’m not committing to a book.” Sally Mae nodded in agreement. Grant could tell the old woman had lost the battle but had not conceded the war. “Grant will take you home,” she announced. Merrilee cast him a questioning glance before turning to her grandmother. “Grant told me I could use your car.” Sally Mae nodded. “As soon as the battery’s charged. Jay-Jay’s backed up at the garage, but he said he’ll get to it this afternoon.” “I’ve kept Grant from his work too long already. I can walk home, Nana. It’s only two blocks.” Nothing had changed, Grant realized. Merrilee was home, but she still wanted nothing to do with him. Sally Mae set her jaw in a determined line. “You have two pieces of luggage, and rain’s in the forecast.” “I don’t mind,” Grant said quickly. “It’s not out of my way.” “What about Gloria?” Merrilee asked with a challenge in her blue eyes. “Isn’t she expecting you?” Oh, lordy. Gloria. He’d forgotten all about her, and there’d be hell to pay when he got home. There always was. “I have to go by your house anyway,” Grant said, accepting the inevitable. “No problem.” He hoped. Merrilee pushed to her feet. “Then I won’t keep you any longer. We can leave now.” Sally Mae stood and embraced her granddaughter. “Think about my book offer. We need you here, Merrilee. Your parents need you.” Grant bit his tongue to keep from voicing his opinion and went into the hall to retrieve her bags. He’d needed Merrilee, too, all those years ago. Needed her like a man needs air. But his need hadn’t been enough to keep her in Pleasant Valley. Even knowing how much she loved her parents, he wondered if their plight would be enough to keep her here this time. Chapter Three In a daze of disbelief, Merrilee followed Grant to his truck. She couldn’t shake the feeling she was moving through a bad dream. If the surrounding trees had started walking and talking, they wouldn’t have surprised her as much as her father’s bizarre and totally uncharacteristic betrayal. “Are you sure Dad hasn’t lost his reason?” she demanded of Grant when he climbed into the driver’s seat beside her. “He’s not thinking straight, but he’s not insane. He’s been holding up his end of the practice without any problems.” “I never thought my father the type to suffer a mid-life crisis. He’s always seemed so steady. So dependable.” “He’s not as young as he once was, and he’s been pushed to his limit physically. That has to influence his emotions. And your mom’s not been around to help him keep his balance.” “When’s the last time he had a physical?” Grant shrugged. “Not in the past couple years that I know of. We’ve been too busy.” “But he’s not too busy for Ginger.” Merrilee’s bitterness hit her stomach and, for an instant, she feared she might be sick in Grant’s new truck. “I still can’t believe it.” “Maybe you can nip this in the bud.” “I don’t know. After what he’s done, I don’t see how Mom can ever forgive him.” “She loves him. Love solves a lot of problems.” “Causes problems, too.” Grant reached over, grasped her hand and threaded his warm, callused fingers through hers. His comforting touch called up powerful emotions Merrilee thought she’d buried for good. Grant said, “I don’t think love has anything to do with what’s going on between your dad and Ginger.” Merrilee extricated her hand. She’d been thinking of how love had made her initial move from Pleasant Valley so hard. She’d felt as if she’d been torn in two, one half deliriously happy to be living her dream, the other half crying herself to sleep at night, missing home. And especially Grant. She’d managed to overcome her homesickness. And she’d confined Grant to a deep corner of her heart that she refused to visit. Whether she stayed in Pleasant Valley a day, a week, or longer, she’d make certain he remained locked away. She didn’t want those wounds opened again. And, after all, he had Gloria now, so any residual feelings MJ had for Grant were moot. In a matter of minutes he stopped the truck in front of her parents’ home. He opened his door and she put her hand on his arm. “Don’t get out. I can manage my bags.” “You’re sure?” She nodded. This homecoming was difficult. She had to face it alone. She forced a smile. “Gloria’s waiting, remember?” His scowl puzzled her. “How could I forget?” Maybe things at home weren’t going well for Grant, either, but Merrilee had her own problems. “Thanks for the lift.” “Call me if you need me.” Grant’s brown eyes darkened to almost black with what appeared genuine concern. “I want to help.” “Thanks. I will.” But, for the life of her, Merrilee couldn’t think what help Grant might be. She couldn’t even conjure how she could ward off the looming disaster. With a farewell nod, Grant closed his door, pulled away from the curb and gunned the engine in his hurry to return to Gloria. Merrilee stood at the curb, studying the house where she’d lived until her college years and her subsequent move to New York. The century-old, two-story Victorian with its Queen Anne turret that held her second-floor bedroom hadn’t changed. The white clapboards, set off by a dark green roof and shutters, sparkled in the sun. Her mother’s beds of daffodils and tulips filled the borders with cheery color, and the blossoming red-bud tree was a splash of lavender against the white siding. Baskets of verdant Boston ferns nestled among the inviting wicker porch furniture. Home. MJ loved her life in New York, the bustle of activity and the ever-changing variety of the city, but she’d always held this image of home in her heart, like a treasure locked away in a bank vault whose existence gave her security and peace of mind. With a start, she realized she’d thought of Grant that way, too. Even though she’d refused to marry him, she’d always known that he was here in Pleasant Valley, working with her father, his life unchanged since she’d left, as if waiting for her eventual return. Except now, with Gloria, Grant had moved on. She tried to feel happy for him, but all she felt was a depressing sense of loss, which made absolutely no sense. She’d refused to marry Grant. And now she couldn’t picture herself ever marrying at all. Merrilee climbed the porch steps, fumbled in the bottom of her purse for her key and opened the door. She was greeted by a blast of musty air instead of the usual delicious aromas emanating from the kitchen. Her footsteps on the hardwood floor echoed eerily in the empty house and suddenly it didn’t seem like home at all. She dropped her bags in the family room and sank into her father’s leather recliner while she assessed the painful irony of her situation. What she’d loved most about home and Pleasant Valley was the fact that nothing ever changed. And what she’d hated most was that nothing ever changed. May you have what you wish for. The old Chinese curse popped into her mind and she rued the day she’d ever longed for life in Pleasant Valley to be different. She gazed around the familiar room at the shelves of her mother’s favorite books, the sweater, folded across the back of a chair, that her mother kept downstairs in case of a sudden chill, the stack of old 45s her parents had danced to, the seed catalogs beside her father’s chair and the row of framed photographs on the mantel, a pictorial chronicle of the Strattons’ life as a family. Her family’s life had been happy, satisfying and filled with love and excitement. So how had things gone so horribly wrong? That question shook MJ to her core. Unable to dislodge her depression, she wandered upstairs to her parents’ bedroom and opened the closet. Her father’s side was empty, her mother’s sparsely filled. If Merrilee couldn’t mend the break between her parents, would they divorce and sell this house, the only real home she’d ever known? She tried but couldn’t picture another family living here. Couldn’t imagine her mom and dad not being together. Merrilee sank onto the edge of the queen-size bed, remembering Sunday mornings as a child when she’d climbed in with her parents while they’d read the comics and laughed together. The emptiness of the house taunted her and resolve hardened her backbone. She didn’t know if Nana’s book scheme would work, but Merrilee would give it a try. New York, fame and fortune would have to wait until she’d knitted her unraveled family back together. GRANT OPENED HIS FRONT door and braced himself for Gloria’s assault. The majestic young Irish wolfhound bounded into his arms with a whimper of delight, her long tongue washing his face. If he’d weighed a few pounds less or the dog a few more, Gloria would have knocked him off his feet. With dismay, he surveyed the living room of the log cabin he’d spent his savings and spare time to renovate. Dacron fluff from shredded cushions littered the sofa, a drapery panel hung at a precarious angle and a disgusting wetness puddled on his laboriously refinished and highly polished pine floor. He curbed his frustration and greeted Gloria with an affectionate hug. The dog couldn’t help her separation anxiety. It wasn’t her fault the medication he’d prescribed hadn’t taken effect yet. He could only imagine the abuse the poor animal had suffered before he’d rescued her from the roadside, injured, dehydrated, starving, with her fur matted and dirty. Her fear of men had been a silent testament to prior mistreatment. He’d worked for weeks to earn her trust. Now if he could only cure her fear of abandonment, she’d make a perfect companion. And, God willing, Grant thought, surveying his domain, he would accomplish that feat before she wrecked his house completely. Gloria loved riding, and Grant usually took her on rounds with him, but he’d been reluctant to leave her in the truck at the airport. No telling what she’d have done to his new leather upholstery. Not that Merrilee—or MJ, he corrected himself with a grunt of disapproval—would have minded Gloria’s presence. She’d inherited her father’s love of animals, one of the many interests she and Grant had had in common. While he mopped the floor with paper towels, then sprayed it with an enzyme cleaner and wiped again, he pondered how his encounter with his ex-fianc?e had affected him. When Sally Mae had called with the news about Jim and asked Grant to pick up Merrilee at the airport, Grant hadn’t hesitated. He’d considered himself free of any hold Merrilee once had on him. After all, after the initial shock and heartbreak, he’d survived her desertion just fine, had gone on with his life as he’d planned, even with a Merrilee-size hole in his heart. He hadn’t expected seeing her again to affect him. Just as he hadn’t expected to fall in love with her that summer seven years ago when he joined Jim’s practice…. HIS FIRST NIGHT back in Pleasant Valley after his internship, Jim and Cat had invited him to dinner to celebrate their new partnership. Cat had answered the door and as Grant had stepped into the foyer, Merrilee had come down the stairs. Expecting the same tow-headed, irritating brat that had hung out with his little sister, Grant had been struck speechless by the maturity of the beautiful young woman whose growing up had caught him by surprise. She’d worn a blue sundress, slightly paler than her eyes, that showed off her California tan, her pale blond hair and deliciously long legs. The clinging fabric had called subtle attention to the curve of her breasts and hips, a far cry from the flat-chested, skinny kid in jeans and T-shirts of his memory. Low-heeled sandals had made her feet with pearl-pink nails seem almost bare. But it was her smile that had captured his heart, a slow, teasing grin that shot warmth spiraling through him. “Hey, Grant.” Surprise was evident in her greeting. “Dad didn’t tell me you’re his new partner. I thought you’d taken a job in Georgia.” Grant was suddenly tongue-tied. The annoying kid he’d teased mercilessly for most of his life had turned into one of the most attractive and desirable women he’d ever encountered. Cat had saved him from his embarrassing silence by chiming in. “He had, but your father talked him into coming home.” “He didn’t have to twist my arm.” Grant finally regained his ability to speak. “I always wanted to practice in Pleasant Valley, but didn’t want to compete with Jim. Now we’re on the same team.” “Come in here,” Jim called from the living room. “The champagne’s open. This calls for a toast.” Grant followed Cat and Merrilee into the elegant but cozy room, and Jim handed each a flute of the sparkling wine. He lifted his glass to Grant. “To a long and successful partnership.” “Amen to that,” Cat added with enthusiasm and sipped her champagne. But Jim was only warming up. He raised his glass again, this time to Merrilee. “To my princess, the best daughter a man could have.” “Oh, Daddy,” she protested and blushed beneath her tan, but Grant could tell she was pleased. “And finally,” Jim continued, “but definitely not least, to the love of my life.” From the adoring look Jim gave Cat as he toasted her and judging by her beaming response, Grant had no doubt of the bond between the couple. As dinner progressed, they were so obviously in tune with each other, they sometimes finished one another’s sentences. After the meal, Cat shooed Grant and Merrilee out of the dining room. “Jim and I will clean up. I’m sure you two have lots of catching up to do. There’s a nice breeze on the porch.” Grant checked for signs of matchmaking in Cat’s expression, but his partner’s wife gave no indication of guile or intrigue. Apparently, she was simply being a good hostess. He followed Merrilee to the wicker swing on the front porch and sat beside her. “What now?” she asked. He blinked in astonishment at her bluntness, wondering what she was expecting. Even in the dim twilight of the late summer evening, he could see her blush as she qualified her question. “I mean, what are your plans? Will you move back in with your parents?” Grant shook his head. “Going home is hard after living on my own so many years. I’m looking for my own place. What about you?” “I still have a year of college left.” “And after that, are you coming back to Pleasant Valley?” Merrilee looked at him as if he’d grown two heads. “What would I do here?” “Teach, like your mom. Isn’t that what you’d always planned, if I recall Jodie’s incessant chatter correctly?” She smoothed her skirt with long, slender fingers, the kind a man liked to lace his own through. Her expression turned thoughtful, almost introspective. “I had planned to teach before I realized there’s a world out there. I feel sometimes as if I’ve spent the first eighteen years of my life in isolation.” “Aw, c’mon.” He felt mildly offended by her put-down of their hometown. “Pleasant Valley’s a great place. You make it sound like the end of the earth.” Merrilee extended her toes to give the swing a push and the faint rush of air caused her honeysuckle scent to swirl around him, mixing with the fragrances from Cat’s perennial borders. The effect was intoxicating and he had to make an effort to concentrate on her words. “The people here are terrific, but life’s so…so predictable.” “And that’s bad?” Her scent stirred his blood and accelerated his pulse, but somehow he managed to keep the conversation moving in spite of the distraction. “Not if you like small town country living.” “And you don’t?” She shook her head. “I can’t wait to leave after college. I intend to rent an apartment in New York, probably downtown, where all the artists and musicians live.” “Are you going to be a writer?” “What makes you think that?” “I thought you were majoring in English, like your mom.” “I’d planned to, but I switched my sophomore year to Fine Arts. I’m a photographer.” “You can take pictures in Pleasant Valley.” He couldn’t understand why Merrilee, with her wonderful parents and a town filled with family and friends, would want to pack up and leave. Then he recalled how anxious he’d been to get away from Pleasant Valley his freshman year in college. He’d done a lot of traveling and, after several years away, he’d learned to appreciate home. In fact he’d reached the conclusion that Pleasant Valley was about as close to heaven as a man could get. “I tell you what.” He wanted to spare her the same learning curve. “Spend some time with me this summer and I’ll show you all kinds of things to photograph.” The thought of sharing his spare time with the suddenly grown up and alluring Merrilee appealed to him on several levels. She cocked a feathery eyebrow, her gaze skeptical. “I love animals, but—” “I promise to vary the subject matter. And I bet I can show you at least two dozen good reasons not to leave Pleasant Valley.” Her skepticism didn’t dim. “I’m not changing my mind.” “But you’re afraid you might?” A slow smile lifted her delectably rosy lips. “Not a bit. In fact, I’ll bet I can win you over to my point of view.” “Not a chance.” “I love a challenge.” Her grin widened. “When’s your first day off?” “I don’t start work until next week. How about tomorrow?” She lowered her lashes before casting him a flirtatious glance. “You don’t waste any time, do you?” He shook his head. “By the end of the summer, Merrilee June, I promise, you’ll hate going back to California.” She angled her chin in defiance. “By the end of the summer, my dad will be looking for a new partner.” Alarm jolted him. “My intentions are honorable.” She giggled, a pleasant sound like a creek bubbling over stones. “I’m sure they are. I meant that when I get through with you, Grant Nathan, you’ll find Pleasant Valley as boring as I do. You’ll be ready to move on.” Anxious to prove her wrong, he picked her up at ten the next morning. In shorts, T-shirt and sneakers, and with her blond hair pulled back in a ponytail, she looked for an instant like the child he remembered. But closer scrutiny revealed the womanly curves beneath her casual clothes, the maturity in the attractive angles of her heart-shaped face and the intelligence in her bright blue eyes. He opened the passenger door of the pickup for her to climb inside. His vantage point provided a clear view of her long, tanned legs, crossed demurely at the ankles, and caused heat to curl below his stomach. “Where are we going?” she asked. “It’s a surprise.” He closed the door and took a deep breath of morning air to cool his thoughts as he circled the truck and slid onto the driver’s seat. “I like surprises. That’s one reason I want to move. Nothing ever surprises me in Pleasant Valley.” “I’ve found something that will.” He started the engine, pulled away from the curb and headed downtown. He ignored her dubious expression. After a few short blocks he turned into a diagonal parking space on Piedmont Avenue, the main drag. “Not the hardware store,” she said with obvious disappointment. “Your dad’s owned this place my entire life. No surprises here.” “We’re not going to the hardware store.” He felt a rush of satisfaction, knowing that Merrilee would be not merely surprised, but amazed. He hadn’t learned this tidbit of information himself until yesterday. On the sidewalk he grasped her elbow and guided her toward the small storefront to the left of the hardware store. The windows were smudged with grime and a fading sign hung at an angle above the door. “Here we are,” he announced with a flourish. Merrilee’s jaw dropped. “Mr. Weatherstone’s old fix-it shop? It’s been empty for years.” “Hard to maintain a business repairing typewriters and small appliances in today’s market,” Grant agreed. He stepped to the glass front door, so grimy it obscured the shop’s interior, and gave three sharp knocks. “You should have brought your camera.” “Yeah, right.” She grimaced in distaste. “So I can shoot a fascinating montage of dust motes, dead spiders and cobwebs—” The door swung inward and an excited squeal interrupted her midsentence. “Merrilee! You’re back!” Jodie Nathan barreled through the doorway and enveloped Merrilee in a bear hug. Merrilee returned her embrace with a dazed expression. “Jodie, what are you doing here?” Merrilee asked. Jodie beamed at Grant and contentment flooded him. He hadn’t seen his sister this happy in a long time. Her hazel eyes sparkled beneath the light brown curls that had escaped from the blue bandanna tying back her hair. Even with a smudge of dirt across one cheek, she looked radiant. Конец ознакомительного фрагмента. Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес». 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